#time knife au

[sentient-stove]

“It’s just one life in exchange for all the others- is that not a noble kill to make?”

“One life?!? One life- it’s my life! My life we’re playing with here and newsflash! I don’t want to die again because that didn’t work the first time around! I’ll find a different way- a better way-”

“Through storm or fire- an oath to keep with a final breath-”

“I know what that stupid prophecy says and I’ve elected to ignore it.”

“You broke the rules my little lion,” Hera leaned down and it took everything in him to not pull back, still as scared of the goddess has he had been when he’d been sixteen and full of suicidal glory. “You came downthread, unraveled time to give yourself a second chance. But even you cannot escape the fate promised you.”

[miguxadraws]

famous last words

au belongs to @spitinsideme

[annasofthe11thdimension]

There are a lot of times someone can hear the same pun and not decide that violence against the inspiring advertisement is the Correct option.

In this very particular situation, and for this very particular bread pun, the upper limit to tolerance turned out to be 164 loops.

[mari-lair]

drawing 'your clock is ticking' scenes that plague my mind to motivate myself to get back to writing

[starry-bi-sky]

fast food is the best course of action after causing a scene. ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀɴʏᴀʟ ᴀʟ ɢʜᴜʟ ᴀᴜ

(First Post Here and Second Post Here

--------

Danny finds Sam easily.

She's right where she said she was over the phone: standing outside on a balcony, in Gotham, at Father's many charity functions. 

("Would you still be willing to fly over to Gotham, Danny?" She asks, her voice ringing clear through the speakers. Danny is already climbing out his window before she even finishes her sentence. He was just about to settle down for the night, his ghosts would know better by now than to disturb him at this time. The Box Ghost not included.)

("Of course." He says, sounding more confident than he feels. Sam was one of his best— closest friends, he would do anything she or Tucker asked. Even if it means stepping foot into his Father's city. He drops down silently, and walks through the house's ghost shield. "Would you like me to bring you anything?")

(Sam sighs through the phone, relief leaking through. "One of the veggie burgers from Nasty Burgers would be great, with their new ecto-fries. Extra salt. I'm sick of all this rich people food.")

(A small smile pulls across Danny's face, tilting at the corner as his living form falls away to his ghost self. "Alright," he says, and kicks himself off the ground, "I'll be there in a few minutes.")

("Thanks, Danny.")

He had the bag of food with him, stored in a container he had to run back to the house to get that would prevent the food from cooling during his flight over. Clutching it in hand, he floats down behind Sam and sheds his invisibility.

Being visible and being invisible always felt different, but in a way Danny can never describe, no matter how many times he tries to think about it. It's like a gut-feeling, a sixth sense, he always knows when he's visible and when he is not.

His ghost form burns away like steel wool being lit, and Danny drops the last foot to the ground silently. In his other hand lies his thermos, but filled with plain ectoplasm — lazarus water. "I have your food." 

(He brought the thermos for himself — his side was still healing from his last fight with Technus. The ghost impaled him with a broken pipe, and Danny returned the favor by wedging his sword into his chest. Technus had been quite offended by him ruining his favorite coat.)

Sam jumps a foot into the air, and her hand slams across her mouth to muffle the shriek she lets out as she whirls around. "Danny!" She hisses, her voice rising in pitch, and her eyes narrow at him into a glare. "Freaking-- Tucker's right, we seriously need to put a bell on you."

"You have been saying that for years," Danny grins, sharp-toothed and jack-knifed, and passes the container over to her. "And yet I've yet to see any kind of bell." He was going to start getting disappointed at this rate.

As Sam takes the container, Danny hops up onto the railing and looks around. He hadn't seen any of Father's other children lurking around the building before he revealed himself, but that doesn't mean they aren't there. He wasn't going to fool himself into thinking that their stealth skills were poor.

He wasn't that arrogant.

...Anymore.

"Oh you will." Sam threatens, unzipping the container and grabbing the takeout bag. "I'll get you a collar and everything, we can start calling you Catwoman." When she pulls out her fries, Danny snaps forward and steals one from the box, ignoring her indignant yell as he pops it into his mouth.

"I spent my own money on these fries, Sam." He sniffs, leaning away from her with a stifled huff of laughter as she swats at him. "So they are technically my fries. And also, Catwoman would be a poor thief if she wore a bell."

Sam grumbles at him, and takes a bite out of a handful of fries. "I'll venmo you money." She says past a mouthful of food, Danny would have been disgusted in the past, when he was still new. But he's gotten used to this... normality. So he makes no reaction to it. "How does three hundred bucks sound?"

Danny immediately frowns.

"Did you have a fight with your parents?" He asks, eyes glancing to the doors. Doors that are covered heavily by curtains and blurred heavily, decadent music passing through in muffled sounds. He shifts himself away from the light. "You only spend that much money when they've pissed you off."

Sam's chewing stops, and her annoyed expression falters into one Danny knows well -- hurt, furrowed brows, a small frown, disappointment -- and she turns her head away from him. She swallows. "Yeah." she says, quiet.

Oh.

Danny knows that tone too.

Guilt settles like a rock in his chest. He leans forward, "Was it about me again?" He wasn't blind to the disdain Sam's parents had for him, far from it. This wasn't the first time Sam had gotten into a fight with them over her friendship with him and Tucker. But especially him. He unsettled people, even after years of observing his age-mates and trying to mimic their behavior, and anyone who knew him in middle school knew it was an act.  

Sam's silence gives him all the confirmation he needs, and the guilt heavies itself with the weight of the sky. Danny's never much cared about others' opinions of him -- he is (was?) an Al Ghul, they never heed to mind what the weight of a simpleton's thoughts.

But.. he cares a little a lot when it hurts his friends like this. He presses his lips together into a thin line, and forces the words out through his teeth. It sounds robotic. Al Ghul's do not apologize. "I... am sorry." But this one does. It doesn’t come easy. 

Sam sighs through her nose, and turns to roll her eyes at him. "Don't apologize on their behalf when you won't even apologize for your own; their assholes." She says, and goes reaching for more fries.

It's a sign, a signal. A silent word for the conversation to move on, to change. A distraction. Danny grasps it with both hands, and makes an offended noise in the back of his throat. And like he has learned, puts a hand to his chest like a scandalized American southern lady. "I apologize! I apologize plenty."

She snorts. "Only when you think it matters." And pokes him in the ribs sharply with her fry. He withholds a wince and snatches it out of her hands. "You're about as unapologetic as they come, Danny J. Fenton. I've seen you look more sincere when you're trying to drive your sword between Vlad's ribs."

"Stabbing Masters is a very important task for me, Sam." Danny says in only partially faux-seriousness. Masters has yet to realize that Danny had no interest in becoming his son, but he had to (reluctantly) admire his persistence. "Of course I will apply myself to it as best as I can."

He grins triumphantly when Sam laughs, and she reaches over to shove him square in the chest. He barks out a laugh of his own as he grips onto the balcony railing and catches himself at an angle.

"Quit with your method actor talk," Sam retorts, grinning sharply while Danny twists himself back up elegantly. "I know you can talk like a normal person, I've literally seen you do it."

Danny sniffs, and snatches more fries from the carton as revenge. "I'm not entirely sure what you mean, Miss Sam." He says, grin-twisting when Sam rolls her eyes. "My speech has always been this way. This 'normal' you speak of, I do not know it."

She waves her hand dismissively at him. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. But if you keep talking like that, I'm pushing you off the balcony."

"Such violence, Sam."

He gets a laugh again, full of disbelief without any of the annoyance. "I'm gonna be the one that stabs you, oh my god. Pot meet kettle." She looks at him again, smiling.

Danny smiles back, and with a flick of his wrist pulls out a kunai from his sleeve. It was one of the few weapons Mother was able to pass on to him whenever she made her scarce visits. He cherishes it well, along with anything else she was capable of giving him. 

He holds the handle out to her, and watches her face shift from disbelief to shock, then back to disbelief. "Then you're gonna need a weapon to do that." 

"Of course you have a pointy object on you." She mutters, and takes the kunai and puts it in her purse. Danny makes a pleased hum, it resonates low in his core, and drops his hand. "When do you not have a pointy object on you?"

As if to make her point, Danny's hands twist near his side, and he holds his palms up to her, revealing the shobo he had also hidden on him. He gives her a shit-eating grin. "Never." He lowers his hand, and pockets the small weapon once again. 

Sam huffs, "Of course," she repeats, "thanks. I was gonna bring a knife but..."

Danny finishes the sentence for her, kicking his feet idly and knowingly. "The security at the door?" He'd seen them on his flight over the building. It wouldn't do much in the face of the Rogues, but at least they were good at keeping appearances and keeping out the smaller threats.

He rolls his eyes and turns his head away, looking up to the ugly, smog-covered skies. There was no bat signal in the air, and while that was a good thing, Danny almost wished there was. He wanted to see it. "I saw, and I would’ve called Father foolish if he hadn’t hired help. He attracts trouble almost as badly as I do."

"Maybe it's hereditary," Sam jokes, laughing under her breath. With her fries finished, she started on her veggie burger. "At least your dad isn't a vigilante like you are."

Danny smiles wryly. It felt nice to be able to talk more freely about this. That he didn't have to hide the fact that his father was Bruce Wayne, now that Sam knew it from her own accord. Maybe he could have conversations like these more often. Even if it was limited to Bruce Wayne only.

(Even if it felt a little terrifying to know that his father was so close by, close enough that Danny could reach out and touch him. To speak to him. But how would he explain that? And with an audience?)

(He’s wanted to see him since he was a kid, and he still does. It clings onto him like a cough that doesn’t go away after the cold already has, and while it has faded over the years, it clings. His mother’s words still ring in his ears however; it’s not safe. It’s not safe.)

(And isn’t that why he faked his death in the first place? So that his little brother would be safe? Why he gave up the heirship, his home, his Mother, Damian, and his chance to meet his Father? Going to see Father, even now, would be throwing that all away. He has to stay away.)

(Why is Damian with Father if staying with Father was unsafe?) 

He just needed to tell Tucker. Danny wouldn’t keep him out of the loop, he was just as much as his friend as Sam was. His eyes draw towards the door, where the golden glow of lights was still pouring through, where music was playing loudly. "Yeah, fortunately." 

They fall into a comfortable silence after that, and Danny finally cracks open his thermos. The pipe Technus impaled him with was covered in a goo that Danny didn’t recognize, but whatever it was, his injury was taking its time healing. The ectoplasm was speeding it up. 

He isn’t sure what the difference between the ectoplasm that Drs. Fenton collected and Grandfather’s Lazarus pools is, but there’s a difference. He swirls the thermos slowly, watching as the ectoplasm inside twists into a small whirlpool sluggishly. 

When left alone, it thickens into a consistency similar to egg whites, or perhaps a thick smoothie, but reverts back into a water-like substance when moved and swirled. It was strange; unexplainable. He can understand, to an extent, why the Drs. Fenton are so obsessed with studying it and the dimension it comes from. 

Sam watches him idly as he brings the thermos to his lips and drinks from it. The effect is instantaneous, a sense of relief washing over Danny as if someone had put a soothing balm onto an injury. It buzzes down to his fingertips, and when he lowers the thermos, he licks his lips and watches the tips of his fingers burn green like frostbite. 

“Your hair turned white again.” Sam comments, her hand reaching out and touching the hair on the nape of his neck. While it’s not the first time Sam’s touched his hair, it still makes him tense up with her hand so close to his throat. Instinct. dan

He ignores the urge to bat her hand away, humming thoughtfully. “I’ve noticed it does that.” He says, pulling down his bangs to see if they’ve also turned white. No, still black. He lets go. “Let me guess; my eyes are green too?” He lifts the thermos again and peers into the chrome casing. 

Sam nods, “Yep, but it’s only the, uh.” She makes a circle around her eyes with her finger. “The iris part. Everything else is fine.” 

Danny can see that. The faint reflection on the chrome casts back an intense green. He takes another sip. It chills the back of his teeth, and he can feel his canines warp and sharpen. He runs his tongue over them, and swallows. 

Sam is still watching him, her fingers drumming against the balcony railing. “What’s it taste like?” 

“Carbonated.” He says dryly, before taking a large swig. He couldn’t name a specific flavor if he tried, it changed every time he took a sip. The only thing that stayed consistent was that it tasted carbonated. And slightly sweet. When he pulls the thermos away, Danny twists his body towards her and offers it out, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Want to try?” 

Her reaction is immediate. Sam’s nose scrunches up and her mouth twists into a smile, and she makes a huffing-laugh sound. “No, thank you.” She pushes it away lightly with her fingers, “I don’t know how to explain to my parents why my hair is white.” 

Right. Danny pulls the thermos away and puts it down beside him, straining his eyes to see if the rest of his hair has changed colors. Even just his first sip would take half an hour to fade back to its normal black, and he was a halfa. He had no idea how long it’d take to fade on Sam, who was human. 

There’s movement from the corner of his eye, and Danny snaps his head towards the source. There’s a figure, small, a boy, trying to hide behind one of the curtains at the door. His form just barely peeking out from the angle Danny was sitting at. He wouldn’t have seen him if the boy hadn’t moved. 

His fingers curl tightly into the railing, and he breathes in sharp. Sam’s smile crumbles away and she turns to see what he’s looking at. “I should go.” He says, and reaches for his thermos. “There’s someone spying on us. Don’t say anything, just look at me.” 

Sam’s expression warps, twists. Her eyes widen, her jaw starts to drop before fixing itself into place, and her shoulders curl up and tense. She forces it all to smooth over, and she leans casually against the railing. There’s a tick in her jaw. “I see.” Her voice comes through teeth. “Do you think they saw you?”

“I am not sure.” Danny says. He keeps an eye on the figure as he twists himself over and grabs the Nasty Burger bag and the container. He tries not to look like he’s rushing. He is. How long has that boy been there? How much did he see? Did he hear anything? 

“Father, fortunately, has privacy films on the glass. Nobody should have seen me unless they’re specifically trying to peep through the door.” He says. The boy seems to realize that Danny was starting to leave. And, his heart beginning to sink, instead of leaving, moves to grab the door handle instead.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

Danny’s breath catches in his throat, he’s hoping that isn’t who he think it is. But how else would he have not noticed an eavesdropper on their conversation unless it was someone who was capable of bypassing those skills? He told himself that he wouldn’t fool himself into thinking that his siblings’ had poor stealth. He got distracted. 

Five years, five years. He refuses to let that go down the drain. He zips up the container and throws his legs over the other side of the railing, his back facing the door. He hears the doorknob click, and without a word to Sam, slips off down the side and down to the ground below.

Just in time. The once muffled music now sounds blaring as the door presumably is thrown open and the pull of invisibility washes over him like a second skin. He doesn't stay to see who it is.

[starry-songs-canvas]

Talking Him Down

Whenever Damian thought of his twin brother, he thought of his kindness. His fascination with the stars, his willingness to take the fall for Damian whenever sick or hurt animals were found in the compound. His aversion to killing or torture, which thought of as a weakness in the league, Damian had secretly admired. He thought of Danny talking him down from mistakes he knew Damian would regret.

He never thought the positions would be reversed.

Yet there his somehow alive brother was there, standing over an already bloody Vladimir Masters with rage-filled cold eyes and a knife in hand.

“You should leave, Dami. Before things get too messy.”

[the-barefoot-hatter]

Lunch Time - Non Euclidean Geometry AU Comic

◬- THIS PART-◬- NEXT PART -◬

This first part is nicest, lightest part of the comic. Stop here if the tags are too much.

[the-knife-consumer]

Ur my best friend. Even if you make me sleep on the floor.

[mrghostrat]

my flawless bind is done!!! 🥹

this is my second ever hardcover, first ever faux leather, first ever metal corners, and first bind of my own fic!

featuring art by myself and @chernozemm , and a hand painted cover because i couldn’t figure out any other way to decorate it lmaoooo. now i just gotta do this three more times for mine, meg, and zemm’s copies 🤞

[snekberry]

Future!Martin’s arrival part 3 | part 1

the long overdue last part to the future!martin's arrival comic series hsdgjkshg sorry it took me so long. you see, i accidentally started and finished a long video project in between

time travel au masterlist

[sentient-stove]

Imo Leo should always be the one to time travel in time travel fix it fics cause their entire victory literally depends on him. Sucks for Leo tho, having to go through it all again

To be fair, Leo was the only one left alive post war from the seven for my au but yeah

He’s always been the lynchpin to the prophecy, he’s the keystone, the hinge, the dependent variable- it has and always will come down to the choices he makes.

At least this time, he’ll be nineteen and have the knowledge of what didn’t work his first run around.

(And he gets to kill his past self, yippee🎉)

[phonification]

weird hsbc adjacent ii au doodles ,,

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

It's a Wonderful Knife AU (Supercorp)

It's a Wonderful Knife is about a girl who, one christmas eve, witnesses and ultimately kills a spree killer (aka The Angel), who kills her best friend and a couple other kids. Once dead, the killer is revealed to be none other than Morgan Edge, the local sleaze who'd been trying to commercialize the small town of Angel Falls.

A year later, the following Christmas sees her clinically (yet untreated) depressed, unaccepted to her dream college, and overlooked by her family in favor of her cousin (who she saved the night of the killings). When she discovers her boyfriend has been cheating on her for the entire year, it's the final straw.

On her way home, she looks up to see the Northern Lights. As if they were a wishing star, she gives voice to the heaviness that has been growing in her since that fateful night.

"I wish I never existed."

She blinks, and suddenly the lights around her are dark, the previously festive boulevard now shadowed and eerie. Immediately on edge, she approaches a man to ask if the power went out-- only for him to collapse as he turns towards her, a knife in his gullet.

The Angel then appears like a ghost. Kara screams, running for help. She eventually runs into the local sheriff-- one of Edge's right hand men. Who definitely wasn't sheriff, last she checked. The oddities keep adding up, as she learns that not only is The Angel alive, he's been active for a full year. Her family home is dark and grieving for a lost scion-- her cousin who died the christmas before, because Kara hadn't been there to save him.

Kara isn't in any of the family portraits, her family doesn't recognize her, nor do her former friends when she tracks them down at the annual get-wrecked holiday party. In the absence of all that's familiar, she turns to the relatively unknown-- the local weirdo.

"Weirdo" is the slender goth girl who hangs around the periphery of their age group, appearing at large events without anyone seeming to invite her. This year she has her hair in space buns and though she says nothing as Kara frantically pleads for anyone to recognize her, her sharp green eyes take everything in. So when Kara finally turns to her, and their gazes meet, Kara feels a tinge of relief.

"You know who I am?"

The weirdo gives a nervous little smile, but doesn't balk. "Hi. I mean, no. I mean. I'm Lena?"

Lena's mere act of not ignoring her almost brings Kara to tears. She unloads everything onto the poor girl, who listens with wide eyes and a slightly bewildered look. But when Kara mentions The Angel, Lena perks up.

"You want to stop The Angel?"

"What?" Kara asks. Out of everything she's said, that's what the weirdo locks onto? "Yeah, but--"

"Come with me," Lena says quickly. She grabs Kara's hand and pulls her away from the party, out the door and across town. They don't stop until Lena tugs her up the front walk of a house with darkened windows. Unlocking the front door, Lena leads Kara inside the empty house.

Kara frowns. "Are you always alone on christmas?"

Lena's cheeks flush, but instead of answering she makes her way deeper in the house. "I want to show you something."

When Kara steps into Lena's bedroom, she's shocked to see one whole wall serving as a murder board-- literally. Thumbtacks mark the location of known murders on a large map of the city, with notecards detailing facts of each victim.

"Most of them are teenagers related to business owners in the town," Lena tells her. "Well, mostly former owners, now."

"It's Edge," Kara states bluntly. "He's The Angel. He's the one doing the killings."

Instead of dismissing her outright, or asking how Kara knows, Lena's brow furrows. She studies her board thoughtfully.

"Most of the families who've lost children to the attacks have closed up and left town... Edge, he--" Lena's eyes widen. "He's acquired every single one of them!" She mutters a curse to herself. "I can't believe I didn't see it!"

Before long, Lena is also hypothesizing on the how of Kara's circumstances. Kara relates the glowing aurora that still lingers above the town, and Lena gives a thoughtful hum.

"It's unusual to see it this far south," she observes. "It could be related, or it could be complete meteorological happenstance. But... the aurora does generate via a confluence of fluctuating solar energy. What if-- and I can't believe I'm about to say this, but-- what if, when Edge died in your reality, his spirit... lingered? And if it did, perhaps his ill intent, combined with the energy of the aurora, facilitated the change?"

Kara goggles at her. Lena blushes again, and scrambles to fill the stunned silence. "Of course, that's assuming this is a matter of different realities, which are purely hypothetical and I am *not* saying are real, let alone suggesting travel between them is even a feasible concept--"

"I had no idea you were so smart," Kara says bluntly.

Lena freezes, eyes flashing up to meeting Kara's. Her blush deepens as she reaches up to tuck the flyaway hairs at her temples behind her ears.

"There's a lot people don't know about me," Lena says softly.

Guilt forms solid and heavy in Kara's belly. "I'm sorry," she says. "For how people have-- how I've treated you."

Lena shrugs. "It's--"

"Please don't say it's okay," Kara urges, leaning forward intently. "You've just... existed, and we've acted like..."

Holding Kara's gaze, Lena's arrest softens. "Maybe things would be different, if you'd been here."

Shame courses through Kara's body, but she refuses to voice the knowledge that even in her reality, while never cruel to the weird girl in the corner, she'd never been kind.

"It will be," she says instead, firmly. She offers a crooked grin. "After all, who's George Bailey without her Clarence?"

Lena beams, a bright laugh bubbling out of her. Kara's smile grows, and for a moment, the world doesn't seem so grim.

---

The solution in returning the world to its rightful place is clear. They kill The Angel, Kara goes home. But before they can decide just how to execute their plan, Kara gives in to her desire to see her family. For help, maybe, to help them in their grief for Clark, she isnt quite sure.

When they get there, they find Kara's uncle in his office. Seeing his despondency, Kara can't help but reach out to him. She tells him she's a friend of Clark's and they spend the next few minutes reminiscing about some of Clark's most memorable moments-- his football career, the time he saved an elderly neighbor's life, etc.

But when Kara tells her uncle that she knows who killed Clark, their reverie snaps back to reality. Her uncle grows cold, and when Kara tells him it was Morgan Edge, she learns that this version of her uncle not only works for Edge, but considers Edge to be a close friend-- one who paid for Clark's funeral.

He shouts at her to get out of his house, and Kara bolts, with Lena following on her heels. Once outside, Kara bursts into tears. Lena envelops her in a fierce embrace, holding her until her sobs subside.

"We'll fix this, I promise," Lena says. "We'll fix-- augh!"

Lena's cry of pain jolts Kara into a state of panic, when the source of the long slice in Lena's arm proves to be The Angel. They bolt for safety, and in the ensuing chase Lena devises a plan that has them splitting up. The Angel chases Kara, leaving Lena to loop back around behind him and shove him sprawling into the snow. Kara grapples him for the knife, and as soon as it's in her hands she plunges it deep into Edge's throat.

Except it's not Edge.

When they remove their would-be killer's mask, it exposes instead the face of Kara's uncle. Kara vomits, then wraps her arms around herself as the sobs return.

"I don't understand," she wretches. "It-- it was supposed to be Edge."

"I don't know," Lena murmurs, rubbing her hand against Kara's back. "But it doesn't matter. That isn't your uncle. This isn't real, not for you. And you did it. You got the killer. Now we can get you back to your real family."

Lena supports Kara to the boulevard where the shift first manifested. Once there, Kara offers a watery smile. "Thank you," she whispers. "I don't know-- I don't think I could have done this without you."

Green eyes gaze at her, warm and sparkling in the light if the aurora overhead. "I should be the one thanking you," comes the hoarse reply. "To be honest, I--"

When sudden emotion chokes Lena's voice, Kara reaches out in concern. Lena swipes at the tears gathering in her eyes.

"I'm okay. I just-- this was going to be my last christmas, Kara."

Kara blinks. It takes a long moment for her to connect the words to their meaning, and when she does, her heart lurches.

"Lena, no--"

"It wouldn't have mattered," Lena whispers. "Not to my family, or the kids at school. Not to anybody."

"Yes, it would, Lena. *You* matter."

Lena nods, tears falling free from her eyelashes. "I think maybe we got it all backwards," she says, huffing a soft laugh. "I wasn't your Clarence after all. You were mine all along."

They hug, and then it's time. Kara looks up at the aurora and wishes with all her might that she lived, that she existed. She wishes for her life back. Not just to have her family back, to have Clark and her uncle, but to have Lena too.

Nothing happens.

It doesn't matter how much she wishes, then pleads, then curses at the universe-- the world stays exactly as it is.

Kara stares helplessly at Lena, who can only shake her head. "I don't know," she says. "I don't know--"

She's interrupted by the squawk of a microphone coming to life in the nearby square. The voice of Morgan Edge soon follows, drawing them both to the periphery of the crowd gathered around the stage where Edge stands before the town's christmas tree.

Rage overcomes Kara at the sight of him. She pushes through the crowd towards the stage, only vaguely aware of Lena following close behind lest the crowd separate them. Before she knows what she's doing Kara vaults onto the stage and slugs Edge right in the face.

As his henchmen move to wrestle Kara away from her victim, Lena spies a familiar looking knife lying the podium-- The Angel's knife. Her gaze flicks to where Edge marches towards a restrained Kara with rage in his eyes. The decision she makes in that moment is hardly a decision at all.

She snatches the knife from the podium and slits Edge's throat from behind. Her only regret is that it showers a surprised Kara with arterial spray. For a moment they, the guards, and the gathered crowd all stare frozen at Edge's gurgling body, until it finally falls quiet.

Then, a clap issues from the crowd. A single person, clapping slow and deliberate until it grows into raucous applause. The guards reach for Lena, only for the townsfolk to intervene, giving Lena and Kara the opportunity to slip unseen from the mayhem.

They sprint to the boulevard, coming to a breathless stop under the rippling aurora that's slowly brightening.

"Go," Lena urges. "Now, before--"

Kara kisses her soundly. Her world becomes the feel of Lena's lips against hers, the scent of blood thick between them, and the pull of Lena's arms as they wrap around her neck--

She opens her eyes to the ceiling of her bedroom.

Morning light spills in through the windows, illuminating the world in warm relief. Kara bolts downstairs to find her family hale and whole, and nearly loses herself in the sweeping joy of her life returned-- until Lena's features flash across her mind. Lena's features, and the echo of Lena's murmured confession: "this was going to be my last christmas."

In a instant she's back on her feet and sprinting to Lena's house. She pounds on the door until it opens a crack for Lena to look warily out.

"What do you want?"

Kara's heart plummets, but she forges ahead without stopping. "Lena, this is going to sound crazy, but you have to believe me, because it was real, and you were there, and whatever you're planning *please* don't--"

The door opens further, revealing Lena in a cozy sweater with a puckish glint in her eye.

Kara stops short, hardly daring to believe. "You... you remember?"

Lena answering smile beams in affirmation, prompting Kara to sweep her up into a giant twirling hug. Lena squeals, but it ends with a delighted giggle.

"I love you," Kara says, kissing Lena. Their hands clutch together, holding tight as though the world might reset and tear them apart once more.

Lena smiles, sighing happily as she rests her forehead against Kara's.

"Merry Christmas, Kara."

[persimminwrites]

they're so sooooo messy (another solavellan ghibli au redraw)

[mblue-art]

out w these tall clowns 🌲🌸

[starry-bi-sky]

new Danyal al Ghul au just dropped! --or at least some art of it did. I call it the "Stillborn? No, no, still born" au (or stillborn just for short)

it's based off a batfam comment I saw that mentioned in the early comics Bruce knew about Talia's pregnancy and was ecstatic to be a father. So much so that Talia feared he'd give up being Batman for it, so when she gave birth she put the baby (Damian) on a doorstep and (seemingly) told Bruce that the baby was stillborn.

I saw it, thought "mm, tasty!" and thought what if that baby was Danny instead of Damian? By default I was thinking of making him a few years older, however, it works just as well with demon twins. I need to think it over. Meet Daniel Brown! 14 year old foster kid whose been with the Fentons for the last two years! He has SO many issues haha. hah. lmfao even.

Danny's theme song is literally just "Good Kid" from the Percy Jackson musical, to sum him up.