#the ‘help is on the way dear’ sound but it’s lois coming to save clark’s ass whether he needs it or not
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clark knows how to pick his battles
#the ‘what took you so long’ sent me#the ‘help is on the way dear’ sound but it’s lois coming to save clark’s ass whether he needs it or not#man experienced real fear#clark kent#superman#smallville#lois lane#chloe sullivan#tom welling#erica durance#allison mack#dc comics
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A Pipe Dream
The Flash stars in: A Pipe Dream
Dramatis Personae
Wally West, the garrulous, impulsive, and friendly third Flash
Joan Garrick, Jay Garrick’s wife, who is patient, loving, and supportive of everyone
Iris Allen, Barry Allen’s wife, an inquisitive daredevil reporter
The Pied Piper, alias Hartley Rathaway, a Robin Hood-esque thief
The Top, alias Roscoe Dillon, an arrogant, elitist, and top-obsessed criminal
Weather Wizard, alias Mark Mardon, an overconfident, rather stupid robber
Heat Wave, alias Mick Rory, a dim, shockingly gentle pyromaniac
Script
Act I
(Joan and Iris are onstage)
Iris: So, how’s Jay?
Joan: He’s doing well enough, I suppose, but, to be honest, I’m a little worried about him. He keeps claiming that he’s retired from crime fighting, but every time I turn around, he’s wearing that silly hat of his and racing off to fight bank robbers or carjackers or giant, murderous, telepathic gorillas. It was one thing when he was fifty, but now he’s 99 years old, and the doctors say that his heart won’t be able to take much more of his running at super speed.
Iris: What does he say about that?
Joan: That (strikes a heroic pose) “ it will be a pleasure to die in the line of duty.”
Iris: (Laughs) That sounds just like Barry.
Joan: I know, and it’s not funny. Our husbands spend so much time saving everyone else that they never stop to worry about themselves.
Iris: I guess that’s true-but hey, that’s part of what we’re here for, to make sure our husbands take some “me time” occasionally.
Joan: In speaking of husbands, how’s Barry?
Iris: He’s not doing so well. He came down with the flu a few days ago, and I’ve been going crazy trying to keep him from leaving his bed so that he can go fight crime.
Joan: Oh, I’ve had that happen with Jay before. Once, when he had pneumonia, he heard about a shoplifting ring, and I had to call in Ted and Alan-you know them as Wildcat and the original Green Lantern-to physically restrain him so that he wouldn’t leave the house to go stop them.
Iris: Well, I haven’t had to resort to calling the Justice League to restrain Barry yet, so things could be worse.
Joan: You’re right. Things could be worse. We could be having to deal with two sick speedsters each. Or a sick Superman!
Iris: Man, that would be a nightmare. I have no idea how that Lois Lane woman does it.
Joan: Maybe Clark just doesn’t get sick. After all, he isn’t a human, so maybe our diseases don’t affect him and he’s as invulnerable to getting sick as he is to everything else.
Iris: Maybe so.
(Enter Wally)
Wally: Hi, Joan. Hi, Aunt Iris. (Sneezes) How are you?
Iris: Hi, Wally. We’re doing all right. How are you?
Wally: I’m fine, but Linda and the kids all have the flu (Sneezes) and the twins also both have strep. (Sneezes) It sure is lucky that I don’t get sick, or we’d have a real mess on our hands.
Iris: Um, Wally, are you sure you’re not sick?
Wally: Yeah, I’m sure. (Sneezes three times) I never get sick. I had perfect attendance all throughout school, and you can check my records if you don’t believe me.
Joan: Can you at least try to take it easy, Wally?
Wally: I can’t do that! Jay’s retired and Uncle Barry has the flu, and someone has to protect the city! Besides, I can’t deny my adoring fans the chance to see me because I have a few sniffles. (Sneezes) I’ll be fine!
Iris: (To Joan) Is there a single superhero in the entire world who actually rests when they get sick?
Joan: Speaking from experience, I don’t think there is.
Wally: I said that I’m fine! (Sneezes) So, do you want to get lunch? I’m starving!
Iris: Wally, it’s 8:00 in the morning!
Wally: Okay, so let’s get brunch!
Iris: But I just ate breakfast!
Wally: I don’t follow. (Sneezes) I just ate breakfast, too, and I’m already hungry again.
Joan: Wally, dear, you have to consume 980,000 calories per day just to survive, so you have to eat almost constantly. We simply don’t have the appetite or the metabolism to keep up with you.
Wally: Oh, right. I forget that fact a lot-especially (Sneezes) since my kids inherited my metabolism and have to (Sneezes) eat even more than I do.
Iris: It’s all right, Wally.
Wally: So, um, do you want to go to McDonalds with me (Sneezes) and watch me eat? With Linda and the kids all sick, I’ve been cooped up in the house for a week, and I’m going stir-crazy!
Iris: I suppose so. After all, with Barry sick, I haven’t been able to get out much, either.
Joan: I’ll go, too. After all, if you really are sick despite your claims, someone needs to keep an eye on you so that you don’t run yourself into the ground.
Wally: Great! I love you guys so much, and I can’t wait to sink my teeth into (Sneezes) 340 Big Macs! I love McDonalds food!
Iris: (Shakes head) Never change, Wally. Never change.
(Exit All)
Act II
(The Pied Piper is onstage, playing an instrument. Enter the Top)
Top: Top of the morning to you, Piper.
Piper: Oh, good, you were able to make it. Did you have any trouble getting here?
Top: No. There is not a person in this city who would dare inconvenience the Top.
Piper: What about our friends in the red pajamas?
Top: Don’t make me laugh, Piper. The old one is feeble and retired, the young one is impulsive and stupid, and the only one that poses a threat has the flu, and therefore cannot be on top of his game. They could not bother me if they tried. What of you, my friend? Are you still in tip- top shape, or has your life spun out of control?
Piper: I’m as fit as a fiddle, Roscoe. The Flashes have no reason to hunt down a peaceable man who steals money from drug lords and self-absorbed starlets and gives it to the poor. In fact, if I could only make them realize that the real villains are the members of the 1% who enrich themselves at the expense of the poor, we would be good friends.
Top: But I heard you were homeless?
Piper: I am.
Top: How, exactly, did that come to pass?
Piper: Well, after my last heist, I was going to buy an apartment for myself, but while I was on my way to buying it, I saw a very pregnant woman with two small children crying, and when I asked her what was wrong, she told me that she was trying to escape from her abusive boyfriend but that she had no money, and so I gave her the money and told her to use it to make a good life for herself and her children, and so I was unable to buy anything.
Top: You gave all of the money away?
Piper: Of course! They needed it more than I did.
Top: You, sir, are a fool. This is the fifth time that you have given up a permanent home to help some wretch-the fifth time!
Piper: Roscoe, you of all people should understand what it is like to be an outcast. How can you criticize my desire to help others that the world has forgotten?
Top: Because I am a genius, something that decidedly does not apply to the people for whom you constantly risk your freedom and your own safety.
Piper: Roscoe, my early life was spent in scandalous luxury, luxury that my parents took at the expense of the poor who helped build their empire. It’s only fair that I go without to help them now. (Pause) So, do you know if anyone else is coming to our little meeting?
Top: No. I do not concern myself with the behavior of lesser men like them.
(Enter Heat Wave)
Heat Wave: Hi, Piper! Hi, Top! Seeing you two really warms my heart! (Hugs Piper)
Piper: Mick, I love hugs, but…I….can’t….breathe!
Heat Wave: Oh, sorry. (Releases him)
Piper: Hi, Mick. How have you been?
Heat Wave: I’m okay. I was burning up with fever a couple days ago, but I’m all better now.
Piper: I’m glad to hear that. Do you know if any of the others are coming?
Heat Wave: Captain Cold won’t be here. He’s got a bad case of the chills , and besides, he’s still in prison, and so is Mirror Master. They say hi.
Piper: And what about Glider?
Top: My love is on vacation in the Bahamas. She won’t be able to come.
Piper: Wait. I thought you said that you didn’t know if anyone else could come!
Top: Did I? Oh. My apologies.
Piper: (To Heat Wave) Do you know if Digger is coming?
Heat Wave: He won’t be coming. He broke his leg and told me that he didn’t feel like messing with crutches when I brought him chocolate and flowers.
Piper: Okay, and what about Mardon?
Heat Wave: I don’t know. Last I heard, he was feeling a little under the weather.
(Enter Weather Wizard)
Wizard: Nope, I’m as right as rain!
Piper: Hi, Mark!
Wizard: Hi, Piper! Hey, Mick.
Heat Wave: How’ve you been? I heard you were sick.
Wizard: Nope. I’ve just been taking it easy.
Top: What a surprise.
Wizard: What’s that supposed to mean?
Top: It means that you are a lazy fool who hasn’t done a day’s work in his life.
Wizard: Am not! Why, I stole an entire tractor-trailer full of sports cars in an hour once!
Top: Yes, by sitting on your couch and allowing a tornado to detach the trailer from the cab of the truck and deliver the loot to your house.
Wizard: So? You can’t fault me for conserving energy!
Top: “Conserving energy”, my foot.
Wizard: What’s the matter, Top? Are you jealous of my power?
Top: No. I simply think it is wasted on a man who uses it only to commit petty thefts.
Wizard: (Raises weather wand) Petty? (Waves wand) I’ll show you petty! (Thunderclap)
Heat Wave: Whoa there, Mark, let’s not get hasty. I don’t want you to do something in the heat of the moment that you’ll regret-like destroying this building with all of us in it!
Piper: Mick’s right, Mark. It’s too dangerous to get into a fight here.
Wizard: (Lowers weather wand) Fine. But if you expect me to take his stupid comments forever, you’re chasing rainbows, Piper.
Piper: (to Top) Roscoe, please don’t antagonize Mark. You really don’t want him to make you face the music .
Top: I am not afraid of him, Piper.
Wizard: Well, you should be, because if you don’t start respecting me, our little truce will be nothing more than the calm before the storm!
Top: Whatever you say, Mardon. Whatever you say. (Pause) Shall we get down to business?
Heat Wave: Yeah, we should. Who has a plan for our next heist?
Piper: I do, actually, so if you don’t mind, I’ll be calling the tune on this job. You see, some friends of my parents are importing some very fine jewelery, and I think that those jewels will make for a tidy sum for the poor….
Act III
(Wally, Iris, and Joan are sitting at a table)
Wally: Boy, that was delicious! (Sneezes) I don’t care what Uncle Barry says-McDonalds has the best food in the world!
Joan: It isn’t exactly the healthiest food, you know.
Wally: Yeah, I know-but with the way I burn calories (Sneezes) , it isn’t going to hurt me any!
Iris: Um, I’m not sure that’s how it works, Wally.
Wally: Well, even if it isn’t, I’m young and it tastes good, so who cares?
Joan: I do, for one.
Iris: And so do I.
Wally: Good grief! When are you two (Sneezes) going to stop treating me like a little kid?
Iris: Wally, I watched you grow up. It’s going to take awhile for me to adjust-especially when you keep acting like a crazy teenager.
Wally: I don’t act like a crazy teenager! (Sneezes) I act like a crazy adult!
Joan: Wally, there isn’t much difference between a crazy teenager and a crazy adult.
Wally: Oh, yeah? (Sneezes) Prove it!
Joan: The Trickster.
Wally: Yeah, you’ve pretty much got me there. (Sneezes) Sorry I’m so annoying.
Joan: It’s all right. You’re not annoying most of the time, dear.
Iris: Just some of the time.
Wally: I love you guys. (Sneezes) So, what should we do next?
Iris: We could go shoe shopping. I’ve been needing a new pair of heels.
Wally: No! Not shoe shopping! Linda’s taken me on enough shoe shopping trips to last a lifetime! (Sneezes)
Iris: I was only kidding, Wally.
Wally: Good. Oooh, why don’t we get ice cream?
Joan: You can get ice cream. It probably isn’t a good idea for us to get it.
Wally: Yes! (Disappears, then returns with ice cream and cake)
Joan: Where did you get the cake from?
Wally: China. (Sneezes) They make everything there these days.
Iris: (Laughs) You ran all the way to China just to get cake?
Wally: Well, I was aiming for Hungary, but I overshot.
Joan: How did you overshoot Hungry? You have a full-time residency there.
Wally: Huh? (Pauses, then laughs) Oh, I get it! That’s hilarious, Joan!
Joan: Why thank you, Wally. I think you and your aunt are rubbing off on me.
Iris: I’m glad we decided to do this. Barry’s a dear, but when he gets sick, he can be a bit of a nightmare.
Wally: Wait, Uncle Barry can be a nightmare?
Iris: Believe it or not, yes. Now, he’s not rude or whiny, but he keeps trying to leave his bed and stop crimes instead of resting so that he can get well, and it’s very irritating to make him stay put, because he gives me these really sad puppy dog eyes when I tell him to stay at home.
Wally: Hah! I knew he (Sneezes) had a weakness besides punctuality!
Joan: All three of you have that weakness, Wally.
Wally: I do not! (His phone rings) Sorry. I need to take this. (Pulls out phone) Hello, Commissioner? The Rogues? What are they doing? Mmm-hmm. Uh-huh. All right. I’ll be there as soon as possible, Commish! (Sneezes) You’re welcome. Good-bye. (Puts away phone) Sorry, guys, I’ve gotta run! The Rogues are trying to steal some jewelry, and I need to stop them.
Iris: No problem, Wally. Go get them!
Joan: And be careful!
(Exit Wally)
Iris: You know, just once, I would like to have an outing that isn’t interrupted by criminals, the Rogues, telepathic gorillas, or aliens who want to take over the world.
Joan: I fully agree with you, Iris. (Pause) Would you like to go shoe shopping with me while he’s gone?
Iris: That sounds terrific, Joan.
Commercial Break!
Act IV
(Enter the Rogues, running)
Piper: (Yelling over his shoulder) Thank you for your generous donation to the poor, Mr. Englewood!
Top: Oh, that was terrific fun! I’m feeling on top of the world right now!
Heat Wave: You’re right, Top. There’s nothing like a nice heist with all of my bestest friends to give me those nice warm and fuzzy feelings.
Wizard: Tell me about it. I’m on cloud nine!
Top: What are you going to do with your money, Piper? I am going to buy a nice suit and some new tops for my collection.
Heat Wave: I’m going to buy some presents for all of my friends so that I can warm their hearts. I’m sure Captain Cold will love a new parka.
Top: I was not asking you, you imbecile.
Heat Wave: Oh. I’m sorry, Top.
Top: Just be sure it does not happen again.
Wizard: I’m going to buy me a new car so that I can finally get a girlfriend!
Top: That will never happen, Mark, and I was not asking you either.
Wizard: Well gee, thanks for destroying my ray of hope, Roscoe.
Top: Moron. (To Piper) Well, my friend? What are you going to do with your share of the loot?
Piper: I’m going to donate it to a charity for sick children. The cries of joy that will produce will be music to my ears.
Top: You are giving away your money again? (Pause) I do not believe you.
Piper: What’s so wrong about wanting to help people?
(Enter Wally)
Wally: Because you’re going about it all wrong, Piper.
Wizard: By the four seasons! It’s the Flash!
Top: Not to worry, Mardon. This one is a mere child. (To Wally) Spin.
Wally: Whoa! (Stumbles, but keeps his balance) You should become a ride at Disney World or something, Top, because you make me just as dizzy.
Heat Wave: It’s time for you to take the heat, Kid Flash! (Fires at Wally, who narrowly dodges)
Wally: No thanks!
Wizard: (Waves his wand) We’re too powerful for you to stop, Flash. Why don’t you take a rain check?
Wally: No way! Defeating a bunch of clowns like you will be a breeze!
Top: Perhaps. Then again, perhaps not. (Spins out of Wally’s way)
Heat Wave: This situation is too hot for you to handle, Flash! You should leave before you get hurt or something.
Wally: Get hurt by one of you? Yeah, right. (He sneezes, and Top grabs him from behind)
Top: You were saying?
Wizard: Nighty night, Flash. (Raises his wand, and Wally sneezes again, causing the wand to go flying out of his hand) My wand!
Wally: (Breaks free) Nice try, Mardon. (He handcuffs Wizard and Top to one another)
Heat Wave: Hey, nobody hurts my friends like that!
Wally: (Taps him on the shoulder) You need better friends. (Handcuffs him to a lamp)
Piper: Flash, I’m not going to fight you. I abhor violence, as a general rule, and I know as well as anyone that my musical hypnosis doesn’t work well on you. However, before you take me away, I want to ask you something. Mr. Englewood hardly needs more money, and everyone knows that his factories are some of the most hazardous in the country for his workers. Why is it so wrong that I take money from him and give it to children who are dying from preventable diseases because of lack of money? You can’t argue that he deserves it more than they do, and he’s wealthy enough that he won’t even miss the money we took from him. Can’t you at least let me give the money away before you take me to jail? Please?
Wally: Piper, if I’m being honest, part of me wants to let you, but here’s the thing. I can’t let you break the law in order to help people. I’m sorry.
Piper: That’s all right. You’re just doing what you were told is right. I can’t fault you for that.
(Wally handcuffs him)
Wally: A word of advice, Piper? If you really want to help the poor, and I think you do, I think you’ll find it more rewarding if you do it on the right side of the law.
(Exit Wally)
Wizard: Well, that was a bust.
Top: For once, Mardon, we agree about something.
Heat Wave: Hey, guys, look at the bright side! At least we’re all still together.
Wizard: True. Nobody can call us fair-weather friends!
Heat Wave: And you know what’s even better? When we go back to prison, we can see Captain Cold again!
Top: I’m thrilled.
Wizard: Aww, don’t be such a downer, Top. You should learn to see the silver lining.
Top: I hate you both.
Piper: (Aside) All I wanted was to give the poor justice. Why is that a crime? The idea of people like my parents helping the poor is just a pipe dream...isn’t it?
Act V
(Iris and Joan are onstage. Enter Wally)
Wally: Hi, Iris! Hi, Joan! (Sneezes)
Joan: Oh, hi, Wally. Are you all right?
Wally: I’m okay. (Sneezes) But I think you were right about me being sick. I just took my temperature, and I’m 114 degrees. (Sneezes)
Joan: 114? How are you still alive?
Wally: Because the baseline body temperature for speedsters is 107 degrees.
Joan: Oh, that’s right.
Iris: Were you able to stop the Rogues?
Wally: Yep! (Sneezes) They’re being transported back to prison now, and all the jewelry has been returned. (Sneezes)
Iris: So, what do you want to do now, Wally?
Wally: I want to go home and sleep. (Sneezes) Running around sick won’t help anything.
Iris: Yes! A hero finally sees reason!
Wally: (Sneezes) Oh, and one more thing? Would you mind (Sneezes) donating money to the Children’s Health Foundation? I have a certain….friend who would really appreciate it.
Joan: Of course we will, Wally.
Wally: Thanks. You two are the greatest! (Sneezes)
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WHAT: The whole city is watching the following live feed of Joker and Superman. As the choice is put to Clark, he hesitates, and Joker shows Clark just how serious he is.
WHO: Superman & Joker
WHEN: January 31st, 2021
SUPERMAN: It had been nearly a year and a half since he'd left Metropolis behind and relocated to Star City, simultaneously shedding his acceptance and cooperation with the hero ban in order to wear the cape again. He'd made that first appearance in a big way, but after years of Superman being off the map, acceptance of his return wasn't granted automatically. Long weeks had passed before he got even a trickle of what he'd once known in Metropolis - people calling out to him, asking him for help because they knew that he would come. It built from there. For every cry for help he answered, for every appearance he made doing his own work or the League's, more came. Now he was back to listening constantly and sometimes having to make the choice of what he could respond to and what had to go to someone else.
So it wasn't strange when a sharp, panicked voice cut through the noise just the night after Lois, Kara, and the others had left the city. If anything, he welcomed the distraction. Without them around, he had nothing to focus on but work. Within seconds, he'd gone out the window of his apartment in a streak of blue and red. The voice, a young woman by the sound of it, seemed to be retreating out of the city. The closer he got, the further it seemed, and soon he'd left Star City behind altogether. Some kind of kidnapping. That had to be it. As long as he could still hear her, he could reach her.
On he went until most signs of civilization had dropped away on either side of him. There was still a road, the voice, and power lines, though. It turned out that he was following all three. When he finally reached what seemed to be the place he was searching for, it led him to a warehouse situated by itself. Trucks were parked outside, though he couldn't see anyone moving among them, and a glance through what walls he could see through yielded nearly nothing.
"Help me, Superman!"
He broke the lock on a loading dock door in order to get inside and continue his pursuit.
JOKER: It was all in place. Today, the curtain rose and the show would go on and Joker was elated. He'd get his little peanut back, he would teach Superjerk a lesson and deal with Batman's continual distraction all in one fell swoop. It was time, after the puppet show, to do something that really put him back on the map. After all, he was tired of NOVA stealing the regard and attention that was rightfully his. Plus, he was beginning to think that people underestimated him and he wasn't having it. Why should he? He'd simply make them all see what a mistake that was.
Luring out Superman was a simple task. These noble types were always trying to save someone. And so Joker had given him someone to save. Of course, there would be no one in the warehouse but he and Superman. He and Clark Kent.
The moment he breached the dock, Joker sat at the control panel. Flicking a switch, he brought the live broadcast that was currently playing all over the city away from his prerecorded message and onto the man himself. Another button on his controls and the room that Clark was in, a holding room between the dock and the main building that had been specially rigged for this purpose--he needed to give Chuckie boy a raise--sealed both doors and clicked shut.
"My my, here he is. The man of the hour. You got that cue without me even having to prompt you." Another button and a clear hissing began as a thick green aerosol suddenly filled the room. "And now we can get one with the show, can't we?" Leaning forward to speak into the mic, Joker grinned with a sinister edge as he asked, "Tell me, Superman... what do you fear?" If only Scary were here to play along. He'd have to do him justice.
SUPERMAN: The young woman's voice fell silent as he actually reached the building. He was still scanning the walls, already working through where to search first, when the doors closed audibly behind him. Clark turned, brows furrowed. Getting out of that would be easy enough, but that wasn't the concern. Someone was watching him. Power plant or no, he'd detected no sensors on the door, and the place wasn't sophisticated enough for that.
The voice that answered him just moments later made him set his jaw. "Joker. What-" There was no time to finish the thought. As the gas poured into the room, Clark immediately began to cough. The sensation was nearly instant, and part of it was familiar enough by then that he recognized it. Nothing made him feel the way Kryptonite did, and the realization was like having ice water in his veins. It worked through his body quickly enough to have him doubling over in mere moments. The question went unanswered, though his head was swimming.
JOKER: No response. Not fun. Well, he would show Joker what he feared. The gas would act quickly on him. Now, to start to escalate. The door in front of him opened and he gave a bright grin. “Aaaaand showtime.”
“How will you ever get out, Superman? I guess the only way is forward.”
SUPERMAN: One of the most profound effects of Kryptonite was how heavy it made him feel. The sheer exertion moving his own body was like dragging himself through thick tar. Everything seemed like it was in slow motion, and it was all painfully exhausting.
It didn’t take him long to realize that there was more to it this time. As soon the shadows danced at the edges of the doorway, his mind was already playing tricks on him. Whispers of voices, all familiar, filled his head as he took those first few steps toward the door.
This is all your fault, Clark. It was Lois, Jon, his parents, Kara, Bruce, Diana...so many...all variations on a theme. You did this. He’d just stepped through the door when he spoke aloud, seemingly unaware that he was responding to people not there. “I didn’t mean it!”
JOKER: "Oh dear oh dear," Joker answered. "I'm sure you didn't. Not at all." Joker flipped another switch, grinning as he did so. The lights dropped out into complete blackness before the strobing began--bright, white and oppressive. All the things he needed to watch Clark Kent writhe. "But sometimes good intentions come up short."
In front of Clark, another door opened as Joker watched intently, ensuring that his feeds captured it all.
SUPERMAN: Clark lifted one arm to try to shield his eyes from the light, which had him quickly pressed against one of the walls. It left spots in his eyes, furthering the disorientation that already had him reeling, and the voices grew louder still. He alternated between muttering what sounded like pleas and practically shouting, “I thought it was the right thing! I thought-“ and so it went, until one of the doorways and the pulsing shadows grew and twisted until it looked like a body on the ground. He didn’t recognize it right away.
His Ma’s voice came to him again, disappointed and deafeningly loud in his ears. “You were supposed to help these people, Clark, and all you did was abandon them. You abandoned all of them.”
Another staggering step forward, past the shadow that wasn’t a shadow, finally let him see its face. Lois. Clark stumbled backward, falling the rest of the way through the door.
JOKER: And with Clark in place, Joker couldn't help but laugh over the intercom system as he watched the infallible 'Man of Steel' crumble into a crying little boy. And it had been all too easy. It had just taken a little watching. A little knowing and scheming. Not difficult at all, really. And now they'd see just what the Joker could put on. Funny, he had thought he'd been showing them all along, but apparently they had needed a refresher. So here he was.
When the lights came up, there was a simple set up. Large screen on the far end of the room, and two podiums evenly spaced apart featuring big red buttons. Option A and Option B. Either was sure to make a splash.
"Now that we're all warmed up and our mind is playing fuzzy tricks, how about we play a game, Superman? Whaddya say?" Leaning into the mic, his voice dropped into something dangerous. "Give you a hint: the only answer is yes."
SUPERMAN: Once he’d managed to tear his gaze from the shadowy figure of Lois on the ground, he squinted toward the podiums. He felt sick, like his very bones hurt. It took tremendous effort to pick himself up from the floor and more effort still to try to focus and figure out what was happening. He couldn’t, really.
Clark shook his head and closed his eyes, not wanting to see anything there. It all kept distracting him. Even with his eyes closed, though, there were still voices. “No...games.”
JOKER: "Ahhh, see it wasn't really a choice," Joker said before his grin turned mean. "That's so irritating, isn't it? When someone takes your choices away? When they decide for you?" He watched Clark through the screen he had set up before finally reaching the crux. "I, unlike some people, am a compassionate man. I know how hard it is to be told no even if the thing I want is natural as, say, a father and his daughter. So here's what I'll do for you, buddy. I'm gonna give you a big choice. So pay attention."
"Behind door number one is obvious. Superman is a man of the people, isn't he? So of course we should show him what he loves." Click click and the screen displayed the gathering of people standing in the center of Star City with their faces fixed on the large screen he had erected earlier that day to do the largest part of the broadcast. Every smaller screen connected to the cable he'd hijacked would also be showing his performance, but this one was the most substantial. "Here's Star City, Superman. Would you do anything you could to save it?"
SUPERMAN: As the screen turned on and he saw the small crowd, Clark shot a panicked look back over his shoulder, but the body he’d seen before was gone. Lois wasn’t there. Tricks...just tricks...He shook his head, trying again to force himself to focus, but he could only manage it for seconds at a time. In those few seconds, Joker’s words settled in. Lucy...Lucy, Lucy, this was about Lucy...
He walked sluggishly toward the screen like he meant to reach up and touch it. You were supposed to help these people, Clark. “...Always.”
JOKER: “Yes yes, always. Always the hero, aren’t you Superman?” Superman had a different modus operandi than Batman, and Joker was far more accustomed to the less emotional and more stoic responses he received from Bruce. With Clark, it was all new experience. Still, improv was one of the highest forms of comedy, wasn’t it? He learned on the fly.
“But a choice’s not much of a choice with only one option, right? You see, you have door number one, but what could be behind door number two?“
With that, the screen in front of Superman changed, and before the audience’s very eyes, an image of Harley came up. But not just Harley, because that wouldn’t be much of a reveal, would it? After all, Harley was always with Joker. “I’ve come to learn,” he said, more for the benefit of the onlookers than Clark Kent, “that Superman is really more of a family man than any of us could ever have guessed. So yes, he’ll save the city, but always? I guess we’ll see, because here we have my lovely Harley Quinn with Gazette journalist, Lois Lane, known attachée of Superman himself. Then we have Supergirl. And since this is a family affair we couldn’t leave out the kids. Lois Lane’s son, Jon, and Supergirl’s own little bundle of joy, joining us for her first appearance. As you can see, Harley’s strapped them up with high grade explosives. The button for Choice B will set them off. And Choice A? Choice A will set off a little present delivered by Joker’s hands from NOVA’s hearts: a nuclear bomb that’s been planted right under the city. You can only save one, Superman. The family you have left or the city that depends on you. Choose neither and they both blow.”
He paused, long and dramatic for effect, before leaning into whisper: “So... what’s it gonna be?”
SUPERMAN: Clark had only just really focused his eyes on the screen and the faces of the citizens when it changed. Joker’s words didn’t matter, they didn’t even really fully sink in. As Lois, Jon, Kara, and Eva came into view, he moved forward with heavy, sluggish steps and reached up toward the screen as though it might disappear like a mirage.
The Kryptonite was still in full effect, and whatever else had been in that had his heart and mind already racing. Clark looked back to the open doorway again. The flickering lights made him wince, and the sickening fear and dread he felt quickly conjured up new images with them. Lois, again, with lifeless eyes, holding onto Jon whose face he couldn’t see. A blonde figure with its back to him that could only be Kara was similarly motionless. The darkness that should have been only shadow was blood instead, rapidly spreading across the floor until it was nearly touching his feet.
He left his spot in front of the screen and stumbled back toward the bodies that weren’t really there to kneel by them. His hands caught only air when he reached for them and he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He’d made so many promises. Protect the city. Protect his family. He’d sworn to Kara not two days before that no one would hurt her, Eva, or any of them. He’d sent them all out of the city to prevent it, even. Sent them to...this. To Joker and Harley.
“You’re not getting away with this,” he said after what felt like ages of kneeling there on the floor, fighting for a brief hold on his own mind again. He glanced around the room for a second door, anything that might lead him somewhere else. If he could just...get back to the city...
JOKER: Joker watched, utterly rapt, as Superman pawed at nothing and--dear God, was he crying? These emotional types. He shook his head, but the words spoken only made him bark out a laugh. "Ha! Oh Supes... I already have gotten away with it. And I think you're aware of it, too. Now, are you going to choose in a timely fashion... or should I start a countdown?"
SUPERMAN: Clark set his jaw, refusing to let himself look at the ground again. Nothing there. Nothing there. But the feed on the screen had been real. His family needed him. The city needed him. “I’m not playing your game, Joker.”
And so he kept telling himself as he moved away from the podiums and the horrible visual of Harley with the people he cared about most. When he found no new door, he threw himself against the wall instead. Again, and again he did it until he felt the ache of it run all down his arms and legs. The Kryptonite had left him weak enough that he couldn’t do more than that. He slammed a fist against it, pointlessly, and clenched his eyes closed again. So many people depending on him. If he stalled...if he stalled, maybe someone would figure it out.
JOKER: "Oh that's a shame. No one likes a spoilsport, Supes. But I'm a man who does love a good twist." The screen split into two, one side showing the city where people looked fearfully to the billboard or incited panic through panic themselves. The other showed Superman's family. Between them, a counter began, starting generously from 100 and counting down.
He seemed a bit too cognitive for Joker's liking. He hadn't been able to test the doses, after all. Fortunately, he had planned for that too.
The door on the far end of the room opened for the space of about two seconds, hidden by Superman beating against the wall. A telltale hiss was the only precedent to another dose of the gas.
"Now that you're good and doped up yet again, Superman, I think we'll try this again," the Joker said, leaning forward. The suspense was killing him. "Either you make a choice for me, or that timer gets to zero and both the city and your beloved Superbrats go Ka-Boom. Even the sweet little baby."
SUPERMAN: Clark looked only briefly at the screen again, long enough to see his son's face and Eva's. He didn't need to look at Lois. He knew the expression she wore. Determined. Probably angry. There was nothing in the world she hated more than feeling helpless, was there? But she wouldn't be able to get them out of this. Joker wasn't the type to hesitate, and if Harley was far gone enough to put even Eva in that room with them, then she was no solace. They'd kept her daughter safe, even if it had been apart from her, and this was the response.
The number started to count down and the first few seconds ticked horribly by before the gas deployed a second time. It was so much worse than the first one. The effect of the Kryptonite was crippling, but that was nothing compared to where his mind went. As Joker spoke, it was like the words willed those things into reality. Clark could hear the explosions and the screams, the dust from fallen buildings that weren't really there was choking. He could hear people calling for him, just like the voice that he'd followed to the power plant. Superman, save us!
But even those desperate cries were nothing to what he saw when he looked at the side of the screen again where his family waited. It was an unspeakable thing, the vision that he had. His heart was beating so loudly in his ears that the sound of it eclipsed everything else, and several precious seconds ticked by as he stood paralyzed by the things that he was seeing that weren't really there. They weren't there, but they would be. They would be if he didn't do something.
JOKER: The longer Superman stalled, the more exciting it caught. "The fear gas makes it hard to think, doesn't it Supes?" he asked gleefully. "But you're strong, aren't you? You'll have to push through it." His Harley girl had. Helped him gauge the dose, too. If she could do it, Superman could do it.
"You're losing time, pal. One or the other. Or both, if you're willing to go for maximum carnage. Never took you for the type but there's surprises everywhere, aren't there?"
SUPERMAN: On the other side of the split screen, he could see people moving away. Running? Running, waiting to be saved...If he didn’t, how many people would die? Clark closed his eyes against the screen, the room, Joker’s disembodied voice, and all he was greeted with was the sound of screaming again. The air felt like it was burning around him, and something (no, someone) clutched at his ankle in a desperate, panicked way.
When he opened his eyes again it was to the red glare of the timer, down to a minute. Eva was crying on the other half of the screen, her tiny face scrunched up and afraid. He could feel bile rise in his throat with a sickening burn. If he let them die- No sooner had it entered his mind than he saw it again, as horrifying as before. Lois said his name before the explosives were triggered, and it rang in his ears. Harley clapped her hands next to them, shrieking with glee.
The room came back into focus again and he found himself clutching the sides of the screen.
JOKER: "Tick tock, tick tock," Joker cut in at Clark's little meltdown. "This is all very touching, Superman, but I don't think you realize how serious I am. How about a little demonstration?"
He had anticipated, after all, that this might happen. That the Man of Steel may be paralyzed by his own fear and what Scary liked to call the Trolley Problem. Joker had thought of that and now he had a way to sweeten the pot. Or sour it. It was all the same to the clown, who simply wanted a bit of fun. Well, Harley would get her fireworks. He had rigged some for this twist, should he need it. "Everybody loves a good plot twist," he said before hitting a button on the control panel which would signal his boys to hit an even larger button within Star City.
Said button was attached to a detonator and that detonator was rigged to a number of fireworks and charges that were connected right to Liberty Bridge. "Watch the birdie, Superman," he said with a laugh as he slammed another button to abruptly change the screen from Star City and Superman's family to the bridge, where hundreds if not thousands of people were currently trying to get out. Silly silly. Didn't they know that Fate had a funny--frankly hilarious way--of getting what she wanted?
"Boom."
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Mistletoe
This is my WonderBat Secret Santa gift for the person responsible for every WonderBat event we have. You're awesome @maidenoftheworld!
December 24. Washington D.C. 17:05
Christmas and the surrounding holidays was a time to be spent with family. Time for families to relax and enjoy the company of those they loved. For Bruce Wayne, the Christmas season had always been a difficult one. When his parents had passed when he was a boy, only Alfred was there to bring the young Wayne much comfort during this time, and although he had tried his hardest, whenever Bruce would feel festive, guilt would soon consume him.
Bruce had struggled for years with survivor's guilt, but he knew his parents would not have wanted him to isolate himself, especially during the holidays. When Dick had come into his life, Bruce had found a new purpose, giving relief and help to another who had lost their parents too young. For a moment it seemed as if he had gained some normalcy back into his life - however normal he could be while still parading as a vigilante every night. But when Dick had died unexpectedly, it had thrown Bruce back into the isolation he had fought so hard to claw out of. He had become angry at the world, and instead of resolving those feelings he buried deep within, he had focused that anger into The Batman.
Within a matter of years, The Batman had become someone to fear, willing to do what needed to be done in order to stop the threats. When one of those threats had become Superman, Bruce had nearly lost his mind and given into the one rule he had set for himself when he had started his war on crime in Gotham, enraged by the death of innocent people that had been sacrificed when the Man of Steel had surfaced on this world. That anger, however, soon became more guilt when Clark had died saving humanity from his world and the horrors of it. Bruce had, once again, been thrown into that spiral of guilt and anger, letting it consume his every thought, letting it spill into his work both at Wayne Enterprises and as The Batman. The only difference was now he had someone besides Alfred willing to pull him out of those thoughts, and she was much less inclined to allow him to say no.
For nearly a century, Diana had wallowed in her own grief. She had grieved the loss of her home, never being able to return to the island she had grown up on and loved dearly. She grieved the loss of Steve, the first man she had loved. And she had grieved the loss of her dear friends, who would age before her very eyes as she remained as youthful as the day she first arrived on Man's World. Diana had known loss, and by extent, had known grief and guilt- she was the one person who Bruce could find a true connection with, as she knew of both of his lives.
With Diana came the discover of Arthur, Barry, and Victor, and they had each brought something of their own to the mix. Soon had come Clark's rival, which had not only brought another teammate, but a friend into Bruce's life, someone he could share not only the playboy persona, but The Batman with. By extension had come Lois, the oh so determined journalist, and Mrs. Kent, Martha, the one who had connected Bruce and Clark and brought Bruce out of his fit of anger. She was the one who saved Clark that night. She was the one who had brought Bruce out of that rage.
It had taken some time, but slowly Bruce had begun to trust himself with his new teammates, his new friends. He would find himself spending more time with the group, wanting to share his life with them. They were his family. And family spent the holidays together and this was no different for the group of heroes.
"On your right."
Bruce turned just in time to see a blur of red zoom past him, the robot that had been inches in front of him seconds before, now a pile of metal on the frosted ground. "Thanks," Bruce muttered before he jumped behind a door, narrowly missing a few shots from another nearby robot, one of the many that were attacking the White House, knowing the President had opted to stay in Washington D.C. for Christmas. Someone had orchestrated this whole attack, and it was their job to stop the army of robots and find out who had gained inside knowledge and started the attack. It hadn't taken long for the team to be bombarded.
Bruce took a deep breath and reached into his utility belt, searching for another smoke pellet. The group had been fighting for nearly an hour and he was running low on supplies. His only hope was Victor would be able to stop the assault from the inside.
His fingers made contact with one of the pellets and he took another deep breath and threw the pellet to the floor, encasing the surrounding area in a thick cloud of dark smoke. The continuous fire aimed at the door Bruce had been hiding behind ceased momentarily, as the artificial army tried to find the caped crusader. They never saw the batarangs fly into their backs, before the miniature bombs went off, sending metal pieces flying about the room.
"Alfred," Bruce said, taking another deep breath. He wasn't as young as he was when he had first created The Batman, and whenever he fought alongside stronger, younger, people, he felt it. But he was never one to give up a fight.
"Yes, Master Wayne," Alfred called out.
"Do we know who's behind this?" Bruce asked. His eyes focused on Clark as he hovered above a few of the bots, letting his heat vision melt the metal that composed their bodies. He watched as Clark flashed him a smirk, before he ran off alongside Barry, punching robots who didn't see the two coming until they were disassembled on the ground.
"The signal is encrypted, Master Wayne," Alfred explained, "The location seems to jump every time I get close."
Bruce let out a frustrated sigh. Whoever was doing this was good and prepared. They knew the League would come. "Victor, have you found the President?"
Victor Stone, who had been tasked with finding the President and getting him to safety, turned another corner, his lips curling into a smile as he stared down the hall towards the bunker that laid under the Oval Office. He let his robotic eye scan the door, his smile widening when he was able to pick up the heat signatures behind the steel. "Yes," Victor replied. "Getting him now."
He quickly connected to the control panel outside of the door and began to decode the encryption. The door quickly opened and Victor stepped inside. "Mr. President," he began said with an outstretched hand. However, he stopped when he was bombarded with a barrage of gunfire coming from inside the bunker, as the President's secret service were unable to discern Victor from one of the many robots attacking the League. "I'm taking fire," was all Victor said, before he jumped out of the bunker and ran for cover.
"Probably shouldn't have let the robotic one go after the President, when robots are trying to attack," Barry said with a smirk as he stopped next to Bruce. He took one look at Bruce's scowl and knew he would be in for another lecture if he didn't stop making sarcastic comments. "Got it," he said, giving Bruce a thumbs up. "Going now."
Bruce turned and watched as Barry rushed off, leaving only a red streak behind him, before he let out another sigh. He refocused his attention to the area in front of him, his eyes widening when he noticed two robots uncomfortably close. He mentally cursed himself when he saw them raise their guns, as his hands fumbled to find something that would buy him extra time. The two robots fired their guns at Bruce, however when the only sound that was heard was the loud pings of their bullets hitting something strong and metal, Bruce knew he had gotten that extra time after all.
Bruce glanced up at Diana, who only raised an eyebrow as she stared into his eyes. She kept her shield raised, keeping the two of them safe from the hail of gunfire that was aimed at the two of them, as her free hand gently punched Bruce in the shoulder. "You're getting sloppy in your old age," she teased, flashing him a smirk.
She watched as he gave her a small smirk in response, before he pulled out his grappling gun. "And you're getting cocky," he retorted.
Diana only shrugged, before she thrusted her arm forward, crashing her shield into one of the unsuspecting robots, crushing its metal skull before it fell to the ground. "I learned from the best," was all she said as she reached for the sword that rested on her hip. "You're going to be late," she whispered, pulling her sword from its sheath, slashing at the robot that had jumped behind Bruce.
Bruce watched as the blade sliced the metal being in half, shrugged at her comment, and aimed his device at a beam across the room. "I'll be fine," was all he said, before he fired the gun, watching as it connected with the wood, before it flung him up towards the ceiling. He carefully disconnected the line, landing on his feet behind an unsuspecting robot, before he drove a piece of metal through its back. The robot quickly fell to the ground and Bruce retreated behind another beam for coverage.
"Barry?" Bruce asked, knowing the speedster should have retrieved the President by now.
"El Presidente is safe and sound," Barry responded, reappearing beside Bruce.
Bruce only gave a small nod and said, "Alfred, any luck on that encryption?"
"There's no need," Victor said, stopping the Englishman from speaking. "I found the control system, and it's unlike anything I've seen before."
"Victor, stop this army," Bruce commanded. He turned to Barry and nodded, knowing the younger man would be able to help Victor find a way to disable the robots before they overtook them all.
Without a word Barry ran off, searching every room in the White House until he found Victor staring at a giant control panel. "Woah," Barry said, his eyes widening as he realized the complexity of what was in front of him. Someone had thought of this for a while, someone smart. It would take a genius to bypass the encryptions on the control panel, and even then it would take hours, if not days.
"It's going to take some time," Victor said, plugging himself into the control panel. Instantly the control panel began to buzz and glow, and Victor began to shake. Whatever he had plugged himself into was trying to hack into his system.
Barry watched as Victor struggled with the control panel. He watched as Victor groaned in pain as electricity began to fly from the buttons and switches, before it coursed through his friend's circuitry. Without another word, fearing for the safety of his friend, Barry rushed up to the control panel and began to push every button, toggle every lever, flip every switch he could, hoping something would stop both the army if robots and the assault on Victor.
Meanwhile, back in the main foyer of the White House, Bruce, Clark, and Diana continued to fight the robots. "Any luck on stopping these things?" Clark asked, punching one of the robots through the chest. He quickly pulled the useless metal from his arm and tossed it aside, glancing over his shoulder at Bruce.
Bruce only shrugged. He didn't know what was taking Barry and Victor so long, but he hoped they would be able to stop it soon. He didn't know how much more he could take. The three of them were managing okay, but it would have been a lot easier if they had more bodies. Bruce made a mental note to pick up the search for more potential members when he got home. He also made a mental note to give Arthur a strongly worded message; even if Diana had to constantly remind him he was now a King and had other duties, he was still a member of the team.
Batman turned to deliver a punch to another robot, shock in his eyes when the robot punched him back. A piece of metal dragged along Bruce's cheek and cut his skin, leaving a small trail of blood. It was enough motivation for Bruce, as he grabbed the robot's arms, placed his foot on its chest, and pulled, dismembering the robot. "You're going to be late," Diana reminded, kicking a robot's head from its body, watching as it landed across the room, before she turned to face Bruce once more.
"It's fine, Diana," Bruce said once more, trying to reassure the woman that whatever he had planned for tonight took a backseat to this. But Diana knew how important keeping up appearances was to Bruce. It was the only way he was able to remain The Batman without anyone becoming suspicious.
Diana opened her mouth to speak, but when every remaining robot in the room began to shake, she knew Barry and Victor had done something right. She quickly rolled on top of Bruce, knowing the robots were going to explode and placed her shield on her back, covering the two of them from any debris that would come their way. Just as expected, the robots all began to self destruct, letting piece of metal fly about the room.
Bruce only laid on the floor listening to the ping each piece of metal made against Diana's shield, trying to avoid the playful smile she was giving him. He knew now wasn't the time to flirt, but she made it so hard. "I do like a woman on top," he whispered with a smirk, listening to another piece of metal fly their way, hitting the edge of the shield.
Diana only chuckled and playfully slapped his chin, telling him to cut it out. Clark, who had been standing next to the two, only turned his head and cleared his throat. The two looked up at Clark, watching as a shard of metal bounced off his forehead, before Diana let out another chuckle. The two had done the flirting and playful banter for so long, it was hardly a surprise anymore. Still, there was a time and place for it.
When the sounds of metal on Diana's shield ceased, she quickly rolled off of him and stood, before offering the man her hand. He took it quietly and she pulled him to his feet, just in time to see Barry run into the room holding Victor and the control panel. "Good work," Bruce said, glancing at the control panel. "How'd you stop it?"
Barry only shrugged. "I just pressed every button until something worked," Barry admitted, lifting his hands, confused.
Bruce tilted his head, unsure of Barry's method. Clark, however, was pleased. "Well it worked," he said, "Any idea who did this?"
Victor nodded. "He tried to hack my system," he confessed. "But he was too cocky and left a signature in the code. T.O. Morrow."
Bruce only nodded his head. "Once I get back to Gotham I will see what I can do about-"
"You will do no such thing," Diana interrupted. She glanced up at Bruce and crossed her arms over her chest. "Clark and I will deal with the clean up here. You have somewhere to be," she said, pointing a finger at his chest.
"Diana," Bruce began. He watched as Diana shook her head before she nodded to Barry.
"Sorry, Bats," Barry said, before he lifted him into his arms and sped off towards Gotham faster than any plane could.
Clark watched as Barry left with Bruce in his arm, chuckling before he turned toward the Amazon standing at his left. "What about the jet?" he asked, knowing Bruce had the only set of keys hidden in his utility belt.
Diana said nothing as she lifted the keys, a smile on her face as she thought of how handsy she had to get in order to get those. She quickly tossed the keys to Victor who gave her a smirk, before she began to clean up the mess the five of them had made.
December 24. Wayne Enterprises - Gotham. 19:35
Diana continued to walk through the crowd of employees and other members of Gotham's elite, walking toward two familiar faces. She tilted her head as she approached, making sure the bun atop her head remained perfect, as a few of her bangs swept down in front of her face.
"Well you look spectacular," Lois said, grabbing the few strands of loose hair and pushing them behind the taller woman's ear, "For being late, that is."
Diana smirked at the red headed woman. She turned and glanced at the dress Lois wore, a beautiful blue cocktail dress, with matching silver heels. Clark truly was a lucky man.
"Blame your husband," Diana whispered, nudging the man next to her. "He had to make sure every piece of metal was picked up before we left."
Clark only shrugged as he took a sip from the champagne glass in his hand, watching as both ladies turned to face him, before they chuckled. He watched as Lois hugged Diana and he was grateful that Bruce had once again, saved him and his family. After the Daily Planet had reported he had been killed in the attack on Gotham, he knew it would be nearly impossible to explain his sudden resurrection. But Bruce had done it. Clark hated having to lie to everyone, saying he had been labeled as a John Doe due to his face being so badly injured during the fight that no one knew who he was. He hated having to tell people he couldn't remember who he was for a year. He hated telling people his mother had buried someone else in a case of mistaken identity - Martha Kent and Lois were the only two to have seen Clark before deciding the keep the casket closed for everyone else. But now that he was married to the woman he loved more than anything, and able to see his mother happy and thriving on the farm, he knew it had been all worth it.
"So where is Mr. Wayne?" Lois asked, her journalist's instinct kicking in.
Diana scanned the room, shrugging when she couldn't find Bruce. She did, however, see another familiar face at the other end of the room, stuffing his face with finger sandwiches and hor d'oeuvres. "Excuse me," she said, walking towards the young man dressed in a red tux.
She quietly walked up to Barry, grabbing a champagne flute from the table and taking a sip. "You clean up nice," she said, plucking a cracker from one of the platters and taking a bite.
Barry glanced up at Diana and smiled, before he stuffed another sandwich in his mouth.
He pointed towards the green tie he wore, swallowed his food, and said, "It's festive." Diana only let out a small chuckle as she nodded. "It is very uncomfortable though."
Diana ate another cracker before she gently placed a hand on Barry's shoulder. "Did he make it?" she asked, letting her eyes wander around the room once more in an attempt to find the person who arranged this whole event.
Barry nodded. "Barely," he explained. "Although he was not too fond of either you or me
the whole way to Gotham.
Diana chuckled once more. "Thank you," she said, watching as he only nodded once before picking up another sandwich. She turned from the table, her eyes lighting up when she saw Bruce come into view.
He was dressed in one of his signature three piece tuxedos. His hair was styled, and the stubble on his face was nicely trimmed. There was still evidence of the cut on his face, but the blood was now cleaned; Diana assumed Alfred had tended to that before he left.
Bruce walked up to the front of the crowd, waving to various employees, offering smiles to those who had decided to share their Christmas Eve with him. "Good evening everyone," Bruce began, gaining the attention of everyone in the room. They all turned to watch Bruce as he evened out the black tie around his neck. "I want to thank everyone for coming. I'm happy to announce that Wayne Enterprises will be funding S.T.A.R. labs' bio-mechanical engineering department." There was applause from around the room, and Bruce smirked. It was his way of telling everyone he was funding Silas Stone and helping with Victor's ever changing mechanics, without outright saying it.
When the applause died down, he looked around the room, a smile on his face when he caught sight of Clark and Lois. "When my parents died, the holidays were a hard time. But as I've grown older, you have all become like family." Bruce's gaze moved throughout the room, watching as smiles appeared on faces at what he had just confessed. He moved his eyes, searching for one person in particular. When he found her, his smile widened as he locked eyes with hers. "To family," he said, raising his glass of champagne. "And Merry Christmas."
Everyone reciprocated the toast, raising their own glasses, echoing his words, before they moved on to their own side conversations. Bruce, content with his small speech, moved from the front of the room and disappeared into the crowd.
Diana, knowing Bruce would be headed towards Clark and Lois, joined the duo, reaching them at the same time Bruce did. Bruce only acknowledged her with a small smile, knowing whatever he had to say to her could wait until he was done with Clark. After all, he had been planning this secret for almost a year.
"That was some speech," Lois said with a chuckle, teasing him for his lack of words. Bruce was known for his ability to make up anything on the spot. He was charismatic, and people were drawn to every word he said.
"There were more important things I needed to get to," was all Bruce said, before he extended his hand, waiting for Clark to reach out and shake it. He did, causing Bruce to smile once more.
"You are still coming to the farm tomorrow, right?" Clark asked. He stared at Bruce but the question was directed to both he and Diana.
Diana only nodded, taking another small sip from her flute.
Likewise, Bruce nodded, reached into his jacket, and pulled out an envelope. "Merry
Christmas," Bruce said as he handed the envelope to Clark. He watched as the reporter carefully opened the envelope, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses, ever suspicious of the billionaire. "Sorry it took so long."
Clark looked up from the papers in his hands, trying his hardest not to cry. The farm had been in his family for generations and when his mother had lost it after his death, he couldn't imagine the pain that it caused. He was more than grateful when Bruce had bought the bank, letting Martha come back to the land she had fallen in love with, but this-this was beyond generous. "Bruce," Clark began, only to be silenced by the older man.
"The deed is in both your mother's name and yours. You should never have to worry about losing the farm again," Bruce explained. He placed his hand on Clark's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"Thank you, Bruce," Clark said quietly. "Truly."
Bruce only nodded before he turned to Diana. "Miss Prince," he said, offering the woman a hand. "Care to dance?"
Diana said nothing as she placed her hand in Bruce's and nodded. She waved to Clark and Lois, silently telling them she would see them tomorrow, before she followed Bruce out onto the dance floor. There Bruce turned to face her, stepping closer as his right hand fell to her lower back, pushing her against his chest. "Bruce," she warned, staring into his eye as she placed her right hand into his remaining hand.
"You look beautiful," he whispered, pulling her closer.
"Careful, Mr. Wayne," she whispered back, "I am spoken for."
Bruce craned his neck and raised an eyebrow. "Since when?" he asked, glancing over her shoulder at Clark and Lois who had begun to dance at the end of the room.
Diana ignored his question, lifting her left hand to gently caress the skin of his cheek just below the cut he had received earlier this evening. "You need to be more careful," she whispered, "You're not invincible."
"And you need to stop being so damn flirty when we're on a mission," he retorted. "Especially when you have a boyfriend."
"I never said it was a boyfriend," Diana said with a smirk.
Bruce raised an eyebrow once more. "Girlfriend?"
Diana let out a small chuckle. She enjoyed doing this to Bruce, but would deny it if asked. "What you did for Clark," she began as they started swaying to the music, "That was very kind of you, Bruce."
"He deserves it," he admitted. "Plus, I was a bit of an ass when we first met."
Diana chuckled once more. "Always the charmer, Bruce Wayne."
The two continued to dance, swaying gently to the music, enjoying small talk in between whispered flirtations. They discussed Arthur and his acclimation to the throne of Atlantis. They discussed Clark and Lois' wedding last September . They discussed who to seek out to join the team in case another threat emerged. They discussed Victor and his acceptance of what he was, and Barry's new job with the Central City Police Department. Neither had known just how much time had passed until Lois was nudging Bruce's shoulder, letting him know it was time to make the announcement of the century.
Carefully Bruce led the two of them to the end of the room where he could talk to Diana. He wanted to give her an out. He wanted her to know that whatever she decided tonight, he would support her. After all, she had tried to hide herself for nearly a century, never wanting the world's attention on herself. It was only after Steppenwolf had come to Earth had she let the world know who Wonder Woman was. He didn't know if she was ready for the string of attention this would cause her.
"I'm fine, Bruce," Diana whispered. She knew what he had been thinking. He had confided in her countless nights of this decision, and the more he talked about it, the more she agreed with him. It was time the world knew who the real Bruce Wayne was.
Without a word, Bruce nodded up towards the door frame they stood in. Diana followed his gaze, letting her eyes settle on the piece of mistletoe that Barry had attached to the door frame seconds prior. "You sneaky man," she whispered. She watched as he only shrugged before she shook her head playfully and leaned in for a kiss.
There were a few gasps from the surrounding guests, as they watched Bruce wrap his arms around the younger woman and deepen the kiss. A few of the reporters rushed to grab their phones, wanting photographic evidence that Bruce Wayne had a new fling, however none were as quick as Clark, who snatched the first and only photo of Bruce and Diana kissing.
Bruce pulled away from Diana and flashed her a smirk, before he grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it. Disappointed they had missed their photo opportunity, reporters quickly swarmed up to the duo, pens ready to jot down any details that would get them a story worthy of the front page. "Mr. Wayne," one reporter called out, "Who's your new lady friend?"
"Is Bruce Wayne dating again?"
"How long has this been going on?"
Bruce ignored everyone's questions, raising his empty hand to silence everyone. "I wanted this night to be about family, and I'd like you to meet mine," he said. He gave a small nod to Clark, letting him know their deal was still intact. Lois would get the first and only news story regarding he and Diana's relationship, as she was the only one they trusted. "This is Diana," he began, pulling Diana close to him. He wrapped his arm around the woman, smiling when he realized he didn't have to hide the truth anymore. Bruce Wayne was a taken man, and had been for a while.
"This is my wife."
A little different, but hey, they technically did end up. I tried to add some team interaction for you, and some playful flirtations for you as well. I hope you enjoyed it. This event wouldn't have been possible without your amazing self.
@fyeahwonderbat
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Superman III is an Anti-Capitalist Parable and Way Ahead of its Time
No seriously. Here’s the skinny.
Superman III came out in ‘83 and was directed by Richard Lester, who also directed the markedly inferior theatrical cut of Superman II three years earlier. Lester had a very different approach to the Superman series than his predecessor, Richard Donner: he insisted, ostensibly at the studio’s urging, on taking the series in a more camp comedy direction rather than the Old Hollywood epic movie tone Donner brought to the table. It makes sense, then, that audiences would push back against the goofier, lower-stakes tone of III. They were used to the (comparatively) operatic tone of the original Superman and, to a lesser extent, its sequel.
Superman III was a financial success, but it was negatively received by audiences and by critics, a negative reception that helped send the follow-ups Supergirl and Superman IV: A Quest for Peace to the bottom of the trash heap (not that they needed much help).
But, unlike those two installments, Superman III, when watched today with an unbiased eye, holds up much better than its reputation would suggest. The emphasized comedic undertones don’t stand out so much in this era of light, bantery Marvel films.
And, what’s more, Superman III is probably one of the most plainly anti-capitalist superhero movies of all time. Its maybe not “woke,” but its pretty damn close.
At the core of the film, and perhaps its most controversial element, is the comic relief character played by comedian Richard Pryor. Pryor’s character in Superman III may not be the most nuanced character of color in film, but he is also certainly not the Jar Jar Binks minstrel clown some make him out to be. What he is, is a naturally-gifted computer programmer so brilliant that he is able to hack into a government weather-controlling satellite while completely blitzed and effortlessly design a supercomputer so sophisticated it gains self-awareness. It is obvious the only reason that he lives on unemployment and can’t keep a job rather than being the next Bill Gates and giving the millionaire villain orders is the deep institutional racism upon which capitalism is founded.
The film is well aware of this racism, highlighting it in ways both big and small. Pryor is blackmailed into serving the rich white Trump-esque antagonist, played by Robert Vaughn, after being forced by his ridiculously small paycheck to commit embezzlement (the only victim of which being Vaughn himself, who is so dripping with surplus wealth that he has an artificial ski slope on the roof of his skyscraper). Their first interaction is full of condescending microaggressions on Vaughn’s part, such as cringe-inducingly calling Pryor “my man” in a manner that brings to mind the dad in Get Out.
When Pryor travels to Smallville, Kansas later in the film, he is visibly aghast at how eerily lily-white the whole place is, particularly staring in horror at a trio of porcelain-tinted mannequins in a store window. I’m sure his discomfort would be echoed by many black men taking their first step in rural southern America. Later, to infiltrate one of the businesses that he plans to hack in the small town, Pryor wears one of the awful suits worn by the aforementioned dummies and puts on an affected “white voice” to earn the trust of the drunken redneck that watches the place at night, a fitting commentary on how black men and women are expected to homogenize and “act white” to be above suspicion in white America.
And what happens when Pryor convinces Vaughn to give him the resources to construct his incredible supercomputer? Why, Vaughn and his sister appropriate it for themselves and put its unique capabilities to nefarious ends, shutting Pryor out of any control of his baby and leaving him out in the cold.
Pryor is much more than a victim through all of this, however. I already mentioned how he took the initiative to bolster his paltry computer programmer’s paycheck by using a clever scheme to embezzle from his greedy millionaire boss. He also doesn’t let said boss kick him around, either. Though his circumstances leave him with little choice but to be a cohort in Vaughn’s schemes, when push comes to shove, he stands up for himself. He refuses to allow Vaughn’s order for complete control of the oil tankers to be irreversible, he fights for his fair cut of the loot when Vaughn starts profiting off of his brilliance, and in the end he stands by Superman against his bourgeoisie bosses. He even saves Superman’s life on multiple occasions, using both his computer smarts and eventually a fire ax to come to the big guy’s rescue.
Given that Pryor has at least as much screen time as Supes throughout the picture, one is left wondering, who’s the real hero here? Why, its the guy running around in the frilly pink tablecloth, of course!
And Pryor’s not the only example of a downtrodden minority not being allowed to live to their full potential in a white supremacist patriarchal capitalist society. Perhaps the most interesting character in the film is the villain’s girlfriend, who is initially presented as a vapid, gold-digging bimbo until we learn that this is all an act on her part and she actually is a computer-wise, philosophy-reading secret genius herself. She only plays the part of the brainless trophy girl because life has left her few other options. It is a very fun subversion of the typical villain-moll dynamic, and it is a shame we don’t get more of this character, though she like Pryor is ultimately disturbed by Vaughn’s increasingly villainous actions and bails on him in the end.
But lets talk about Vaughn’s villain, and how he’s emblematic of the film’s ideas on rich white privilege as a whole. This is a guy who is so used to getting everything he wants that he sics a freaking hurricane on Colombia just because the country is competing with him in the coffee export industry. If that ain’t capitalism at its finest. He even repeats the tired adage “it is not enough that I succeed, others must fail,” misattributing it to Genghis Khan like an idiot. I mean seriously, who does this sound like?
This is the guy who gives us probably the most immortal line from the whole movie.
And that’s only the tip of the white entitlement iceberg. There’s also the running joke of the old white couple who win the Daily Planet’s vacation lottery and get sent off to Colombia, where we are treated to the wife saying things like, “look dear, a native wedding!” Cut to the most conventional looking church wedding ever. After this parody of cultural voyeurism, we have the couple later threatening to SUE Daily Planet Editor-in-Chief Perry White because A HURRICANE RUINED THEIR VACATION. What a couple of Karens.
The whole film is about the struggle between the working class and the rich. I’ll paraphrase one of the Smallville locals who, after seeing the chaos caused by the gasoline shortage brought about by Vaughn’s forced oil monopoly, says “I don’t know what’s going on, but I guarantee you, someone’s getting rich off of it. Someone’s always getting rich off of it.”
Oh yeah, and Superman is in this movie too a little. There’s a plot wherein Vaughn tries to synthesize an artificial kryptonite in an effort to kill Superman and prevent him from foiling his dastardly deeds. But, this being a kryptonite forged in the capitalist machine, its a lazy, half-assed copy that doesn’t even work right (leading to the above line).
That doesn’t mean that the kryptonite has no effect, though. Indeed, the symptoms of this knockoff kryptonite are fascinatingly similar to the effects of living under the crushing wheels of the capitalist regime.
We actually see Superman, through this physical manifestation of the exertion of capitalist oppression, deteriorate into a selfish, depressed, bitter shadow of his usual self. As this happens, the colors of his costume subtly grown more dark, drab, and dingy. Superman becomes concerned only with doing what is best for himself without regard to anyone else, giving up the whole “saving people” thing and even letting himself be coerced by the moll into ripping a giant hole into an oil tanker in exchange for a little nookie (the subsequent disturbing image of a massive oil spill creeping across the surface of the ocean is maybe the film showing its hand a little bit). Many socialist and anarchist thinkers have raised the thought that this exact selfish mindset is the natural effect of being socialized in a capitalist society.
Let’s be clear, this isn’t just “evil Superman”. This is Superman so crushed by self-loathing and the futility of his actions that at the lowest point in his decline we see him looking like this:
Indeed, this sad, alcoholic Superman very deliberately mirrors another character in the film: the aforementioned drunken yokel, who is also the former star quarterback of Clark Kent’s high school graduating class. This is a character who found, after graduating, that his celebrity status in school translated to nothing in the adult world, leaving him woefully unprepared for a real life where he is a functional nobody. Cue binge-drinking and pining for the glory days.
This all culminates in the movie’s most iconic scene, wherein Superman crash-lands in a junkyard and splits into two separate individuals: the above Superdick, and plain old Clark Kent. They then proceed to beat the shit out of each other.
Obviously, we aren’t meant to read this scene as literal; it isn’t actually, physically happening. It is a clever visualization of the internal struggle between the character’s two halves: Clark and Superman.
In fact, this very conflict is the heart of Superman’s story throughout the picture. This is examined in the form of Clark’s re-kindled relationship with childhood sweetheart Lana Lang. After the always tragic will-they-won’t-they of Superman and Lois, Clark and Lana’s romance is refreshingly positive and healthy. The obvious reason for this is that, unlike Lois, Lana isn’t just interested in the Superman persona. She loves Clark for Clark. He can be himself around her. Indeed, any romantic incursions between Superman in costume and Lana are portrayed as downright toxic, as in the unsettlingly realistic scene where Superman, first beginning to feel the effects of the faux kryptonite, makes several forceful, sexually aggressive advances on Lana in her own home. The obvious fear and discomfort on Lana’s face during this scene is incredibly telling. She isn’t interested in an inhumanly privileged, aggressive thug in spandex. She likes Clark Kent, the regular guy.
So it is no accident that in this climactic junkyard scene, Clark comes to represent the character’s “good side” and Superman the “bad”. Because this is not simply a struggle between Superman’s good and bad halves, it is a struggle between Clark Kent, the spectacularly unspectacular working man, and Superman, the ridiculously naturally privileged enforcer of statist status quo. Proletariat vs. bourgeoisie. And Clark Kent, the proletariat revolutionary fighting his way out of the bourgeois Superdick’s corruption, wins.
Not that Superman then becomes a perfect champion of the working class for the rest of the film. He does defeat Vaughnald Trump and blow up the evil computer, but he also remains something of a parody of typical movie “white savior” figures. This is mostly clearly shown in the denouement where Superman, obviously thinking he is providing some great act of charity, drops Richard Pryor’s character off at a dirty coal pit far from his home and recommends him for an entry-level computer job there. Pryor understandably decides he’d rather not slave in a coal mine in the middle of nowhere for the rest of his life, and chooses instead to walk the nine miles to the nearest bus station. There is also the final scene where Superman (who in evil mode had straightened the Leaning Tower of Pisa earlier in the film in an extreme act of pettiness) returns to Italy and “fixes” the tower, smiling and waving in smug self-satisfaction at the locals below, oblivious to the poor souvenir salesman who has just finished making his setting up his new display of now-straight replica towers.
tl;dr, I think that Superman III deserves reevaluation not as the moment where the Superman franchise began its descent into crappery, but instead as a flawed but biting satire on privilege and capitalist corruption in America.
That’s my two cents.
#superman#superman 3#richard donner#richard lester#christoper reeve#capitalism#blm#fuck capitalism#Donald Trump#richard pryor#movie review#blog post#white privilege#socialism#anarchy#my two cents#tldr
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Summary: Doctor Emma Swan, a psychology professor at the University of Miami, is looking for her Superman. Doctor Killian Jones, a sociology professor, on sabbatical from Cambridge University, is looking for his Buttercup. What happens when well-meaning friends and family gift them memberships to an online dating site?
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Special thanks to @duathadun @hellomommanerd @idontdothatveryoften and @natascha-remi-ronin for their magical help!
Can be found on FF and AO3
Magical Match
Words ~15,200
February 2018
Emma watched the clock tick down the last few minutes which would signal the end of the first test of the semester for her Psych 101 class. Then eighty students would put down their pens and eighty pairs of eyes would meet hers, some resigned, some elated, most unsure. Once scores had been posted, her office would be inundated with students with questions about their grades, and by the next class her roster would have dropped by several. Such was the life of a professor at a university where admission wasn't easy and where their grades from high school were often among the highest in their class.
"Time," she called. "Please turn your papers over and pass them to your left." Emma moved down the aisle collecting the exams, and as the pile grew heavy, wondered whose idea it was to give an essay exam. Yours, numbnut, she scolded herself. "Your reading for the next class is on your syllabus," she told them in closing. "I'll see you Tuesday."
One or two students waved, a few others smiled and as they filed out she couldn't help but make a few guesses as to which ones would drop. But, she sighed, her job wasn't to worry about each individual student who dropped, it was to make sure that those who stayed got what they paid for...or what their parents paid for, anyway. "Cynical much?" she muttered, cramming the papers into her bag before shutting off the lights and hurrying out the door.
Emma took the stairs to her office on the fourth floor and with an hour left before she needed to leave to meet Mary Margaret, sat down to grade the exams. She made it through three of them before her attention wandered to her laptop and the possibility that a new message might have arrived from Clark, as she hadn't heard from him in a few days. Had he returned from his business trip? Or maybe she should be asking herself was when had she started to care?
December 2017
Since moving to Miami, Emma, as well as many of her colleagues, spent the holidays at the home of their boss, David Nolan. As the Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences, he worked hard to make sure that no one was alone over the holidays, and as Emma was best friends with his wife, Mary Margaret, she found she didn't mind. However, as the years went on and the number of single faculty decreased, it seemed that everyone had someone they wanted her to meet. The problem was, how could they know exactly what Emma needed when Emma didn't even know?
Mary Margaret said she needed her very own Prince Charming, which was how she described David. Emma wasn't so sure. She liked David...a lot...and he was a great boss, but to be married to someone like that, she just wasn't sure.
Belle told her she needed a bad boy, like the man she had married. But, once again, while she could definitely say there were some aspects of the bad boy that had attracted her in the past...she didn't think she could marry him.
Her past romances had taught her what she didn't want, but what did appeal to her? Someone who challenged her…yet cared about her opinion. Someone who was caring, witty and not afraid to say he was sorry. Someone who would sweep her off her feet when she needed him yet allowed her to walk alone. A man who, like a pirate in the night, would sneak up and steal her heart so effortlessly that she would never want to let him go. Who was he? Where was he? Was he someone she had yet to meet?
The group this year had been smaller and while it had been an enjoyable day, Emma was ready to go home and curl up with her six-month-old kitten, Ginger. She said her goodbyes and was just opening her car door when Mary Margaret came running down the walk. "Emma, hold on," she huffed, "you forgot your gift."
Emma took the green envelope and frowned a little. "You gave me my gift the other day. What's this?"
"Well," Mary Margaret began, but her body language and the way she seemed to struggle for the right words served to put Emma on guard. "David and I just want you to be as happy as we are so we kind of..."
Her hesitation had the hairs on the back of Emma's neck standing straight up and convinced her that she was most likely not going to like it. "What did you do?" she asked hesitantly.
Mary Margaret took a deep breath. "Just read the letter and remember...we love you." Then she quickly hugged her and with a little wave disappeared back inside.
With a shake of her head, Emma tossed the envelope onto the passenger seat and drove home. Once inside, her curiosity got the better of her and she ripped the envelope open and pulled out several sheets of paper. The letter was from a dating site she had heard about from some of her friends called Magical Matches, whose slogan was “Your True Love is only a keystroke away.” With a roll of her eyes at the matchmaking persistence of her friends, she tossed the letter on her desk deciding she would deal with it later.
For a week Emma moved the letter from one place on her desk to another, but never had the desire to read what it had to say. And since Mary Margaret and David had left on a cruise, she didn't have to explain herself either. Which left the door open for her to turn down several invitations for New Year's Eve and welcome in 2018 her way...movies, champagne and her favorite dessert.
The day had been perfect. She lounged in bed until Ginger insisted it was time to eat, and then after a run to her favorite bakery she had settled in with a cup of hot chocolate and an excessively large bearclaw. She made it through The Sound of Music before taking a small break to entertain Ginger and then dove back into The Promise.
A grilled cheese and a bottle of water carried her through An Officer and a Gentleman and The Lake House. And then she pulled out dessert and cut a piece of her hazelnut cheesecake with chocolate drizzle that she had picked up earlier and popped the cork on the champagne. With those in hand, Emma sank down onto the sofa and sang along with the songs that were in the movie Pretty Woman.
Halfway through the bottle of champagne, she decided to watch Ghost, and as the last drop of bubbly was poured into her glass, her tears started to fall. Why was she alone on New Year's Eve? If there was a man just for her, where was he?
As one year gave way to the next, Emma pressed play on the movie that seemed to have the man of her dreams. He was a dichotomy in that one side was shy, awkward and unsure while his alter ego was cocky, confident and caring. And while he had been portrayed many times by many actors, none quite pulled off both side as well as Christopher Reeve.
As she watched Clark Kent's shy puppy behavior around Lois Lane, Emma found herself with such a goofy smile on her face that she had to look away. Unfamiliar feelings were coming to the surface, but before she gave them too much thought, her attention was diverted when Ginger jumped up on her desk and started batting everything onto the floor. "Feeling left out?" she crooned, picking up the kitten and cleaning up the mess she'd made, which included a pile of papers.
Stacking the papers neatly proved to be more difficult than it should have been, as little paws were busy swatting at everything that moved. Emma tossed one of Ginger's toys, thinking she would run after it and had just straightened the pile when, with one jump, the kitten landed in the middle and everything scattered everywhere again. "Ginger!"
"Mew," Ginger responded, looking up at her with such an innocent expression that Emma couldn't help but pick her up and hug her.
"What am I going to do with you?" Emma murmured softly, her eyes landing on the letter from Magical Matches. Unsure what caused her to open it, Emma picked up the letter and sank down onto her desk chair to read.
Dear LostGirl,
Your Magical Match is CapnJolly. Whether you contact him or not is up to you, but if you choose to do so, please follow the instructions on the included page.
Best of Luck,
Ruby Lucas
President
Magical Matches
Emma stared at the words on the page for so long that Ginger batted at her arm for attention. Should she or should she not?
Her gaze was drawn back to the television screen that was showing Superman turning back time to save Lois Lane, and she made her decision. She wanted to find that someone who would jump with her. Before she could change her mind, Emma read the directions for signing into the server and composed her email:
Dear CapnJolly,
My friends gave me this as a Christmas gift and while I am skeptical about it really working, I decided why not.
I'm looking for someone, not to follow, but to walk by my side. Someone who can see through walls that aren't impenetrable and leap the ones that are. Someone whose weakness is really his strength and who loves me for what I am and not for what he wants me to be.
I've not found him yet and really don't have high hopes that I ever will, but I promised my friends I would give it a try and that...that is important.
Your Magical Match,
LostGirl
A quick proof was all she allowed herself before she hit send because she knew that if she thought too long about it, she would end up deleting it. This way, it was done.
Early February 2018
He had written back the next day and somehow through the various computer conversations, she had grown to look forward to hearing from him. They had discussed everything from their favorite books to their favorite movies and had even spent several exchanges talking about pasta. He knew she wasn't a morning person, ate Pop-Tarts for breakfast and enjoyed walks on the beach.
But...he didn't know who her best friend was, that she was a professor at a university in Miami or her real name. There were some parts of herself she needed to keep close...for privacy, she tried to tell herself, but really for protection, for as long as the wall was up...she was safe. Or was she?
Her phone was in her hand before she realized it, her thumb hovered over the app to open it, but since there was no notification, Emma set the phone aside and finished grading the test she had started before getting lost in memories. Once she was done, she dropped her pen, locked her office, and had taken less than ten steps when she heard her name being called from behind and, knowing who it was, fought to keep from ducking into the women's room just ahead. But since it was her boss...and her best friend's husband, she plastered a smile on her face and slowly turned around. "David, what committee are you trying to fill now?" she asked him with resignation.
"No committees, Emma," David smiled, "I just want you to meet the man who will be taking over Belle's classes while she's out with the new baby."
"Oh?" Emma's brow went up as she sized up the man standing next to David. "I thought you were going to spread her classes around."
"Well," David put his hand on the man's shoulder, "I didn't know that the brother of one of my dearest friends would be available so...let me introduce Killian Jones."
"Emma Swan." She shook his hand while trying to remember where she had seen him, and while making small talk, surreptitiously studied him. Not quite as tall as David, dark hair he wore longish, but gelled back except for a few strands that fell over a high forehead, square jaw that was clean shaven, smallish ears tight to his head and blue eyes rimmed by dark lashes that were covered with a pair of oversized dark glasses.
He wore dark pants, white shirt with a muted tie, covered by a tweed jacket, and in his hand he was holding a fedora...just like Clark Kent come to life. "No, Killian...Killian Jones," he repeated, and she realized she must have voiced her thoughts aloud.
"I'm sorry," Emma hastened to add, "I've got to run. I have a lunch meeting." And before she could embarrass herself or David any further, walked away. Rude, perhaps...but for some reason being in the company of Killian Jones gave her a strange feeling.
She looked back as she started down the stairs and both were still standing there with their mouths hanging open. She shrugged, "It's your wife, David. You know how grumpy she gets if someone is late."
As she walked across campus to the Shalala Student Center, Emma thought about how David had smiled and waved her off as he was used to her behavior, but Killian Jones had looked almost relieved. "That's odd," she muttered, spotting Mary Margaret across the room seated next to a window.
"What's wrong?" her friend asked before Emma was even situated in the chair.
Emma frowned. "David just introduced me to the person taking Belle's classes and I know him...but from where, I'm not sure...yet." Then it hit her and after an excited inhalation, she continued, "Remember that conference I went to last fall and I---"
"Complained about one of the speakers for weeks?" Mary Margaret finished her sentence.
"Yes," Emma shook her head, "it's him. His ideas were really..." Simplistic, archaic...annoying, she thought. "But I don't want to talk about him. Let me fill you in on Clark."
~~~CS~~~
When Emma left, Killian slowly let go of the breath he was holding, as he hadn't been interested in a confrontation with a colleague so soon after joining the team.
"Sorry about that," David interrupted his thoughts to make excuses for the Swan girl. "Emma can be prickly, but she's a fine instructor and has co-published with another professor in the area of psychophysiology.”
Killian didn't say anything, just nodded his head in a 'that's alright' motion, as he much preferred observing to confrontation anyway. Besides, it seemed that Emma apparently had a very comfortable working relationship with his soon to be boss and he didn't want to get off on the wrong foot. And that was on a professional front...on the personal front, he would hate to create any issues, as Liam would kill him.
He followed David as he was shown around the college, but once they left the Flipse Building behind and started walking across the campus, Killian could finally relax. The warm temperatures and soft breeze were a welcome change from the snowy cold of Wisconsin and the damp cold of London. So much so, in fact, that he found himself second-guessing his wool tweed jacket and fedora.
"Here we are," David indicated the modern building in front of him, "our 46-million-dollar student center."
"That's a lot of money." Killian looked on in amazement at the chrome and glass structure surrounded by lush, tropical landscape.
"Donors with deep pockets," David intoned, leading him around the building. "These gliders okay?" he asked, pointing to a patio dotted with wooden seating areas.
Killian looked out over the sparkling lake surrounded by green grass and nodded, "It's fine, mate."
David led them to a wooden table, flanked by benches and covered with a wooden umbrella, and slid onto one side. Killian followed suit, sliding onto the one across and when it surprised him by moving, he unceremoniously fell, almost slipping off the seat, knocking his glasses askew.
"You okay?" David asked quietly.
Killian blushed and straightened his glasses while hastily looking around to see if anyone had noticed. "Fine, fine. I just...ugh...slipped." He ran his finger from one side to the other under his collar, thinking that he was feeling a tad warm.
"You're not too hot, are you?" David asked just as the wind whipped around them.
The breeze served to cool him down a little, but even with the pomade in his hair, it was strong enough to blow an unruly lock over his forehead. "I might have to rethink my jackets while I'm down here."
David grinned as their orders were set in front of them. "Ditch the jacket. We're a pretty loose group. One of our faculty comes to work in board shorts and flip flops." He shrugged, "As long as you're decent and do the job."
Killian couldn't quite see coming to work in shorts but thought perhaps a lighter wardrobe might be in order.
With the gentle movement of the seats and the steady hum of the fountain, he found that his attention kept drifting to an email he needed to write. He wanted to share this new opportunity but worried it would be crossing some unspoken line that she had arbitrarily set up between them. "I could get used to this," he found himself uttering.
David laughed. "Well...we do have a faculty member retiring in May, so..." he left it hanging in the air.
Could he live in a place of perpetual sunshine, across the pond from his brother and family and friends? "I'll keep that in mind," he finally managed, but decided it was definitely something to think about.
While they ate, Killian was content to allow David to carry the conversation. He parceled out information on the school, places he thought Killian should visit, restaurants he frequented and tidbits about his wife, Mary Margaret before segueing into escapades he and Liam had been involved in when they had met at University.
Killian had just popped a salty chip into his mouth when he heard, "David, I didn't expect you to be here," and a dark-headed woman leaned over and kissed his dining companion, answering his question about her identity.
His eyes were drawn to those of the woman standing next to the dean's wife and the iciness of her green stare answered his question as to whether or not her antagonism had been his imagination. Her eyes skittered away first, moving to the vicinity of his chest and feeling his face flame, his gaze moved out to the lake.
Killian listened to David speak to his wife, finding that he envied the easiness with which they spoke. When he was introduced, his habits of old kicked in and after a brief hello, he sat back and answered only when spoken to, feeling as if the words were lodged in his head, but unable to be spoken. Only when he was communicating with...
"David, Doctor Jones," Emma interrupted his thought and tipped her head in farewell as she moved to follow her friend.
"Whoa," David's brows rose, "what did you do to upset Emma?"
Killian didn't really feel the need to explain the whole misunderstanding over the paper he presented and just shook his head. "Professional differences, I suppose. You know how psychologists' philosophies often differ from those of sociologists," he finally settled on.
David studied him for an extra second. "That I do. I need to head back now, is there anything else I can help with?"
"Point me toward the Metrorail?"
~~~CS~~~
Emma was expecting Mary Margaret to say something about her treatment of Jones, and so when they had walked around the lake and her friend hadn't said anything, she couldn't stand it any longer. "I know I was rude, but he..."
"Gets under your skin. I know." Mary Margaret sent her a quick grin. "But he's cute."
A snort burst forth before Emma could contain it. "Kind of like a puppy dog. Did you see the chip crumbs on his tie?"
"He just needs a good woman to help bring him out of his shell." Her friend laughed.
"Maybe," Emma agreed, "but that's not me. After all, I've got..."
"Clark, I know," Mary Margaret said with a sigh and a roll of her eyes.
Once back in her office Emma continued with her grading, not stopping until she was finished. She had just completed adding all the grades to the computer gradebook when her phone buzzed. A glance at the notification sent a little thrill through her system. "Clark," she giggled excitedly as she swiped the app to read the message.
~~~CS~~~
Killian had rented an apartment overlooking Biscayne Bay, steps away from Bayside Marketplace and an easy commute by train to the University. He had chosen the place not only for the scenery, but because it offered a large balcony, which he had been drawn to the minute he had walked in the door. Large glass windows lined the back wall revealing the blue water of the Bay for as far as the eye could see. And as a sailor, even if it was just for recreational purposes, the blue, blue sea calmed him and soothed his soul.
Since he had been in residence, he had discovered a pattern in his behavior when he returned to the apartment. Upon entering, with a flick of his wrist his hat would land on the table, his jacket and tie would be flung over the sofa, and as he unbuttoned a few buttons of his shirt with one hand the other grabbed his laptop as he gravitated to the balcony. Symbiotic...or at least it seemed that way to him, for it needed him to enjoy its beauty as much he needed its ability to soothe him.
"And today's no different." Killian stretched his legs in front of him and watched the water below, noting the coming and going of the tour boats. He had thought about taking one of the cruises but felt more of a need to be the one in control, which was unlike him. Different from any time in his life he could remember, making him question what had caused the change. Or better yet...who?
January 2018
The new year was only a few hours old, and while Killian had enjoyed spending the evening with his niece, Piper, he couldn't help but wonder when he would find his own Buttercup. That wasn't something he often thought about because, generally, he was happy with his life. He taught classes, did research, wrote and spent time with his family. But there had been something different about this year's New Year's Eve. He had watched The Princess Bride with his niece and found himself feeling...lonely...bereft even...as if something...or someone...was missing.
It wasn’t long before he found himself sitting down at the piano, his fingers running over the keys, almost subconsciously picking out the notes to the theme song from the movie he had been watching. But that didn’t seem to help the restless feeling he had and eventually pushed up from the piano, eventually settling in a chair losing himself in thought.
"Killian?" He looked up as Elsa came into the room. "Any trouble tonight?"
He sent her a small smile. "Not at all. Why would you say that?"
"No reason," she shrugged a shoulder, "you just appeared...I don't know...lonely, I guess."
He surprised himself by answering quietly, "I was just wondering about my Buttercup."
"Oh?" Liam's voice joined the conversation, "Something to share, Little Brother?"
Killian shook his head, almost wishing he hadn't said anything. "Just a comment after watching your daughter's favorite movie, that's all."
Killian watched Liam and Elsa exchange a look that said a lot, but what exactly he wasn't privy to, and then Liam disappeared in the direction of his study only to reappear with a red envelope in his hand. "Take a chance, Killian." He handed the envelope over before holding his hand out to Elsa.
Elsa leaned over, kissing Killian on the cheek and then wrapped her arm around Liam as he came to his feet, "Love is worth it. Night, Killian." They moved down the hall toward their room and Killian was left alone with his thoughts.
It had taken him a few days before his curiosity led him to open the envelope, and by the time he had, the letter from his magical match had been waiting for over a day.
Dear CapnJolly,
My friends gave me this as a Christmas gift and while I am skeptical about it really working, I decided why not.
I'm looking for someone, not to follow, but to walk by my side. Someone who can see through walls that aren't impenetrable and leap the ones that are. Someone whose weakness is really his strength and who loves me for what I am and not for what he wants me to be.
I've not found him yet and really don't have high hopes that I ever will, but I promised my friends I would give it a try and that...that is important.
Your Magical Match,
LostGirl
"She's looking for a bloody Superman," Killian mumbled, pushing away from his desk to pace in front of it. "How's a normal bloke expected to live up to that?" He stopped pacing long enough to stare in the mirror at his image. "You're certainly no Superman," he told the man looking back at him. "But, maybe you could be his alter-ego, Clark Kent. With that in mind, he sat back down to try to put together a response that didn't make him sound like an arse.
Dear LostGirl,
I, too, am skeptical of this process working but was reminded recently that skepticism is often the first step to a great discovery. And since one can only truly fail if they don't try, I would like to see if I'm up to the task of breaking down a few of your walls, much like the man of steel.
I am looking for someone who is loyal and willing to fight for what she wants. Someone who isn't interested in trying to change me, but who accepts me for the man I am. Someone who loves me enough that even after years together, it is always as exciting as the first time. Someone who challenges my mind and allows me to challenge hers.
Are you willing to roll down the mountain with me?
Your Magical Match,
CapnJolly
~~~CS~~~
February 2018
Killian admitted that he had sent that first email mainly out of curiosity, but it hadn't taken many exchanges before one day he had signed his message as Superman's alter-ego, Clark. It hadn't been planned, but had just happened, and she had understood...and with her signature, she become his Buttercup. And now, four weeks after their initial emails...she mattered, and that was cause for concern. The anonymity made it simple, as he didn't have to worry about saying the wrong thing because each and every word he wrote had been thought out. The awkwardness that he felt around women that caused him to inevitably do or say something foolish wasn't a problem because the more he corresponded with his Buttercup, the easier it became. The ease hadn't transferred to other women though, as today with Emma Swan, he had been tongue-tied and felt like a gauche teen. Not a promising start to the next few months.
The revving of a boat motor served to pull his attention back to the task at hand, that of composing a new message for his magical match. He had some things he wanted to share with her, but while he had been open about his likes and dislikes, he was still holding his identity, his family and his location close. Why, he couldn't say, but something told him that his Buttercup wasn't quite ready for taking that next step. He still needed to scale a wall or two.
Opening his computer, he started typing, but for every word that he wrote, he deleted two. It took him the better part of an hour to get the right tone, to get the right words, but once he had written everything out, he hit send. No second thoughts. Once sent, his heart fluttering in his chest and his nerves skittering along his skin, he couldn't stay inside any longer. A quick change into running shorts and Killian headed to the beach to run.
~~~CS~~~
The message from Clark wasn't long, but many of their messages weren't. They had fallen into the habit of asking each other a simple question, or of relaying information. It was a way to share pieces of themselves without going too far out on the limb. Or, in her role of Buttercup, a way to take a few steps down the hill, or if necessary a few steps back up the hill. Safe...but still satisfying...and exciting. This time was different though, as he had shared more about his location and even asked for her help.
Dear Buttercup,
I'm sorry I've not been in touch for a few days, but I've recently sailed into a new harbor. For the next few months, I'll be sailing where the sun shines and the water is warm. The only problem is that I find myself at odds with one of my shipmates and I am vexed as to how to repair the rift. Would you have any words of wisdom for this weary sailor?
Yours,
Clark
She read the message through once...and then read it through once more, but this time very slowly. She kept thinking that taken at face value, his words meant one thing, but that maybe there was a hidden message too. However, after several minutes of coming up with no answer, she decided to answer him once she had returned home. Ginger had been alone too long and if she were bored, who knew what she would get into.
Emma lived in a small neighborhood in the town of Coconut Grove, located not far from the University. It was a small community located within the city of Miami but was easily accessed via the Metrorail and close to the shops at Bayside Marketplace and the night life and beaches of South Beach. Most days she took the train but knowing that she would be staying late grading papers she had driven. Now as she dealt with the rush hour traffic along the US-1, she had second and third thoughts, finally driving into her driveway an hour after leaving her office.
With a slight hesitancy as to the mess she might be walking into, Emma unlocked and slowly pushed open the door. She took a step into the foyer and when the floor was clear let out the breath that she was holding. Shutting the door behind her, she dropped her briefcase onto a side table and turned around to hang up her jacket when, out of the corner of her eye, an orange flash ran around a corner.
"Ginger?" The kitten was gone but trailing across the floor was a strand of cream colored yarn that matched the afghan that Mary Margaret had given her for Christmas. "No, no, no," she repeated rapidly running to the T.V. room to find it spread across the floor. "Ginger," she groaned picking it up, finding where the mischievous kitten had found a loose strand and had taken off. Holding it tightly in one hand to keep the blanket from further unraveling, she followed the trail that led down the hall and around a corner into her bedroom where the kitten had gotten sidetracked by her hair ribbons, now spread around the room.
Emma quickly picked up the ribbons, tossed them on the dresser and went looking for the kitten. She wasn't in the kitchen but she had been, as her box of toys had been upended and its contents were spread across the floor. Ginger wasn't in the study either, however there was evidence of her as she had knocked her pens off the desk, which left the bathrooms. Emma could hear the kitten before ever entering the room and, as expected, found her destroying a roll of toilet paper.
"Ginger!" Emma picked up the kitten and tucked her under one arm and then picked up the mess. "What am I going to do with you?" she asked her friend carrying her into the kitchen and setting her on the floor while she got out the kitten food. Once Ginger had her nose in the kitten food, Emma set her sights on her own meal, finally settling on a slice of cold pizza and dropping down in front of her computer.
Clark's question about advice to help sort out a disagreement between co-workers reminded her of her feelings regarding Killian Jones. Having sat in on a portion of a presentation he had given, she had left early after hearing him say that growing up in the foster system was what caused social deviance. What would she need to change her mind? Was there anything? Maybe there was, she thought as she sat down to type out her message.
~~~CS~~~
Killian spent the next several days thinking about what Buttercup had suggested while he went about his professorial duties. Preparing lectures and PowerPoint presentations to match the students’ needs ended up taking extra time, but once that was complete, he went back and reread the last message.
Dear Clark,
Rifts are often caused by a misunderstanding. Perhaps if you can figure out where the misunderstanding occurred, you can clear that up.
Good luck,
Your Buttercup
He knew exactly what had caused the rift between him and Emma Swan as it had to do with a paper he had presented on social deviance. All he had to do was figure out why she'd had such a visceral response to his presentation...and correct it. Simple, right?
"Killian?" He turned to greet David, who happened to be standing next to a man wearing board shorts and flip-flops.
"David, how are things?"
Pleasantries exchanged, David introduced his companion, "I'd like you to meet August Booth. August, Killian is covering for Belle."
After a few conversational exchanges, David excused himself and Killian and August began walking back to their offices. Along the way, August shared a few more pieces of information about his specialty as well as filling him in on a few idiosyncrasies of the other faculty members. "Had any run-ins with anyone yet?"
"Not really, no." Killian tugged on his right ear, and straightened his glasses, habits he was aware of resorting to when he felt uncomfortable.
"That look is telling me there's more in what you're not saying. Come on, spill," August encouraged.
Killian didn't respond right away but waited until they were in his office. He leaned back against his desk and looked over the man standing in front of him, deciding perhaps he could fit another piece to the puzzle. "Nothing, really...just...Emma Swan took offense with a paper I presented last fall, but I'm unsure as to why." He picked up a copy of the paper, handing it to August.
"Creating Social Deviants in the Foster System; A Case Study," August read aloud. "This was the paper?"
"Aye," Killian answered. "What about it?"
"It's not really my story to tell," August prefaced before continuing, "but Emma was raised in the foster system and so this--"
"--is a touchy subject." Killian finished his sentence. "I get it now. Thanks, mate."
"Anytime." August handed back the pape. "I’ve got to run, but if you ever want to go wakeboarding or windsurfing, let me know."
Once he was gone, Killian dropped down onto his desk chair and tried to figure out his next step. He had inadvertently upset a colleague by making her think that he was maligning an entire subset of individuals who were near and dear to her heart. He wanted to make it right, for her vexation with him left him feeling unsettled, for more than what could be taken at face value. He wanted Dr. Swan to read his entire paper. Perhaps then the confusion could be cleared up, their working relationship would be amicable, and the unsettled feeling he had would disappear. Question was, how to get it to her. Mailbox...leave it on her desk...slide it under her door? All possibilities, except the likelihood of her tossing it in the garbage without reading were 70/30. What then could he do?
He was on his way to place it in her mailbox when he was presented with an unexpected opportunity. Killian reached to open the door to the department office and without looking barreled inside running headfirst into Emma Swan, who was carrying a box full of papers. "What the hell!" he heard as the box was dropped, landing on the toe of his wingtips.
"Ouch!" Killian yelped, also dropping the article and exam he'd been carrying before realizing that Emma was just staring at the papers that were slowly sliding out of the box at his feet. Old habits kicked in. "Uh, sorry Doctor Swan." He bent over and began haphazardly shoving the papers back inside the box. "I didn't look where I was going. I was," he looked around locating his exam and held it aloft, "going to make copies of this test and I..." The last piece was shoved inside and, standing, he pushed the box toward Emma, unaware that he had taken a step forward.
"Uh," Emma let out a gasp as the box hit her in the chest and only the fact that Killian was still holding on to it kept it from once again landing on the floor.
"Sorry about that." He gave her a sheepish grin, relaxing his stance a bit, thinking she looked a bit shell-shocked for lack of a better word. "Are you alright?"
She shook her head as if trying to clear her thoughts and took the box out of his hands. "I'm fine," she answered his question solicitously, before her voice took on its usual clipped tone. "Thank you." She brushed past him, leaving him standing there alone.
Killian righted his glasses and tried to remember why he was standing in the doorway to the department office. As if in a trance he looked down at the papers he was holding and snapped his fingers, "Ahh, yes. Copies." He left his order for his exam to be copied but it wasn't until he was back in his office that he remembered the article and wondered where it had ended up.
~~~CS~~~
Her lecture over, Emma handed a pile of the Developmental Psychology article to each of the rows and once everyone had a copy, moved back to the podium. "Read these over for next class, please, and we'll discuss them then," she instructed before turning her attention to shutting down her PowerPoint.
"Doctor Swan," Emma's attention was pulled to one of her students, Henry Mills, a gangly, dark-headed boy, who laid a small stack of papers on the podium. "I think I accidentally picked up a copy of the wrong article."
Emma handed him the correct one before looking down at the one he had originally been given and, seeing the title, felt her brows raise in question. How had a copy of the Jones' article ended up with hers?
But then the scene from earlier in the day replayed in her mind of when he had run into her, knocking the box from her hands. She had stood there like an idiot while he had shoved all the papers back into the box, handing them to her. Just as awkward as always she wanted to say but then...he had asked if she was alright and there was something in his voice that was different. The way his British accent curled around the syllables and the huskiness of his tone sent...dare she say...a shiver up her spine? She had to have been mistaken, she ultimately decided, before shutting off her computer and packing up.
Once back in her office, Emma set the article in front of her, trying to decide what she should do. Throw it in the trash and pretend like she never saw it, put it in his faculty mailbox, or take it to his office and give it to him? With a shake of her head, she suddenly remembered how angry she had been when she had heard the beginning of his presentation last fall, and without thinking, she picked it up to toss in the garbage. But before she could let it go, her curiosity got the better of her and, pulling it close, she read.
Thirty minutes later, she finished the article and buried her head in her hands and mumbled, "Damn! How could I have been so wrong?"
Before she could change her mind, Emma grabbed her jacket, her phone and the article and left the building, making her way across campus to the chemistry building. "Mary Margaret!" She burst into her friend's office without knocking, "You'll never believe what I..." She stopped when she noticed that Mary Margaret wasn't alone, for sitting in front of her desk was the very man she had come to talk about. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you had company. I'll come back."
"No, don't go," Jones stopped her from leaving, "I need to leave anyway."
Without any further fanfare, he covered his dark hair with his fedora, and with a tip of his chin, left the room. Unsure what to say, Emma sank down onto the seat he had recently vacated noting it was still warm and a musky scent still lingered in the air. "Why was he here?" she asked without preamble.
Mary Margaret snickered, "Hello to you, too."
"Sorry," Emma apologized. "How are you? And why was he here?"
Her friend waved her hand toward her desk where a pile of keys lay. "Would you believe my car keys?"
Emma raised a brow, "Really?"
"Really. Now tell me what has you so rattled."
Unsure where to start, Emma started with the early morning collision and ended with her discovery of how she had been wrong, jumping to some conclusions that she shouldn't have. "He wasn't generalizing for all children raised in the system," Emma shared excitedly, "I think he was saying that the attachment theory would suggest that with this particular case, the person had an inability to regulate in infancy due to abandonment and a broken parental bond, leading to social deviance as a child which carried through to adulthood." She grimaced, "I can appreciate this and probably," she sighed, "shouldn't have been so angry."
When Mary Margaret didn't say anything, Emma leaned on the desk. "What do I do?"
"Apologize," her friend said softly.
Emma took a deep breath, "I was afraid you were going to say that."
On the way back to the Flipse Building Emma kept thinking about the best way to apologize but nothing felt right. She wondered if Clark had been able to sort things out between himself and his co-worker and if so, perhaps he would have some words of wisdom.
~~~CS~~~
Since leaving Mary Margaret's office, Killian had been trying to figure out what it was that had brought Emma Swan rushing into the office unannounced. Had she found his article? Had she read the article? And if she had, what did she think?
But why did he care? He was only going to be in town for a couple of months, unless he interviewed for and was offered the permanent position. So why did it matter what she thought of him professionally? Still unsure of the answer, Killian exchanged his tweed and wingtips for running shorts and shoes and hit the beach. After five miles he still couldn't come up with an answer and pushed for another couple before cooling down and making his way back to the apartment.
He stripped and stepped under the shower spray, thinking over the answer that he had settled on while running and that was that Emma Swan was an enigma. He heard stories of what a good instructor she was, how the students and faculty all enjoyed working with her, and yet the Emma Swan he saw was prickly...distant. She challenged him intellectually, whereas Buttercup stimulated him with her curiosity, her wit and her insight. If he could somehow combine the two, he would have found his perfect woman.
Stepping from the shower, Killian dried and wrapped a towel around his waist just as a notification from Buttercup appeared. He quickly slipped into sleep pants and opened the message. It read:
Dear Clark,
Were you able to mend the rift between yourself and your co-worker? I find that now I am in need of some advice from you. I have recently realized that I jumped to an inaccurate assumption and have treated someone poorly because of it. I am unsure how to repair the divide between us. Any ideas?
Buttercup
Killian couldn't help but smile when he read her message because whether she had meant to or not, she had created a tiny crack in her wall. Without much thought behind his answer, he sent a response.
Buttercup,
If you are wrong, apologize.
Clark
He was surprised when he didn't have to wait long before she answered back.
Clark,
I was afraid you would say that. Saying I'm sorry is difficult. No magic pill?
Buttercup
He chuckled at her response and answered.
Dear Buttercup,
No magic pill. Sorry.
Clark
But she didn't let him have the last word.
Clark,
No key to his stomach? No special Hallmark card or movie?
Buttercup
He got it, he really did, for saying you are wrong was difficult, but he had faith in her. Which was interesting since they had never met. Wanting to learn more about her, he just started sending silly questions, as did she, until a glance at the clock told him they had been 'talking' for four hours. His eyes barely able to stay open, Killian sent her one last question and when she didn't answer immediately, he allowed his eyes to close and drifted off to sleep.
~~~CS~~~
It had been over a week since Emma fell asleep while 'talking' to Clark, which meant it had been a week since she realized she was wrong about Killian and needed to apologize. However, saying she was sorry was not one of her strong suits and while she had tried...kind of...she was still working up to it.
She decided that starting with a peace offering and then apologizing might make things a little easier and after some subtle questioning had stopped by Starbucks to procure his favorite coffee. However, once she arrived at the University and located him, she had been upstaged by none other than Tina Bell, the college's barracuda. Tina had a reputation for flitting through men as quickly as a fairy flits through a flower field and by all appearances she had set her sights on Professor Jones.
After taking a few days to regroup and come up with another idea, Emma planned to steal a piece of his mail from the faculty mailboxes and drop it by his office claiming it had accidentally gotten mixed up with hers. Frustratingly, it seemed that someone else had the same idea because every time she checked the boxes, his was always empty. It wasn't until she happened to walk by his office one afternoon to overhear someone say, "Killian, here's your mail. It must have been left in my box by mistake," that she realized the culprit was Neal. She didn't think Killian played for the same team as Neal, but she guessed she could be wrong.
As February morphed into March and Emma still hadn't said she was sorry, she started thinking that if she didn't kick her own ass, her friends might very well do it for her. Mary Margaret sent reminder texts, Clark had started asking in his messages and even her kitten had gotten in on the action. Ginger had discovered the copy of the article that Killian wrote and scattered it all over the house, almost as if leaving reminders for her master.
Making up her mind that this was the day, Emma found out which room he was teaching in and planned to stop by on her way to her own class. Sadly, as had been her luck, once he was finished teaching, the podium was swarmed by a gaggle of girls and Emma was left out, yet again.
Tired of being one step behind, she finished teaching her class, packed up for the day and barely made it to the Metrorail for her trip home. But once she arrived home, she had too much nervous energy to sit still, finally changing into running gear and hitting the streets. Allowing her feet to lead the way, she quickly realized that they were leading her directly to the beach and its hard-packed sand.
Emma wasn't sure how far she ran, nor was she sure how long she ran, but she found a set of footprints in the sand and followed them blindly. In her head she created an image of the person she was following, thinking they too might be trying to outrun something...or someone. Her butterflies inside settling down, she slowed to a walk, allowing the gentle breezes to dry the sweat and calm her senses. The mysterious steps faded as they rounded an outcrop of rocks and as she scooted around, the owner of the prints came into view.
He had one leg resting on the shelf of a rock, his torso bent forward as he stretched his hamstrings. She couldn't see his face, but he had a five-o'clock shadow, and his dark head was moving to music only he could hear. She had just decided to turn the other way when he dropped his leg and looked her direction. Emma's eyes traveled from his feet covered in a bright pair of Nike's, up bare legs, baggy shorts, a bare, slightly furred chest into the blue eyes of the man she had been simultaneously looking for yet running from for the past month.
"Killian!" His first name burst forth before she could stop it. "Doctor Jones," she quickly amended, trying to keep her eyes glued to his instead of oogling his barely clad body.
Killian took a step closer, his eyes widening with surprise as he removed an earbud. "Em...uh...Doctor Swan," he hesitated before dropping his gaze to the sand.
Realizing that he might be feeling self-conscious, Emma cleared her throat, "Emma, please," she managed softly.
He lifted his eyes and gave her a shy, but very endearing smile, and repeated, "Emma," quietly, almost as if he were trying it to see how it felt on his tongue. "And you can call me Killian." His response was just as soft as hers had been.
Emma closed her eyes, but the vision of his chest, jaw covered with burnished whiskers and blue, blue eyes without glasses were burned in her brain, refusing to leave. Do it, she told herself, opening her eyes once again to find his gaze locked on her. "I'm glad I ran into you." His arched brow asked a question without his lips ever uttering a sound. "No, really," she rolled her eyes, "I wanted to tell you I was sorry. I've behaved like an ass."
He didn't say anything for the longest time, and afraid that perhaps she had waited too long, Emma almost turned to leave, but something kept her feet planted. "Apology accepted. Care to walk?"
They walked around the rocks, heading back up the beach and while not the comfort of an old friend like she felt when messaging Clark, their talk was, at least friendly. She found that when she asked him questions about his professional life, he appeared more comfortable and seemed to stutter less, which gave her a new appreciation for him. She hadn't really wanted to like him, but darn it, she did, and that was almost disconcerting.
When they eventually parted ways and Emma arrived home, she couldn't get their encounter out of her mind, and for the first time she found herself wishing that Clark was close. But she hadn't even told him where she lived...nor had she shared her real name. The dilemma of what to do carried her into the shower.
~~~CS~~~
The week after seeing Emma on the beach was a break for the University, and while he thought about flying home to see Liam, Elsa and Piper, in the end, he decided against it. He divided his days between research for the book he was hoping to write and allowing August to teach him how to windsurf. Each evening he ran along the beach and while Emma Swan didn't cross his path, it didn't mean she didn't cross his mind. He found himself thinking of her periodically, especially when he was in the middle of his research. That she might be an interesting co-author had crossed his mind a time or two, so much so that he had almost mentioned it to Buttercup and asked her opinion. But aware that he hadn't shared his real name and profession, kept him quiet...for the time being anyway.
The problem was that the closer he felt to her, the more difficult it became to keep quiet...but something held him back. It was as if he were waiting on some sign and once he had gotten that sign, then...and only then would he divulge information that would lead to her knowing his real name. What that sign was, he couldn't say...but when it happened, he would know.
The last day of the break, a Sunday, David and Mary Margaret were hosting a brunch for the faculty of the College of Arts & Sciences, and if any faculty members were in town, they were expected to be there. Killian arrived late and snuck in, hoping not to call attention to himself as he circled the room keeping his eyes open for...
"Looking for me?" A whispered voice asked in his right ear as he felt an arm circling his waist.
Could that be? he wondered turning to his right, only to be surprised by Neal's whiskered jaw leaning close to his shoulder. "Bloody hell, Cassidy!" Killian bellowed, jumping back quickly. "What are you doing?"
"Well, I thought," Neal started before being pushed aside by the college snake.
"Get your hands off him!" Tina Bell ordered Neal, shoving him out of the way.
Killian noticed people staring, which was the exact opposite of what he had been looking for. Slowly, he took a step back, trying to keep out of the reach of the groping hands. "Wai...wai…uh…just a minute here. There...there seems to be a...a...a big misunderstanding." His collar suddenly started feeling tighter and he swiped his finger around inside it in a desperate attempt to get it to loosen, all the while looking across the room for someone to rescue him. "Hold on, here," he tried again, taking another step backward. "There...there seems to be, uh...a misunderstanding." He took one more step and hit a table, causing the plant sitting on it to wobble.
Simultaneously, a hand reached out, stopping it from tumbling to the floor and another hand settled at his waist. He knew before he turned that his savior was Emma Swan, but where had she come from?"
"There you are," she hesitated just long enough to get the attention of both of his suitors, "Killian. I've been looking for you."
Emma positioned herself close against his side, her nearness causing his heart to speed up and sweat beads to appear on his upper lip. Unsure what he was supposed to say, Killian looked down into her green eyes shining with laughter. He swallowed his unease and nodded his head, "Aye, that's uh...that's right."
He swallowed again when Emma linked her arm with his, and with an, "Excuse us," pulled him away from the situation.
Once they were well out of Neal and Tina's hearing, Killian thanked Emma, and as they were walking by the buffet table offered to buy her a drink. She rolled her eyes at his remark. "Sure, but I can get it. Want something?"
He sent her a little smile and shrugged nonchalantly. "What...ever, uh...you're having is fine. I'll just be over…" he waved in the direction of several chairs, and when she nodded he moved away and sat down.
Killian watched her move around the table with ease, curious as to what she was making to drink, when out of the corner of his eye he saw someone sit down next to him. His breathing stopped until he heard, David's low laugh, "Emma making you one of her creations?"
He sent his companion a quick grin and shrugged, "I'm not sure. Should I be worried?"
"Oh, just wait," David intoned. "Our Emma has a sweet tooth."
"Watch it, David," Emma laughed, "I heard that." She handed Killian a cup piled high with whipped cream that was covered with brown sprinkles. "Drink up. I've got to go hear more about the sunsets in Key West." With a little wave, she faded into the crowd.
Killian looked at the whipped topping melting in his cup and lifted it to see if a whiff of the brown specks would give him some indication of what he was drinking. "Cinnamon?" For some reason that seemed familiar but he didn't know why. Many people drank hot chocolate, but he hadn't heard of many drinking it with whipped cream and cinnamon, except...and then it came to him. "Buttercup," he whispered.
"Buttercup?" David repeated, "No, it's cinnamon."
Killian shook his head to clear his thoughts because what was rolling around inside his head made very little sense. He had just swallowed his second drink of the sugary concoction when he realized what David had said, and asked curiously, "Emma always makes the chocolate with whipping cream and cinnamon?"
David laughed, "Always. Why?"
"No, no reason." He couldn't get beyond the fact that he had already been wishing that Emma and Buttercup were the same person, as each stimulated him in different ways and now...now if every time he was involved in a conversation with Buttercup, he saw Emma in his mind...how should he handle it? Needing to move to a safer topic, Killian asked David about his break.
"Oh, I took Mary Margaret to Key West." He went on to sing the praises of the little town that sat on the very tip of the Florida Keys. "Have you had a chance to drive down since you've been here?"
Killian barely had time to say no before David continued with the conversation, claiming the Key West sunsets were not to be beat and that if the opportunity arose, it was a place he recommended.
It wasn't long before Killian noticed people starting to leave, and as soon as he was able he too made his excuses. All the way home, he kept replaying conversations that he'd had with Buttercup over the past two months and combining those with what he knew about Emma. Was it even possible that they were one and the same? Or was it something that he just desired? And if his magical match wasn't ready to let him knock down all those walls, then what could he do without losing her...or possibly both of them? After all, he was only Clark Kent.
Later that night a notification arrived that he had a new message from Buttercup. Killian opened the app and read,
Dear Clark,
This may sound odd, but just out of curiosity, Clark Kent has several nervous habits that Superman doesn't share. Do you have any nervous habits you're willing to share with your magical match?
Yours,
Buttercup
~~~CS~~~
Emma wasn't sure what possessed her to ask the question, but once she hit send, she couldn't wait for the answer. When Clark didn't respond right away, she couldn't stop her mind from drifting back to the party and Killian's nervous habits. Besides turning really red, he was prone to rub his hand on his neck. Sometimes along the back and at other times along the front, and his speech patterns changed. They became more hesitant, even slightly dysfluent.
The dysfluency itself was interesting to Emma as it seemed to change depending on the environment. She had watched him arrive and he appeared fine, however once Neal and Tina had surrounded him, making him uncomfortable, he had really stuttered and then the stuttering had lessened as they moved away. But when she had seen him at the beach, once the initial awkwardness was over, his speaking pattern was different. Then his speech had been fluent...smoother, even if his sentences were not as long and eloquent as she had expected...or as long and eloquent as Clark's were, which was a curious comparison to make. But the cadence of his speech and the way his tongue wrapped around those British vowels did something to her that she hadn't expected. In fact, there were times when she found herself hearing Killian's voice in her head as she read some of the messages from Clark. How messed up was that? There would come a time when a decision would have to be made, she could feel it. The question was...how much time did she have?
Knowing she had to teach the next day, Emma tried to go to sleep early but her mind wouldn't stop enough to allow for a deep sleep. It took hours of tossing and turning before she finally fell into such a shallow sleep that she was aware of every little creak in the house and every move made by Ginger, thanks to the bell on her collar. Her dreams had Killian and Clark morphing into the same person, each saying words she would expect from the other. She reached a point where she wasn't sure which man she was running to...or running from.
When the alarm went off, she wanted nothing more than to bury her head under the blankets, but with an early class spurring her on, she forced her feet to move. Knowing she was going to need an extra shot of caffeine, Emma quickly showered, dressed and was out the door and in line at Starbucks before even realizing she hadn't even touched her phone. When she saw the notification, signaling a message from Clark, a little jolt traveled through her system, but wanting to savor the feeling she dealt with the non-important stuff first. Her thumb hovered over the app when she heard the barista call, "Swan," and the moment was lost.
A congested US-1 slowed her down and so it wasn't until several hours later that Emma dropped down into her office chair and opened the app to see what awaited her.
Dear Buttercup,
Just like Clark Kent, I find myself unsure at times and when that occurs, besides turning red, I tend to tug on my right ear. I've been trying to stop, but perhaps it’s a Superman transformation I've yet to conquer.
Yours,
Clark
"He tugs on his ear," Emma murmured. "Why does that sound so familiar?" Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn't eaten anything earlier, but grabbing something from the vending machines didn't sound good, so...
E: Have time to meet me at the student center?
Thankfully she didn't have to wait long for an answer,
MM: Sounds good. Usual spot in 20?
E: Perfect. See you then.
There were several "busy" activities that she could have started, but Emma found that she didn't have the drive to begin any of them. Leaving her office behind, she escaped the confines of the building and started the walk across campus. The weather was still perfect, and with the sun shining down and the fragrant flowers around, Emma found herself relaxing and reflecting over the past few months. Much had changed since last November when she had told Mary Margaret that she was not interested in dating.
November 2017
Thanksgiving
Emma dried the last glass, set it in the cabinet and shut the door. "Done," she said with a smile. She hung up the towel she had been using and followed Mary Margaret into the family room.
They settled on the sofa in front of the fireplace, both lost in their own thoughts for a few moments. "Thanks for helping clean the kitchen," her friend told her quietly. "When Robert is ready to go home, he means right then."
Emma laughed at the memory of the argument between the men and how in the end David had given in and driven them home. "That was sweet of David to drive them home."
"An only child," Mary Margaret laughed and the changed the subject. "Ready to let me in on why you arrived alone?"
Emma's head dropped onto the back of the sofa. "I was wondering when you would ask, but," she lifted her head, "it's not a big deal, really. When Mary Margaret's only response was a lift of her brow, Emma laughed and shook her head. "There was just something missing between us and..." She bit her lip, unsure how much more to say.
"Oh Emma," the brunette sighed, "he wanted more, didn't he?"
Emma nodded her head slowly. "I'm not sure why I have such a hard time picking men," she finished disgustedly, and gave her friend a tiny smile. "Know any men as special as your husband?"
She watched several expressions cross her friend's face and thought to herself, ‘I'm going to wish I wouldn't have said anything,’ before her friend even opened her mouth. "Well, it's interesting that you ask," Mary Margaret started, "it just so happens..."
"Stop." Emma held up her hand. "I was just kidding. You know I don't do 'fix-ups.'"
"But Emma, what if he's your true love?"
"Ha!" burst out before she could stop it. "Let's change the subject, shall we?"
March 2018
And if I had taken her up on the offer to introduce me to someone, would I have a third man in my life? Or would I have none? "Feast or famine," she mumbled as she entered the noisy environment of the student center and sat down at their usual table.
While she waited, Emma's thoughts once again drifted back over conversations that she'd had with Clark and how easy it was to share most things with him. Most things that is...except her name, what she did for a living and...where she lived.
"What's wrong?" Mary Margaret asked before she had even settled in a chair.
Emma frowned at her. "How do you know anything is wrong?"
"Because you're chewing on your bottom lip. Now spill."
Emma spent the next hour trying to explain the confusion she was feeling inside and how her feelings for Clark and Killian were morphing together. She found it freeing, but even talking about it still didn't give her clarification as to what she should do. "You've been quiet," she commented as she ran out of things to say.
"Have you thought about trying to meet Clark?" Mary Margaret asked her quietly.
"Yes," Emma nodded, "but...but I like what we have, even if it's not completely open. If we meet I might find out--"
"---that you might be wrong about him," Mary Margaret interrupted. Emma sighed, but didn't say anything, only nodded her head. "Emma," her friend reached out with a reassuring touch on her hand, "don't give up. Love is worth it."
All the way back to the Flipse Building, Emma thought about what Mary Margaret had said and wondered if she was brave enough to take a chance. Was her true love at the bottom of the hill, just like Buttercup's Westley? It was a question that certainly deserved a lot of thought but since she had a class of freshmen to lecture for the next ninety minutes, she would have to set it aside to ponder later.
As she stood in front of her class, lecturing about habits, Emma's mind kept wandering to her situation, but using every ounce of skill she had learned over the past few years, she made it through her PowerPoint without having to repeat herself too many times. She had just started a video to accompany her lecture when she looked up, meeting the blue eyes of Killian Jones.
The first thing she noticed was that he didn't have his glasses on and his gaze was so intense that she had to hold onto the table to keep from falling. He looked different, but beyond the absence of his eyewear, she couldn't put her finger on why she thought that. Almost like when Clark Kent becomes Superman flitted through her mind before she pushed it aside as a preposterous idea.
Emma couldn't look away, her gaze mesmerized by his and then...he smiled. A smile so endearing that if she hadn't been holding onto the table, her legs would have given out. Without conscious thought, Emma found herself smiling back, and then it happened, and as if in slow motion the room stood still.
Killian's face turned red and he reached up and...tugged on his ear.
Emma blinked rapidly several times, thinking surely, she didn't just see that. But he did it again.
He reached up, and once again tugged on his ear.
Emma's mouth dropped open, and just as she started to walk over to him, the video came to its conclusion and with a little wave Killian disappeared. She didn't know where the words came from, but somehow she closed out the class and made it back to her office repeating, "I am so screwed," over and over again.
Almost in a trance, Emma packed up and drove home, arriving to discover that Ginger had been busy, but she hadn't destroyed anything important. The decision time that she had been fretting about for a while had arrived. The question of what to do ran around inside her head, almost filling up too much space to allow her to function. She had just about decided to put it off for another day when her phone buzzed with a new notification from Clark. With much curiosity and a little trepidation, Emma opened the app.
Tell me dear Buttercup, are buttercups your favorite posies?
Yours,
Clark
~~~CS~~~
Killian leaned against the open patio doors, listening to the waves roll in several floors below. Usually the rhythmic pulse served to soothe him, but tonight his thoughts were in too much disarray and he'd resorted to a generous dollop of rum. As the amber drink burned a path from his mouth to his stomach, he set the glass aside and leaned on the railing staring out at the bay, hoping for some clarity.
With each ebb and flow of the water, the shore changed, reminding him of his own metamorphosis over the last few months. It hadn't been something that he had noticed as it was taking place, for then, he had been attempting to make some sense of what he was feeling. His emotions were wide and varied and they included those for his Buttercup, as well as many for Emma Swan and suddenly, the two women had merged into one...at least in his mind. But after speaking with Liam, there had been an epiphany, of sorts, and he had realized that the man he looked at in the mirror every morning had indeed changed.
He had arrived home from the party and, with his thoughts mired in confusion, he had needed someone to help him sort through them and reached out to his family. Piper had answered the phone and after listening to her stories about school, she had passed him on to Elsa. It hadn't taken long before Elsa had asked if she could help, and he thought about asking her for her opinion, but then Liam's voice came over the phone and he hadn't been able to stop the flow of words.
It had felt good to be able to articulate what was in his mind and what was in his heart. And once the words were said, then he had been forced to examine the meaning behind them. Liam had asked a few questions, but as the questions became fewer and his answers shorter, Killian had started to wonder what was going through Liam's head. The end of the conversation was really what stood out in his mind.
"Have you ever fought for a woman, Killian?" Liam had asked him quietly.
"No." He had never wanted to fight for anyone.
Liam continued, "A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets. So, Little Brother, if you want this woman, you need to fight for her."
Once he had hung up the phone, he found himself thinking about Clark Kent's transformation to Superman. It all started when he removed his glasses. He stood taller, more confident, his voice was lower pitched...and what he wanted, he went after.
Killian found himself in the bathroom, staring at the man in the mirror, and just like Superman, he pulled the tortoiseshell glasses from his face. Different, yet the same, he thought, wanting to do more. With a tug of the knot, his tie ended up on the floor and the top few buttons of his shirt came undone and his stance changed...looser...cockier. His hair...he mussed, letting it fall over his forehead. And the new Killian Jones stared back at him. This man, not the same man that looked back at him each day, but a man on a mission. A man willing to fight for the woman he wanted.
And that man made his first appearance at the University earlier today. That man had breezed through his classes and, needing to see Emma, had stopped by the room where she was lecturing. Exchanging looks with her had been intense, and he'd needed to hold on to the door facing to keep from pushing his newfound confidence farther...and then...she smiled. His heart raced, but the video's ending had sent him running home.
Once home, after a run on the beach, he set out to see how close he could get to his Buttercup and sent her a message. But now, hours later and she hadn't responded. Had he gotten too close? And if so, was she running?
Unsure what his next step should be, Killian readied for bed and, keeping his phone close, lay down, folded his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. His thoughts fell back on the encounter with Emma and how he felt when she smiled at him, his heart had...
His phone sounding with the theme music to Princess Bride interrupted his thoughts before they could delve any further into his feelings. Killian reached for the phone, quickly opening the app. Buttercup's message was short and either she was being a bit cheeky...or she was trying to put some distance between them. "We'll see about that," he muttered as he reread her message.
Dear Clark,
Buttercups are not my favorite posey.
Yours,
Buttercup
Killian's next message was short...but a little more personal.
Dear Buttercup,
How about Blue Bonnets? Are they your favorites? Blue like your Westley's eyes.
Yours,
Clark
Even though it was getting late, he didn't have to wait long for her answer.
Dear Clark,
I do like blue, but Blue Bonnets aren't my favorite.
Yours,
Buttercup
Killian's smile was decidedly wicked as he answered her.
You like blue? Blue like the sky or blue like the sea?
He couldn't put the phone down, he was so anxious to hear what she had to say.
Why, blue like the sea, of course. Oh, a bonus for you. My favorite flowers are Tiger Lilies.
Killian had his answer and assumed she was turning in for the night. He shut the phone off and as fatigue pulled him down into sleep, he continued to formulate his plan as to how far he could push her before her walls came tumbling down and he was able to win Buttercup’s heart.
Over the course of the next few weeks, Killian put his plan into action. His messages to his Magical Match included questions that became increasingly more personal, pushing her down that hill a little at a time. Initially, she met his new questioning technique with hesitation and challenged his with questions of her own. But then, it was as if a door had opened and she was walking through as she met each of his questions with ones of her own.
By telling her he had grown up in London, he learned she was born in Boston.
By telling her his parents had been killed when he was a teenager, he had learned she had been raised in the foster system. And that news sent his heart racing, for Emma Swan had also been raised in the foster system.
By telling her his magical match gift had been bestowed on him by his brother, his wife and their daughter, he had learned she had received it from married friends, who were colleagues. Could those have been David and Mary Margaret?
Mid-April was upon them and Killian wanted...no...needed to meet Buttercup, but he had one more question for her. It was quick.
Dear Buttercup,
If you could take a trip to see the sunset, where would the trip lead you?
Yours,
Clark
Surprisingly, he didn't have to wait long as her response popped up right away.
Dear Clark,
I hear the sunsets in Key West, Florida are like no other.
Yours,
Buttercup
When Killian read her answer, he couldn't believe the amount of relief he was feeling and he was being hit with it from several directions. Creating the perfect letter took some time but once it was sent, he was confident he had made the right decision.
The following week, he realized he needed a little advice and stopped by David's office. David's secretary smiled. "Doctor Jones, how can I help you?"
"Good morning, Mrs. Lucas." He sent her what he hoped was an endearing smile. "Is David in?"
Once inside David's inner sanctum, Killian got right to the point, "David, I thought I'd check out those sunsets in Key West next weekend. Would you happen to have a hotel recommendation? And would you mind taking me to the airport?
~~~CS~~~
As soon as Killian had left the office, David couldn't stop smiling. He picked up his phone to share the news. "Mrs. Lucas," he said to his secretary, "please tell Ruby thanks again for help with that matter."
"I'll do that, Doctor Nolan," she answered. "Is there anything else before I leave for the day?"
"Nothing, thanks." As soon as she was gone, David snuck outside to where a copse would hide him, should anyone come around. He needed to call Liam and fill him in on the news. As he waited for the phone to ring, he saw Killian leaving the building, and stepped back a little more into the shadows.
"David, good to hear from you," Liam's voice came over the line. "How are things?"
~~~CS~~~
Dear Buttercup,
Are you ready to meet me at the bottom of the hill? If so, I'll be waiting at the Southernmost Point in Key West on April 21 at 7:00p.m. If all goes well, the sunset will signify a new beginning. I'll leave my cape at home and be holding four Tiger Lilies, one for every month we've been talking.
~Clark
Emma read through the message one more time and the excitement that she had felt the first time was just as real...the tenth...twentieth, but who's counting time. It had taken her a lot of runs on the beach and talks with her friend, but Emma had made the decision to continue down the hill. She hadn't rolled down, like they had in the movie, but taken sure and steady steps, allowing him to get closer to her than anyone had in...forever. And after his last message, she had decided to drive to Key West...and meet him.
Ginger mewed and followed her to the door, and seeing her little forlorn, furry face almost stopped her...but, "You'll be in good hands, my friend." She picked up the kitten and rubbed her face against the soft fur. "Mary Margaret is going to take care of you. You like her, right?"
The kitten didn't look convinced but followed her mistress from room to room as Emma made sure she had everything and then called her friend.
"Hello?"
"I'm getting ready to leave. You won't forget to take care of Ginger, right?"
"Go, Emma," Mary Margaret assured her, "Ginger and I will be fine. Good luck."
"Thanks...for everything." While Emma didn't know for sure, she had a feeling she was thanking her friend for a lot more than just watching her pet.
On a good day, the drive along the scenic US-1 was almost four hours from her home in Coconut Grove, but add in a wreck and a little road construction and she didn't pull into the hotel until five hours later. Once she checked into her room, she had too much nervous energy to just sit around and decided to take the opportunity to visit the Hemingway House. Once there she was free to wander about the eccentric writer's home, admiring not only the residence, but the many cats that called the house their home.
After leaving the Hemingway House, Emma still had a few hours to waste and spent time walking in and out of the shops on Duval Street. Her stomach was so tied up in knots that she couldn't even think about food and she was too nervous to people watch, and so an hour early, she started in the direction of the concrete buoy that proudly proclaimed it to be the Southernmost Point in Key West, Florida.
When she arrived within eyesight of the buoy, Emma stopped and leaned against a store, shielding herself from others, but allowing her to see the comings and goings of the tourists. Her eyes were constantly moving over the crowd, searching for the man that she hoped was both her magical match, i.e., Clark Kent, as well as her Superman. Taking a chance on even the possibility of love was not something that Emma Swan had ever done until she had become his Buttercup. Now...she was here...and...she was ready.
She saw him coming from the opposite side of the street, his walk much more Superman these days than Clark Kent. He looked good as Superman, she thought. Contacts instead of glasses, jeans instead of dress pants, a vest and a shirt unbuttoned a few buttons instead of a tie, all topped by black leather instead of a tweed jacket. And not a fedora in sight, she noticed as he turned to look in a store window. She assumed he was window shopping until he straightened his jacket and ran his hand through his hair, leaving it artfully mussed. He turned back toward the corner and his lopsided grin caused her heart to do a little flip. That they had come so far was a miracle, making her think they were technically a miracle match instead of a magical one.
Just before he reached the corner, his steps hesitated and he stopped, his confidence flagging. His shoulders sagged, and his body relaxed and just like that, Clark was back. He dropped his head studying the bright orange flowers he was holding, four beautiful Tiger Lilies as he had promised and then...with a swipe of his finger across one delicate petal, his shoulders drew back and his head lifted. Superman had once again returned and Emma's heart melted a little more.
He looked toward the concrete buoy and Emma watched him take a breath and his lopsided smile once again returned. She saw him scan the crowds, looking for her, she knew, before settling off to one side. His Adam's apple bobbed and seeing that even when he was Superman he was nervous, Emma stepped away from the wall and started her walk to where he was waiting.
~~~CS~~~
Killian saw her coming and she was so beautiful all the words that he had planned to say disappeared from his brain. His eyes trailed up her slim legs encased in tight jeans, to her soft sweater covered by the ever-present leather jacket. Her hair blowing around her face and the sun shining on her gave her a glow, and those combined with her smile woke his heart and made it sing.
She stopped in front of him, giving him a smile that he hadn't been aware he was longing for. "I hoped it was you." Her voice was husky and a little breathless and the way she was biting her lip was endearing to see.
"Really?" He felt his smile grow, "I hoped it was you, too." He took a half step closer. "When did you suspect?"
Emma tilted her face up to the sun, as if working to bring back a memory that was hiding. "Clark and Killian had been merging in my head for several weeks, but then when you were standing in the doorway of my class--"
"And tugged on my ear?" he finished.
She nodded. "Yes. And then you disappeared." Her voice faded as she studied him intently.
His face felt stiff and too warm, as if he had been smiling too much or was embarrassed...or both. "I'm sorry," he told her quietly. "I wanted to stay but it felt like it was..." and then he stopped because he wasn't sure how to finish the sentence.
Emma took another step closer. "Too much?" she asked hesitantly.
This time it was his turn to nod. "Something like that."
"How long do you plan to stay?" Emma's shining green eyes continued to stare into his as if she were cataloging his features and digging into the deepest recesses of his mind.
She had asked him a question, but he had been so lost in her green-eyed gaze that it took him a while to process what she had said. "In Key West...or in Florida?
Emma rolled her eyes and lightly giggled, relieving some of the nervous tension he still was holding. "Florida, silly."
"Well," Killian handed her one of the bright Tiger Lilies, "that depends on a few things." He handed her another, each word carefully chosen.
"Thank you," she whispered softly, her breath blowing across the petals causing them to undulate slightly. His eyes rested on her lips before he forcibly brought them back to hers. She pulled the flowers down to clasp them tightly against her chest as she stared up at him, almost as if something held her captivated. Her pink tongue peeked out to slowly circle her lips and for the first time, Killian felt that there was a very real chance he would get to taste that mouth. Something he had longed to do but never really thought possible. "What things?"
Her words broke through his hazy thoughts. "A job," he handed her the third flower, "for one. After all, my position is only until the end of the semester."
Emma frowned up and him and took a step back. "Wait. I thought you were applying for Cora Mills' position."
Killian felt his brow raise in question, thinking that the fact that she was aware he had been offered the opportunity to apply for the position was an interesting piece of information. "I've been told about the position but haven't decided if I should apply or not." He took a step forward closing the distance that she had just added.
"What...what will help you determine whether or not to apply?" she asked him breathlessly.
A tiny smile played along her lips, their twitching pulling his eyes to them time and again. "I think you know." He handed her the last flower, his eyes open for her to read whatever was in them that she wanted to see.
~~~CS~~~
His blue eyes had been hypnotizing her since she had stopped in front of him and the more she stared, the more rubbery her legs became. Hearing him talk and listening to the melodic tone to his voice, the more he pulled her in...bringing her closer to him...making her want to step into him, letting him wrap her in his arms. But patience and allowing things to develop between them naturally had worked so far, which was why she was working so hard to refrain from staring at his lips.
Hearing him remind her of the temporariness of his position and then telling her he hadn't applied for the other one sent a shock of fear zipping down Emma's spine. That wasn't like her, yet as he uttered the words, "I think you know," she had to look down to make sure that her legs weren't slowly melting into the very ground beneath her feet. Surely, he couldn't mean her, could he?
But then she looked...really looked in his eyes and what she saw was so raw...so heart-wrenchingly beautiful, she couldn't keep from stepping closer. The toes of her boots touched his and her hands rested against the soft leather of his jacket. "Killian?" There was so much she wanted to say but how to verbalize exactly what she was feeling was a problem, because as she had said earlier to him...it just felt so big.
He took another step and cupped her elbows, pulling her closer, so close that she could feel his breath on her face. "Yes, love?"
Emma wasn't sure if the word was an endearment or just something that he used when speaking to others, but it sent awareness along her skin. "Where's home?"
He leaned his head closer and whispered, "I have a flat in Cambridge, which is the University I am on sabbatical from, and my family lives outside of London, why?"
She shook her head, turning questioning eyes to his. "You would be willing to give up your...family for me?"
"Aye." His breath wafted across her mouth, making her want to lean forward...just an inch closer, to finally seal their lips. "Buttercup," he tugged her into his body, locking his arms around her, "can I be your Westley? Can I be your happy ending?"
The words were barely out of his mouth before Emma took the leap and locked her mouth to his. He tasted like heaven and his arms...those felt like home. Their lips parted briefly, just long enough for her to mutter, "Welcome home, Killian."
The setting sun touched the ocean, painting the world around them with a golden glow. Killian swung Emma around dipping her in his arms. “Is this the Happy Ending you envisioned for Buttercup, Swan?”
She smiled, “It’s not a happy ending, Killian. It’s a Happy Beginning.” He swung her back into his arms and captured her lips once again as the sun sank into the ocean and the night closed around them.
~fin
Thanks for reading
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Clark Kent x Reader
You are my Sunshine
Warnings: Blood, Death Angst
The other night dear, as I lay sleeping
I dreamed I held you in my arms
But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken
So I hung my head and I cried
“Clark, CLark! Wake up you're going to be late for work,” He heard a slightly annoyed voice say, shaking him as they spoke.
“I saved the world, I think I can be late for work Y/n.” He said sleepily, moving to roll over but before he was able to he felt a weight on him.
“Superman saved the world, not Clark Kent, so no you can’t be late for work,” Y/n told him as they leaned down to kiss his chin, “ Besides I won’t be home for you to curl up against, so what would be the point?”
“Then stay home to Y/n, we both deserve rest sunshine.” Clark murmured, pulling them down to kiss him, but before they could kiss, or could respond.
Buzz Buzz Buzz
Clark let out an annoyed groan when his alarm clock went off. He outstretched his hand feeling around his, your, bed for you, he felt that you weren’t there. He called your name, “Y/n, my sunshine where are you?” He called out to you before he fully woke up and realized that you weren’t there anymore.
“Sunshine, where are you?” Clark called out again, naively forgetting that you weren’t there anymore, at least for a moment at least anyway. When you didn’t respond, he got out of bed, and woke up fully doing so he realized that you were gone. He fell to the floor, holding his head in his hands and sobbed.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You'll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away
You had gotten hit by a car, you were walking towards the Daily Planet to meet Clark and Lois for lunch, the car came out of nowhere. No one could have seen it coming. A freak accident on a relatively peaceful day.
Lois and Clark walked towards where they were going to meet you when the crash happened. Lois realized who got hit before Clark did.
She tried to pull him back from the wreck when she saw who it was. She was just not strong enough. He saw you bloodied, broken, lying on the cold ground. Clark ran to your body, hoping for once that his super hearing was mistaken, that your heart still was beating.
He held your body tight against his, sobbing into your bloodied hair. Begging for you to come back to him, begging the world to let him wake up from this nightmare.
I'll always love you and make you happy
If you will only say the same
But if you leave me and love another
You'll regret it all someday
“I loved, love Y/n… She was the most important person in my life. I wish every day since she died, that I was in her place instead. That I died instead, I know she wouldn't have wanted that, but I still think about it. Every day since she died I wake up and think that it was all a bad dream, that she's just in the next room.” Clark spoke, his voice cracking. He was crying not bothering to try and hide it.
He was speaking at her funeral service, something that he never hoped to see, he always wished to die before her so he wouldn't have had to see a world with his Y/n.
It was selfish of him to hope to die before her, but sometimes he was selfish.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You'll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away
He had fallen to his knees when they had to bury her. He was sobbing, it was long since he tried to hide his tears.
Martha knelt next to her son and pulled him against her, letting him cry against her shoulder; she rubbed her hand down his back trying to comfort him to no avail.
“It's okay. You can cry, Clark. It's alright.” Martha reassured him.
Clark looked at his mother, tears staining his face, “Why her? Out of everyone, why her?”
“Sometimes life's like that. There's nothing you can do to stop it, even you Clark. No matter how much you try to change the way life works, you can't.” Martha told him, pulling away from him as she stood up from the ground, she gently pulling Clark up with her.
“She didn't deserve to die. We had so much left to do, we were planning on doing so much. It's not fair.”
“Sometimes life's not fair. If it was your father would still be alive and Krypton would still be around. Are you staying here for a while or are you coming with us?” Martha asked, looking towards Lois and Jimmy.
Clark shook his head and looked down at the freshly dug dirt.
“Okay. Come home whenever your ready Clark. We’ll be are here for you when you need us.” Martha said as she walked towards Lois and Jimmy.
You told me once, dear, you really loved me
And no one else could come between
But now you've left me and love another
You have shattered all of my dreams
Clark sat in his apartment, staring off into the distance, not paying to the world around him. The building around him could be on fire and he wouldn't have noticed.
He didn't realize when a woman's voice called his name.
“Clark, Clark, Clark!”
He only realized that she was there when she grabbed his shoulder and shooked it lightly. He looked towards the woman he shook him, seeing that it was Diana he turned back, staring back into the distance.
“What Diana?” Clark asked her, his voice devoid of any emotion.
He was becoming a shell of the man he once was, something that Y/n would never have wanted, it was something that he knew, he just couldn't stop it.
“Clark your friends are worried about you. They want to know how you are doing.” Diana said concerned.
She looked around the room, how it was a mess with dirty clothes and crumbled paper everywhere. It looked like no one had cleaned in weeks. Clark most likely hasn't cleaned in weeks.
“I'm fine, I'm just thinking.” He responded. He turned around to face her, seeing the concern written plainly across her face.
She shook her head, clearly not believing him.
“Even without the Lasso of Hestia, I would know that you are lying. You haven't been fine since Y/n died. The leagues worried, your friends at the Daily Planet are worried. Even Bruce is worried, he almost came instead of me.” Diana told him, kneeling down and looking into his eyes.
His eyes were red from crying; he had bags underneath them from lack of sleep. Diana wondered how much sleep he was getting if he was getting any at all.
“So Bruce almost came instead of you, what was he worried that I would start going around in black wearing a bat suit at night was he?” Clark chuckled.
“Clark.”
“Okay, okay Diana. I am thinking. Too much probably, I just miss her. Diana, I just miss her so much.” He told her, letting a few tears fall. Diana heard how defeated he sounded and it hurt her to see her friend in pain.
She knew how he feels, she wished that she could do more to help him.
“I know Clark. I miss her too.”
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You'll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away
Clark was flying across Metropolis; He was Superman. He hasn't flown in ages, hasn't been Superman longer. He looked down at the people of Metropolis, watching as they went on with their lives.
He flew until he reached Gotham, he landed and was instantly greeted by Bruce.
“You're doing better.” Bruce's gruff voice said from the shadows.
“Yeah… I suppose I am. Not by much though.” Clark replied, his voice still sounding distant. He looked around at Gotham's noir buildings.
“That's a start.”
“Suppose it is.” Clark turned to face Bruce, he looked at his friend’s masked face, “Does it get easier?”
Bruce hesitated for a moment, looking off into the sky at the bat signal that was lighting up the sky. Shining like the beacon it was. Clark turned from looking at Bruce to looking at the signal.
“It takes time. I've learned that if you have people that you care about around you it helps.” He chuckled as he spotted Nightwing and Robin swing across the skyline.
“Do you need help or do y’all have it handled?” Clark turned and looked at Bruce, Clark smirked when he saw that he annoyed Bruce by saying y’all.
Bruce sighed and grappled away, “Only if you don’t say y’all around Nightwing. I don’t want him using that word in every sentence again, it was annoying enough last time. I almost found some Kryptonite.”
“Gee, thanks, Bruce. Glad to know that you care.” Clark told him sarcastically as he followed after him into the night.
In all my dreams, dear, you seem to leave me
When I awake my poor heart pains
So when you come back and make me happy
I'll forgive you dear, I'll take all the blame
How’d Deathstroke ever get his hands on Kryptonite is a question Bruce would be getting answers for sooner rather than later.
Clark being the ever boy scout he took the knife Slade had thrown at Bruce, not realizing that it was covered in Kryptonite. Neither of them knew that it was a set up to kill Superman.
“It’s been fun playing with you boys, but I have to go.” Slade’s said, twisting the knife embedded in Clark's chest before he pulled it out.
Clark had fallen to the ground, when the knife embedded into his chest, instead of shattering against him. The wound in his chest was bleeding profusely. Bruce rushed to his side, to try and stop the bleeding, not thinking of going after Slade.
“I can see her, I can see my Sunshine.” Clark weakly said. He took ragged breaths, his lungs filling with blood. His eyes becoming unfocused and distant.
“Now's not the time to hallucinate Clark.” Bruce told him as he quickly worked to stop the bleeding.”Nor is it the time to die.”
Clark tried to laugh, instead, he ended up coughing up blood. Clark smiled as he looked off into the distance.
“I can hear her. Bruce, she’s calling my name, she wants me to go to her.” Clark whispered.
“That’s a lie and you know it Y/n would want you to live not die. She would rather wait however long your life is to see you again than see you early, so if you die now she will be angry at you.” Bruce told Clark as he called the league for help. Help that he hoped would come soon.
“You’re right, but I just want to see my Y/n, I haven’t seen her in so long. I miss Y/n” He said barely above a whisper. “I just want Y/n.”
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You'll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away
#clark kent#clark kent x reader#clark kent imagine#superman x reader#superman imagine#superman#dc imagine#dc x reader#dc#writing tags
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Saving Today
Title: Saving Today
Fandom/Universe: Wonder Woman/Justice League (DCEU)
Summary: For two people, the time that froze slowly starts to move again.
Rating: PG
Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Friendship/Romance
Word Count: 2,519
AO3 and ff.net links.
I read in an interview that Henry Cavill thought Superman's answer to the kids' question at the beginning of the movie would be "Love", which fits well with the theme of WW. (Personally I expected there to be a bookend of Superman's response at the end of the film, and to be something along the lines of "anyone can be a hero/take his place", but I accept that it was left open to interpretation and so did the same here.)
“What’s the best thing about planet earth?”
Superman pauses, taken aback. Deliberating deep, he meditates off to the distance, squinting at the sky. Into infinite blue space, the place where he once came from. The sun and source of all of his strength, of life and warmth and cheer. Soaking it in as he ponders, selecting his words carefully, then smiles.
-
Diana switches off the recording, leaning back from her laptop as she peers towards the photo propped on her desk. Her fingers extend out, ghosting over the glass, running faint along the gray and grainy faces of ghosts long gone from this world. Longingly.
“What do you think, Steve? Is he right?”
In lieu of an answer, her phone starts to ring. Glancing at the Caller ID, she sighs at such inconvenient timing.
It’s true what they say about little boys: Once you share with them, they won’t ever leave you alone.
-
“I want to show you something.”
She trails behind as Wayne guides her through the entry hall of the old, abandoned building. A cathedral-esque monument, stone worn and sagging with the weight of age on its foundations, yet still standing proud as a testament to time. Her echoing heels click across the concrete, littered with dust and doves taken roost amongst shattered chandeliers, sent aflutter as soon as the grand doors fling open wide to its central atrium. Feathers float down from the few decorative hangers still suspended above, dangling crystal shards and stars overhead as they refract shafts of light streaming through the curtains, filtered red and white and gold.
“Must be 100… 150 feet.”
Her host declares with gusto, gazing eagerly around the empty room like a child opening his presents on Christmas day. An artist before his blank canvas, envisioning masterful brush strokes of an image yet to come into being.
“Must be.”
The butler beside resounds the obvious, with all the clearly learned patience of humoring his master’s many whims.
“Big round table – six chairs – right there.”
Bruce indicates vaguely before him, as Alfred sports an unsurprised smirk, merely grunting softly in acknowledgment. She struts between the two, chiming in with the words on all their minds:
“…But room for more.”
-
Later, by the lake. Where they walked before, and she spoke of the Motherboxes, of the history of mankind, and their ancestors’ alliance with Amazons and merfolk – and more. Where he told her not to count on the “tribes of men”, but instead to ask people they didn’t know to risk their lives, and battle beside them for the fate of the world. To place her faith in the hands of total strangers. To lead again, after what happened to…
“Did you want one?”
“What?”
Diana startles out of her reverie. She sees Bruce pointing at an ice cream cart by the park path, predictably surrounded by a crowd of kids clamoring for their parents to purchase them frozen treats. Compared to the peaceful environs of their prior private conversation, a part of her prefers the bustling scene during peak hours, as an energetic jogger sprints past, followed by a couple happily holding hands…
“Probably because they’re together.”
“You were staring at it for a long while. I’ll buy you one if you want.”
Diana shakes her head.
“No, that’s all right. Thank you.”
“Please, allow me,” he insists, reaching for his (no doubt overflowing) wallet. “As an apology, for the things I said before…” He hesitates. “About Steve Trevor.”
She gives him a sidelong glimpse, gauging sincerity.
“You already apologized, Bruce. You don’t need to do anything more. Besides,” she breathes a low exhale. “You were right. I’ve been using Steve’s memory as a crutch, preventing me from doing the thing I came here to do: Make the world a better place. Even now,” she confesses quietly, “I have my doubts about returning to be a part of a ‘team’ again. To step back into the spotlight after all these years…”
She looks out over the still surface of the lake, hugging arms to her breasts in conflict as Bruce heeds her air uncertainties (understanding perhaps all too well).
“You know, I bet an ice cream will make you feel better,” he quirks a grin, coaxing gently. “C’mon, my treat.”
Admittedly, she can’t help but be amused by his persistence. Thus despite her reservations, she relents.
“All right,” she agrees at last with a laugh. “But only if you join me.”
Bruce blanches a bit at the reverse requisite, backpedaling.
“Oh, I uh-” he coughs, belatedly recognizing his own hypocrisy. “I don’t really eat sweets.”
She doesn’t need to ask to know the answer why. She can tell just by looking: From the beginning, it was evident that this was a man who’s denied himself the simple joys in life for so long, ostensibly as part of his dedicated crusade for “justice”. But even underneath that strict self-disciplining façade, a pristine pretense of devotion to one’s trade – the “mission”, as he calls it – it’s easy to discern the raw regret buried deep down; no Lasso of Truth necessary to reveal that much.
“To be honest,” he muses, marveling as if in awe at his own self-realization, “I don’t think I’ve eaten ice cream since I was eight years old.”
“And I haven’t had it in over 100 years,” she rejoins, teasingly rolling her eyes. “Your point being?”
Bruce rubs the back of his neck, unable to argue with such effective (if extreme) logic being thrown back at him.
“Guess this’ll be a renewed experience for both of us then,” he chuckles, conceding defeat.
They take two scoops: vanilla for her and chocolate for him. As promised, he pays for her fare.
Etta would be proud, Diana thinks to herself as she tentatively ventures her tongue to taste the delicacy, daring but a delicate dab at first. If only she were here to see as well. Bold and ever-buoyant despite the loss of her own beloved employer, the bubbly redhead had unabashedly invited her many times to partake in parfaits (no doubt as a benevolent effort to brighten her spirits, albeit framed as but an affable gesture between friends), but she’d always declined, feeling such indulgent fluff forbidden while the wound in her heart was still fresh. Perhaps now, after all this time, she could stand to stomach the superficial associations and permit herself pleasure for once instead of sorrow.
As soon as she bites into the savory snow-white sweetness, rich and airy as a cloud of cream, the dizzying memories melt in her mouth. Of swaying under a flurry of flakes as people laughed and sang around them, safe and sound after their town had been liberated by a band of heroes. Of hands grazing tender across her cheek, his lips on hers like the heat of a match spark, kindling tinder in their hearts. Of a pinned paper princess, watching her steadfast tin soldier go up in flames, wishing to dance with him just once more…
She stops, swallows sugar mixed with salt. Peeking over at her partner, she observes his own hand halted, cone hovering far from his feeding orifice as dark brown droplets drip down the sides.
“You haven’t touched yours.”
“Huh?” He blinks. “Oh… Sorry, guess I got distracted.”
She traces the direction of his sight, sensing it focused on a particular familial pair nearby: a small boy and his father, as the former tugs on the taller’s sleeve, begging for his favorite flavor. The man obliges, ruffling his son’s scalp as he gleefully laps up the goodie. Diana notes Bruce’s grip tighten on his own confectionary, contemplative wrinkles written on his countenance. A visage veiled with wistful mist. His eyes are remote, ruminating; like black moons eclipsed by smoke, seemingly somewhere else.
Diana knows that look. She’s seen it in tears of Lois Lane as she cradled her lost love in her limbs (reflecting her own when she witnessed the explosion that took Steve Trevor away from her), crying and kissing his cold skin repeatedly as if it could somehow bring him back to life. In Martha Kent’s grief at Clark’s – not Superman’s – funeral. …In the mourning of mothers and fathers whose sons never came home from the war.
She knows, he’s lost someone dear to him as well. It’s forecast in his features, the heavy hunch of his shoulders, bearing an invisible burden on his back. In the way he watches the two amble away, reuniting with a waiting woman by the water, who welcomes her young with open arms.
It’s no wonder who it was. She saw the suit in the cave, tailored to fit someone of slighter stature. A costume further customized to fulfill some clown’s sick idea of a joke, defaced with gratuitous graffiti to taunt its presumed maker. Memorialized in its case (or perhaps more accurately a casket, in this case) like an artifact in a museum. Doesn’t take much guesswork to connect the gaps, and she deals with historical analysis of such findings on a daily basis. She doesn’t know the details (nor does she desire to pry), but she can conclude there was another presence there to fill it, once. …And then there wasn’t.
And yet… He continues to fight. For Gotham, for the world, and for his fellow comrades – fallen though they may be. While a part of her was paralyzed stiff by the all too painful parallels of Superman’s heroic sacrifice, he didn’t let that deter him either, spurring to action instead. To honor his memory by stubbornly seeking out and recruiting those that could take his place. (…Granted, guilt got to him eventually, to the point of attempting something so implausible that she could hardly believe it even worked.)
…Meanwhile, what has she been doing? Hiding away in the shadows for a century? As much as she correctly pointed out Bruce’s personal agenda to absolve himself of blame, he’d retorted right back at her how she’d been holding herself back out of remorse. …And he was right. Loathe as she was to announce it aloud, if there was one thing they apparently shared in common, it was their mutual inability to move on.
Maybe it was time to change all that.
She taps his elbow to draw his attention, smiling as she suggests:
“Why don’t we bring some back for Barry?”
Bruce bats his lids in confusion, then seems to light up at the proposal.
“That’s a good idea. Kid’s like a trash compactor. I swear he ate almost everything in the manor when he was there. Alfred complained about having to order more food when he just went grocery shopping. Speaking of which, remind me to install a fridge at the site. We’ll need to have supplies handy in order to keep up with his metabolism.”
He approaches the snack stand again, and while its vendor is somewhat stunned by the volume of the request, nevertheless can’t say no to the number of bills being waved in his face and hands over a whole carton. Bruce beams in satisfaction as he carries it in the crook of one limb, the other still occupied with his original serving, leaving the delighted peddler to count the (many times over) earnings from his secondary sale. They resume their stroll along the promenade, enjoying their well-deserved desserts whilst Diana listens to her companion carry on about his plans for the “Justice League”, as they’d decided to dub themselves. There’s a fevered enthusiasm to his tone that she’s sure must have been absent for a long time, and while he’s still a man of many mysteries to her, she finds she doesn’t mind being in the close company of a “stranger” again. …No, not a stranger. A teammate. Someone she’s stood beside in combat (against a conqueror of planets no less), whom she can trust to have her back – and vice-versa.
Who knows. Perhaps someday he’ll even tell her his story.
And maybe one day she’ll tell him hers.
-
Morning. Across the pond. She wakes up. Has breakfast. Reads the paper. There’s a major front page headline that catches her eye, about a recent string of museum robberies all across Europe, having now just hit the Louvre. Hitting home. Before, she wouldn’t have bothered a second thought, believing it none of her business. (Or rather, not worth garnering too much awareness from the public eye over.) It was only petty theft after all. Nothing the Paris police couldn’t handle. …But then again, priceless antiques were her business, weren’t they? She had a duty to protect the precious works of art she and others had worked so hard to preserve and maintain. Besides, as a man once chided her when she temporarily “borrowed” one of his toys: “Stealing’s not polite.”
She places the parchment down, and pupils slide pensively towards the framed picture once again. Her lips spread as she presses her palm to them, passing fondness on to his behind the pane.
“We saved the world, Steve. And now I’m going out to save the day.” With a wink, she turns to fetch her sword and shield.
“Wish me luck.”
-
“Look, it’s Wonder Woman!”
The warrior rotates as a group of youngsters gather excitedly around her, expression widening warmly as she gingerly restores the carved effigy back to its box. Behind her, uniformed authorities diligently jot down dictation of the already apprehended culprits as they recount exactly how they stole the statuette – amongst numerous other rare and exotic items. Coming completely clean to every single unresolved crime their gang was behind, courtesy of the compulsion of the radiant rope binding them – even up to and including the minor sin of pinching biscuits from grandmother’s jar at age nine.
Meanwhile, the animated adolescents similarly interrogate their idol, keen interest abundant as they bombard her with an assortment of rapid questions.
“Can I please have your autograph?”
“Is it true you come from an island of all girls?”
“Are you really over 100 years old?”
“Have you ever fought a dinosaur?”
“Um, what’s your favorite ice cream flavor?”
At the last inquiry, the lady’s eyes lower to meet those of the auburn-haired lass, shining up at her with cat-like curiosity. Her crest is crowned with a black band like a tiara, and a pair of cute kitten ears aptly poke out from her curls, ringlets reminiscent of someone from long ago.
The hero mulls over the query for a moment, considering it with as much momentous import as any other. It was a tough decision after all, what with so many options to pick from. (But then “variety is the spice of life”, as they say. Who would she even be if she stayed the same always, and never tried something new? To see the beauty of this planet and everything it had to offer with her own eyes, meet and get to know its inhabitants? Strive to both inspire and learn from their forever changing society, love and cherish and defend – no matter how scared she was of losing them in the end.)
…Finally, she makes her choice – and smiles.
#DCEU#Justice League#Wonder Woman#Diana Prince#Batman#Bruce Wayne#WonderBats#if you want it to be#Steve Trevor#WonderTrev#Superman#Clark Kent#Flash#Barry Allen#Alfred Pennyworth#Etta Candy#starstories#fanfiction#I haven't forgotten about my other fic#I've just had this idea floating around since I watched the WW film#now having seen JL I wanted to finally put it to rest
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Chapter 19
“I can’t believe you Richard. You agree with Clark.” I fall face first on the couch at the Metropolis house.
“Babe.” Dick runs a hand across his face, “I understand what he’s saying. But I love going on patrol at night knowing the Cat has my back.” He walks over to the couch and sits on the floor while reaching for my hand.
I hold his hand, “Metropolis patrol? But honestly, Clark unnerves me when he tries to be a dad to me.” I sigh as I turn my head to face Dick. “I know he’s my dad, but I don’t know him anymore. The men I know as a dad figure are Lex and Ra’s.” As I say their name I stiffen and give a small shudder.
They were never great father figures. The two men abused me in so many different ways, that just the mention of them still drives fear deep into me. Although, I knew Clark as a loving and caring father figure for the first nine years of my life. Lex and Ra’s destroyed the idea of a loving and caring father in my life. I stare off into the distance thinking about Clark being my dad all my life.
“Hey, babe. It’s ok they can’t hurt you. I won’t let them.” Dick looks at me and with his free hand he starts to rub my back gently. I give him a small smile. “"Don’t zone out on me. You had me nervous there for a second.”
“Sorry. Can we go on patrol here tonight?” I plead with my eyes and Dick gives me a small smile.
“Sure. But first how about a 30 minute nap?” He knew I changed the subject on purpose and he wasn’t going to press me.
“Yeah a nap sounds good.” I lock eyes with Dick and he smiles and stands up. I roll over on my side and Dick lays beside me holding me close. It didn’t take long for the two of us to fall asleep like that.
****************
At some point during the night, I woke up and left Dick asleep on the couch as I went and sat on the roof of the house. I take a deep breath, “Hey mom. The stars are really pretty tonight.” I look up at the sky and let out a sigh not hearing Dick climb up and stand farther back on the roof with his arms crossed watching me. He watches as I bring my knees up and wrap my arms around them.
“We haven’t talked in awhile mom. I think the last time was after Ra’s beat me and I was sitting on the roof of the compound covered in bruises. That was the last time we talked.” I sigh again and Dick frowns. “Mom, I love dad. But doesn’t he know that the normal life I want is the relationship you and dad used to have. Mom, I found that. Dick has given me the love I deserve.” I wipe a tear from my face.
“Mom, you would love him. He’s so funny and caring. He calls me princess and I call him marshmallow. I love him mom. Even if he agrees with dad that I should live a normal life, like you did. You’d love him too. Mom, he makes me happy. He does everything in his power to protect me.“ I sigh, “I miss you so much mom.” I wipe the tears that fall down. Dick waits for a little bit longer but I don’t continue to talk.
He walks up and sits beside me, “You disappeared and I got worried.”
Leaning against Dick I sigh, “I didn’t want to wake you up. You looked to cute sleeping there.”
Dick chuckles as he wraps his arms around me. “You know, I want you to do whatever makes you happy.”
“I know. But right now, just being here with you is making me happy.” Right as I said that I hear sirens in Metropolis. “Let’s go save the world marshmallow.” I smile as we walk back into the house to change into our costumes.
*************************
The sirens lead us to Lexcorp. There is smoke coming out of the upper floors. “It’s a bad fire and there’s people caught up there.”
“Cat.” I look up to see Superman flying to where Nightwing and I stand.
“There’s people dying up there dad.” I point to the smoke.
“Go home. I got this.” Superman puffs out his chest and turns to Nightwing, “Take her home Nightwing.”
That’s when Lex runs up to me with his arm in a sling, “Cat get up there and save those people.”
I look at Lex with a hateful glare, “You probably set this fire yourself. Just bored in your office Lex?”
Mercy walks up, “No experiment. He wasn’t in his office. He was down in the labs.” My eyes widen and I fly up to the smoke filled floors.
Dick looks at Lex, “I swear I’ll break the other one if you hurt her or even think about hurting her. Don’t call her experiment.” Dick turns to Clark and motions to the floors above, “Go, I’ll watch him.” Clark nods and flies up to help put out the fire and rescue people.
“Nightwing, I didn’t know you and Cat were in town. I promise I didn’t do this and I have no reason to hurt her.” Lex gives Dick a smug look.
“Yeah Lex, I’ve heard that all before, but I swear you even touch her or mention-” Dick was cut short when I flew back down and landed beside him. Ash was covering my face and suite.
“We got the fire out. It looked like someone knocked over a lit candle onto a stack of papers Lex.” I give Lex a look and Dick grabs my hand as the two of us stand there.
A flash of light goes off, “Oh joy the press. Look friendly dear. People expect that out of heroes.” Lex says with a smile as he reaches out his good hand. “Thank you Cat and Nightwing. Thank Superman also. I don’t know what I would have done without you.” I give a fake smile and nod my head.
Dick squeezes my hand, “Ready Cat.” I nod and hand in hand with Dick, I walk over to his bike and ride off. He pulls around the back of the house in Metropolis and looks at me. “That was civil.”
I give him a ‘really’ face and walk inside. Taking off my mask and throwing it to the side. “I should have broke his hand. But no, that’s not very hero of me. I’m just, I’ll just. I’m taking a shower.” I walk upstairs to my room and gather the stuff I need for a shower.
“I’ll make me a bowl of cereal.” Dick calls up after me and walks into the kitchen. He grabs the box of Coco Puff, milk and a bowl and spoon. Sits down at the table and eats his cereal. “She told Lois that she loved me. Well,” Dick looks up at the ceiling, “Lois, I love your daughter. I’ll do everything I can to keep her safe.” He then goes back to eating his cereal.
After spending a couple of day in Metropolis, Dick and I go back to Bludhaven. He needed to get back and Bruce needed me at go to the office and look at new things in R&D with him. So once I get to the apartment I put on some nice clothes, kiss Dick on the cheek and head for Gotham.
“You can come out Damian.” Dick says as he walks over to the couch and sits down. Damian walks around the corner and leans against the wall.
“Tt. How did you know I was here, Grayson?” Damian crosses his arms.
“I don’t leave knives sitting around.” Dick holds up a dagger and smirks.
“Fine.” Damian walks over to the couch and sits on the opposite end of Dick. "How are you and Lydia?“
Dick smiles at my name, "We’re good Damian. We just got back from a couple of days in Metropolis.”
Damian nods his head then looks at Dick with a stern face, “Are you going to ask for her hand in marriage?” Dick’s eyes widen as he looks at Damian.
What was he supposed to say? Yes, He had already lost one engagement ring in New York. He doesn’t even know how he wants to ask me. He just want’s to ask me. He want’s to be able to call me his wife. Dick lets out a sigh as he runs his hand over his face.
“I want to. I wanted to when she and I were in New York. But I lost the ring and Damian, It was the perfect ring.” Dick lays his head on the back of the couch. “I just, I love her Damian. She is one of the best things that has ever happened to me. I want to make her happy. I want to protector her from Lex, from Ra’s from the world. Damian, she is my princess, I don’t know what I would do if I ever lost her.”
Damian nods his head and with a soft voice, “Is that why you acted the way you did when Slade took advantage of her? Grayson, you are an idiot for losing the ring.” Dick let out a light chuckle.
“Yeah, Dami, that’s why I lost it and went after Slade. He hurt her and all I could do was sit there and watch.” Dick reaches across and ruffles Damian’s hair, “I may be an idiot. But at least I have her.” Damian rolls his eyes but there is a hint of a smirk on his face.
******************
Over in Gotham, I had just sat down in the chair next to Tim. I don’t like people, especially big wigs in companies. So sitting in this board room surrounded by people has me on edge. Tim notices that my leg is shaking, so he writes something on the notepad in his lap and hands it to me without anyone noticing. I quickly take the paper and read it:
It’s ok Lyds, none of these guys would dare hurt a Wayne. You can calm down.
With that I smile at Tim and my leg stops shaking. But what did he mean, none of them would hurt a Wayne? I’m not a Wayne, I’m a Kent. I’m confused and it causes me to calm down enough to finish sitting through the meeting along with the building tour. Every now and then Tim would offer me candy and of course I took it.
*******************
While I was in meetings, Damian and Dick just started their third round of Mario Kart. Damian shoves Dick with his shoulder causing Dick’s kart to crash into the wall. “Damian that’s cheating.” Dick says as he shoves Damian.
“If it is cheating then why did you just do it back Grayson?” Damian is puzzled but keeps playing. He now has a massive lead over Dick.
“Because Dami, you can not play Mario kart without bumping each other or causing problems. Plus, you started it.” Dick smirks as he uses speed ramps to try and catch up to Damian. Another shove from Damian along with tossed popcorn at Dick’s face. “You, did not little man.”
Dick drops the controller he was holding and pounces on Damian. Damian struggles against Dick tickling him. “Let me go Dick! I’ll kill you for this!” Dick lets go of Damian because he is laughing so hard. Damian gives Dick the look of murder causing Dick to jump and run around the apartment. Damian starts to chase him throwing popcorn at Dick’s back.
Dick jumps over the couch and grabs a bowl of popcorn. He continues to run around with the occasional turning to throw popcorn back at Damian. This continues until the two of them are out of popcorn and standing on opposite ends of the couch staring at each other and breathing hard. “Give up Grayson. I win.” Damian squares his chin and puffs out his chest.
“Ha, no way little D. It’s a draw.” Dick lets out a chuckle and falls onto the couch. Damian follows Dick’s lead and sits down on the couch. Both boys stare at the screen of their forgotten Mario Kart game. The computer won first and second place with Damian in third and Dick in last place. Dick sighs and looks around the apartment, “Lyds is gonna be so pissed at this mess.”
“Tt, you get to clean it up.” Damian says with a smirk.
“We still have 3 hours until she gets back. I’ll pick it up closer to time.” Dick slides to the floor and grabs his controller from earlier. He exits out of the game and brings up Netflix. “Wanna watch a movie while we wait?” Dick looks over at Damian, who gives him a nod.
Dick scrolls through the movie list, Doctor Zhivago, Godfather, Parkland, Rio, Valiant, Lord of the Rings, and The Time Traveler’s wife. “Can we watch Doctor Zhivago?” Damian asks.
Dick just nods his head and starts the movie. Not even thirty minutes into the movie Damian is curled into a ball on the couch asleep. Dick checks on him and smiles, then he spreads out on the floor and quickly falls asleep.
**********
I walk up to the door of the apartment and all I hear is instrumental music. I insert my key into the door and turn the knob swinging the door open slowly. The first thing I see is popcorn. Popcorn is covering everything, it’s all over the place. I narrow my brow and let out a deep sigh. I walk into the apartment and set my bag and keys on the table.
I turn to the TV and see the credits of Doctor Zhivago scrolling. That alone causes me to laugh. Lex made me watch all the old movies when I was with him. I had seen that movie so often that I learned the plot to it. I chuckle and start to walk past the couch to get the broom and dustpan. That’s when I see a hand on the floor.
I take a closer look and see Dick is laying on his stomach on the floor. His arms and legs spread all over the place. I giggle softly and smile, then something catches my attention on the couch. I see Damian curled up and a slight smile on his face. In a whisper, “My boys. Looks like the two of you had a fun filled day.”
I continue to get the broom and dust pan. I sweep the apartment and turn off the console and TV. Dick stirs but then lays still again. I smile as I watch him. Yawning, I turn and go to our room and change into Pajamas with little cats and birds on them. “Good night boys.” With that I gently close the door and lay down. Listening to Dick’s heartbeat to drift off to sleep.
The bed dips down next to me and I roll over to face the person causing the dip. “I didn’t mean to wake you, love.” Dick’s voice is soft as he kisses my forehead and pulls me to him. I just smile and snuggle up against him, keeping my eyes closed.
“Honestly I’ve been awake the entire time you and Damian were on patrol. You mentally yell. A lot.” I take a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. “Did you clean the apartment?” I slightly giggle because I know who cleaned the apartment.
Dick pulls me closer and tickles my sides, “It seems the popcorn magically cleaned itself.” I’m laughing now and trying to get away from him but at the same time I keep getting closer to him.
“Babe,” I laugh, “Stop.“ He’s laughing and I’m laughing. Dick stops tickling me and pulls me close. He smiles as he holds me up against his chest. After a while I speak in a whispered voice, "Please tell me you caught the guy?”
Dick’s hold on me tightens as he rolls on his back. My chest is laying across him while my legs and feet lay beside him. Dick sighs, “This mental link is a curse sometimes.” He leans up and kisses my forehead as I move my body to lay on top of him completely.
I cross my arms over his chest and rest my chin on them. “Yeah, but it is a blessing also. It let’s me know if you’re ok. But there is a way you can make it where I don’t hear every thought you have.” Dick raises an eyebrow. “Just stay whelmed.” I give him a small smile and close my eyes.
His grip around me loosens as he brings a hand to my face. His thumb gently rubs across my cheek, “Stay whelmed. Got it.” He smirks and I shoot my eyes open at his thoughts. He causes me to turn a bright red and I let out a slight huff.
“No, not that type of whelmed. Besides it’s 2am, you need sleep and so do I.” I move my arms to his side and lay a cheek against his chest. He gives off a slight laugh and wraps his arms around me. That’s how the two of us slept the rest of the night.
*******************
It’s noon and Bruce, Dick, and myself have been all over Bludhaven looking at office spaces. I didn’t mind commuting to Gotham everyday. But both Bruce and Dick were against it for some reason. So Bruce came to set up an office with a secretary, that way I can work and still be close to home.
The last building we went to was close to a little mom and pop coffee shop I liked. This coffee shop was named, “The Bird and The Cat.” It causes me to giggle every time I walk in. If only the owners knew that The Cat visited their coffee shop, they probably would flip.
So when I walked past the coffee shop I smile. The building next to the coffee shop was a four story building. The office space we were looking at was on the fourth floor. Dick wraps his arm around my waist and the two of us follow Bruce into the building and stand in the elevator. “What do you think?” Bruce asks in his gruff voice.
“The building is nice. Plus it’s next to a really good coffee shop.” I smile and Dick lets out a soft chuckle. Bruce smirks and rolls his eyes. The rest of the elevator ride is silent. So once the door’s open and I see ‘WAYNE’ in giant black letters hanging on the wall I gasp, loudly.
“I already picked this building. There’s six offices, a conference room, a large break room, and a research area.” Bruce walks forward turning to look at me, “So what do you think?”
I walk forward and x-ray the floor and I nod. “It’ll do. But, um, where is my office? I didn’t see it.” I make a subtle motion with my hand rubbing my eyes. Trying to tell Bruce I used x-ray vision. He nods and starts to walk around the corner. I follow giving Dick a look and he just shrugs and follows me.
“Since the office space is the entire floor.” Bruce walks into a space greeted by a young lady sitting at a desk smiling at us. “Your office is behind that door. But first, Lydia Kent, this is your assistant.” He motions to the girl.
She stands up and reaches out her hand for me to shake, “Stacy. My name is Stacy Clairefield.”
I offer her my hand and smile, “Lydia Kent. Nice to meet you Stacy.” I shoot Dick a side glance.
“Oh, I’m Dick Grayson, Lydia’s boyfriend.” My breath hitches and I smile at his statement. He notices my smile and wraps an arm around my waist, Well you are my girlfriend. He then pulls me towards him and leads me through two wooden doors.
Inside was a large office. It was decorated with pictures of Dick and I, Jason and I. One picture of Tim throwing something of me. A picture of me, that Damian had drawn. There was also lilies and orchids scattered about the office. In the middle of the office was a large Oak desk. There was a glass top to the desk, under the top are more pictures of me but of everyone else in my life.
“This is for me?” I circle around the desk and take a seat in the black rolling chair. I take in all the pictures. I even notice the ones of me as a small child with my mom smiling behind me. I gently touch the glass above the picture and whisper, “Mom.” Dick notices the tears at the edge of my eyes and he moves to sit in the chair in front of me.
“Yeah babe this is your office. B and I helped decorate it for you.” He smiles and Bruce sits in the chair next to him.
“Thank you. Both of you.” I smile at them and wipe my eyes.
Bruce claps his hands together, “I want to try that coffee shop next door.” Before both boys could stand up I was already at the door grinning. Dick laughs and Bruce just shakes his head, “I didn’t know you were addicted to coffee Lyds.”
I open the door and smile at Stacy, “I’m not. I just like the coffee shop. Marshmallow will also love this coffee shop.”
Stacy perks up, “Miss Kent, excuse me. Are you talking about The Bird and The Cat?” I nod my head and Dick raises an eyebrow. “Oh, Miss Kent, you should try Nightwing.” Dick snorts a chuckle and my breath catches.
“Excuse me?” I ask with a slight confused face.
“It’s their special coffee blend. Oh, or try Cat. That’s their green tea blend.” Stacy says with a smile.
Dick, Bruce and I walk into the elevator again. Once the doors close Dick starts laughing. “We have drinks named after us.” I laugh along with him.
***********
“Hmm, I don’t know. Red Hood sounds good also.” I giggle as I stare at the menu. Dick stiffens next to me, he looks at me out of the side of his eyes. I smile up at him, “Babe I’m kidding. I’m not a big fan of matcha.”
Dick releases the breath he was holding, “Hey princess, how about we get us?” I smile and nod, Bruce lets out a small grunt in agreement. The three of us order and take a seat in a booth That was Black with Green stitching.
“How did they get all this memorabilia?” Dick asks as he looks around.
I shrug, “I have no Idea. But how did they get that picture of us from two days ago.” I point to the picture on the wall behind Bruce. It’s of Cat and Nightwing running across roof tops playing Pokemon Go on theirs phones.
Bruce looks at the two of us, “We were playing Pokemon go.” I smile.The order was called out. Dick walks up to the counter and grabs the drinks. I look down at the green tea in front of me. Bruce got the ‘Batman’ which is straight black coffee mixed with espresso. Dick had the Nightwing which was a drip coffee that used the V60 style of brewing. All three of us took a sip of our drinks and laughed.
A/N: She talks to Lois. Will we see this happen again? Poor Lyds, you can tell she wants to let Clark back into her life. She just doesn't know how. Lex, Mercy and a fire? What is he planning? I'm glad that the boys are bonding. Will we ever learn why Dick calls her princess and she calls him marshmallow? STAY TUNED
Tags: @solis200213, @kathlyan, @memento-amare, @speedypan, @bat-lakota, @pinkwitch21, @queen-of-all-the-fandoms, @femdamian, @just-a-girl-maybe, @teachingpanda, @keepjasontoddsafefromeveryone, @wynterrobin, @gobydana, @chi-townbatgirl, @nightwingdiva, @ellana-ravenwood
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So you’re a tall and handsome alien with the super human strength and power of a God. And you just so happen to live on a planet filled with people that inexplicably look, speak, and act exactly like your own alien race. Except of course they're not as handsome as you, or as strong as you, or have any of your God like powers. And they can’t help but die if you hit them. You’re faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. And You’re able to catapult a punk straight to Russia with a nonchalant flick of the wrist. So you’ve got the looks, the God like arsenal of powers and the confidence that comes with that, and for some reason you’ve decided against becoming King of everything. You’ve said no to wearing a golden crown -- which only you could wear because it’s so heavy it would snap anybody else’s neck like a twig if they put it on -- and rejected the idea of having hot alien sex with their most beautiful and sort after women. No, you've decided against that. Of course being Earth’s sole ruler doesn't mean you would’ve been a tyrant. You could’ve been a benevolent master and ruled like a loving father, bringing about world peace and the end of crime with your fair and just policies. Perhaps your new crimes legislation, the ‘stop killing and stealing from each other or I’ll put my fist through your face act!’ wasn’t immediately popular with civil liberties groups, but who’d be able to argue with the results? No one would be able to deny the strength of your international policy, your ‘stop being a bunch of jerks or I’ll kick your nuts in so hard you’ll be sucking on them for the rest of your lives’ fair trade act. No, instead you’ve decided to create a secret identity, join the workforce and try to blend in with the crowd. In essence deciding to take shit from people much weaker than you who, you could easily melt with a single ray of laser from your dreamy blue eyes. Not only that, but you’ve also decided to retire from a hard day at the office to a hard night of saving jerks that keep calling you gay for wearing your symbolic, form-fitting, superhero outfit and then stretching the limits of your moral strength by not stuffing their own fist up their own ass. “What’s the S stand for - Supergay? “Stop fisting yourself. Stop fisting yourself. Stop fisting yourself” “ARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH” Not only are you taking shit from a bunch of weak pissants, you’re taking shit from a pack of idiots too. You’ve cleverly managed to disguise your true identity from them by simply wearing a pair of false prescription glasses. (Look, I know I look and sound exactly like that Superman character flying around town, and you’ve seen me rip a parking meter out of the ground and then kick a parking meter attendant straight to Massachusetts -- No, you’ve just been booked, by me! -- but I’m not Superman; see, I wear glasses. I’m just as pathetic as you.) So naturally you’ve come to the conclusion that either the entire human race are relatively blind or are, in fact, a pack of retards: Traffic jams, fist fights or entrapped anorectal foreign body surgery (Why is that even a term?) this is not a species you should be taking orders from. You’re cut from a stronger moral cloth and you want to help people, you say. Well then, why not start at home?. What about your adoptive parents? The dirt poor, mid - western farmers that took care of you and raised you as their own. Sheltering you and showering you with unconditional love. Remember them? Most other farmers would have tried to pitchfork you in the throat if they thought you were an alien. Or Mexican. Being a couple of rural farmers is hard enough as it is without having to raise an alien’s child who could literally kick the shit out of them if he wanted to. Literally “Eat your peas son” “I’ll fucking kill you” “Maybe I’ll eat them” So why not help them out? I’m not talking about plowing the old man’s wheat fields, or harvesting his corn, which by itself would’ve saved dear old pop’s back, and let him look up at the heavens once in awhile. No, I’m talking about returning some of that goodwill and generosity by easing their financial troubles. Like maybe finding some gold. Maybe fifty tonnes worth.In a cargo ship you just happened to find lying by the side of the road. “Hey, these gold bars are stamped: Property of Ecuador. Maybe we should return it to them?” “Oh, no I already tried. In fact, they insisted I kept it just so long as I blew out the huge fire that started when I arrived.” You can’t do that you say. You're Superman. It wouldn't be right. You stand for truth, justice and the American way. So no stealing I guess. Hey, that’s not to say you couldn't still make a fortune using your powers and help out your surrogate family in other ways. Surely you could make a few million by being a UFC world champion fighter? You could call yourself: Clarke ‘’The Superman’’ Kent. And when you fought guys like, ‘Chuck ‘The Iceman’’ Liddell’ and ‘Wanderlei “The Axe Murderer” Silva’, you could beat them with some flare. Like freezing ‘’The Iceman’’ into a horrified block of ice. Or axing “The Axe Murderer’’ with your karate chops, making their defeats both ironic and entertaining to the crowds. And what’s with this punk, Lex Luther? He’s been nothing but a thorn in your side ever since you decided to don the cape and costume. This guy’s almost killed you countless times.And there he is still walking around. Maybe he couldn’t keep breaking out of prison to kill you if he didn’t have any legs? It sure would make him easier to find. But legs or no legs that won’t stop Lex from trying to kill you. It’s like he’s obsessed with it. And he knows of the one thing that can kill you: Kryptonite. Do you really want a guy that knows your single but fatal weakness “walking” (read: crawling) around, single mindedly and pathologically obsessed with killing you? So You might want to take him out the next time he tries brandishing a stick of Kryptonite in your face. “In my hand I have the one thing that can kill you, Superma--” Zap! “...but I see you’ve burnt my face off. From a hundred yards away.With those laser-eyes. Probably won’t forget about that trick next time.” So how does it end for you Superman? Do you continue fighting crime and injustice one act at a time? Or do you hang up your tights and retire as Clark Kent. Stuck in a rut. Only to use your laser eyes to warm your instant coffee and using your X-ray vision to check out what Lois Lane keeps refusing to show you. Surrounded by morons and wondering what could have been if only you applied yourself to loftier goals. Like being king of everything
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Batman v Superman Review or A Conversation Between Two Disappointed Nerds
A few days ago, I finally got around to watching Batman v Superman. I had heard many things about the film, most of it negative, but I tried to go into it with as open a mind as I could. However, it didn’t take me long to realize that I was going to hate this movie. What follows is the conversation I had with Margaret (co-publisher of BOB Press) while I watched the film. I think it speaks for itself.
Roberta: Oh dear. We are about the watch Batman v Superman.
Margaret: Oh no. Be brave. And remember to breathe.
R: It's not starting off well.
M: It doesn't get any better.
R: O dear.
R: So that dude's dead.
M: Yep.
R: Do they explain what just happened? The fuck?
R: Now she's going to have to clean up all that water on the floor! What a dick!
[Somebody is going to have to clean that mess up. I would be pissed! And then force him to clean it.]
M: Yeah. There isn't a lot of explanation in this movie.
R: This is the worst.
M: Yup.
R: However, Ben Affleck does make an attractive Bruce Wayne. At least there is that.
[Hellllloooo, Mr. Wayne.]
M: Haha. Yes! I was waiting for that.
M: Silver fox for the win!
R: You know me well.
M: :) he is the only saving grace in that movie.
R: So I've heard. Why does it matter that he is Lex Luther's son if Lex Luther, in this universe, hasn't done anything?
M: It doesn't matter. It's a pointless plot device.
R: Omg the music for that scene was awful.
M: Which?
R: The one where Lex Jr. is discussing what's his ass
M: Oohhh. Yeah. That was awful. [Like how she knew what I was talking about?]
R: I normally don't notice the music. But Jesus Christ. Omg just all of the music is awful.
M: They make it too important in that scene which is why you noticed. And the score in general is just bad and not timed will to the action.
R: Omg the transitions are driving me insane. It's even worse for Owen. Why are some of these scenes not combined? [My boyfriend is a video editor and was screaming his anger at whoever edited this film. Seriously, we were getting whiplash with how often the movie switched from place to place.]
M: Because then they wouldn't have a movie. Just an episode of tv.
R: Why doesn't Clark Kent know who Bruce Wayne is? He works for a newspaper!
M: Another plot hole.
R: Jeremy Irons is not nearly old enough to be Alfred.
[Nothing against Jeremy Irons. I love him. He is great. But he only looks slightly older than Bruce Wayne so it took me a minute to realize who he was. Also, it seems that Alfred has also become a master mechanic. He also looks a bit like an older Tony Stark. Which is fine by me.]
M: Bruce Wayne is too big not to be known.
M: And he really isn't.
M: Not sure who I would have in his place though?
R: Just bring Michael Cain back.
M: Michael Gambon maybe?
M: Haha. Yes!
R: Ooo I like Michael Gambon. And if we are going off the age of the actors, Alfred would have been in his twenties when Bruce's parents died. No way. Also why does Lex Jr. know Clark Kent? How did nobody notice the bong sound that Clark's chest made when Lex Jr. tapped him? Jesus Christ!!
[Unless people in this universe bong when you tap them?]
R: Since when is Wonder Woman sneaky?
M: Right!?
R: This dream sequence has more of a story than the actual story and I don't like it.
M: Haha.
M: This is why book editors need to work with movie editors.
R: Yes. Because nobody dreams like that. It was far too vivid and it went to scenes where he wasn't involved which doesn't happen in dreams.
M: Unless MAGIC
R: At this point, I'm waiting for a wizard to just pop out and be all “haha you are my puppets and this is my adrenaline fueled fantasy!”
M: Haha
M: To true
R: What the hell is Clark's problem with Batman? What a hypocrite!
R: He leveled an entire fucking city!
[Bruce Wayne was there! He was witness to the destruction first hand. He watched people die. If either of these two have a right to be pissed at the other it’s Bruce Wayne!]
R: And actively killed a man! And probably thousands more died as a result of his city leveling shit! What a fucker!
R: Batman's not even operating in his fucking city. Back the fuck up bro!
M: Right!
M: I hate this movie.
R: This is the freaking worst. At some point the news was like, we need to know what happened in the desert. And I'm like “Yes! We would love to know what happened in the fucking desert!”
M: We would ALL LIKE TO KNOW
M: lol
R: I totally missed something about peach tea.
M: Yeah, I don't remember that either.
R: Well she freaked out about the peach tea and then everything blew up. This is so dumb.
M: Okay. Weird.
R: “I've found out what you've done.” Please enlighten us!
M: He doesn't even know.
R: So all of this was to pit Batman and Superman against each other? So, if he has revealed that he has pit them against each other why would they not work together to save his mom? And why doesn't Lex just kill Superman himself if he had the Kryptonite to do it? The fuck!
M: Because no on would have liked a Batman and Superman v Lex L movie
R: “I'm going to convince him to help me.” Start beating him up right when I get there.
[Seriously, if you land in a crater instead of landing gently, like we all know you can, someone is obviously going to be on the defensive.]
M: lol
M: typical men
R: Like, I think he tried once to tell Batman that Lex was playing them and then just started throwing him through buildings.
[I’ll try this next time I want someone on my side. Yeah. That’ll work.]
M: haha
R: In case you forgot the beginning of the movie, here it is again. Also, why did Lois have to be there to say it was his mother's name. Why couldn't he say that! And why would he say Martha? Why didn't he say “My mother!” Jesus fucking Christ.
R: And why couldn't he have just landed (gently) on the roof and said, “Hey, Lex is pitting us against each other and wants me to kill you in order to save my mother.” Why didn't that happen?
M: No idea. There is nothing in this movie that makes sense.
R: Fuck this movie.
R: Omg he created an orc.
M: haha
R: So was the orc the back up plan? And if so, what the hell was he going to do with it if Batman managed to kill Superman?
R: I also like the news report being all, “Luckily it's the end of the work day, so there aren't a lot of people there” since they got so much shit for the last movie probably killing thousands of people.
R: Yes. That is definitely how nukes work.
R: Hahahahahahahaha the island is uninhabited!!!
M: Conveniently so.
R: I'm going to lead this now radioactive orc into the city to get the spear Lois dumped into a deep pool of water.
R: This music is so awful!
M: This needs to be a mystery science theater.
R: Does Wonder Woman come in and save all their asses cause that would be fitting.
R: Wonder Woman was the most useful person in the entire movie and she was in it for 5 minutes.
[I must say that Wonder Woman looks pretty badass. Hopefully that movie is a little better.]
R: That was a mess of a movie. And that's being nice.
M: If only you wrote movie reviews.
But she was right. I don’t normally write movie reviews, but I just had to with this one. Especially since I had basically already written it via Facebook messenger.
As you can tell, my thoughts on this movie are less than positive. The story was lacking in sense, the transitions were awful, there were far too many plot holes, and Lex Jr.’s motivations completely eluded me.
Why is he so angry with Superman when, in this universe, Superman hasn’t been around long enough for him to have done anything to Lex Luthor Sr. so why all the (seemingly very personal) hatred? It’s just not explained at all. On top of that, Lex Jr. doesn’t seem to be very fond of his (late?) father, so...Why? Just why?
Honestly, I was just expecting some big twist that would match the ridiculousness of this movie. Like, I don’t know, like OMG IT’S JOHN CENA!!
Image from video created by Vidgeo on YouTube
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