#also its black suit superman. for no other reason than it fucks and hes hot

[bruciemilf]

Kinda really want an AU where Krypton survived and Clark still came to Earth, and the Justice League is established.

Naturally, everyone wants a smiling, helpful, God Made Man on their team. But it's safe to say Batman isn't everyone. Not when he knows sunshine both burns and heals.

Regardless, he can't deny Clark is a huge help (literally. The guy always has to slightly bend down when talking to him, and that beard frames a starshine smile too well, and why is he smiling around Bruce for? No one's happy around Batman)

"Thank you for your help. But we're not looking to expand the team at this time, --"

Surprise is clear and concise on those baby blue eyes. It makes Bruce bite the inside of his cheek. " Team? Oh no no, I'm trying to court you! Do they not have mating rituals on earth?"

Bruce does the mature thing and vanishes with a smoke bomb. Only slighting tripping over his cape.

[f4liveblogarchives]

Fantastic Four Vol 1 #129

Fri Jul 26 2019 [06:34 PM] Wack'd: The Four are landing the Fantasticar when Reed and Ben both fall ill. Sue remarks that she had to finish landing procedures, and Ben makes a woman driver joke. Classy. [06:35 PM] Wack'd: This is hot off the heels of their previous adventure so it's probably fatigue from getting their asses kicked. Why it doesn't effect Sue and Johnny I have no idea [06:38 PM] Wack'd: Meanwhile Johnny's decided that he's going to move in with Crystal. He hasn't, like, talked to her about it or anything? And also a few issues ago he called not doing that the mature thing to do. So I'm not sure where this is coming from. [06:38 PM] Wack'd: I'm starting to think that writing Fantastic Four transmits memory issues [06:39 PM] Wack'd: Or maybe writing a comic book while also being the editor in chief of the company isn't such a hot idea [06:39 PM] Wack'd: Archie Goodwin never had this problem! [06:41 PM] Wack'd: So Johnny, probably remembering that the last few times he tried to fly via firepower to find Crystal it kind of wiped him out, steals a jet instead. Reed and Ben try to stop him but Sue handily clears a path by making Ben's hands invisible [06:42 PM] Wack'd: YES YES YES YES YES YES

[06:42 PM] Wack'd: (Also: Central Asia! You know, all of it!) [06:43 PM] Bocaj: The Entirety of Central Asia [06:43 PM] Bocaj: God marvel just make up countries we know you like to do it [06:44 PM] Wack'd: What's especially weird is that Inhuman City does have a canonical in-universe location! It's in the Himalayas! [06:44 PM] Wack'd: Unfortunately, in the time since Johnny was last here, Maximus took over. AGAIN. [06:45 PM] Bocaj: ffs [06:45 PM] maxwellelvis: Are we sure this isn't the same conquest he just nope'd out of last time? [06:45 PM] Wack'd: We are! [06:45 PM] maxwellelvis: That's twice in one year. [06:45 PM] Wack'd: A narration caption informs us that Maximus got overthrown in another comic [06:46 PM] maxwellelvis: What kind of bodyguards is Black Bolt hiring because they clearly need replacing [06:46 PM] Bocaj: Its nepotism [06:46 PM] Bocaj: its all cousins and stuff [06:46 PM] Bocaj: Maybe the guy called Gorgon who is actually a satyr isn't the best for the job [06:46 PM] Bocaj: We'll never know because Blackagar refuses to interview anyone else or at all [06:46 PM] Umbramatic: rip [06:47 PM] Wack'd: Johnny, in a rare display of self control, concludes that kicking ass and taking names won't get him inside the dome Maximus has erected [06:47 PM] Wack'd: And lets himself get captured [06:49 PM] Wack'd: Johnny, considering the shit you pulled the second-to-last time you were here, I feel like the answer to that question is kind of obvious?

[06:50 PM] Wack'd: Meanwhile, in the Baxter Building, Agatha Harkness offers her resignation, as only she can--with a big giant floating head message [06:51 PM] Wack'd: Bocaj, does 1973 sound about right for her tutelage of Wanda? [06:54 PM] Bocaj: 74 I think [06:54 PM] Wack'd: Huh [06:54 PM] Wack'd: Wonder what she's getting up to in 1973 that he has to quit [06:54 PM] Bocaj: Is Franklin in a coma? [06:54 PM] Wack'd: Uh [06:54 PM] Wack'd: Not to my knowledge [06:55 PM] Bocaj: People lobotomize their super genius babies so often in comics I’m not sure if this happened to Franklin or to another super genius baby [06:55 PM] Wack'd: I'd ask Agatha about this herself, but

[06:55 PM] Bocaj: I know Superman did it to his super genius baby [06:55 PM] Bocaj: Because he was jealous [06:55 PM] Wack'd: Yeesh [06:55 PM] Bocaj: Silver age Superman could be very petty [06:56 PM] maxwellelvis: Oh, SILVER age [06:56 PM] Bocaj: Along with all the mind fucking he does to his friends constantly [06:56 PM] maxwellelvis: so that wasn't an intentional homage to the Reign of the Superman story then [06:56 PM] Wack'd: Sue continues to delight

[06:57 PM] Wack'd: Ben has perhaps an outsized confidence in Reed's good intentions but they have been best friends for like two decades, so [06:57 PM] Bocaj: Sue has learned Valkyrie’s most important lesson [06:57 PM] Wack'd: Men ain't shit? [06:57 PM] Bocaj: Men ain’t shit [06:58 PM] maxwellelvis: "Men." "BOOOOOO!" [06:58 PM] Bocaj: I think she also made allusion to masturbation [06:59 PM] Bocaj: She was talking to teenagers. So she was also giving them alcohol [06:59 PM] Wack'd: Anyway Ben decides to go see Alicia but is ambushed by--well, I mean, guess [06:59 PM] Bocaj: Ninjas [06:59 PM] maxwellelvis: What a good influence that Val is [06:59 PM] maxwellelvis: Moloids [06:59 PM] Bocaj: Ninja moloids [06:59 PM] Wack'd:

[06:59 PM] maxwellelvis: Oh right [06:59 PM] Bocaj: How was I to guess that [07:00 PM] maxwellelvis: I forgot he was also an FF villain [07:00 PM] Wack'd: C'mon guys it explicitly said "Frightful Four" at the end of last issue [07:00 PM] Bocaj: Oh [07:00 PM] maxwellelvis: I forgot Sandman was part of the Frightful Four [07:00 PM] Wack'd: Also yaaaaaaay Sandman ditched that awful costume Kirby gave him [07:00 PM] maxwellelvis: I think this is the first time he's done this in his normal duds [07:00 PM] Bocaj: His costume was bad so I’m glad he’s back to his silly civvies [07:00 PM] maxwellelvis: what happened to his cornrows? [07:00 PM] maxwellelvis: Or whatever you'd call that weird Osborn hair? [07:01 PM] Wack'd: Those didn't last long--they're done by the time he got his "zoot suit" [07:01 PM] maxwellelvis: Probably because Kirby couldn't draw them. [07:02 PM] Wack'd:

[07:02 PM] Bocaj: The weird orsborn hair had John Byrne decide that sandman was Norman’s cousin [07:03 PM] Bocaj: In Spider Man chapter 1 [07:03 PM] Wack'd: Wingless Wizard and Trapster are also here [07:03 PM] Bocaj: Paste Pot Pete [07:03 PM] Wack'd: But fortunately Medusa is on hair to even the odds a little [07:04 PM] Wack'd: Two on three. Hardly a fair fight [07:04 PM] Bocaj: Frightful ... three? [07:04 PM] Wack'd: I assume there's a fourth to be introduced [07:04 PM] maxwellelvis: You'd think the others in the Frightful Four wouldn't have a problem taking on Medusa [07:04 PM] maxwellelvis: They fought alongside her, they should know how she fights. [07:04 PM] Wack'd: And also a fifth because the caption said "plus one" last issue [07:04 PM] Wack'd: max: Counterpoint: they're all dinks [07:04 PM] maxwellelvis: True [07:06 PM] Bocaj: Rate them in terms of dink [07:06 PM] Wack'd: From least to most dink: Sandman, Wizard, Pete [07:06 PM] Wack'd: ...can someone explain this joke to me

[07:06 PM] maxwellelvis: Paste Pot Pete being so lame that even Roy doesn't feel like reminding the readers of his appearances, I assume. [07:06 PM] Wack'd: Ahhhh [07:07 PM] Bocaj: He’s a good kind of lame [07:07 PM] Bocaj: Plus he’s smarter than baron Zemo [07:07 PM] Bocaj: He actually made a universal solvent so he wouldn’t say glue a ski mask to his face for twenty years [07:08 PM] Wack'd: AND HERE SHE IS, THE FOURTH OF YOUR FRIGHTFUL FOUR--THE ONE--THE ONLY--

[07:09 PM] Bocaj: Oh shit it’s Thundra [07:09 PM] maxwellelvis: Oh shit whaddup [07:09 PM] maxwellelvis: Looking at her now, Thundra almost seems like a playful rib on Wonder Woman. [07:09 PM] Bocaj: Ben don’t be sexist, give her a punch [07:09 PM] maxwellelvis: Don't know what that never occurred to me before. [07:10 PM] Wack'd: Cute

[07:10 PM] Bocaj: Right in the baby blues [07:10 PM] maxwellelvis: Only instead of fighting for truth or love or whatever, Thundra just loves to fight, period. [07:11 PM] Bocaj: Respect [07:11 PM] Wack'd: So Thundra makes short work of Ben, and Medusa, tossing her up into the air, but Ben creates a bed of dirt to toss up and catch her in midair which is wonderful nonsense [07:12 PM] Wack'd:

[07:12 PM] Wack'd: Most people are, Medusa! [07:13 PM] maxwellelvis: Wrestling Chants - Holy Shit [07:13 PM] Wack'd: So Thundra joined up because she wants Ben. For reasons. [07:13 PM] Wack'd: And so the second Ben and Medusa are laid out, infighting starts over who gets dibs on who [07:14 PM] Wack'd: But fortunately Wizard comes to his senses

[07:14 PM] Wack'd: And an ominous cliffhanger arrives that I'm sure will prove to be a lie in no way whatsoever

[idornaseminary]

Chapter Sixty-Eight: Beatrice/Calix

And in the end, dear Cedwyn, although I’ve cherished every moment with you, your sweet kiss and tender touch, the simple fact remains that you deserve somebody who longs to be with you. You deserve somebody whose heart aches having to stay even a single night away from you, instead of me who can spend most of a year anywhere else and only think of you once in a blue moon. I have found somebody who fills my soul with sunshine, and makes each day feel like a new adventure. Please don’t wait for me to begin your life anymore, go and search for the woman who will never let your bed grow cold and will give wings to your heart.

Your friend and former lover,

Bea

Beatrice let out a small sigh and stuck her quill back in the ink well, allowing the wet liquid a precious few moments to dry. She bent down and pressed a kiss to the parchment so the imprint of her scarlet lipstick was left behind, carrying the last sentiments of a love once borne to the man she once held dear. Folding the piece of paper up and sealing it with hot purple wax she imprinted with her family crest, she made sure to grab the letter addressed to her mother, tossing the two dispatches into her purse. She wriggled her nose side to side as a mental checklist ran through her mind, making sure she had everything she might need that night in the enchanted taupe leather crossbody bag. 

Comfortable trainers? Check. Old t-shirt? Check. Skinny jeans? First aid kit? Check, check. Letters for dad? Check.

A knock sounded on the hard mahogany door, drawing the witch’s attention away from her preparation for the mission that night. She nervously glanced over at Halina’s side of the room, quickly casting a dusting charm that lifted the fine film of grime from the desk, bed, and armoire like a blanket. Turning her attention to the floor length mirror set beside the fireplace, she ran her shaking fingers over the fine black velvet that covered her lean body like a sheath on a sword. She caught her cheek between her teeth as she studied the sparkly stilettos that accentuated the large slit in her skirt rising from her toes and ending just above her left knee, offering a hint of the tribal sleeve wrapped around her thigh. Raising a finger to summon the matching suede jacket that went with her purse, Beatrice swept her long, inky black curls aside as it flew from its place in her closet into her hand.

Another knock rapt against the door, and she quickly tugged the coat on over her sleeveless gown, grabbing her purse and wand before heading out, her heels clicking against the cold hardwood floors. She wrapped her fingers around the doorknob and took in a deep breath, knowing that her night would only get more complicated from here on out. Closing her cat-lined eyes, she quickly opened the door and pasted on a bright smile for the august, flinty man standing patiently waiting on the other side: Garreth Selwyn.

“Hello, Beatrice,” he said placidly, the corners of his white mustache turned up in what she knew was a smile, his hands held open low at his sides for a hug. Typically a straight-laced and imperious man, Garreth acted out of logic and reason, which led him to come across as cold and clinical in his administration of the hospital, and occasionally in his parenting at home.

His daughter beamed up at him and took a step forward, turned her head so her makeup didn’t smudge the pristine white linen of his shirt as he wrapped his strong arms around her. It was genuinely nice to see her father, as she did love him as many daughters love their fathers, but she also knew the was a clock on how much time with her he could handle before he started talking about the hospital again, and that was the last thing she wanted to hear about. “Shall we?” he asked, pulling back and offering her his suit coat clad arm.

She smoothed down the front of her dress and nodded, casting one more quick glance around the room before pulling the mahogany panel shut behind her, casting a silent locking charm on it before her father pulled her too far away.

“Have you heard from mom lately?” Beatrice asked in a small voice as they descended the grand staircase, the train of her dress elegantly trailing down the red-carpeted stairs behind her.

“Not since the funeral,” Garreth said simply, giving the salt and peppered hair of his beard a pensive stroke before resting his free hand on his heart, something his daughter recognized as an attempt not to let his emotions get the best of him.

“You went?” “I owed it to your grandmother.” Beatrice chewed on her bottom lip and nodded, focusing on taking the stairs slowly so she didn’t fall down the remaining four flights. “Would you like to eat here or go into Old Aroon and join the celebration?” she asked, trying her best not to let his solemn exterior put her off. “We could get Tricko’s,” she added in a sing-song tone, instantly perking up at the sight of Calix down below by the entrance to the Great Hall.

“Come here.”

“Piss off, dude!”

“Sam, it’s a mess, come here,” Calix laughed heartily, reaching out his hands to fix his roommate’s shambolically twisted tie, meticulously perfecting the knot before stepping back with a playful wink. “That’s better, buddy. Have some pride in yourself.”

Sam shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, his cheeky smile lighting up his face. “Hey, I don’t really care if it’s a mess. Once the party gets going in Roderick’s, I will not be wearing it for long.”

“Just try and keep your shirt on this year, okay?”

“I was Superman!”

“I don’t care,” Calix said, “I couldn’t give two tuttany-fucks if you were the King of Sheba, keep your god-damn shirt on.”

“Fine, I will,” Sam said, rolling his eyes dramatically like a scolded child. “Your costume looks really cool too, dude. It looks super realistic.”

Calix thanked him, glancing at one of the long mirrors framed in gold and silver that lined the Great Hall, proud of the illusionary charm that made his facial bones seem to jut out through the thin skin ever so gently, strong, dark lines tracing the shape of his jaw and cheekbones, his eyes sunk maliciously into his skull and the colour fading for the preference of pallor; it didn’t flatter his appearance, but it suited the occasion.

Sam looked over Calix’s shoulder, towards the grand staircase with wide eyes as his roommate checked his handiwork, “Shit, dude. Your girl has just arrived - I’m telling you, you are one lucky, lucky man.”

Calix spun excitedly on his heels, his heart soaring with delight to hear that Beatrice was ready for the evening. Calix hadn’t seen her all day, not since the morning before, and he was beginning to miss her precious company. But, as he glanced towards the red-carpet flowing down the magnificent staircase, a lump formed in his throat behind the courteous grin as he recognised the gentleman descending beside his beautiful Beatrice.

Garreth Selwyn.

Calix’s boss at St. Mungo’s.

Oh, Christ...

Her heart skipped a beat as they got closer to Calix and his roommate, Sam, and as much as Beatrice wanted nothing more than to run over to her boyfriend, wrap her arms around his neck, and leap into his arms, she knew that the sight of such a spectacle would not be tolerated by her father. She tried to control her smile from growing into a full-blown grin, causing her cheeks to cramp up, which made it somewhat easier to feign indifference. Garreth, oblivious to the warring tide of emotions rolling around in his daughter’s mind, followed her gaze to the pair of young men standing in their Halloween costumes at the bottom of the staircase, presumably waiting for their dates for the evening. Apart from fyrsta tunglið, Halloween was the best night on Isle Velum to let loose and party, and there was no doubt in his mind that the two gentleman patiently standing guard would have a wonderful time. The closer they got, the more he realized he knew one of the two youths, deciding to approach them with his daughter. “Pardon me, but is that…” he paused, eyes crinkling at the corners as a loud, jolly laugh escaped his lips. “Calix Galen, as I live and breathe. It’s wonderful to see you, young man,” he exclaimed, momentarily dropping Beatrice’s arm to extend a handshake to the former intern.

“Dr. Selwyn,” Calix said sophisticatedly, forcing the words past the crippling tightness in his dry throat, praying that when the sound hit the air his voice didn’t dissolve into nothingness. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. It had absolutely no idea you frequented Idorna at Halloween.”

He stole one single glance at Beatrice, his eyes conveying the surprise and stupefaction he was experiencing momentarily before his gentlemanly grace returned as rapidly as the confusion had broken through.

“Dr. Selwyn, this is my roommate, Samuel Jones,” Calix said, stepping aside to introduce his friend, who unfortunately was less proficient at hiding his swirling emotions beneath a colorful facade. “He was just leaving, he has quite a lot to do this evening, I fear.”

Sam, relieved at the opportunity Calix was providing him, nodded his head violently: “I do, I do. I best leave you both. I’ll see you later Calix.”

“I usually don’t attend, but I had to make a special allowance this year for my daughter,” Garreth said, gesturing to Beatrice beside him though his gaze stayed transfixed on the talented young mediwizard.

The petite Samoan witch couldn’t help but smile, gleefully surprised that for a split second her father’s attention wasn’t on her. However, the revelation that the two most important men in her life knew each other was startling to say the very least. She pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to stifle the onslaught of laughs that threatened to burst from her dark red lips and expose them both. Clearing her throat she shook her head and took in a deep breath, nearly shaking as she tried to remain composed. “We were just heading down to Old Aroon to join in the celebration,” she said politely, hoping to offer him an opportunity to leave as she tried to tug the old man away from the two handsome wizards.

Garreth grinned and nodded, once more offering his arm to his daughter, who easily took it though she would much rather have been by her boyfriend’s side. “You should join us, Calix. It’s a lovely night out and I’d love to catch up with both of you. Join us, please.”

Sam clapped Calix’s shoulder roughly as he promptly ran away, his cowering tail between his legs, conveying a wishful whisper of good luck and prosperity. Meeting Beatrice’s gorgeous eyes, a small part of Calix wanted to follow his friend, to avoid the seething awkwardness and tension and discomfort that could potentially threaten to destroy the foundation of his new relationship in the company of his girlfriend’s father. But, he couldn’t walk away now - he wanted to spend his time with her. He wanted to treat her right, though his ideas of a romantic evening were slowly disappearing with every passing second.

“It would be my pleasure,” Calix said gallantly, knowing his future with Beatrice - and his future as a mediwizard at St. Mungo’s - lay in the hands of the gentleman whose gaze was transfixed with pride. “Provided I am not disturbing either of you and you don’t mind my current state of appearance, and I insist I pay my own way. Honestly, I’m quite glad I wore something formal this evening.”

Beatrice blushed as she looked down at her elegant gown, wondering if her father hadn’t shown up, where it might have ended up later. She couldn’t help but smile at the chivalrous young man who had knowingly signed up for one of the most awkward evenings Rodrick’s would likely ever see. It warmed her heart to no end that he chose to spend the evening with her, even though it meant her father tagging along for the ride, making her even more certain about the letter to Cedwyn sitting in her purse.

“Nonsense, my boy,” Garreth said, clapping a hand on the young man’s shoulder, his strong, weathered fingers briefly digging into his arm like a hawk’s talons. “It’s my treat. I’m disrupting your plans, the very least I can do is offer you a delicious meal and pleasant company. I insist,” he said, leading the unlikely trio out of the castle, down towards the carriages waiting at the gates below.

“Pleasant company indeed,” Calix mused, throwing his stormy eyes, deep-set in his skull, towards Beatrice as Garreth Selwyn released his powerful grip, a bruise-inducing gesture that left Calix’s skin brightly coloured after his first internship at St. Mungo’s, when he had been under the watchful eye of Dr. Selwyn every day.

As they walked to the Threstal-drawn carriages, Calix exchanged polite and polished small talk with his girlfriend and her father, often on medical matters which Calix disappointingly knew alienated Beatrice. He tried to carefully steer the conversation in more suitable, inclusive directions, but Garreth was a stubborn man and he always found a way to question Calix’s opinion on the efficacy of one spell or another or the stupidities expressed in some of the prescribed textbooks at Idorna, valuing the young mediwizard’s idiosyncratic approach to healing and nurture.

Calix found himself gripping the soft skin of his mouth tight between his teeth while they travelled to Old Aroon, leaving pitted marks on the inside of his cheek, before he accidentally let a loving nickname slip past his pale lips, tinged with black and purple as the illusion altered the structure of his face in the moonlight. He was finding it incredibly difficult not to sit next to Beatrice, not to hold her small hand in his, not to kiss her rosy cheek and whisper softly in her ear about his intentions for the evening before Enzo’s contentious plan brought the joyous celebration to an abrupt and dangerous conclusion.

Arriving in the hectic and strenuous village, alive with the new and old of Idorna, Garreth exited the carriage first, stepping onto the cobble streets. When he wasn’t looking, Calix quickly leaned across and placed a soft kiss on Beatrice’s lips, pulling back before Garreth turned around again to assist his daughter out of the carriage.

That should be my job!

Beatrice couldn’t help but find the whole situation highly amusing, and if she was being completely honest, entirely frustrating. Her father and mother had their specific allotted times throughout the year to be with her, and this was definitely not part of the agreement. Idorna, much like Hogwarts, was her safe haven, even if her father had also attended both schools, they never had to be there at the same time. This was a breach of confidence in Beatrice’s eyes, and having to step back into the shoes of an aristocratic young lady with the world at her feet, ready for her taking was not in her plan for the next several months. Though, it was a facade she wore particularly well. 

As her father escorted the pair of them back into the ancient town teeming with students- both old and new -from Idorna, Beatrice smiled over at Calix and blew him a small kiss. The trio stepped inside Rodrick’s pub to find it packed, not that any of them were surprised by this fact, Garreth least of all. He cleared his throat and turned his back to the crowd he towered over, smiling down at his daughter and his protege.

“I’ll go find us a booth if you would like to get the first round of drinks,” he said, handing a little leather pouch teeming with Galleons to Beatrice before heading off in pursuit of a place the three of them could sit. Not more than a moment after he was gone, she turned to Calix and leaned up, cupping his gaunt cheek in her hand, setting a soft, eager kiss to his pale lips. “I’m so so so sorry, lo’u alofa,” she gushed, lacing their fingers together as the crowd around them protected the young couple from the sight of her father. “This was not how I wanted to spend my night with you at all.”

Calix welcomed the loving kiss wholehearted, wrapping his strong arms around his girlfriend’s petite waist as the peanut-crunching crowd, goggle-eyed and staring at the young couple in their affections, shielded their hidden intimacies. “Stop apologising, sweetheart, I still get to spend my night with you. That’s all I want. But, did you really have to wear a dress like that, a stór?” He planted little kisses and laughter along the curvature of her neck, pecking at the delicate skin, careful not to leave any dishonest marks that would be immediately identified by a talented and successful healer. “You go get the drinks, yeah? I’ll go find your father and keep him company. Get me just a water, okay - it’s gonna be a long night.”

Hugging Beatrice tight to his chest, his skeleton-gaunt lips nipping at her ear, he reluctantly let her slip away from his warm embrace as he meandered awkwardly through the rhapsodic crowd to the cosy booth, in a darker corner of Roderick’s where the roaring music was not so loud and obnoxious as to drive all sane thoughts from Calix’s mind, and where Garreth Selwyn was sitting patiently.

A happy sigh slipped between her lips, tugging a little moan of longing out with it as Beatrice watched her boyfriend wander back towards her father and the beginning of what was already expected to be a terribly long evening. She turned towards the bar and ordered a butterbeer, a double shot of firewhiskey straight up, and a glass of water, patiently waiting amongst the crowd of inebriated students and alumni.

I really hope you tell my dad about us, Cal. I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending you’re just like everybody else.

Garreth let out a loud sigh and grinned at Calix, having unbuttoned his suit coat, his long, languid arm stretched out along the back of the booth where he sat patiently waiting opposite the youthful mediwizard. “So,” he started off, glancing over his shoulder before casting a silent bubble around their table, prohibiting passersby from listening into their conversation, his bright blue eyes darkening. “Tell me about the four patients in the Infirmary.”

Letting a small sigh pass his thin lips, his body aching to be pressed against the warmth of his love, Calix waved his hands in a wide arch, crossing them in front of his face. The eerie illusion evanesced into dissolution, fullness and strength blossoming and returning to his features. He leaned forward, arms folded on the cold table, as the last of the magic vanished into the ether. His grey eyes, heavy with emotion and longing, travelled across the bar to where he could recognised the flow of Beatrice’s black gown, before returning to the gentleman sitting across from him. His mind began to whirr and spin, memories of the fallen cascading over him like heavy rainfall.

“So, you’ve heard,” Calix said, not in the least bit surprised, “To be honest, I’ve never seen anything like it before. They’ve been unresponsive for weeks now, since the Quidditch match. Completely and utterly unresponsive to all stimulation, nothing has worked. And clinically, they’re perfectly fine. Perfectly fine, but they just won’t wake up. I know it’s not a disease, I know it’s a not a bug or a magical creature, it’s magic, pure, unaltered magic. It’s a spell or a charm or a curse or a hex, something old, rooted in dead magic, long forgotten or replaced by modern simplicities. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

The older wizard hummed softly and stroked his beard, jaw clenched tightly as he pondered the medical conundrum. Finally speaking as he saw his daughter start to make her way over to the booth, levitating a tray of drinks above her head, he leaned in slightly. “Perhaps, if it’s an old curse, logic follows that there must be an old remedy to release them,” he said, combing his fingers through his head full of grey hair, sitting back as Beatrice arrived. “Thank you, my dear,” he said, picking up the glass filled with firewhiskey, taking a minute sip. “Calix and I were just having a friendly chat.” She grinned and let out a relieved sigh, inhaling the calming familiar scent of sugary cherry blossoms washing over her as she slid into the red leather clad booth beside her boyfriend. “I’m so glad to hear that,” she said. Before she allowed her father a chance to further explain, she leaned over and claimed a quick kiss from Calix, her delicate hand sliding up the inside of his leg from his knee under the table.

Calix nodded his head, the dark memories of the fallen students replaced by the radiant and splendid allure and loveliness of Beatrice as she sat beside him, his fickle and disloyal skin beginning to colour a scandalous pink as she drew close, without the protective illusion covering his face. Calix bit his lip gently at the sight of her, the soft curve of her neck and the sallow colouration of her skin, bathed in honied cinnamon, captivated and enamoured him, like a moth to a majestic flame. As he watched her, with love and devotion, he didn’t recognise her movements until it was too late.

He felt her soft lips against his, her warm breath on his skin as his thundering heart filled his body with sensual blood lamenting her previous departure. To fight against the tide of his emotions, his yearning and her ministrations, was nugatory, a fruitless, profitless and pointless endeavour. So, Calix simply let the kiss take. When the warmth of her hand pressed against his inner thigh however, he slowly pulled away, his stormy eyes betraying his worry and embarrassment when the thought of Beatrice’s father, his boss and mentor, who was fully unaware of their entanglement, was now a unwilling and unintentional witness to their displays of passion.

What the fuck… What did she just do… Does he already know? What the fuck…

She pulled back a few inches and batted her long, thick eyelashes innocently at the paralyzed expression frozen on the face of her boyfriend, unsure why she felt his body go rigid like a corpse beneath her fingers. “What’s wrong?” she whispered, setting a hand lightly on his chest as if to calm his heart, beginning to beat out of time in a blind panic that struggled to keep a rhythm.

Garreth sat up straight, his thick, white bushy eyebrows furrowing in confusion, shoulders squaring as a soldier preparing for a battle would. He opened his mouth and closed it again, looking down at the glass in front of him, quickly downing the rest of the burning liquid contents before sending it flying back to the bar for a refill. “Darling,” he started off in a growl, looking over at his daughter who sat curled up beside his apprentice, her arms draped seductively across his shoulders. “Calix and I were talking about the four students in the Infirmary, but I think what you wanted to talk about is a far more pressing matter entirely,” he stated through clenched teeth.

Calix’s eyes fluttered and quivered back and forth between Beatrice, batting her eyelashes like an innocent without any idea as to serious consequences of her rambunctious actions, and Garreth, who was glaring viciously at the mediwizard he held in high regard with roaring anger and a double shot of firewhiskey in his blood. The proximity of his girlfriend’s body to his, and the responses he couldn’t control when she was flush to his skin, left Calix dumbfounded for the first time, losing all command of language and his mastery of words. The kiss was a crippling indictment of their love and Beatrice’s sudden affections, her hands roaming Calix’s body freely and unrestrainedly in ways that she previously confined only to their most private moments, sealed the unforeseen confession of their relationship.

“I hadn’t said anything to your father about us, Bea,” Calix whispered, glancing across the table when the mental gears provided him with the ability to speak once more, desperate to diffuse the situation before it escalated any further, “We were talking medicine.”

“Oh.” Beatrice nodded slowly and picked up her chilled crystal mug of butterbeer, downing half of the sweet boozy fluid before turning to her father with a sweet smile playing on her lips. “So, umm…” she paused and ran her fingers through her wild indigo curls, allowing the alcohol time to enter her bloodstream and provide her with the courage she needed to get through the exchange without bursting into tears, or worse, yelling at her father.

“As you know, Dad, since graduating Hogwarts, Cedwyn and I have been on again, off again for quite some time now. And, quite frankly, I’m done with it. He never wanted a bigger commitment from me, and even if he did, I don’t know that I would be willing to accept. If you could make sure he receives this, I’d greatly appreciate it,” she explained as she pulled the letter addressed to him from her purse, setting it on the table in front of her father.

She turned towards the handsome, compassionate, albeit enervated man to her right and took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together. “Calix has been my friend for quite some time now. He even saved my life a few weeks ago, and he makes me happier than I ever thought possible. I wake up in the morning, excited to start the day because I know he’s there, waiting patiently to hear about it. He inspires me and makes me push myself to be a better person because I know he deserves it,” she explained, staring into the terrified stormy grey eyes of her boyfriend, stroking the back of his hand with her thumb as she spoke. “We’ve only been dating for a few weeks, and I know that you of all people frown on such strong emotions so early in a relationship, so I’ll spare you the words themselves, but Calix makes me happy, and I hope you can at the very least respect that.”

Calix, waiting for the emotional and tempestuous rollercoaster to begin, listened eagerly and intently to Beatrice’s amorous and torrid outpouring of sentiment, the rigor and rigidity of his paralysed muscles loosening as her loving words, packed with kindness and open honesty about the joy and happiness of their newly founded relationship, filled him with pride and admiration, and a sheer, unsurmountable delight at being the one man who could call Beatrice Selwyn ‘his.’ He even ignored the mention of someone called Cedwyn.

As she knitted their fingers together, Calix wrapped his strong arm reassuringly around Beatrice’s waist, pulling her forcefully to the side and down onto his shoulder, cradling her head in his arms. He placed a long kiss on the crown of her head, his fingers running through her feral curls, whispering soft words to her at her diatribal outburst of passion.

“Garreth,” Calix said, his voice stronger, more refined and passional, inspired by the words of his girlfriend and his desire to keep making her happy. “I’m very sorry that you had to find out this way. It was never my intention to spring something of this magnitude on you, in a bar, surrounded by people. I would hope you know me well enough to understand that I would never want that, but, now that you know, I need you to understand without any shred of doubt or hesitation, that I love your daughter. I love her. I do. I probably don’t say it enough, maybe it’s too early to start saying it, but…”

Calix looked down into Beatrice’s eyes, half-clouded over: “I love you, Beatrice Selwyn.”

She couldn’t help but smile up at her boyfriend, her eyes brimming with tears, bottom lip trembling as she leaned up and stole another kiss, this one sweeter and more meaningful than the few pecks they had managed to squeeze in earlier in the night. “I love you too, Calix Galen,” she purred softly, giving his warm hand a soft squeeze, tenderly setting her forehead against his.

She let out a soft laugh and cupped his cheek in her hand, committing the way his rough five-o’clock shadow felt under her plump fingertips; the way his long brown hair caught the dim light in the dark corner of the bar; the way her leg curled over his beneath the table and the toe of her shoe sat pressed against his ankle; even the disapproving way Garreth cleared his throat and studied the contents of his glass.

Garreth downed his glass a second time and quickly tucked the letter into the breast pocket of his fine suit coat, clasping his hands together as he turned to the enamored couple in front of him, mulling over what he wanted to say. “Calix?” he asked, struggling to keep the protective malice out of his voice as he studied the way his beautiful daughter held him close.

Calix savoured the sweet kiss, holding her cheek in the roughness of his palm and moving his lips delicately with hers. In that moment, all he desired was Beatrice and her happiness - everything in the world was either a joyous agent to enhance her jubilation, and Calix wanted to give her nothing but jouissance, or catalysts that accelerated the appearance of disconsolateness and disconsolation that Calix wanted to eliminate from her life.

Holding her tight to his chest, he turned his head towards Garreth, noting the malice and hostility seething in his voice, in the tightness of his muscles and the changing of his chemistry. Calix could sense his protective instincts, his paternal need to keep his daughter safe, burning the air around in the wooden booth, the rancid smell of ozone and worry hanging around like spectres.

“Yes?”

“If you’re going to date my daughter, I hope you well know that I expect you to call me ‘Garreth’ from here on out, unless we happen to be at the hospital, in which case, I know you’ll be the model of professionalism,” he said, swallowing the lump in his throat as the spell for a stinging hex swirled around his mind, ready for firing if the young wizard stepped a toe out of line. He stood up and held out a hand for Calix to shake, noticing a colleague of his, Dr. Evans, sitting alone at the bar sipping lightly at a glass of wine.

Calix, releasing a lungful of air he hadn’t realised he was holding since Garreth had called his name, protective charms flooding his mind as his mentor’s chemistry swung rapidly towards aggressive assault before mellowing slowly. Still holding Beatrice close to him, he reached across and firmly shook Garreth’s rough hand, a gentleman’s understanding between them, a special comprehension that only they would share, a blessing for continuation that needed no words - they knew exactly what the other was thinking, sensing every emotion in the biochemistry.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” Calix sighed softly, looking down at Beatrice with a genuine grin of delight. “Thank you, Garreth. I mean it, thank you.” The older Welsh wizard gave a curt nod and offered his daughter a small smile, holding his arms out for another hug, which she happily accepted, burying her face in her father’s chest, the smell of burning ozone and antiseptic calming her for once. “Thank you, Dad,” she said, trying to hold back the tears until he was gone. “Come see me off tomorrow morning, please,” he whispered, pressing a whiskery kiss to her forehead. “I’ll leave you two up to your mischief now. Just, please, try not to get into any serious trouble,” he added, narrowing his eyes at Calix for a split second before a more congenial mask slid into place. “Goodnight you two,” Garreth called over his shoulder as he turned and left, going to sit beside his old friend and former protege.

Beatrice let out a small, relieved laugh as she turned around to face her boyfriend, feeling as though a huge weight was lifted off her chest. “What now, my love?” she asked, setting her slender hands in his.

“This,” he smiled, wrapping his arms around her in a vice-like grip and pulling her down onto his chest, falling backward onto the plush, leather seat in hysterics. The protective bubble reappeared, pink mist swirling to replaced Garreth’s magic, blocking out the sound of his laughter to the outside world as he kissed his girlfriend sweetly on the lips, cuddling her close to him like his favourite stuffed teddy.

“I think that went well? Here’s hoping the rest of the night goes as smoothly.”

Beatrice giggled and ran her fingers through his hair, her silver painted nails gently tracing the shell of his ears, her warm chocolate eyes settled on his. “I hope so too,” she murmured, butterbeer laced breath warming the air between them as her lips found his again in a joyfully passionate kiss.

[kryptoncave]

your tags 🙌

#clark: :00 where did mate go! oh bruce you and your tag games!!!!#bruce: no you dont get it you like batman!#clark: oh i know you're bruce wayne! you always say ' hm. yummy' unded your breath when you drink tea. its the cutest thing#bruce wayne#dc#dc comics#superbat#clark kent#batman#bruce x clark#krypton survives au#also its black suit superman. for no other reason than it fucks and hes hot

Kinda really want an AU where Krypton survived and Clark still came to Earth, and the Justice League is established.

Naturally, everyone wants a smiling, helpful, God Made Man on their team. But it's safe to say Batman isn't everyone. Not when he knows sunshine both burns and heals.

Regardless, he can't deny Clark is a huge help (literally. The guy always has to slightly bend down when talking to him, and that beard frames a starshine smile too well, and why is he smiling around Bruce for? No one's happy around Batman)

"Thank you for your help. But we're not looking to expand the team at this time, --"

Surprise is clear and concise on those baby blue eyes. It makes Bruce bite the inside of his cheek. " Team? Oh no no, I'm trying to court you! Do they not have mating rituals on earth?"

Bruce does the mature thing and vanishes with a smoke bomb. Only slighting tripping over his cape.