#like imagine one day everyone’s at a justice league meeting and suddenly they start hearing children screaming an laughing

[bats-and-the-birds]

I like to think about young Dick Grayson a lot, and right now I'm specifically thinking about him from the Justice League's perspective.

Like, imagine you're in the Justice League, maybe you've been there for a few months, maybe for a few years, but either way, you know how it works. Superman's terrifyingly powerful, but you get over the fear factor as soon as you see him cry over a sad cat video, and Wonder Woman's still a bit intimidating, but as long as you're good and truthful, you can trust that she won't crush your head like a grape.

And Batman... well, you've made your peace with the fact that you'll never figure him out. You know literally nothing about him, other than the fact that he claims to be fully human, but you're not even really sure about that, because you're pretty sure he just materializes in the shadows sometimes. The only things that you're 100% sure of is that you're terrified of him, and you're so glad that he's not on someone else's side.

And then, suddenly, he has acquired a child. Just like everything else, you don't find out immediately, because god forbid that man tell his team anything. But you start to hear vague reports of another shadow trailing behind Batman in the night. Superman asks him about it one day, but of course, he doesn't respond, and they all wonder, but it never gets brought up again.

But one day, unexpectedly, that shadow is at a league meeting, and he's not as shadowy as you would have thought. In fact, he's wearing the most vibrant costume you've seen, and you spend all of your time with other heroes in spandex. He's also young. Terrifyingly young. It's his twelfth birthday, actually, he explains to the league, and he pestered 'B' until he agreed to take him to a meeting. You all agree later that he looks younger than twelve. And you worry about him, because why is this child in Batman's care? Can he really be trusted to look after someone so small, so young, so seemingly fragile?

Besides, Robin (Robin, his name is Robin, he's a songbird for christ's sake), is everything that you'd think Batman would hate. He talks everyone's ear off with a giant grin stretched across his entire face. He begs Superman to fly him around and cackles and claps as Wonder Woman demonstrates basic sword maneuvers for him. Before long, the whole team is in a better mood. Meanwhile, Batman stands in the shadows, his face impassive, with no explanation about the little masked boy that walked into the room hiding under his cape.

He leaves just as he came, disappearing under Batman's cape as the two exit the watchtower together, and the whole league is left to wonder how the fuck that child ended up in Batman's care, and whether or not they should intervene, because spending prolonged time in Batman's company cannot be healthy for a child.

But then he starts showing up more and more, popping up in some places that you know from Batman's glare he's not supposed to be. He's teamed up with that speedster boy and the two of them cause havoc, but Robin takes the lecture he gets with a grin and gives a half hearted promise to behave.

You steadily start to realize that he might not be as out of place in Batman's company as you originally thought. You realize that the boy is a performer through and through, and that extends to that grin of his that dazzled the team when they first met him. You get the impression that sometimes its genuine, yes, but you'd never know if it wasn't. His exuberance is a persona held in place as meticulously as Batman's grim seriousness.

And though you'd assumed that Batman's sidekick (partner, the boy insisted, rather intensely, though his smile never faltered) would be well trained, this kid could take down league members, you're sure. You quickly realize that he enjoys fighting, and he fights viciously, giggling and putting on a show, but leaving broken bones in his wake. Your first impression is that Robin was more human than the demon they called the Batman, but you quickly start to question that too. If Batman can materialize in shadows, then Robin can fly. He twists through the air like gravity doesn't affect him and lands with so much grace that you'd think he had hollow bones like his namesake. You're not fully convinced he doesn't, considering he climbs up the bat with no warning, clinging onto his back like he belongs there (you quickly start to think he does), or he'll throw himself through the air with no more warning than a quick 'catch' yelled to his partner. And Batman catches him. Batman always catches him. Everyone keeps an eye on him when he's up high, but there's a part of you that feels like it's impossible that he'd ever fall. Or at least, impossible that Batman would ever let him hit the ground.

And you start to think that Robin's exactly where he's supposed to be; perched on Batman's shoulder, hiding in his cape, or fighting by his side. You still hope there's a normal boy behind the mask, going to school and making friends with someone to tuck him in at night, but you also can't imagine anything normal about Robin, and maybe that's why he needs to be by Batman's side, and maybe that's why Batman needs him too.

[its-minart]

Baby Robins get to meet The Justice League their heroes pt.1

Pt.2 || Pt.3

[watchtower-feed]

Until Death (Part 5)

SSA ✧ Red Hood ✧ 1 ✧ 2 ✧ 3 ✧ 4 ✧ 5 ✧

    Jason frowns at the sound of his alias escaping your lips but don’t see it. You turn around and swallow a sob before you walked away.

    “Damn, Jason! How heartless!” Roy has been giving Jason a hard time for the past half hour in Roy’s apartment since Jason told him what happened between the two of you. “The girl goes out of her way to search for you, gets chased by bad guys, falls off a roof, and then you just tell her you never wanted to meet her?”

    “What?” Jason snaps back, “Should I have lied? Tell her I’ve been dreaming about the day when we’d meet?”

    Roy rolls his eyes to the side, a small smirk playing on his lips,  “Weeell…” Jason stares at him as he waits. “Before you, you know,” Roy makes a gesture of cutting his throat with his thumb, making Jason glare at him, “you did brag a lot about the day you’d meet your soulmate you know. When you were still a Titan--”

    Jason physically shuts Roy up by covering his mouth with both of his hands. He glares at him with wide eyes and raised brows but Roy can see the blush covering his cheeks, “That was years ago.”

    Roy removes his friend’s hands from his face, “That was three years ago and that was you. At least one type of Jason.”

    Jason turns away from him, “I’m different now.”

    Roy doesn’t believe him one bit. Three years is a good time to change a person but not enough to completely forget who they were. “And you’re scared she won’t like you?” Roy stares at Jason who stubbornly makes a show of lying down on the floor and staring at the ceiling instead of him. “How are you going to know if you never try~” Roy lets his sing-song voice echo in the room but Jason doesn’t budge.

    Then Roy stops abruptly and Jason watches him close his eyes. He waits for a while before Roy opens his eyes again.

    “Your soulmate?” Jason asks.

    “Yeah, she’s done with class. Sorry, bro, duty calls.” Roy kicks himself off his bed and packs his last-minute-superhero-bag-disguised-as-an-ordinary-gym-bag. “She took military science this semester and I’m helping her write a paper on reconnaissance.”

    Jason frowns, “Don’t tell me. You’re letting her experience it first hand?”

    Roy chuckles, “You’re skeptical. I see that but once you meet her. Oh, boy. You’re going to wish you have her for backup.”

    Jason watches as one of his closest friends hum while he packs away more gadgets for his trip. “How do you do it, Roy? Having somebody else’s thoughts in your head?”

    Roy pauses at the sudden seriousness of Jason’s voice, more serious than usual. “It’s not all bad. You know when you’re thinking to yourself, trying to find answers to life’s dilemmas?” he asks and waits for Jason to respond but he doesn’t so Roy scoffs. “And then suddenly someone actually answers you. It’s like God answering your prayers or something. It feels good talking to somebody.”

    “Sounds just like having comms on a mission.”

    “Exactly. And life’s a mission, Jay.” Roy teases as he opens his door and steps out. He leans in gives Jason a goodbye kiss in the air. “And you better get on with yours.”

    Roy shuts the door to his own apartment and leaves Jason lying on his floor feeling miserable and antsy.

    Later that same evening, it doesn’t take long for Jason to track you down. No, not all because much to his displeasure, you are still looking for answers regarding his death. Now that you know he’s the Red Hood, it has lead you to even deeper shit than you can imagine.

    “Lookie here, boss. One just came straight to our lap.” One of Black Mask’s goons drops you on the floor like a garbage bag and you land on your wrists tied behind your back.

    You bite against the cloth wrapped along your jaw and you glare hard at the crime lord standing tall and menacing in his diamond-clad black suit. He squats down and stares at you with his face only a few inches away. You can smell the tobacco and scotch in his breath mixed with the stench of the black paint of his mask.

    “Gutsy,” he turns back to one of his goons, “Definitely has enough spunk to be a soulmate of one of those do-gooders.” Black Mask looks you over from head to toe making you tense under his gaze. “What does she have?”

    One of his men steps up and harshly grabs your wrists to show his boss the faded timer on your hand.

    He frowns, “Timer link, huh. Luthor would have paid big money for you if your timer hadn’t run out.” He turns his eyes away from your wrist and looks back at you in the eye, “Seems you’ve met your soulmate then.”

    “She was walking around asking people about the Red Hood.”

    Black Mask’s eyes widen and fill in the sockets of his mask. He stands up quickly and smacks the man who spoke. “You idiots!” he bellows at them. “Get her out of here!”

    The man holding you quickly let you go and backs away. You quickly stare in shock as you and the rest of the men in the warehouse watch the Black Mask trudge along the ends of the table spouting rushed instructions to his men. “Do you all want to die tonight?”

    Then one loud bang of metal hitting the cement floor steals everyone’s attention. You turn your head away from the Black Mask and find the Red Hood with his knees bent, head down, and an AK-47 in his hands.

    “Yes,” he says as he straightens his posture and rests the assault rifle on his shoulder, “It does seem like you want to die tonight.”

    The men are inching away from the Red Hood and Black Masks grits his teeth as he tries to keep still against the table. “Here for your girl, Red?” Black Masks snarls at him. “It doesn’t look like you’re here to save anyone with that gun you’re carrying.”

    You stare at Jason. Black Mask has a point. The rifle isn’t the best gun for a rescue mission so he must be here more for an assault. Less for you. Or not at all.

    The Red Hood laughs with his chest, making the Black Mask flinch. “Oh,” he says as he straightens up and leans forward, “I’m just the appetizer.”

    You feel the vibration of the whole warehouse before you heard the crash of the ceiling on the other side of the warehouse. You cower until all of the debris has fallen and then you quickly take a look and find Superman floating down from the gaping hole. Much faster, you see a familiar broad-shouldered silhouette glide in and land right onto Black Mask’s face.

    You’re too busy watching the Justice League round up Black Mask and his men that you instantly flinch at the feel of someone touching your wrist. It’s the Red Hood. He raises his hands, “Are you hurt?”

    You stare for a moment before you look down, “I-- I think one of my wrists is broken.” You hear him click his tongue and hear a switchblade slice through the ropes around your arm. Gently, he helps you take them off. You rub your wrists and confirm that one of them is definitely broken.

    “Does she need medical attention?” the sudden presence of Wonder Woman startles you.

    “Not critical, but her wrist is broken.”

    “I-I’m fine,” you utter in sudden embarrassment. It’s not a feeling you’re used to, being fussed over. Especially by a whole league of heroes.

    Batman approaches the three of you and he immediately kneels in front of you. He holds out his hand and tentatively you offer up your broken wrist. He takes out a makeshift wood splinter and lays it under your palm.

    “I can do it,” both you and Batman quickly turn to the Red Hood. He’s already squatting down and holding out his hand. Batman hands you over and gives him a roll of medical tape. You watch as the Red Hood slowly aligns the wood along your forearm. He takes one end of the tape and presses your fingers down on it with his palm.

    “I saw the look you gave me back there,” his voice suddenly jolts you and he has to align the wood again before he can start wrapping. When he spoke again, he sounded like he was pouting, “You didn’t actually think I would put you in harm’s way, right? That rifle was just in case I had to break my way through some of his guys but mostly it was just for show.”

    You stare up at his mask and wonder what face he’s making underneath. You look back down and watch in awe at how gentle he’s treating your arm. “I’m sorry,” you blurt out, making Jason stop.

    After a moment he starts again, “What the hell do you have to be sorry for?”

    You try to fake a laugh, “For putting myself in danger and then having to have you and the League get involved.”

    “First of all, are you dense?” He uses his head to point towards the League escorting Black Mask and his men out of the warehouse and towards the incoming police lights. “This is exactly what heroes are supposed to do. I was looking for you and Batman told me Black Masks’ men had you. So he and the rest of the League got involved.”

    You suddenly go quiet and sharply turn back to the Red Hood, making him flinch. You wanted to ask why he was looking for you but you’re thinking too much and all you got out was one word. “Why?”

    The Red Hood sighs, bored as if he’s just de-briefing on a mission, “Someone’s been targeting superhero soulmates, kidnapping them, and then having their links stolen or broken. It’s what happened to Superman and his soulmate.”

    Your fingers tense as he finishes up wrapping up your wrists. Would he want that? You wonder if Jason would have been happy if they had been successful. Your voice comes out as a whisper, “You said you never wanted to meet me. Do you wish they could have taken away our links before we met?”

    You can tell he’s watching you under his mask.

    “I doubt they could have. Not even death kept us apart.”

    Quickly, he stands up and offers a hand, “Can you stand?”

    You were completely phased by the sudden change of topic and his non-answer. You resorted to stubbornly staring at him and remaining rooted on the warehouse floor. The Red Hood groans under his mask and then squats back down, with his back facing you.

    “I’ll take you home and then I’ll give you my answer, deal?”

    Again that surprises you. He pretty much answered you, right? If he didn’t want to meet you he would have just said no right away like he did weeks ago. Slowly you climb onto his back. As soon as you secure your arms around his neck and his arms wrap around your thighs to hold you up, he says, “I’ve wanted to meet you for as long as I can remember, Y/N.”

✧ 1 ✧ 2 ✧ 3 ✧ 4 ✧ 5 ✧

[silverdecepticon93]

The heroes have kidnapped The Riddlers who are involved in a very life-threatening plot and as a reward for the cooperation, they offer them a date with you, their superhero crush.

Harley Quinn Riddler:

The moment they offered him a date with you, he knew that he was caught and absolutely done for.

“But, how did-” Batman interrupted him, “How did we know that you had a crush on (Y/n)? It’s kinda obvious.”

“Do they know I have a...crush on them?” He asked nervously. Then you decided to join in the conversation, “Who do you think proposed the deal?”

At first, Edward literally couldn’t process a sentence. You were the one who offered to go on a date with him?

Once he was finally able to speak, he started spilling the tea, meaning that he accepted the deal.

Arkham Riddler:

He actually has to think about this really hard, the deal’s tempting but he also has a reputation to uphold.

Just imagine how every other villain would react when they find out he took a bribe from the JUSTICE LEAGUE of all people!

However, if they manage to bring you into the interrogation room then Eddie’s love for you is gonna overwhelm him, and eventually he’ll just give in.

“FINE!” He growled, “You win!”

Meanwhile, you’re in disbelief that it actually worked before you started to feel your face become hot. That meant that you were gonna have to go out on a date with him.

Justice League Action Riddler:

He’d pretend to think about it but the thing is that he didn’t want to look to eager when accepting.

However, he’ll gladly tell them about every aspect of whatever nefarious plot the other villains are planning since it’s not every day he got a chance like this.

“Thank you for your cooperation.” Batman finally said.

“Thank you for this...” Edward looked over at you with a slight smirk on his face, “One in a lifetime opportunity.”

Well, at least you can tell that the date was certainly going to be an interesting one.

Young Justice Riddler:

If he felt cocky or incredibly confident that he wasn’t going to spill anything, then he was oh-so dead wrong.

It...was a rather tempting deal to be honest and he has to take a few hours to way out his options. Either protect a bunch of jerks who hate and bully him or go on a date with you.

“What do you wanna know?” He muttered out, a slight blush on his face.

Meanwhile, you stood outside of the interrogation room with a shocked look on your face as Wally was laughing himself to death next to you.

“I-It actually worked?!” Wally guffawed between laughs before putting a hand on your shoulder, “You know what this means, don’t you?”

Yes, yes you did.

TNBA Riddler:

Once he heard your name, he knew he was done for and that his crush on you was found out.

He’d get so embarrassed and flustered that he wouldn’t even be able to make a decision now that everyone knows he likes you.

You’re probably going to have to go in and comfort him and sorta like Arkham Eddie, his feelings for you overwhelm him.

“Fine! I’ll tell you everything!” He sighed, finally giving in.

When he does tell you all everything, give him a big kiss on the cheek and a thanks for his help.

BTAS Riddler:

The moment he hears your name and the word “Date”, he’s suddenly on their side and is high-key gonna rat out anyone who is involved for the plan.

Meanwhile, you’re just standing outside of the observation room along with Diana as he explains the entire plot in detail, when the meeting occurred, the kind of snacks they had said meeting, who brought those snacks that meeting.

Like, he’ll recall important and unimportant information about the entire plot and tell them exactly what was going to happen next.

“That...worked rather well.” Diana smirked, looking over at you, “He ‘fessed up. You know what that means.”

“Yes, I am aware of what that means, Diana!” You snapped, a red blush growing on your face.

Zero Year Riddler:

No hesitation, he’s gonna rat everyone out the moment the date with you is offered.

CAN YOU REALLY BLAME HIM!? He’s been crushing on you for like the longest time so it’d be kinda dumb to pass up an opportunity to like this!

“I’ll even tell you who hosted the meeting!” He beamed happily.

When he finally is done saying everything he needs to say, he gets so happy when he sees you and gives you an excited smile.

Meanwhile, you know that you’re going to have to go on a date with him and while you may be morally against it, you’re emotionally overjoyed!

[astranne]

Miraculous and The Light (HC)

Ok, so. This HC is based on this idea. It’s a miraculous x dc crossover and one of the best ideas, I’ve read recently. I really liked it and this is why I’m forcing myself to write my ideas down. 

Before we start the HC, I need to clear some things. Marinette becomes the guardian in age of 13, the kwami are teaching her as good as they can. Luka has the snake miraculous, Chloé the bee (but new costume), Kagami the dragon (again new costume) and Adrien is Chat Noir. Alix has the bunny and Kim the ape miraculous. (The two are chaos and they smelled Lila’s bullshit before she came back the second time). They deal with Hawkmoth as good as they can and they do good. Until Lila does her shit again. She manipulates Alya, which leads also Nino to be one of her followers and since Adrien is his best friend, he starts to listen to Lila. He becomes obsessed with Ladybug and her identity. The team doesn’t really notice, since it’s subtle and slowly becoming worse. So, now let’s start with the HC.

The Team protects Paris, Marinette is the leader

The situation becomes worse, the akumas take longer to defeat

They try to contact the JL, but nobody listens

And Chat Noir comes lesser to the fights, claiming his privat life is stressfull

At first, everybody understands, but it doesn’t stop and Chat becomes like a bad behaved child/brat 

Lila causes another Hero Day, the Team almost looses. Chat Noir didn’t show up and the Team is angry. Chloé is ready to skin a cat

After the Hero Day, they accidentally reveal their idtities. Their group becomes closer, everybody can see, they work even better now. 

Chat is envy

And Tikki is angry. No, scratch that. She’s mad. This boy could’ve been such a good cat, and now this?! 

Since Plagg is her opposite, and she’s the one of Plagg, they keep each other in balance. And they aren’t in balance at all. She takes over Marinette (while she is Ladybug) and starts to rip Chat/Adrien in shreds

Whole Paris witness this and is terrified. Who knew Ladybug had such power? 

Chat tries to save his face/life/’hero’ persona, but since Marinette is the guardian, she stripps him of his Miraculous, while Tikki wipes out his memories. Adrien’s former friends are sad, but also glad, they have one problem less

But now. Since Tikki used her more of her powers, some people notice, such as Klarion. He’s the server of chaos, but keeps in balance with creation. And the two aren’t balanced at all.

He talks to the Light, and surprise, surprise. Ra’s al Ghul and Vendal Savage felt it too

They begin to search and are surprised, that so many miraculous are active. The Light digs deeper and Vendal is very close getting up and burn Paris down. And take Hawkmoth with it

The inner circle of the Light (Vendal Savage, Klarion, Ra’s al Ghul, Lex Luthor, Deathstroke (there are still more members, but I will explain shortly))

Now, their primar goal is not to take over the world, or make everyone ‘see the light’. That’s what the ‘lesser’ members think (the ones, who are not in the inner circle) They want to keep the balance in the world, keep ‘peace’. But they know, it can’t be always peace, with creation there comes always destruction (Tikki and Plagg are totally their inspiration and mentors or whatever you could call that) And for this, they don’t always do ‘good’ things, like heroes do

Bc of this, every hero, every other villian thinks, that the light is bad. It’s a very good cover and so they can hide their true plans. So, the inner circle sends Black Manta after the Young Justice (the season 2 happens here) and go to Paris. 

They find the miraculous users while fighting an amok and an akuma and are impressed. Clearly, most of them have no training and they hold themself formidable. 

The inner circle talks with the team, which is wary. But then the kwamis recognize them and the teenagers (probably 15?) are so glad, that they finally have help. Not the one they expected, but still help

Vendal was one the first guardian, a simple man and then blessed by Tikki and Plagg. He trained other guardians and miraculous users until he almost died

Ra’s al Ghul was once a dragon, but also used the cat miraculous. This is the reason, why he can use the lazarus pit and isn’t mad

Klarion knows about the kwamis, the first gods, often makes rituals and such stuff. But he never saw a miraculous before

Deathstroke knows about the miraculous, but never knew, what power they truly hold

Lex Luthor knew about them too

The team is offered a traditional training with the League and since they are all true holders, they will master it faster than anyone before. Vendal wants to train Marinette as the guardian, after she finished hers with Ra’s. Deathstroke will be their mentor and Klarion will teach them in magic. 

Lex takes them under his wing, teaching them about buisness, money, politics and manipulating

They train and fight Hawkmoth for two years. Sometimes, Vendal takes over as Chat Noir, sometimes Ra’s, to keep Marinette and Tikki balanced. But they need to find her true holder, which isn’t that easy, while they are still in training and fighting

The team is around 17/18, when they finally defeat Hawkmoth and Mayura. The major of Paris and the president of France tell the world finally the truth about the situation (world is shocked (especially when they hear, that the Justice League didn’t help))

Now, the heroes want to help, after Wonder Woman, Aquaman and Dr. Fate, as well Zatanna, kicked their asses for being dumb bitches. When Batman doesn’t stop (he’s an ass sometimes, but I don’t hate him) they threaten to leave the JL. He doesn’t belive it and suddendly he has 4 members less. 

The four go to Paris, even when there is a heroes ban. They offer their alliance, but keep their distance, which everyone is glad. 

Since Hawkmoth and his sidechick have been defeated, the Miraculous Team retires. Or so everybody thinks. 

They all leave Paris, letting their friends and family think they have a job/go on vacation (Kagami and Luka fake their death, Marinette too) 

Lila is smug, bc she thinks, she won, since Alix and Kim just leave and Chloé is a weeping mess

The six go to the League, where they learn new/more things and become the elite squad of Ra’s. 

(Ra’s is totally a proud parent, who shows, how much his kids are better than anyones. Well, as good as he can with his stoic face)

The six still use their miraculous, but have new costumes (darker colors, mostly black) 

And so life goes on, until the JL and the YJ attack the light. They take many hits, loose many bases and the first time, the heroes meet the squad

The six are just called ‘the squad’. They switch miraculous, so the heroes don’t make connections. 

(Marinette is White (rabbit), while Chloé is Red (dragon), Kagami is Brown (monkey), Alix is Blue (snake), Kim is Scarlett (ladybug), Luka is Black (cat)) Over their costumes, they wear a typical League uniform. 

They totally rip the heroes apart

Anyway. The JL and YJ are wary about the sqaud, they all know, they are deadly. Some think, even deadlier than Deathstroke. 

After the attack, the squad meets Lady Shiva and Talia al Ghul

And her new pet project

You already know it. Jason Todd

His mind is fucked up, he doesn’t remember much until this woman in red smiles at him and just hugs him? Girl, this is the league?! 

Jason is totally Marinette’s black cat. 

He’s suddenly being trained (can you imagine a confused Jason Todd, trained by Vendal, Klarion and the rest of the team? Bc I do) and partnered with Plagg, who absolutly loves his new holder. There is so much chaos in him, he even survived the pit!

The squad goes on mission, mostly to mess with the JL, who notice, there is a new member. And oh shit- he destroys everything. And there Superman curmbles to ash... (no worries, he’s brought back)

Jason isn’t trying to kill Bruce, well, he still fights against Batman, but he doesn’t want him dead (the heroes think, the squad tries to kill them)

Some years pass (I have no idea, what happens in season 3 (Young Justice) since I didn’t have the time to watch it) the miraculous slowly become balanced again and the team is doing great

Until Talia snitches Bruce (bc she’s a little bitch) that Jason is alive. Not only that, he’s a part of the squad. Ra’s personally tries to kill his daughter- bc no Talia! You can’t just go and tell secrets! (silently crusing in many languages about the balance and how his own daughter betrayes him) He’s so angry, that he disowns his daughter and claims 7 year old Damian as his heir.

Bruce tries to hunt Jason down, but no success

Marinette takes Damian under her wing and gives him the miraculous of the tiger (Damian is so proud, that he’s a true holder). She and Jason become somewhat his parents, just like the rest of the team

Alix and Kim are totally together, as well Cloé and Kagami, while Luka has a on/off relationship with Lady Shiva, who is the true holder to the fox miraculous

Talia attacks the league, when Damian is 10 and takes him to his father

Damian hides the miraculous and Roarr, but Alfred knows. He always knows. (Totally cliche, but he’s the true holder to the peacock)

Damian acts like a brat like in canon, but can be such a softy

But only with his true family

Jason moves to Gotham, becomes the Red Hood, while Marinette becomes Scarlett (his partner) 

The rest of the squad starts to recruit new holders and start to train them, often visited by Jason and Marinette

One tragic night, Batman fights against Red Hood, almost kills him, when Scarlett breaks his arm. Robin (Damian) comes to help, freezes, when he sees his family. He stops fighting, takes a deep breath and turns to his father.

Batman is confused, but then Robin says, that this is Jason, the second Robin and that he will not fight family

Batman lashes out, being an idiot, talking some nonsense about Jason being a criminal and suddenly Robin disapears. The big bat thinks, his kid went home 

Well, he does, but not the Manor. He follows Jason and Marinette and sleeps a night there. 

Then his father starts to search him (Damian) and finds him with Jason

Totally a fight there

Until Alfred comes and makes them to sit down and talk

Jason explains everything, telling Bruce, that the squad doesn’t exist anymore, bc of Talia.

He causally says, that Marinette is his girlfriend, that they somewhat adopted Damian, after Talia was banned.

Bruce tries to wrap his head around this, but slowly accept this new part of his family

It takes some time, but Jason (Red Hood) and Marinette (Scarlett) become a part of the Batfam

They lead the new Miraculous Team in secret, keep in contact with the inner circle of the light

This goes well, until Tim finds out. 

Bruce lashes out again, bc what the fuck- his own child and his wife (they married) are spying for the light?! He tought they destroyes that damned organisation

Damian runs with them

They go to Nanda Parbat, where they meet the new recruits. 

Now, every kwami has a true holder

Balance is perfect as it can be 

Two years later, Bruce still tries to find Damian, in the hope, he isn’t with his older brother and his wife

He still is

Then Ra’s has enough of this drama, talks with the inner circle of the light and the kwamis

Kidnaps the batfam

Explains everything

Like everything

Slowly the batfam understands

Bruce is so proud that two of his sons are true holders, one of them literally can control chaos

The batfam starts to help the inner circle of the light, the other members think, this heroes finally saw the light

I can totally see the lesser memebers dumbfounded faces, when the whole Batfam shows up

Vendal starts to explain

“Batman was trained under Ra’s al Ghul himself, Batwoman followed.”

“Nightwing was trained by Deathstroke.”

“Red Hood was trained by Lady Shiva, Deathstroke and Ra’s al Ghul and is a former member of the squad.”

“Scarlett was trained by myself, Ra’s al Ghul, Lady Shiva, Deathstroke and Batman. She was the leader of the squad.”

“Red Robin was trained, like all the other Robins, by Batman. Lady Shiva took him under his wing for some time.”

“Signal was trained by Batman, Red Hood and Scarlett.”

“Batgirl was trained under Batman, Nightwing and Scarlett.”

“Black Bat grew up in the League and is the daughter of Lady Shiva.”

“Robin is my grandson and the son of Batman. He was trained under Scarlett and Red Hood, when they still were in the squad.”

(Did I forget someone?)

Gaping villians

But when Vendal says, that Batman will be part of the inner circle, as well Red Hood and Scarlett. they loose their absolute shit. 

They fought the whole time with their allies??

Vendal then also says, that this will be the last meeting and they will all forget, that the Batfam is a part of the light

“Well... we can’t take risks, can’t we? We don’t want to repeat an incident with the Young Justice again... because of this, only the members of the inner circle will remember our prupose and the light itself.” 

Batman then says to the JL, that he will leave the League, since this is going nowhere

The Batfamily is now officially a hero group and more loved than the JL, bc they don’t destroy much in their fights and if they do, Bruce Wayne pays. They keep in the shadows, which means, no civilians hurt AND many villians retire, when they hear, that Batman will fully remain in Gotham. They don’t try anything, bc he always seems to know

Okay... this is much more, than I acutally wanted to write and in the end, it didn’t came out as I first thought. But I hope you still like it, bc I like this version better

And it’s in the middle of the night, so if there are any mistakes... I don’t care :)

Masterlist

[littleplebe]

Something Wonderful - Part 7

For @idontgettechnology. I promised you kisses and a manip.

Thanks @mee2themoo for hosting the Marvel Summer Fun And Fluff Fest.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

Tony’s party was being held in a room the Hulk normally used for letting off steam. The tower’s state-of-the-art gym was no match for his sheer size and strength, therefore several supply closets, file rooms and unused offices had been cleared on the vacant 40th floor where a Hulk secure room was built, fully equipped with thick, sound proof walls, fight simulations fit for the strongest Avenger, and an advanced audio system in case the big guy was in the mood for some music.

Bruce rarely ever used it, but when he did, he came out looking a lot more at ease than he did going in.

The room was good for parties too, when Tony ended up inviting a lot of people and was unwilling to grant them clearance past the business floors.

It wasn’t that big a room that you’d get lost in if you weren’t careful, but it was big enough for Steve to feel like there was a whole chasm of nothingness between him and Jane, a dark abyss that separated his corner from hers, and the only thing keeping him from falling into it was Tony’s firm, grounding grip on his arm. With each step forward, Jane seemed farther and farther away until it felt like it would take a lifetime to reach her side.

Somewhere, it occurred to him that it had taken him a lifetime to get to this point where he could look back and see no regrets. Maybe that’s what she symbolized for him, something to look forward to.

The thought made him walk faster, causing Tony to let go of his arm. The billionaire’s excitement was infectious, rolling off of him in waves until Steve himself was bubbling with it. He was still afraid Jane wouldn’t recognize him, or if she did, she’d be indifferent toward him, but that didn’t make him want to see her any less. He caught a hint of her voice as they neared and his heart skipped a beat.

“… not looking for anyone, I swear, just being alert.”

She was glancing over her shoulder with furtive eyes, a flute of champagne clutched tightly within her grasp. This close, Steve could see the beads of sweat on her neck, the restlessness in her fingers as they tapped endlessly against the glass in her hand, and the suspicious way she kept casting her eyes about as if searching for something. She didn’t see him stumble to a halt in front of her until Thor issued a greeting in his deep, God-like voice.

“Tony, Steve, I’ve missed you dearly, my friends,” he rumbled, grasping both their hands and setting in motion a chain of events that none of them could have predicted.

It started with Jane having a mini heart attack at the sound of Steve’s name. A loud, halting gasp, like the wind being knocked out of someone, tore out of her as she whipped around and caught sight of him standing before her. A little bit of her drink spilled on her hand as she jumped, and while a startled Thor managed to steady her in time, he wasn’t fast enough to save the flute of champagne she was holding from hurtling toward the floor.

In Steve’s mind, everything happened as if in slow motion. He saw the panic on Jane’s face as she made a wild grab for the falling object, her wide eyes leaving his to focus on its fall. Someone cursed and someone else cried out an unfamiliar name. Darcy. On instinct, Steve felt himself move forward and smoothly snatch the glass out of the air, saving it from certain doom.

“Here,” he murmured, holding it out to a stunned Jane.

She swallowed and took it. “Thanks.”

They held each other’s gazes and Steve knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she recognized him and was as affected by his presence as he was by hers.

After what felt like eternity, she averted her eyes with a shaky sigh and time sped up again. The sounds of the party, of people around them talking and laughing, trickled back into Steve’s consciousness and he remembered where he was. He couldn’t look away from Jane though and wished he could pull her away from the chaos to someplace secluded where they could interact without an audience.

“Are you alright, little one?” Thor asked her in concern at the same time the woman on his other side said, “Jesus, Darcy, what happened?”

“I’m fine. I’ll go clean up,” Jane mumbled, looking down at her champagne drenched hand. Her eyes flickered to Steve one last time before she hurried away on unsteady feet.

Steve stared uncomprehendingly after her, his feet frozen in place and mind reeling from what he had just witnessed. This was not how he had imagined this meeting would go.

Tony was practically vibrating beside him, barely able to contain himself. “Whew, I hope she’s okay,” he remarked, sounding entirely too gleeful to be truly concerned for her or anybody else. He was enjoying this situation a little too much and Steve wanted to smack him over the head until he dropped that annoying smug smile from his annoying smug face.

Meanwhile, the woman who had called Jane Darcy turned to Thor and worried, “I should go check on her. I don’t know what happened.”

“Of course, my love,” Thor replied. “But won’t you let me introduce you to the Captain and Tony Stark first? Everyone here has been most eager to make your acquaintance.”

“Yeah, okay.” She met Steve’s eyes with a smile, and something suddenly clicked into place in his brain.

He looked at her, really looked. At the intelligent curve of her mouth, at the way she stood molded to Thor’s side, at all the little details that told him she was a few years older than him and couldn’t have been a student at Culver just a year ago…

Tony had been right. Steve was an idiot.

“Let me guess,” he said, trying and failing to sound calm. “You’re Jane Foster.”

The real Jane Foster nodded, looking bemused by his eagerness. “And you’re Steve Rogers.”

“Yes, I am!” And without warning, Steve stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug.

She squeaked in surprise and braced her hands on his waist. “Wha—?”

“It’s great to see you, Dr. Foster,” Steve gushed, pulling away after a brief second. “Really, really great.”

Then he spun around and left in search of Darcy, leaving a baffled trio of people in his wake.

Tony cleared his throat. “Well, that was unexpected.”

---

He found her outside in the empty corridor, leaning with her back against the wall, eyes closed and hand over her heart. It was eerily quiet out there, the insulated walls successfully masking the sounds of the party next door. Every breath he took rang louder than normal and Steve could clearly hear the change in Darcy’s breathing when he situated himself beside her, close enough to feel the heat of her body but not enough that their shoulders brushed.

She didn’t open her eyes, so he took a moment to just drink her in, feeling all of his tension from earlier melt away with one long, shuddering exhale. She hadn’t changed much but his memory had failed to do her justice, he realized. She was more beautiful than she ever was in his dreams. Steve felt like he would have to learn her all over again to draw her better next time.

“Take a picture,” she said suddenly, her lips quirking up as if she knew what he was doing. “It’ll last longer.”

She opened her eyes and rolled her head to look at him, and Steve felt his breath hitch.

“I scared you back there,” he said apologetically, although it had stung when she had fled the party upon seeing him.

“You did,” she agreed, letting the hand on her chest drop to her side, where she proceeded to pick uncomfortably at her dress. “Thor said you were away on a mission. I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

Steve nodded. He had returned early and agreed to make a token appearance at the party on Tony’s insistence. “But you were still looking for me.”

Jane—no, Darcy opened her mouth and closed it, looking none too happy about being caught. When she pointedly refused to neither confirm nor deny his statement, Steve smothered a pleased smile. “So, you know who I am.”

She gave him a look. “Everyone knows who you are.”

“Not everyone.”

“Everyone at this party does.”

Steve grimaced and scuffed the toe of his shoe over the concrete, feeling a flush climb up his cheeks. “I guess the tabloid frequenters do,” he finally acceded, hating the way it sounded. He caught the amused look on her face and rolled his eyes. “How did you find out?”

“Switched on the news channel one day and saw you fighting aliens.” Her fingers kept plucking absently at her dress and Steve’s eyes dipped to study her posture. It was stiff and awkward, and her right foot tapped restlessly against the floor. She was throwing off nervous energy in waves. “If I hadn’t met you, I wouldn’t have been able to recognize you.” She met his eyes but didn’t hold them for long. “Felt a little stupid, to be honest.”

“Why?” Steve placed a steady hand over her fidgety one and watched her suck in a sharp breath. “Do I make you nervous?”

The corners of her mouth twitched up in assent. “A little.”

“Why?” he asked again, perplexed.

She didn’t respond immediately, choosing to direct her attention to their clasped hands instead, a faint smile playing over her lips. Steve looked down as well, marveling at the way her hand almost seemed to get lost in his large one. Her entire being was slight compared to his. He could wrap himself around her and engulf her whole. She looked like she would fit perfectly into him.

Her hand twisted in his grasp and their fingers entwined. She looked up, eyes bright and cheeks lightly flushed. Steve couldn’t have looked away from her if he tried.

“You’re Captain America, Steve,” she explained softly. “Most would say you’re way, way out of my league.”

“That’s crazy and they’re stupid,” Steve disputed immediately, feeling super offended at the mere idea of what she was implying. “We’re very much in each other’s leagues.” If the Captain ruined this for him, he swore to God he would give everything up and become a naked mountain hermit. “I’m still me. You know me,” he insisted.

“I really don’t,” Darcy replied.

“Enough to have kissed me that day before I left,” Steve continued undeterred. It earned him a startled laugh from her. Apparently, she hadn’t expected him to bring up the kiss anytime soon.

Well, tough luck. Steve hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since he had followed her out of the party.

“That was different,” Darcy argued, but she was smiling. “You’re really hot.”

“So are you,” Steve shot back, irritated. Couldn’t she see how breathtaking she was?

“But then I realized I made Captain America play a silly game—”

“It wasn’t a silly game.”

“And I feared you wouldn’t remember me—”

Steve wanted to laugh; she couldn’t be further from the truth. “Darcy,” her real name rolled off his tongue with surprising ease, effectively shutting her up. He turned on his feet to face her, squeezed her fingers, and murmured seriously, “I couldn’t forget you if I tried.”

His declaration was met with silence as a dizzying array of emotions flashed across Darcy’s face. She went from skeptical to hopeful to awed to something else entirely that Steve couldn’t quite decipher. Her expression softened and she looked at him in a way that now made him nervous.

“Okay?” he asked, just to make sure she understood.

“Okay,” she whispered, sounding giddy.

“Any other doubts?” His voice dropped as he stepped into her, unable to hold himself back anymore.

Darcy promptly stopped breathing and forgot to reply, her blue eyes trained intently on him, waiting.

Steve blew out a breath. She wanted this. She wanted him. The knowledge was enough to send his heart racing. Feeling rather bolstered by this realization, he brought his free hand up to cup her neck, gently tracing his thumb along her jaw and under her chin until her eyelids grew heavy and she tilted her face up to meet his. Absently, he wondered if she still tasted like monsoon and wild berries. He supposed he was going to find out in a second. Her lips parted, inches away from his, when—

The door leading to the party burst open, blasting a thunderous wave of unwanted noise into the corridor. An unassuming Jane stepped out and jumped when she saw them. “Oh, jeez!” she gasped, becoming flustered as soon as her eyes took in the sight before her. “Oh, crap! I interrupted a moment. Shit, I’m so sorry!”

Startled, Darcy wrenched her hand from Steve’s and he took a small step away from her, feeling heat rise up his cheeks. “Dr. Foster?” he prompted, sounding pained.

“No, no, consider me gone,” Jane said with a hasty step back. “I just wanted to check on Darcy. Sorry, please continue.” She scurried back the way she came, leaving behind an awkward silence.

There was a beat in which Steve glared resentfully at the spot where Jane had stood. Then, Darcy giggled, slapping a hand to her face in embarrassment. “Sorry.”

Steve turned back to her with a sigh and dropped his forehead to her shoulder, mentally cursing his luck. There was only one thing to do, he decided, as his mind weighed several options. Either they stayed where they were and likely be interrupted again, or he whisked Darcy away to a private setting and continued where they left off.

For obvious reasons, the latter sounded more appealing. But she was sliding her hand up his arm, over his shoulder and into the hair at the base of his neck, scratching lightly, and it felt so amazing, so utterly electrifying, that Steve just didn’t want to move.

“Darcy,” he breathed, suppressing a shiver of pleasure. “How long are you here for?”

“Just the weekend,” she replied. And while he wanted her to stay longer, two days were more than enough. For now.

With great effort, he pushed away from her and stated, “We shouldn’t stand here. Will you come to my place with me?”

She hesitated, but only for a second. “Yes.”

---

When Steve had moved into Stark Tower, he had assumed it’d only be for a short time. The location was convenient. S.H.I.E.L.D. offices were nearby, so were the other Avengers. Debriefing sessions lasted long and the paperwork they had to do was extremely thorough. By the end of the day, Steve was too tired to go anywhere else. The tower was being majorly revamped and renovated after the battle of New York, but Tony didn’t mind having a super soldier camped out on his couch, so Steve had decided to hang around until the shock of aliens had worn off and the city was well on its way to rebuilding.

Like him, Bruce too had moved in, setting up shop in one of Tony’s labs, and soon, Thor found his way back to Earth. It was comforting to be surrounded by people who knew what it felt like to be different.

Before he knew it, thoughts of going back to his old Brooklyn apartment bit the dust as Steve quickly became used to living in the tower. Tony, in his over-the-top generosity, presented him with an entire floor, to do with it as he pleased. And although his lavish new lifestyle filled with undeserved luxuries discomfited him in more ways than one, Steve appreciated the privacy his personal floor afforded him. No one but the Avengers, their Head of Security, and Pepper Potts had access to it.

Which is why the sight of an unfamiliar suitcase sitting suspiciously outside his door caught him unaware.

He glanced at Darcy, who was silently admiring the framed paintings hanging along the hallway, smiling every now and then when she recognized one. “Oh wow, that’s not a very good replica, is it?” She chuckled, pointing at fake Mona Lisa. “Look how wide her smirk is.”

Steve’s attention was on the suitcase. They came to a stop before it and he bent down to examine the shady item. He had never seen it before. It was brown in color, and looked and felt perfectly normal. Steve nudged it a bit, wondering if he should pick it up. He couldn’t hear anything ticking or rattling around inside.

Before he could take any drastic measures, like call security to vet the bag, Darcy let out a surprised exclamation.

“Hey, that’s mine!” She took the suitcase from his hands, staring at it in confusion. “How the hell did it get here?”

The moment she claimed it, Steve’s paranoia subsided and he knew whose foul handiwork this was. A thrill shot through him but he mostly felt embarrassed. “Tony,” he explained with a groan. “He knows about us and… well, he must have sent Happy to deliver it here.”

Darcy went red, the meaning behind Stark’s gesture not lost on her. Steve unlocked his door and waited for her to address it but all she said was, “Kind of an ass, isn’t he?” before following him inside—and really, the human heart shouldn’t be able to jump and flip like that. If it leaped any higher, it would lodge in his throat and choke him with anticipation.

“This is where you live?” Darcy whistled as they stepped into a large, sparsely furnished living room. Most of it was vacant but Steve preferred the sitting area anyway. It consisted of a plush leather couch flanked by two comfortable armchairs, a dark oak coffee table, a bookcase neatly stocked with paperbacks, a 52 inch television sitting on a multi-storage TV stand, and a number of nearly dead potted plants sitting on the window sill.

Steve dragged a hand along the back of his neck. “Yeah.” He caught her looking at the plants and explained unnecessarily, “I always forget to water them.”

Darcy chuckled. “I figured.”

“This way.” He felt a bit awkward leading her into his bedroom but there was only one bathroom and it was in there. He told her to use it if she wanted, but she beelined for the bed instead, dropping her suitcase to the floor and perching on the edge of his silk sheets to kick off her heels.

Her feet were pale, as if they hadn’t been getting any blood circulation. “Oh, God, that feels better,” she groaned, massaging them with both hands.

Steve watched her, trying not to feel out of place in his own home. He’d never had a woman in there before and Darcy seemed to fill the place in a way he hadn’t imagined possible. She was physically tiny but her presence all but surrounded and overpowered his, making it feel like they were in her house, not his. It was at once both humbling and arousing.

Unable to decide whether he should join her on the bed or pull up a chair, Steve busied himself unbuttoning his suit jacket and shrugging it off. “I searched for you,” he said the first thing that popped into his head and Darcy looked up, curious.

“Huh?” She let her feet go and they dangled inches above the floor, still very pale.

“I Googled you,” Steve clarified. “Some time after I came back.”

“You Googled me?” she repeated, arching a brow. “What did you find?”

He shot her a dry look. “Some scientific papers by a Dr. Jane Foster who lives in New Mexico and definitely isn’t you.”

The beginnings of an impish grin bloomed on Darcy’s face. “Oops,” she said unapologetically. “If only you’d known S.H.I.E.L.D. has a file on us… hmm, no, it wouldn’t have mattered as most of the stuff is probably redacted.”

Steve frowned as he rolled up his sleeves and slowly made his way to her. He hadn’t thought of scouring S.H.I.E.L.D.’s database. “You could have told me,” he tried not to sound like he was complaining. “Before I left, you could have told me the truth.”

Darcy looked down. “You didn’t leave me much choice, did you?” she said, making him wince. “Literally jumping outta my window in your haste to get away from me.”

“Yeah. About that…” Steve began.

Darcy shook her head. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” he said quickly. “And I want to.” He swayed uncertainly on the balls of his feet before deciding to just screw it and take a seat beside her. “I was running away when I met you.”

“I know,” Darcy said with a soft smile.

Steve nodded. He hadn’t exactly tried to hide his pain from her. “My life felt like a never-ending nightmare that I was constantly struggling to wake up from. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t breathe, I built a wall around myself to keep everything out because it was too difficult to handle the grief that came with acknowledging what had happened to me.”

“Oh, Steve.” He didn’t have to look at her to hear the sadness in her voice.

“Being with you,” he continued quickly, afraid he would ruin the moment if he stretched this any longer, “even if it was for one night, put a nice big crack in that wall. It was welcome but it also wasn’t. I was confused and scared. So, I did what I thought was best. I made a run for it.”

“Why?”

“I guess,” he swallowed hard, “I guess I felt like I was betraying my old life and everyone in it whom I loved. Like it’d be selfish of me to try and be happy, you know?”

Darcy didn’t respond. Steve knew she didn’t—couldn’t—understand. She never would. Because she hadn’t lived the same life he had. But when he looked up to meet her eyes, he saw himself reflected in them, bright and clear. For a moment, he was all she saw and Steve treasured being the center of her attention. He had stopped trying to make sense of why she meant so much to him and what it was about her that attracted him like a moth to flame. It wasn’t just her beauty. It was something deeper, something inexplicable that had brought her to him again. Fate, maybe.

Steve didn’t believe in soul mates but he’d be willing to make an exception just this once.

“Alright, enough moping,” Darcy said abruptly, and Steve blinked to see her heaving her suitcase onto the bed. “I’ve something to show you.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Close your eyes,” she ordered.

He didn’t think to ask why and obediently closed his eyes. Darcy was rummaging for something in her bag and whatever she pulled out wasn’t anything hard or brittle. It wasn’t food because he couldn’t smell it. It wasn’t made with paper because the sound of it was different. It wasn’t a board game because he couldn’t hear rattling. If he had to guess, he’d say it was something soft… like a piece of clothing. The sound of it whispered through the air, easily captured by his enhanced hearing, and Steve’s heart sped up. Whatever it was, smelled like her. It had to be another dress. And by the sounds of it, she was changing. Right in front of him.

Oh, God. He squeezed his eyelids tighter and imagined a hundred different outfits with a hundred different colors that she’d want to show him.

“Alright,” came her voice at last. “You can look.”

Steve opened his eyes slowly, not wanting to appear too eager. The first thing he noticed was Darcy standing before him with her arms spread wide and a big smile on her face. The second thing he noticed were bare legs. The third thing… well, shit.

“Ta-da!” Darcy exclaimed, proudly showing off a familiar flannel shirt, faded with wear. “I kept it.”

It was the same shirt Steve had left in her possession a year and a half ago, the same shirt she wore in his dreams, always managing to pull a rather visceral reaction out of him whenever he thought of her in it. The same shirt he had expected never to see again. Yet there it was, wrapped around her like a blanket, practically drowning her in its depths.

“This doesn’t mean you can have it back,” Darcy said when he failed to react. His brain had pretty much short circuited the moment he had opened his eyes and laid them on her. “It’s mine now.”

“Is that right?” Steve murmured, sweeping his eyes over her body. The shirt looked well-worn. A couple of buttons over her belly were missing and the fabric was unraveling at the seams.

Something inside him jumped at the sight. Heat sparked in his gut, shooting up his spine like electricity, and Steve acted on impulse. He grabbed a fistful of her shirt and gave it a strong tug. Darcy gasped as she stumbled forward into him, her hands flying to his shoulders for support. She ended up between his knees, head bent over his, and there was no interruption this time as Steve sunk his fingers into her hair and surged up to claim her mouth.

It was a bold move, one that hadn’t afforded her any time to think, but Steve didn’t have to worry about that at all. Darcy responded straight away, parting her lips and sighing into the kiss like she had been waiting for him to do it forever. Her hands climbed up his shoulders to cradle his jaw and she leaned further into him, tipping his head back and stealing his breath away.

It was unlike any kiss he’d ever had. Soft yet intense, innocent yet hot, brief yet infinite. Steve felt like he was losing control with every press of her lips and yet he couldn’t help giving into that feeling. It was amazing and all-encompassing and it made his blood sing. He tightened his grip on her shirt and drew her further in, dragging a breathy moan from the back of her throat. The sound went straight to his core and rippled out into a full-body shudder.

“Wow,” Darcy panted when they broke apart moments later. “I’m sure glad I let Jane talk me into coming here tonight.”

Steve grudgingly relinquished his hold on her and combed his fingers through his hair, smiling fondly. “So am I.” He eyed his—her—shirt and nodded to it. “You look beautiful in it.”

She laughed and hugged it to her body. “No, I don’t. You just like me in your clothes.”

He couldn’t argue with that. She did look beautiful though, even if she didn’t believe it.

“Are you hungry?” he asked her, because if he didn’t change the subject, he’d end up pulling her to him again. “We didn’t stay for dinner, did we?”

“We could go back,” Darcy suggested. “I can put my dress on real quick.”

Steve didn’t like that idea at all. Nobody was putting on any dresses. It was counter-productive to his plans. Not that his plans involved anything untoward. Just a lot of admiring. And kissing, if she allowed.

“I have food here,” he told her, and Darcy grinned knowingly.

“Okay.” She looked around his room as if seeing it for the first time. “Can we eat in here?”

Steve nodded. “Wherever you want. But first,” He patted the spot beside him and waited for her to sit down. “I want to show you something.”

“What is it?” She watched curiously as he bent down and pulled a box of Monopoly from under the bed. “Oh no, Steve. I hate Monopoly.”

“Look inside.” He opened the box to reveal her favorite game.

Darcy gasped. It was an exact replica of Royal Rescue done in water colors. Steve hadn’t planned on showing it to her. But he wanted her to know he didn’t think of it as a silly game. It had saved him from a nightmare once after all.

“Where did you get this?” Darcy asked, staring down at the game board in surprise.

“I made it,” Steve told her shyly. “Natasha played it once and is now obsessed with it. We often stage rescue missions for the perpetually kidnapped princess.” He paused and watched her for her reaction. “Do you like it?”

“You painted this?” Darcy asked with mingled awe and confusion. “Why?”

Steve shrugged. “I couldn’t find it in the stores or online and it led me to assume it must be a family game.”

She nodded. “It is. My gran made it.” She plucked a playing piece from the box and examined it. “You remember the green thing we played on last time? It caught on something sharp and ripped right down the middle.”

“Oh.” Good thing he had painted a new game board. Now he knew what to give her when she left for New Mexico.

“Where did you get these playing pieces?”

“Oh, I nicked them from several different games in Clint’s stash,” Steve replied, eyes twinkling with mischief. “He hasn’t figured it out yet.”

A slow smile spread across Darcy’s face till she was literally beaming with joy. “I can’t believe you did this,” she gushed, sliding the Monopoly box to the side and wrapping her arms around him in a hug.

“I can’t believe you kept my shirt,” Steve retorted, happily hugging her back.

“It’s my shirt.”

“Right.”

She pulled away to smolder at him. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

Steve cleared his throat. “And I’m going to allow that, but only ‘cause you asked ni—”

Darcy laughed and tackled him down on the bed, pressing her lips to his in a sound kiss.

Maybe it was just as well that Steve was reborn in the 21st century. It wasn’t as bad as he had feared it’d be.

The  End

[softeddiek]

for axg week 2019

day 3: reunion

read on ao3

book canon only, with spoilers for all books + the ‘Mercy’ sample chapter from TWOW; arya is aged up for reasons 

i will not ask you where you came from 

It’s Harwin that recognizes her first. It seems rather fitting that it would be him. He had known her as a child; served her father in his life and was now serving her mother in her death. It had been him that had known her to be Arya Stark when the Brotherhood had found them. Gendry had only known she’d been highborn because she’d told him.

They had been making their way back to the inn with some of their brothers. Gendry stayed there most of the time, smithing and keeping watch over the lot of orphans that had collected over the years, but whenever a wayward Lannister or Frey came across their path, he took part in the short trip to Lady Stoneheart. He didn’t used to make the entire trip, choosing to turn back at the river so as not to leave the orphans alone too along. (But really it wasn’t just about the orphans. Deep down, beneath his simmering anger, some part of him, a very small part, would remember why he had joined the Brotherhood in the first place. Truthfully, it was that part of him that made his feet turn back around.)

That had changed once they had gotten news of the wedding. After that, he made it a point to go to as many hangings as he could. See the deaths of as many Freys and Lannisters and traitorous Northmen as he could. The news hadn’t affected Lady Stoneheart the same way. She’d believed her daughters to have been dead all along, refusing to believe that the Bolton bastard had married Arya. Gendry had never found it in himself to face her—that horrible, milky face, shredded to ribbons—and tell her that her daughter hadn’t died; that it was Gendry that had lost her. It seemed Harwin and Lem and all the others had never gotten around to it neither.

The lady had been extra swift with her justice since they had lost the Kingslayer and the ugly woman knight right out from under them. It’s after one of the more brutal trials that they’ve found themselves creeping up slowly through the trees upon a small figure with their cloak up huddled in front of a fire. The cold had been creeping into the Riverlands for years; snow was a daily occurrence. But even still, what fool would chance a fire in the middle of the day? The Riverlands had not been safe for as long as Gendry had been there, and they had been able to see the smoke from a league away.

“Just looks like a small boy to me,” he whispers to his right.

“Boys can be lions or wolves. Pretty smelling roses even. Same as some of us was,” someone bites back at him.

He glances over at his brothers, sees their hands slowly moving to hilts and quivers, sneers on their faces. He is suddenly transported back to when he was a young boy, coming out behind a wall with Hot Pie, only to be met with some of these very men. Friendlier faces. They wear no friendly looks now, even knowing this one small boy would stand no chance against them. Sometimes he thinks there is little point in even calling them a brotherhood anymore. They are not brothers. The only things that bind them all together now are hate and anger.

He shakes his head, clearing it of thoughts of the past that do him little good anymore. He notices that he has missed the signal, his brothers already advancing silently without him. He takes a quick step forward, onto the freshly fallen layer of snow, when he hears a crack. Grimacing as he looks down, he sees the end of a twig he has stepped on, half buried beneath the snow.

He can sense everyone has stopped moving at the noise and looks up to see the back of the boy’s head is tilted at an angle, like an animal might. The boy makes no further movements, though it’s obvious he knows someone is there.

“Alright,” Harwin says, his jovial tone holding a bit of an edge. He steps out to where the boy would see him if they turn around. “I don’t want no trouble. Turn around nice and slow lad, hands out where I can see them.”

They hesitate a moment, head still cocked. “And your friends? Do all five of them ‘want no trouble’?”

Gendry feels his eyebrows shoot up, both in surprise at them knowing just how many of them there are, and at their voice being distinctly feminine.

The girl does not wait for an answer, and Harwin doesn’t seem like to think of one quick enough. She stands up like he told her to, slowly, but hasn’t yet turned around. The rest of them give up the pretense and come forward, forming a half circle around her.

She brings her hands up and slowly lifts the cloak off her head, revealing short cropped brown hair. Harwin has a look on his face that seems more thoughtful than the situation warrants. She takes small shuffling steps to turn around, showing off her face to each of them one by one. It’s when it is fully exposed to Harwin that Gendry hears the man suck in a sharp breath. Gendry looks over to him as he says, “Milady. We’d not thought to see you again.”

He can feel confusion ripple among his brothers. It is then that he looks away, letting his eyes roam over the girl.

She would be small for a boy, but for a girl she looks rather healthy, well-fed. If he had to guess, he would put her at no older than five and ten. Her jerkin and breeches look clean but foreign, and the cloak she has on is only a little faded. It is when he gets to her face, to those eyes, that the breath is knocked from him. He hasn’t seen those eyes in years. Her hair is similar in length to when he had last seen her, only this time the locks are more even. Like they’d been cut in a purposeful way, and not sheared off to make her look like a boy. She is no longer the scrawny, malnourished girl she had been in their youth, but she is undoubtedly Arya Stark.

“Neither had I,” she replies. Her voice knocks him out of his observations and all he can feel is an overwhelming sense of relief. Relief that she isn’t dead. That she hadn’t met her end at Saltpans. And no sooner had he thought that then was the relief snuffed out, replaced by guilt. Because if she hadn’t died then that meant that the rumors were true, and she had been wedded. Wedded and bedded by the Bolton bastard. The guilt he’s been carrying for years in his heart and in the constant scowl he wears hits hard as he thinks on what horrors her husband is said to have inflicted upon her.

“We looked for you, milady. All around the Riverlands we followed Clegane’s trail.”

“Did you, Harwin?” she asks, eyes narrowed as if looking to catch him in a lie.

She does not wait for his answer, instead looking around at the faces of his brothers, taking them all in carefully, perhaps trying to see if she recognizes any. Her face is carefully blank until her eyes reach him. It is only then that she allows for the shadow of a smile.

“Gendry.”

He realizes then he has not thought to say a word up to this point. He clears his throat, feeling as though there is something lodged in it. “Arya,” he manages to get out.

She faces Harwin again, the shadow gone. “I’m heading North,” she starts, turning back toward her fire to put it out. All of his brothers but Harwin have their weapons at the ready, prepared to stop her from leaving. “And this time, you won’t stop me,” she finishes, unwavering at the sound of steel that has been drawn.

“Put your bloody weapons down,” Harwin barks.

“And why should we? The fuck’s this?” pipes up Luke, not recognizing this older version of Arya.

Harwin ignores him. “North, milady? Is that not where you have just come from?”

Her brow furrows. “Why would I have come from the North?”

“We had heard it that…” Harwin looks lost. “Well news had been that you were Lady Bolton now,” he says gently. In fact, the Harwin before him looks downright paternal compared to the Harwin that had been present the last few years. More like the one who had gently prodded Arya along when she had been the Brotherhood’s captive, and less like the hardened outlaw that hung the noose around the necks of their enemies as often as any other fervent supporter of Lady Stoneheart.

“Oh that.” She seems unperturbed. “No, I’ve not been North. It seems some other girl was unfortunate enough to marry a Bolton in my stead.” And just like that, Gendry’s emotions swing right back around. She hadn’t been married. Whatever Arya had been through, wherever she had been, it was likely a great deal better than being butchered at Saltpans or trapped in her family’s castle with a monster in her bed. He can’t help but let his shoulders sag a bit from the relief.

“Then where have you been, milady?”

All that meets his question is silence.

“If I had to guess,” one of his brothers pipes up when it becomes clear that she will not answer. His eyes begin to roam up and down Arya’s body. Gendry can feel his fists clenching at that. It’s the Tyroshi. He has been with the Brotherhood for a while now, joined right before Lady Stoneheart had taken over, though Gendry has never spoken to him. But it’s hard to miss him with his dyed hair and thick accent. “I would say this girl has spent time across the Narrow Sea.”

He sees Arya’s jaw tick for a fraction of a second before it stills, her face a calm mask. “Valar morghulis,” the Tyroshi adds, with what he must imagine is a charming smile thrown her way, speaking in that odd tongue Gendry had heard Greenbeard use before he had gone and left them. Arya just sends a hard look the man’s way, eyes steely.

“I really ought to be going now,” she says, directing her words toward Harwin and Gendry while eyeing the Tyroshi. “I have a long trip and it’s not getting any warmer.”

“Wait, milady,” Harwin says none too quietly, hands coming out as if placating a spooked horse. “We can’t be letting you go just yet.”

Her left eyebrow shoots up and all eyes are drawn to the hand that she’s inching toward her waist, slipping between the fold of her cloak where she undoubtedly has a weapon. “I don’t think you’ll be getting much gold out of me Harwin. There’s no one left to ransom me to I’m afraid. Don’t worry, I’m sure Beric won’t be too upset with you.”

At the mention of their former leader, over half of their faces turn weary. She falters at that, clearly expecting to get more of a fight out of these men. She looks over at Gendry, a question in her gaze.

Seeing no one else is ready to break the news, he manages to find his voice. “Arya, things have…changed since you left.” He takes a gulp, knowing where this will go. Knowing what they will have to reveal to her. Knowing she will likely hate them for what they have turned her mother into. Hate him for what he let them turn her mother into. His eyes flicker toward Harwin. His jaw is clenched but otherwise he gives Gendry no indication as to what he should say. He feels her eyes still on him, looks back to see those grey pools urging him on. The concern she wears is the most emotions she has shown since he has set eyes on her.

Taking a breath, he steels himself, sends a small prayer in his head to R’hllor and all of the other gods he has never been sure he believes in. A prayer that this won’t send her running, the horror that her mother has become. Not when he has just gotten her back.

“Beric’s dead.”

--

Gendry hears nothing. It’s all silence. He knows he should be hearing the chirping of crickets, the hooting of owls. And, distantly, maybe even the howling of wolves. Some sounds of life. He knows he should hear Harwin, cursing as he tries to break chinks into the frozen streambed, and he certainly should have heard his own loud, crashing footsteps as he hurried from the tent. But he hears nothing.

Suddenly, Harwin is in his face, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him. Then he hears it. A ragged gasping sound. Looking for the source, his eyes finally land on Arya, kneeling in the snow by the stream, scrubbing furiously at her hands. He jumps at that and heads toward her, bending down beside her. Her motions are jerky and quick, but she stops and looks over at him, a wild look in her eyes.

“Lady Stoneheart…your mother” Harwin begins behind them.

“Don’t call her that,” she snaps back.

He bows his head a bit, in shame. “Lady Catelyn—"

“Don’t call her that either. That thing was not my mother.” He can feel her crackling with rage beside him, a sense of clarity having returned to her.

“It was done with good intentions, milady. Beric himself is the one that did it.”

“I don’t care about Beric’s intentions. Or yours, or your stupid fucking brotherhood’s.” She pauses. “My mother should have been allowed to rest. She should have been allowed to return to my father.” Her eyes grow glassy, and he thinks she is about to let out a sob, but instead she turns back to the stream to try and wash the remaining blood off her hands.  

Harwin sighs, a large furrow to his brow. Gendry can tell he is torn. All he has ever known is the Starks. His father was Lord Stark’s man and then he himself was. He had seen the Stark children grow up and it was Lord Stark that had sent him out with Beric to catch The Mountain. And now a Stark has killed the Stark he was serving. But Gendry will be damned if he lets Harwin tell the Brotherhood about what happened in that tent.

After Beric’s death, they had stopped giving fair trials. Hanging any enemy of Lady Stoneheart’s, helping her take her revenge. Anyone left with them now eagerly supported her, had the same thirst for revenge as she did. Gendry included. He knows that no argument about Arya being Stoneheart’s daughter will stop them from decrying her for a murderer. It won’t stop them from trying to hang her too.

“You’re going to let us go, Harwin,” he says with purpose, leaving little room for the man to argue. “You’re going to tell them we left in the middle of the night, choosing to head back to the inn. Then maybe we were set upon by Freys or some other River lords. We were never in that tent.”

He looks over at Arya, still crouched beside him in the snow. Her hands are now pink and shriveled and she is levelling a cool gaze at Harwin.

“Aye.” The man nods his head. “You were never in that tent.” Gendry lets out an inaudible sigh, grateful that Harwin’s loyalty had extended to Arya this time, rather than the Brotherhood.

“You’ll need to go, quick. You know what paths the Brotherhood takes boy, what towns they stop in. Be careful.” He takes one last look at Arya before turning to make his way back up the sloped incline.

“Harwin,” Arya calls out.

“Milady?”

“What do you know of funeral rites in the Riverlands?”

“Very little, milady.”

“You’ll ask?” Her tone says that he must.

“Yes.” His back turns to them one last time as he walks off into the night.

Sensing she needs a minute longer, Gendry reluctantly settles down beside her in the snow, letting it soak through his breeches. Silence hangs between them, but his head is full of questions. Where has she been all of this time, if not in the north? Had she really been in Essos? How did she survive on her own? Had she been alone?

Instead he blurts out, “Everyone thought you were dead.”

She turns to look at him, a strange look passing over her face. “Arya Stark was dead,” is all she ends up saying, before looking down at her hands. He had known something was off when he had seen her again. That restless energy she’d had before she had disappeared seemed to be gone, replaced by something calmer. Her words had a different inflection to them.

“We need to leave before dawn. The Brotherhood’s not the only group of outlaws out here. If we head—”

“We don’t need to do anything, Gendry. I’m going North. And you should stay here.” She begins wiping snow off her breeches, preparing to get up.

He stares at her, dumbfounded. “Course I’m coming with you.”

“Don’t be stupid Gendry.”

He can feel his jaw clench and his nostrils flare. “No, Arya, you don’t be stupid.” She looks at him upon hearing her name, her movements stopping. “I thought you had died. I couldn’t stop you from running and for years I thought it had been my fault. And then we heard about your wedding—”

“It wasn’t my wedding,” she snaps. There’s anger in her voice now too, a hint of the old Arya returning.

“Yeah, well I know that now, don’t I? I was finally hearing you’re alive, only to be told it might’ve been better if you actually had died. But now, here you are, strolling through the woods, easy as you please, and I find you. I actually find you, safe and alive. Not dead, and not married to some bastard.” Her eyes have become downcast at that, and he sees her teeth are worrying her bottom lip, just as she used to do.

“Arya,” he hesitates, “I didn’t spend the last few years taking care of orphans and serving your mother for no reason.” He stops there, figuring it best to let a few things be left unsaid for now. “So, yeah, I’m not letting you leave without me. Not this time.”

She nods, the moon casting her pink, cold bitten cheeks into light. He clears his throat. “Alright. Like I said, we should leave soon. But why north?”

Her brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“The Riverlands aren’t safe Arya, but the North’s not much better. And if we get there, and someone recognizes you and realizes that the real Arya Stark isn’t holed up in some castle…”

“Gendry,” she starts, “all of my family is dead.” She lets out a humorless laugh. “I’ve just seen to that.” He winces. “Jon…well I’ve heard things about Jon, and I need to see for myself. I need to go north.”

“And your sister?”

“Sansa? What about her?”

“Not long ago we heard some news about her. Some say she’s been in the Vale with some lord from King’s Landing.”

She shakes her head. “No. No, I went to the Vale. Sansa’s long dead, I know it. The imp probably killed her,” she says with disgust.

He is taken aback by how much Arya’s reminds him of her mother in this moment. Or the version of her mother he had known. “Stoneheart was sure it wasn’t her neither. You really want to go north then? The winds are rising Arya, and I may have never been further than the Riverlands, but even I know it’ll be a hard journey.”

She leans forward into him, placing her left hand on his right. He looks down at where they’re joined. He knows her hands are freezing from drying in the cold night air, but all he feels there is heat. Her hands are still as small and soft as he remembers, though he can feel the slight dig of callouses along them. Shaking his head to clear it, he looks back up at her, their eyes meeting.

“I’ve heard horrible things about Jon, Gendry, all the way in—” she stops. “I need to see for myself. I need to find out what has happened to my brother.”

He’s noticed her incomplete sentence, but, seeing the distraught look in her eyes, drops it, finding himself wanting to reassure her. “We don’t get much news from the north Arya. I have no idea what’s waiting for us up there, but we will. We’ll find out about your brother.”

She shakes her head up and down quickly, eyes glistening. She looks tired, and Gendry doesn’t blame her. Who knows how much sleep she had been able to get traveling out here all on her own? After what she had been through today though, he doubted she would be having a peaceful sleep in a while.

He looks up at the sky, sees that they have been sitting there much longer than he had planned to. He is finally starting to feel the snow that has soaked through into his clothes and his ass is freezing. He looks back down at her, prepared to tell her they really need to leave this time, when he catches a peculiar look on her face. She is staring intently at his own, only her eyes aren’t focused on his, they seem to be focused on…oh.

His face starts to heat up despite the cold as she continues staring at his lips unabashedly. Her eyes flicker up to his quickly, the hand that had still been resting on his own now reaching up and landing firmly on his chest. He feels frozen as he sees her face moving slowly toward his. He is intensely aware right now of just how different this Arya is from the one he had  all those years ago. For one, that Arya had been a child, hounded by hunger and constantly on the run. This Arya is near a woman grown, her body having filled out from age and consistent meals. That Arya had been wild, prone to outbursts and impatience. This Arya is calmer, with a calculating, almost predatory look in her eyes. As she closes more distance between the two of them, her cold breath mingling with his own, he realizes just how attracted he is to her.

He gulps nervously, knowing he should pull away. That he should insist they leave, right now. But he cannot seem to look away from her eyes, sensing a hint of vulnerability beneath the predatory gleam. He breathes out softly, nearly whispering, “Arya, what are you—” She cuts him off with her mouth. Her lips are cold and firm against his. They move against his for just a second before she breaks away.

He is staring at her, dumbfounded and confused. He can see the heat coloring his cheeks mirrored on her own. “Just wanted to know what it would be like as Arya Stark,” she says. His forehead scrunches up in thought. He figures there must be some truth to what the Tyroshi said about where she had been, given the odd way she has been prone to speak every few sentences. He had never heard anyone in Westeros refer to themselves by their own name like that.  

He can barely form the words to ask about it when she says, “We should head out now. Dawn will come soon, and we’ve been here too long.” She stands, a hand offered out to him to pull him up. He grabs onto it, bringing himself to his feet. “We’ll need to steal some horses now that the Brotherhood has mine.”

She begins walking away from him, opposite the direction Harwin had gone. He can’t help shaking his head a bit at the confidence with which she is guiding them, despite not knowing her way around. He is glad to have seen glimpses of the old Arya within this new woman that has returned to him. He will not ask where she has come from just yet, who she has been with, or what she has been through. They will have plenty of time to speak on their way north, and he does not expect her to be willing to yield that information just yet.

As he begins following her, it feels as though a weight has been lifted from his chest. He is not proud of things he has done over the years in her mother’s name. In her name. As much as he had taken care of those orphans at the inn to try to atone for what had happened, it did not erase all of the blood that the Brotherhood had spilled and the death that they had brought that he had turned a blind eye to. Assisted in, even. Perhaps, over time, Gendry will be able to speak about that too.

He has caught up with her when she suddenly stops, glancing over her shoulder at him to say, “You still walk too loudly.” A small smile graces both of their lips as she faces forward again and continues on. Yes, they will have time.

As they continue on their way, moonlight the only thing to guide them, Gendry thinks he hears the sound of wolves in the distance, louder than they have been in months.

[stillthewordgirl]

LOT/CC fic: In This Life

In one Earth, Rip didn't time-scatter the Legends--he sent the Waverider spinning through the multiverse, damaged, its crew trying to find a way home. And when that Earth's Sara and Leonard approach another Earth's Waverider, they'll find out just what a life and a destiny can turn on.

This is a one-shot (probably) and I'm not even sure where it came from. My tendency to "what-if," I suppose! Just bear in mind that the Earth this starts out in is not canon-Legends Earth (which I suppose becomes apparent very soon).

Many thanks to LarielRomeniel, who kept me from making a rather big goof!

Can also be read here at AO3 or here at FF.net.

Sara can’t sleep.

That’s not so unusual, really. She doesn’t need much rest, hasn’t since the League—both times. And all this bouncing around through different Earths and timelines has her internal clock even more screwed up than usual. (Damnit, Rip.)

Those are good reasons for why she finds herself wandering the corridors while everyone else is sleeping and the ship hurtles through the timestream and—well, whatever they should call the space between Earths. Excellent reasons, really. But they’re not the real reasons, and she knows it, and—as she steps into the doorway of the galley and stops—she knows she’s not alone in that.

Leonard glances up from where he’s sitting at the counter, no surprise at all in his expression or his eyes. He has a still mostly full drink in front of him, and his right sleeve is rolled up to his shoulder, exposing both his upper arm and the prosthesis that had taken the place of his right hand, wrist and forearm after he’d frozen (and smashed) it off.

Sara can tell that he’s been rubbing the muscles in the upper arm—the prosthesis, created by Gideon, is a good one, far beyond what’s commonly available back in 2016, but it’s still taking a lot of getting used to. And there’s still pain, both phantom and in the nerves and muscles remaining as they grow more accustomed to the new setup. (The nerve reconnections in particular had been excruciating.)

So, he’s rather more exposed than usual, but he doesn’t flinch as they meet each other’s eyes. Sara allows herself a small smile for that as she moves slowly into the room and toward him. 

They’re both thinking about what happened earlier in the day, after they’d realized where their most recent jump through Earths had taken them—and after they’d left the ship to approach the other Waverider. How could they not? Sara doesn’t fully know what the other Mick had told Leonard, but she knows what the other Sara had let slip to her. Which may have been more than the other woman had intended.

But... “Hey,” is all she says, moving past him to take a seat, swiveling toward him. “Couldn’t sleep?”

That gets her a wry smirk and a left-shouldered shrug. “Nah,” Leonard drawls in return, fingers continuing to idly rub at the muscles of his bicep. “Too much weirdness today.” A pause. “Brain wouldn’t shut off.”

And that’s the sort of moment of honesty that they do now. Sara sighs in return. “Ain’t that the truth,” she mutters, then edges her own seat a little closer, stretching out an arm along the table toward where his arm is propped. “Let me.”

Leonard only pauses a moment before pulling his own hand away and edging a little closer himself. Sara can hear his nearly inaudible exhalation as she gently starts kneading the muscles right above his elbow, bringing her other hand up to cup his elbow where it rests. This puts them rather more in each other’s space than usual, but it’s not the first time. He knows she can help him here. She’s done it before.

She wonders again why he hadn’t made a move since before the Oculus. The attraction’s there; it’s never gone away. She can feel it in the way he’s holding himself, the way he’s breathing. And after what the other Sara had said...

Abruptly, she moves her left hand away from his elbow and toward the drink that’s still sitting there, letting her right hand continue to work. A long drink—it’s the good scotch; Rob Ray must have given Rip a lot of booze—and it’s a good quarter of the way gone. Leonard lifts an eyebrow, and Sara promptly extends the glass to him. He brings his own left arm up and around to take it, and she tries not to watch the muscles in his throat work as he takes his own long drink.

He passes it back to her rather than try to reach over to the counter, and Sara takes another, quicker drink before setting it down again. Just in time, because Leonard’s apparently decided it’s time to talk.

“So,” he drawls, transferring his gaze back. “She tell you how I died?” He pauses as Sara stares at him. “Well. Other me. That Earth’s me.”

She’d figured he’d known, considering... “Mick...the other Mick...didn’t tell you?”

“Nope.” Leonard tilts his head, watching her. “Actually, he didn’t even tell me I was dead there. Wasn’t hard to figure out, though.”

“No.” Sara’s counterpart, emerging from that Waverider with that Earth’s Mick as Sara had left her Waverider with Leonard, had stopped dead in her tracks, staring at the crook like she’d seen a ghost. So had that Mick.

She’s quiet for a few more moments and Leonard doesn’t interrupt that quiet. He gets it. He always has. Finally, though, Sara sighs, shaking her head, and meets his eyes.

“You...he...died at the Oculus,” she says, aware that her hand has tightened around his arm. “In that Mick’s place.”

A moment of quiet. Then: “Ouch.”

“Yeah.” Sara looks down at the prosthesis even as Leonard does the same. “The regeneration tech on that Waverider hadn’t been damaged there. After...after Chronos...Gideon was able to reconstruct your arm, and...”

“...and when I… he… got to the Oculus, he couldn’t lock it in place, disconnect, and run.”

“No.”

After a moment, an odd noise emerges from him, a huff of mingled amusement and something else. “Silver linings, huh?” Leonard mutters, looking downward, running his fingers over the site where the prosthesis is locked to the area just under his elbow joint.

Sara knows he’s been a little bitter about the loss of his arm. It would be, she thinks, hard not to be, even though the complicated relationship he has with Mick has settled somewhat. On one level, he considers it only his deserved penance for his role in what Mick endured as Chronos. On another level, he hadn’t had much of a choice at the time...and so much of his identity had been tied up in his role as a master thief. Better than Lewis. Better than anyone.

Sara gets that. Gets it on a level that maybe the others, including Mick, never will. Leonard’s said it himself: he’s the crook, she’s the assassin. Except now she’s the captain, and she’s still getting used to that, too.

She moves her hand downward, to rest over his, tracing the line between surprisingly soft skin and uncannily skin-like plastic, listening to another quick intake of breath. The prosthesis is really an astounding bit of engineering, and it uses his own nerves and muscle movements to work. In a way, Leonard can even “feel” with it, and he’s been regaining dexterity in wrist and fingers as time goes on.

It’s not the same. It will never be the same.

But without it, he wouldn’t be here.

Sara glances up again, nearly startled into an intake of breath of her own as she realizes just how close they are, and how intently Leonard’s own blue eyes are studying her own.

“Can I ask you a question?” she asks, before she can think better of it.

His lips twitch a little. “Shoot.”

Spit it out, Sara. “Why didn’t you ever pick up the whole...’me and you’ thing again? I know you’re a hell of a thief.”

Leonard stills, eyes still boring into hers, and Sara immediately figures she’s made a mistake. She glances away, although she doesn’t pull away—Leonard’s already sensitive enough to his arm and the reactions of others for her to do that.

“That other Sara,” she adds quickly in explanation. “She has a lot of regrets. It’s been longer for them than it’s been for us, and I’m pretty sure the other you is only one of those regrets, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t react...kind of badly...to seeing you. She asked...well. She wondered. When she was getting me the info from their Gideon’s files that we needed.”

“You and Snart. Your Snart. Are you...together?”

“We’re friends.”

“Friends.” The other woman laughs, a noise that holds so much that Sara doesn’t even try to parse it out. “Friends are...good. If that’s what you want.” She pauses. “Is it?”

Leonard’s voice jolts Sara out of the memory.

“I guess...there never seemed to be time,” he says as she looks back up at him. “The right time.” A snort. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

Sara thinks about Laurel. About Savage. About Rex Tyler and the Justice Society. “Not in particular.”

Leonard continues, though, quietly. “And, perhaps it...occurred to me...just how badly I’d fucked up,” he says, glancing away. “After the team was captured.” His eyes move back to hers. “I regret that.”

The quiet stretches, and Sara allows herself a moment of relief that the rest of the team is sleeping as she considers how to play this. “You were a jerk,” she says finally. “But...you’ve made up for it.”

That gets a noise of somewhat more sincere amusement. “How? Showing up in Star City and nearly getting arrested by your dad? Turning Savage into a psycho-sicle before you shattered him? Nearly instigating a battle with the Justice Society of America?”

Sara can’t help a smile in return. But he doesn’t seem to be quite getting what she’s trying to say, and somehow, it’s become very important to her. More important than she’d ever realized before hearing her other-Earth doppelganger tell her what’d happened to him in the other world.

“I can’t imagine being the captain of this batch of weirdoes without you,” she tells him abruptly. “I don’t want to think about you not having my back. And I don’t want to lose that. But...”

Her voice trails off. Leonard tilts his head, but Sara’s suddenly at a loss. There’s too much here. Too much to lose. Too much to gain. She closes her eyes, dragging in a breath, remembering the older Sara and the look on her face. A few too many losses, she’d guess. Who were they? And will those be coming for her? Will...

“Sara.”

Leonard sounds even closer. Sara opens her eyes, blinking as she realizes just how close he is, registering the touch as his left hand comes up under her jaw and...

Oh. OK. Yes, he’s a hell of a thief.

And a hell of a kisser.

She closes her eyes again nearly immediately, leaning into the kiss as his fingers curl under her jaw and things start to heat up. The kiss is gentle, very gentle, at first, his lips softer than expected on hers, but as Sara responds, she can feel the subtle hesitation fading away, taken over by passion as they mutually deepen the kiss.

The fingers of Sara’s free hand come up and wrap around the collar of Leonard’s shirt as his teeth scrape against her bottom lip and she moans, then mock-glares at him as he chuckles. Then they’re right back to it, making up for wasted time, tasting and exploring and fairly well forgetting that they’re actually right out in the open there in the galley.

Without much clear thought, then, Sara shifts right off her own chair and into Leonard’s lap, straddling him and wrapping both arms around his shoulders to hold him close. Leonard moves his right hand-prosthesis to her hip almost involuntarily and Sara shudders as the fingertips brush the stripe of skin between her yoga pants and shirt.

He freezes, then pulls away from the continued kiss with a huff of breath. It takes Sara a moment to realize why, but when she does, she reaches down to put a hand over his, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Don’t you dare.”

“It’s not...”

“It’s just fine. It wasn’t a bad thing, Len. And even if it did bother me—which it doesn’t—if it weren’t for that, you’d be...you wouldn’t be here.” She shifts a little more, grinning as it draws a groan from his own lips. “Now, stop overthinking it and kiss me some more.”

And he does.

On Earth-1

“You think they pulled their heads outta their asses yet?”

Sara glances up from her seat, pulling her gaze away from the glass of scotch in her hand and eyeing Mick for a moment where he’s paused in the doorway.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says idly, transferring her gaze back to the glass and then taking a drink.

He doesn’t buy it. Of course he doesn’t. Sara hears an amused snort, but doesn’t look up again as Mick crosses the office, pours his own drink and moves back to plop into the chair on the other side of the desk. (The springs creak. One of these days, she thinks, he’s going to break it.)

“That Sara was giving that Snart quite the side-eye as they left, and not in a bad way,” he informs her, then pauses. “You tell her? How he died? Here?”

This Sara really doesn’t want to have this conversation. Not now. Probably not ever. But she owes it to Mick to give him someone to talk to about it. God knows she hasn’t been good at that in the past.

“I did. While I was copying the files their Gideon needed.” She had, in part, wanted to distract that Sara from asking who else was no longer on the ship. She takes another drink. “It wasn’t all that long ago. For them.”

“Mmph.” Mick’s quiet a long moment. Then he sighs, a melancholy tone that hurts Sara’s heart. But he doesn’t speak again and they drink a while in silence.

Finally, though, Sara decides she needs to bring it up. “You realize why that one didn’t?” She clarifies as he glances up at her. “Why that Snart didn’t die?”

Quiet. Then, quietly, “yeah.”

Someday, Sara thinks, it might help him to know that the actions he still regrets as Chronos actually led to Leonard living, at least on one Earth out there.

Today is probably not that day.

Still. Someday. And maybe it will help the Mick on that Earth mend fences, as well.

“Life,” she tells Mick with a sigh, lifting her glass in a toast, “is weird.”

That gets a grunt of amusement. He lifts his glass back to her.

“Ain't that the truth.”

[weirdochick56]

Next To Me- Dean Winchester Song Imagine

Warnings: Explicit language. A bit of angst and fluff.

Disclaimers: I don’t own Supernatural or any of the characters/spn plots mentioned. I also don’t own the rights to the song “Next To Me.” Imagine Dragons and their record label does. 

Word count: 2,476 words

A/n: I was listening to the song “Next To Me” by Imagine Dragons and was suddenly struck by inspiration. It’s so beautiful too! I didn’t do it any justice, and for that, I’m deeply sorry. 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️😑😑

***

Something about the way that you walked into my living room

Casually and confident lookin' at the mess I am

You weren’t much of a softy. As a hunter, feelings and getting close to people was the first unspoken rule of the book. It was impossible to do so. And you hadn’t really minded either way, completely immersed in the way of life that you hoped would eventually carry you to an honorable death. You were a third-generation hunter, and there was no way out.

That was what thought until you met Dean Winchester, at least. The Winchesters were legends amongst the hunter community and the few you’d collaborated with gossiped more than you saw fit, allowing you to be aware of all the messes and clean-up-by-default the brothers and their alliances had to complete.

A scoff or a straightforward roll of eyes was your only response at the mere mention of their name. To you, they were the opposite of what they were to everyone else. They were reckless, irresponsible, and way too cocky.

So it came as no surprise that you were completely against the idea of working with them when your mother had casually mentioned it.

“Y/n,” she sighs, shaking her head. “They’re here to help us with the case.”

You huff. “Mom, we don’t need help. I’m perfectly fine going on my own. We don’t need those two assclowns.” you spit loudly, infuriated she’d even consider the idea of pairing you with someone else as it’d always only been you two.

“Y/n-” she looks at you with the familiar expression you knew to be a warning sign before a harsh scolding.

“Not sure you should be talking about someone you don’t know like that sweetheart.” a voice gruff and teasing interrupted your mom.

You whirl around to face him and your breath hitches in your throat, the words that were about to escape your lips in a hurling insult suddenly dying in your throat.

The man was gorgeous. Tall, broad-shouldered, and lean. His hair was dirty-blonde and messy but fit him surprisingly well. What really caught your attention though, was his eyes. Big, bright and oh-so-green. They looked to have gone through some shit. Real shitty shit. Or maybe that was just you.

You realize you’re gawking at the now grinning man and clear your throat, flushed. Squaring your shoulders in an attempt to redeem your composure, you turn on your old self again. “I don’t think I need to know you to notice you’re a dick, sweetheart,” you growl.

But still you, still you want me

Stress lines and cigarettes, politics and deficits

Late bills and overages, screamin' and hollerin'

You had ended up having to work together, much to your disappointment. Although, it hadn’t been all that bad. A quick salt and burn job. One that was spent doing a ton of research on, urging you and the youngest Winchester, Sam, a bit closer.

Eventually, you became one of their “allies” coming along on almost every hunt. You and Sam became best friends. Dean however...he was a completely different story. The man and you did not get along. At all.

You often yelled at one another, driving Sam absolutely nuts. The truth was, it was just your normalized reaction to the things Dean was stirring up within you. You couldn’t exactly explain it because it was a new feeling, but you often found yourself daydreaming about him, thinking about whether or not Dean would like a certain thing you were wearing or a new song you’d listen to.

You absolutely would never admit it out loud, but the truth was, Dean Winchester drove you crazy.

*

Dean knew, the moment you’d turned around and snapped at him the way you did -confident in your own skin, knowing of what you wanted- that you were way out of his league. He was attracted to you. That was for sure. You were everything he looked for in a woman. Strong, independent, badass, and your beauty was just an added bonus.

You were the complete opposite of him. You were self-loving, kind (though it was hard for others to see because you hid it so well, he was particularly observant) brave. Even if he didn’t show it, he felt like complete shit compared to you. To him, you had it all figured out. From the way you stood, to the way you got down to business on a hunt.

“Dean.” you stop him abruptly on your way to the ugly motel room Sam was already in, one day after a particular hunt. He glances down at you, startled. “What?”

You sigh. “Are we ever going to acknowledge the insane sexual tension between us?” you inquire bluntly. Dean leans back, alarmed. But when he finally gets his scrambling brain to make sense of what you’d just said, he knew that was it. There was nowhere else to hide, no words were left to cower behind.

So he gulped thickly, nodding slowly and dipping his head down to meet your own. He completely ignored the fact that you were both dirty, grimy with blood and dirt. And he kissed you, letting his desire take over. It seemed as though he couldn’t control his movements or thoughts right now as much as he couldn’t control his small reactions to you before.  

When you didn’t make a move to stop him, but instead encouraged what was happening, he did everything in his power not to take you right then and there. Outside a small murky motel hallway.

Oh, I always let you down

You're shattered on the ground

But still I find you there

Next to me

And oh, stupid things I do

I'm far from good, it's true

But still I find you

Next to me (next to me)

Dean was a broken man. You knew that the moment you’d met him. It was in his eyes. They told you everything you’d ever need to know about Dean Winchester. He was a broken, sad man.

But that was just one of the things you loved most about him. Being broken and all that self-hatred gave him the best ability to care and love for others that you’d ever seen. That, however, didn’t mean the idea him hating himself was welcomed. Not at all. Because Dean Winchester was also one of the most beautiful souls you’d ever had the pleasure to encounter and you cokdlnt figure out why he’d hate someone as beautiful as himself.

“Dean, don’t walk away from me, you dick!” You yell, running after him. You’d been officially dating for a few months at this point point, and the fights had started. This time, Dean refuses to talk to you about something he’d said.

Dean suddenly whirls around, his eyes tearful. You gulp at the view, your heartbreaking. “What, Y/n? What do you want from me?” His voice cracked with emotion halfway through his sentence and you tried not to show your own disappointment at the fact that-

“Why would you say that Dean?” You cautiously step closer, whispering.

Dean screws his eyes shut, a pained expression on his face. You gently touch his arm and he immediately jumps back, his eyes flying open.

You don’t even fight the hurt expression on your face at his seemingly instinctive reaction to your touch. He licks his lips, looking straight into your eyes. “We’re done.” His eyes weren’t cold or detached, they looked hurt and his voice sounded forced.

You weren’t buying it.

But it still stung like a bitch. So you purse your lips and nod, running away from him. He tells out your name but you ignore him, practically flying out of the bunker.

*

Dean had gone off to a bar to get some air and to try to relax about you being somewhere alone at night. He shudders. The more he thinks about it, the more guilty he feels. He didn’t want to break with you. Not at all. You were the only thing tethering him to reality. Keeping him sane.

The fucked up shit he and his brother had been through, the people they’d lost...it wasn’t the reality he wanted for you. You had so much more potential. To live an apple pie life with someone who could lo- wrong word. No one could ever love you as much as he.

No. Impossible. Someone who could give you what he couldn’t. A proper life. With kids and a loving husband. Dean winced at the thought, downing his beer. He slaps a twenty on the counter and stalks away, headed home.

*

You hear the door of yours and Dean’s shared bedroom bang open loudly and you sit up in the bed, startled. Dean is peering at what you assume was your black figure, before flicking the lights on.

When he sees your cute tired face, he clearly can’t hide his shock. “Y/n?” He breathes, then relief floods his face.

You squint at him, dazed. “Dean?” Your voice is groggy and once Dean hears it, he seems to have slipped back into “reality”. The one he’d made up at least.

“Why are you here?” His voice is cold but not detached as he approaches your bed, stumbling a bit. He didn’t want to say that.

“A-are you drunk?” You opt to say instead, watching him sit in the edge of your bed and struggle to take his boots off.

“Yeah,” he grunts, getting one loose. “Thought I’d try to forget about the fact that I’d never get to see the girl I love ever again.” He isn’t looking at you when he says this, which would’ve really pissed you off, if not for the fact that you were frozen still into silence. You go over all your moments with Dean. The fun ones, the not-so-fun ones, the passionate ones, the heartfelt ones. They were what made up your relationship.

You stay there, still. Realizing, Dean and you had never said the L word to eachother. Yet here he was, throwing it around like it meant nothing.

Dean glances at you with a small, drunken smile as he slips off his clothes, remaining in his boxers. “What?” He frowns, concerned to see you paralyzed in shock.

You slowly turn to look at him. “Y...” the hoarse words die in your throat and you to clear it in order to continue. “Y-you love me?” You stammered out.

Dean looks taken aback at how fretful you looked to even mutter the words. His eyes soften and he seems sober all of a sudden. He plops back down on the bed, taking your face into his big warm hand and looking you directly into the eyes. “I love everything about you Y/f/n Y/l/n. From the way you smile.” He smiles softly, caressing your lips gently with his thumb. You lean in closer to his touch out of pure instinct. He grins. “To the way, you can’t help but shiver when I touch you.” You blush. “I even love when you get pissed at me.” He smirks, leaning into your ear. “Sometimes I do it on purpose because you look super hot when you’re angry.” He confesses, letting out an airy laugh and you can’t help but shiver as his hot breath fans the shell of your ear.

“Dean.” You groan. He separates from you, keeping his hands on your face. Staring at you with a bitter smile, he laughs humorlessly.

“I can’t love you, though, Y/n.” He shakes his head and you immediately frown, finally speaking. “Why?”

Dean’s sighs dejectedly, letting out another pained laugh. “Because it’s gonna get you killed.”

There's something about the way that you always see the pretty view

Overlook the blooded mess, always lookin' effortless

And still you, still you want me

I got no innocence, faith ain't no privilege

I am a deck of cards, vice or a game of hearts

And still you, still you want me

You can’t help but let out a small huff at his dumb notion. “Why would you ever say that?”

Dean swallows audibly then looks back up at you. “I’m poison. I kill everyone I come in contact with. And that includes you.” You can see his lips quiver slightly, his face contorting in one of suppression.

And then the entire wall he’d built around his heart completely broke down and it completely crushed you when a small tear trailed down his face. Dean made no move to wipe it off, so you knew he was tired of holding it all in. Then a lot of tears came. And small repressed sobs. And finally full on bawling. Your heart broke at the sight of him so broken.

So you do the only thing you could think of doing at the moment and wrap your arms around him, urging him to lay his head on your chest. He obliged, and your old T-shirt immediately gets soaked with his tears.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders tighter, running your fingers soothingly through his hair. “Sh, sh, sh. It’ll be okay Dean.” You whisper tenderly, letting him cry into your chest until he finally went silent.

It seemed he was too tired to even get off, so you left him there, letting sleep take over both of you.

*

The next morning, you wake up to Dean, staring at you with a small smile. As soon as he sees you’re awake, he caresses your cheek, “how could I have gotten so lucky?”

You suppress a smile, pecking his lips. “Shouldn’t I be saying the same?” Your voice is groggy with sleep and Dean shakes his head, his lip curling downward. “It might be hard to admit sweetheart, but I don’t deserve you.” He looks downcast but sincere.

You scowl. “You listen here Winchester and you listen carefully.” You grip his chin, making him look at you. His green eyes are wide and beautifully broken. Just like him.

“There is nothing you could ever do that would ever make me hate you. Nothing could ever make me want to leave you. No matter how bad. Not even my own death. I am absolutely in love with you, Dean.” You whisper the last part, hesitant to say it out loud.

Dean’s eyes widen. “W-what?”

You shift closer to him, grinning. “I.” Peck on the cheek. “Love.” Peck on the other cheek. “You.” Peck on the lips.

You go to pull away, but Dean doesn’t allow you to do so, gripping your neck and yelling you into a loving kiss. It was the opposite of your first kiss. This one was loving, careless of one's selfish needs. You felt loved by him more than ever and you hoped he felt it too.

Your lips moved in sync with eachother, and you were completely immersed in Dean and his soft lips.

When you finally broke away, panting slightly, you placed your forehead on his, both grinning widely. It was comfortably silent for a few seconds until you finally spoke up.

“Dean?”

“Hm?”

“If you ever try to break up with me without meaning it, I’ll break your arm.”

***

Another shitty one, I know. But I needed to put something out there whilst the new series I’m writing is being finished up. Bear with me, please. It’s coming along, I promise.

A special thanks to:

@jessikared97 97 and @lilypalmer1987 my forever tags!!!

Also, tell me if you want to be tagged in any shape or form. And leave replies and send in requests. They make my day!!! Seriously.

[davidmann95]

I read your post about why Batman is great and I love how thoughtful that is. Can you do one for Superman? Thanks ^_^

Unsurprisingly, I’ve touched on a lot of the basic aspects of it before, so for a couple parts of this I’ll keep it restrained (speaking entirely relatively), but given I think about Superman more than most people think about their best friends, I feel qualified to state that yes: Superman is great. As I said with Batman, the reasons why on a mass cultural basis are much broader than ‘he’s a really well-written character’ - hell, too often that isn’t even the case, even if plenty *have* stepped up over the years - so I’ll start with the lizard hindbrain stuff and work my way down to the finer details.

Superman has iconic power by default

What it really comes down to, at least in terms of keeping him afloat in the public eye when actual public opinion on him has been shot completely to hell over the last couple decades, is that Superman is a Big Deal. He’s the founder of his own genre: literally every surface-level aspect of his mythology is shorthand for the concept he created as well as for plenty beyond superheroes, from the suit (trunks included) to Lois Lane to Lex Luthor to Clark Kent to flying to Kryptonite to Bizarro and Brainiac to super-pets and x-ray vision. A red cape fluttering in the breeze is itself an evocative image entirely sans context, because people know that means him, by which it really means all superheroes. That means he takes the hits of getting all the complaints other characters duck even as others write thinkpieces on his place in culture and how he represents everything from America to Jesus to conservative values to the immigrant experience, all from people who may well have never picked up a comic or watched a cartoon of his in their lives. Even when most people don’t know much about him as a character, he as a symbolic figure is too massive to not grapple with one way or another, even via shorthand such as ‘he’s dumb’ or ‘he stands for us at our best’; while many of his recent woes can be traced back to people telling stories solely about or defined by that iconography, it still has power. Kids on the other side of the world from wherever you’re sitting right now know he can leap a tall building in a single bound. There’s maybe two or three other fictional characters in the world with that level of exposure and impact, and the unconscious emotional connection that comes baked right into it.

Superman is a protector

When kids talk about loving him because he can do anything, and adults talk about how he brings back those memories of joy and comfort, I think this is what it really comes down to a lot of the time. Superman’s the one who looks out for us, the guy who cares about you. Yeah, there’s gotta be the odd story about how NOT EVEN SUPERMAN CAN SAVE EVERYONE! to keep him honest, but by and large, yes he can. He wears a fun flashy uniform and he can wrap you up in his cape and fly you away from whatever bad’s happening, and even if something can catch up, no bullet or bomb in the world is going to get through him to you, or even hurt him enough to at least be scary. Nothing’s so hard or so big or so scary he can’t help, not really; he naps on clouds and swims in the sun. He’s polite, and never aggressive towards the innocent (not even that often towards the guilty), and he doesn’t talk down to people even though he’s stronger and knows better. He’s as confident as a cool big brother, as supportive and sturdy as a good dad, as vaguely ethereal and perfectly impossible as Santa Claus. It’s not an act, it’s not impersonal - he wants you to be okay, he cares about you and he’ll do whatever he can to make sure you’ll be alright. When that’s done just right? That kind of unreserved, unconditional, powerful demonstration of kindness making a difference, even from a cartoon alien, can knock a lot of typically steely emotional walls down like balsa wood, especially when that can save the day just as much as quick wits or a fist, the way anyone here could too in the right circumstances when they try their best.

Superman is a romantic figure

Something overlooked or deliberately sidelined by many is that a huge, huge part of Superman’s appeal in lots of circles is that he can be a romantic ideal rather than (or as well as) a protective one. He’s a sweet, funny, confident, smart guy who’s built like Adonis and doesn’t think he’s better than everybody else even though he’s literally the best. He holds down a socially valuable job he’s successful and happy at, he’s gentle and considerate, and he’s entirely comfortable being second in his household to a commanding career woman who he’s instinctively protective of, but also willing to back off of when she feels smothered because he acknowledges her independence. He can fly her to the moon, he never lets her forget how happy he is that when he was left lost and alone on the other side of the universe he fell to the one place he could find her, and he wears tights. The comics may forget that, but Lois & Clark knew it. Smallville sure as hell knew it. So have the last couple movies, and Supergirl. Even Christopher Reeve, America’s Dad, got it on with Margot Kidder in that weird shiny Fortress hammock. You wanna talk about the aspects of Superman that go for…ahem…primal instincts, that he’s the member of the Justice League historically most likely to go shirtless* is worth bringing up. 

* Aside from maybe Batman, who’s usually beat to hell and too miserable to leverage any of that playboy charm, and Aquaman, who’s Aquaman.

Superman is an easy power fantasy

Obviously, superheroes are often power fantasies in general; they do stuff we can’t do but wish we could. And Superman’s near the top of that list not just because he’s iconic, and not even because of the scope of his power - Green Lantern and Thor are comparable in terms of raw ability, GL even has an honest-to-goodness wishing ring, but they don’t measure up in that regard. What is is, I think, is that Superman’s powers are rooted in physicality, and therefore easy to imagine yourself doing. Everything most people can do, he does best, from lifting to running to looking to hearing to punching. Even his non-physical powers have a connection to actual physical acts: to see through objects he focuses as if peering through a fog, he doesn’t shoot power blasts from his fists to light things on fire but instead burns them with a furious glare, he doesn’t dispassionately levitate through the air as a standard but takes off and holds his arms forward as if in a mighty never-ending leap. Batman may be ‘real’, but if you imagined suddenly being him, you wouldn’t be Batman, you’d be a rich dude with a weaponized theme park in his basement, because you have no training and no tangible point of reference for thinking of how anything works beyond “punch and throw things”. But it’s easy to imagine being Superman in a visceral, physical sense - just imagine everything you did worked optimally, even the way it only could in a dream.

Superman is fun

All of the above makes him grand and likable, but that’s not the same as being able to support decades of monthly adventure stories. The basis of that is that he lives in a universe-sized, Earth-shaped toybox. He doesn’t just have superpowers and a nifty suit, he’s got a cave at the North Pole right near Santa with a time machine, statues of all his friends, a space zoo, a gun that turns people into ghosts, and a bottle city full of real people, plus robots to keep it all tidy, and only he can get in because the key was forged in the heart of a star. His cousin, kid, dog, and a few of his best friends wear capes too, and his ‘brother’ with reverse-superpowers lives on a cube planet where it’s perpetually opposite day. His friends and wife often go on their own adventures and get temporary superpowers just by being in his vicinity, he dated a mermaid in college, his after-school club was in the future and he commutes to the moon for work, and his deadliest enemies include a crazed mad scientist, an evil robot with a death-heart, a mischievous imp in a derby hat, and brilliant alien computer literally named Brainiac. Superman lives in a sci-fi fantasy dreamland of childish archetypes that can exist on any scale from the microscopic to the galactic to the other-dimensional, and as a result of that he can go on any adventure imaginable, to any time and place, and as a super-man who doesn’t often have to worry for his own safety, he can survive and appreciate and care for it all.

Superman mythologizes the mundane

And it’s where the fun and the big, mythic aura Superman carries meet that the magic happens that makes him as versatile and effective a character as there is in fiction: everything he does is rooted in something incredibly normal and human. His wild super-suit of circus royalty is made to reconnect with his heritage the only way he has, and to try and make himself colorful and unthreatening to a world he needs to accept him. When he travels through time, it’s never just to save reality, it’s to go see family and friends. He walks his dog around the rings of Saturn, he looks at his city in a bottle and wonders if he’ll ever be able to get around to taking care of that, he walks on the bottom of the ocean to think things through privately, and spends an entire day saving the world to get away from a conversation he doesn’t want to have. Every mad, cosmic aspect of his world is something totally normal blown up to be as big as it feels, and even when he does interact with the truly ‘mundane’, his presence alone elevates it to myth in a way no other superhero can. That’s the true source of his ability to adapt, rarely tapped but always potent: he can do anything, because he’s us.

Superman’s an actual good, interesting character

I place this at the bottom because it’s the aspect that’s most rarely captured, especially in the public eye (though the handful of times it has been are why he’s my favorite). But when he’s handled properly, then even divorced from everything else, Superman is fascinating as a *person*. Raised knowing there’s something different about him even as his weird alienness lets him understand people and the world around them in ways no others can, he learned one day he was born of the most mind-shattering act of cosmic horror imaginable, with a place greater than Earth in every way destroyed by coincidence, a signpost by any measure that the universe is a chaotic, meaningless, cruel place that destroys the innocent with indifference…and he became a good man who treasures life over anything. He has power that lets him do literally anything he pleases, and he spends half his life among us at a desk job because he thinks we’re just swell and he wants to keep being part of it all. Even though he can never entirely, not really, divvying his life up into discrete, manageable chunks that let him interact with the world on his own terms and try to see through what he sees as his responsibility, until a woman sees through the deception and self-deception and gets the real him to tentatively come out. 

He has fun little hobbies, and unusual friendships, and a complex rivalry with the one man in the world who could’ve been his equal. He’s seen the best and worst of the world, and he accepts it all, but he still radiates a decency and innocence that can be mistaken for naivete by those who don’t know him. He’s clever but easy to catch off-guard in the right circumstances, always struggling to be the god people expect him to be rather than the inadequate fake his humility can make him look at himself as, he likes football and pretzels and pulp novels and Metallica, he gets a kick out of writing because it’s one of the few things he can do on an even playing field, he’s not sure how best to raise his kid, he worries that that one alien dictator is going to pop by again soon and he might not be ready to deal with it, he has to coordinate dates with his wife precisely because they both have such busy schedules, he counts dust particles in the air when he gets bored, and he believes in everybody. There’s so much going on with this guy, this identity-case, this brute, this pacifist, this establishment-man, this rebel and idealist and weirdo and a dozen other conflicting things. He’s been and done just about everything with charm and style over the decades, and it works, because it all adds up into one nice guy’s unusual, well-rounded life. And because it’s always anchored by an understanding: for all that he’s a unique freak of creation, he knows that in all the madness and uncertainty and horror, the one thing we have to rely on is each other. So he’ll put on his suit and throw himself out there against the only things in the universe that could kill him when he could be doing anything else, because he’s found a home with us little people when he lost his, and he knows we’re worth the fight; everyone is, aliens just like him in their own ways, waiting to be saved the way they saved him when he landed in a field. That’s why Superman’s great.

[bravonovel]

Playing with A Billionaire read novel online on Bravonovel

Playing with A Billionaire https://www.bravonovel.com/playing-with-a-billionaire-7874

Playing with A Billionaire novel is a Romance story about Emma Cole and Ethan Hollen.

When plain simple nerdy Emma Cole goes to Hollen Tower for an interview she quickly realizes she is out of her league. The women of Hollen Tower are gorgeous, and their shoes cost more than her entire wardrobe. But an accident, and a talent for coffee, put Emma in the position to meet the man of her dreams. There's just one problem, he's engaged. And when Emma falls for CEO Ethan Hollen she finds herself in the middle of a dangerous plot she never would have imagined. Ethan Hollen wasn't born with a silver spoon in his mouth but he climbed the ladder to riches very quickly. At just twenty four, he is one of the youngest and most powerful CEOs. With a huge mansion, several cars, successful business, and beautiful fiancée, he has it all. But when internal enemies threaten everything he's built, he must quickly act to save his company and the woman he loves.

You can read Playing with A Billionaire novel on Bravonovel Web or App.

Playing with A Billionaire novel Chapter 1

Prologue

Emma Cole, a nerd in high school and untouched all throughout her life at a community college, was abandoned by her birth parents and grew up in foster care homes all around New York. Whenever her name was mentioned, the people who knew her laughed and called her foul names, since she looked like the female version of Steve Urkel and was easy to pick on and belittle. She had no sense of style. All she wore were big dresses that hid her tiny figure underneath and glasses which didn't do her eyes any justice. She owned one bag-- a beat-up leather she received as a gift from a spelling bee contest her freshman year in high school.

Though she went to school, she had no friends, no family, and no one to teach her about becoming a lady. Emma had done everything by herself since she was one year old-- the age she was dumped by her parents into the foster system.

At age twenty three, she lived in a very small apartment by herself. She wasn't able to land a high-paying job to afford a good house, as of yet. Every time she applied to a vacant position she may have seen in a newspaper in the cafe, they would turn her down when she went to the interviews and the interviewers took one look at her. Appearance was more than her qualifications if she wanted to land a job as a receptionist or personal assistant at one of the big firms in New York City.

Emma decided to stop hoping for a better job and stuck with being a waitress at Carl's Cafe.

Her hell on earth.

Carl was the manager and owner of the cafe. A grown man, forty-five years old, who had experienced all the things he had chosen to chase in his pathetic life. He was a terrible boss and treated his employees as his personal slaves with low wages. One of his nasty habits was hitting on his female employees while on the job, but he never hit on Emma. Although she was a female, she just wasn't his type and was too unattractive to even be bothered with.

____________

It was Wednesday morning.

Emma had only just clocked-in. She placed her bag in her designated locker and began to take the orders of the customers, who were already in abundance for their morning coffee or pancakes and eggs or any breakfast meals of their choice from the menus provided.

She was about to deliver the orders to the kitchen when a pair of hands grabbed her by the arm.

"You have to work a double today. Tisha is sick. I need you to fill in." And he was gone right after his command.

Emma continued to the kitchen to drop off the customers' orders. Since Tisha was sick, she would have to take her place at the cash register and coffee machines. She was about to have another terrible day in hell but, obeying Carl's command, she worked the double shift without complaint.

On Thursday, the same thing happened-- working a double without getting anything extra for filling in. And the same thing happened on Friday.

~~

Emma was drained, but it was finally Saturday, and it was her day off. She decided to visit a library and take several books to the park for a read. It was the beginning of summer, and she needed the fresh air.

She had just stepped out of her narrow bathroom when her cheap phone, which still had raised keys and couldn't connect to WiFi, rang.

"Emma, I need you to come in right now. Be here in less than twenty minutes!"

Before she could object he had hung up. She had really hoped for some free time to herself, and apart from that, she was exhausted, but she had to comply. How would she afford her crap apartment if she was jobless?

She took her precious time getting ready and arrived an hour later than Carl demanded she be there. He was furious with her and yelled at her as soon as she clocked in.

"I told your malnourished ass to be here in less than twenty minutes!"

Indeed Emma Cole appeared very skinny due to all the over-sized clothes she wore. Without even giving him a glance, she went to the customers to take their orders.

When she was making coffee for an angry, beer belly guy at the front of the line, who was yelling at her and calling her names, she lost her temper and threw the entire cup of coffee in his face. He had called her an incapable, handicapped, low-budget paying maid, who wouldn't even get extra if she shook it at a strip club because she looked like the hobbit in Lord of the Rings.

She had never been so humiliated. Yes, she had it rough in high school but it had gotten a little better at college because everyone there seemed much more mature than the bullies at high school. Now, this grown man was yelling at her because his coffee was ten minutes late. It wasn't even her fault. She was supposed to be off today. Had he kept his mouth shut, she wouldn't have splashed the coffee all over his chubby, beard-covered face.

Carl appeared just as the man was about to throw a table back at Emma. "Hey hey hey, what's going on here?"

"That incompetent waitress of yours just threw a damn cup of hot coffee in my face, man!"

"Sir, please calm down and put the table down. I'll handle this," Carl instructed. "Emma! You're fired!"

"What, you don't even want to hear what I have to say? He embarrassed me and..."

Carl cut her off, "Get your things and get out. I can't have you throwing coffee in people's faces and still have you working here. GET OUT, EMMA!!"

Emma threw her apron to the ground, took her bag out of the locker and walked out. "I hated it here anyway," she said as she passed Carl and the impatient customers on the way out.

Prologue ends here.

Emma's POV

I buried my head on my stale pillows when I got home, hitting them with my hands from my anger as the tears came.

I've been fired, what am I going to do now?

I somehow managed to gather myself and my emotions. It was still early.

"There's still time to go to the library and then the park," I said to myself as I got off the bed.

I changed into something skimpier, still concealing my entire figure underneath. I was insecure about my body and ashamed of the scars it possessed.

I started on my heel and headed to the library then the park. I was sitting on the bench reading Counting Raindrops Through A Stained Glass Window, when an old lady with platinum blonde hair sat down beside me.

"Hello dear," she greeted, kindly.

For an old woman by herself in the park, she wore very expensive jewelry. I could tell just by looking at it.

"Hello ma'am," I greeted back with a small smile. I continued with my book as she opened a newspaper.

Twenty minutes into reading, two men in black tuxedos approached our bench. They resembled characters in Men In Black-- not a smile on their faces as they took long strides toward us.

I panicked. I was easily frightened.

The elder woman stood up and extended her arms to them. They held onto her, supporting her to help her stand on her own two feet. They left without another word. Suddenly, I noticed she had forgotten her newspaper. I took it and ran in their direction.

"Excuse me, ma'am!" I called, getting a little closer, but was cutoff by one of the bodyguards.

"Can I help you miss?" he asked firmly, with a tone that made me regret running after them.

"I'm sorry, the... lady forgot ...her newspaper." I was out of breath. Damn, I needed to exercise more.

"Why don't you keep it and educate yourself? Maybe then you'll find out who 'the lady' is, so you can address her by her name next time."

His response was rude but encouraging. I walked back to the bench and watched as the black SUV drove away with her inside. I looked at the page she was reading to the left side of the article it stated: "Personal Assistant wanted at Hollen Tower. Terms and conditions apply."

And, of course, terms and conditions meant college education, knowledge about the job's responsibilities, punctual, fluent in English, impeccable character, previous work experience, related employment history, and more. I had applied for so many jobs like this before but gotten turned down once they looked at me-- like I wasn't human. I wasn't like them.

I wasn't like them, actually. I didn't own a house or a car or have expensive clothes and shoes, or have the ability to wine and dine at restaurants, but I was a human being too!

I was a plain and simple one. I lived in a cheap apartment, wore beat-up clothes that were stained and crumpled; I ate scraps left in the kitchen at Carl's Cafe after breakfast, lunch and dinner were served. After my rent was paid I usually had money for my essential needs, like feminine products and canned foods that didn't spoil in a hurry-- since I didn't own a refrigerator.

I was at rock bottom, but I'd accepted it and learned how to be satisfied with the little I had and could afford. I found comfort in reading books. I loved reading about the poor girls who found princes and billionaires who swept them off their feet, got married and lived happily ever after like Cinderella. I kept on wishing something like that would happen to me, but they were only books; they were fiction. In this modern world princes and billionaires didn't go for poor girls like me. They dated models and designers, and women with the looks, body, and beauty who could fit into their lifestyle. Who would want someone like me?

I got on my feet and left the park before it got too dark out. I was afraid of walking the streets at night.

I arrived at my apartment three hours later. I sat on a hard, uncomfortable chair as I read through the newspaper's articles one more time. Something at the back of my mind told me that I should give it one more shot, but something else just wanted me to give up.

"Look at your life, Emma, you got fired today. You're jobless, the rent would be due at the end of the month or else out on the street you go. You don't have anyone who could take you in and care about you. You have to try to get another job,"  said one side.

"Emma, just give up. You're not going to get a job at Hollen Tower. It's too grand for your taste. They'll do what they always do, take one look at you and turn their faces. Just give up, you'll be evicted, so what? You wouldn't be the first to get evicted and live on the streets. Why not join a gang?" said the other.

I was frustrated. I looked at my life and cried myself to sleep.

I knew when the clock struck seven the next morning I would be out of this shack and on my way to Hollen Tower. I needed to try just one more time.

This time I will make bigger efforts in my appearance to land the job. I will get the job, just watch.

......

Continue to read Chapter 2 of Playing with A Billionaire on Bravonovel Web https://www.bravonovel.com/playing-with-a-billionaire-7874/chapter-2--coffee-maid--131164 Read more exciting novels on Bravonovel App https://www.bravonovel.com/download-bravonovel-app

[studyingartsnow-blog]

JUSTICE LEAGUE (SPOILER) REVIEW

It's really hard for me to talk about this movie cuz I've been waiting for this since the first trailer came out. However I think I wasn't influenced by the hipe. This movie is really enjoyable. For me watching this movie was like watching the avengers for the 1st time. I wasn't that amazed by the CGI but the movie is still looking way better than the majority. This movie starts with Batman meeting a parademon while following a guy on the rooftops. Then he starts searching for the other members of the league. Aquaman and Cyborg refuse at first but you know what happens after so let's leave it. There's a big spoiler alert in this movie review so you've been warned. Before the spoiler let's take a look at the actors,  shall we ? So let's start with my personal favorit Gal Gadot. She was brilliant in this one. She went from the Fast and Furious frenchise to Wonder Woman. I didn't like her character in BvS but since WW she nails it. Ezra Miller was a big surprise for me because he's really enjoyable not as only the Flash but he's like sending out the messeges like "I was a good choice for this role thanks Zack!" and I can imagine he's like this in real life too. I mean like a person and personality and not like fast as the Flash but you get the idea. Ben Affleck is a good Batman he fits the character really well. Jason Momoa as Aquaman was a  great choice but he's character isn't shown enough I think. Ray Fisher as  Cyborg I think as an actor he did well but he didn't have enough time to show his acting skills. Let's take a look at the story again. So here comes the SPOILER. You've been warned. So they reincarnate Superman with a cube and he forgot who he was before, which was a good choice but after the first 3 minutes of his rebirth Louis comes and saves the day by just showing up and suddenly Superman remembers. Firstly, I think they should give Superman more time being evil and destroying a bit more stuff or I don't know. Secondly, I get it that he remembers Batman but then how the hell is that he doesn't remember Batman saving his mother? But that's rude from me to critisise this. However I think it was a really small mistake by th8e writers. As small as Ant Man next to Deadpool (Can't wait for DP2 to come out by the way). And then Louis and Clark have a nice time together while the league visits Chernobil (I guess). The action there is brilliant. After a while of fighting Superman comes and saves the day again. GOD this man is too powerful. Ok i get it that he's a Cryptonian but he could end the whole league within 10 minutes or less. As a character, I must say this is the best Superman so far in the DCEU he's too powerful but as a character this is how I've always imagined Superman, a charismatic, calm and wise guy who wants to help everyone. The villain is Steppenwolf who we needed to get the league fighting against something  so he's fine for the first movie. I really think they saved the best for later movies. And he mentions Darkseid once. And he wants to conquer and that's all about his character probably. The chemistry between our heroes works really well. As I said the movie is really enjoyable not like a marvel movie I mean there isn't that much jokes but the ones you hear are rememerbel. Thanks for reading this was my review of the JL. If you have other ideas tell me. I know this is a really beginner review but we all have to start somewhere thats why i named my account studying arts now. Have fun reading some other reviews of mine soon. Thanks for reading!

[this-sapphic-paradise]

I’ll be watching over you - Part 1

So this story was written based on this prompt @bungledramblingsofalesbianmind sent me.

It got out of hand, and I had to break it down into parts... I also lost count of how many times I cried writing it!

(all mistakes are mine)

Trigger Warning for character death (which I never thought I would write tbh...)

It dawns on her days after a particularly rough mission. She had been hurt, nothing that had ever bothered her before, but it was days later and Alex could still see the bruises all over her body.

That day she walks into the bathroom and takes a hard look at herself, noticing wrinkles and expression marks where, not too long ago, there was nothing but smooth skin. Sighing heavily, Alex picks up her phone, and clicks on the name of the person she wants to speak with.

“Lena? It’s Alex. I need a favor.”

They start working on it then; every week Lena and Alex meet up, and work on their project for hours on end.

Years pass; Alex reluctantly makes the transition from field agent to Director once J’onn decides to step down from his position to be a fulltime member of the Justice League. He assures her that she is ready, and that she will do great, and for once, Alex doesn’t doubt that.

She starts going less and less into the field. Over the years, Kara has grown so much, thinking before she acts, taking the time to ask for Alex’s opinion or assistance before jumping into a problem. Alex knows she has done right by Kara, and she could not be prouder of the woman and hero she has become.

Until one day, Alex feels a throbbing pain in her chest, and she only has enough time to call out Maggie’s name before her vision blurs, and she falls unconscious on the floor.

Maggie knows her right procedures, and even though she can’t imagine how panicked her wife was to find her like that, Alex knows she remembered what to do, because she wakes up at the DEO medical bay, not the general hospital.

Kara is there, alongside Maggie, but when the doctor comes in to explain to Alex what happened to her, Alex asks them both to leave, and she instructs the doctors to turn on the device that unables Kara to listen in.

“It’s the kryptonite, Director Danvers.” The doctor explains with a pained expression on her face, the expression that had set off the alarms on Alex’s mind, and made her ask Maggie and Kara to leave. “It wasn’t until very recently that we started studying the effects it has on humans. We had no reason to, but it acts like any other nuclear element, it slowly poisoned you over the years… I-I’m sorry, Director, but y-you don’t have too much time…”

Alex swallows hard, tears streaming down her face. “You cannot tell Kara. Do you understand?”

The doctor is surprised by that, she expected denial, anger, fear….but she did not foresee see the director putting her sister’s feelings before her own. “O-Of course, Director. What do you wish to tell her? What about your wife?”

“I…” Alex’s voice fails her, and she swallows hard again around the knot that is forming in her throat. “I’ll tell her the truth. P-Please, ask Maggie to come in first.”

Alex can hear Kara arguing at the door, but something Maggie says to her calms her down, because suddenly Alex can’t hear her anymore.

The frightened look on Maggie’s face is more heart-breaking to Alex than the news she had just received, and it only gets worse when the doctor explains to Maggie that there is no cure.

Denial.

Anger.

Fear.

The doctor gets plenty of each of those from Maggie, and it takes every ounce of self-restraint she has in her body to not storm out and do take everything she is feeling out on Kara, because if it weren’t for her, Alex would be as healthy as ever, and she would get to grow gray and old with the love of her life.

“You can’t tell her either, Maggie.” Alex says meekly, trying to reach out to take her wife’s hand.

Maggie lets Alex hold her hand, but she looks even more upset than before. “Why not? She did this to you! She needs to know!”

Alex can’t stop crying; somehow, she feels like she’s letting everyone down. “It’s not her fault, Maggie, you know that. You’re angry and sacred, and I am too, but I need you to do this for me, okay? Please?”

“Damn it, Danvers.” Maggie smiles painfully through her sobs, because she just can’t believe this is happening. “I thought we were gonna become the old ladies down the street…the old lesbian couple with all the cats…” Another sob wrecks Maggie’s body, and she falls over, laying half her body on top of her wife’s. “I can’t do this without you, Alex, I c-can’t…”

Alex runs her fingers through Maggie’s hair, and somehow, it feels like it’s the first time she is doing that; Alex doesn’t know if there’s an afterlife, she just in case there is, she tries to commit to memory how soft Maggie’s hair feels against her skin as she runs her fingers through them. “You can, and in time you will, Maggie, because you’re strong, stronger than everyone I know…including Kara.” Alex gently pulls on Maggie’s shoulder to get her to look at her. “She can’t know, Maggie. Losing me will be hard enough, but if she finds out it’s because of the kryptonite, she won’t forgive herself, and I’m afraid of what that might do to her.”

They talk for a few more minutes until they hear an impatient knock on the door, and they know it’s Kara.

“I’ll come back later, okay?” Maggie promises, placing a sweet kiss to Alex’s forehead. “and I’ll bring you some clothes from home.”

Maggie leaves, and at that very same second, Kara is by Alex’s side, holding her hand. Alex can see Kara moving her mouth, she knows her sister is talking to her, but all Alex can do is notice how Kara hasn’t aged a single day; she still looks exactly like that clumsy girl who managed to save her plane from crashing down. Kara has matured, but she hasn’t aged, and part of Alex resents her for that; for being nearly indestructible, for being able to do so many extraordinary things, for not having to worry too much about not going back to her own wife after a tough fight.

And because the rock that Alex spent her entire life protecting Kara from is ultimately her own downfall.

“Alex? Alex? Can you hear me?” Kara’s voice brings Alex back to the present, and in the back of her mind she chastises herself for letting those old feelings resurface; feelings that she has already dealt with.  

“Yes, I’m sorry, Kara, I can. I’m here.”

“Alex, what’s going on? I’m scared.” Kara doesn’t know what’s happening yet, but Maggie left crying so she knows it’s something bad.

“I’m sorry, Kara…” Alex starts crying again; that knot in her throat seeming ten times bigger now. “I-I…I won’t be around for much longer…”

“No!!” A sob wrecks Kara’s body, and she shakes her head refusing to believe her sister. “No, no, no, Alex…. No! Not you…I can’t lose you too!” the words come out strained, her voice high in despair.

��Kara…”

“No!” Kara says firmly, holding her hand up to stop Alex. “I-I’ll talk to Lena, okay? She- She’ll figure something out! She has to!”

“Kara,” Alex tries again, pushing herself up to try to sit up, but she’s stopped short as pain shoots through her chest, and she winces louder than she would have liked.

The sound halts Kara’s panic attack; she knows her sister too well, she knows that a healthy Alex Danvers would never let herself wince like that. “Please,” Kara’s voice is softer, sounding almost calm, “Don’t try to sit up, you need to rest.” Kara tells herself she can panic later, but now she’ll do her best to remain calm for her sister.

Alex wants to scoff, she wants to say, “I’m not dead!” But she will be soon, and neither of them needs the reminder so she doesn’t put up a fight.

Kara sits next to Alex on the bed, and taking a calming breath, she asks, “What exactly did the doctor say?”

Alex recites the lie she rehearsed with the doctor, a convincing story about an alien element she came in contact with during her last field mission, and how they are still trying to figure out what the element is, and only then will they be able to start studying its effects and how to reverse them.

“The best lies are laced with hints of truth, doctor.” Alex said with a sad smile; after a lifetime of lying, Alex knows too damn well what works and what doesn’t.

“And- and…” Kara stutters, trying her best to dry every tear falling from her eyes. “And h-how long d-do you have?” She has to bite her lip at the of the question to keep a whimper from escaping her.

Alex’s cool façade breaks for a second, and she wants to grab Kara’s hands, she wants to sink her fingernails into her sister’s skin, and scream at the top of her lungs that she is not ready to go; that there are still so many things she hasn’t done, so many places she hasn’t had the chance to take Maggie to. Alex wants to scream. She wants to admit to her sister that she is terrified, that she doesn’t want to suffer, that she’s scared to her very core.

But Alex Danvers never puts herself before anyone.

She swallows her pain.

She pushes her fear down.

And she replies, “The doctor isn’t sure. It could be a week, it could be a month… They have no way to be sure…”

Kara may be the girl of steel, she may be the hero that never physically bends or breaks, but she is not as strong as Alex, she has never been. A disgruntled noise boils from the pit of her stomach, and makes its way up, forcing Kara to double over as the sound escapes her mouth, leaving her a sobbing mess in front of her sister.

“You are going to be okay, Kara.” Alex says through her own tears. “I need to be strong for me, I need you to look after Maggie when I’m gone. She will try to push you away, but remind her that she is a Danvers too, and we, Danvers, look after our own, okay? Promise me, Kara. I need you to promise you won’t let her feel alone.”

Kara only cries harder, because of course her sister isn’t thinking of herself even in a time like this. “I promise, I promise.” Kara repeats over and over again.

“Good.” Alex smiles softly.

“But we can try to fight this, Alex! There has to be a way!” Kara insists.

“Kara…” Alex lets her gaze drop. “I don’t think we can fight our way out of this one…”

Another heartbreaking sob escapes Kara’s lips, and she lays down next to Alex, holding her until Maggie comes back.

That night, National City residents feel the ground shake as Kara takes out her anger, her fear, and her frustration by leveling a mountain or two on the outskirts of the city.