#the danvers which brothers

[urlovetataxz]

─ The Danvers Witch Brothers

[randomshyperson]

Five Times Carol Danvers Kisses You

Summary: The five times Carol Danvers kisses you until you two finally get together. 

Warnings: Mentions but nothing explicit, a lot of fluff, mutual pining (and typical angst of trope), best friends to lovers, pre-canon-compliant (takes place before Carol is taken), kissing, happy(ish) ending. | Words: 4.836k

A/N-> As mentioned on this blog before, I absolutely love the dynamics of "Five Times Something" and after watching The Marvels I became obsessed with Carol Danvers, and here I am with something about my beloved blondie. It's short and sweet, and I didn't want to write anything too angsty but you can get hints of what's to come from the canon (Dr.Lawson being a Kree in disguise and what will happen to Carol). But the fic doesn't address this directly and ends up with a happy scene. Let's all live in denial.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

One.

“This is not a place to raise a child” was the justification your father used when he left. Funny enough, he didn't take the child, you, away from all the high-tech military weapons that he described as inadequate for a child to grow up around. 

His lost, it what your mother said, an easy smile on her lips while she offered you a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. She still had some grease on her jacket and a lot of dust on her hair but she looked beautiful. That was just how things were for Wendy Lawson.

And because she was the best mom anyone could ask for, or at least that was what you would perceive it with your limited references of healthy families. She was the best because she would let you sit around while she worked for the Shield, casually teaching you advanced engineering like it was the same homework you had from secondary school.

That was the only life you knew: Afternoons of trying to stay out of the way of Shield Agents and their big weapons until you were old enough to have a gun yourself.

But before that time came, some of them worried you weren't having a decent childhood. Away from guns at least.

You don't know which of the Agents suggested to Doctor Lawson the kart track, but you wish you could thank them. Your mother, as the busy cientist she always has been, was not available to be around all of the evenings you wished to spend there but she trusted your independence to use the bus after school. Besides, you had the impression that there were always Shield Agents keeping an eye on you no matter where you went.

Só for three whole years, that old place was your favorite. You would run out from the classroom with the first ring of the bell to get to the kart track as fast as you could, and for all those three years, you were also the best runner there.

Of course, it cost you some bloody noose and bruised hands. Especially with sore losers little boys who were very unpleased to be second placed by some random girl. There were also the parents, who would whisper not very lowly on how absurd it was to let an unsupervised little girl in such a violent activity.

As luck would have it, someday you were no longer the only little girl around.

The Danvers were local, and you always thought there were only three of them. The grumpy father and the loud and popular sons. But one day, the one with the warmest smile, the youngest son brought someone with him.

His little sister's name was Carol. She had her blonde hair tied down and she looked ready to punch anyone who gave her a hard time. All the Danvers kind looked the same to be fair. Blonde, strong and angry.

Unlike her brother and their free pass to do as they please, Carol was constantly reprimanded by her father. Even there, in front of the whole crowd and runners, he would scream and pinch her ear, adding to the fury that shone behind Carol's little blue eyes.

The other children would whisper just like their parents but growing up with spies and secret agents gave you this second nature to sneak in and out of places without being noticed. You weren't supposed to hear some of the adults whispering how Mr.Danvers drank more than he should or how his older son was leaving next summer for the army with a purple eye he didn't get in the training. You weren't supposed to but you did.

So the next time Carol crashed a car with one of the other runners, you messed up your perfect record to help her.

Her dad screamed again, as usual. But he left, muttering she could find her way home since she was so clever and Carol had those thick tears in her eyes that made them bluer, so you were helping her before you could give a second thought to it.

She didn't mind that you took her hand and brought her to the administration lobby. She's more interested in knowing how the hell you knew how to get there in the first place.

When you told her you grew up with spies she laughed thinking you were joking. You decided to tell her more stories in the hope it would distract her from the pain of the cuts she got in her legs from the crash.

It worked.

Carol had colorful patches on both her knees when you two sneaked out of there to the bus stop. You could take her home if she wished because you knew a lot about public transport but Carol smiled and said she could do it alone; Her dad was often not around and with soldiers brothers, she knew a lot about doing things by herself.

Yet, she appreciates the gesture and the thought. Her bus should be here in 25 minutes so you sit next to her and let your healthy knee brush her bruised one.

“My name is Carol Danvers by the way.” 

You have to chuckle at her line.

“I know who you are, Danvers.” You retort with an easy smile. She looks up with curiosity. You chuckle again. “You know your name is on the scoreboard, right?”

She laughs, almost shyly. You don't know that yet but Carol is not the best at making friends. Especially girlfriends because apparently, every girl hated how not 60s girly behavior she acted on as much as any boy.

You didn't mind. If anything, it kinda made you like her more.

“You didn't have to do that back there you know?” She starts over, fingers tugging at the bandaid you put above her knee. “Lose the race to check on me.”

You shrug, eyes on the road. “No worries. There'll be other races. Besides, you're the only real competition I get there. If you're not participating, what's the fun in winning?”

Carol's cheeks grow a little hotter, but you're both too young to know it has nothing to do with the sun above your heads. You offer her a smile and she gets up to signal to the bus.

But before she leaves, she turns to you again.

It's quicker than her crash that morning, the thank you little peck on your right cheek but is as meaningful as losing a three-year Invictus status on a track race for someone.

Carol nearly flees the scene once she catches the first glimpse of surprise in your expression. You were caught off guard, that's all. But all you can do is laugh to yourself as you watch her run to her bus.

Tomorrow, when you are back here, you'll find Carol so you can share your lunch with her. Today, you would walk home with no clue why the spot she kissed was tingling.

-&-

Two.

Shield Academy is not the army. 

It is, as the name suggests, an academic program for the gifted-minded. It's a place where a child who grew up surrounded by the brightest minds on the planet can get it easily.

Well, of course, there's a lot of studying and tiring exams that you wouldn't describe as easy but when taking everything into consideration, the only place a brainy - or huge nerd as Carol would call it - could end up was there.

So while you had big dark blue sweaters with the Shield logo on them, Carol had worn out public school uniforms. 

But she was doing okay. In fact, if anyone asked you, even though you were the nerd one in that friendship, for you, Carol was quite brilliant. She had a quick mind and such a strong, well, everything. She was as clever as she was kind. She was passionate about anything she cared for and she was easily your favorite person.

The kart track gave space for the public library and the green plains behind Shield Academia as you two grew up. Carol would take her bike from across town and spend the whole day after school in those green yards with you. Often, she had a football with her while you had a book.

And while you tried to escape your Shield colleagues, Carol would find her spot at your side. She would watch those training agents and wish to be like them, while both of you knew she would follow her brothers to the military when the time came.

But for now, you're sixteen. And Carol has been your best friend for almost 6 years now. You're not sure if friends have anniversaries or if it's something reserved for dating, and since you're not gonna ask any of the agents around, especially not Doctor Lawson, you just assume is okay to get Carol a gift.

She had been wishing for a walkman for so long - she had three already, all broke down during some of her naughty antics, from jumping into the reservation without remembering to take them off her backpack to get into a fight with older kids who thrown her stuff just for the fun of it. So yes, she had those before and she loved music but somehow she always ended up breaking them so you thought maybe because you were the one gifting it, she would be more careful.

You were right of course, but that's hardly the point.

Carol started to act strange after the gift. Even days later, during movie night at her house, she got quiet, which is definitely not a Carol Danvers kind of attitude, so you started to wonder if the present was a good idea at all.

That of course, until Carol clarified the whole thing.

“I got you something too. For, hum, the anniversary thing.” 

You pinched her ribs, the nearly shy behavior was such an odd thing to testify that was actually terrifying you. Carol has been your best friend for way too long for that or anything to be awkward between you two.

But then again, adolescence makes everything weird.

You don't open the gift very graciously. Because you were in the middle of movie night, of course, hands full of popcorn butter and Carol was being weird and suspect that you just wanted to put an end to it.

You chuckle at her worn-out team jacket there.

“So your gift to me is your jacket?” You asked with a confused frown, watching your friend struggle with her words the next moments.

“No, I mean yes. But not, just that.” She starts and it's quite the scene. Carol Danvers not being able to talk when that's all she does. “It's my favorite jacket. I… really like it.”

“Do you want it back then?” You suggest with a confused laugh but Carol shakes her head immediately, her cheeks rosy.

“God, no, that’s not…” she takes a deep breath. “I like the jacket, a lot, but not as much as I like you. So I thought, maybe if I can give you something that I really like, it will mean…”

“Oh, I get it.” You say with a smile, holding the jacket against your chest as Carol switches the weight in her foot. “Thank you, blondie. But you don't have to give me your favorite stuff to show me you like me. You don't have to give me anything at all really. Perhaps, all you have to do is say it and I'll believe you.”

Carol nods, shallowing dryly, and without missing a beat, she repeats her words from before: “I really like you.” It's nearly a whisper, and the way she struggles to hold your gaze tells you everything you need to know.

You smile, aware of the warmth spreading in your cheeks and ears.

“I really like you too, Carol.” You tell her and with no hush, you put her jacket on. The blonde in front of you takes a shaky breath once the jacket is properly around your body. You're distracted with the new outfit to take notice of the new dark shine her eyes hold. “Gotta admit it, Danvers, I could totally worm the athletic style. I mean, I look super cool don't I?”

But your question goes unanswered. Carol moves forward, her hands grab the collar of the gifted jacket and just like the first time, she kisses you quicker than you can manage to process.

Her lips are dry against yours because she's nervous. Trembling and terrified. You pull away, and Carol has her eyes closed tightly, breathing unevenly.

You take a deep breath and lick your lips to moisten them a little and the second kiss is much better. 

There's this soft noise she makes when you move your mouth but the second you feel her tongue on your lower lip, there's noise around you two.

As if getting electrocuted, Carol jumps away just in time for her evidently drunk father to stumble inside the garage.

Carol is not eight anymore, but she's the only one left in that house. Her older brother taught her five different ways to break someone's noose, but Carol still shakes like the leaves if her father is around with his harsh words and angry looks.

This time, however, he takes a long glance at you both. The guilty looks, accelerated breathing, and he just laughs.

The only thing he says is a slur that makes Carol flinch. Then he turns his back and climbs the stairs to his bedroom, passing out in the hallway before he can make it through.

“Carol, I-” You try but she forces a smile and nods at the door.

“Please go.” She asks. “I have to take him to bed and you don't have to stay.”

“But-”

“Please.”

You leave. And Carol doesn't bring up that night for the next two years.

-&-

Three.

Graduation means Army. More specifically, the Air Force because of course Carol Danvers wants to fly away from everything and everyone.

“Not everyone.” She frowns when you tell her that. Then she smiles, legs brushing yours at the back of her truck. “I would love to have you up there with me.”

You chuckle, giving her shoulder a little bump with your own.

“Sorry Blondie, you know I hate planes.” You joke but the shine in her eyes is deeper now.

“What about spaceships?” She insists it.

You sigh into the night, pensive for a second.

“Well, Mom would probably love it if I ever suggest anything that involves flying.” You say, breaking into a chuckle as your hand moves to the leg you have bent in that position, which allows you to trace your fingers toward your ankle. “Of course, anything other than my secret little Pegasus.”

Carol gives a compliance smile at the mention of the secret tattoo you got on her seventeenth birthday but continues to watch you in silence.

The stars are shining bright above you two, and the parked truck gives as much privacy as one could get in that neighborhood. If you and Carol weren't girls, people would make conclusions.

Perhaps they’ll do it anyway.

“What would I even do up there, Danvers?” You ask her because Carol is so passionate about flying that you're starting to wonder if she is able to see a whole different world up there that you can't.

This time, her hand finds you before her lips. She brings her fingers to yours resting on the truck and locks them. She gets closer and closer and gives you all the time in the world to push her back.

But she's Carol, and she's beautiful and she's your best friend. Why wouldn't you want to kiss her?

There's tongue this time. Hesitant at first then curious, until finally hungry. Of course, Carol Danvers is a good kisser, this asshole.

You break apart, to complain with a husky tone that is unfair but Carol only chuckles before kissing you again. And again. Until somehow you end with your back against her truck, painting into her mouth.

And Carol is seventeen years old and she's a huge virgin like you who really wants this to change tonight. Not just that, of course, but she's still a teen and that's exactly what she chooses to say in order to make this less life-changing than it is.

Because sleeping together as a way of ending high school without the V Card has a completely different meaning than sleeping together because you really want to ruin a friendship.

You swallow at her suggestion, aware that the heat in your veins doesn't cover for the way your heart just broke inside your chest.

But you smile and tell Carol you love her, making sure it sounds platonic. Just to hurt her just as much.

It works, but she kisses you anyway.

-&-

Four.

Maria Rambeau is the most incredible person you have ever met. She's clever and fun and kindhearted. It's so easy to love her and it comes so naturally, that you can't really blame Carol.

You also have no right to be jealous, you tell yourself.

After all, Carol asked more than once for you to at least consider following her to the Air Force. You both had military families, so it made sense for her that you both ended up following the same path.

You were not entirely excluded from that, of course. But unlike Carol with her soldier training, you had medical classes. And while she and Maria learned to shoot people, you learned to heal them.

That of course until the third year, when Carol's training moved to space crafting and yours moved to biological charts. The Pegasus was not the only military project available for you, and being home was good but every time you caught a glimpse of the empty fields near the station, you remember afternoons with Carol and the lack of her ache a hell lot inside your chest.

But visiting her at the base and then at a local bar was a bittersweet occasion.

Because time went by and Carol made a new friend. A lovely and brilliant and apparently less confused woman new best friend. Maria who made her laugh and blush and was such a great company that you couldn't hate her no matter how much the jealousy burned inside your veins.

Somehow, no matter how many dove eyes Carol threw at Maria, she didn't catch them. Immune to her charm entirely. You kinda wished she would teach you that.

The last free week you had was spent visiting Carol and ending up in a bar. But Maria's night was continuing with a good-looking soldier somewheres else, so yours and Carol's would continue with cheap drinks.

It was probably common sense, not to mix alcohol with feelings but you and Carol clearly skipped that class.

You ended up pressed behind the bar's wall in a messy attempt of drunken make-out with your former best friend.

Carol tasted like beer and the army's year changed her. Even drunk, she knew her way around a woman's body now and you had to force your stupid brain to stop wondering about who she had been practicing with. Perhaps Maria was not immune to her charm as you thought she was.

Just as things were getting out of hand, that is, it was probably against some army rules to have sex behind one bar in the military area, Carol pulled away.

She looked so good like that, with messy hair and flushing cheeks, her lips swollen due to the whole thing.

But her eyes were so sad. And you couldn't push the alcohol and the lust away to have clear thoughts on that.

“We can't do this again.” She declares with a seriousness that makes you swallow hard. “I can't.”

She stumbles away and you nearly slip down the hall on your shaky legs. Carol is looking for her car keys but she will definitely fall asleep on the seat.

To be fair, you kinda wished that night would end in her car seat, just in very different scenarios.

“Why not, Danvers?” You manage to question once the anger pushes a little of the alcohol away. Carol sighs tiredly. “Why?” You almost scream and she stops in her tracks, turning to give you a hurt look.

“I can't do this again, okay?” She retorts and she's drunk but she's so hurt. You can see it in her eyes and it kills you to think it is something you have done it. “I don't have the strength in me to get over you again”.

Your world freezes for a whole second. Your mouth is bitter suddenly.

“O-over me?” You repeat her words, confusion mixing with the pain you feel growing in your chest. “When… When were you under me?”

The question is the best of what your drunk brain can come up with but it's enough for Carol to understand.

She lets out a sad chuckle. “C'mon, Lawson. How could you not know? Everyone did. Even my dad, especially my dad.” She corrects herself then, bitterly before taking a deep breath. “It's past. It doesn't matter anymore. We are no longer kids, messing around with things we don't understand. I know what am I. And I know we shouldn’t. I won't jeopardize our friendship again for someone I cannot have.”

There are tears in your eyes, and Carol has the fucking worst timing in the world because your brain simply can't catch up with the meaning of this conversation with all the booze in the way.

“Carol, what are you even saying?”

She just smiles, giving a nod to the bar.

“Let's get inside, I'll get you a cab back to your hotel.”

She doesn't let you question further and the next morning, when the hangover barely allows you to open your eyes, Carol says the worst thing you did last night was try dancing with a Statue.

-&-

Five.

Doctor Lawson has been acting strange lately. She says it's work stress when she returns your calls and ignores your advice about her retiring.

You use your mother's stress as an excuse to come home, and it seems ridiculous that you have to invent reasons to see Carol, but she gives you no choice. Things have been very strange between you in recent months.

The house is a mess, and it's the first time you've worried about the possibility of dementia.

Strange phrases, disconnected words. You think about calling the head of Shield when you put Dr. Lawson to bed after making her some hot tea, but you end up calling Carol.

Your former best friend brings her old truck into your garage.

"Hey, blondie." She hugs you first at the greeting, and you sigh with satisfaction at the contact. You almost forget the stress of the whole meeting with your mother. "It's good to see you."

"I missed you." Carol says with a smile, squeezing you tighter before letting go. "What happened? You sounded worried on the phone."

You sigh before telling her everything you saw, standing there leaning on Carol's truck in the dim light of the garage. It's her turn to sigh when you finish.

"Good thing I brought beer." She comments, getting a laugh out of you. 

You don't even notice the time passing that night, but it's like being back in senior year, sitting side by side in the back of Carol's truck, forgetting the world around you for a moment.

When the case of beers is about to run out, you've said almost everything you have to say. Carol thinks she needs to add something more.

"I know the circumstances aren't the best but... I can't say I'm sad." She begins, looking straight ahead, a half-full can of beer in her hands. "With the possibility of you coming to live here again, I mean. I've kind of hated Washington since you left. And Shield too, for taking you away."

You giggle shyly at this and don't know what to say to Carol, so you just decide to hug her. But you're a bit dizzy after the third beer and miscalculate your approach. You end up too close to her face and can see almost in slow motion how the blue darkens or how Carol chokes on her breath.

"I'm sorry, I-" you begin in a hoarse voice, but she doesn't let you finish. The beer can slips out of her hand as she uses both to pull your face towards her.

It's an intense, messy, and passionate kiss. Carol swallows all the sighs that escape your lips as she presses her mouth to yours. Her tongue doesn't ask for passage. You melt against her and try your best to match her energy, suddenly feeling very dizzy, unrelated to the beer.

Her hands move from your face to your neck and down to your waist. Carol mentions pulling you onto her lap, but the balcony lights flicker on and she grunts as she pulls away.

You're still blinking spellbound at the whole thing, trying to catch your breath as she stands up, adjusting her hair.

"Fuck, I shouldn't have done that." She mutters more to herself than to you, hoarse and upset. You swallow dry. "I'm so stupid."

"Carol."

"You're so fucking stupid, Carol Danvers, I swear to God." She ignores your call, continuing to curse quietly to herself. You frown, but end up looking at the porch; your mother has woken up and looks just as lost as before and you really need to check on her.

When you get out of the truck, you touch Carol on the shoulder, and she turns around almost in despair.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that, I'm leaving-"

"Carol, shut up." You cut her off and don't let her say another word.

She shuts up immediately. "I really have to get back inside, and make sure my mom doesn't turn on any water or store the cat in the fridge again." You chuckle apologetically, stroking her cheek. "But I need you to understand that this isn't a mistake, an accident or a thoughtless act after a few beers. At least it isn't and it never was for me. We need to start talking to each other."

Carol nods quickly, swallowing as she looks down at your swollen lips. "Yeah, talking is good."

You smile, and hear the sound of the cat in the house and think you'd better start running. "Later, okay?"

"Later."

But your mother doesn't have dementia. She's not even allowed in a regular hospital. Shield is strangely private about everything, but you're practically coerced into signing confidentiality papers about the current state of Dr. Lawson, who seems to miraculously improve after spending an hour in a room with other agents.

Carol is the only person you can talk to about things, and she has news of her own.

"Maria is pregnant." She tells you, with a twinkle in her eye, without waiting for you to finish absorbing the news. "And she wants me to be the godmother!"

You're happy for Maria, especially perhaps because she's seeing that handsome soldier and she and Carol have nothing going on. Also, you need to tell Carol that you can go back to Washinton now that your mother is better.

"Oh, I thought..." The blonde hesitates as she hears the news, trying not to look upset by forcing a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "I thought you'd decided to stay."

You're having breakfast in the living room of your house, Dr. Lawson is working upstairs. You swallow the bitter feeling of hurting Carol again.

"I would, for Mom. But why would I stay in Louisiana?" It's a rhetorical question because you both know very well what would make you stay. Carol laughs sadly, looking down. You get tired of pretending. " I would stay for you. I would stay for... us."

She looks at you in silence, a conflict of emotions on her face. "Don't be ridiculous, you can't just give up your career for a friendship-"

"Carol." You cut her off seriously, and she choked on her sentence, her eyes as tearful as yours. You give her a small smile, trying to ignore the way your heart is pounding in your chest. "You know that's not what I'm saying."

She swallows dryly, and despite reaching out to take your hand, she insists; "I'm gonna need you to say it."

"God, you're such an asshole." You gasp with emotion, laughing as tears of happiness escape yours and her eyes. Carol also laughs but waits. "Okay, Danvers. You've got me. I'm completely, irrevocably in love with you. I have been for a long time, maybe since the first time I saw you. And I'm sorry it took me so long to tell you."

Carol almost knocks over the coffee table when she moves in to kiss you but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[tortillamastersblog]

✐ Seven Years | Kara Danvers ✎

Pairing: Kara Danvers x reader

Warnings: slight angst

Summary: Seven years is a long time, but you’ve never given up on Kara.

________________________________________________

Seven Years Ago

A knock on my door makes me shoot up in bed. After crash landing on earth with Mon El I’m still getting used to my super hearing.

I rub my eyes and check my phone for the time, frowning when I see it’s two in the morning. I get out of bed and use my x-ray vision to see who’s at the door.

Much to my surprise I realize it’s Kara and the way she holds herself is very unusual. She’s leaned against the doorframe, her hair a mess and her glasses are askew on the bridge of her nose.

“Hey, what are you doing here this late?” I ask when I open the door.

Kara’s head shoots up and her hazy, glassy eyes meet mine. She sways when she pushes herself off the doorframe and when she slurs a, “Heyyy,” I smell alien liquor on her breath.

I sigh and step aside, letting her in wordlessly. This isn’t the first time she’s shown up drunk at my doorstep and I’m pretty sure tonight it’s for the exact same reason as last time.

“What did he do this time?” I say, exasperated as Kara flops down on my couch face first.

Mon El. . .

I love my twin brother, don’t get me wrong, but he can be such a jackass sometimes.

Since he started going out with Kara, he has changed for the better, but sometimes he slips up and that’s when I get involved because not long after waking up here on Earth, Kara’s took an instant liking to me.

Unlike my brother I didn’t break out of the DEO, I didn’t send out a distress call that got me arrested, and I’ve never believed our people’s claims that the Kryptonians were responsible for all our hardships, which meant Kara and I became friends rather quickly.

And as her friend I’m one of the only people she can talk to about Mon El because I know him better than anyone and I’m more often than not the one who talks some sense into him whenever he messes up.

Now, I could say I don’t mind because that’s what friends are for, but I do because I hate how I was too shy to ask her out and when I mentioned it to him, he swooped in and asked her out himself.

It’s like he doesn’t even care about her and only did it to one-up me once again, the same way he’s been doing all his life.

Kara groans and I take a seat beside her head, taking off her glasses so she doesn’t accidentally break them. “He just doesn’t listen!”

Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.

I sigh and scratch at my eyebrow. “Why? What happened?”

I don’t want to know. It makes me furious, seeing how he treats her, but I want to be a good friend, so I’m offering her a shoulder to cry on.

Kara takes a deep breath before sitting up. She looks like a bug wiggling its legs in the air while doing so, but she manages to do it and sinks back into the cushions, her head landing on my shoulder.

It’s a familiar position and even though I know it’s friendly on her part, I can’t help the butterflies that erupt in my stomach every time she’s this close.

She smells like floral perfume and liquor, the latter being a little overwhelming for my sensitive nose, but I couldn’t care less. All that matteres right now is that she’s comfortable and safe.

God, what would the world do if they saw Supergirl in this state? Wasted over a fight with her boyfriend. . .

I shake my head and force myself not to think like that. Kara isn’t just Supergirl; perfect, charming and selfless. She’s also Kara and she, like everyone else, isn’t perfect.

“We were dealing with some bank robbers earlier,” she starts, still slurring her words but sounding more sober than before, “and I told him— I TOLD him— I had it under control, but he swooped in anyway.”

Yup, that sounds like him.

I have the same powers he has, but I don’t want to be a superhero. I just want to live a normal life, just like I’ve always wanted, even back on Daxam, and because I now have the freedom to choose, I choose to work as a manager and barista at Noonan’s. I like connecting with people and the simplicity of the job, which makes it perfect.

From time to time I do help the DEO of course, but only if I really have to. Otherwise I stick to my new, boring life.

I hum in acknowledgment and wait for Kara to continue.

“They got away with the money,” she says, “and I got a slab of concrete hurled at me. . . And then he has the audacity to accuse me of letting them get away, as if I didn’t have to use my body to shield them and prevent him from accidentally killing them with that piece of concrete!”

“I— Wow.” Is all I can manage to say and when I look to my left I’m startled to find Kara looking up at me with big, puppy dog eyes.

“Why can’t he just listen?” she whispers, her eyes darting between mine. “I mean, you listen. You always listen. Why can’t he?”

I swallow thickly and look at my hands in my lap. Mon El and I might be twins, but that’s where the similarities end.

I feel myself getting hot under Kara’s intense stare, so clear my throat and mumble, “I don’t know, Kara. But I’m sorry he’s acting like this.”

I would never do something like that to you.

I don’t say that because we’re just friends and because I’m not going to be the one who ruins their relationship.

Kara sighs and rests her head back on my shoulder, closing her eyes. She wraps her arms around my arm and within seconds her breathing evens out and I know she’s asleep.

Damn you, Mon El . . .

I shift around until I can get out of her embrace, carefully directing her so she’s lying on the couch. I take off her shoes and drape a thin blanket over her, knowing full well that she won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.

Now

I cough and blink my eyes open. Everything is white and blurry, so I rub my eyes with my hands.

A familiar face swims in front of me and when I blink a couple of times, it comes into focus.

“Brainy?” I ask, coughing once more. “Are we back in the 31st century?”

He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. “No. There have been some. . . complications.”

My eyebrows shoot up and I step out of the cryo-pod. My clothes are sticking to my body and I gladly accept the stack of dry clothes Brainy holds out. “What kind of complications? Where’s Mon El? Is he still asleep?”

Brainy’s eye twitches in a telltale way and he turns around when I start taking off my shirt. “No, he is awake. He is out looking for a power source for the ship.”

I narrow my eyes at the back of his head and finish changing, running a hand through my damp hair. “Where exactly is he? I know there something you’re not telling me, Brainy.”

He peaks over his shoulder to make sure I’m decent before turning back around. “There is nothing I’m not telling you, Y/N.“

I scoff and brush past him to the ships main computer to see what’s going on. Before I can get my hands on the control panel though, he slips in front of me, blocking my view.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

I raise an eyebrow. “What am I doing? What are you doing? Move, please.”

He shakes his head and grimaces. “I can’t do that.”

Frustration bubbles in the pit of my stomach and I clench my jaw so as to not snap at him. “Why not? What is going on?!”

Brainy opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water, but nothing comes out.

“Brainy, I swear—“

“Y/N.”

I spin around at the familiar voice and glare at my brother who’s dressed in his red Legion suit.

“Mon El.” I acknowledged him with a nod and send Brainy one last glare before asking, “What’s going on? Where are we? Or should I say when are we?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ve got what we need and we should be back home in no time,” he replies and when my eyes drop to his hands I realize he’s holding a power cell.

Why is no one telling me what is going on?

My frustration turns into anger when Mon El tries to move past me without elaborating, so I grab his arm and yank him back.

“Either you tell me what’s going on right now, or I’m leaving the ship to find out myself!” I seethe through gritted teeth and it fills me with satisfaction to see him flinch ever so slightly.

He quickly reassumes his unfazed demeanor though and calmly replies, “Look, you weren’t supposed to wake up before I got back. We’re not home yet, which is all that matters, but I have what we need to get back, so don’t worry.”

I’m about to lunge at him when Imra boards the ship, also dressed in her Legion suit.

So they were out together. . .

“Mon El, Kara told me—“

She freezes when her eyes land on me and when it registers what she just said my heart drops. I let go of Mon El’s arm and turn to face her with shaking hands. “What did you just say?”

It’s almost a whisper but because it’s dead silent right now, Imra hears me.

“Y/N. You’re awake,” she says carefully, her eyes darting between me and Mon El.

“Yeah, no shit.” I take big step forward so I’m face to face with her, pointing at her chest. “Now tell me. What were you going to say?“

She swallows thickly, looking like a deer caught in headlights and when I don’t back down, her eyes drop to the floor and she mumbles, “Kara wanted me to tell Mon El that Winn managed to locate another power cell, should we need one that is. . .”

My jaw drops and my heart races in my chest. I spin around and stare at Mon El in disbelief.

“Kara?” I croak. “Kara?!“

Mon El sets down the power cell and hols out his hands to calm me down, but I’m way past the point of being calmed down now. “Y/N, please don’t make a big deal out of this. I—“

“No, you don’t get to talk to me like that!” I cried, feeling tears well up in my eyes. “How dare you not tell me we were back?”

His face is contorted into a conflicted grimace, and he tries to come up with an excuse, but I’m not having it.

“You weren’t going to wake me up, were you? You weren’t ever going to tell me about this, were you?” My voice breaks more and more as I continue speaking until I’m a crying mess.

“Y/N. . .” Imra places a hand on my shoulder, but I shrug her off, taking several steps back to glare at all three of my supposed friends.

“No, just stop,” I choke out, wiping at my tears. “I’ve waited, hoped, seven years for this moment, and you weren’t going to say anything.“

I stare at each of them for an explanation, or a reason as to why they weren’t going to tell me, but no one says anything, so I square my shoulders and use my sleeve to tame the never ending stream of tears.

“Wow. So much for family,” I scoff and make my way to the ship’s door. No one dares to stop me and as soon as I step outside, there’s only one thing left on my mind: Finding Kara.

Seven Years Ago

“Here you go.” I smile and hand Maya, one of our regulars, her coffee over the counter. She reciprocates the smile and thanks me before leaving.

I grab the next ticket and look it over, seeing that I only have to make a cappuccino and a hot chocolate.

I get to work, moving flawlessly around the space next to my coworker Conan, only to be pulled to the side when I go out back to grab a new crate of coffee beans.

“Kara, what the hell?” I shriek when I see the blonde grinning at me. She’s wearing her Supergirl suit and her blonde hair looks windswept.

“Hi!”

I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose and set down the coffee beans. “You can’t just sneak up on someone like that. One of these days I’m going to have a heart attack because of you,” I say, my lips twitching when she scratches her neck in embarrassment.

“You’re right I’m sorry,” she says, her smile not faltering, “even though I don’t think you could even have a heart attack if you tried.”

I roll my eyes playfully and pull her into a hug. She laughs and hugs back, and I’m pretty sure if I were human she would have broken my neck by now.

“Don’t get smart with me,” I warn with a chuckle when we pull back and she just smiles, tucking a stand of hair behind her ear. “So, what brings you by? Not my idiot brother again, I hope.”

Kara grimaces and shifts awkwardly. “Actually that’s exactly why I came by.”

I deflate and force myself to ignore the hurt that always claws at my heart when she talks about her relationship with Mon El. “Oh, alright then. What happened?”

For the first time ever, she seems to pick up on my change in mood pertaining this particular topic and she frowns. However, when I raise an eyebrow expectantly she clears her throat and a tentative smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “Well, I. . . I broke up with him.”

My eyes widen and I can’t stop a confused, “Why?” from slipping past my lips.

It was probably not the reaction she was expecting because she falters and starts nervously tugging at her skirt. “I-I just realized we don’t working together and he is just so different and— I thought you’d be happy for me.”

Seeing her pout I’m quick to grab her hands and make her look at me. “No, no, no. I am happy for you. I just— I thought maybe he broke your heart and you were sad about it and— I’m sorry. I’m glad you’re okay, and I’m glad you’re happy. That’s all that matters.”

Uncertainty flits across her face and her blue eyes search my face when she asks, “Really?”

I nod and squeeze her hands with a soft smile. “Really.”

Kara beams the next second and throws her arms around my neck. “You’re the best friend ever. How about we go out and celebrate tonight? I’ll ask Alex, Lena, and Sam to come, too.”

My heart breaks a little at the word friend, but I don’t let it show when I agree. “Sure. Just text me when and where and I’ll be there.”

“Yay!” Kara giggles and pulls back, her face lit up with happiness.

I smile fondly at the sight, feeling my heart flutter before scolding myself.

Stop, she’s your friend. Nothing else.

I sigh and gesture behind me. “I should get back to work.”

“Of course!” Kara’s eyes widen in realization, but she doesn’t lose her smile.

I return a half-hearted smile and get back to work, hearing the whooshing of her taking off just as the door closes behind me.

Since she broke up with Mon El three months ago, Kara has been around even more than before.

She shows up at Noonan’s daily just to chat which has gotten her in trouble with Snapper more often than not, and she spends most nights on my couch, passed out from her Supergirl duties.

Tonight was game night at her place and everyone except me has already left, leaving behind empty beer bottles and candy wrappers.

It was fun and filled with friendly competition, leaving a lingering warm feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I pick up the empty wine glass Lena drank out of and take it to the kitchen along with some empty beer bottles.

“I told you, you don’t have to do that,” Kara says, joining me in the kitchen with the empty popcorn bowl.

I shrug her off and take the bowl from her, placing it in the dishwasher before wiping my hands on my pants. “And I told you, I don’t mind.”

Kara’s blue eyes soften and she crosses her arms, her hands disappearing in the sleeves of her (my) sweatshirt. She borrowed it one night after showing up at my apartment covered in soot and ash, and she hasn’t returned it since.

The longer she watches me, the more nervous I get and I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose. “So, uh— How’s life?” I ask awkwardly which makes Kara chuckle.

She tilts her head adorably and smiles. “I can’t complain. How about you? How’s Maya?”

I cringe inwardly at the mention of Maya and shake my head with a soft laugh. We went on one date a couple of weeks ago because she asked me out, but I’m too hung up on the blonde in front of me, so I let Maya down gently.

Weirdly enough, Kara hasn’t stopped pestering me about it even though I keep telling her that there’s nothing going on between Maya and I.

“She’s fine I think. I told you I haven’t spoken to her since our date,” I say, drawing shapes on the counter next to me.

Kara raises an eyebrow and her eyes hold something I can’t quite place. “Well, is there someone else then?”

It’s a little weird how interested she is in my love life lately, but I try not to read too much into it.

“No,” I say quietly and Kara uncrosses her arms with a satisfied smile.

“Good. I don’t like sharing my best friend,” she says, placing a hand on my chest.

I swallow thickly and bite the inside of my cheek. “Yup.”

Kara squeezes my shoulder and moves past me, getting comfortable on the couch and looking at me expectantly when I don’t follow.

We usually watch a movie together after everyone’s already gone, but I don’t feel like staying tonight because it just hit me that she’ll never see me as anything other than a friend.

After she broke up with Mon El I thought I might get my chance with her after all, but now I know that that won’t be the case and all I want to do is go home and wallow in self pity.

“Actually, I think I’m going to head home, too,” I mumble, looking down as I drag myself to the door to put on my shoes and jacket.

Kara jumps off the couch and hurries toward me. “What? Why?”

I sigh and glance at her, seeing the confusion and hurt on her face.

“I’m pretty tired and I have an early shift tomorrow morning,” I say, pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose again.

“O-Okay,” Kara stutters and I only hug her briefly before leaving, ignoring the way her eyes burn into the back of my head as I step into the elevator.

Now

I fly over National City, admiring the twinkling lights in the dark of the night as I make my way to a familiar apartment.

It’s cold and a few snowflakes land and melt on my face as I continue flying, but I ignore them and close my eyes briefly, taking a deep breath of fresh air.

The last time I was here, my lung felt like it was on fire but since being cured of my lead allergy in the 31st century, that is no longer an issue.

I descend slowly when I get close to my destination, feeling nervousness rise up in the pit of my stomach.

What if she doesn’t want to see me? What if she moved on? I mean, it’s been seven years. . .

Seven Years Ago

“What are we going to do?” Kara asks desperately, pacing back and forth.

We’re at the DEO, trying to figure out what to do about my mother’s attempt at invading the planet.

Alex looks to be deep in thought and Winn and Lena are talking in hushed voices a few steps away.

“Well, we could always use the device Lillian—“

Alex gets cut off immediately by Kara starting her down. “Absolutely not. We have to think of something else.”

I frown and glance at Clark who’s silently watching the whole scene unfold next to a defeated looking Mon El.

“What device?” I ask and when Alex and Kara go on bickering I ask again, this time louder and a little more aggressive. “What device?!”

No one says anything for a second but then Winn clears his throat and steps forward. “Lena and Lilian came up with a fail safe device that releases trace amounts of lead into the atmosphere when activated.”

I regret asking and immediately know why Kara doesn’t want to use it. It wouldn’t only force my mother and all the other Daxamites to leave, but also Mon El and me.

“I’m going to fight Rhea, and I’m going to win. There’s no other option. We’re not going to use that thing.” Kara states with a huff and it seems as though a decision has been made, but before anyone can leave I step forward with squared shoulders.

“No, you are not fighting our poor excuse of a mother,” I say calmly. “We are using the device. No one else has to get hurt and if it means Mon El and I have to leave as well, then so be it. Right?”

I look at Mon El and despite not seeing eye to eye on most things, he agrees with me and nods solemnly.

Kara whips around and glares at me. “We can’t just—“

“Yes you can,” I interrupt, turning to Alex before Kara can say anything else. “Get the device ready. Mon El and I will get our affairs in order and return to the DEO as soon as possible. You said Kara’s spaceship is still in working order, right? We’ll use it to get off Earth as soon as the lead is released.”

Alex pulls me in for a hug and lets out a shuddering breath but agrees to the plan and orders Winn and Lena to finish making the distributor.

Clark regards me with reverence and bows slightly, leaving shortly after to help in the ongoing fight against the invasion.

Mon El leaves too, shaking Alex’s hand and hugging Kara briefly, leaving me behind with the two sisters.

“I can’t believe you just did that!” Kara seethes, jabbing me in the chest with her finger. “I can fight Rhea. I can win!”

“No!” I argue, shoving her hand away and taking a step back. “You can’t win. My mother fights dirty and you will lose and I won’t let that happen. Not when there’s something I can do about it.”

Alex watched us with an uncomfortable look on her face before deciding she’s seen enough. She wordlessly slips out of the room and makes sure the door is properly shut behind her.

“Well, I’m not going to let you jet off into space with nowhere to go. You will die out there!” Kara spits through gritted teeth, the vein on her forehead pulsing dangerously.

“You don’t know that! But I know that you will get hurt if you fight my mother!” I shout and it makes her flinch because I’ve never raised my voice at her.

“But I can try! Why won’t you just let me do this?”

“Because I love you!”

I slap my hand over my mouth and watch as Kara’s eyes widen.

Well, I guess it’s out there now. . .

I sigh and take off my glasses, folding them before sliding them into my pocket.

“I love you, Kara, and not in a best friend kind of way. I won’t let you get hurt.”

Kara gapes at me and when she doesn’t say anything I clench my jaw and brush past her. “Now if you’ll excuse me I have to go home and get my affairs in order. There’s not much time left.”

Hurt claws at my throat when I leave the stunned superhero behind and I don’t try to stop the oncoming wave of tears.

I knew she didn’t think of me as more than a friend, but her blatant rejection of my feelings just now hurts more than anything I’ve ever felt before.

There’s not much I have to do when I get home because there isn’t much I can take with me, but I do sign the lease of the apartment over to my coworker Conan. He’s been looking for a new place to stay for a couple of months now and the apartment is payed off until the end of the year.

I also sign a resignation letter for work and put it on the kitchen counter next to my spare set of keys.

I’m just about to take some of the picture frames off the wall when I notice a nearing, familiar heartbeat.

I turn around just in time to see Kara coming in through the window with tears streaming down her face.

“What—“

I get cut off by a pair of lips on my own and my eyes widen before slamming shut.

Kara’s desperately pulling me closer by the back of my neck and I have to place my hands on her hips to stop myself from toppling into her.

She kissed me passionately and frantically, and I wince when I taste her salty tears.

I push at her hips, effectively breaking the kiss and stare at her questioningly. “What are you doing, Kara?”

I can’t let her play with my heart. Not now when I’m about to leave.

Another tear makes its way down her cheek and I fight the urge to wipe it away. She looks utterly hopeless and broken and when she whispers, “I love you, too’” the world stops spinning for a moment.

“It’s why I broke up with Mon El in the first place. You get me like no one else does. You listen to what I say and you’re kind, and modest, and your soul is beautiful. I can’t just let you leave. I-I want to go on dates with you. I want to hold your hand and wake up next to you. I want to make you breakfast in bed and kiss you until you’re breathless. Please don’t leave. Please. . .”

I feel my bottom lip tremble and squeeze my eyes shut. That is what I’ve wanted to hear for so long, and it’s so unfair that it’s just a little too late now.

“Kara, I can’t,” I whisper, opening my eyes again to find her blue eyes already on me.

She whimpers and surges forward, capturing my lips in another heated kiss.

I don’t fight her at all, pulling her closer by her waist until there’s virtually no space left between us.

Her lips are soft and warm, even though they’re moving against mine quite aggressively, and I sigh against her mouth when she buries her fingers in my hair and tugs me even closer.

I could get lost in this kiss and if it weren’t for the sudden burning sensation in my lungs I probably would have.

My grip on her waist involuntarily tightens and I pull back to double over and cough violently. It feels like I’m breathing fire and my throat closes, making me wheeze.

They released the lead.

I look up with tears in my eyes to find Kara watching me in horror.

“No, please. Not now,” she says, desperately cupping my cheeks.

She raises a hand to the comms device in her ear and frantically says something to the person on the other end. I’m assuming it’s Alex, but I can’t focus on what’s being said because the next time I cough, I’m coughing up blood.

It runs down the side of my mouth and I’m suddenly too weak to wipe it away, so Kara does it with alarm written all over her face.

She grabs me around the waist and hoists me over her shoulder, dashing out of the window within the blink of an eye.

The position is a little awkward and uncomfortable but I can’t focus on anything other than trying to get enough air in my lungs.

When we touch down on a field in the middle of nowhere, I see Mon El is already there, waiting and coughing next to Kara’s spaceship.

Kara sets me down gently and cups my cheeks again. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I shake my head and press a kiss to the inside of one of her wrists, my hands landing on her hips as I sway dangerously on my feet.

I’m too weak to say anything so I just smile weakly, hoping it’s enough to show her that I’m not mad.

“I love you,” she chokes out, pulling out a necklace from beneath her suit. I realize it’s her mother’s and I try to pull away when she presses it into one of my hands. I can’t take something so valuable from her, but she just nods her head adamantly and pleads, “Take this. . . take this, please. It will keep you safe.”

I give in and cough again, holding my breath when she presses her lips against mine one last time.

When she pulls back and pushes me toward the ship, her face is twisted in agony and I know there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her not to feel this way.

But there’s nothing I can do, so I get into the ship behind Mon El, clutching her necklace against my chest as the hood materializes above us and we start to ascend.

I mouth I love you, and watch her shrinking figure through the glass. She waves goodbye and I almost break down completely at the sight of her watery smile.

Now

I land on Kara’s balcony, suddenly no longer sure about whether or not I want to do this, but then I see her through the window.

She’s curled up on the couch with a thin blue blanket draped over her. The TV is off and she’s not on her phone either, making me frown and wonder what she’s doing but then I see her wiping her cheek with the back of her hand.

My heart drops at the sight of her looking so dejected and I step forward without thinking and knock on the door.

She freezes for a second before slowly looking up. Her eyes widen when the land on me and she stumbles to her feet, almost tripping over the blanket in her haste to get to the door.

She flings it open, breathing heavily and staring at me with her bloodshot eyes.

“Hey,” I whisper softly and it takes only a couple of seconds for her to throw her arms around my neck and sob into my shoulder.

For the first time in seven years it feels like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders and I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her infinitely closer.

The familiar smell of her vanilla shampoo makes my own eyes sting and I choke out a sob.

“You’re here,” she says against my skin, refusing to let go. “I don’t understand. Mon El said you stayed in the future.”

I want to be angry at that revelation, but I just can’t be when I have her in my arms. I press a kiss to her temple and let my lips linger for a moment. “No, I’m here. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere ever again.”

Kara’s arms around me tighten and I bend down to pick her up by the back of her legs, carrying her inside.

She wraps her legs around my waist as I close the door behind us, and breathes heavily against my neck.

I move toward the couch and sit down, holding her in my lap as she continues to cling to me.

We stay like that until her sobs die down and she pulls back to look me in the eyes. Her hands cup my cheeks and she traces her thumbs over my cheekbones.

“I love you,” she croaks and I let out a shaky breath, pressing my forehead against hers.

My hands find their way to her hips and I squeeze carefully, whispering, “I love you, too.”

Kara brushes her nose against mine and pecks my lips tentatively. It sends sparks through my body and I respond immediately and move forward for more.

She hums, satisfied, and deepens the kiss by tugging at my bottom lip with her teeth. I gasp in surprise and she uses the opportunity to slip her tongue past my lips and brush it against my own.

It’s a feeling I’ve been craving since she kissed me for the first time and I haven’t stopped thinking about it for the past seven years.

Much too soon for my liking, Kara pulls back. She rests her hands on my chest and traces her index finger along the chain of the necklace she gave me. “Listen, I know it’s been seven years for you, but you have to know that it’s only been seven months for me since you left,” she reveals quietly and I feel my stomach drop when she adds, “So, you know, I get it if you’ve moved on. I mean, Mon El got married, so surely you—“

I cut her off with a soft kiss, letting my lips trail over her cheek and jaw before they land on her neck.

I nip slightly at her sensitive skin, drawing a barely audible moan from her before pulling back completely to meet her eyes.

“I would wait a lifetime if it meant I got to see you again,” I admit, my eyes darting between hers. Then to lighten the mood, I joke, “But I sure hope you haven’t moved on yet because if you have you’re going to be in quite a bit of trouble.”

The smile that lights up her face makes my heart flutter and she quickly shakes her head, denying that she’s seeing anyone.

“I haven’t gotten over you since you left and I honestly don’t know if I ever would have, but that doesn’t matter anymore. You’re here now and I’m not letting you go again.” She whispers that last part and closes the distance between us again to press a kiss to my neck right below my ear.

It makes me shudder and when she smiles against my skin, knowing exactly the effect she has on me, I pinch her side playfully.

She giggles and trails kisses up the side of my face, all the way across my forehead and down my nose until her lips land on mine in a short peck.

“So, what now? What’s going to happen to you and the Legion?” she asks, finding my hand to play with the Legion ring.

I shrug and trace patterns on her lower back with my unoccupied hand. “I will have some words with Mon El and the others about not waking me up, but I can promise you that I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. You’re stuck with me now.”

Kara laughs softly and squeezes my hand, wiggling forward on my lap so she can rest against my chest, her head tucked into the crook of my neck. “Good because I really want to go on dates with you and make you breakfast in bed.”

I smile and kiss the top of her head. “I can’t wait.”

________________________________________________

Jesus, that was a long one, but I needed a break from No Matter What. . .

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Celestial

Summary: Snapshots of your relationship with Kamala Khan. This story takes place in the Family AU.

Warning: fluff, small amount of angst, mention of panic attack, self harm, first kiss, shovel talks, Kamala is head over heals for the reader and the reader is trying their best, mention of past trauma

Note: Tagging @jusnough for the idea!

Word Count: 4.2K

It wasn’t the most ideal of timing. A lot was happening, especially with the trail you were preparing for. Your parents were stressed. You were stressed, which was 100% understandable, but Kamala wanted to plan something special and then maybe ask you to be her girlfriend. Baby steps. She couldn’t get ahead of herself. There was a plan. First, ask your parents permission to date you. Second, she needed to survive the shovel talk they no doubt had for her. Third, ask Tony for a favor. Finally, take you on a date and make it a great day. Easy. Simple. Kamala was going to throw up.

She found your parents in the kitchen. You had a checkup with Helen, so it was a perfect time to walk to them. Natasha saw her first while Wanda focused on the lunch she was making. “She should be done soon,” the Black Widow said to her. “She’s with Helen.”

“I know,” Kamala said. “I was wondering if I could speak with the both of you.” Natasha raised an eyebrow in question. Kamala believed she was fearless. She fought alongside the Avengers, looked danger in the eye, and did not back down. It was impressive for a high school student. Starring down your parents was a new level of fear she’d never experienced. “I want to take Y/n on a date, and I know she has a lot going on, but I want to do something nice for her,” the couple stayed quiet. “She means a lot to me,” Kamala decided to continue. “I don’t know everything she has been through, but I know I’d never hurt her like that. I mean, I may hurt her. But not intentionally,” she added on quickly. “I am sometimes an idiot,” Wanda chuckled. “I think I should shut up.”

“Probably for the best kid,” Natasha smirked. Kamala cringed and scratched the back of her head. The Black Widow leaned on the counter and narrowed her eyes at Kamala. “You are about our daughter,” Kamala nodded. “Being with her won’t be easy.”

“She’s been through a lot,” Kamala turned to look at Wanda. Some days may be good, others may be bad.” Again, she nodded her head. Kamala knew healing wasn’t linear, but she was ready to catch you when you needed her. “She may lash out, shut you out, or blame you for feelings she can’t place.”

“Are you committed to that?” Natasha asked.

“Yes,” Kamala answered without hesitation. It was not going to be easy, and she knew that. Even her friends told her to stay away, and she tried. But there was something about you that kept drawing her in: your shy smile, the soft look in your eyes when you hung out with your brothers, and your laugh. Your laugh was Kamala’s favorite. She loved hearing it.

“Okay,” Natasha said. But if you hurt her, not even Danvers will save you.” Kamala gulped and watched the couple focus back on making lunch.

“Right, got it. Aye, aye, captain,” Kamala gave them a salute, spun around, and headed towards Tony’s lab. Phase 1 and 2 was a success onto Phase 3.

Delete Created with Sketch.

Natasha sighed once Kamala was out of earshot. “What is it?” Wanda asked, nudging the Black Widow with her hip. Is it hard to believe our daughter is dating?”

“No,” she washed her hands and dried them. “Well, yes, but that means Hill won the bet.” The witch laughed and shook her head. She was not part of the bet between the older team members on how soon Kamala would ask you out. Natasha had her bets on after the trial, but the heart wants what the heart wants. Wanda knew how good Kamala was for you, but the mother bear inside her worried. You’ve gone through so much. She wanted to protect your heart as much as she could.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Calm down,” Kate said. That was the opposite effect the archer was going for. It heightened your anxiety as you passed back and forth in her room at the Avenger tower.

“I don’t know what to do,” you said. “I’ve never been on a date before. Kamala approached you and asked if you wanted to hang out with her. You were to be ready at noon, and Happy would drive you to this secret location. She gave you no clue on where you were going. You were oblivious to this being a date until you turned around and saw the smirks on Tommy and Billy’s faces.

The twins teased you until you were a stuttering mess, which got them grounded. This caused you to panic, which led you here with Kate.

“Bug, I need you to breathe,” Kate said as if it was the simplest thing, but you couldn’t. You’ve gone on one ‘date’ since the Blip, and that was with Jason. That needed horribly. Everyone took something from you; they took and took until you were a husk of your former self. “It’s only Kamala.” It was a simple statement that was supposed to lessen your anxiety, but it made it worse. “Sit down,” you sat next to her, but your leg continued to bounce.

“Do you trust her?” You nodded. She’s done nothing to break your trust. “Does she make you smile? Laugh? Do you feel at ease when you are around her?” Again, you nodded. “Do you like her?”

“Yes,” you admitted.

“Then enjoy your day with her. You guys are just hanging out,” you nodded and stood up. Once again, you started to pace. At this point, you would pace a hole in the floor.

“Right,” you bite your thumb. “What do I wear?” You walked over to the archer’s closet. You had a limited wardrobe here, but you knew you could wear something that Kate or Yelena owned.

“Keep it casual. Maybe jeans and a cute top. Oh! Bring that sweater Wanda gifted you. You might get cold.” Your brain slowly processed what she said. She knew where Kamala was taking you. You spun around to face the archer. Kate was looking at everything in her room beside you.

“Where is she taking me?”

“I’ve sworn to secrecy and threatened by bodily harm if I told you.”

“Kate!” You whined and flopped on the bed next to her. She laughed at your dramatics and pushed you on your back.

“You are so cute when you throw a tantrum,” she pointed at your cheek. Your pout deepened. “Trust, bug. Trust that she knows you well enough to not push you out of your comfort zone.” You nodded. In reality, you wanted the date to go well. With the upcoming trial, you wanted to have a good day.

“I’m thinking about the blue jeans and the light pink top. The sweater will go nice with both.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The ride to the mysterious location was fun. You thought it would be awkward with Happy, but Kamala filled the silence with stories. When the car stopped, Kamala was quick to get out first. She opened your door, offered you her hand, and you took it. You stood at the corner of Central Park West and West 76th Street. Kamala spoke with Happy before he drove away. “Ready?” She asked you. You nodded and followed her to the American Museum of National History. You were surprised by the lack of people waiting to get in. A new exhibit opened about the advancement in modern medicine. You’ve been dying to go, but the increase in popularity caused considerable crowds to form at the museum.

Kamala gave you a reassuring smile and led you up the steps of the museum. Her hand is still holding tight onto yours. It was quiet when she opened the door, and no one was in the lobby. “Kamala Khan?” A worker walked over. It would help if you had listened to try to understand what was happening, but you were fascinated by how quiet it was. You could hear the slight hum of the air conditioning. There was no yelling of excited children or the echo of footsteps moving from one exhibit to the next. It was quiet, and you enjoyed it. A weight was lifted off your chest. The tingly feeling you sometimes felt when you were in crowds was gone.

Kamala squeezed your hand, and you looked at the girl. A teasing smile was on her face. “Were you talking to me?”

“I was but you seemed a little distracted,” you felt your body heat up and you mumbled a quiet, ‘Sorry.’ But Kamala shook her head. “Don’t be. Come on. The exhibit you want to see is over here.” You let the girl guide you.

“Kamala,” you said and forced her to stop. You could make a sign explaining the new pop-up. “What is going on? How are we the only people here?” Kamala looked down at the floor, embarrassed.

“I rented out the museum for us. We are going to walk through each exhibit for as long as you want, and then a few of the workers are going to set up food for us. Wanda made your favorite,” she explained. You were a little lost for words. They seemed stuck in the back of your throat. However, Kamala took your silence as rejection. “If you want to do something else, we can.”

“No!” You said suddenly. “Sorry,” you cringed at the sound echoing on the museum walls. “Why did you do this?” Kamala shrugged.

“You mentioned you wanted to see this exhibit but were worried about the crowds,” you mentioned it once. You made an offhand comment while you and Kamala were eating lunch at the tower. She finished training, but you weren’t sure if she was listening. She was. “I asked Tony for a favor, and he pulled some strings, so here we are.”

“I uh-,” you cleared your throat, desperately trying to keep your tears from escaping your eyes. “Thank you.” A smile formed on Kamala’s face, and you allowed yourself to feel butterflies form in your stomach.

“You’re welcome. Come on, let’s see why this exhibit is so cool and popular.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Kamala was not a fan of museums. You could tell she was trying hard to take in the information you were telling her. For the most part, she was doing well, and she wasn’t rushing you. She let you take your time - reading each plague and adding your commentary. You decided to cut her some slack when her stomach growled for food. How embarrassed she got was cute and led to where the food was. A table was set up in the Invisible Worlds display. The colors weren’t as bright and intense, but it was a unique experience to be here with no one else.

“Wanda helped me make paprikash,” Kamala said, pulling back your chair for you and taking her own when you sat down. “So if it’s horrible, blame her.” You chuckled and opened the food container. It was still warm and smelt great.

“Thank you for today,” you smiled. “I’ve been having a great time.” She took a few sips of her water and cleared her throat.

“I know you have a lot going on,” she offered you her hand, and you took it. “But I wanted to give you one good day and ask if you want to be my girlfriend,” you couldn’t stop the surprise noise that escaped your lips.

“Dating me won’t be easy,” you told her. “I come with a lot of baggage.”

“It’s a good thing I’m so strong,” she flexed her free arm. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile on her face. “Seriously though, I want to be there for you and help carry some of that baggage.”

You weren’t sure how to give your baggage to someone. You had a track record of picking ones that hurt you. But Kamala was different. Kate made you admit how easy it was to be around her. She made you smile and laugh. You felt safe. “I may fuck this up,” Kamala smiled.

“Are you saying us?” You nodded.

“I am saying yes,” you smiled. “I am saying yes to being your girlfriend.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Kamala was multitasking, which wasn’t her strongest suit. She was trying to make you and her a plate of food while keeping an eye on you. She knew you would be quiet after the trial, but she was still worried. You seemed lost in thought while you sat near the fire pit. It wasn’t lit, but you were watching it as if the flames were there. “You are holding up the line,” Yelena said. Kamala jumped.

“Sorry, I was-”

“It is fine,” Yelena said, following her gaze to you. It was Billy’s turn to try to pull you out of whatever your mind was creating. “You are worried, I understand,” Yelena said, taking the plate meant for you and helping Kamala add to it.

“I’ve been waiting for you to come up to me,” Kamala saw the smirk on Yelena’s face. “Am I going to survive this shovel talk?”

“I am not going to threaten bodily harm, or my niece would never forgive me,” Kamala was thankful that the Romanoff-Maximoff family accepted you into their home. “This has been the happiest I’ve seen her in a long time; Kamala watched the Blonde put butter on a piece of corn for you. “Her heart has been broken by people who were supposed to protect it,” she sighed and looked at you. The Bartons were now with you. “I am surprised she was strong enough to offer it to someone else. You must be special,” Yelena handed the now full plate back to her. “Don’t misplace that trust.”

“I won’t,” Kamala said before Yelena could walk away. I may mess up, but I would never be like the others.” The Blonde looked over her shoulder, scanning Kamala up and down.

“I know,” the Black Widow smirked. “Just keep it that way, or there will be consequences.”

“I thought you said no to bodily harm,” Kamala called out after her. She heard Yelena laugh.

“I am a Black Widow,” she said. “I can do more than hurt you physically.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Maybe Kamala was overthinking it. Your phone could have died, you could have been sick, or something bad happened, and no one was telling her. It was strange that you missed a scheduled date and weren’t answering your phone. So it was a quick taxi ride from the tower to your house, and she was knocking on the front door. “Kamala,” Wanda answered the door. What are you doing here?”

“Is she here?” Kamala asked. “We were supposed to meet up, and she isn’t answering me, so I just need to make sure she’s okay and safe,” Wanda gave her a sad smile and stepped to the side. Kamala walked in and followed the witch into the kitchen.

“She’s in her room,” Wanda said, pouring her a glass of water and beginning to prepare a small board of snacks. “It’s not her intention to ignore you, but today was a bad day.”

“It’s been a bad day,” Kamala said slowly back and took a piece of cheese that Wanda offered. She remembered Wanda telling her that some days were bad. Wanda crossed her arms and leaned on top of the counter.

“With everything she’s been through, some days are better than others,” the witch sighed. “She had therapy this morning, so maybe that caused it, or it could have been a nightmare or none of the above. We may never know.”

“Can I-can I go see her?” Kamala asked. Wanda smiled.

“Of course. Bring her this,” she pointed to the board. “She hadn’t eaten, but don’t be upset if she didn’t want to see you.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The world seemed to be covered in a foggy haze. Everything seemed to move slower. Your body felt heavy, and it took so much energy to go to the bathroom. You barely heard the knock on your door. “Hey, sweetheart,” it was Kamala. “Can I come in?” You rolled to your side to face the door. You hated that she was going to see you like this. You missed her and you hated yourself that you missed your date.

“Yeah,” you whispered. The door opened, and Kamala came in holding a plate of snacks and glass filled with juice.

“Hi,” she smiled and closed the door. Wanda made you a little snack platter because she said you hadn’t eaten.” Kamala placed the food on the side table. Something inside you snapped. You felt it all day, and you tried to keep it buried inside. Seeing Kamala being so nice after you ignored her all day broke it. Everything came bubbling over. A broken sob escaped your lips. “Hey, hey, why are you crying?”

“I don’t know,” you cried. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. Can I hug you? Do you need a hug?” You sat up in bed and cried harder.

“I don’t know,” you repeated. You wanted to fall into her arms and be safe, but the idea of her touching you sent shivers down your spine. Why was everything so complicated? Why were you so broken? You began to scratch at your wrists.

“I need you to stop doing that,” you heard Kamala say, but you couldn’t stop. You needed to feel anything besides this suffocating weight. Suddenly, Kamala’s hands grabbed yours, and you fought against her. “I know, I know,” Kamala cooed, pulling you against her chest. Her arms held you tightly down. “It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re safe.” Soft humming filled your ears. Your body slumped against hers, and you cried on her chest.

When your sobs quieted down, you pulled away from her. Your head was pounding, and you felt gross. “Hi, khobsurat (beautiful),” you rolled your eyes.

“I doubt I look beautiful,” Kamala shook her head.

“You will always be beautiful to me,” she could make you flustered. “Do you wanna talk about anything?” She kept her hands on her lap but was itching to hold you. Her fingers were twitching. Sighing, you held out your hand for her to take.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” you admitted.

“Like what?” she questioned. It was hard to describe this state you sometimes found yourself in. Sometimes, it felt like you were in a pile of quicksand, and no matter how hard you fought, you kept sinking. “This is a bad day for you. That’s what your mother called it.” You nodded.

“They don’t come often, but when they do, they can be depleting,” you explained. “I wanted to hang out with you today but couldn’t leave my bed. So I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” she said. “I was worried that you went radio silent, so a text would be nice,” you nodded. You could do that even though you had no idea where your phone was. “But I want to be there when it gets bad. I want to see the good, the bad, and the ugly.”

“Even when I miss dates and can’t leave my room.”

“Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “We can just sit here and watch movies as long as I’m with you. I’m happy.” She kissed the back of your hand.

“Thank you,” you smiled. It was nice having someone so patient. If you are interested, there is a new movie I want to watch.” You moved against your headboard with your arms. Immediately, Kamala moved into your arms. She sat between your legs with her back against your front. “Thank you,” you said again. It was starting to not feel like enough. Hopefully, one day, you would find more than those two words.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Something changed. You weren’t sure when it happened. You were looking at Kamala’s lips and wondering what they would feel like on yours. She has kissed you on your cheek, the back of your hand, or the top of your head. You were okay with that, but you wanted to kiss her properly. Could you do that? The last time you felt someone’s lips on yours was Dmitri. “Is that math problem that difficult?” Natasha asked. You were doing homework in her office while she was working on a few mission reports. You chuckled and closed the textbook.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked, twirling the pencil in our hand. The Black Widow nodded and moved to sit on the couch next to you.

“Ask away,” she smiled. Was it an appropriate question to ask your mom? You weren’t sure, but the relationship with your mom wasn’t normal. You continued to twirl the pencil.

“Is it weird that I want to kiss Kamala?” You asked. “Do you think it’s too soon?” You added on. You wished you had captured the look on Natasha’s face - eyes wide and shocked. But she recovered quickly. A part of you wondered if she wanted Wanda to be here for this conversation. Natasha sighed.

“I can’t tell you if it’s too soon or not. That is for you to decide,” you groaned and let your head fall back. The Black Widow laughed and pulled you back into a sitting position. “When it comes to kissing and sex, we both have a complicated relationship with it.” You frowned. Slowly, it dawned on you what she meant.

“How did you learn how to trust someone with your body like that again?” You asked. Natasha grabbed your hand and placed them on the back of the couch.

“A lot of unhealthy coping mechanisms,” the Black Widow teased. You rolled your eyes, but your frown remained on your face. “I slept around hoping it would be different, but never until I started seeing Wanda.”

“How?”

“I finally felt safe with her. She made me feel seen. So,” she cringed slightly. “If you feel those things with Kamala, then maybe it’s the right time to open yourself up to that again,” Natasha pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Don’t force it, though, Firefly. You and her have all the time in the world.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You were trying to pay attention to the story Kamala was telling. You were lying on the tower’s roof - the night sky was blanketed with stars. It was your turn to plan a date, so you decided to picnic atop the tower. It was peaceful. It felt like you and her were the only people in the city. “Why do I feel like you aren’t listening?” Kamala teased.

“Sorry,” you whispered. “I got stuck in my head.” The girl frowned. “I’m okay,” you promised and sat up to reach for your phone. Opening up Spotify, you began to play music. “Do you want to dance with me?” You asked.

“Yeah, sure, I can dance,” you giggled at her nervous rambling. You both stood up; her arms went around your waist, and you put your arms around her neck. It wasn’t really dancing; it was more like swaying side to side to the music. “I had a good time,” she broke the silence.

“Good. So did I,” you glanced at her lips but looked away. Carefully, she spun you in a circle and brought you back into her arms.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You titled her head. “Where was your head when I was telling you an amazing story?” You chuckled.

“You,” you paused. “You make me feel like my troubled heart is a million miles away. You make me feel like I’m drunk on stars and dancing out into space,” you let out a shaky breath. “When I get lost, I know your arms will be reaching out towards me.” Gently, Kamala cupped your face and forced you to look up at her. “This may go wrong,” your voice shook as your nerves got the best of you. “But can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” Kamala sighed. Time seemed to slow down as you inched closer. You could feel the warmth of her breath, and you fought your mind to stay in the present. You tried to push away the darkness that threatened to overtake it.

“Khobsurat,” she whispered, her voice pushing away the darkness. Your heart pounded in your chest, and a soft flutter stirred in your stomach - a mix of nerves and wonder. Then it happened. Her lips touched yours, gentle and tentative. It was soft, warm, and sweet, sending a cascade of warmth down your spine.

For a second, you forgot to breathe. Everything else vanished - no more nerves, no more doubt. Kamala pulled away and rested her forehead against yours.

“Thank you,” you were surprised by that. “Thank you for trusting me with this.”

“You’ve earned my trust,” you whispered. “You’ve been so patient with me. I-” you couldn’t say it yet. The words felt trapped in your throat. But Kamala nodded.

“Can I kiss you again?”

“Yes,” you smiled. This time, her kiss was more aggressive. She felt more confident in her movements. Her touch was soft against your skin. Natasha was right. This felt different. It felt full of warmth. It felt like love.

[hello-idk-what]

Why do they only focus on Tony Stark’s ptsd, trauma and mental health in general

—————————————

Steve Rogers - World War II veteran, was frozen for 70 years, lived through the Great Depression, best friend fell to death in front of him, proberly feels tremendous guilt for not searching for Bucky’s body, had abusive father in comics (you’d have to guess it was MCU cannon due to how they had no mention of his dad being otherwise)

Thor Odinson - has fought in many battles, mom was killed, dad died in front of him, had to kill his sister, lost his home, watched his brother die several times, had to fight his brother many times, was forced to rule when he didn’t wish to (“And believe me I would love for someone else to rule but is can’t be you. You’re just… the worst”)

Bruce Banner - turns into a homicidal, destructive monster

Clint Barton - was a shield agent, not much is known about him

Natasha Romanoff - Red Room, ex shield agent, the Ohio mission, never knew her family, Antonia Dreykov, guilt

Sam Wilson - ex pararescue, watched best friend fall to death

Wanda Maximoff - bombing survivor, two days stuck under rubble, human experimentation, forced to kill boyfriend, lost children, was left so horribly traumatised by killing vision that she accidentally mind controlled a small town to create a reality where everything was fine, was corrupted by the dark hold into trying to kill a child, was left hated for a accident that happens while trying to save people (Lagos), dead brother

Bucky Barnes - was kidnapped and experimented on, fell to ‘death’, was taken, had memories wiped, tortured, brainwashed, forced to kill, nearly killed best friend twice

Peter Parker - Uncle died in front of him, parents died when he was young, bullied, nearly crushed by falling building, blackmailed into fighting superheroes he was to inexperienced to fight, mentor died in front of him, aunt died in front of him, pressured into for filling a role he can’t, was forced to wipe everyone’s memories of him, lost everything

Carol Danvers - was kidnapped, had her memories wiped, was betrayed by her friend, still is recovering her memories in her second movie

Scott Lang - was kept out of his daughters life, lost years of her life to prison/thanos

Black Panther - saw his father die, almost kills a innocent man out vengeance, was nearly killed by his cousin

—————————————————

I could keep going on but I think you get the point

So many other mcu characters have trauma, many show signs of ptsd and I am a strong believer is Steve Rogers having really bad depression. My point is that there are so many other characters whose mental health the mcu could unpack but they continuously chose to not acknowledge it. Instead of fleshing out other characters via there mental health they keep choosing to shove Tony Starks daddy issues and the one time he flew into a wormhole in our face, which in my opinion was good the first time round but is now overused.

[spaceman-earthgirl]

Supercorptober 2024 Day 13: L-Corp

ao3 link. series link.

Kara hates Lex Luthor.

She hates what he did to her cousin, she hates everything he stands for, and she hates his stupid face, making him even more punchable when that’s the last thing she can do.

And now she’s on her way to interview him at Luthor Corp and she can think of nothing worse.

She almost turned down Cat’s request to interview him but then realised it was a good opportunity to give him some bad publicity, which is the least he deserves after everything he’s done.

She thinks of every bad thing he’s ever done as she walks into Luthor Corp, fuelling her rage. She wants him to know she dislikes him. She can’t do much as Kara Danvers, and she knows Cat will be unhappy if she does anything rude, but she will glare and ask him difficult questions and make him regret requesting an interview.

“Hi,” Kara smiles as she approaches the security desk. She’s mad, but she’s only going to take it out on Lex. “I’m here-“

“CatCo?” The security guard asks. Kara doesn’t get a chance to question how he knows as this eyes flash down to her badge.

“Yes,” Kara confirms.

“Take the elevator to the top floor, Jess will be able to help you.”

“Thank you,” Kara says.

All the way up, she imagines punching Lex in his stupid bald face. If she has to be in a room with him, she knows she’s going to get the urge to do it more than once.

Jess is nice, directing Kara towards the office ahead after she steps off the elevator. Kara steels herself before opening the door. She considers knocking, but Lex doesn’t deserve any courtesy from her.

The moment Kara steps into the office, she freezes, because it’s not Lex sitting at the desk.

It’s Lena Luthor, Lex’s sister. Someone she’s only seen in photos but photos do not do justice to the woman sitting in front of her. She’s gorgeous, and it’s not helping Kara’s confusion at the situation because it’s hard to think straight when she’s looking at literally the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen.

“Uhh,” Kara says, glancing towards the door. Has she made a mistake? Is she in the wrong office?

“You must be Kara Danvers,” Lena says, hand outstretched as she approaches Kara. “Lena Luthor, it’s nice to meet you.”

Kara takes the offered hand, the situation no clearer but she does note that Lena has very soft hands, even as her handshake is firm.

“I can see by your confused look that news of my arrival hasn’t spread yet. Which is good, because I wanted to give CatCo the exclusive.”

“The exclusive?” Kara asks.

“I’m taking over Luthor Corp, rebranding as L-Corp, trying to make up for what my brother has done. I want to make this company a force for good.”

Clark would say any Luthor can’t be trusted, but Kara can see it in Lena’s eyes (which are a remarkable green colour) that she’s being truthful.

Kara’s still on the back foot, but every second she spends looking at Lena, her anger dissipates. This is not how she expected today go at all.

She still want to punch Lex, but she’ll save that for later.

“Well then,” Kara smiles. “I’ll be happy to write an article about you.”

[bronzemettle]

Billy Batson and Carol Danvers both go by Captain Marvel at one point or another. Does Batson end up deferring to Danvers and going by Shazam instead, or does Danvers take up one of her dozens of old monikers? If Batson goes by Shazam, how does he introduce himself without getting zapped back into Billy form?

Billy's never gone by Shazam in the BronzeRealms. For real, how does that even work? DC does stupid shit sometimes and we all know it.

Okay, with that out of the way let's do a timeline of the name "Captain Marvel" across heroes.

In 1940, the Justice Society of America are fighting off an attempted Kree invasion when they meet and are assisted by a mysterious man who calls himself Captain Marvel, who disappears soon afterwards.

Seeing him in action also seeds thoughts of rebellious inspiration in the mind of a young Kree soldier, who takes on the callsign Mar-Vell when he's promoted to Captain after the failure of his superiors.

In 1967, Mar-Vell goes rogue from the Kree and decides to hide out on earth, seeking out the surviving Justice Society. With their help, she transitions and starts a new identity under the name Wendy Lawson, and debuts shortly later as the superhero Captain Marvel.

In 1977, Lawson retires as Captain Marvel when she accidentally attracts Kree attention to earth again. Carol Danvers takes up the mantle shortly later, after gaining powers herself. At first she isn't comfortably with the legacy and goes by Ms Marvel, but Wendy persists that Carol should be Captain Marvel, so that doesn't last long.

In 1982, Wendy Lawson dies of cancer. The funeral is attended by a majority of the active or retired superheroes at that time.

In 1989, Carol Danvers is forced to flee earth by the rising Augment regimes (Khan Noonien Singh being the most noteworthy) when one of them causes the ecological collapse of multiple Kree star systems and frames her for having caused it, which even she herself believes, as a distraction that will successfully keep her occupied in space for decades to come.

In 2003, Billy Batson is inspired by the comicbooks loosely based on the adventures of Lawson (the same comics also inspire Jean Grey and Kamala Khan) to take on the name Captain Marvel when he gets unrelated superpowers from the wizard Shazam. In following years his adoptive siblings will join him and become known as the Captain Marvel family of heroes in Fawcett City.

In 2006, Billy Batson travels back in time to World War 2 and teams up with the Justice Society of America. He doesn't recognize the pre-transition Mar-Vell as one of the soldiers he fights against. However, working alongside actual soldiers in the Justice Society and seeing what wartime superheroing was like makes him rethink the military moniker "Captain", and afterward he starts going by CM1 instead (taking after his brother going by CM3). The press, despite his protests, will continue to refer to him as Captain Marvel for years to come.

In 2009, Rick Jones briefly goes by Captain Marvel after bonding with Genis-Vell, an unstable clone of the pre-transition soldier Mar-Vell. He retires the same year and encourages Genis to transition as Lawson had. Genis becomes Phyla-Vell and briefly maintains heroics as Captain Marvel, but leaves earth within a few months to try to build a new life and find an identity distant from the homes and legacy of Lawson.

In 2015, Carol Danvers discovers she was framed for space crimes, and why, and returns to earth, only to find the Eugenics War already ended without her back in 1998, with the surviving Augments having fled into space. She joins the New Avengers (this being the aftermath of the Avengers Civil War still).

Monica Rambeau never went by Captain Marvel... at least not in the still-extant timestream. She and multiple other heroes have memories of her serving as Captain Marvel, during the 5 years and 8 months of the aborted timestream in which "The Snap" occured. These five years were "reset" and erased by the Avengers, including Monica herself, in order to bring back the half the universe that Thanos had killed, and Monica chose to not take up the mantle again.

[harleychick91]

New fic release coming

Can three quotes capture your attention enough to read a SuperCorp crime family AU?

1 The Luthors have always owned this city and none of them have ever spoken to the press directly, until now.

2 “She won’t fall because I’ll be there to catch her.”

3 “Now, you’re officially mine.”

Title: Ember in the Abyss

Rating: M

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence, death, homophobia, toxic masculinity, ableism, lesbian sex, mention of childhood trauma in a group home, depictions of torture, mention of sexual assault that does not occur, and other dark themes.

Summary: Everyone in National City knows The Luthor family is not only the leaders in medical technology but that they have a darker business as well. They’re the ones you go to when you need something done that the local government and police refuse to do anything about. Like any crime family, they have rules. One of those rules: control the press. 

Needing to pick which of his children will take over as CEO of LuthorCorp and continue the family’s other business, Lionel Luthor gives Lena an ultimatum. She is tasked with finding a partner to stand by her side and to find a reporter The Luthor’s can keep in their pocket. If she does not complete these tasks within six months, the company and business will automatically go to Lena’s older brother, Lex. 

Growing up as a disabled child in a group home, Kara Danvers has learned that things in this world aren’t always black and white. She’s seen first hand that people can be cruel and vicious given the opportunity. Unbeknownst to her, she finds herself in the crosshairs of a powerful woman she’s been attracted to for years. 

What happens when the two meet and Kara finds out exactly who Lena Luthor is?

Follow me on AO3 for updates

This story will be posted every Monday/Thursday starting 2/17/25.

All thank you’s will be in the author notes.

[waytooinvested]

Forgotten, Not Forgiven - Chapter 1

Still reeling from finding out the truth herself, Lena suddenly finds herself in the midst of an odd role reversal in which she knows that Kara is Supergirl, but Kara no longer has any idea she has ever been more than an ordinary human.

And what’s more, Lena has no choice but to keep the truth from her for her own protection…

This and previous chapters also on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alex: Have you seen Kara?

Lena glanced at her phone and raised an eyebrow at the text lighting up her screen.

That woman had such a nerve.

She ignored the message and turned back to her computer, only to have another text ping in five minutes later.

Alex: Seriously Lena, she was due back hours ago and I haven’t heard anything. I need to know where she is.

Lena huffed irritably, but gave in.

Lena: I have no idea where she is. Kara and I are no longer friends, remember? I’m sure she’ll turn up in her own time.

Lena: We both know she can look after herself.

Alex didn’t respond again, so naturally Lena assumed that Kara had indeed turned up in her own time, and that everything had been fine after all.

That is, until she saw the headline in the news a week later:

SUPERGIRL MISSING?

She almost didn’t click the link.

Since she had found out the truth about Kara three months ago, Lena had done her best to comprehensively uproot the weed of their friendship from her life, and so far had been reasonably successful.

She had deleted Kara’s number from her phone before she had even made it back to her jet after her run in with Lex.

On the flight home she had called her assistant and asked her to make sure that Kara Danvers was escorted off the premises immediately should she show up at L-Corp, and had left a similar message with the security staff in her apartment complex.

Selling Catco had taken a little longer, but only because dealing with such a large asset could not be rushed. She might have been in pain, but Lena was a shrewd business woman and ensured that the sale was made with a hefty profit, the value of the company boosted by the revenue generation improvements she had made while in charge. She had also wanted to take her time to pick the perfect boss for Kara: someone who would inarguably make the magazine more profitable as a business than it had ever been before, while systematically and comprehensively destroying everything about it that had made Kara love her job there.

The new three year contracts with a non-compete clause thrown in had been a nice touch.

She could have taken her revenge further than that – had even planned exactly how she would do it.

The night of Kara’s Pulitzer prize. A damning speech about truth and lies, followed by Andrea Rojas leading the exposure of Supergirl’s secret identity to the world. Betrayal returned like for like, and Kara left as broken hearted as Lena had been.

Oh yes, she could have done it. Luthors were scorpions, and Lena knew how to sting.

But something had held her back from taking the final plunge that would have ripped safety and anonymity so irrevocably from Kara’s life. She wanted to believe it was her own compassion – an innate goodness that led her towards the moral high ground and made her fundamentally better than the Luthors she had so often sought to distance herself from, but it wasn’t true.

The reason she hadn’t done it was Lex.

Maybe if she had managed to pull the trigger last time they met, if she had murdered her own brother in cold blood for the sake of her traitorous false-friend, maybe then she would have done it. If Lex was dead and buried and out of her life for good, Lena could finally have stepped out of his shadow and stopped framing every decision she made against what he would have done. But Lex was still out there somewhere, laying low for now but undoubtedly still scheming, killing, making the worst decisions a human being could make while still being labelled as such, and that made a difference.

Revealing Supergirl’s identity to the world was a plan that Lex would have wanted her to carry out.

And so Lena hadn’t.

That had been enough at first, but as the weeks passed and the first fire of her rage cooled from white hot inferno to mere black smith’s forge fire, she found she was glad that she hadn’t taken the nuclear option. Kara might have deserved retribution for what she had done, but exposing her identity would put everyone she knew, including the entirety of the Catco staff and her unsuspecting apartment neighbours in serious danger from every human and alien criminal out there with a weapon and a score to settle, and Lena wanted no more innocent blood on her hands than had already been passed down to her as part of her dubious Luthor inheritance.

And she didn’t want Kara to die.

That didn’t mean she cared if Supergirl really had gone AWOL. She had had nothing to do with it, and it was none of her concern anymore...

Lena clicked the link.

According to this site, Supergirl had been observed flying off to the north of National City on an ‘unknown errand’ eight days previously and had not been seen since, leaving two major bank robberies, a fire at a children’s hospital and a collapsed ceiling at a swimming pool without support from ‘everyone’s favourite hometown hero’.

Eight days. That tallied with how long it had been since Alex had asked if she knew where Kara was, allowing for the full day that had passed before the DEO Director had made the decision to reach out to her. It struck Lena now that it was an odd thing for her to have done under normal circumstances. She might not have done anything to Alex specifically during the first fierce storm of her separation from their little group – at least not beyond a few short, sharp words and a door slammed in her face – but Alex had taken Lena’s swift and total removal of Kara from her life if anything even worse than Kara herself had, and had been round to yell at her over hurting Kara’s poor little feelings before the end of the first week.

She must have been desperate to have reached out to Lena like that after all this time.

Now she was looking for them, Lena found that there were dozens of similar stories popping up, ranging from serious think pieces about what this could mean for National City and Supergirl’s own welfare, to tabloid trash that suggested she might be having some sort of torrid three way affair with a sexually promiscuous alien couple from Saturn (why Saturn? Unclear. What was clear was that the entire story was utter garbage apart from one essential point: Supergirl was nowhere to be found).

Lena picked up her phone and tapped in Kara’s number, her chest tight with unease as she waited for the call to connect.

Of course she knew Kara’s number by heart. If she hadn’t she would never have been able to make herself delete it from her contacts.

It rang.

Maybe Kara was carrying a big stack of files and didn’t have a hand free to get her phone out of her back pocket.

And rang.

Maybe she was in the shower and didn’t want to rush out to answer the phone while wet and covered in shampoo.

And-

‘Hi this is Kara! I can’t get to the phone right now, but please leave me a message and I’ll get back-’

Maybe she was just screening Lena’s call. After everything that had happened between them it was what most people would have done, and Lena would understand that.

She hung up and redialled.

‘Hi this is Kara! I can’t-’

Kara would never have ignored a second call from Lena. No matter how angry she was, if she could pick up the phone, she would have done so by now.

Again.

‘Hi this is-’

She tried Alex instead.

This time, the phone was picked up before the end of the first ring.

‘Do you have Kara?’

A stone thudded into the pit of Lena’s stomach.

‘She really is missing then?’

‘Fuck. Yes she’s missing. You didn’t even know?’

‘Not until I saw it on the news just now. When I didn’t hear anything more from you after that last text I assumed she’d made it back safely’.

‘No, you had just answered my question and clearly didn’t want to help, so-’

‘Yes well, I thought she had just taken a detour to France for crepes or something, not that she was actually gone’.

‘Right, and you were so concerned you waited a week to check’.

‘Much as it may surprise you to learn this Alex, I don’t make a habit of keeping tabs on people who have betrayed me. So if you don’t want my help finding Supergirl I’ll just-’

‘No, Lena, wait. Look, I’m sorry okay? I’m just worried about her. If I send you the co-ordinates for her last known location do you think you could see if you can find anything? She went after this weird energy signature we’d picked up, but then her radio went dark and we couldn’t get anything else from her. We went out there to see if she was in some kind of trouble, but the place she was headed: it’s just a field. There’s nothing there, not even a trace of the energy we got before, and no sign of a struggle or any kind of indication of where she went next’.

‘Send me what you have and I’ll see what I can do’.

‘Sending it now’.

Less than a minute later Alex’s email arrived with the relevant details about Supergirl’s last known location attached, as well as everything they knew about the energy signature she had been investigating.

It wasn’t a whole lot to go on, except-

There was something vaguely familiar about the signature. It reminded her of…

Lex.

It reminded her of Lex, and the trap he had once devised to lure in a certain type of pseudo-photosynthesetic alien who fed on a very particular wavelength of light that wasn’t naturally produced by Earth’s yellow sun. Once it was absorbed the aliens could be hooked up to a generator that would produce massive amounts of electricity and could have made fossil fuels all but redundant overnight. In theory. In practise however Lex had never been able to make the conversion work, and had eventually given up on the plan.

So why was it showing up again now? And what did it have to do with Kara’s disappearance? It seemed far too much of a coincidence to imagine that the two things were unconnected, especially when Lex was the common thread.

Quickly, Lena skimmed through her options, and picked one she could adapt to this new purpose. The DEO had been scanning for days with no luck, but she had one thing they didn’t.

She knew her brother.

It took another two hours to fine tune the software and upload it to a satellite with scanning capabilities, but at last it was ready. She cast a wide net, centred on the location Alex had given her but stretching out from it to search a 30 mile radius. If it really was Lex then the place he had lured Supergirl was a decoy, and would be located well away from wherever he actually wanted her to end up.

She had to extend her search parameters twice, but at last she found it. Not the same energy signature – that would be too obvious. No, what Lena had been looking for was the special coded frequency that Lex had developed in his teens. To most people it would look like background radio noise, but Lena knew better.

It was him alright.

She reached for her phone to call Alex, then hesitated. All she had actually done was locate her brother, or at least somewhere he was broadcasting from. But the site was more than 80 miles from where Kara had last been seen, and Lena was working on a hunch rather than any kind of real evidence that Lex had taken her.

Besides, if the DEO got him they would just send him back to jail, and it had become abundantly clear that a maximum security cell was not enough to contain him.

No, Lena was going to have to do this herself. She would find Lex, and if he really had kidnapped Kara, she would finish what she had started the night he revealed the truth about Supergirl.

She was going to kill him.

[rowinablx]

Name: Mia Queen-Lance

Superhero Title: The Black Arrow

Age: 19

Race/Species: Human with Meta-Human Ancestry

Physical Appearance: Mia Queen-Lance is a striking young woman with a blend of her parents' features that create a unique beauty all her own. She has her mother's hazel eyes and her father's blond hair.

Background: Mia Queen-Lance was born in the tumultuous world of Star City, the secret child of the legendary vigilante couple, Oliver Queen and Laurel Lance. Her mother, fearing for her safety, sent her to be raised by Nyssa al Ghul in Nanda Parbat. There, Mia was trained in the ways of the League of Assassins, growing up in the shadow of the ancient order's traditions and discipline. Her childhood was one of rigorous physical training, stealth, and mastery of various combat techniques. Unbeknownst to her, she also possessed a dormant metahuman ability, a sonic scream, which she discovered during her early teenage years. When the truth of her heritage was revealed, Mia was torn between the worlds of her parents: the righteous, albeit violent, path of the vigilante, and the dark, calculated world of the League.

Relationships:

Oliver Queen/Green Arrow: Father

Dinah "Laurel" Lance-Queen/Black Canary: Mother

Joaquin Torres/Falcon: Boyfriend

William Clayton: Older half-brother

Connor Queen-Lance: Younger brother

Sara Lance: Maternal Aunt

Nyssa Al Ghul: Maternal Aunt In-Law, protector, former stepmother

Moria Queen: Parental Grandmother, deceased

Robert Queen: Paternal Grandfather, deceased

Quentin Lance: Maternal Grandfather

Dinah Lance: Maternal Grandmother

Felicity Smoak: Maternal Aunt through Laurel, as Laurel and Sara are half siblings with Felicity through Quentin

Thea Queen/Speedy: Paternal Aunt

Tommy Merlin: Posthumous Godfather

Kara Danvers/Supergirl: Godmother

Barry Allen/The Flash: Uncle Figure

Iris West-Allen: Aunt Figure

Nora West-Allen/XS: Cousin Figure

Bart West-Allen/Impulse: Cousin Figure

Ray Palmer/The Atom: Uncle Figure

Clark Kent/Superman: Uncle Figure

Lois Lane: Aunt Figure

Johnathan Kent/Super Boy 1: Cousin Figure

Jordan Kent/Super Boy 2: Cousin Figure

Caitlin Snow/Killer Frost: Aunt Figure

Cisco Ramon/Vibe: Uncle Figure

Roy Harper/Arsenal: Older Brother Figure

Trivia:

Oliver wanted to name Mia after his mother Moria but Laurel suggested they remove the O and R and name her Mia. Oliver agreed.

Mia's full name is Mia Quentin Queen-Lance

Mia's favorite hobby is cage fighting, like her mother in the DC comics

Mia named herself Black Arrow, a combination of her father and mother's superhero titles

Oliver named his long deceased best friend Tommy Merlin as Mia's godfather

Mia's favorite cousin figure is Bart and he hasn't technically been born yet

Mia's future superhero suit is like her father's Arrow suit but with vivid neon yellow lining on the suit like her mother's Black Canary suit

[6rookie-writer0110]

Request - Hey, can you write some headcannons please for being Valkyrie’s (MCU) younger brother?

•Your older sister Valkyrie taught you how to fight and how to use swords.

•You and Valkyrie are close and very protective of each other.

•If anyone messed with you then she would beat them up

•But you could never beat her when it comes to drinking liquor because she would win.

•When you and Valkyrie fight enemies, you two would show off and prove who is stronger.

•Not many people knew that Valkyrie had a younger brother.

•Sometimes you and your sister would argue then ignore each other then act like nothing happened.

•Sometimes, you and Valkyrie would have a competition to see who gets the most girls.

•Thor likes hanging out with you and Valkyrie.

•When you got badly injured from the enemy, she snapped and killed the enemy with her swords.

•She would give you advice on what girls like and you just roll your eyes at her.

•Jane and Darcy didn't know Valkyrie had a brother because she never told them.

•When she became the new king of New Asgard, you were happy for her.

•She would make you call her King Valkyrie, but you won't do it.

•Because of her you met Carol Danvers and Kamala Khan.

•She hates it when you use her swords for training because you almost broke them last time.

•You would get annoyed when she flirts with girls around you.

•It’s rare but you and your sister would have deep conversations.

•When she gets new weapons she thinks it's much better than yours.

•You would go to her for advice sometimes it would be good or bad advice.

•When she became the new King, she was too busy to spend time with you. But she would try hard to spend time with you.

•When you joined a team for the first time she said-

“This team of yours, it got a name?”

“We are working on it”

•She didn't trust them and it was noticeable.

•When you are too serious on a mission with your sister

“Mate relax, we are on the same team”

“This is serious!” You yelled.

•” You’re a Viking now, which means you pretty much have to die in battle.”

“I don't want to die, I’m still young,” You said

“Don’t say that out loud again, Y/N”

•When you get drunk with your sister, you two are very clumsy.

•Doesn’t matter what age you are, she will always protect you.

[nerdygaymormon]

Favorite LGBTQ movie and TV quotes

“Um, I do drink red wine, but I also drink white wine. And I’ve been known to sample the occasional rosé. And a couple summers back, I tried a Merlot that used to be a Chardonnay, which got a bit complicated… I like the wine and not the label. Does that make sense?”

— David Rose, Schitt’s Creek, Season 1, Episode 10

“That felt so good to say. I feel like I just solved an escape room I’ve been trapped in my entire life.”

— Fabiola Torres, Never Have I Ever, Season 1, Episode 5

“Look, I’ll be hurt either way. Isn’t it better to be who I am?”

— Eric Effiong, Sex Education, Season 1, Episode 7

“Everybody’s story is different. There’s your version, and my version, and everything in between. But the one thing that all of those stories have in common is that moment right before you say those words when your heart is racing, and you don’t know what’s coming next. That moment’s really terrifying. And then once you say those words, you can’t unsay them. A chapter has ended, and a new one’s begun, and you have to be ready for that.”

— John, Happiest Season

“The good thing about being different is that no one expects you to be like them”

— Ellie Chu, The Half Of It

"When I'm with Brittany, I finally understand what people are talking about when they talk about love. I've tried so hard to push this feeling away, and keep it locked inside, but every day just feels like a war. I walk around so mad at the world, but I'm really just fighting with myself. I don't want to fight anymore. I'm just too tired. I have to just be me."

— Santana Lopez, Glee, Season 3, Episode 7

“Now, there is a long and honorable tradition in the gay community, and it has stood us in good stead for a very long time. When somebody calls you a name…you take it and own it.”

— Mark Ashton, Pride

“So I'm bisexual. So what? It's LGBTQ for a reason. There's a B in there and it doesn't mean Badass. Okay, it does, but it also means Bi.”

— Callie Torres, Grey's Anatomy, Episode 1105

“We’re standing here in Philadelphia, the, uh, City of Brotherly Love, the birthplace of freedom where the, uh, founding fathers authored the Declaration of Independence, and I don’t recall that glorious document saying anything about all straight men are created equal. I believe it says all men are created equal.”

— Joe Miller, Philadelphia

"Yes, I wear foundation. Yes, I live with a man. Yes, I'm a middle- aged fag. But I know who I am, Val. It took me twenty years to get here, and I'm not gonna let some idiot senator destroy that. F*** the senator, I don't give a damn what he thinks."

— Armand Goldman, The Birdcage

"Being gay is your thing. There are parts of it you have to go through alone. I hate that. As soon as you came out, you said, "Mom, I'm still me." I need you to hear this: You are still you, Simon. You are still the same son who I love to tease and who your father depends on for just about everything. And you're the same brother who always complements his sister on her food, even when it sucks. You get to exhale now, Simon. You get to be more you than you have been in... in a very long time. You deserve everything you want."

— Emily Spier, Love, Simon

"The greatest gift we can give each other is our authentic selves and sharing that. Sharing our truth is what will make us strong. So here I am. I am both human and alien. And I am a trans woman."

— Kara Danvers, Supergirl, Season 4, Episode 19

"But I feel more when I look at a picture of Kristen Stewart than I do when I kiss him."

— Elena Alvarez, One Day at a Time,

"You can’t change it. You can’t fix me. Because I’m not broken, I don’t need to be fixed, OK? I’m me!"

— Ian Gallagher, Shameless, Season 5, Episode 12

"Becoming me was the greatest creative project of my life."

Eliot Waugh, The Magicians, Season 1, Episode 1

"Every time someone steps up and says who they are, the world becomes a better, more interesting place. So, thank you."

—Raymond Holt, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, Season 5, Episode 10

"I might be…bisexual, and you guys know I hate labels, but this one feels important right now to own the space I’m in and to make sense of it."

—Kat Edison, The Bold Type

[unknownbard]

whats a little stabbing between gfs 🥰

the smoking its a sensitive topic cus on one hand its wolverine and thats part of his character but on the other....its kara lol and i think smoking isnt something she would do unless to just try it only to inevitably fumble it and start having a coughing fit kakslakx

if you choose to have it it feels right for the character (wolverine) and also its a fun perspective of kara imo jus do you tbh either way its fun

but also if u wanna turn into a running gag instead of smoking she could be constantly chewing gum (ive seen ppl using that to reference smoking

you got THOUGHTS in my head now 😔 abt to do a deep dive in mcu now to find out what character could sam be

alex as cyclop is amazing its fitting and i like how instead of kara being cyclops brother you decided to make her wolverine cus as much as i love the danvers sisters being bffs this plotline brings so much tension to their relationship and we get to see kara being her own person rather than trying to mold herself into alexs expectations of her

tho i understand shes always trying to protect kara i feel like alex has a lot of potential and vulnerabilities to her character that can be fleshed out

u got me rambling kakskakx now my mind is alive and i have yet to finish the vamp au

Actually, you just gave me a great idea. She decided to quit smoking, which is why she's also unsually annoyed and angry lmfao. I could include the gum from that too, nicotine gum.

Yeah, I defo wanna delve in Alex's needed to be the leader, and control everyone, and have everyone act the way she wants them to. i think it'll be a great friction point between the two.

I really wanna say which mutant Sam will be, but also, I don't wanna ruin every surprise. 😈

[faithforgottens]

𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒚𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆.

from the writer’s desk: i’d tell you i started this a year ago after deciding i needed closure on post - crying on newport beach about how i’m incapable of being loved but that would mean me unloading all over the dash, and nobody needs that. i’m just a girl, out here projecting like tomorrow’s not coming, and thought i’d share. please know that i love carol, i just had to pick a character that i didn’t have strong emotional attachment to in order to play my villain. motivation to continue this would be much appreciated, thnx.  summary: you’ve been stuck in carol’s web for nearly four months now, and you need a distraction before you go postal and commit a capital crime or worse, tell her you love her. fortunately for you, natasha’s willing to offer her services. contains: college!natasha x female reader —— warnings include toxic relationship dynamics that involve infidelity, gaslighting and cheating, marijuana use, alcohol consumption, nsfw content [ fingering, dirty talk ]. →  inbox status: OPEN                                        don’t repost my works anywhere.

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM — SATAN    💬     am i gonna see you tonight?

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM — SATAN    💬     :(

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM — SATAN    💬     hellllllooooooooooo??

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM — SATAN    💬     I WANNA SEE U I MISS UR PRETTY FACE

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM — SATAN    💬     pls come tonight. it would mean everything to me

You’ve never claimed to be smart.

In fact, you’re pretty sure you have to fall on the opposite end of that spectrum in order to bother showing your face tonight at the behest of Carol fuckin’ Danvers. Satan. It’s the work of the goddamn devil pulling you from the clutches of your apartment’s comfortable silence where you’d be much better off riding through the nuanced gut-punching waves of disappointing Carol guilt instead of the hell storm that is being played once again by Carol guilt. You even put on eyeliner for such an occasion, because if you’re going to get fucked over (either physically, emotionally, or both), you might as well look good doing it.

Her name’s still lighting up your phone as the Uber drops you off at the curb, boasting a flood of pictures on Snapchat that illuminate the awaiting scene inside of the frat house through blurry streaks of glass bottles and marijuana smoke and the pale expanse of her neck where a glint of her gold necklace flashes is promised to you to do as you wish, leaving behind bruises or lip prints. It’s an enticing picture painted for you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think maybe tonight will be the night she tells you she’s free from the clutches of Maria, her perfectly sane girlfriend that you’ve only ever known through Carol’s jilted lens, and that she’ll even let you climb her like a tree in front of her friends.

Lucky you.

Except you do know better. In the pit of your stomach, you know the reality is that you are in closer proximity than Maria, which therefore makes you the most convenient piece of ass at Carol’s disposal, that Carol believes — and is likely right about how — you’re still wound tight enough around her finger to make you drop to your knees like a good little girl, blinded by her golden halo of hair and the whiskey-soaked taste of her lips and ready to excuse her shit treatment of you. That even feeling like you have her for the beat of a butterfly’s wings is worth your sanity. And despite it all, it isn’t enough to keep you away. It’s not enough to exile the parts of a masochistic heart beating in your chest that somehow loves her, even if the only part of you she loves is your willingness to show up for her.

Carol’s fraternity is co-ed, which means that between all of the brothers, their social circle extends to the farthest corners of the university — they consume a fair bit of your own, considering you have at least two classes a semester with Bucky, sit with them at Wanda’s softball games (mostly so you can talk shit about your high school ex that made the team), and rent study rooms at least once a month with Thor, Bruce, and Val to spiral into late night insanity while you all contemplate the meaning of life and attempt to memorize vocabulary words. You slip in through the door, bass thudding into your molars and the heavy blanket of smoke and sweat covers your bare shoulders as you weave your way through the house.

“Look who finally showed up!” Behind the counter in the kitchen is Sam Wilson, running position as makeshift bartender. You detour long enough for a vodka and Diet Coke, stopping next to the barstool that Bucky’s perched on. He tucks you underneath his arm for a side hug, other hand tipping his own solo cup back as he tries to drain the last bit of liquor down his throat.

They’re good friends to you. It’s why you hate doing this dance with Satan — because at some point, you feel that there’s going to be a tectonic shift between the two of you that dredges up a rift in the concrete and you don’t know who will be left on your side. You don’t know who you’ll be able to look in the eye and lie to about Carol, who would pick you over her. You don’t even know if any of them would believe you or would write you off as crazy as you’ve been writing yourself off as of late.

You tell yourself that you’re trying, goddammit, to shove that piece of yourself back into a locked drawer and enjoy the company of your friends.

“Anybody seen Danvers?” you pitch as nonchalantly as you know how, planting your elbows down onto the granite of the counter while you watch Sam mix your drink. He goes heavy on the vodka, which you quietly appreciate.

Bucky snorts. “Yeah, we’ve seen her alright.”

“She’s in the dining room trying to rally everyone into a round of strip beer pong,” Sam explains. “Last we saw, she got her shirt stuck in the chandelier.”

“The face of class, this fraternity,” you tease as Sam hands you your drink. He can’t help but laugh, a jovial, guttural noise that makes you smile, even though your stomach is currently in your throat.

You bid them farewell and snake through the living room, trying to avoid the furniture or the bodies of other people and almost always fail in avoiding both at the same time as you carve out a path to the dining room. It’s densely packed, which forebodes the game of beer pong that the boys mentioned. You try not to cut your elbows into the bones and flesh of others to make your way through, but your adrenaline is humming at the thought of seeing Carol, the thought of her body glowing in the house lights and the cut of her physique out on display for anyone, including you, to openly ogle without abandon.

“Goddamn, Danvers!” someone yells mirthfully. “Keep it in your pants!”

Whistling down to one thought, one track, your mind lasers in and you’re positive that the sharp point of your elbow nails T’Challa directly in the ribs as you finally make it to the inner lip of the circle around the dining room table. It’s desperate. You know it’s desperate. You'll care about it later, you’re sure, but for now, all that’s on your mind is her.

“For the love of fuck, I—” Someone stumbles back into you, dark hair in frizzy waves and the bill of their baseball cap nearly jabbing straight into your nose. Wanda Maximoff spins around, her eyes lightening up at the sight of you as she grabs onto your wrist to stable herself. “Oh! Hey, babe,” she says with a smile. “Didn’t know you were coming.”

“Me either,” you tell her, trying not to be blatant as you scan for Carol. “Carol didn’t tell me until last minute.”

“Boo,” Wanda pouts, before turning to yell over her shoulder, “Danvers! Fuck you!”

“Get in line!” Carol calls back, and your head locks in on where her voice comes from. Your stomach plunges into free fall when you see her: as promised, she’s standing around in her sports bra and jeans, white teeth glinting and blonde hair curling around onto her tanned shoulders, biceps on display and her arms snaked around — her.

Maria Hill, in the flesh, pressed against Carol’s side and her chin balanced on Carol’s shoulder as Carol makes a shot one-handed that successfully lands in a cup on the opposite end of the table. Carol cheers victoriously, and Maria kisses her cheek, and you notice that Carol’s hand on Maria’s side drifts down towards her ass.

All of Carol’s messages swim inside your mind, the ones where she assures you that it’s all real, that she and Hill are done, that Hill’s holding her back, that she’s felt things for you since the moment she laid eyes on you and just knew; the ones where she paints a beautiful picture of a future with you, the same picture she’s just doused in cheap spirits and ruined for the dozenth time. Your drink suddenly tastes like arsenic, heavy and uneven in your stomach, the room shrinking and heat crawling up your neck in an uncomfortable panic. You are going to be sick.

Wanda’s voice comes through in the midst of the ringing in your ears. Fuck you, Danvers.

It takes you a moment to realize that Wanda’s voice isn’t just a reverberation inside your mind, but is right in your ear. “Hey!” She calls your name again, and you finally snap your attention back to her. She scans over your face for a moment, eyebrows folding in the center of her brow. “You alright? Where’d you just go?”

The shock is fresh on your face, salt water from the crashing wave that’s irritating your eyes — you refuse to let yourself cry, here in front of everyone, because all that’s going to do is open the door to a conversation you don’t want to have, incite a fight with Carol that you’ll surely lose, leave you feeling even lower than you do at the moment. You shake your head, trying to shake whatever emotions that aren’t nonchalant off of your face. “Noth—nowhere,” you stammer, voice an octave higher than usual. Wanda’s perplexity only deepens. “More crowded than I thought. Got beer-splashed.”

Wanda breaks into a smile, seemingly buying your excuse. “C’mon, what’d you expect?” she ribs. It’s a loaded question, and if Wanda wasn’t Wanda, you’re sure it’d be enough to light your rapidly shorting fuse. The thin strain in your falsified smile must give something away, because she softens the slightest bit and wraps her arm around yours. “Let’s go downstairs. I’ll kick your ass sideways in pool.”

You appreciatively take Wanda’s out, allowing her to guide you away from the Carol show and the crowd of people you have steeled yourself in order to not cry in front of and head with her towards the basement, which the frat has renovated into a lounge space with a giant television, sectional that is infamous for its hosting of The Threesome, and the pool table. It hasn’t garnered quite the same audience that the beer pong game has, but less people means you feel slightly less suffocated. Carol’s still got her foot on your throat, but down here, it’s easier to maneuver and act as though you haven’t just had yourself made a fool in front of everyone without them knowing.

Relieved for the little things, like elbow room, you sit down on the arm of the sectional and take a long drink from your cup — if you’re going to survive the rest of the night without your tail tucking between your legs (and you’re determined to further your self-sabotage by going the extra mile to ensure Carol knows she fucked up, even though it’s likely she doesn’t care) you’ll have to be drunker than this. Wanda adjusts her hat on her head and picks up a pool cue, glancing back over her shoulder at you. “Want someone to show you how it’s done?” she teases.

You lift your cup in acknowledgment, smile shedding off of your lips. “Go for it.”

As Wanda weasels her way into the current game of pool, you do a quick intake of who all’s downstairs. There’s a few of the brothers, a few of the brother’s dates, people that are otherwise background characters designed to make campus seem at capacity but not so many people that no one would notice if you threw up in the corner or worse, started crying. You purse your lips around the rim of your solo cup, scanning the company around the pool table. Wanda sidles up next to another one of her brothers, poking her with the pool cue. “Nat!” Wanda whines. “Give me room.”

Natasha Romanoff shuffles out of the way with the roll of her eyes. “Poke me with the stick again and it’s gonna go somewhere less than ideal.”

Wanda flicks her middle finger upright before hunching around the shape of the pool cue. “You don’t scare me, Natty.”

“Your funeral.”

Your eyes follow Natasha out of the way, and she feels their weight because the next thing you know, you’re off the cliffs and deep somewhere inside the greenery of her eyes. They’re pretty eyes, you idly note, and you find yourself mulling over Natasha Romanoff, as a person, as a concept, as Natasha. She’s the oldest of the girls in the fraternity, a senior to your junior, and she’s been around for so long that it’s hard to remember a time when she wasn’t there. It’s hard to imagine a room without her in it, a constant fixture on the mantel that you don’t even bother acknowledging it anymore.  

She cocks an eyebrow at you after what’s sure to be a long moment of staring, and Wanda, who is unfortunately more observant than you’d like to believe, begins laughing. “Am I interrupting this little staring contest?”

Natasha smirks. “I could win a staring contest and kick your ass at the same time, Maximoff.”

“Show off,” Wanda grumbles as she passes the pool cue over to Natasha. She then looks at you, and whatever grumpiness dissipates, her shit-eating grin returning. “Now, you on the other hand,” she preludes with a gesture towards you. “There’s no way.”

You drain the rest of your drink and discard the cup off to the side. "You talk a lot, Wan,” you inform her as you walk up to the side of the pool table. Wanda just grins as you turn to Natasha, gesturing for the pool cue. “Let me have a go.”

Natasha acquiesces and passes you the pool cue, giving you the space you need coupled with a low nod of encouragement. There are a few clusters of balls around the table and you’re trying to eye up a shot that’ll give you not only a handful of points, but will get Wanda off your back — even if you are grateful for the timing of her diversions.

Unfortunately, it’s not enough; you can still hear the laughter and music through the walls from upstairs, a raucous noise that scatters your train of thought. Is it Carol? What’s she doing? What’s she whispering into Hill’s ear? Does she know you’re even here? Does she care? 

Probably not.

You take the shot without thinking, balls ricocheting off the sides of the pool table. Wanda barks out a laugh. “Really? That’s the best you’ve got?”

“Just getting warmed up,” you say stiffly, handing the pool cue off.

Wanda’s face is alight with amusement, nodding slowly as she moves around the pool table for her next shot. “Okay.”

You’re too far in your head, and you know it. You’re content to linger on the outskirts of the game while everyone else that Wanda goes about recruiting takes their turn. It’s a few minutes or an hour before the cue ends up back in your hand, like a rickety sort of clockwork that is unexpected but also entirely predictable. You assess the situation and find a decent enough angle now that the game has progressed, significantly so.

You bend over slightly, eyes fixed on a blue ten that’s not too far from the cue. Before you can make the shot, you hear someone behind you muttering. “Do it like this.”

When you glance over your shoulder, it’s Natasha, only a few inches from where you stand, hands hesitating before she reaches out. “Back up,” she guides, her hands stationing on your hips and forcing you to take a half-shuffle of a step backwards. “And lift your elbow like this.” You’re clay and she shapes you how she wishes, her touch feather light. “Okay. Now try.”

You do exactly as she says, pool cue shooting from your hand and colliding with the cue ball. The ten you’ve had your eyes on sails into the pocket without any interference. 

“Nice shot, sweetheart,” Natasha says, her voice ghosting along the back of your spine. As you straighten up, you glance behind you, noticing the faint grin along the curve of her lips.

“Well that wasn’t sexual at all,” Wanda comments with a low whistle as the pool cue returns to her grip. “Do losers get laid still? I wouldn’t know.” With a toothy flash of a grin, she draws the cue back and makes another shot — you’re not entirely focused on her efforts, thanks to the gravity of Natasha’s sights still pressing deep into your skin.  

Wanda talks a big enough game that she recruits nearly everyone standing around the pool shot to give it a go, which provides a window of opportunity for Natasha to brush a hand along your shoulder and steal you away. “Up for a smoke?” she asks, and you nod. You allow her to lead the way out through the basement’s French doors, slipping outside into the backyard where the sky is dotted with stars, the air smells only the slightest bit cleaner, and the music is nothing but a dull pulse from inside the house.

Natasha steers you away from the patio where other fraternity brothers and their guests are sitting around, enjoying their drinks and laughing amongst their idle, stoned conversations around the fire pit. You follow her into the grass, trailing around the side of the house until the two of you don’t have any other company aside from each other and Thor’s knockout rose bushes that he takes great pride in.

She leans up against the wall, hands fishing in the pocket of her jacket for her lighter. For someone who’s devoted the rest of their evening to shooting metaphorical (or even literal) middle fingers in Carol’s direction, you’re still too far on edge to be nonchalant about any of it. The quiet is all consuming, maddening inside of your buzzing mind. Natasha produces a joint, embers burning on the end as she lights it and brings it up to her lips. You’re left to watch as she takes a long, casual drag, a cloud of smoke billowing from her lips on the exhale. Her wrist then extends, offering the joint up; if there is such a thing as too eager, you’d be the poster child for it, the way you pluck it from her fingers and take a hit.

“Something on your mind?” she asks, her voice a low drag of gravel against the muted bass thud inside of the house. You open an eye and glance over at her, her green eyes burning holes through you as she watches. 

“Eh,” you mutter half-heartedly with a shrug. “Not worth it.”

You pass the joint back to her after you take one more drag, your eyes fixed on the steady stream of smoke that you forcibly control the exit from your mouth. It’s nice to have control over something, you think, even if it is, to some degree, just seeing how long you can hold your breath. 

“Seems like you could use a distraction,” Natasha comments, fingers idly rolling the joint between her fingers as smoke still curls from the tip. 

You laugh, a low and guttural noise that’s passive at best. “Yeah, probably.”

Natasha turns so her entire body is facing you, and it doesn’t register, the way that she’s looking at you, until you feel her brush your hair off of your face. Your eyes fully open, somewhat surprised by the action, watching her carefully. Natasha’s a lot of things, but gentle isn’t one you’d readily associate with her. It’s almost like she’s handling you like glass, waiting for the right moment to shatter you. It’s a hiccup in your chest, a strange feeling washing over your body.

“Let me distract you, then.” She says it simply, like it’s the most logical conclusion to arrive at.

“Nat, what...”

“C’mere.” One of her hands encircles your wrist, guiding you closer. You follow wordlessly in her guidance, unsure of what she’s doing or what’s to come. She takes another hit of the joint, her eyes glowing the same way the end of the joint does, a low burning fire that seems to grow hotter the longer your eyes are connected. 

The hand holding your wrist slides up your body until she’s cupping your jaw, her thumb darting across the expanse of your face to swipe across your lips in a prompt to open them. She lowers the joint, bringing her face inches away from your own as her mouth forms a perfect circle and releases smoke. You’ve shotgunned weed before, but never at such a close proximity. Natasha breathes out and you breathe in, eyes fluttering shut at the intimacy of the moment. 

“Gonna let me distract you some more?” she whispers, and you barely register yourself nodding before her lips capture your own. Her mouth is plush and soft but nothing about her is gentle anymore — this is where she forces a spiderwebbing crack across your surface, the deft way in which she manipulates your lips to do exactly as she’d like, her tongue skating across the skin and opening your mouth to allow her access. You can’t help but to sigh into the kiss. She is exactly what she claims she is: a distraction, a welcome reprieve, and the golden halo around Carol’s head seems fuzzy and jilted now.

Natasha kisses you like she’s trying to set you on fire; at some point she has absconded the joint and ground out its remnants into the mulch, both her hands cupping your face as she boxes you in with her legs and adjusts the two of you so your back is now flush against the wall. “How’s this?” she murmurs against your ear, lips starting a descent down your neck that is feather light and the gentle scrape of her teeth.

“Very... very distracting,” you stammer out, fingers curling into fiery red hair. 

“Good,” Natasha hums, her mouth vibrating over a particularly sensitive spot on your collarbone that causes your grip in her hair to tighten. “Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be so far in your head.” 

You nod, thankful for the reward of her body pressing against yours. 

“What d’you say?” Her voice ghosts over your skin, and for a moment, you’re not sure what it is she’s asking. It takes a moment, the weed and the liquor clouding your mind, but the dig of Natasha’s blunt fingernails into your hips and the graze of her teeth along your skin serves as motivation. “Huh? What d’you say, princess?” 

“Thank you,” you gasp, the feeling of her mouth tightening around your skin wet and hot sending a glimmer of electricity down your spinal cord. Natasha chuckles, a dark and melodic noise that buzzes through your body. 

“You’re welcome,” she croons. “’S that all you needed? Or do you need more?”

More. It’s the knee jerk response you have, the way your world has narrowed down to just her and the scent of her heady perfume and each individual curve of muscle is now flush against you. Your eyes open only to see Natasha grinning like she’s the fuckin’ devil. 

Maybe you were misplaced somehow.

Natasha’s hands drag over your sides, up and down roughly as she kisses you and forces your legs farther apart so she’s able to snake one of her thighs in between them. She rucks your top up on the edges, fingers brushing over your skin in a delightful contrast to the cool evening air. Natasha is hot, her touch burning and singeing the skin wherever it moves. She’s painting you out of ashes and making you into something beautiful, something uniquely her own. Her hands slip underneath your shirt and you feel one hand trail upwards, fingers wrapping around your breast before squeezing. It elicits another tiny moan from you, which Natasha swallows down with a kiss. “Shh,” she hisses against your lips. “Be quiet.”

You arch into her touch as her fingers slip beneath the cup of your bra and pinch your nipple tight, another squeak of pleasure groaned into her mouth. It only encourages her further, the other hand of hers moving in the opposite direction. “Want me to touch you?” she whispers in your ear while you press your mouth into her shoulder, breath warm against your ear and her teeth just barely missing your earlobe. “Bet you’re not distracted now; only thing you and that pussy are thinking about is me, huh?”

“Fuck, Nat,” you mumble into her skin.

“Yeah you are,” she replies with a shit eating grin, your head tilting back until it roughly meets the back of the wall as her hand goes up your skirt. 

You’d been meticulous prior to coming over, thinking on whatever lone star trailing in the sky that you’d be seducing Carol tonight; you’d purposefully worn your skimpiest pair of underwear just to show her what she could have if she was with you. It’s only when you see the look on Natasha’s face, the way her pupils dilate and her jaw slackens the slightest bit as her fingers skim in between the folds of your thigh and vulva and feels lace that you feel something resembling satisfaction. “You came ready for a distraction, princess,” she grumbles, moving your underwear to the side and swiping her fingers through what is now sheer want dripping from you. “Fuck, you’re wet.”

“N... Nat,” you whine, squirming around in the pursuit of pressure. “Touch me.”

She places the tip of her finger at your entrance, just barely teasing it in. “Ask nicely, honey.”

The words spill from your lips without thought. “Please, Nat, please touch me, fuck m—” She cuts you off as she slips her finger inside of you and you all but rocket up the side of the wall at the feeling. Her free hand, still underneath your shirt, wrestles out from beneath the fabric and is slapped over your mouth to muffle whatever noise you make.

“Thought I told you to be quiet,” she says between her gritted teeth. “Here.” She presses her index and middle fingers against your lips and you acquiesce, opening them wide enough to allow them to slip in. “Suck.”

You do as you’re told, happy to oblige as she begins to finger you. There’s nothing soft or sweet about the way she fucks you; she adds another finger and finds a steady rhythm, curling each time she’s knuckle deep inside of you just so she can be rewarded with you humming around the fingers in your mouth. It amuses her to some extent, the way her eyes have darkened and her mouth is slightly agape. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and considering how tight you are wound, you’re not going to last long.

"Clench around me, pretty girl,” she hisses amongst the other litany of dirty things she’s whispering in your ear. “Such a sweet pussy, does whatever I ask it to; what if I want this pussy all to myself? You gonna let me have it?”

You nod, Natasha withdrawing her fingers from your mouth before she hauls you in for the filthiest kiss of your life. “Fuck,” you whimper against her lips. “Yours, Nat, your pussy.”

“Yeah, I know. This is my pussy now, all tight and hot and wet and desperate just for me. This was what you needed, wasn’t it? Needed me to fuck you silly until you forget how to put one foot in front of the other.”

“Please, Nat, gonna...” 

“What?” she teases, her thumb flicking across your clit and you know that she’s doomed you, mind and body barreling down a track that there is no return from. “What, baby? Use your words.”

“Gonna come,” you manage to get out, and she fucking laughs.

“‘S right,” she agrees. “Gonna make this little pussy come all over my fingers, since I’m the only one who can. That right?” You nod; her fingers tighten in your hair and pull your head back so your neck is exposed for her. “C’mon, baby, wanna see you make a mess on my hand. Come for me like a good little slut. You know you want to.” You do, you do, and everything is bordering on the edge of too much the way Natasha is sucking your neck and rubbing tight circles on your clit. “Show me who’s pussy this is. Come.”

Another few thrusts and flicks of your clit and you are gone, Natasha bringing her mouth back to yours to swallow the keens and cries of you hitting your climax. The brick wall underneath you scratches at your shirt but it is a heavenly feeling, losing control underneath Natasha. She just smiles when she pulls away and you slump into her, perfectly sated. 

“That was hot,” she says with a wicked grin, pulling her fingers out of you. She doesn’t break eye contact as she brings them up to her lips, sucking your taste off of them. Her eyes alight with pleasure, a contented hum reverberating from her vocal cords. “Thanks, pretty girl.”

Beat that, Danvers.

[itsyoung8]

The age of the students at Bullworth Academy (part V)

Ouais salut l'équipe! Sorry for this long time of absence but as I said, studies take up a lot of my time. Well, here is the part V which was very much awaited (it's not true, but please do it)! Sur ce, bonne lecture!

Details:

-> I'm going to assume that Bullworth Academy is a high school

-> Since it is a high school located in the United States, four years ago and not three as in Europe (ex: France). That's why I'm going to make the following cut:

1st year: 14-15 years old - Freshman

2nd year: 15-16 years old - Sophomore

3rd year: 16-17 years old - Junior

4th year: 17-18 years old - Senior

Nerds:

Earnest Jones:

as seen in the previous part (I know it's dated), I had hypothesized (although it is very likely) that Ted was a 17-18 year old senior. Since Earnest and Ted are competing for the class steward position (I think that's it lol), I came to the conclusion that Earnest was also a 17-18 year old senior.

Algernon Papadopoulos:

I couldn't find much about Algie. The only small element that can give rise to a hypothesis is that in a line of dialogue, he says that Ted nicknames him "little buddy". In this case, if the word "small" refers to his age, it would mean that Algie is younger than Ted so either a freshman, sophomore or junior. But if it's not his age, then I don't have anything to make a hypothesis about his age.

Beatrice Trudeau:

Without a doubt, Beatrice is a 17-18 year old senior. On several occasions she talks about medical school and even says in a line of dialogue "I already know the medical schools to which I'll apply". Those in their final year have to apply to the universities they want and wait for an answer (like us in France). That's why Beatrice does this. Add to that the fact that she's been applying to be a cheerleader for several years, but Mandy turns her down every year. This reinforces this idea that Beatrice is a 17-18 year old senior.

Bucky Pasteur:

"I don't think I'll ever be big enough to be a Jock but I want to try!". This is the only element that allows me to go on a lead concerning Bucky. This line of dialogue makes me say that Bucky is not a 17-18 year old senior because it would be ridiculous to want to join the Jocks in his final year. So Bucky is either a freshman, a sophomore, or a junior. Unfortunately, I couldn't find anything else that would allow me to give him a precise age.

Cornelius Johnson:

If you listen closely, you can hear Miss Danvers making an announcement that Cornelius has the worst result on a sports aptitude test in the history of the academy. From that moment on, I told myself that he must be a 14-15 year old freshman. However, Cornelius says that Dan was hanging out with the Nerds last year so the idea of a freshman is wrong because otherwise he wouldn't have known Dan as a Nerd.

I came to think that Cornelius might be a 17-18 year old senior and that the aptitude test is the test for those in their final year, I don't really know.

Thad Carlson:

First of all, I went to look again at Dan's presentation sheet and I hadn't noticed that it was written that Dan could be one of the oldest students in the academy. So I'm going to assume he's a 17-18 year old senior.

As far as Thad is concerned, if he knew his big brother as a nerd, then he is either a 15-16 year old sophomore or a 16-17 year old junior.

Donald Anderson:

Donald is, in my opinion, either a 16-17 year old junior because he says "This is probably the worst year. Ever at Bullworth" and in this case the word "ever" refers to the fact that he is still at the academy for this year but that next year it may change, either he is a senior of 17-18 years old because he speaks college like all the final year students I have dealt with in the previous parts.

Melvin O'Connor:

As I said with Russell, the age to drive a car in New England is about 18. On the other hand, for a scooter, you must be at least 16 years old without restriction (tell me if I am wrong Americans) while in France, for example, you must be at least 14 years old.

When Melvin says "I thought delays were supposed to wear helmets", we can assume that he is lashing out at someone who is on a scooter because it would be illogical to wear a helmet in a car. As a result, we can understand from this line of dialogue that Melvin may not be of legal age to ride a scooter. So we can say that, maybe, Melvin is a 14-15 year old freshman.

Fatty Johnson:

I'm not going to lie to you, but I haven't found anything that would allow me to start with even the beginning of an answer. Really, I promise you, I searched his dialogues and his presentation sheet and there is nothing!! Fatty is one of the characters we'll never know exactly how old he is lol.

Here's the end of that part. Next time I will try to deal with students who are not in any group. It's going to take me a little bit of time but that part will be there. Thanks for reading! Bonne journée tout le monde!

[ellohallohiya]

Kald-dal's QQ1 OCs Name Yap >:D P.2

Yeah, I picked out more last names for the characters without them, and I'm so sorry for taking so long to make a part 2 :,)

-

Juniper - Comes from the juniper tree, it means to produce, it also means young, and it also is connected with its berries. Juniper berries are medicinal plants, and in ancient Rome they were associated with positive qualities, such as protectiveness, life and growth, energy, purification, and cleansing. Saint Juniper is also known as ‘the jester of the Lord’ or ‘the saint of comedy and laughter’ and the man was also known for his patience. Juniper is also associated with evergreens and fruit. Juniper also means, spiritually, setting up boundaries and standing their ground. Also it’s a hippie name

Skye - It’s popular as a name in the Christian religion, but comes from Norse. But it means ‘clouds’. The name also means they are spiritually strong and intense, in both charm and stinging. To continue on Norse, it means ‘misty isle’. Also The Island of Skye is the one of the most beautiful of Scotland’s sights to see

So Juniper is healing, protective, funny, energetic, patient, and full of life and growth. So I can’t wait to see her character arc. And I think it’s kind of a long stretch, but due to The Island of Skye, y’know, being an island, means she’s kind of alone and cut off, but when people come to see the views there it’s beautiful and so amazing to really be there (the Island is like the most famous in Ireland but you get the idea)

-

Cypress - From the cypress tree. The cypress both represents everlasting life and mourning of loss. It is also a very flammable tree. In a Greek story, ‘Cyparrissus’ (another version of the name Cypress), accidentally killed his best friend and favorite companion, a trained stag, with a hunting javelin. In sadness, he transformed into a cypress tree so he could mourn eternally for his loss. This Greek character was also gay with Apollo at some point. Anyways, as a spiritual name it means natural transitions and the cycle of life

Holden - Means hold, but, fancy in old language. It also means deep valley. In the Bible, its meaning is trapped, restrained, or unable to see. Another meaning is Christian Jewish is willing, quiet, gracious, from the hollow in the valley

I swear if he accidentally kills Juniper in the story with an ax (or an unfamiliar weapon he was pushed to use more likely) I will scream and cry. Anyways, he will mourn, like a lot. But the cycle of life I guess. And he is a deep valley, so his character will get even deeper, he is a thankful, quiet, and willing guy, (absolute malewife to Juniper)

-

Evelyn - In the Bible, it means life light, ‘source of light and life’. In Greek and French it means desired and wished for. In German, the name was derived from the word ‘ewe’ which means, wishing well, winning, and being blessed. In Irish, it means beauty, birds, hazelnuts, and water. On a baby website, the name means intuitive, creative, and compassionate

Danvers - A dancer or acrobat. (I tried to search it up but all I got was how Danvers became a last name. But fan fact: Supergirl’s last name is Danvers)

So Evelyn has many definitions (as I kinda expected) and hey, intuitiveness and creativity while being compassionate seems like Evelyn well. And winning sounds fun. (Also I know like two Evelyns in real life, one is blonde and is a bit overprotective of their younger brother too)

-

Avery - Wise and whimsical, also the ruler of elves (in German). And most definitions found in forums and baby name sites do say the name just mostly means the ruler of elves (or counsel) and wisdom. The name also means leadership and nobility in the Bible. Being chosen by God, and experiencing transformation, growth, evolution, and improvement

Danvers - Originally from Norse, which traveled to mostly France and Belgium

Avery is the ruler of elves! Wow. But anyways, he grows and changes down the story (before dying sadly) and can’t wait for his arc

-

Harvie - Strong, worthy, carnage, determined, eager for battle. Really matches my first interpretation of her character. Hervey means illustrious warrior, army, noble, sublime, bright and shining. Harvey means, battle worthy in blazing iron. But Harvie sounds like the word harvest, which means gathering of crops

Pollock - A group of fish that is related to cods, but is a bit darker. Pollock is also slang for insulting a person of Polish birth or descent (it says it isn’t a slur though, but just a derogatory term relating to the fact the word means fish and cod). But the fish does symbolize abundance and prosperity, a vital source of food, and a provider of sustenance 

I guess this name was mostly chosen due to it sounding like the word harvest. But it’s so funny how the actual definition matches how I first thought her would be like-

-

Weirdo - A person whose behavior is strange or eccentric. It could also mean unconventional. Or a psychopath or somebody just not normal and unusual. Sometimes used to describe perverts in slang

Wheaton - From the wheat town. Made of wheat. Man of wheat. Wheaton is scarecrow man confirmed /jkjk

Tobin - God is good. Otherwise, the name is usually connected to Saint Aubin. But there is several versions of the name in multiple other languages/cultures

Simple boi I guess. But scarecrow symbolism, it is like a natural boogeyman, a monster. But it is also a prop to scare of birds, maybe other tributes (Evelyn’s name also means bird so Wheaton just made her go away like the scarecrow he is)

-

Carmen - Short form of the name, Maria del Carmen, or ‘Mary of Caramel’, which is a reference to the Holy Land. And in the Bible it means garden, orchard, and vineyard. It also means song. And it can be a reference to the Roman Goddess Carmenta. And it represents a strong, compassionate, and natural woman

Cortez - Courteous or polite. The name could also mean someone who lived as/near the court of a king or sovereign 

I think her name was mostly chosen because of the queen Carmen Sandiego to be honest. But Carmen is a strong, compassionate, natural woman, she an icon for real. And I think she is polite, to a degree, like at least not an asshole

-

Taurus - Is a zodiac sign that represents a bull. The most prevalent personality traits on them that were shown on google were, being intelligent, dependable, hardworking, dedicated, stubborn, patient, loyal, sensual, and devoted. Apparently they don’t sweat the small stuff, so they are calming and nice to be around. They are mentally strong and very consistent. There is so much on a zodiac sign so… not gonna say it all sorry

Rivera - Name originates from the word riverbank. Not many definitions, but it is a popular Spanish last name

Taurus is a taurus! (He’s born on the 8th of May right? Or was that Katniss’ bday?) Anyways the zodiac sign fits him (there’s probably traits of other zodiac signs that can relate to him too though) And it’s honestly just a mine of character traits positive and negative and miscellaneous when being named after a zodiac

-

Robin - A small bird. The robin symbolizes good luck, happiness, rebirth, renewal, growth, and new beginnings. Fun facts about robins!: They are adaptable, with a variety of nest types, such as holes, hollows, recesses, and even boxes. They are very territorial, to the point where their breast is to indicate territorial messages, they defend their territory through the year, and they can resort to killing other birds aggressively (depending on the bird)

Maverick - Unconventional and independent. One who shuns custom, a lone wolf, somebody who blazes their own trail, someone who avoids conformity

Well it would be interesting if her character makes a base in some territory and ends up killing somebody defending it. And I chose the last name Maverick, due to it meaning independence and usually looking out for only oneself

-

Everest - Dweller on the Eure River. It also means high point, or summit. It also represents ‘the iconic nature of what it is to be a wonder’. Like the most notable climb known to man

Sinclaire - Comes from ‘Saint Claire’. It can mean pure or renowned, and light and clear. It also means one who prays

He a dweller. And is probably somebody who can walk for very long without complaining. And maybe religious or as least believing in something

-

Lilith - Meaning belonging to the night. It is a feminine name for demon, spirit, and sometimes evil. On google it says it also represents: ‘rebellion, sexual liberation, independence, mystery, empowerment, resilience, transformation and the pursuit of personal freedom’

Maloret - Ill-fortuned or with bad luck. A luckless and unfortunate person

Well, Lilith was mysterious, she belonged to the night I guess. I chose the last name maloret because she seems to have bad luck. Not really having an interesting reason as compared to the other tributes. Getting to the cornucopia and still unfortunately still failing and dying (kind of because of bad luck, wrong place, wrong person, wrong time)

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Harrow - To plunder or ravish. To cause worry and upset. It is a farm implement used for surface tillage. It is dragged over plowed land to break up clods, remove weeds, and cover seed. Some synonyms of the word is agonizing, torture, harass, excruciating, smite, tease, and vex 

Prairie - A plain of grassland without many trees. It also means meadows and pastures

He definitely caused worry and upset for his love. And he did die in torment or at the very least his dead body was mistreated… But I chose the last name Prairie because it also meant meadow. Most definitions said prairie meant a peaceful, calming land of nothing much but grass. So I guess he is resting peacefully waiting for his love in the meadow

Bonus!:

Marl - A loose or crumbly earth deposit. Also known as a kind of mixed soil. Sometimes fertilizer lands to help make it healthier. It is a mix of sand, silt, and clay. And it has rock forms, sedimentary

I chose this name as a first or last (or even middle name if you already had it chosen out) for Harrow’s lover. Because a harrow was used to till land/soil and help its growth of crops. Both help the soil and land in different ways, while still being different in their ways. A more man-made tool (like a richer tool like townies) and a natural help that can be used to help but with many properties and types (I dunno why I thought of the seam for this)

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Sorry for taking so long again! Hope you enjoy reading this! And I hope you enjoy the last names :)

Gift for fav Hunger Game poster: @kald-dal-write

Also if you're a random person just seeing this, read their fic if you're interested!