#if you by some fucking miracle are a real person. which i heavily doubt. stop fucking doing this

[the-kipsabian]

Ayo! Greetings! I hope you are doing pretty well! I’m really sorry for asking this as I’m truly in dire need of help. My cat needs some immediate help for her surgery so I’m trying to raise some funds for her. If you have some spare time, please check it out the post that I have pinned for her, and if you feel it in your heart to help, please do us the favor by boosting the post or share it! Even if you cannot donate, spreading the word is definitely more than enough. Thank you for your kindness, and so sorry again for being this direct! <33

//update they blocked me instantly so hey anyone peeping this post or in their url tag just know this is a scam :) stay safe out there kids

you know what i feel in my heart

fuck no 🙏❤

hey kids, lets play a game of spot a scam again!! (im copying the message ive replied with before here and the original is at the bottom if you wish to reblog that one :) just editing this a bit here to show the new stuff they are putting out there in this very message yay!!)

okay this is literally the same story ive seen before at least three times. its word to word the same. youre not even trying

reblogging ONLY FROM ORIGINAL SOURCES posts in the past two days so :)

also they try to act more human with a decent description and likes and follows turned off. dont try hun

their only original post as far as i scrolled (which admittedly wasnt very far as its obvious this is a scam lol) is the donation post. unsurprisingly

ive said it before and i’ll say it again - they seem to target people in similar positions that they are supposedly in, trying to pluck that sympathy cord with “your pet is sick so you are sensitive and know how this feels”. this isnt my case rn but i obviously have posted cat photos and i have a donation ko-fi link in my pinned post sssoooo

“pls consider answering this ask privately” lmao so what people dont know youre a scammer? NEXT (this isnt in this ask surprisingly, but im leaving it in here cause they do this occasionally still)

a simple search even within tumblr tells you people already know about this. the account, the story and the cat. you aint fooling anymore

if unsure kids, ask a friend and google things 👍 reverse image search, for example, is your best friend!! also googling the latter half of the given paypal name reveals immediately that this is a scam. plastered all over the first search page lmao

also kids, in case youre asking “well what bad could a one little me reblogging a post even if its a scam do if i dont donate :/” 1. im sorry what and 2. it makes them look legitimate which they are not. the more notes the more trusted the source cause tumblr is full of idiots (sorry not sorry ive been here for over 11 years i know what people are like) plus you put your friends, mutuals and followers in a risk of participating in a scam. and have your name associated with it as well. do i need to go on?

anyways hi go report this blog and always be hesitant if someone you dont know asks you for donations like this. unless its a beloved mutual on your dash, reconsider. stay safe, thanks 💜

looking forward to being blocked immediately after posting this, but i’ll be sure to report you for a scam. :) also fuck you for using someone elses poor cat and their situation to literally scam good natured people out of money, what the fuck is wrong with you

peace and love, fuck you ✌💜

[thornedrose44]

Ends of the Earth

(Read it on AO3)

The world ended.

Well, that's not technically accurate… humanity's time on earth ended, a lot sooner than to be expected which is where the tragedy of it all lies, if Lena were to guess.

Not that Lena's own time on earth had ended. She was still here, pottering on, miles underground, fiddling with forgotten experiments and watching endless hours of television that she never had time for before… 

She wondered if this was what retirement was like… 

Admittedly, Lena had always imagined it involving more travelling, maybe some gardening and it had never been lonely. She refused to acknowledge that when she thought of getting older it was with crinkly blue eyes and silver streaked blonde hair at her side which always helped soothe the ache in her chest that such morbid thoughts produced. Now, even that fantasy was well and truly gone. 

She would only ever get to watch herself grow old now, at least she didn't have to worry about the paparazzi's comments about her receding good looks.

It wasn’t a bad life, not really. She had enough food to see her through old age or until the tempting call of the void summoned her. If Lena was being honest, which she kind of had to be when the only person she had left to lie to was herself… She knew it would be the latter that would take her in the end. 

See the thing is… Lena hears… things. 

They’re not real, or they are but they are merely the sounds that an empty building creates to keep itself company. The groan of a pipe. The squeak of a beam. The hiss of a fridge. The knock of a mechanised system keeping the air breathable and the water on hand.

Lena still had enough of her sanity to convince herself that the sounds were a natural part of her safe haven (‘prison’ more like). But there were mutters at the back of her mind that said other things. That squeak was a mouse still alive on the outside. That groan was a ghost, trapped forever alongside Lena. That hiss, the blast-proof doors whistling open and irreparably bursting Lena’s protective bubble. That knock…

The knock was the worst.

The knock was the call of the void that allowed Lena to fantasise. To dream.

That knock meant she was no longer alone.

That knock… that knock could be everything she ever wanted…

That knock could be Kara…

And that… 

Lena knew that it would be the void that got her before old age. It would be that knock, her loneliness and the hope of seeing blue eyes just one more time… just one more time…. That would do her in.

***

The first six months hadn’t been too bad. Lena had kept herself busy making the repairs she needed to keep her safe haven ‘safe’ for as long as possible. The Children of Earth’s final attack, that had prompted humanity’s departure two months ahead of schedule and Lena staying behind to ensure their escape, had wrought significant damage to the structure of the bunker. 

The work was dull. But it was good. It kept her hands busy. Her mind distracted. And it meant she could fall into bed, utterly exhausted and free of thoughts of what ifs and almosts and not yets and soons and new beginnings… 

The majority of the work required for Lena’s home to be brought to tip-top shape was done after six months. The next six months were about optimisation. Trying to make her home… more homey… An already difficult task when there was little in the way of colour to decorate the concrete bunker, but a nigh on impossible task when Lena’s home had never been four walls but blue eyes, golden hair, a bright smile and a warmth that made even the darkest moments survivable.

It was the second year that broke something in Lena that she would never get back again.

It made the light in her chest steadily dim and extinguish.

A candle that had remained alight with the childish possibility that Lena would get her miracle, her last second save and a happy ending.

She knew it was impossible. Knew that the surface of the Earth was not accessible to another living being. That the transmat portal could not be repaired, the necessary materials completely depleted - even if Lena had the materials to repair it, she wouldn’t have been able to generate a high enough voltage to power it. That the survivors were now countless lightyears away and a ship travelling to her would arrive long after she had turned to little more than dust in this mausoleum. 

To survive the breaking (more specifically the ‘breakdown’ that had Lena spending pretty much the entirety of a month drunk off her ass), Lena found a routine. She found a routine and stuck to it. 

A routine that kept her busy, mentally and physically occupied because if she stopped… if she let her thoughts wander… Well, that knock started to sound rather enticing.

Lena performed regimented checks of her safe haven and its equipment.

Lena had time for reading. For television.

Time for fun science experiments she never had time to progress when the scientist part of her was told to give way to the business woman part.

Time for exercise; soft curves hardening to muscles as she threw around equipment and worked tirelessly and rigorously.

Set meals.

Set bedtime.

Set wake-up.

Day after day passed by in this fashion. Weeks. Months.

Two years in her concrete bunker became three, became five… and before Lena really knew it… she was rapidly approaching a decade in this prison of monotony.

***

It had started with an innocuous ‘beep’.

A fucking beep foretold the destruction of Earth - Lena prayed that humanity, when they re-told the story of the fall of their first home, would ignore that particular aspect of the tale.

It had all started out as a minor reading on a random L-Corp machine tucked away at the back of Lena's lab. (It had been the beginning of yet another half-formed experiment by an idealistic Lena when she thought that being in charge meant she could spend time on her own projects. How utterly naive she had been.)

Lena had taken it over to the DEO where she and Brainy looked over it together for a weekend - mostly because Lena had nothing better to do, what with her friendships being more or less non-existent since her near defection back to the Luthors and despite her subsequent assistance in bringing down Lex. 

Lena assumed it was an atypical reading, a presumption that had been reinforced by Brainy with knowledge of the future. Because if this erroneous result was in fact true and accurate then… the Sun clearly had it in for the Earth. 

It was heating and expanding at a ridiculous rate. A rate which would make the Earth uninhabitable in a mere handful of years, the heat and radioactivity increasing to such a level that it would be like living in an overpowered microwave.

So, the result had to be wrong because as far as Brainy was aware the Earth was very much still standing a thousand years down the line. 

It took a month, with nearly all of L-Corp's resources working on it to find out that, as it turns out, the future can change.

Which was great news for those strongly in favour of free will and heavily against predetermination. Less great news for those that had recently got a mortgage for a new house…

It was full go then.

The next two years were some of the worst and best of Lena's life.

The sun's sudden failure was a parting gift from the Daxamites, who were big believers in ‘if I can't have it, you can't have it either’. Lena assumed Lex would appreciate the pettiness of the action.

The first six months had been filled with hope and a fervour to fix it. Solve the problem like the Superfriends had so many others before. Kara was their guiding light, tirelessly chasing down every lead, ready to get whatever Lena, Brainy and the whole cohort of scientists required at a moment's notice.

Lena, however, wasn't hopeful. She wasn't an optimist. Not anymore at least. Maybe once, when she was young and her mother was there to chase away the monsters under the bed and lift her into the air when the sun was at its warmest. 

She had been hurt, though. Lied to and betrayed far too much to have faith in some intangible and, as of yet, unknown success. She was a Luthor. Raised to be resourceful, stubborn and with a tendency to doubt. 

So, whilst her team of great minds slept, Lena would stay awake an extra couple of hours and plan and prepare for the worst. Because you never know when 'just in case' would be the only option left.

Lena and Kara's friendship over that six months steadily rebuilt.

It rebuilt over peace offering coffees brought to Lena's side by fidgeting fingers, “You look like you need it.”

“You didn’t have to.” Lena would always remind, not wanting there to be an obligation, not wanting Kara to be there unless she wanted to be.

“I know… I wanted to…” Would always be murmured back, soft and sincere, a rope cast out in the darkness.

 It was rebuilt by softly spoken encouragement when either flagged. 

“What use am I? It’s not like I can punch the sun better.” Kara huffed on days when she was left to pace without direction waiting for the next task, the next lead, the next… whatever...

“No, but I know that you would if you could.” Lena would reply, earning her a small upwards tick to Kara’s lips that made Lena’s heart flutter with something other than a constant state of anxiety. “You are more than just your powers, Kara. Far more.” Lena would whisper earnestly, and Kara would simply rest her head on Lena’s shoulder.

It was rebuilt by fingers gently interlacing to offer comfort, “We’ll find something.”

“Together?”

“How else? A Super and Luthor are unstoppable, didn’t you know?”

 It was rebuilt by Kara sharing her fears of losing yet another home and Lena listening, “I don’t know if I can take another loss like this.”

“I know, I can’t even begin to understand what you must be going through, but it's not going to be the same as last time, you know?” Lena would murmur, soft and hesitant, afraid of stepping wrong, afraid of treading on Kara’s open wounds that she had never known were there before. “If it does happen…” Lena would tack on (always if, never when) in those first few months. “You won’t lose everything. I won’t let you. Everyone that can be saved, will be.”

“Is it bad that I don’t… I can live with a few losses… I can, but there are some… Some that matter more...” Kara confessed haltingly, blue eyes wide and scared as if she was revealing something she wasn’t sure Lena was ready to hear yet.

“No, there’s nothing bad about that. At least,” Lena murmured, ducking her head as she curled her fingers tighter around Kara’s, her thumb rubbing back and forth over knuckles, “I don’t think of myself as a bad person for it.”

“You’re not.” Kara would insist, finally covering over the hurt of ‘villain’ once and for all.

It was rebuilt in Kara carrying Lena to her cot in the backroom of the labs whenever she found her slumped over her keyboard in the early hours of the morning. 

“Hmm…” Lena would sleepily hum as she felt herself being cradled in Kara’s arms who never used super-speed when she was carrying her anymore, something Lena was grateful for as it gave her precious extra seconds of being safely ensconced by everything Kara.

“Sleep, Lena, just sleep.” Kara would mutter tenderly, lowering her onto the blankets and pressing an almost imperceptible kiss to Lena’s forehead which guaranteed Lena pleasant dreams.

It was rebuilt on tragedy and hope. It was rebuilt on optimism and pessimism. It was rebuilt by two people who just wanted to save each other in whatever way they could.

***

After six months, it was known. It was known that there was no Hail Mary that could undo what had happened.

Now, it was just about survival… and, for some unfathomable reason, everyone was looking at Lena to ensure that.

“Me! Kara, they’re looking at me to… to… save them!” Lena yelled incredulously once she had returned to the sanctuary of her lab and it was just the two of them (as it often was now).

“Yeah… they are…” Kara replied with a shrug like it was obvious and understandable.

“Me! A Luthor!”

“No. Not a Luthor.” Kara declared firmly, lifting her chin in that way that always made Lena’s knees just that little bit weak. “Lena. The woman that has saved this planet and its people time and time again. A woman who has proven herself selfless and a hero in every way possible. The person that I…” Kara swallowed thickly and in that moment, Lena couldn’t breath, couldn’t move, couldn’t even think. Kara stepped towards her, strong and confident, reaching out to take Lena’s hands in her own, squeezing them tightly as earnest blue eyes stared deep into lost green. “Lena Luthor, you are my hero and I am always looking to you to save me.”

Lena finally inhaled a shuddering breath, nodded her head once and got to work.

The first step was the underground bunkers that would provide shelter for humanity whilst a more long term solution was achieved. The bunkers were not designed to be aesthetically pleasing or even remotely homely. They were functional, quick to put in place and hopefully temporary (which they would be for all but one).

Whilst the bunkers were built, Lena and her team were given two momentous undertakings that were critical for humanity’s continued existence:

Find a suitable new planet to call home.

Figure out how to get the entire population of Earth there as quickly as possible.

Lena hated the second six months of those two years. Kara was barely around, constantly buried under miles of earth, supporting the construction teams in their work, her help was crucial as having someone who could manoeuvre large weights delicately removed the overheads of large pieces of equipment and the time they would take to get in position and slowly carry out the task. When Kara ever did manage to poke her head above sea level, she was off to far flung places trying to minimise the impact of whatever natural disaster was occurring due to the Sun’s interest in making Earth a holiday destination for lava monsters in the near future.

Kara only ever made it back to National City for the occasional weekend once a month. A weekend that she mostly spent sleeping after having pushed herself past the point of exhaustion. 

Kara had taken to sleeping in Lena's cot whenever she was back, holding Lena close instinctively whenever the former CEO managed to collapse beside her after her own ridiculously long days. 

“You know, you have a far more comfortable bed at home? With proper sheets and pillows and blankets and all those really good things that are conducive to sleep…” Lena drawled as she slipped off her heels and sat on the edge of the cot that was already filled with a dozing superhero.

“I could say the same thing to you.” Kara yawned in return, shuffling to the edge of the single-person cot to leave a reasonable gap for Lena.

“Yeah, but…” Lena began to argue, biting her lip; Kara was out there everyday pushing her body beyond its limits in places with little sun, little hope and little in the way of comfort. And when she was granted a few hours of reprieve, just a few measly hours to rest before she was pulled back under, she spent it in a darkened back-room of a laboratory.

“No buts.” Kara cut in, tugging at Lena’s sleeve to pull her down into the empty space and open arms. “I’m here because…” Kara murmured, nuzzling her nose against Lena’s forehead whilst kindly ignoring Lena’s pounding heart, “Because I want to be here.”

“I want you here too.” Lena would eventually reply once her heart had returned to a normal beat and she was sure Kara had fallen into a deep slumber. 

(The Superfriends talked about Kara never returning home and choosing to be wherever Lena was amongst themselves, but they never brought it up with either woman, presumably out of respect or simply being too busy with the impending end of the world).

During that time, Lena was under more stress than she had ever been in her entire life.  A whole planet on her shoulders and she was being crushed under the weight of it all. 

On the plus side, it was the longest anyone had ever gone without spitting her last name out with disgust. It was difficult to damn the person working tirelessly to save you. Not that there weren't some that tried to call her saviour and devil in the same breath, but the Superfriends, who had become her friends again, would put a stop to it before they ever got to the second part of their sentence.

Lena knew that Kara had asked them to look after her whilst she was away. And she appreciated the thought more than she appreciated the actual looking after. Alex had taken to looming over her shoulder like a bodyguard and frog marching her to the canteen at set times to eat three meals a day. Nia, meanwhile, insisted that Lena walk up and down the white-washed corridors of the laboratory at least twice a day to ensure she exercised. 

She grew to love them all: Brainy who was constantly by her side, Alex who was holding her up when she nearly collapsed from exhaustion and Nia who always managed to remind her of the small things she was fighting to save when she got lost in the big picture. She loved them but every time they pulled her away from her work, Lena would hear a voice in her head whispering an ominous countdown.

***

One year post-world-ending-beep, and humanity was tucked away in its new home - the bunkers underground.

Lena and Brainy had finally found a promising planet that they could call home, code-named Goldilocks until an actual name was selected when they finally stepped foot on it (it felt weird officially naming something that they had never seen or experienced). Now, they just had to get everyone there and Lena doubted that there was an intergalactic moving service - maybe that could be her new business venture after her secondment as humanity’s supposed saviour was complete.

 Their best option was the transmat portals (mark two) that she somehow needed to make so that they didn’t require a corresponding portal on the other side. Their idea was more of a wormhole or slingshot, that flung them across the galaxy. They had transports that they could load people up in, they now just needed to create the ‘road’ or ‘shortcut’.

Lena spent day after endless day with Brainy in contact with Earth’s greatest physicists trying to solve problems and reconcile theories that would probably have taken centuries to solve, but mother was the necessity of invention. And dear god, did they need this invention.

The pressure was destroying Lena and more importantly it was creating a gulf between her and Kara that they had so pain-stakingly worked to remove over the last year.

“Lena, you need to eat.” Kara pleaded, her fingers making only fleeting contact with Lena’s elbow, the last time she had made contact Lena had flinched which had hurt Kara in a way that no physical attack ever could.

“I’ll eat later.” Lena replied sharply, her eyes remaining fixed on the board in front of her.

“Come on, Lena. Everyone else has taken a break.” Kara murmured, gesturing to the empty room and the blank computer screens.

“I’m not like everyone else.” Lena responded absent-mindedly.

“I know, I know…” Kara soothed, fingers twitching with the obvious desire to pull Lena into her arms. 

It had been weeks since Lena had been in Kara’s arms but Lena knew… knew that if she sunk into Kara’s embrace, she would crack open and she didn’t know if she would be strong enough to put herself back together again.

“Just, I’m here… for you… always.” Kara promised with a sad and lost tone of voice that made Lena’s throat tight and scratchy.

***

The Children of Earth were the single most irritating thing about the end of the world, and Lena knew that was saying something.

They were also the people that saw Lena’s near year long record without an assassination attempt as a challenge. 

They were a fanatical group that believed if the Earth was ending, the human race should too. That was pretty much it. Considering the rather bleak sales pitch, Lena was impressed by how many people they convinced to eagerly join up. 

Unsurprisingly, Lena was the number one target on their (s)hit list - what with being the main person working on getting them all off planet. Kara, took to being by her side almost constantly, an ever present shadow to the youngest Luthor; dark, steely blue eyes and a harsh frown on the world’s celebrated heroine made even the most committed of assassins think twice.

Kara’s shift to bodyguard came after the very first attempt on Lena’s life.

Lena was at her desk in her laboratory, making changes to an algorithm in the dead of night, the rest of her team retreating to their beds for a few hours whilst they could. It was Lena’s shaky hands that saved her life (exhaustion, stress and a near constant caffeine overdose had produced tremors in Lena’s long fingers that Kara couldn’t bear to look at anymore), Shaky hands reaching for a mug of cold coffee. Shaky hands so tired they couldn’t summon up the strength to hold it steady. The porcelain slipping through her fingers and rushing downwards to smash onto the floor. 

Lena instinctively scrambled after it, pitching herself awkwardly downwards and to the side,

It was this that saved her.

Ensured the bullet aimed for the centre of her back actually hit her shoulder.

It was the sharp inhale of pain and whisper of Kara’s name as she fell off her stool that saved her.

Because Kara was always listening out for her. On hand and ready the second Lena needed her. 

Lena didn’t hit the floor. Didn’t smash into the ground like her coffee mug.

Warm arms were around her before she even got close.

“You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.” Was whispered endlessly on repeat as she was carefully transported to the medbay where Alex and Eliza (quickly roused from sleep by a terrified superhero) got to work. Lena didn’t ask about the assassin, she knew she was safe with Kara watching over her and the Danvers so tenderly cleaning out her wound and that was all that really mattered. She didn’t have any space left in her mind to think of anything else, so overwhelmed with all the problems she had been asked to solve. There was no processing power left to confront other unknown questions.

Kara didn’t leave her side from then on. Not that Lena would let her. Not that night.

Their hands were clasped tightly together and would stay that way even when it inconvenienced the two doctors, who were wise enough not to raise it as an issue.

Lena’s wound was dressed efficiently and in such a way as to minimise scarring, Eliza and Alex returned to bed as they moved away from early morning, and the leaders of the survivors underground were made aware of the threat against their chief scientist. If Kara, as Supergirl, hadn’t insisted on serving personally as Lena’s protector, Lena was pretty sure the leaders would have demanded it, having grown equally fond of and dependent on the youngest Luthor.

When it was just them… just Kara and Lena… that’s when Lena let the tears fall and the sobs wrack her body. She was cradled carefully in Kara’s arms in an instant and everything she had been holding back burst out of her in an unending stream.

It was cathartic, letting it all out whilst Kara just held her and listened and whispered words of reassurance and affection.

The gulf that had formed, disappeared in an instant as Lena buried her head into the crook of Kara’s neck murmuring apology after apology for keeping her out, for putting distance between them, for not being good enough, for not saving Kara’s second home. 

Kara listened, rejecting every single apology with a firm voice and understanding blue eyes.

“Don’t push me away again.” Was all Kara asked for.

“Never. Never again.” Lena promised, not knowing at the time how she would be forced to break that promise less than a year from now.

***

The looks and hints and flirts and teases started in earnest then - they had always been there but boyfriends, secrets, distrust, confusion and hurt had blanketed it and kept it from growing. Now, it was just them and the end of the world.

Their days were spent together, Lena trying to save the world and Kara just trying to save Lena.

“You know I was a prodigy back on Krypton…” Kara revealed her past quietly as she was oft to do when the lab was empty and the bunker was blessedly quiet.

“In writing?” Lena asked, abandoning her work to give Kara her full attention - Kara was the only thing, especially when she was like this (soft, vulnerable and eyes aching with the loss of one home) that could make Lena turn away from the screaming voices inside her head.

“No…” Kara laughed lightly, “I was to be the youngest to join the science guild.” 

“Really?” Lena murmured in disbelief.

“Hmm…” Kara hummed, her mouth quirking up at the edges; Lena’s eyes dipped down to stare at the movement as they had begun to do with increasing frequency.

“Then why…” Lena began curiously wondering why Kara would turn away from something she had been preparing for and so obviously excelling at.

“Because, on Krypton…” Kara reached out with tentative fingers and pushed a dark lock of hair behind Lena’s ear. “We didn’t have people like you. People who worked on the ‘just in case’. People who spoke up. People who… thought everyone should be trusted with the truth. People who thought everyone deserved to be saved, not just the select few.” 

Lena grabbed Kara’s hand and brought it to her lips, pressing a comforting kiss to its palm as Kara revealed her scars to her. 

“I didn’t see science the same.” Kara confessed, her gaze turning far-away and distant as she took in the scribbles on the white-board like she recognised the odd syllable of a language she hadn’t spoken in years. “Science was elitist. Science led to hubris. Science failed to save us. But it was the lies that damned us in the first place. So… when I had the chance to start again…” She trailed off, expression melancholic and wistful.

“Thank you for telling me that.” Lena whispered sincerely, once it was clear Kara had nothing left to say.

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” Kara chuckled dark and pained in a way that made Lena’s heart crack across the surface.

“What is?” Lena prompted, squeezing Kara’s hand tightly in the hopes of grounding her.

“If I had been a journalist on Krypton, I could have made a difference. And if I was a scientist here, I could have made a difference.” Kara said, her smile a dark and broken thing that looked just wrong on her face.

“You make a difference, Kara. Every day. Just by being you.” Lena declared, green eyes sharp and jaw clenched determinedly.

The twisted smile receded back to something soft and adoring. “Maybe for the next one I’ll switch back to science, I mean how long do you think it would take me to get upto speed?” Kara questioned teasingly jerking a thumb at the board covered in excessive equations.

Lena let go of the heavy moment, though she wanted to reinforce to Kara that she was perfect just the way she was. But there would be other moments, other conversations, other secrets shared, other wounds tended…

“Depends on your teacher. With me there to help, I could make you an expert within a decade.” Lena asserted with a confident wink.

Kara’s gaze narrowed, a smouldering smirk slowly appearing as the kryptonian leaned into Lena’s space, “Is that so? Professor?”

Lena gulped.

***

It was a known yet unspoken thing between them.

They spoke around it, danced right up to it, fogged up the glass with eager breaths and pressed against the membrane with curious fingers. Lena knew Kara felt it, in the same way Kara knew Lena felt it. Though, both were too fearful to define it, to say how deep it ran, how much it meant to either of them. 

It was ambiguous in its immensity, not in its existence.

Whenever they brushed up against it, and came close to breaking that barely visible wall between them, they were pulled back with murmurs of ‘soon’ and ‘almost’...

They were both too dutiful, too dedicated to the task at hand to leave room for much else. And they both didn’t want to start when they couldn’t commit all of themselves to each other. Wanted their chance to have the highest probability for success that it could. Because that's what they both deserved.

“The first sunset.” Kara murmured when they were cuddled up together on Lena’s cot in the small room put aside for the chief scientist at the back of the lab in the bunker. “Me, you and a picnic under the very first sunset.”

“Sounds romantic.” Lena teased, rubbing her cold nose against Kara’s clavicle.

“I’ve got it all planned.” Kara admitted honestly. “Every last detail.”

“You’ve really thought about this…” Lena said in awe, pulling back to look down into soft blue eyes.

“It’s all I think about…” Kara replied, her fingers stroking up and down Lena’s back - Lena wished those clever, clever fingers would sneak under her sleep shirt and run along her bare skin.

“Soon.” Lena exhaled their now common commitment.

“Soon.” Kara echoed.

***

The transmat portals were nearly done. Ahead of schedule which was probably a first for any project, yet alone one on such a large scale.

The only problem was the energy source. It was… rather unstable and the amount of energy required to power all the portals at the same time was substantial. To ensure the tentative peace between all leaders and those involved, an agreement was made that all the portals would activate at the same time and humanity would pass through in one go to ensure that there was no group given an advantage.

Lena understood the political reasoning but it was an engineering nightmare.

They were working on putting power stabilisers on the portals to limit the impact of unwanted surges, when the Children of Earth made their play.

Coordinated explosions that threatened the sanctity of the bunkers moved the scheduled departure date up and prompted a mass evacuation. Kara didn’t want to leave Lena’s side but the people needed their Supergirl and it wasn’t fair for Kara to stay by Lena’s side when she was far from the fighting and others needed her to be their shield. Kara left her side with a promise of, “Soon, we’ll get our sunset.”

Lena had prepped the transmat portals from the command centre, monitoring the power levels with a wary eye as the bunker shook with the ferocity of the fighting. Lena watched over transport after transport, making changes as required to keep the power stable. As the numbers of those left to go through began to dwindle, Lena sent her team of loyal scientists led by Brainy (who she had to order to leave) on their way, leaving one transport for her and the soldiers holding off the Children of Earth. 

Lena struggled, as time ticked ever onwards, to keep the power surges under control and the transmat portal open. With the energy already expended, Lena knew if it closed… it wouldn’t be possible to open it ever again.

The soldiers led by Alex and Nia appeared following a large explosion that completely caved in an entire section of the (thankfully, now empty) civilian barracks. Held up by Alex and Nia was Kara, bloodied and bruised, skin a sickly green as her eyes fluttered weakly and her mouth moved trying to form words, fighting desperately to remain conscious. A battle she lost a second after catching a glimpse of Lena hurrying towards them.

They made their way as a group (Lena and those that had taken the pivotal last stand) to the transport when the evacuation alarm was joined by a clinically detached voice calling out, “Power Level Critical.”

The transmat portal flickered before brightening and then dimming almost immediately. The power surges threatening the very integrity of the portal.

“Lena, we have to go now!” Alex shouted, jerking her head towards the last transport that her group of soldiers were already piling into when she saw Lena freeze mid-step.

Lena doesn’t remember making the decision. It was just instinct. She could work out the variables, could see the solution and just… acted. It didn’t require actual thought.

There was the portal that wasn’t safe for a transport to go through unless someone was making the necessary adjustments to the power in the command centre.

There was Kara, hurt and beaten but still so alive and so beautiful and without a doubt the love of Lena’s life.

It was never a choice, so how could Lena have made a decision.

“No, you have to go. I need to keep the power levels under control. You won’t make it, otherwise.” Lena said, her voice eerily calm and collected for what she was about to do.

The looks of absolute, sheer horror that appeared on Alex and Nia’s faces as understanding dawned would stay with Lena forever. It was the moment she realised she was making a sacrifice and not just carrying out a simply logical action.

“No, Lena…” Alex gasped, her brown eyes turning watery as she hefted Kara higher as if.. As if she was trying to shake Kara awake so that she could bear witness to what was happening. 

“There’s no other way.” Lena declared, striding forward to cup Kara’s perfect face in her hands before leaning down to press a soft, farewell kiss to Kara’s cheek. “I was really looking forward to that sunset.” Lena whispered quietly.

Lena took one second to memorise that light vanilla scent that she would always associate with Kara before letting go of the kryptonian and looking to the distraught sister, “Keep her safe.” Lena requested simply, “And…” Lena swallowed thickly, “Tell her to be happy. Just happy.”

And with those final words, Lena sprinted back to the command centre, yelling for Alex to “Go!”

It was a close thing in the end. The power surges were seconds away from blowing the portal, and the bunker along with it, to smithereens when the transport finally zoomed safely through to humanity’s new home. Lena cut off the power just in time to limit the extent of the explosion that followed. The portal blasted apart but it didn’t have enough oomph to rip through the bunker.

It did knock out the lights, though, leaving Lena in absolute darkness for the first week of her new existence as the last human on Earth.

***

Okay, so Lena needed to admit to something… just a small thing… it was just, she knew it made her sound… you know… not really all there…

She had a dog.

A… uh… robot dog… that she had built for herself for company…

And, you know, Tom Hanks had a volleyball so, in comparison to that Milo seemed far more… sane…

(Don’t worry she had resisted the urge to call it K-9 and she had made it far more mobile and life-like than the rather square Doctor Who companion).

His name was Milo, after the main character from Atlantis, one of Kara’s favourite films. He was sleek, more grey-hound shaped than terrier, but moved rather clunkily. He had a tendency to trip when going up or down staircase B5-1 since that particular set of stairs were a little steeper than the others in the bunker and Lena had forgotten to factor that in when she created him. Now, she found the little stumble he made on those steps gave him character, made him seem even more alive than the adaptive AI that operated him so she never bothered to fix it.

Lena resisted the urge to give Milo a voice, since a robotic voice coming from her robo-canine companion kind of ruined the image that she had of Milo being a real dog but she couldn’t stand the silence anymore, couldn’t stand only hearing her own voice.

That was the other thing… after a year she’d started narrating for lack of a better word. Commenting on her work, speaking her thoughts aloud rather than keeping them inside her head. Partly to add some sound to her quiet life and partly (but mostly) to remind herself she was still here, still had a voice. 

If a tree fell in the forest would it still make a sound?

Did Lena still exist if no one was around to see or hear her?

In year four of her solitary existence, the narration became full-on conversations with herself which eventually prompted her to create Milo after she realised that she had gone to bed two consecutive nights in a row angry at something she had said to herself.

Milo spoke to her in song.

“You’ll always be here to keep me company, right Milo?” Lena would ask after crying over The Notebook.

“I’m never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and desert you.” Milo would blast at her through the speaker in his mouth alongside a friendly wag of his tail.

Lena was working on a beam with a crack in it, bending her head down to check on Milo who was looking up at her through green LED lights. “Did I get it all?” She called down.

“Higher, higher and higher. I said your love…” Milo directed, his LED eyes emitting a beam of light to point out a spot above Lena’s head.

He was a good dog overall, though he definitely had a preference for 80s classics much to Lena’s equal amusement and chagrin.

***

She tried not to think of Kara. But it happened.

The longest she had gone, not including sleep (though most of her dreams involved her blonde best friend so it wouldn’t have helped her average anyway), was three and half hours. An event which occurred during her drunken month in year two; she had grown irrationally angry at the transmat portal and had taken a crow-bar and smashed up the remains of the structure whilst listening to screaming death metal music.

She knew Kara would mourn her, miss her at least for the first year. But Lena knew she would keep herself busy. That there would be near endless tasks to occupy her mind and distract her heart and that whenever there was a lull or a break, the Superfriends led by Alex would be there to soothe whatever pain may surface.

Hopefully, by the second year Kara would be able to think of her and it be a joyful experience rather than one of pain. She knew Kara would still think of her often even one year removed from their separation (loss). Knew she had been significant enough to Kara to leave a wake behind.

By the third year, Kara would be ready - Lena didn’t doubt - to open her heart to another, to find someone else to fill the spaces Lena fleetingly occupied. There would be plenty ready and waiting, many probably far more deserving than Lena. 

Kara would find someone else to share that sunset with.

Years four to six, Lena hoped Kara would be rediscovering her passions, that her new home would be stable enough that Kara could get back to the things that made her happy. Lena hoped Kara was still writing, still turning her hand to paper and creating wonderful prose.

Years six onwards… Lena imagined Kara with a family of her own. The image would shift and change but there were always two children underfoot that Kara adored and both of which had inherited Kara’s blue eyes and pure heart. The other person in the picture was blank-faced, their features undetermined. Male or female, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was they put the brightest smile on Kara’s face possible.

“Just be happy.” Lena would whisper her plea out to the universe last thing at night and first thing in the morning. Because, if she said it enough, willed it enough then there was a chance she could make it true. Make the picture in her head of Kara real just by wishing it hard enough.

***

It was the start of her ninth year - Lena kept track by way of scratching into the walls a tally since it pleased her to think she was leaving some indelible mark on this place even if no one else would ever see it - and the knock was starting to become just that little bit more enticing. Lena had started to find herself walking up to the large blast doors and just… staring at them for hours on end.

It was only Milo that was keeping her going by this stage, blasting out, “Don’t you forget about me”, and “Oh, won’t you stay with me? ‘Cause you’re all I need”, whenever Lena’s fingers so much as twitched towards the manual override button.

Lena didn’t think too deeply about how her only reason for carrying on was the potential guilt that came with breaking the heart of a robot dog. 

“Spread it like peanut butter jelly...”

“Whilst I appreciate that you found the perfect song for my current actions”, Lena chuckled, casting an amused glance over her shoulder at her companion, whilst she spread the peanut butter over the plastic-like bread that had been made to last decades, “I don’t think you realise what that song is really about…”

Milo’s head tilted to the side at the words - Lena had designed him so that when he was processing new information or analysing anything he would tilt his head to the side like a real dog. 

“Oops!... I did it again…” Milo proclaimed, dropping to the ground with an embarrassed shake of his metal head.

“You’re still my best boy, don’t worry.” Lena reassured, finishing off preparing her lunch and making her way to the little living space she had made herself, a rather ratty red sofa and television screen had been added to the small room behind her lab that she had made her own. She had just sat down and was about to take a bite of her sandwich when-

Bzzzztttt…

That was new. 

The buzzing sound was so loud and clear that it felt like the entire bunker was vibrating with it. Lena was on her feet in an instant, Milo by her side, as she grabbed her tablet and went towards the source of the sound. As soon as the sound had begun, though, it decreased in volume to a mere hum. Outside Lena’s lab, in the long corridor covered in tally marks was a bright purple circle with blue streaks of light hovering below the ceiling. Beneath the light in a crumpled mass was a figure dressed in dark blue and crimson red with a silver cable connected to their centre which disappeared back up into the portal.

“Okay, I got the angle slightly wrong… Yep, face planted…”, The intruder groaned as they pushed themselves up to reveal a mess of hair. “I know, I can fly but I wasn’t thinking about flying and didn’t react in time… and-” The figure struggled to their knees and shifted round, finally catching sight of Lena who was simply standing there, mouth agape, leaning on Milo to keep her upright.

Kara.

It was in that moment that Lena saw a shade of blue she had been deprived of for over nine years. Kara’s eye colour, though, was possibly the only thing about her that hadn’t changed. 

Familiar golden curls had been cut away to be replaced by slightly darker blonde with the odd streaks of silver that only just grazed a jawline Lena’s fingers had traced countless times. Also gone was Kara’s defined and overly muscular body, she looked thinner… almost gaunt. Her cheeks hollower than they had ever been before. The crinkles around her eyes were nowhere near as deep as Lena had imagined them to be whenever she thought of Kara with her family. There were instead, however, lines around her mouth that implied she frowned more than smiled and that… that cracked whatever fragile grasp of reality Lena had left completely apart.

Because of this - Lena no longer trusting her eyes, unable to accept an existence where Kara hadn’t been happy, as Lena had begged the universe to make happen everyday - she didn’t truly see the expression on Kara’s face.

She didn’t see the sheer joy, the tears of elation, the broken smile that couldn’t smile as wide as it wanted due to being so out of practice.

“You’re here… You’re really here…” Kara breathed out, her blue eyes drinking in the sight of Lena shifting shyly from foot to foot as she stroked the smooth metal surface of Milo for comfort. 

“Kara.” Lena murmured, testing the word out in her mouth, trying to see if she still knew how to say it after all these years.

“Lena, you’re here…” Kara whispered totally awestruck, getting to her feet and taking slow, careful steps towards Lena, her fingers reaching out for the raven-haired woman.

“I don’t under-... this isn’t real… you’re not real… you can’t be real…” Lena stammered, shuffling backwards away from the ghost in front of her, unaware of the gasp of pain that it caused. “Did I answer the knock? Is this a dream? Milo analyse the surroundings and conditions.” Lena ordered, dropping her gaze to her tablet as she tapped frantically against the screen, mumbling her every thought out loud as she had become prone to do over the years. “Hallucination, most likely… potential causes… sleep deprivation? Unlikely, I have a set sleep schedule. Radioactivity has finally penetrated the bunker and has caused a multitude of health problems. Possible, though I take regular readings of-”

“Lena! Please, stop…” Kara cried, collapsing to her knees in front of Lena, tears streaming down her face. “I’m here, okay? I’m really here!”

“No! No!” Lena shouted in return, “This isn’t real! Because… because…” Lena’s breaths came out sharp and panicky as she was overwhelmed by a tempest of emotions she had worked so, so, so hard to deaden herself to over the last nine years. “You’re meant to be married! You’re meant to be happy! You’re not meant to be here…”

Fingers curled delicately around Lena’s biceps; she wasn’t even aware that she had fallen to her knees as well, that she had brought her hands up to cover her face.

The touch and its sheer gentleness almost made Lena jerk away but the barely there scent of vanilla instinctively made her lean forward instead, her head moving to rest as it always used to do on Kara’s reliable shoulder.

“Lena, how could I be happy without you?” Kara whispered, her fingers moving ever so carefully from Lena’s biceps, round to her back… so tenderly wrapping Lena up in her arms. “Let me take you home, please, please Lena… let me take you away from here, please…” Kara begged, pressing featherlight lips against Lena’s forehead. “Let’s go see that sunset, yeah?”

Lena pulled away so that her hands could move to cup Kara’s beautiful, anguished face, thumbs wiping away the endless tears, “You still want to? Even after all this time?”

“It’s all I’ve thought about.” Kara confessed, a breathtaking smile overtaking her face… and that… that one smile made it all worth it… made nine years in darkness… nine years alone all worth it. 

Lena loved how that smile stretched under her palms and she wondered how it would feel under her lips; the thought barely even crossed her mind before she started to lean forward to find out, Kara inhaling sharply as she realised what Lena intended, when-

“Sha-la-la-la-la-la, music play, do what the music say, you wanna kiss the girl.” Milo sang out for them, his metal tail thumping happily against the concrete floor, his green LED lights looking between his best friend and this blonde newcomer excitedly.

“Thanks, Milo.” Lena chuckled wetly, glancing over at her robo-dog before looking back to find Kara’s blue eyes sparkling with joy at her. “I have a robot dog, now.” Lena explained needlessly, cheeks turning an embarrassed pink.

“I can see that.” Kara replied with a laugh, her hand reaching out to brush through Lena’s dark hair, as she asked her voice brimming with hope, “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, yeah, I am…” Lena admitted with a fervent nod of her head before pressing a delicate kiss to Kara’s cheek. “I want to see that sunset.”

[sopewriters]

Mιɳԃ Gαɱҽʂ | 01

Summary: With a murderer prowling the streets, and a charming villain on the loose, all bets are off.

Pairing: Jaehhyun X Reader; Hero x Villain AU

Word Count: 4.9K

Warning(s): None yet.

“Run the tape again.”

The screen flickers dimly, lighting up your gaunt features. Every part of you screams of exhaustion, as it should – you’ve hardly gotten any sleep all night. Your fingers tap against the desk in front of you, restless, and it takes everything in you not to bounce your leg.

The man beside you – your partner – looks at your tense jaw, pursed lips, and frowns. “You can take a break for tonight, you know. I doubt they’ll come back so soon.”

“But you don’t know that.” You correct harshly, making him recoil. Guilt stabs at you, and you sigh. “Sorry, I… I’m sorry Mark, I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

Mark smiles at you, and you only now notice the pallor of his cheeks, the shadows under his eyes. Your partner hasn’t gotten anymore sleep than you have. With a large, cracking yawn that could probably split a lesser man’s face open, you shake your head.

The protest – or lack, thereof – building on Mark’s lips immediately dies, and he exhales heavily.

“This guy is unreal.” He comments, dropping back into his seat beside you. “How does he avoid the cameras so well? They were even set up so no one would be able to dodge them – is this his Gift, do you think?”

You cast a wry glance at him, then. “No, Mark, we both know for a fact that his Gift isn’t invisibility. Remember the one time he made some sort of illusion to throw the cops off his trail?”

“Ah, right.” Something like awe passes quickly over his face, though he’s careful to school his expression at your chiding glance. “I forgot.”

“Funny, you were gushing about how wicked Joker was for weeks.” You nudge him lightly, a tiny grin on your lips – probably for the first time tonight. “It was cute.”

His cheeks immediately flush – adorable – and you wish there were better lighting so you could see them better.

Unfortunately, being a superpowered vigilante can really cast a wrench in your budget. Not everyone can be a millionaire-cum-superhero, no matter how much they’d love to be. And balancing the criminal nightlife with your actual life… well. University has always been particularly unforgiving.

“______…” He grouses, burying his face in his palms as you laugh. “Why’re you always so mean to me?”

“You just make it really easy.”

“ ______!”

“What? Am I wrong?”

Mark huffs out a breath, pushing away from the desk and standing up to flick on the light. “I’m not even gonna bother. I know you aren’t going to drop it!”

“You’re – oh my fucking god, turn the lights back off!” The measly light you do have is still blinding, making your head almost ache from how bright they are. “Mark!”

“Oh, how the tables have turned.” He laughs, dodging one of your well-timed swipes. “Alright, I’m going to jet before you actually manage to hit me again. Please try and get some rest? We’ll go over this again tomorrow.”

He looks at you imploringly.

You laugh fakely. “Oh, yeah, of course!”

Mark sighs, resigned, and gives you a waning smile as he moves to leave. He pauses, briefly. “We should really find a new HQ.”

You look around at your converted closet, thinking he’s not wrong. But, again, life isn’t quite like the movies and you don’t really have the money to spare on much beyond your daily necessities. Frozen food isn’t quite as cheap as it used to be around these parts. If anything, you’re lucky you have a walk-in closet large enough to accommodate a small desk, especially in your dorm.

Going to an expensive college in a rich part of town does have some benefits even if, tuition aside, you’re financially on your own.

“We’ll see,” you mumble tiredly, head thumping softly against said desk. “You know how tight our budget is.”

“Yeah, I do.” Mark looks apologetic, giving you a quick wave before he’s stepping out, likely heading back to his own room.

Now that he’s gone, though, your place is entirely too quiet, and it really puts you on edge. At least Mark turned the light on, earlier – you might as well credit him for that – so it’s not as creepy as it could be. But still.

You turn back to the monitor, mouth pursing into a frown as you watch the slight flicker of shadows – the criminal’s only trail. Something about this guy doesn’t seem all that right, and it’s seriously making you paranoid. You’ve never interacted with him, though – that, as it seems, only really happens to the licensed superheroes in your sector – but there’s just something about him…

You turn off the monitor with a sigh, wondering why on earth you’ve stupidly chosen to deal with this guy, of all people. You ignore the little niggling in the back of your mind that tells you that you’re really just trying to put off real-life responsibilities by taking unnecessary tasks upon yourself; that’s totally not true, no. What – why would anyone think that?!

You duck your head out of your closet, tentatively stepping out into your actual room. There isn’t much in there; just your bed, a cabinet for your papers and files, and a dresser in which your clothes actually go. Most of the place is just free space, honestly, and you could have your whole hero setup here, but… secrecy is important. And your closet is a lot more private than your room itself, for obvious reasons.

“ ______ !!” The door slams open, and your enraged best friend storms inside.

Case in point.

“Hey, F/N…” You say awkwardly, leaning against your bed so you can look at her fuming face. “Um. Fancy seeing you here?”

“Why aren’t you in bed?” She pinches the bridge of her nose, a frustrated sigh escaping her lips. “It’s almost midnight!”

“Why aren’t you asleep?” You counter, eyes catching onto her mussed hair, puffy eyes. “I was so quiet; how could I possibly have—?”

“Mark.” She says simply, to which you inwardly groan. Of course. Mark “Clumsy” Lee lives up to his name, yet again. “Are you sure you two aren’t dating? He’s been over for whole nights before.”

“What, are girls and guys not allowed to spend the night without dating or screwing around?” You snap defensively. Too defensively, judging by the smirk forming on her face. “No. No, no, no. Whatever bullshit you’re going to spew at me right now, save it, because I sure as hell won’t like it.”

“I’m just saying, denial isn’t just a river in Egypt,” she sings, ducking to narrowly avoid a pillow projectile. “It’s not a big deal! Mark’s super cute.”

“And you can have him.” You mutter in response, shuddering at the thought of dating him. Being in close quarters has really educated you to some of his more… quirky habits, and you couldn’t ever deal with that on a permanent basis. Plus, he’s not really your type.

F/N just rolls her eyes at you. “Whatever, pretend all you want. I know the truth though.”

“Is there something you actually need?” You level her with a flat stare. “Or are you just trying to snoop in on me?”

She smiles guiltily, like the guilty person she is. It might as well be branded on her forehead, G-U-I-L-T-Y, and you really hope she trips over one of her stupid pencils and stumbles down to hell.

What? You can be petty if you want to be, and it’s all in your head anyway. No one will ever know.

“No, there’s nothing important.” She assures you, though you really don’t need her assurance. “I just… worry about you sometimes, you know?”

“Well gee, thanks for making my night a whole lot better with that vote of confidence.” You mutter, sarcastic as ever, though your subsequent words die on your tongue at her sharp look.

“Relax, you know I didn’t mean it like that. I just wanted to know if you were going to go to bed, or if you couldn’t sleep or something.” She shrugs. “I’m being rebellious and staying up past my bedtime.”

Well.

You grin sharply at that. Maybe she can stay in the land of the living for a little longer. You take back everything you thought just a few moments ago. “Oh, have I been waiting for this day.”

So. Staying up last night was possibly the worst decision you’ve ever made. Your eyes feel like they might just pop out of their sockets any moment now and the only thing that could possibly make this better is a good cup of coffee. Or, even better, two.

But life, as always, is cruel.

“I hate you.” You mutter at your coffee pot, squinting angrily at it through stinging eyes. “You had one fucking job.”

Yep. The coffee pot, as fate would have it, has completely broken down – just to deprive you of your life, of course, no big deal. Who even needs to be awake for their 8AM discussion anyway, right?

“Stupid, useless hunk of garbage, I should just melt you down already.” Your fevered death chant follows you all the way to the front door as you sling your backpack over your shoulder. It stops there, though, because you’re too tired to keep it up.

F/N’s lucky she doesn’t have to wake up early today, and you angrily curse her in your head because goodwill? It’s all gone now. Maybe she’ll get a really bad case of the Hiccups. Maybe it’ll be terminal Hiccups.

You cringe at your own deviousness.

You manage to bike all the way to class without perishing which, in your books, deserves a gold star. You don’t know how you’ve done it, but you’ve somehow managed to not get hit by a car, or a bus, or a truck, or another bike, or a pedestrian (though you wouldn’t really mind that last option. People really need to stop looking at their phones while they walk, holy shit). It’s a miracle, truly.

Maybe it’s because you’ve got to attend a Classics discussion; shockingly, it’s one of your more bearable classes. Scratch that, it’s possibly one of your favorites. You might be a STEM major, but the way they discuss mythology in this class really gets to you.

And, of course, there’s your TA too. He’s probably one of the kindest, sweetest people you know – and that’s saying something, given that you know Mark and are even acquainted with Wong Yukhei, the Student Council VP. No, you don’t know how that happened and, frankly, don’t care to find out either.

“Hey there, ______.” You look up at the sound of your name, seeing your TA cock his head at you a little quizzically. “You okay? You seem a little out of breath.”

Yeah, it’s no big, I practically just pulled an all-nighter and biked all the way here using the mothballs that are my eyes, with the level of coffee running through my bloodstream hitting a critical low. It’s fine, it’s totally fine! And if you weren’t the unobservant piece of crap, sweetheart you are, I’d feel a hell of a lot better—

“I’m fine.” You make an effort not to let your gasps for air grow too obvious, giving him a strained smile. “I just, um – just biked here.”

“Ah, I see. You can come inside, you know, sit down.” He holds the door wide open for you, letting you slip inside. “Do you have water? Would you like me to get you some?”

He gives you an appraising look. “Though, something tells me you need something stronger? Coffee, maybe?”

He holds up a thermos, shaking it gently with a questioning look on his face; and, on cue, your mouth begins to water. You need it. You must have it.

“What gave it away?” You chuckle weakly, before shaking your head. “No thanks, Jungwoo, but I appreciate it.”

You last remaining braincells cry, extremely sorry for your loss.

Jungwoo sighs, “I don’t mind sharing, ______, trust me. I promise I didn’t poison it or anything, and I won’t give you much – just a tiny cup.”

He pours some out into the cap of his flask, offering it to you. You stare at the beautifully crafted drink of perfection, steam gently curling off it, and wonder if Kim Jungwoo is a god. He must be, with this sort of impeccable timing.

Still, you’d feel a little awkward taking a drink from a TA that you actually don’t know all that well. That… might not be a good idea.

“I’m really fine.” You smile tightly at him. “I promise. Thank you, though.”

But why?! your brain cells demand, and you don’t have a satisfactory answer for them.

“If you’re sure.” He shrugs it off easily, smile never dimming. He’s pretty cute when he smiles – basically, all the time – but he isn’t really your type.

You think back to the crush you used to harbor on Yukhei. Your cheeks burn when you remember that you still find your gaze fixed to his long, slender fingers on more than one occasion – but you can’t help that. He’s just… too much. It’s unfair, really. But yeah, that’s your type. Tall and handsome, and unfair.

Great, and now you’re thinking about Jung Jaehyun.

You settle back into your desk and will your blush away as you begin pulling out a notebook and a pencil. You don’t usually take notes during section – not unless you’ve got some big essay coming up that he’d review in class – but it gives you something to do instead of just sitting idle.

You quickly sneak a peek at Jungwoo and, seeing that he’s preoccupied leafing through some of his notes, play a game of Catch the Pen. You locate the nearest shadow and guide your pencil through it, propelling it with enough of a velocity for it to hurtle out of another shadow to nestle comfortably between your fingers. It’s basically like playing catch with yourself.

And yeah, it got boring after the third or fourth time, but your only other option is using your phone, which – hey, not a bad idea. A quick scroll through your social media has you holding back your coos when you see videos of cute puppies attempting to do even cuter things. God, do you love dogs.

It’s only when Jungwoo raps his fist against his desk – a cue for all of you to start paying attention – that you notice that the empty desks from before have all been filled up. You quickly stash your phone in your back pocket, before leaning forward on your desk, settling your cheek in the palm of your hand as you force yourself to pay attention.

Ah, damn it. Your eyes still sting.

“Good morning guys!” Jungwoo beams at you, entirely too cheery for your tastes, given that it’s eight in the fucking morning. “How were your weekends?”

Your mind flashes back to your weekend, and you suppress a wince. Yeah. That was… not a good time, especially for the vigilante Caligo – for you. After getting your ass pummeled by a random guy in a mask – a random guy who you think just might be Joker, thief extraordinaire, and the person who you were watching through the footage last night – you weren’t really having a great time.

Not to mention your purpled cheek, courtesy of a deck to the face. You bruise like a peach and you’re really fucking lucky that F/N has a healing ability and a penchant to not ask difficult questions. She probably thinks you’re getting caught up in some shady business – drugs, maybe? – and honestly, that wouldn’t be too far from the truth, if a little exaggerated.

Jungwoo, luckily, takes the grumbled mutterings from the rest of your class that perfectly encapsulate your weekend experience in stride, beaming excitedly and holding up a faded copy of the translation of Ovid’s The Fall of Icarus. “Well, nothing better than this to turn that around, yeah?”

You hold back a sigh as you flip to the page he’ll inevitably bring up. You’d rather read about Icarus, who the book’s title deceptively alludes to, than the rest of these short stories. But, well. As life would have it—

“Let’s talk about what happened with Theseus and the Minotaur, shall we?”

A part of you is grateful that you’ve managed to survive most of your day, and it’s really only the thought of going to your chem lab that makes you perk up.

Now, don’t be misled; you still hate having to go to lab. The actual practice, in itself, isn’t all that hard, but the fact that you have to do it at all is just so ugh. Frankly, you’re only going because it’s required for your major, because fuck chemistry, and doubly fuck organic chemistry. It’s all just way too stressful.

But, well, back to the main point: lab is only really fun because you get a whole two and a half hours to fully appreciate some A+ eye-candy. Not that you would ever actually want to objectify him that way, but your TA is just so gorgeous that it’s unfair, really. Just a smile from him could have you tripping over your feet and potentially spilling dangerous chemicals all over yourself.

As it is, you’ve managed to survive so far, if only to irritate F/N with your very accurate description of how sharp his jawline is, how his dimple is to die for, how he just looks so dependable and warm and—

“Hey Jaehyun.” You greet him as you wait outside the lab. No one’s really allowed in until your TA – Jaehyun, basically – lets you.

Jung Jaehyun, AKA “God who has literally descended from the Heavens to bless your undeserving soul”, smiles at you and – aw, yeah, there it is. That fucking dimple. Paired with his soft, unassuming smile, and the reassuring warmth of his eyes as they look at you through the soft fringe of his hair—

Deadly. That’s what he is.

“Hey ______, how’s it going?” He greets cheerily, not unlike Jungwoo earlier. The only difference is that it’s actually a humane hour of the day right now; a little past noon as opposed to oh, you know, the crack of dawn. You still hate any and all sunlight, no doubt about it – especially with the night lending itself to your element – but at least you’re somewhat awake now.

Jaehyun fiddles with the keyhole before pushing the door open. Is a lab coat supposed to look this good on a person? You aren’t sure.

“It’s pretty meh.” You offer him a shrug and what you hope is not a dorky smile. “Just stressed, you know.”

“Oh, I figured.” He nods, raising an eyebrow. “Apparently Professor Kim’s being super hard on you guys for this first midterm and, I won’t lie, with her past record…” Jaehyun winces. “Yeah, things might be a little stressful. But you’re capable, and I know you can do it with the right amount of hard work and effort.”

Then, like he hasn’t just sprung an unwarranted pep talk on what’s left of your dreary soul, he disappears behind the door. You stare at it like it’ll give you the answers racing through your mind; what the fuck, how the hell does he know exactly what to say, how the fuck is he always so gorgeous…? etcetera, etcetera.

Immediately, you pull out your phone and text F/N.

 You:

Oh my fucking god, I think Jaehyun and I just had a moment

Not like a Moment but he literally just gave me the best pep talk in my life, 5 stars on yelp

Jaehyun’s my TA btw

 Checking the time, you impatiently rock forward on the balls of your feet, biting at your lips. You figure that, maybe, instead of constantly thinking about how gorgeous Jaehyun is, you should probably also start thinking about the experiment for today. It’s just some simple identification tests, thank goodness, but those could take a long time – especially if you have to share your resources with the rest of the class.

Sharing is caring, they say and they’re wrong. Sharing, in most cases, is essentially just shooting yourself in the foot, and you’ll stand by that until the end of time. You used to share everything – even your heart – after all, and where did that get you?

You shove all of that away, filing it into the mental Untouchable cabinet and locking it up. You’re a busy person now, and you can’t waste time delving into the past. For all your bravado and bluster, though, you just… sometimes feel like you always make the worst decisions for yourself and you’re just tired of having to put yourself through the same things again and again. Like – like clockwork.

The door cracks open, and Jaehyun pokes his head outside. “Huh, that’s weird. No one else is here yet?”

A quick glance around you shows you that no, there really isn’t anyone else here yet. What the fuck? You check your phone, though, and see you still have ten minutes before lab actually begins. Ah, yeah, that makes a lot more sense now.

“You can come in anyway.” Jaehyun grins at you charmingly, and you dimly wonder if he knows the effect he has on people, with how easily he throws that smile around. “Maybe get set up? You can’t start before the rest of your class is here, obviously, but you can still be prepared.”

“Of course!” You beam at him, a little shocked at how easy it is to smile at him. With how things have been going, with both your personal life and – ehem – line of work, this is actually nothing short of a miracle.

Jaehyun really is a great guy and you think to yourself, a little sadly, that whoever gets to date him is a really lucky person. It’s not like you expect for life to work out like a fairytale with you as the persevering royal protagonist who gets the prince she’s only ever dreamed of.

Oh, you wish though. Sometimes, you even wish you had the power to make wishes come true instead of the shadow manipulation that comes so easily to you. When you think about it, you immediately discard the thought; you’re happy with your Gift, though it does get a little tricky navigating its faults.

Faults that Joker took advantage of over the weekend, obviously. You seriously screwed that one up though, to be fair, you kind of had to get home pronto to finish up your biology lab report. Still, a screw up is, ultimately, a screw up. It’s not going to change just because you slapped some excuses onto it.

Your fingers spasm, clenching tightly around your lab notebook and digging into its spiral binding as you remember, all too vividly, what happened over the weekend; the way Joker just slid out of your bindings and smirked at you, lips brushing against your ear as he revealed it was all a lie—

The spiking pain in your hand forces you to let go of your book, allowing it to drop onto the table with a muffled thump. It was all your fault, really, for not realizing that, since Joker had a Gift that allowed him to make illusions, he would obviously take advantage of it to distract you.

You were such a fucking idiot.

“Hey.” Your lab partner slides into the seat beside yours, effectively distracting you from thinking about your Weekend Failure some more. “Please tell me that I’m not the only one who thinks that the data for this lab report was ridiculous.”

“You’re not.” A light smile pulls at your lips and you try to forget about everything else. “It was pretty crazy.”

It’s not until you step out of lab a few hours later, blinking the sun out of your eyes, that you see that F/N’s finally responded to your texts.

 Wifey!! <3:

i’m glad he was so kind to you!

and yeah babe, i think you’d realize i know who Jaehyun is by now

you’ve only mentioned him a billion times

you’re such a puppy

You:

He was really nice man, he made me feel like I could actually do this

I mean idk how long it’ll last but it’s nice of him to even try ;-;

And I think you’d realize I know I’m a puppy by now

You’ve only told me, like, a billion times

 Let it be said that you’re never one to let the opportunity to be petty go to waste.

A week later, you’re sprinting up the street between your favorite Thai place and the café F/N likes to frequent, short puffs of breath escaping your lungs into the cold night air. Your worn sneakers slap against the concrete as you try to find a secluded location for you to change covertly into more appropriate ‘crime-fighting’ clothing, when your frantic gaze lands on a relatively abandoned alleyway.

Key word: ‘relatively’, because there’s really only a cat in there, of course.

“Fuck yeah!” You whisper triumphantly under your breath, stepping into the shadows cast by the nightlights, letting their familiar chill wash over you, twist its way around your waist and seep under your skin, a comfortable, cool pressure—

And you’re out again, a couple of blocks ahead of where you started, and sprint up the street, jumping shadows to the second floor of a building, from where you see figure flying overhead.

You smirk. Right on time.

“Hey! Mind giving me a lift?!” You holler up, and with a flick of his wrist, you’re being lifted off your feet, propelled to the very top of the building. A grin pulls at the corner of your mouth, and you give in as you zip along after the figure ahead, who’s dressed in dark blue. “Thanks G!”

Gravitas – Mark – spares a look at you through his mask as he runs ahead, leaping gracefully over to the next building. “Hey Caligo!”

A grin pulls at the corner of your lips through your own mask, fully visible since it only extends to the bridge of your nose. He wants to play it like that, does he?

“Impressive, but you’ve got nothing on me!” You arch in a graceful backflip over the gap between the buildings, landing steadily on your feet.

Mark chuckles lightly at you, shaking his head when you skip ahead of him through the shadows. Like you aren’t going to wring out every advantage your Gift could possibly give you; there’s no way you’re letting him have the satisfaction of possibly being better than you.

“See anyone we need to beat up?” You slow your pace enough for him to run beside you, not needing to shout to be heard.

Mark’s mask covers his entire face, but you’re pretty sure you know the look he’s got on his face right now; that little dip between his eyebrows and the lightest pout on his lips. He’s really too predictable.

“We aren’t looking for people to beat up.” He corrects you. “We’re looking for people to save.”

You come to a stop so you can face him properly, hands settling on your hips. The seriousness of the situation doesn’t stop you from keeping the playfulness from your voice, though, forced as it might sound.

“Now that’s the mind of a future hero-in-the-making.” You shrug, mouth pursing into a tense smile. “The rest of us don’t really care so much about that, you know.”

Mark falters, nearly tripping over himself even though he’s slowed to a walk. “That isn’t what I was trying to imply, you know that.”

“I know.” You provide him with another half-shrug. “I’m just saying that I’m here to beat people up; you can call it saving people or whatever else satisfies your hero-complex but, at the end of the day, someone’s still getting beat.”

No matter how close the two of you are, this is an age old argument that neither of you have been able to shake off; the constant debate of vigilantism versus heroism. At the end of the day, you’re getting the same things done, so why Mark needs to get so prickly about it is beyond you.

He is training to be a hero – which you’ve grudgingly accepted, despite your misgivings – so that might be it. Unlike you, he’s always interested in those caped fantasies, in saving the day and happy endings. Even he has to admit it; Mark is the definition of a happy fool.

And you? Well, that’d make you the tortured genius – though there’s nothing particularly genius about you. Just tortured.

“At the end of the day, we’re still saving people too.” Mark’s voice is low, brittle. “We’ve talked about this before.”

“And we’ve always ended it the same way.” You force yourself to keep your calm, though you itch to blow up at him. “So what makes this time so different?”

Mark starts forward, about to answer, only to be interrupted by a familiar voice. A very unwelcome voice.

“Hope I’m not interrupting!”

There’s a muffled thump, like someone’s landing on their feet, as you slowly turn around, eyes growing wide behind your mask.

Decked out in a tight-fitting leather bodysuit and a black choker, which delicately circles his neck, he looks at you with dancing, mischievous eyes. The black eye mask that sculpts itself to his face prevents you from being able figure out who the man behind the mask is, but that isn’t your priority right now, because you know who this is, standing in front of you with that cheeky grin.

“Joker.”

Written By: Midnight

The amazing moodboard was done by Sangria! Blessed that I am to have such a perfect wife <3

Next: 02

[cha-melodius]

The Definition of Madness Chapter 7 (Finale)

The Definition of Madness Chapter 6

Whumptober No. 29: Emergency Room

Fandom: The Man from UNCLE (2015)

Pairings: Napoleon Solo/Illya Kuryakin, Napoleon Solo & Illya Kuryakin & Gaby Teller

Summary: They say the definition of madness is doing the same thing and expecting a different result.

Or, Illya gets stuck in a very whumpy time loop.

Ao3 Link

And now, the thrilling conclusion! 😆

*****

Previous Chapter

This time, they trick their targets into believing that Napoleon is the one who is resetting the day, and they find themselves in a familiar standoff. Well, familiar to Illya, anyway, except now he’s the one holding the gun at the man in charge while Napoleon is forced to his knees. He hadn’t realized it during the previous loop, but the guards actually bring two doses of the antidote with them and pass one to the man in charge.

It explains why they didn’t just shoot Napoleon before, because clearly their adversary was suspicious enough to not trust that they had the right person until after the antidote had been administered. Once it has been, though, they’ll know they’ve been duped this loop, and there will be nothing stopping them from killing Napoleon.

The man in charge also gets handed another vial of liquid, this one an odd greenish color, with some kind of aerosolizer fitted to the end of it, like an inhaler. It must be the drug itself, the substance that somehow imparts the ability to reset the day, and Illya knows that under no circumstances can he allow it to be deployed.

The guard carrying the antidote approaches Napoleon, syringe at the ready, and the two partners share a meaningful glance. They talked through a few scenerios, but never one in which there were two antidotes in play. Illya isn’t even sure that Napoleon knows there is; after all, he’d missed that fact when he’d been the one forced to the ground.

Illya would really rather not do this day again—would really rather not have to explain this sequence of events to Napoleon again—so he has to make this count.

He waits until every eye in the room is focused on Napoleon, watching for whatever happens when the antidote is administered. Even the man in charge lets his guard down for a moment, a wide grin spreading over his face, and this is when Illya acts.

Lunging forward, he makes a grab for the drug and the antidote, both held in the man’s left hand, but unfortunately the man reacts faster than he expected, twisting away and leaving Illya holding only one of the vials. There is at least a little luck on their side, though, because when he opens his hand he sees the odd green liquid glinting there. The drug.

He doesn’t have much time to think about what to do with it. Napoleon yelps as the guard plunges the antidote syringe into his shoulder and injects, and somehow the man in charge knows immediately that they’ve been duped. He snarls, wheeling on Illya, and leaps at him in a desperate attempt to get the drug back. Two bullets to the chest somehow aren’t enough to bring him down—granted, neither of them were very accurate under the circumstances, even at close range—and he collides heavily with Illya, sending them both sprawling to the floor. The vial is clenched tightly in Illya’s fist, safe from the man’s prying fingers, but Illya loses track of the antidote until a needle jams right into his thigh.

Fire spreads rapidly through his veins and he can feel it leaving his body, knows without a doubt that if he dies this time it will be for good. The pain of it briefly overwhelms his senses, but it ebbs as rapidly as it came on and he’s left reeling and feeling oddly empty.

“Kill him! Kill him now!” the man is shouting desperately, and Illya doesn’t know if he means him, or Napoleon, or both of them.

Turns out, neither do the guards. The ones nearest to them stand there uncertainly, and it probably doesn’t help that the man is on top of Illya and thus blocking most of their shots. Illya can hear the sounds of fighting from somewhere in Napoleon’s direction, so he assumes his partner has taken advantage of the chaos to get free and turn on the guards around him, and this in turn draws the attention of the two guards nearest Illya. They raise their guns toward the other side of the room, and Illya knows he has to end this now.

Finally, he manages to wrench his gun free from where it is pinned under them, jams it against the man’s head, and fires. He pushes the limp form off of his body and scrambles off the ground, dropping both guards with the remaining bullets in his clip. There is still another, farther across the room, still focused on where Napoleon is struggling with the last two guards that had held him. Illya watches as the third guard takes aim when the fight swings around to offer a clear shot of Napoleon. There’s no way Illya will be able to take him down before he fires, and so he does the only thing he can do.

Launching himself across the remaining space, he smashes into Napoleon and the guard, sending them both sprawling to the floor, just as he hears the gun fire twice. The bullets slam into his left shoulder and chest, sending a too-familiar white hot pain lancing through his body, and it almost feels like just another loop except it’s not.

Dying has become old hat, for Illya, but living is an entirely new proposition.

He slumps toward the ground, distantly hearing the sounds of fighting and bullets firing around him again until finally those seem to fade away. The vial of the drug slips from his hand, clattering to the floor and rolling off under a table.

Pain stabs through him again as someone—Napoleon, it must be—presses on his wounds, but the world around him is rapidly fading.

“Fuck! No no no, Illya, you idiot—”

*****

Illya has flashes of something like lucidity.

The heat of an explosion. A spike of pain as he’s lowered to the ground. Bright lights and frantic voices. A warm, solid mass pressed against his side.

He’s not sure if they’re real, dreams, or something else entirely.

*****

He wakes, for the first time in over a month, in a different bed.

At first the world seems like it’s nothing but white light, and he thinks maybe he’s finally actually dead, but then the walls and ceiling materialize around him. The air is filled with the soft hums and steady beeps of medical equipment, and the scent of antiseptic and bleach. A hospital, he thinks distantly.

Illya tries to push himself up in the bed, but that quickly proves to be a terrible idea. He hisses as pain sears through the left side of his chest, and the abortive movement sets several of the machines to a far more rapid beeping. Hurried footsteps echo into the room, and for a few minutes he just sits there as skilled hands fuss over the IV lines and his bandages. One of the nurses must administer some morphine, because a moment later the pain begins to ebb.

When he finally opens his eyes again, there is a familiar face standing at the foot of his bed.

“You do know you’re not actually immortal, right?” Gaby scolds him, but the fond, relieved expression on her face takes all of the weight out of it.

“Was never immortal,” Illya mutters, crossing his arms in front of him defensively.

“Napoleon told me what happened, in the office. You could have died. Permanently.”

Napoleon. All at once Illya realizes that he’s not here, and why would he not be here unless—

Gaby must see his sudden distress, because she moves quickly around the bed and places a steadying hand on his arm. “He’s fine, Illya, he’s not hurt. He just stepped out to get some food. It’s been nearly impossible to get him to leave your side. The nurses want to throttle him, I think. He’s gonna be so pissed that he wasn’t here when you woke up.”

“What happened?” he manages as he takes deep, slightly painful breaths, still trying to get his panic under control.

“Well, after you tried to get yourself killed, Napoleon took out the remaining guards and carried you out of the building. I thought you were already dead when I saw you, Illya, but thank god you’re a stubborn bastard. We blew the chemical building into atoms and stole a car. I don’t know how you didn’t bleed out on the way to the hospital. The doctors said it was basically a miracle.”

Illya huffs out a humorless laugh at that, wincing again at the pain it elicits. He opens his mouth to ask how long he’s been out, but the words are cut off by the sound of someone practically sprinting down the hall. Moments later, Napoleon appears in the door, wide-eyed and disheveled. Clearly someone—almost certainly Gaby—had at some point made him go shower and change his clothes at least once because he’s not wearing his tactical gear anymore, but his clothes are still a rumpled mess. He’s also, quite obviously, deliriously happy to see Illya awake.

“Oh god, Peril, how long have you been awake?” he asks frantically as he rushes over to Illya’s side. “I’m sorry, I was here but then Gaby told me to go get something to eat even though I wasn’t hungry—”

“I just woke up, Cowboy,” Illya interrupts, uncrossing his arms so he can reach out to grab Napoleon’s hand, lacing their fingers together.

This little gesture puts a smile on Napoleon’s face that lights up the room and fills Illya’s chest with a fierce warmth. He gives a little tug of suggestion and Napoleon bends readily down to press a kiss to his lips. It’s brief, a brush of mouths that lingers just long enough to promise so much more, and Illya feels his heart ache with happiness.

Because until that moment, Illya wasn’t entirely sure how much of it had been real. Obviously the operation at the compound had happened, but he couldn’t be certain of even that morning, of holding Napoleon tight in his arms and kissing away his tears.

“It was all real,” he breathes in wonder as Napoleon sits down on the bed next to him. “You remember.”

“If you’re asking if I remember you walking into the kitchen of the safehouse the morning after we arrived and kissing me like your life depended on it, yes, I remember,” Napoleon says, a tiny smirk twisting his lips. “As for the rest, well, we pulled off an operation that never should have been possible, so…”

“We haven’t mentioned any of it in our debriefs,” Gaby tells him. “Not even Waverly knows.”

The reason why is obvious, of course. Such a claim would no doubt trigger a mandatory psych eval and some serious skepticism about Illya’s mental stability. He can’t blame them, but at the same time he knows what happened to him was real. At least, he knows now.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “For everything.”

Gaby smiles, soft and sincere. “You need to rest,” she tells him as she bends down to kiss him gently on the forehead. “Dying that many times has to take a lot out of you.”

“That is quite an understatement,” Illya grumbles.

She squeezes his arm fondly. “I need to go tell Waverly you’re awake, but I’ll try to keep him away until tomorrow at least.”

Illya knows she’s just making up an excuse to give them some time alone, but he very much appreciates it nonetheless. When she leaves, closing the door to the room behind her, he looks up at Napoleon again, and the sheer amount of affection in his partner’s eyes is breathtaking.

“Stay with me?” he asks, squeezing Napoleon’s hand where it’s still wrapped around his.

Without a moment of hesitation, Napoleon kicks off his shoes and climbs up onto the narrow hospital bed, which is really not large enough for the two of them, but he fits his body next to Illya’s like it was made to go there. He pulls one arm up under his head and gently pushes a lock of hair off Illya’s forehead, pressing a kiss to his temple as he curls his other arm over Illya’s stomach.

“Always, Peril,” he whispers. “Always.”

[rael-rider]

I didn't say King invented the idea of Darkseid as Lovecraftian monster, just that he is writing him that way and that is a massive plus. And with the exception fo Orion-and I still don‘t see his interviews meaning the fake Orion in the book is honestly how he sees him, there is a difference between „privileged bully“ and straight up evil tyrant-he absolutely understands the characters, even if he does his own take and adds to them. It's not like he's obligated to follow old canon besides Kirby.

His interviews made it clear that it wasn’t the fake Orion he meant but just Orion in general when he showed the origin of Mister Miracle strip. Also even if the Orion we are seeing is fake he has Scott get upset when characters, even Orion himself, refer to Orion and Scott as being brothers (which is honestly the thing I hate the most since both characters saw each other as brothers in a way since being victims to the exchange pact bonded them for life).

And if King was “obligated” to follow Kirby’s stuff, well he is not doing a good job since Orion isn’t even a “privileged bully” in Kirby’s comic either. Yes Orion takes joy in violence and can be cruel while facing an opponent in a fight and it’s not the most noble thing but he reserves that for those who are also violent and cruel. Even then there are times he has caught himself and shown mercy towards those he hates because he wants to follow Highfather’s peaceful teaching and wants to better himself.

The only other major story, other than King’s MM, where he is portrayed as a bully is Starlin’s Cosmic Odyssey which people for some stupid reason seem to like taking from despite the fact that story not only shat on Orion but also John Stewart (then Starlin who went to write a very awful Death of New Gods story which wasn’t that good). I could rant about that but it’s for another day.

I don’t think King really understands a lot of these characters, not just Orion. I think with Scott and Barda where the characters he cared for the most and it showed (which makes sense since they’re the central characters). He added some good moments and emotional stuff between those two, and he had good ideas. But as a whole his Mister Miracle comic was a mess that ended up being a big wet fart with really no message and no point other than a downer story about Scott choosing to stay in a fake virtual world (which was obvious to me that it was that and not the Anti-Life Equation when the baby turned into the lump and the whole video effect, there’s a Kirby story with that stuff) and not doing the one thing he’s known for which is escaping. The fact that he chose to stay with a fake Barda rather than go back to the real one is also upsetting. Yeah I get Scott wasn’t the most interesting character in Kirby’s Fourth World (even when reading Kirby’s MM Barda was the most interesting and it made a heck of a lot of sense when I found out that Kirby initially wanted to make a comic about her and the Female Furies but ended up making Mister Miracle) but he had an interesting and tragic story that other writers  expanded on and used to give him flaws and conflict. Even Simonson in his Orion centered comic did something interesting with Scott in the short time he wrote him in that comic. I think King had a sound idea with exploring Scott having depression (even though it’s not something his character is known for) but the execution was pretty poor and in some moments the character feels very devoid of empathy which is something Scott is known for (and partially why he suffered more than anyone in Apokolips). I also see a pattern with his latest comics where he has characters that he’s interested in writing about ignore or block out the suffering of others while concentrating on their own and a few select others. He did it with Booster Gold in his Batman story (in which Booster acted pretty OOC) where Booster ignores the horrors of people dying and treats everything like a game that he can fix later and only becomes seriously affected when Bruce kills himself. Scott and Barda do the same in Mister Miracle with everyone but each other and a few characters King considers important (their kid and maybe Oberon). The scene where they go to have a treaty with Kalibak and both Barda and Scott do not react at seeing their dead friends' heads on spikes nor do they react at seeing their friends being used as table holders by the Apokoliptians. Heck both Scott and Barda lean on and slam said table which shows that they don’t give a fuck about their torture (not even touching the peeing on the pit thing which is really insulting), then there’s also that “Shut the #@*& up Lightray” running joke because no one cares about his suffering because he was being an OOC jerk and it’s funny when he’s abused I guess... Scott watching Bug get murdered in front of him and he doesn’t react to it and just keeps drinking his drink and acts like it’s nothing. But it’s OK he’s depressed I guess?? Real or not, depressed or not it just makes me think of his Scott as a jerk.

Also Barda and Scott having drinks with the bones of dead New Gods (cannibalism is now acceptable I guess) because they drank that when they were in Apokolips and it’s passed off as nostalgic. Honestly Scott and Barda view the horror of Apokolips in a nostalgic lense and I really dislike that. I guess that you make the most of it in a horrible place but they had each other and Scott had Himon’s safe haven but Scott and Barda always hated Apokolips and the good memories where with each other, moments that gave them hope, and some of the few decent people they met.

Scott seeing Granny having once seen Granny as a mother figure COULD be an interesting concept but at the same time it’s poorly done by King since he shows it as loving at times and even Scott thinking she had a romance with Izaya for some reason (I guess to signifying that Scott sees them as his parents?). Also that kind of relationship would be disgusting and perverted especially if you see how Granny manipulates the orphanage kids and Aero-troopers who see her as a mother figure and how infantile and submissive they act around her. Scott also never saw Granny that way, he saw her as an abuser and knew she used the motherly act to try and control him. The person you could argue Scott saw as a guiding figure (even if it was brief) while he was on Apokolips, and was his most healthiest relationship in there outside of Barda, was Himon whom Scott didn’t like in the beginning.

It was Himon who encouraged Scott to think independently from Darkseid when he was already having doubts about him (despite Scott thinking he was crazy for thinking that way) and who offered a haven for the misfits in Apokolips who didn’t submit to Darkseid’s rule. He alongside Metron facilitated Scott’s escape from Apokolips. When Darkseid tells Scott he will still find death outside his rule, Himon says otherwise.

I don’t even recall if Himon was in King’s Mister Miracle mini... And I honestly don’t care to check.

A big thing with Scott in Kirby’s MM is that he was the one person in Apokolips that both Granny and Darkseid couldn’t corrupt or contain. Despite everything he suffered Scott had a hope and optimism that outweighed Darkseid’s cruelty and he always escaped Granny’s grasp. Darkseid planned to let him escape Apokolips but Scott also escaped Darkseid and that more than anything bruised Darkseid’s ego. It was by managing to have a better life than what he had in Apokolips and being able to be happy and not be Darkseid’s tool what bothered Darkseid the most. After all Kirby’s Mister Miracle does end with Darkseid planning to stop Scott’s wedding with Barda just by showing up and causing a commotion in hopes he can make Scott miserable. Turns out, as he tells Oberon and Shilo Norman, that he didn’t stop the wedding but he was able to spoil the moment “Life at best is bittersweet” he ultimately proclaims.

It’s honestly a bit boring to think Scott was completely unaffected but he wasn’t unaffected by it even in Kirby’s comic and like I said writers did work with that concept and expanded on it. Simonson in Orion, Neil Gaiman in the Sandman issue that had Scott meet Morpheus, and J.M. Dematteis’ Mister Miracle (and I am sure some of the stuff I haven’t touched on yet) showed Scott was heavily affected in his time in Apokolips. He had nightmares about it, resentment towards Highfather, he even did things he felt guilt for while being there. But Scott never felt comfortable or at home in that place.

Going back to Orion. How exactly privileged can you be when they took you from your home which might be a awful but you were happy there with a mother that cared for you until you’re violently separated from her and taken to a place everyone there calls Heaven but you are told to hide your face, your history, and suppress your feelings and not tell everyone who you are or else they will hate you. Orion could never tell the other New Genesians he was an Apokoliptian or else they would shun him or maybe even go as far as try to kill him (they already suspect something is off with him). Orion was never comfortable in New Genesis even if he met his best friend there and Highfather made him want to be a better person. All that privilege doesn’t mean squat if you could never live comfortably with it while truly being yourself.

This is before Orion even knew he was Darkseid’s son, yet he still cannot reconcile himself being of New Genesis.

New Genesis also loves beauty and equates beauty with good and in a sense Orion in his true form will never be good in their eyes. As a matter in fact beautiful/good and ugly/bed is a theme that Kirby pushes around in his comics. All the pretty people are good and all the evil people are ugly. It’s not without its commentary since his stories don’t say that people are evil because they are ugly but that they are ugly because they are evil people. A commentary of how fascisms and oppressive dictatorships breed “ugly” people. Still not something I’m fond of since it’s still attaching a concept of good and evil to a person’s physiognomy. Either way it’s Orion who manages to be in that grey area in a black and white world and that’s what IMO made him the most interesting and compelling character in Kirby’s New Gods. Orion wants to be good, strives to be good, and manages to do good. But at the end of the day he’s still “flawed".

Being flawed isn’t good enough for both New Genesis, or Apokolips for that matter since you are only perfect when you’re submitted to Darkseid’s will.  Simonson even showed some of that in his Orion comic. New Genesians scoffed at Orion’s efforts to try and enlighten Apokolips and later begin to resent him when an Apokoliptian firepit appears in New Genesis (not Orion’s doing, it was Mantis’, but they really don’t care) and that’s enough to make them proclaim “Orion’s worse than Darkseid ever was!” “He was never one of us!”. Then Apokolips doesn’t accept Orion because they think him too soft, he doesn’t accept their cruelty and corruption, he disturbs those who have whatever power Darkseid had managed to give to them, and he is not as ruthless and fearful as Darkseid. He’s never good enough for any of those worlds.

Scott got the shitty end of the deal with being sent to Apokolips, a bad hellish life, no argument there. But Scott is beautiful, he has a good nature because he’s from New Genesis, he’s the son of God and the Messiah while Orion is the son of the Devil and the Anti-Christ (Not just King, but Simonson, Englehart and other writers have made those comparisons when talking about Orion and Scott). At the end of the day if Scott decided to go back to New Genesis, take his place as Izaya’s true heir and have a life of privilege he would have it and he would be welcomed with open arms. But Scott and Barda had the option to chose not to go to New Genesis and they preferred the idyllic perfect surburban high-middle class white picket fence dream life on Earth (which they love and if you read some of the JLI comics and MM vol.2 they get angry every time it’s interrupted for superhero purposes, they enjoy being domestic and doing normal mundane things because they never have that in Apokolips).

Going back to Simonson’s Orion even when Orion tried using something evil like the Anti-life equation for something good, even when he tries to free Apokolips from Darkseid’s tyranny, he ends up failing hard. It’s Scott who has to do something to set things right and in the end we know it’s only Scott who can contain the Anti-Life equation and carry the burden of it and utilize it better than anyone. Simonson mentioned that Scott has an iron clad will and that he’s the only person who cannot be corrupted by it (and I don’t even think he’s corrupted by it in King’s MM even when Orion accused him of it).

Even when Starlin had Scott use the Anti-Life Equation in Death of the New Gods he had him be exceptionally efficient at it and made sure to include a scene with Orion wondering how Scott got all sparkly and god-like when Orion himself didn’t. The obvious implication being that Scott is just better than Orion (and seeing Starlin’s feelings about Orion it's not surprising he would think that).

Because lets face it in most of the New Gods stories, even in King’s own story, Scott is allowed to be the hero and win even if the victory is phyrric and he chooses not to escape a fake world. Orion could never be the great hero, not even in most of his own stories. In King’s MM story he’s an antagonist that eventually gets killed by Darkseid and only manages some type of victory when he’s made into a weapon for Scott to kill Darkseid and get around the “Orion will kill Darkseid” prophecy. But the worst thing is that Orion’s own pain is ignored and not valid in that story. Orion hitting Scott and doing the whole “stand up” routine to try and lift him from his funk is shown as being bad because it’s Orion and he’s never “experienced pain” (King’s own words) and Barda calls him out on it. But when Barda does it it’s shown as being something good and Scott respects her for it because her pain is valid (but IMO that whole hitting Scott thing it’s just abusive behavior all around and shouldn’t be represented as good, period). Also we get possibly fake Orion acting like a tyrant (possibly corrupted by the Anti-Life equation, it’s never explained) and then when the story flashes his true face it’s to show that he’s Darkseid’s son. Again King really carries the theme of ugly=evil from Kirby but also ignores the ambiguity depth in the character of Orion.

There’s a quote from Paarthurnax a Dragon from a the game called Skyrim “What is better: to be born good or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?” And Orion is always doing the latter and sometimes he messes up. In Walt Simonson’s Orion he tries to help Apokolips, when he gets affected by the Anti-Life Equationhe tries to use it for good, but he accidentally becomes corrupted by it and makes people subservient to him even when it’s being done in the name of peace. In a way he accidentally becomes a bigger threat than Darkseid ever was and while trying to do good. When he’s taken down by Scott (dressed as the Black Racer) and realizes what he’s done he become depressed, agonizes, and wants to die. It’s only by helping a god named Clockwerx to destroy a Parasite that he finds the will to continue.

That whole ordeal was emotional, made me care about Orion’s tragedy, showed him being empathic and felt like a New Gods story. I also got some good moments between Scott and Orion and we get to see a tragic part of Scott’s life in Apokolips and both him and Orion bonding towards the end.

That said I still don’t trust King being in charge of a New Gods movie, don’t know much about Ava to form an opinion about her writing. But eh it sounds like they’re draft writing more than anything and other people can still revise it and change it. Still I won’t worry much until I hear that they’re already filming the movie.

[sserpente]

A/N: Request from @marvelssecretmistress. My little brother’s gonna get me The Night Manager on BluRay for Christmas, he’s so adorable. Enjoy reading!

Words: 1955 Warnings: blackmailing, mentions of dub-con, mentions of abuse, mentions of violence and mentions of murder (so merry)

The freezing air outside mercilessly wrapped around your body when you climbed out of the black SUV and readjusted your blue silken scarf. It mostly served to cover up the greenish bruise decorating your neck. Stephen had thrown another temper tantrum yesterday, letting it all out on you yet again. Your whole body was covered in bruises, purple, blue and yellow dots that shone out from your skin.

He had advised you repeatedly to hide them, threatening you to add a couple more if you showed them to anybody and pain was persuasive. So you kept your mouth shut, covering yourself in long winter coats, designer sweaters he bought you and expensive scarfs.

“Come on, puppet, let’s head inside.” Puppet. You hated the nickname he had for you, treating you like a fuck toy rather than an actual person. Why you were still staying with him? You had talked about it with your best friend once, who had practically begged you to dump him and come live at her place for a while.

You didn’t even love him anymore—he was but a cruel, abusive and violent man, making you nauseous rather than awakening butterflies in your belly. But exactly there lay the problem. Fear was persuasive too and Stephen had, after you trying to break up with him, not once threatened to kill both you and your family if you left him. A girlfriend would look good by his side he had said, showing he was as admirable as he was rich and that he didn’t want to spend his money on an actress or a whore.

None of the luxurious gifts be bought you to calm his conscious—if he had one, that was—made up for the horrors you kept going through and still, you kept hanging in there. One day, you would get away. One day, you would be free of this monster.

Following Stephen inside, you let out a breath of relief when the warmth of the hotel enveloped your trembling form. The furniture around here hadn’t changed.

Every year over the holidays, Stephen booked a room in the same exclusive hotel in Switzerland, high up in the mountains where no one would bother him. Only few people could afford a room for even one night and the service was beyond impressive, yet nothing compared to a merry Christmas with friends and family.

The last time you had spent the holidays with them had been three years ago. Here, in this hotel, the staff prepared you a Christmas tree, cooked traditional British dinner and even offered to wrap your presents for you, which you usually shipped off two weeks before Christmas. This year you had already taken care of that yourself, given it was the 24th already.

Suspecting you were unhappy in this gross relationship, they attempted everything to make it worth your while, treating you like a real princess and spoiling you sparing no expenses. There wasn’t much you asked for but whenever there was something you needed, they were here for you—something you couldn’t exactly say about your boyfriend.

There was one man you were particularly fond of. A staff member, enchanting you with his British accent. The Night Manager. One year ago, after another antagonising bruise Stephen had beautified you with on Christmas Eve, you had spent hours in the lobby, talking to this mysterious young man called Jonathan Pine.

Ever since then, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Dreaming of him… fantasising about him… surely, as your boyfriend, he would treat you entirely different. He was a charming gentleman and you hoped that this year, your beloved Night Manager would be here again. And he was.

He was already smiling at you when you joined Stephen at the reception, explaining some last details about the hotel, the pool and room cleaning before handing him the key to his suite. His blue gaze longingly rested on you almost too long when you turned your head to nod at him shyly, promising mutely you would pay him a visit a little later.

You knew there was a heated pool downstairs and it was the perfect excuse to sneak out of Stephen’s suite at night and talk to Jonathan again. You had missed him and, judging by the tender gaze he had struck you with, he had missed you too.

It was quite late already. You knew Stephen would go to sleep soon. He always worked on Christmas Day, not bothering about merriment or other frippery. He reminded you of Scrooge sometimes—greedy, heartless and unnecessarily cruel.

“Where’re you going?” He snapped when you thanked one of the staff members for bringing in your luggage, then removed your winter jacket and made your way back to the door.

“Downstairs, for a swim, to warm up, darling.”

“Well, too bad. You stay, I want to fuck.” Flinching, you took a deep breath, your fingers not quite touching the door knob. You used to love having sex with Stephen. He knew where to touch a woman to send her flying above the clouds but now, even if it still felt good to lie underneath him, all you ever saw was him bringing his fists to your body when he was in a bad mood. If once it had been a loving and sweet experience, now it was just sex.

Thus far, he hadn’t forced himself on you but not for a second did you doubt he would if refused to get on the bed now. You sighed mutely, giving him a fake cheeky smile before removing your clothes.

You thought about him. The whole time—every touch, every stroke, every sweet nothing Stephen whispered into your ear (and didn’t mean)… you thought about Jonathan. When he was finally asleep, you quietly sneaked out of the room with nothing more than your bathrobe on and tiptoed downstairs.

As expected, the Night Manager was standing behind the reception, lost in some papers. He looked up in surprise when he heard you approaching, his face lighting up upon recognising you. His blue eyes sent pleasant shivers up and down your spine and when you smiled at him, pulling him in a cordial hug, he sighed.

“It’s so good to see you, (Y/N).”

“I’m glad you’re still here.”

Jonathan smirked. “I always am,” He paused then, frowning at the greenish mark on your neck, shaped like a hand.

“It’s nothing. He’s done worse.”

“I know. This needs to stop, (Y/N).”

Hopeless, you shook your head. “One day maybe…” Another pause, this time on your behalf. “I… I was thinking about you.”

Jonathan furrowed his brows. A barely visible smile crept up on his lips.

“(Y/N)…” You loved the way he said your name. His smooth and velvety voice never failed to lull you into comfort and calmness. “It has to stop now. I can help you. Come on, sit with me.”

He could help you? How would he help you? He was a Night Manager, not some dangerous undercover spy… right? Jonathan led you straight into a staff room behind the reception. Apart from a desk with a computer on it, a weak lamp and a couch, it was rather empty and still, you felt cosier than you did up in the suite with Stephen.

He motioned for you to sit down on the couch, which you did, hugging yourself in the process. You were alone now… no one would ever know if you two… clearing your throat, you watched him pacing up and down before coming to a stop right in front of you. You looked up at him, waiting for him to speak up again.

“I am not who you think I am.”

“Your name is not Jonathan Pine and you are not a Night Manager?”

He smiled weakly. “I am but I am also… I work for the government.” Your heart leapt into your throat. No… he really was a spy.

“I have been watching your… boyfriend for a little over two years now and I think I have finally collected enough evidence to get him into jail for his crimes. My friends are currently on the way to the hotel to arrest him.”

Was the room spinning? Was it your head? Your lips parted in shock and surprise, causing Jonathan to rush to your side to support you.

“No… Jonathan, he is going to kill you. He’s tricked the police many times before, you can’t just… I know he’s done terrible things but… don’t… don’t do that. He won’t rest until you’re dead.”

“Don’t worry.”

As if on cue, the entrance to the hotel opened, revealing a woman and two heavily armoured police officers. You could see them through the door but when you stood to go back outside, Jonathan held you back.

“No, (Y/N). Wait here, it’ll be safer. He might think you backstabbed him and attack you. You’ll be fine, I promise.”

He didn’t leave you any time to reply and ask one of the million questions racing through your head like pixies. Instead, he left the room and gently closed the door behind him, talking to his colleagues. You could hear them ascending the stairs and then, for a few minutes, it was utterly, eerily quiet.

Only moments after, the shooting started. Stephen usually slept with a gun—he was paranoid. Praying that nothing would happen to Jonathan or his friends, you listened to dull fighting and heavy footsteps, flinching every time you heard fists connecting to body parts.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Had Santa finally heard your plea? Had he sent you Jonathan to rescue you, to save you? The Night Manager now seemed like a blue-eyed angel you wanted to hold on to for the rest of your life.

Only an hour ago you had, more or less willingly, let Stephen use your body for his pleasure, and now, the police was finally about to handcuff him and lock him behind metal bars where he belonged. It was a Christmas miracle. You had only ever read of those in books.

You literally jumped when Jonathan entered the small room again, his lower lip bleeding a little from a seemingly painful blow.

“Are you alright? What happened? Where is he? Did you get him?”

“He is being brought to the nearest police station right now. I’m okay, it’s just a scratch.” He panted, forcing himself to smile.

“It doesn’t look like a scratch. Let me…” Time seemed to stop when you approached him, gently cupping his chin with one hand to touch his wound with the other, carefully, so you wouldn’t hurt him.

“(Y/N)… it’ll heal. I’ve had worse.” Jonathan’s blue eyes locked with yours, trapping you in a world where there was hope and a future. Stephen was gone… Jonathan had saved your life.

Instead of replying, you gave in, submitting to the magical energy between you, the electricity buzzing between your bodies like a powerful reactor. Every fibre of your being longed to be touched by this wonderful man before you, desperate to push against him and feel his skin against yours.

Hesitating because you didn’t want to scare him away, you brought up your hands to cup his cheeks, enjoying how warm his clean-shaven skin felt against your palms, and softly kissed him.

“Thank you,” you murmured when you pulled away again, tears glistening in your eyes. “Thank you…”

“You can stay with me for a while, if you like. I can take care of you.”

Nodding, you smiled up at him.

“Please. I would like that. Merry Christmas, Jonathan.”

His concerned expression softened upon hearing your whispered words. “Merry Christmas, (Y/N).”

It was him who kissed you first this time.

A/N: I’m sorry if anyone’s boyfriend’s name is Stephen, I just… needed a name. xD

[dykedteach]

so anyway I saw this tweet and thought of SilverFlint and lo and behold, a drabble happened!

modern au silverflint, fluff, kisses, and breakfast, all under the cut :)

(cross-posted to AO3!)

He refused to open his eyes on principle, at first. Somebody, not him, had opened the curtains early enough that the sunlight that streamed through the window had warmed the pale sheets and the skin peeking out from the top of them, creating a comforting safe harbor in which he wanted to hide himself away for the rest of the day.

The first fully conscious thought he had was that the somebody who had first opened those curtains would have had to have left their bed to do so, and so he blindly shot out a hand to his side, feeling only rumpled material and the faintest trace of body heat. This was when he first chose to open a singular eye, just to make sure he hadn’t missed John by some miracle, as if he’d somehow been able to remain on the edge of the bed, an invisible presence as he had felt his way across the sheets.

Life returned to him little by little, and he reached for his phone to check the time. Still too bloody early for a weekend, but the protesting sun was already high in the sky. He shifted out of bed and into pyjama bottoms and his pair of slippers, rolling his shoulders as he moved. He could smell something cooking, but couldn’t quite discern what John was making. He padded down the hallway, making his way towards John and whatever it was he was concocting.

The man was stood in front of the oven carefully watching his food, something sweet-smelling, as it sizzled away in the pan. His tanned back was facing James, dark curls loosely piled on top of his head, and James followed the dip of his back with his eyes to where it met the waistband of a pair of pyjamas he was sure once belonged to him, a long time ago.

“Sleep alright?” John asked without turning to look at James, having heard his slippers tap against the wood in the hallway. He ambled over to him, hooking his chin over his shoulder to observe his cooking. Two slices of French toast, smelling delicious with what James knew to be John’s personal preferred blend of spices, were almost perfectly browned.

“Mhmm. Why’d you get up so early?” he said, burying his face into his jaw and gently kissing the scruff there.

“Early? I was up at nine, I wouldn’t consider that early.” John laughed, leaning into the kiss as he tried to concentrate on the pan. “Sometimes in civilised society, we wake up early on a weekend to get things done, you see.”

“Uh huh. Fuck civilised society.” James yawned, wrapping his arms around John’s firm waist.

“Wouldn’t get comfy, if I were you, these are almost ready. Go sit down, I’ll make you some coffee too. Go on.”

He reluctantly let go of John, going to sit at their high breakfast bar. He opened his phone again, scrolling through news articles with a frown.

“Everything is bullshit.” he stated when John came over with his plate of toast and a bottle of syrup. He stopped short, eyebrows furrowing at James.

“Beg your pardon?” he asked, confused.

“All…this.” James said, waving his phone around before putting it down on the table. “Everything is bloody ridiculous. They’re sending a team of lizards, in a rocket, to the moon. An airline announced its going to make a cabin crew full of real dogs. They’re selling ketchup with popping candy. Fucking popping candy, John.”

Without saying a word, John walked around to his side, a grin spreading over his face, and kissed him on the top of his head. As he was just about to turn towards him and kiss him proper, he was rewarded with a hard pinch to the top of his arm, and a gentle punch to the same spot. James glared at him.

“The fuck was that?” he asked John, who had walked away snorting with laughter, his prosthetic tapping on the tile with each step.

“A reminder!” he called back, raiding the cupboards for coffee.

Confused for a moment, and ignoring John’s words, he picked up the bottle of syrup and tried to squeeze it onto the French toast. He tried again. Then, one last time, hitting the bottom of the mostly-full bottle, he tried again, and nothing came out.

Hearing stifled giggles from John’s back, bent over the coffee press, it dawned on James. The news articles. The pinching. The syrup.

He twisted the lid fully open, and saw a piece of clear tape underneath the nozzle. Peeling it off as he sighed, he sent another glare John’s way.

“It’s April. Of course.” he said, feeling somewhat defeated already. Able to drizzle syrup over his breakfast now, he took a wary bite, doubtful that John would mess with his food too much, but still…

“Happy April Fool’s Day, love.” he said cheerfully. The smell of coffee filled the room as he poured. Granted, the toast was as mouth-wateringly amazing as usual, and seemed devoid of any further pranks, so James carried on eating.

“By the way...don’t you think it looks awfully muggy outside today?” John asked nonchalantly. James looked up and out of the window, to the bright midday sun spreading through a cloudless sky. He was about to confront him with his confusion, when he froze, a dreaded theory forming as he looked down the corridor towards the front door.

“If I go outside and all of our mugs are on the front lawn...” he said slowly, eyes locking in on John’s shoulders which appeared to be shaking with silent laughter. “...then I swear to God Almighty, I will leave you.”

His shoulders stilled, and he slowly began to turn around, rotating on his good heel. Held with both hands to his chest was a bowl full of steaming liquid, which he brought up to his lips as he held eye contact with his boyfriend, face having turned thunderous. 

James sighed heavily, finishing the last bite of his toast and pushing himself out of his chair. He stomped down the corridor towards the front of the house, in order to examine the damage. He heard John following him, stifled giggles and the mis-matched padding of his stride only a few feet behind him.

It had been done rather neatly, he decided. Every single mug in the house, from the plain-ish ones in their dinner set, to novelty mugs patterned with phrases and animals, John’s mugs printed with super heroes, holiday souvenirs, and the mug he’d bought James for Christmas, custom made with the spines of all his favourite books printed on, his beloved mug.

All of them. Arranged in one uniform line, from small to large, on their front lawn.

The street was deserted, but James shuddered to think how long they’d been out there, how many people had witnessed John’s prank. Then he felt a presence at his back, the scratch of a beard settle on his shoulder and warm breath tickle his ear.

“You are...an insufferable shit.” he exhaled, finding his frustration fast fading. He could feel John’s chest, warm and rising at his back, arms wrapped around his waist.

“I know.” he mumbled into his neck. “You love it, though.”