All-Star Superman Annotations: Smash Mouth

In the late 1990s, Grant Morrison legendarily met ‘Superman’ in a self-described shamanic encounter outside the San Diego convention center at 2 in the morning and questioned him. His answers and general demeanor inspired his take on the character in his 1998 Superman 2000/Superman NOW pitch alongside Mark Waid, Mark Millar, and Tom Peyer, and later his seminal All-Star Superman alongside Frank Quitely, Jamie Grant, Phil Balsman, and Travis Lanham.

The year after that initial pitch - whether out of the transcendent synchronicities Morrison has written on underlying the seeming arbitrary mundanity of day-to-day life, or significant behind-closed-doors dealings - Smash Mouth released its equally seminal All-Star.

The superheroic associations are immediately evident. But Mystery Men (very fun movie) and Steve Harwell lifting a bus are but the tip of the iceberg. Or perhaps more appropriately the edge of a cliff, for when you peer within, the connections here go deep.

Somebody once told me the world is gonna roll me I ain't the sharpest tool in the shed She was looking kind of dumb with her finger and her thumb In the shape of an "L" on her forehead

The opening of the song is obviously an evocation of the underlying rivalry between longtime nemeses’ Superman and Lex Luthor, with the latter mocking his erstwhile opponent on his idealistic shortsightedness in Lex’s mind, as well as that by poisoning him via solar radiation overdose he has at last triumphed. Of course, as the narrative remains on Superman’s side, Luthor’s worldview is exposed as self-aggrandizing solipsism, rendering him looking kind of dumb. That the figure of the song is referred to as ‘she’ is curious; perhaps this is in fact Nasthalsia ‘Nasty’ Luthor. Or it may refer to a sort of conceptual malleability of identity referring to Luthor’s eventual transformation via rehabilitation and time-travel into Leo Quintum, a decidedly more flamboyant and effeminate figure than the decidedly machismo-poisoned Luthor.

Well the years start coming and they don't stop coming Fed to the rules and I hit the ground running Didn't make sense not to live for fun Your brain gets smart but your head gets dumb So much to do, so much to see So what's wrong with taking the back streets? You'll never know if you don't go You'll never shine if you don't glow

‘Hit the ground running’ is an apt choice of words when the title of the first chapter is Faster...; the progression of time and defiance of rules, going down the backstreets, can be read as his reaching beyond the typical rules and structures that have fenced him in over decades of continuity and tradition in the face of his pending mortality, such as revealing his identity to Lois (his realization of his mistreatment of her and their relationship as his intellect increases corresponds neatly to his brain getting smart but his head getting dumb), freeing Kandor, and entrusting humanity and Quintum/Luthor specifically with his genetic legacy.

Hey now, you're an all-star, get your game on, go play Hey now, you're a rock star, get the show on, get paid And all that glitters is gold Only shooting stars break the mold

Morrison referenced in his All-Star Superman exit interview with Newsarama his initial frustration with the All-Star brand going on his definitive Superman text, seeing it as an intrusive corporate logo (not knowing that it would ultimately come to be associated predominantly with that one story) when he wanted his story to be seen simply as ‘Superman’. Choosing to work with what he had, his story finds Superman becoming a literal golden glittering all-star shooting across the sky, pure information, an untouchable incorporeal living myth sprung from a man as akin to the ‘rock star’ image formed around ordinary people (such as Morrison himself in his younger days with his band The Mixers). The subject of payment will be returned to at the conclusion.

It's a cool place and they say it gets colder You're bundled up now, wait till you get older But the meteor men beg to differ Judging by the hole in the satellite picture The ice we skate is getting pretty thin The water's getting warm so you might as well swim My world's on fire, how about yours? That's the way I like it and I never get bored

This verse at first appears to be in reference to the coming of the freezing All-Night of the Bizarro Underverse, and Superman’s return as a ‘meteor man’ crashing into a travelling circus. However, while this is a neat narrative transition it is in fact in reference to metaphorical coldness and figurative meteor men, in the form of Bar-El and Lilo, and Superman’s reckoning with his Kryptonian heritage (though the opening lines also evoke the emotional coldness and grappling with mortality that define #5-6: it is this central 6-issue chunk that make up the night side of the archetypal journey into the underworld and rebirth that Morrison has commented formed the mythical structure of the series). The ‘hole in the satellite picture’ is interesting; it could be seen as a roundabout reference to the Kryptonian couple’s conquest of human culture as seen in Metropolis both architecturally and in Jimmy’s adoption of Kryptonian overpants and belt, culminating in the literal hole in the moon (symbolic of dreams, as all culture is the product of) patched up with human cultural artifacts such as the Golden Gate Bridge. More pertinently however, it evokes General Zod’s command of the airwaves in 2013′s Man of Steel, where he not only inhabits a colonialist view of planet Earth evocative of Bar-El and Lilo, but mentions that Superman “could have built a New Krypton in this squalor”, a direct line lift from the issue. Either the time-bending syncronicities go further than initially realized, Morrison played an extremely long game while consulting on the film, or Zack Snyder is not only in fact in possession of the deep understanding of Superman and his source material that his apologists claim, but himself figured this all out a very long time ago and adjusted his work accordingly. In any case, the Kryptonian astronauts’ belief in the “uncontested superiority and grandeur of Kryptonian culture” is impotent in the face of their own failing bodies and ultimate realization that Superman is right; their time has passed, the ice getting thin, and Superman’s kindness and willingness to engage human culture on its own terms - to swim - must carry the day. Per Morrison, “In mythic terms, if Superman is the story of a young king, found and raised by common people, then Krypton is the far distant kingdom he lost. It’s the secret bloodline, the aristocratic heritage that makes him special, and a hero. At the same time, Krypton is something that must be left behind for Superman to become who he is - i.e. one of us. Krypton gives him his scientific clarity of mind, Earth makes his heart blaze.” (Bolding my own)

(Chorus repeats)

Somebody once asked could I spare some change for gas? I need to get myself away from this place I said yep what a concept I could use a little fuel myself And we could all use a little change

The final non-repeating section of the song represents a final struggle between Luthor’s materialistic outlook, only able to see ‘change’ and ‘fuel’ in crass physical, monetary terms, while the enlightened Superman - transformed by his own process of personal growth and forthcoming elevation to solar deity - is capable of discerning a deeper meaning. That this is framed as an exchange, and more specifically an education, hints at Lex’s lesson at the hands of his senses in the worthwhile of the immaterial, divine unity of humanity that will prompt his transformation into Quintum, tying the story in a neat loop. Incidentally, the prospect of ‘change’ as monetary value while not a prominent factor in All-Star Superman will go on to have significant roles in both his major subsequent Superman works, Action Comics and Multiversity (the latter of which by his own admission evokes All-Star in its Thunderworld Adventures chapter, going on to reckon with the capitalistic give-and-take of commercial storytelling aiming for the type of enlightenment Morrison seeks to provide in its concluding issue), advancing the connections of the song to All-Star’s post-release impact as well as its text.

(Chorus repeats, concluding the song)

A final note: but the Meteor Men beg to differ is not only the most Jack Kirby-ass line that dude never wrote, but always reminds me of the 1993 Robert Townsend picture The Meteor Man, which I apparently viewed as a child and which I have always misremembered as having a direct connection to the 1978 Superman. I could swear I recall a bit of a picture being shown of a man with a meteor that’s the same picture of the man who found Kryptonite in the Donner film, the latter of which of course was a tremendous influence on All-Star Superman.

bering and wells, 326 :D

Just so you know, I’ve not written for this fandom or that ship in a long, long time and I am NOT good at fluff, but I figured I couldn’t exactly angst such a prompt ... Prompt picked up from that list 

326. “Why are you baking muffins at three in the morning?” 

H.G Wells was a lot of things, but a morning person she was not.

She liked beds more than an average human person should. Whether it be to sleep, to read, to think or to do a whole and vast variety of unholy activities that often led to more sleep, she enjoyed the comfort of a firm but not too firm mattress, the warmth of a thick but not too heavy duvet, the delicately fashioned imprint of the pillow after she’d used it for so long that it was then specially made for her head, the softness of expensive and non irritating sheets against her naked skin and above all, she loved the peace and quiet that came with the night, especially during the very first few hours of the morning.Which is why, when a rather loud banging and clattering jolted her awake, when she bleared-eyedly glanced at the analog clock on the opposite nightstand and eventually processed the 2:46am spread on the small screen in big, bold, neon red numbers, she let out a string of long British curses that could have made a Victorian whore blush and flee.

As she threw the blankets away to get out of bed, her muscles ached and not in a good way, which provoked a new string of swear words, all more sophisticated than the first few ones.

The pain was a little souvenir of their latest artifact-hunting trip in the middle of Wyoming, where Pete, Myka, Claudia and herself went to retrieve the original edition of the comic that featured Supergirl’s very first appearance. Finding the artifact had been a piece of cake but when they finally discovered what abilities it gave the owner, they had to call Artie to ask him to book a few more nights at the motel they were staying in. Apparently, the creators of Supergirl’s characters had a blast building up the man of steel’s older cousin, because any woman who was in possession of the comic was suddenly gifted with all of Supergirl’s powers. For years, the original edition of this particular comic had been the centrepiece of a private collector’s collection but when he died, his niece Marley inherited everything, and she’d grabbed the comic with the intent of selling it to the highest bidder.That was until she found out she could fly, fire laser beams out of her eyes, freeze anything and everyone to death, regenerate but above all, she realized she was indestructible. So, she kept the comic and read it everyday, since it was the only way to make her power last. The downside was that, the more she had and used her powers, the more she aged under her newly found Kryptonian metabolism.

The human underneath the powers was ageing alarmingly fast, in addition to getting sick from having those unnatural abilities.

Which explained why, after a few days of getting beaten up by a super strong, artifact induced alien, Helena’s body was still sore and a little broken.

In the end, it took Pete’s knowledge of the comics to help Claudia and her brother make some kind of Kryptonite, and then Myka and Helena managed to trap and hit the wannabe Supergirl with the green substance, before they could get to the artifact and finally seal it.

They’d all come back the previous day and Helena, after a much-needed hot shower, had finally crashed in her bed next to Myka.

Myka, who wasn’t in the bed anymore and when another loud clang echoed through the whole house, Helena abandoned all hope of ever getting back to her peaceful slumber. Grabbing one of Myka’s hoodies on the chair next to the bathroom door, she pulled it on, added a pair of panties and then she went out to find her lover.

Slowly climbing down the stairs, she didn’t turn on any light, guiding herself with her memories as she was more than familiar with the layout of the house. She’d been living in their joint home for the past three years, ever since she came back after the Boone disaster, finally admitting to Myka that she’d been wrong and that she couldn’t just ignore or dismiss her feelings. She’d only asked for a chance but Myka, weary, broken and guarded, had almost turned her down.

Steve, Pete and Claudia had worked their magic on Myka, persuading her to give their relationship a shot. The first six months had been tense and hard, with Myka retreating back to her defensive self whenever Helena did something she didn’t agree with, which was a lot of the time, if not always. Eventually, when Myka almost died from a stray bullet in a shooting that occurred as they were trying to grab one particularly deadly artifact, things got better. Helena had been so terrified of losing Myka, she’d opened her heart when she thought the agent was unconscious. She had told her how much she loved her and how badly she wanted it to work, adding that she couldn’t change who she was but that she would try and do better. To which Myka, finally opening up her eyes to pull Helena out of her misery, had said she didn’t want her to change, she just wanted her to talk it out and communicate. Somewhere in the middle of that heavy, tearful and dread-filled conversation, Myka had said she loved her too.

Three years and some months later, Myka was up at three in the morning and Helena, who most definitely wasn’t a morning person, still had left her bed to come find her.  

She followed the halo of light coming from the kitchen and spilling onto the hard wooden floor of the living room, until she was finally meet with a incongruous sight that made her pause.Myka was dressed in her full jogging attire, right down to her worn-out running sneakers. Her wild curls barely tamed into a high ponytail, she was mixing some kind of dough into a bowl while humming something to herself, some kind of melody the inventor didn’t recognize. Helena took one distracted glance at the kitchen and her eyes widened even more. Her usually perfectly ordered and immaculate kitchen was a mess, with flour spread on almost every available surface, with soiled bowls and opened ingredients thrown in various spots, and something sticky was even dropping from the counter’s edge onto the floor, near the open dishwasher. It looked a lot like egg white, but Helena couldn’t be sure. Sugar was also littering the counter island, along with chocolate chips. A muffin mold with six spots, all still empty as far as Helena could tell, seemed to be waiting for the dough in the middle of the disaster.

Tentatively, Helena stepped closer to the battlefield that was her kitchen and called out.  “Darling? Did a few leprechauns break in and turn the kitchen upside down when they couldn’t find any gold?”

Myka only turned her head, not even startled by Helena’s voice. The inventor figured she must have heard her come in. Myka always seemed to know where Helena was, in the room, without ever needing to look.

“As much as I’d love to blame anyone else, the mess around here is all mine, sadly,” Myka answered with a tilt of her head and that crooked little smile that, even after all the years they’d known each other, still made Helena’s stomach flutter.

“Righty-oh then. Care to explain to me why you are baking … muffins? A three in the morning?” Helena asked, venturing a little further inside of her kitchen and grimacing when she felt grains of sugar and chocolate chips under her bare feet.

“I went for a run, I couldn’t sleep but when I got home, I still couldn’t sleep and I figured you’d like some baked goods in the morning …” Myka distractedly explained, still mixing up the dough as if it was some kind of evil monster she needed to put down.

“You couldn’t sleep? How is that even possible? You passed out way before me, which I didn’t think was possible …” Helena blinked, confused and a little worried. Myka had always been a light sleeper and an early riser but she’d been having a lot of insomnia lately and it was straining her, splitting her focus and wearing her thin.

“Yes I know, but then I was up before one and running didn’t calm me enough, so I came home. Obviously, I should have tried to read a book …” Myka mumbled and finally let the dough alone, putting the bowl down to go retrieve the mold. Helena watched in horror as Myka tried to pour the almost liquid dough in the different spots, making a true mess of it.

“Obviously,” Helena snarked as she mentally resigned herself to see her kitchen suffer through the Myka storm.

“I’ll clean up, don’t worry. Go back to sleep,” Myka offered, dropping the bowl into the already full sink.

“Yes well, you just put everything in the sink …” Helena pointed out and when Myka arched a confused brow, not seeing the point, she sighed. “The dishwasher is literally two steps away and it’s open, and empty. I purposely enhanced it so it could handle your rare yet frantic attempts at cooking … which seems to be the case today.”

Myka glanced at the dishwasher and then shrugged, before grabbing gloves to place the mold into the hot oven. Helena was very surprised and little impressed that Myka had remembered to put the oven on beforehand.

“Alright darling, I’ll help you clean up. Just, put everything you placed in the sink into the dishwasher instead, I’ll take care of the actual cleaning part …” Helena sighed, getting closer to Myka as she spoke. “Then, once my kitchen is back to her shining new natural state, I’ll take you to bed and we’ll see if I can wear you out enough for you to be sleepy again …”

Helena didn’t miss the very interested gleam in her lover’s eyes and smirked.

“Uh uh, that comes after the cleaning,” Helena warned and Myka broke out the puppy eyes and the pout, which could have worked if Helena didn’t look away the moment she figured what it was. “No, you can’t sway me. Come along darling, let’s get my kitchen back to its rightful state and then off to bed with you.”

To soften the blow of her sassy comments, Helena placed a soft kiss at the corner of Myka’s lips. It was gentle and sweet, but all too brief. She took one step back and then brushed past her lover on her way to the sink, to grab a sponge.

By the time they were finally done with the cleaning, the muffins were ready. Helena pulled the mold out of the oven, turned it off and deposited the baked goods on the countertop. They looked good, which was some kind of a miracle given what Helena had witnessed of their conception.

“Well, I can’t wait to taste them but for now, let’s go to bed darling,” Helena offered, walking around the island to intertwine her fingers with Myka’s. She drew her lover closer and lovingly kissed her, before pulling away.

Then, just as they were about to exit the kitchen, Myka yawned.

Claire

There was nothing quite like it on Krypton.

All the children on Earth spoke of it, obsessed over it, until it eventually bled into a curriculum Claire had already deemed mundane.

The teacher had insisted it be made on thick obscenely coloured card stock and it was an atrocity not even leaded glasses could shield. Glitter and glue littered the tables of her classmates. Nothing about it impressed Claire, least of all when it stuck to her pale blue card stock.

Still blank.

“Claire, honey, is something wrong?”

The tone was all soft, childish, and it felt every part demeaning. Claire knew that was not the intention. But on Krypton she had taken the Earthenly equivalent of advanced astrophysics and was learning the mechanisms by which the birthing matrix operated.

She was not the child Earth seemed apt to treat in the softest of ways, coddled into adulthood.

“No.”

In all honesty, nothing was wrong. Claire simply saw no value in participating. She was not of this world and she found its customs arbitrary, unfit for the trajectory she would one day face.

“Then why is your card empty, dear? If you need help-”

“What is the purpose of this?”

Grimace pressed into her brow, Claire motioned to the pale blue card stock and the assortment of common crafting supplies. Stuck to the corner of her card was an orange pipe cleaner Claire certainly had not put there.

“Claire, we’re making Mother’s day cards.”

It was the same, annoyingly repetitive, response that had not magically morphed into meaning. If she knew the purpose of a card, presented on an apparent day called “Mother’s Day”, Claire would not ask. But she did not and the annoying upward curl of her teacher’s lips chagrined Claire all the more.

“Why must one make their mother a card? Least of all one that looks like an atrocity, born of the rare defect in the birthing matrix?”

The owlish regard spoke little and the awkward laughter felt forced.

“In America, we make cards, dear. I’m sure your Mother will appreciate the sentiment.”

It took all the restraint Claire possessed to not inform her teacher, ill fit for the instruction and molding of young minds, that Krypton had ended in catastrophe and her mother no longer existed.

“I still think this is stupid.”

* * *

“How was school?”

Claire sat in the passenger seat with a huff.

“Catastrophic. I feel my potential squandered. This glitter is terrible.”

After the card debacle, the day had only seemed to drag on, fraught with minor mathematical equations and limited explanations of space. If Claire were charged with the instruction of her fellow students, Earth would surely be a better place. It was appalling, the substandard bar set by the human race.

Soft laughter echoed through the car, calming and capable of stilling the thoughts Claire had let run rampant.

“Don’t tell Kara, she loves glitter. Adores it actually. I can remember the time I found them on the underside of my surfboard. I still don’t know how; I had just come in from a surf!”

Claire hummed, the dynamic unclear to her as well. But then again, the glitter seemed infectious and easily spread. An epidemic of extreme proportions.

“But that isn’t it, is it? Claire?”

Part of Claire detested it. How Alex held the capacity to see through her lies and sense her discomforts. It reminded Claire too much of her mother - how her features would soften and how she always just seemed to know.

Claire swallowed back the lump of emotions that clung to her throat, thick and suffocating.

“May we speak on it later?”

It was impossible to miss the concerned look, but Claire drew comfort from the warm hand upon her own and the gentle squeeze.

“Of course.”

* * *

“Claire!”

Rolling her eyes, Claire accepted the exuberant hug with painted reluctance.

It still felt odd to be wrapped in the embrace of an alter dimensional self.

On numerous occasions, Claire caught herself fixated on the very plausibility of their coexistence. If it wasn’t for the biological confirmation using Kryptonian technologies and near mirror image, Claire would have claimed it an improbability, opting for distance over familiarity.

They were different; down to some of their most basic modus operandi. And yet, at times, Claire observed the markings of her mother, seemingly imprinted into their molecular structure.

“Claire?”

Snapping her attention to the bodies present, Claire sighed.

“I must apologize. I was not attentive to your words. I just-,”

The smears of glitter and orange pipe cleaner on pale blue cardstock burned like kryptonite particulates, an unintentional exposure Claire never wished to repeat. But unlike the full body paralysis the particulate exposure had incurred, this gripped at her chest, swelled in her stomach and made her footing feel impossibly rooted. This made her yearn for home.

Whether it was the home of her mother’s arms or the home of Alex and Kara’s, Claire no longer knew.

“I-,”

Extracting the unintentionally glitter covered confection, Claire huffed. It was that or weep and Claire was most certainly done weeping. Children wept and Claire was no longer a child. Or so her father had told her.

“I do not understand this world and most of its customs. Today, I spent the most horrific of times covered in this white tacky substance, pestered by long fluffy impractical pipes and dusted in the most toxic haze of sparkling colours that serve no true purpose.”

It ached, to hold the tender gazes, patient and understanding where Claire was not, gripped by anger and childlike petulance. But Claire refused to cower, to back down. No matter how awful it felt, burrowed deep into the confines of her chest and unseeingly suffocating on her lungs.

“It was belittling and of no true purpose to formulate a gift for a mother I no longer possess.”

Through the unwanted moisture gathering in her eyes, Claire noted the restrained stance Kara held, undoubtedly willing her body not to crush Claire in the most reassuring of embraces, to coo away her fears and kiss away her tears. Alex appeared to be faring no better.

“As I began though, I imagined mother and her comforting embrace. And then I imagined you - Alexandra Danvers of Earth and Kara Danvers formerly of Krypton - and I knew. While I may have lost my mother, I gained in surrogate two. So here.”

Claire hadn’t meant to shove the card, crumbled by the careless manner she had stowed it in her bag. But she did and with baited breath, she waited.

The crushing embraces, ladened with tears and cooing reassurances, swelled in her chest, ballooning in an oddly comforting way. It made Claire feel loved, cared for in a world where she had lost so very much.

As Claire listened, Kara reciting the contents of the card, it felt fitting. Because on Earth, alternative dimensional selves aside, Alex and Kara… Claire believed them worthy of the words for a mother, recited before Rao when gifted with a child. A high Kryptonian honour.

“I swear by Rao the light and life, by Vohc-The-Builder, by Flamebird, by Nightwing, and by all the gods and goddesses, making them my witnesses, that I will carry out, according to my ability and judgement, this oath and this indenture-,”

Could you write a fic where Alex gets powers (temporarily or permanently, either works)? Chapter Text “Agent Danvers,” J’onn radioed in through the comms. “Have you finished your sweep of the building?” “One floor left. Nothing yet,” Alex responded as she motioned for Alpha team to head up the stairs to the top floor. With every floor she grew increasingly frustrated. Sure, they’d found plenty of weapons, but that wasn’t enough to justify the level of security that had been in place. There had to have been a reason for Cadmus’ increasingly desperate attempts to defend this building with stockpiles of alien technology, lead-lined walls, and Kryptonite emitters. And the DEO had been monitoring the whole building during the siege, making sure no one left with whatever was being stored inside. As they stormed the top floor, guns out in case anything had been left behind as a final defense mechanism, Alex’s eyes landed on a shabby wooden crate in the back corner of the room, as though whoever had left it had intended for it to look as unremarkable as possible. Moving forward quickly, Alex threw off the lid of the crate, stepping back in case it was an explosive. But nothing happened. She inched forward again, two of her agents flanking her on either side. “It’s a…watch?” Agent Hu declared, the confusion evident in his voice. Stepping forward, Alex reached out to pick up the watch to bring it back to the DEO for closer examination. But as soon as she touched it, the watch seemed to mold to her skin, settling around her wrist tightly—far too tightly for her to pry it off. She let Agent Hu try, but he too found himself tugging uselessly at a metal band that felt strong enough to be otherworldly. Trying not to let her concern show, Alex called over her comms to J’onn, letting him know what had happened and that she’d be back to the DEO as soon as she could. --- “Well, Agent Danvers, the watch hasn’t done anything harmful physically, at least,” Dr. Jacobson informed her, looking over at J’onn as he nodded in response. “We’ll continue to monitor you, but…” she paused, trying to find a diplomatic way to phrase her sentiments, “I assume you will not want to stay here until we do?” Alex was notorious around the med bay for her self-diagnoses and refusals to accept treatment if it meant she was stuck out of the field for longer than she deemed necessary. Alex shook her head vehemently. “Absolutely not.” “I don’t want you going out on any missions until we know what this watch does. Do I make myself clear, Agent Danvers?” J’onn said, looking sternly at Alex. “Yes,” Alex sighed. “Now I’m going down to my lab to see if I can’t get it off or at least figure out what it does.” “Take Schott with you.” “Fine.” -- “What happens if you press the button?” Winn asked, gesturing at the button on the side of the watch. Alex glared at Winn. “And if it blows up? I’m just going to stand here and die because you wanted to know what the button does?” Winn had the decency to look away sheepishly. “Perhaps, um, have you tried x-raying it?” “Kara looked inside of it. As far as she could tell, there was nothing that should explode…” Before Alex could agree to something that might very well kill her, Kara flitted through the door and interjected: “But Kara doesn’t know the full breadth of alien technology available. Which is why I went to the Fortress first.” She stood there beaming at them until Alex finally asked what she found. “It appears to be similar to technology that was manufactured by the Dokris race. They can time travel,” she added, seeing the looks of confusion on both Alex’s and Winn’s faces. “Oh my god,” Winn exhaled. “Can Alex time travel now?” “Wait…can I?” Alex asked. As much as she understood that there would probably be terrible consequences for changing history, she couldn’t help herself from thinking about the possibilities… Of course, that led very quickly to the what ifs—what if she hadn’t killed Astra, what if she had recognized that something was off about her father when they got him back, what if she hadn’t gone flying with Kara when they were young, hadn’t let them be spotted by the real Hank Henshaw, hadn’t forced her father to sacrifice his life to the DEO to protect Kara. She shook herself out of it, forcing herself not to dwell on such possibilities. “I doubt it,” Kara answered. “They were time travelers as…who they were, if that makes sense. It wasn’t like they had some sort of device that did it for them. They just…did. This is similar to their technology, but I can’t tell exactly how. It would be best if I take you to the Fortress,” she concluded, looking up at Alex. “Then Kelex will be able to analyze the watch, even though you can’t take it off.” “Okay,” Alex shrugged. In a flurry of movement and a gust of wind, Kara was gone and back with a warm winter coat and gloves in tow. “Ready?” Alex nodded and felt herself being scooped up in Kara’s arms as the floor, then the DEO disappeared beneath them as they rose higher and higher into the sky. --- “So…you can stop time?” Kara asked, her eyes wide. “Apparently.” Part of Alex was relieved that she wouldn’t have the temptation to turn back time, to try to adjust the parts of her life she wasn’t exactly proud of. But she was still wary of whatever this new power was—whatever it might mean for her. “Should we test it?” Kara asked, looking more excited than Alex felt. Never one to admit to her nerves, Alex nodded. Holding her breath, she hit the button, then looked up and around her. For a moment, nothing seemed different. Kara was still staring at her; Kelex was hunched over the computer; and that was…about it. But when Alex moved, Kara’s eyes didn’t follow. When she peered outside, she saw snowflakes frozen in their descent. She tried calling out to Kara, but got no response. Thinking of how productive she might be, she grinned, only to pause in a momentary panic. What if the button didn’t reverse it? What if she was now doomed to live out the rest of her life alone, trapped in a frozen world that waited for her to what? Waited for her to die? When she hit the button, though, Kara snapped back to life. “Did it work?” “Yeah!” Alex exclaimed, letting herself feel truly excited for the first time. “And you…you don’t feel any different, right?” “No,” Kara answered, levitating and testing her powers a bit to make sure. “Seems perfectly fine to me.” “Awesome.” --- “Maggie!” Alex called out, striding through the front door. “In the kitchen!” Maggie called back. “You’ll never believe what happened.” “Well, with a lead like that, it better be good,” Maggie chuckled, wiping her hands off on the towel and turning to greet Alex with a kiss. “Ooh, where’d you get that watch? Very lesbian chic. I’m into it.” Laughing, Alex kissed Maggie again. “That’s actually the story! Well, no, sorry, the watch isn’t the whole story. At least, not the way you’re thinking about it.” She shook her head, trying not to ramble. “So long story short: there was a raid on a Cadmus facility. This watch is what they were protecting. When I went to take it back to the DEO, it latched onto me. No physical harm. Kara took me to the Fortress. I press this button here, and I freeze time.” “What?” “I freeze time!” Maggie looked slightly incredulous, so Alex kept going. “It’s from this race of time travelers. I guess sometimes they needed a way to freeze things with everyone being able to jump in and out of the future and the past. I don’t know. Point is: I can freeze time! Think about how much work I can get done!” “Only you would think of that first, Danvers.” Alex blushed, but Maggie just laughed. Because this was exactly the woman she fell in love with. “Want to see?” Alex asked, looking more than a little excited. “Sure,” Maggie shrugged. With a nod, Alex reached down and hit the button. “See!” she exclaimed to no one in particular. Only, Maggie wasn’t frozen. “Um, I don’t think it works that well, babe.” “No! I swear, it worked this morning!” Alex spluttered, looking around, turning her wrist to look at the watch from every direction. She was too busy to notice Maggie’s jaw dropping, to see the way she took in her surroundings—the water on the stove frozen mid-boil, the bird floating motionlessly outside their window, the oven timer stopped at 13:28 until their food would be ready. “Alex…” “I swear,” Alex whined. “Alex,” Maggie repeated more insistently, tugging on Alex’s sleeve. “It does work.” At that, Alex finally looked up, surveying their apartment and the view from their window, which now essentially overlooked a hyperrealistic still life. “But you…you’re not frozen.” Maggie didn’t have an answer for that. Alex tried to think about what was different. It couldn’t have been the fact that they were in the same room; after all, she had been with Kara the first time in the Fortress. But then it hit her: Maggie had been touching her. “Can I test something?” Alex asked, always a scientist, always needing to confirm, to test, to retest. “Um, okay,” Maggie nodded. Stepping away from Maggie, Alex unfroze them, glad to find that everything went right back to the way it was, even if she and Maggie weren’t clinging to one another. Staying a distance away, Alex clicked the button once more, watching as Maggie remained frozen in place while she walked around the apartment. When she clicked back, Maggie’s jaw dropped, finding Alex all the way across the room. Intent on testing it just one more time, Alex came back and took Maggie’s hand in hers. “Together?” “Together,” Maggie confirmed. And then time froze for them. And, like any good couple, they seized the occasion to fuck with no worries about wasting time, no worries about emergency phone calls from the DEO or NCPD, no concerns about neighbors complaining about volume or Kara complaining about mental images she’d never be able to rid herself of, even though she was the one who flung herself through the balcony windows without calling first. For a while, that was all they really used it for. The doctors at the DEO kept an eye on Alex’s vitals (and Maggie’s, once Alex accidentally let slip that she had let another person escape time with her). She was beyond relieved when the doctors found that they weren’t aging more rapidly or experiencing any side effects that would have made their timeless sexcapades too dangerous to continue. Of course, she didn’t say what they were using the watch to do, though Lena and Lucy had insinuated heavily enough at the bar that they knew damn well what they would do if they got their hands on such a watch. For once, Alex was glad that all the DEO tech in the world still hadn’t been able to pry the watch from her wrist. It wasn’t until she was out in the field with Kara going up against a particularly nasty alien that she thought to use her watch as her own superpower of sorts. Grabbing hold of Kara’s wrist before the alien could reach her, Alex jammed her finger against the button, watching as the world froze once more, save for her and Kara. “Alex,” Kara breathed out. “That’s amazing!” Alex preened and nodded, glad to have found yet another way to help her sister, to ensure her safety out in the field. --- When they got back from the mission, Winn was practically glowing with excitement, having heard the chatter from the other DEO agents about the way Supergirl and Agent Danvers seemed to move faster than time itself, how they went from nearly losing to toppling the alien in mere nanoseconds. “What do you want, Schott?” Alex asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. “Well…with your new superpowers and all, I think it’s probably only fair that you get a name…and a suit.” Kara snickered. “I take it you have some suggestions?” Winn nodded enthusiastically. “I swear they’re good!” Pacing forward menacingly, Alex pointed a finger at Winn’s chest. “Now, this is not a yes. But I need you to know: if you so much as try to put me in a miniskirt, I will demonstrate the six new, but equally painful ways I have of making you change your mind using only my wristwatch and my index finger.” “Yep, okay, got it!” Winn squeaked.