quiet night in? so that's what they call it

[bossymarmalade]

There was only one thing Jason was sorry for about his and Stephanie’s relationship and that was the unpredictable periods of time they had to spend apart. It had been a couple of weeks since they had initiated the relationship and the couple had not seen each other since. He felt guilty but if anyone was going to understand it would be another ex-Robin.

He was rung the bell, he had told her he was free that night and was ready for their bad movie night but the paranoid voice in his head was asking him what face Stephanie would be wearing when she answered to him. He hoped it was not too sour a one.

The Chinese was ordered, a little of everything to cover her bases since she wasn’t sure what Jason would want. It’d been a couple of weeks before they’d both had some free time aside from texting, but that just came with the territory of their “late night curriculars”. Steph was just rocking skinny jeans and a sweater for their night and was in the middle of making iced tea when she heard the door belle.

She padded into the living room to answer and found Jason standing there. She couldn’t help the smile that spread on her face when she saw him, but regardless, crossed her arms and said, “Hey there, stranger. What can I do you for? I’m expecting company, but I can’t say I remember what he looks like aside from this killer smile. My memory is hazy.” Steph shrugged, messing with him.

Aside from this ‘killer smile’, Jason was sporting some black jeans himself, a dark red sweater that Stephanie had suggested he buy during their impromptu date and a red coat. That’s right, coat, as opposed to his usual leather jackets. The nights were getting colder and he didn’t want to start looking boring to Stephanie.

He used that aforementioned smile to invite himself in, close the door behind him and, without making any real physical contact, back Stephanie against the wall. He lingered there for a moment before kissing her. He pulled away and his expression went from enamoured to as cool as possible.

“That jog your memory enough?”

( and film critique too )

reveille

[bossymarmalade]

Most of the machines were silent now, the respirators unneeded and long turned off. It had been that way through the night, the ring on his finger helping him, help himself, to continue his recovery and his fight back to consciousness.

In truth, his body didn’t want to wake up. He was comfortable, without pain, and all his energy had gone into healing - he was exhausted. His mind, however, was a different matter.
Guy had never known when to stay down in a fight. He had never just surrendered against his will if there was ever fight left in him.

There was fight left in him.

He curled the fingers on both his hands. Or at least, he believed he did.

He heard something beeping nearby, and he knew that sound all-too-well. He’d heard that damned sound for the whole long time he had been left in a vegetative state thanks for General Zod and Sinestro. He had heard it in his early recovery after the bus accident. And he was hearing it now. The world outside him wanted to know his heart rate, his brain activity, his blood pressure.

It was none of their goddamned business.
Christ, he hated that fucking machine.

( trumpets sound )

naturally, it pours

[bossymarmalade]

Guy didn’t remember him.

That thought ran through Dick’s mind as he wandered the halls of the Watchtower.

Guy didn’t remember them.

All the thoughts they’d shared, all the times they’d laughed, all the plans they’d made were now nothing. They had no place in Guy’s mind anymore, apparently. Not, Dick hoped, out of choice; they just didn’t exist.

Guy didn’t remember.

There were so many things Dick had been planning for them, things he was going to tell Guy that he had never told anyone before. They’d been talking about going away somewhere, just the two of them. They’d started making Christmas plans. They’d—

( fall apart )

recharge

[bossymarmalade]

[Ring Txt] Hey Guy - The Watchtower reports say you're awake and feeling better? Good thing they got that ring on you. Sorry about...wall anyway. I can come up and bring your Lantern if you need a charge. Maybe you can come back to Casa Verde! Lemme know, there's a lot to I gotta fill you in about the GLC.

That morning, he had finally convinced them to release him from the restraints. He’d purposely acted a bit dopey to let them think the sedatives they were pumping into him were doing their job. In reality, now that he was thinking more clearly, he was able to use his ring to purge them from his system as fast as they could drip them into his IV line.

Suckers.

At least now he could move, sit up, and with ring flight, get out of bed if he wanted to. He had been trying to reason where his battery might be earlier that morning, and now, he was receiving this surprising message. He stared in confusion at his ring, then suspicion, then checked who this unknown Green Lantern was.

[Identity confirmed. Honour Lantern Kyle Rayner, designation 2814.4, currently assigned to Earth.]

2814.4?? FOUR? Assigned to EARTH? Since when does Earth need more than one Lantern, much less more than-…

His blood ran cold as a thought struck him, and he wracked his fragmented brain to recall if the archer had mentioned Jordan or Stewart. He’d…someone had mentioned John. Hadn’t they? A ghost-like image of John, bending over him came to his mind, even though he almost hadn’t recognized him, his hair was so much shorter, military-cut, not the short afro he remembered. And what was he doing there, wherever “there” had been? Wasn’t John on Oa, in the rebuilding effort?

No…that was six years ago, he reminded himself grimly. It was possible, though he didn’t know why, that John had been reassigned to their sector in the interim.

But what about Jordan? No one had mentioned Hal since he’d woke up, not that he recalled. God, if Ted Kord and Maxwell Lord were gone, and the others “off the grid”…

No.

Not Jordan. NOT Hal. He couldn’t be dead.

( setting in )

many punches

[bossymarmalade]

J’onn was alone in his Watchtower quarters, frowning at his computer screen. He was reading the published progress reports on Guy’s condition. J’onn was pleased to see the physical healing progressing at a strong pace - aided by the return of Gardner’s ring.

What troubled him though was Oliver’s addendum. Memory loss? J’onn had expected the general hazy brain functions that accompany severe head trauma. The Martian had even personally seen Guy react poorly to head trauma in the past. But this? This seemed more severe, less… less comical.

If what Queen had written was correct, it would also explain a flash of mental anguish J’onn had experienced in Darkseid’s chamber back on Apokolips during Gardner’s rescue. Guy was apparently reverting to a self image and personality that he once employed during their days together in the… Moons of Mars! This was bad! Not only would the Lantern have lots of events to catch up on - Hal, the Corps, Kyle - but he would not even understand the new structure of the League or his teammates! And what of Guy’s relationships? H’ronmeer! Did Dick know?

J’onn hopped out of his chair and headed for the door. He decided he was needed immediately in the med bay. His research on Darkseid’s motives and possible next moves would have to wait.

( recognition )

physical avoidance therapy

[bossymarmalade]

THUD-SHHCHING

THUD-SHHCHING

The punching bag shook with each kick, the chain rattling loudly in the empty Watchtower gym. Dick breathed heavily, putting all of his energy into every kick and punch. He’d been going at the same bag for over two hours, wearing it down all over. All of his frustration, all of his sadness, all of his anger and heartbreak and confusion were coming out, breaking down the bag until it looked like he felt. With a final roundhouse kick, the bag burst open, spilling sand into a pile on the floor.

Dick slumped to the wall, sliding down to sit in a ball on the floor. He was still a bundle of nerves, not sure if the shaking he felt was pent up energy or his body trying to shut itself down. He hadn’t slept since the one hour or so he got while Clark watched over Guy.

Guy….

A low, strangled groan echoed in the gym, a sad, lost sound of despair. Dick curled in on himself, panting as exhaustion and exertion caught up with him. He wanted to keep going until he dropped. Maybe if he just collapsed, he wouldn’t remember anything either. Maybe it would stop hurting. Maybe it would turn out to be some awful nightmare.

Maybe things would be right again.

( externalization )

the left coast

[bossymarmalade]

MESSAGE (ENCRYPTED)

Katiebird, when you meet me in my Coast bunker(coordinates attached, secret password is “collywobble”) remind me to tell you about what I’ve been working on wrt the ol’ Queen Tower.

Love, O

MESSAGE (encrypted):

collywobble? interesting choice, Ollie, though way better than ‘speak friend and enter’…god, that was so obvious, Tolkien.

anyway, I’ll be there by six, will bring pad thai, seeing as I have to drive like a normal person.

wrt Queen Tower: by working on, you don’t just mean the soundproofing of your office, I’m assuming.

love,
ks xx

The mention of pad thai got Ollie’s stomach grumbling — he hadn’t realized how late it had gotten, or that he’d missed eating lunch somewhere among catching up on the exploits and rantings of Glorious Gordon Godfrey, reviewing the proposed test filtration installments for his company’s clean energy, air, and water initiatives, and filing progress reports on Guy’s current condition.

Christmas was always a busy time in Ollie Queen’s world.

( turn off turn on )

redemption

[bossymarmalade]

A soft knock at his apartment door momentarily drew Dick’s attention away from the grief building inside of him. Looking through the peep hole, he saw a young woman standing there, biting her lower lip and looking overly troubled for just a simple friendly visit or a sales pitch. She was blonde, mid-twenties, and fit. Her clothes were nice enough; she was not poor. But as she looked around and waited for Dick to answer the door, her eyes betrayed her youth. They were pools of despair, of fear, or worry. This girl was in trouble. She needed help and she had clearly come looking for it at his door.

But Dick had his own troubles, his own pile of woes to keep him occupied. He wasn’t sure if getting involved with someone else’s problems was the smartest thing to do. He wasn’t even one hundred percent sure that he could be any help to anyone in the state he was in right now. But the spirit of service to others instilled by his parents could never be ignored. His years of training at Bruce’s side were not so easily put aside. His willingness to take charge, so honed during his years with the Titans, was too much a part of who he now was. He was a hero, through and through. And here was someone that clearly needed his help. Helping was what heroes did. And if all of that were not enough to prod him into action, he always had the thought of never wanting to disappoint Alfred.

The blonde was about to knock again when Dick opened up and said, “Hi. Can I help you?”

( surfacing )

playback

[bossymarmalade]

Guy stepped off the Zeta pad on the roof of Warriors with Kyle, looking rather green, and not in the usual way. “Wuhh…that’s…” He glared back at the offending Zeta pad, as he almost dropped his flowers, new Whitman book, and his battery. He was of course, wearing the sweater under his uniform, which looked slightly different than what people are used to, with its chains on the broader belt, and the unusually thick boots.

Kyle patted Guy on his back before floating off the zeta tube. “Not a fun ride, I know. But next time, your ring’ll know what to expect and compensate, don’t worry….” Kyle waited for Guy to recover and a thought occurred to him as he looked at the ring on Guy’s left hand. Guy might have lost his memories…but the ring hadn’t. Something to think about, later once Guy was settled in. He motioned to the stairwell. “So, let’s show you, ah, your home.”

“Sure…” he was looking around at the scenery, taking in the fact he’s on a rooftop, with gardens and a… “HOT TUB? No way, is that ours? I’ve always wanted a hot tub!”

Kyle paused, realizing Guy isn’t following. He smiled at all of Guy’s marveling “Heh don’t I know it. You wouldn’t stop talking about the hot tub, even built it yourself, dude. Works like a charm too, people /love/ it.” They trotted down once Guy was ready. “And here’s su casa, amigo!” Kyle had cleaned the place up, although he still hadn’t replaced a lot of the furniture and the kitchen island counter was still sloped off and broken. “It’s ah…a little bare in here right now, risks of being a Lantern means sometimes shit goes down in a Lantern home. You know how it is. The amount of times my apartment in New York used to get trashed, heh….”

Guy looked around, really impressed. He was listening to Kyle with one ear, but taking everything in around him. It was all new. ALL of it. “This is kinda snazzy…check out the TV, a flatscreen! I’ve been saving…heh…I was saving up for one six years ago. Anyway. Nice place…” he nodded approvingly. “Woah, lookit that view…” He was like a kid excited over a luxury hotel room.

( shadows on a screen )

bug out

[bossymarmalade]

[Ring Txt] Got a call about something going down on Agraria-7. My guess is space bugs. Let’s charge up and check it out? Kyle.

Kyle laughed as well. “Got your giant can of bugspray ready? It’ll all routine, I’m sure. Just as hell feels good to be out there though. You all fully charged?”
“You bet! Ready to smack a few spiders for the squeamish Agrarians. Worse than women, I tell ya…” He checked with his ring: they’d be flying at least thirty minutes or so before reaching their destination. He wanted to kill some time.

“Hey, check it out…I already showed ya my John and Hal flying impressions…see if ya can tell which Justice Leaguer I am!” He balled his left fist and thrust it before him, tucking his right arm into his side, bending he left knee and pointing his toes. To add more humour to the very stolid pose, Guy jutted out his chin exaggeratedly and narrowed his eyes and a determined, grim expression.

“Superman; that’s easy! You’re talking to his number one fan, hermano. Well other than Zee and Billy, I guess….” Kyle flipped onto his back, looking up at Guy as he realized what he was saying, particularly by the squinty-eyed look Guy was giving him. He grinned apologetically. “Lo siento, sorry sorry. You’ll get to —”

“— know it all with time. Yeah yeah,” Guy spoke along with Kyle, nodding. He’d heard Kyle say this a million times before, and only in the space of a few days. Kyle grinned even more, feeling compassion for his friend. Guy was taking all of this with remarkable stride. Kyle was relieved; he really didn’t want to screw this up, considering he’d sort of taken responsibility for taking care of Guy. The last thing Kyle wanted was to get careless, get stupid and end up hurting his friend.

( swarm )

personal identification

[bossymarmalade]

TXT: All geared up for the party on the weekend? If there's anything you need, Guy, don't hesitate to get in touch!! - Ollie

TXT: Actually, yeah. Kyle said you’re in charge of Watchtower security, right?

TXT: I don’t know my passcode to check e-mail and use the Ziti pad and stuff. Whoever was on monitor duty put me through to this dumb as shit tech, who wanted my login ID so he could reset it, and I don’t know THAT either.

TXT: Um, yeah, party should be good, at least with the people I recognize.

TXT: Bureaucracy strikes again!! I’ll make sure to be in my suite on the Tower tomorrow during business hours; drop by and we’ll get you squared away. I’m not a fan of the damn Zeta Tubes either, heh.

TXT: Great, see you then.

Ollie was being pretty friendly for a man Guy had tried to decapitate with a construct clipboard only a few days earlier. Then again, Oliver Queen had been pretty laid back in the past.

Must have been his bleeding Liberal heart.

( rush of blood to the head )

safe 'haven

[bossymarmalade]

It had been a while since Ollie’d visited the ‘Haven (visited it properly, not been dragged there by the Eden Corps, that is). Last time he’d been through here it was with Bruce, the two of them hot on the trail of a white slaver (back when you still said “white slaver” like it made it worse) who’d led them on a not-very-merry chase along the Eastern Seaboard. That Bludhaven had been a growling, snapping, rabid dog of a city that Ollie’d been glad to get away from before it gnawed through his ankle.

The new ‘Haven was more like … a dog that was suspicious of you, but mostly went about its own business. Sniffing hydrants and scratching its ear and burying bones and maaaaaybe this metaphor had taken a wrong turn. Ollie shook it out of his head and went into the little shawarma place he was meeting Dick at, the bell on the door making him more cheery. He ordered a glass of mint tea as he sat down to wait, facing the window.

One good thing about Bludhaven was that his broken nose didn’t get looked at twice.

From Dick's apartment, there were two ways to get anywhere: the safe route or the death route. The safe route went by the police station, went through some of the shiny new built-up areas with their 24-hour security, and had all the bright streetlights after dark. It always added at least fifteen minutes extra to the commute, but it was the “nice” Bludhaven. The second route saved time, but went through some of the worst areas in the ‘Haven, an area no one went through with their wallet and kept it.

So, of course, Dick took the second route.

( falling )

he's just not that into you

[bossymarmalade]

“Cream’s in the fridge. Better sniff it to make sure it ain’t cheese yet,” Guy warns Cass and Dick as he slides the mugs of coffee onto the breakfast bar one at a time.

Dick fetches the cream and the sugar on his trip back to the breakfast bar with the ease of someone who knows how this kitchen is set up. He checks it and pours it into his mug. “Thanks, Guy. Um, sorry for crashing on your couch.”

Guy drinks his black. “No skin off my nose, Nightshift. For future reference, the two rooms at the end of the hall are the guest rooms.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dick nods, “I guess I just forgot since I don’t usually stay—” He looks back down at his coffee and takes a long drink, ignoring the heat scalding his tongue. “Thanks.”

His host watches Dick a few minutes, and makes idle small talk with him, a little relieved that Kyle and Cass are occupying each other with conversation in the living room, but now and then Kyle is glancing over at them, as if monitoring from a distance, and giving Guy significant looks including pointedly looking at Dick. His meaning was clear. “Dick…” Guy finally says, in a quiet meaningful tone, “I think we better have a talk, huh?”

( maybe a happy ending doesn't include a guy )

barmaid

[bossymarmalade]

The best part about working at Warriors was you never knew what was gonna happen.

She’d only been there a few months, and already Bai had seen drunks get disposed of in various creative green light construct fashions, met at least five new superhero types she’d never heard of before, learned how to make both buffalo wings and Bajan food from Kurt, and on one memorable occasion, dealt with a sentient mat-like creature who had hitched a ride back from space with the Lanterns.

It was pretty much the coolest job EVER.

So she had no real reason to expect anything different when she came into work on a Saturday, early enough to do prepwork for the bar and wipe down the tables, late enough that she’d had time to run to Ireland and have a full breakfast or two. It was shaping up to be a good day.

Guy floated down the stairs from their apartment, rather than walking, because walking hurt. Everything hurt. His goddamn eyebrows, the actual hairs, he swore he could feel each and every one, hurt.

( missing parts )

that's what friends are for

[bossymarmalade]

The night after his lunch with Ollie, Dick’s mask of calm and OK-ness started to slip. He hadn’t slept in a full day (not really unusual for him), hadn’t eaten except for when he absolutely had to (admittedly a more usual occurrence than it should be), and barely drank anything (much more unusual for him). He’d been out on the streets as soon as the sun went down and stayed out until it rose again the next morning. During the next day, he forced himself awake and work on cases, leads, tracking information, anything that could keep him occupied and out of his apartment. Every second spent there reminded him of things he and Guy had done; that was over now. For now. For who knows how long now.

That night, he went out and did it all again.

His apartment grew worse and worse. Things were scattered around at random, not going to be picked up anytime soon. Clothes were strewn across the floor, clean mixed with dirty, half inside-out or folded. He didn’t care. The last time he’d cleaned, he’d found too many memories flooding in, too many things to think about. It wasn’t like Guy was dead, but dammit, that almost made it worse, knowing that Dick could see him every single day and never be wanted.

Two days later, he flopped into his apartment at six a.m. with a sprained wrist and a twisted knee so swollen he almost couldn’t walk on it. Laid up in bed, he’d have no way of avoiding his thoughts, of keeping that sadness at bay. So he did the next best thing. Dick Grayson may not have been much of a drinker, but he knew where all his liquor was kept and by god, could he drink it when he wanted to.

Four hours later, he was curled up in bed, passed out from the exhaustion of crying and his booze binge.

Bette gave up knocking and phoning his cell from the corridor. He wasn’t answering even his League communicator. Who was she kidding, he hadn’t answered anyone she knew of in at least the last three days, why did she expect it to be any different now?

( keep smiling keep shining )

more like a green christmas

[bossymarmalade]

[Ring Text] Hey, Guy. Just heading back in from outer sector. Mind if I drop by? We’ll say it still counts as Christmas.

Guy glanced at the clock. 8:30pm, sure it counted. He’d pulled standby duty Christmas Day, and had just gotten off shift just two hours earlier. The bar was closed, so he picked up Chinese take out and had been relaxing at Casa Verde after a long day doing tornado response in Alabama.
[Ring Txt] Yeah, sure John. C’mon over.

John landed on the roof of Warriors, a hastily-but-neatly-wrapped box of six Westvleteren beers under his arm. He wasn’t sure how Guy was feeling with Christmas falling right as he was trying to create new memories with old friends that had been forgotten, but John was sure that a few bottles of purportedly the world’s best beer should help cheer Guy up, however he was feeling.

“Merry Christmas, Guy,” he called as he came down the stairs. He set the box on the coffee table and planted himself on the couch next to Guy. ”No rest for the Lanterns.”

( the ones i used to know )

cats in the coffee and mice in the tea

[bossymarmalade]

Her evidence was all carefully contained in a plastic folder with a bright orange zipper running around the edge. It seemed important to have a folder and not have the papers clutched in her hand for the telling.

Setting her mouth, Helen Jordan marched briskly into one of the smaller lounge rooms of the Watchtower, one she knew that Damian and Billy frequented because it had a snack dispenser that malfunctioned all the time and would cheerily spit out bottles of chocolate milk when you asked for granola or interpret a request for yogurt as sour gummies. The boys were in there, sure enough, sitting back-to-back for no apparent reason as Billy stacked pennies and nickels as though his life depended on it and Damian idly flicked through a slideshow of hunting knives on his tablet.

Boys were weird sometimes.

Helen came over to the boys, who looked up at her, Billy with an open-mouthed smile and Damian with a quirk of the eyebrow. “There is a crime happening in Coast City,” Helen announced, somewhat breathless from excitement. She held up her zip folder, then opened it with a swift, dramatic movement and fanned out the sheaf of papers from inside.

“All of these are Lost or Found Cat posters,” she told the boys. “All with different pictures of cats, but the same phone number to call for the reward. And a bunch of them are named Dinah for some reason.” Helen could see that her pitch was dropping without a catch, so she hurriedly elaborated, “Twenty-three cats. And some of them I think aren’t even real cats. Look, this one looks like the one that has the video where she says ‘no no no’ all the time.”

The boys exchanged a skeptical look, and Helen stomped. “Don’t you get it? They want people to call in about cats, all to this same number! So then they can find out what people in Coast City are concerned about cats or have cats, and then they can come get them! They’re cat *kidnappers*!”

( when the feast's over )

auld acquaintance

[bossymarmalade]

“Okay, give that a try,” she suggested as she finished adjusting the tension on the exercise machine in the Watchtower gym, and added a warning, “And don’t try to be a hero, at the first sign of pain, you let me know, Dick.” Bette watched him intently as he completed three knee flexions in one smooth, controlled motion. His physiotherapy was coming along well, and that was a great sign. Physically, he was making a great recovery. Emotionally…

“Looks good. Feel okay at that setting, or shall I put it up one?”

“Oh, it’s fine here!” Dick answered immediately. “You can put it up…one….” He trailed off at her questioning look and smiled sheepishly. “OK, maybe I can keep it here for a bit to make sure it’s solid here.”

It was nice to feel like he could do something again, even more so with someone who didn’t seem to be walking on eggshells with him. It wasn’t like he couldn’t take care of himself, he just… sometimes forgot to do it. Repeatedly. Even when he really, really should.

He did three more sets before he really did feel he could move it up a setting. His knee was feeling better every day; those early days when Bette had insisted he rest had done him wonders. It had kind of reminded him of his parents when, at the first sign of actual injury, they sat you out until it healed. ‘Rest down here,’ his dad had said, ‘so you don’t hurt something up there.’ Dick had forgotten about that as Robin, always trying so hard to be as perfect and invulnerable as Bruce seemed to be.

( cleaned and spit-polished )

drink till you think

[bossymarmalade]

flylikearobin said: [TEXT] Well, I know I said I’d buy the drinks, but how about if I just pour them? Watchtower? At least we’ll have beds if we’re too drunk to walk!

TXT: Be there in fifteen, kiddo - Ollie
That was unexpected. Ollie frankly hadn’t expected to hear from Dick again in quite a while, and the prospect of getting to see Dick again so soon — with something he wanted to talk about, no less — was intriguing and exciting and hopeful.

He zipped up to the Tower as soon as he could, heading to the quiet little alcove that Dick had indicated in the message he’d left with the transport techs for Ollie. “Hey hey, Grayson,” Ollie said, coming over with his arms out already for a hug. “Is this gonna be drowning-woes drunk, or clear-eyed-epiphanies drunk?”

Dick smiled, pulling Ollie into a big hug. ”How about eventually-blurry-eyed-epiphanies drunk?” He smiled shyly. ”Maybe they’ll get clearer as the night goes along, hey?”

He stepped back and gestured broadly at the assortment of bottles and glasses lined up for them. ”I, uh, made sure to be prepared. Can I make you anything? Or, uh, get you anything?”

“An old fashioned would be great,” Ollie said, “with rye, and you can leave out the fruit salad part of it.” He settled himself on one of the long padded benches that were the available seating, disinclined to hover while Dick got them drinks. “This is a neat little cubbyhole you found here!” he declared, spreading his arms out along the back of the bench. “I didn’t even know this existed. I wonder if the whole Tower’s studded with ‘em? That would be something, huh? Everybody got their own secret, favourite hidey spot.”

He accepted his glass from Dick and sampled it, leaning his head back and closing his eyes in pleasure. “Good stuff,” Ollie said, lifting the glass in Dick’s direction before taking a more healthy gulp. “Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about, bluebird?"

( and back around again )

sweets for my sweet

[bossymarmalade]

Cass woke up to her early afternoon alarm with a groan, but her distain for the sunlight filtering into her bedroom didn’t last too long. Today was the day she had plans set with her best friend in the entire world, Stephanie Brown. Cass channeled her enthusiasm over her day’s plans while preparing an overnight bag and getting dressed for the day.

Ordinarily, Cass didn’t think twice about outfits she chose for her days. Her favorite clothing was basic with a few patterns here and there, but she never wore any true eye catching outfits (excluding her few pieces of formalwear for Wayne family events). But today was going to be a special event, wasn’t it? Why not try wearing something that would stand out, at least a little. Cass decided on the dress that Steph had gifted her for Christmas, outfitting it so it would be warmer for the chilly weather in Gotham currently. Looking at herself in the mirror she thought to herself she looked even better now than she had on some of her dates with- “Don’t think about that.” she scolded herself, opting out of wearing the new dress and slipping into a familiar outfit instead.

“It’s just Steph.” she reminded herself as she adjusted her hair in the mirror once more, “You don’t have to do anything special…right.” Once ready, she grabbed her bag and headed over to Steph’s place first, quickly scoping out the cupcake shop on the way there. The sweets lined the front window, and she could already spot at least four different flavors that would interest the Batgirls. Buzzing up to Steph’s apartment Cass called, “Guess who! Ready for some sugar?”

( really need it to get by )

the future

[bossymarmalade]

J’onn J’onzz had seen many adventures in his life, taken on many tasks, many challenges. His travels had taken him all the galaxy and beyond. J’onn had made many friends… and lost much through his years - some would say too much to keep doing what he was doing.

And that was exactly what he was contemplating as he served his shift on Monitor Duty. The Martian Manhunter was splitting his attention. He was keeping up with Aquaman’s actions in the South Pacific while watching Power Girl and Plastic Man wrap up an attempted kidnapping in Hong Kong. But those actions were merely in the back of his mind. His most active thoughts, his most compelling thoughts were of his future. J’onn, after all his years of service, after all his years of teamwork, after all he had given to both his native Mars and his adopted home world Earth, was thinking of retirement. He was thinking of giving it all up, walking away. He certainly deserved it. He had certainly earned his rest, his reward.

But leaving the League is not an easy decision to make - and he did not want to make it rashly. So while he considered his, wait, excuse me. “Plastic Man, you need only turn the kidnappers over to the local authorities now. Any extra humiliation of them is unnecessary. Please return the gentleman’s pants. Power Girl can handle speaking to the local police.” So while he considered his options, J’onn was hoping to speak to another teammate - maybe a long time member, maybe a new and still idealistic member, it made no difference. He just needed someone to listen to him, to assure him that he was making the right decision…

( and it will be )