Harry disappears from the wizarding world for a little while after the fall of Voldemort and only like Ron Hermione and Ginny know where he’s gone
but he’s traveling. he considered backpacking Europe, but then he realized he’d had enough of camping for at least twenty years, so he teaches himself to drive and pulls enough strings to get himself an American drivers’ license and and then he’s off on a roadtrip in a beat-up car that’s still fast as anything. he doesn’t use magic if he can help it because it feels tainted, feels like it belongs to the war, feels like it marks him out again as someone with power and responsibility and the weight of a world on his shoulders. and for now he wants to find out what it is not to be a world-saving wizard, but just to be Harry.
and he meets a lot of strangers (he figures it’s safe enough picking up hitchhikers when they’re more than likely muggles and he’s got his wand if anything bad happens) and he learns what it’s like to be just another face, another car on the road and he learns all sorts of stuff on the radio, tries every genre out there. and it’s nice to listen to stuff that isn’t specifically designed to remind him of the wizarding world, but he finds so much of it surprisingly relatable and sometimes he just breaks down sobbing at the wheel and has to pull over.
and one of the hitchhikers he picks up is a veteran, and Harry doesn’t tell him much but he does say that he’s been a soldier, too, and it’s hard adjusting to a life that you never thought would exist because things were so hard that you could not imagine yourself after. hard to think about settling down and marrying the girl you thought you’d die loving. hard to think that not everyone around you is an enemy. were you a prisoner of war? the veteran asks. or undercover? both, says Harry. and lost, not knowing whether I was on the run or on a mission that was taking a year. I got back alive in the end but something—something’s definitely dead, you know?
how old are you, says the veteran. I’m eighteen, says Harry. the veteran raises his eyebrows. but they both know that some armies, some wars, don’t care about your age.
I think the dead thing is me, Harry says one day, when he’s going seventy in a fifty-five mile zone and the sun is setting in their eyes. when I killed the enemy, I killed myself.
and the veteran looks at him for a very long moment and Harry slows down and looks back at him and at last the man says, no. no, you lived. and you’re going to keep living, son, and one day you’ll be ready to marry that girl, if you love her, and now that you’ve got out of the war, it’s time to get the war out of you.
(they almost have a wreck when Harry pulls over to the side of the road, gets out, sits in the grass and laughs through his tears. flowers start to spring up around him and he feels the magic in his core, but this time it’s peaceful and pure and fun. unspoiled. and he knows it won’t always feel this way but for now things are leaking out of him, joyful things, because he is the boy who lived again, the boy who lived after the war.)
How is this not canon
Tag: fanfic
between you and me – Kara/Alex ficlet
Winn’s going to the future.
So I wrote a thing.
—
between you and me
—
“Come on,” Kara whines, bouncing and tugging on Winn’s arm like petulance will absolutely work this time. “Just tell me one thing and I’ll stop asking.”
“No,” he says patiently, fingers not missing a beat over the keyboard, despite the jostling. “You will find out eventually; you just have to be patient.”
She huffs and flops down in the chair beside him. “But I don’t wanna wait; I wanna know my future now!” She stomps her feet and pouts. “Come on, just tell me one—”
“No!” he laughs and looks at her. “I promise it’s good. You’re gonna love it. But you have to wait for it.”
She grumbles, and sighs. “Fine. Then tell me something about Alex’s future.”
His smile drops and he turns immediately back to the computer. “Oh no. No, no. Telling you the future is a bad idea; telling Alex? Suicide.”
“But you’re not telling Alex her future,” Kara reasons, scooting her chair right up against his. “You’re telling me. Therefore; not suicide.”
“One—” He sends her a glance. “You can’t keep a secret from her to save your life. Two, you can’t keep a secret from her to save my life. So no. No Alex-future either.”
“Then I won’t tell her til after you leave. By the time you get back, she’ll have forgotten all about it.”
Winn scoffs, sending her a look. “Please. That woman has a memory like a steel trap. You know how often she just suddenly hits me for doing things I don’t even remember doing? Like telling you she was the one that broke your creepy horse statue.” He turns toward her sharply. “Which, okay; was that me? Cause I didn’t even know it was broken ‘til she accused me, but she swears up and down I—”
“She did what?” Kara’s face falls to confusion laced betrayal. “But…when? Wait…” Kara pauses, thinking. “Wait. No, yeah, when could this have happened, cause it was fine when I left for work, like, four hours ago.”
Winn freezes, eyes flicking away. “Uh…” Then his eyes slip a little wide. “Oh my god…” He looks back at her, shell-shocked. “I did tell you.” He slumps back. “Damn it, she was right.”
Kara narrows her eyes. “How is this conversation happening in the past tense when my horse statue is intact at this very moment in time?”
Winn stiffens, eyes, once again, going wide, before he turns away, face burning red, eyes back on his computer screen. “No reason. I was mistaken. That was a complete misspoken misha—ahh!”
Kara snatches him out of the chair, frog-marching him up and away from any prying ears, before pushing him into a wall.
“That is Alex behavior,” he wails. “You’re supposed to be better than that! You’re supposed to be the nice—”
She cuts him off with a sharp finger in his face. “You have two seconds to tell me Alex isn’t still alive four-hundred years from now.”
“Alex isn’t still alive four-hundred years from now,” he dutifully squeaks.
She glares. “Are you lying?”
He withers. “Yes? I mean, no! No? No, no.” He shakes his head. “No, definitely not lying,” he lies. Obviously.
Kara stares him down, then blinks.
Then begins thinking.
And thinking.
Then she turns sharp eyes back to him. “Winn.”
He gulps. “Yeah?”
She clicks her tongue, hesitating. “I’m gonna ask you a question.”
He winces. “I really wish you wouldn’t.”
“I’m gonna ask you a question, and I need you to tell me the truth.”
He sighs, resigned, and nods.
Kara licks her lips, afraid to ask, afraid to know, afraid she’s wrong. But she asks. “Do Alex and I…are we…cause there’s only so many ways she could possibly survive and theoretically, soul-bonding with a Kryptonian would…” She lets out a shaky breath and turns away, fighting tears, before looking back at him. “Do I…I mean do I get…is she mine?”
His face softens and he steps forward, pulling her into a tight hug while she shudders through a sob.
He turns his head, lips next to her ear, and whispers, “Don’t tell her I told you; she really likes telling everyone how surprised you were when she finally kissed you.”
—
fin
—
Thoughts?
Alex has been working herself half to death. Lucy finds a program where you can go in and pet future service puppies (to help socialize them but like). Alex learns that heaven is a place on earth when 16 puppies are involved.
charcharcat said:
May 16th 2017, 3:02:00 pm · a year ago
I feel like I should elaborate that the prompt I sent would be
best with some Maggie thrown in the mix for maximum teasing
“Danvers?” Lucy asked, looking up from her never ending pile of paperwork.
“Lane.”
“Can I help you?” Concern drifted into her tone. Alex’s shoulders drooped, her crossed arms missing their usual intimidation. She looked completely worn out.
It was Tuesday. Lucy almost forgot that Tuesday was Alex’s mandated therapy day.
“Shrink gave me homework.”
“Oh… kay?”
Alex sighed and rolled her eyes. “What’s the field policy for agents with service dogs?”
“Depends on the dog’s training and the agent’s role, Danvers.” Lucy put her pen down and sat back in her chair. She motioned for her fidgety agent to sit. “We’re ADA compliant, of course. But there’s only so much we can do to promise the safety and security of agents and their dogs.”
Instead of sitting, Alex gripped at the back of the chair. Her fingers pressed so tightly they were turning white, and she wouldn’t meet Lucy’s eyes.
“Alex?”
“If the agent did what I do? Would- could- would I be able to go into the field?”
“Alex.” Lucy sighed. She dragged her hand across her face and rubbed at her eyes. “It depends on the diagnosis. And the dog.”
15 year old Alex Danvers, hiding in the school bathroom with her little sister helping her wipe off mud and grit. Kara had a small panic attack when the fire alarm went off and ended up face first in a fresh puddle. Everyone laughed at her (everyone always laughs at her) but Alex threatened to start breaking bones if they didn’t shut up and she was able to get Kara on her feet and moving. Kara clung to her, and Alex couldn’t help but snap at her a bit in annoyance for getting mud on her shirt. This of course just makes Kara cry harder and Alex has to close her eyes and count to 10 to calm down. When the alarm stopped Alex dragged her sister in ahead of the slow moving shuffle and locked them away in the bathroom to scrub her off.
Alex skipping softball to take her sister for ice cream because she’s still a little weepy and Mom will kill her if she brings her home like this. Kara insists on holding hands – which Alex /hates/ – but sensory things are weird for her in moments like this so Alex lets her do it anyway. By the time Kara finishes her third cone she’s no longer so affected, and they can finally go home.
The house is dark when they get there, though her mom is home. She keeps it dark a lot these days. Ever since her dad died, Mom has felt more like a shell than a person. She’s staring our the window unseeing; a part of Alex thinks she’s still waiting for Dad’s car to pull into the driveway. She doesn’t notice they’re there until Kara gently grabs her arm.
Eliza jolts like she’s been shocked, whipping to look at them. she looks so confused for an uncomfortable amount of time before smiling vacantly at Kara, only to frown when she sees the long dried mud.
Kara explains, Eliza hugs her and says it’s okay and for her to go upstairs. Alex feels that deep drip of dread creep down her spine.
“How could you let this happen, Alexandra?”
“It’s not like I can control a fire drill, Mom!”
But Eliza doesn’t listen, shakes her head,
“You are the only one she has protecting her when she’s at school. You have to do a better job! She needs you!”
Alex wants to say that she needs someone, too, but she knows that’s not the right answer. So she just nods and stomps over to the stairs. She looks back at her mother only to find she’s back to staring vacantly out the window again.
This does such a brilliant job of back-engineering Alex and Eliza’s personalities and relationship. It seems so simple on the surface but this entire scene speaks to and informs so much of the subtle complexities of both women.
Performer AU and Hair brushing/braiding – any ship you feel like writing but you know I’m nudging for Supercat or Swan Queen if you feel it.
So I ended up writing a fic because of course I did. I may also have a Swan Queen version started too. Oops?
But here’s SuperCat! Performer AU = Broadway AU in this particular instance.
**
“Why is it that you show up to the stage door every night looking like a homeless person? Are you a homeless person?”
Kara startles at the sound of someone at the dressing room door and spins around to catch sight of Cat, standing there staring her down. “M-miss Grant!” She squeaks in surprise, not even catching what Cat has said. She is the last one in the dressing room, everyone else having already headed out.
Cat’s eyes move over Kara’s body, taking in the beat up old Converse shoes, the leggings, the hoodie that dwarfs Kara’s frame, and the beanie shoved onto her head. “My god, you really do look like you’re homeless. Honestly, Kiera, what is that outfit?”
“Uh, it’s actually Kara, Miss Grant. And um, I don’t know what –“
Cat sighs, as though this discussion that she started is the biggest waste of her precious time. “How do you expect anyone at stage door to recognize you, let alone want to take a photo with you when you leave looking like that?”
“Oh.” Kara glances down at herself and then back at Cat, immaculately dressed with her hair somehow looking perfect despite the wig she wears in the show and her stage make up removed and replaced with perfect contouring and shading. Kara thinks that she could understand why some people hate the self-proclaimed Queen of Broadway if she wasn’t so damn amazed by her. “I – I’m not someone people really want to see at the stage door, Miss Grant. I mean, everyone is there to see you so –“
“And no one will ever be there to see you if you don’t start acting like you’re a star. I see what you do on that stage every night, Kiera. You have real talent. But you’re never going to go anywhere if you don’t start acting like you know it. So buck up and for god’s sake, start dressing better.”
With that, Cat is gone in a whirl of perfume and Kara can only stare after her. “Yes, Miss Grant.”
Garata
“This is a soccer ball,” Alex explains as she holds said object.
She drops it to the ground and gently kicks it in Kara’s direction.
Kara looks at it blankly before returning her gaze to Alex.
Alex explains the basic premise of the game while demonstrating the appropriate amount of strength to put behind her kicks. She doesn’t care too much if Kara doesn’t pick up all the rules. There are plenty of Earthlings who don’t know them. It would be a problem if Kara shows up to PE and kicks a soccer ball across state lines though, so Alex focuses on the biomechanics.
“Oh,” Kara says as she becomes more familiar with the game. “So it’s like garata but without—” She pauses with a frowny face that Alex now recognizes to mean she needs a moment to transition between Kryptonian and Earthling cultures. “—what would you consider them… dragons?”
Kara looks up at Alex as if Alex has the knowledge to
confirm that dragons are indeed the creatures she’s thinking of.
In that moment, Alex’s life is a movie, and the director has freeze framed this moment with a record scratch.
When her biopic resumes, Alex voices the first thought that comes to mind:
“You had dragons on your planet, and you’re impressed by birds?!”
Her second thought is that she needs to know everything about these dragons.
The topic of sports is not touched upon for the rest of the day.
I have too many unfinished fics and ficlets to write this myself but the idea won’t let me go:
Kara is being very lax with her secret identity this season. Half of the Mars Bar seems to know who she is, and she basically never goes into CatCo anymore. She’s using Supergirl as a source. For someone who wants to put the pieces together, it’s probably pretty easy.
Cat, of course, has already put those pieces together and then put them away. So when the news breaks – unexpectedly, first on Twitter and then the trashy news sites before the legit news organizations start to get their acts together and make the connections – she’s as shocked as Kara, who is swiftly taken to the DEO and put on lockdown, along with Eliza and Alex. Within hours James, Winn, Kara’s next door neighbor, and basically everyone who has ever worked at CatCo are being hounded for quotes and reactions.
This, of course, includes Cat Grant. How, everyone asks, did the Queen of All Media not realize that her very own assistant was the same hero that she had branded so publicly? How could she have been scooped in such a way? Was she furious? Embarrassed? How easily had Kara fooled her?
And then they start to wonder. Had she been fooled, or had she known all along? If so, what else did she know that she wasn’t sharing with the public? How could anyone trust her when, as far as the public is concerned, she’d either missed the biggest story of her life when it was right under her nose, or saw it and kept it hidden? Why would she do that? Just what was her relationship with Kara Danvers?
All this time, Cat thought that Kara didn’t trust her. Now she’s realizing how wrong she was. Now, Kara is the only one who trusts her.
Cat
called it a hut in her email. Judging by the size there are at least
three bedrooms, room for a couple of dozen guests – and an underground fibre
optic line Kara sees as she habitually scans the building. This must be
one of the hideouts Cat has that even Kara didn’t know about.She comes
in smoothly, skimming over the snowy ground to land directly on the
porch. Cat is waiting for her in the doorway. Kara’s not really
surprised to see that she is beautifully put together, even here in
self-imposed sort-of-exile. One of the things Cat tried to teach her was
the value of appearances, not out of vanity but as a tool and a shield.
Or a weapon. Kara has been learning a lot about that recently. Like
a lot of things in her life understanding came too late to be helpful.“Hello
Kara.”“Cat.”
“Come
in.”Kara
follows Cat inside, feeling awkward. There’s so much she wants to say,
and she has no idea where to start. Well, there’s one thing she knows she
has to say, and wants to say.“Cat,
I’m sorry.”No one
sighs as evocatively as Cat Grant.“I’m
sure you are, Kara. I’m sure you are.”Kara’s
not sure she’s ever heard Cat sound so defeated. She’s seen this woman
hurt. She’s seen her sad. Regretful. Angry, scared and desperate.
She’s never seen her seemingly ready to give up.She
doesn’t know how to deal with that.“Coffee?
Tea? I have one of those pod machine things here – it even makes those
terrible pumpkin spice latte things you like.”“Coffee
sounds, fine, I guess?”The rote
offer of hospitality is surreal. Are they really going to stand around sipping
drinks and making small talk like nothing has happened?“So,”
Cat starts, when it becomes obvious that Kara is too tongue tied to continue,
“what did you want to talk about?”Kara’s not sure Cat’s ever been this obtuse with her. She deserves it.
“Cat,
I am sorry. I am so, so sorry, you have no idea.”“You
said that. And I think I have some idea.
Of how sorry you are.”Kara
cringes. Cat probably does have some
idea. There’s a reason she’s secluded
herself and Carter in a lodge that’s a couple of hours drive from the nearest
trace of civilisation (and a good deal farther from any major population
centre).The same
reason she stepped down as White House Press Secretary four days ago.
Closet
Director Sanvers, Lucy-centric
Found a prompt chart for Pride Month and figured I’d try my hand at it. I’m a day behind because life. Parings are random.
@bathtimefunduck it’s tomorrow in DC.
It was Lucy’s first year at West Point when Kate Kane was removed from the Academy. She had watched from her quarters as the redhead was escorted from the grounds, flanked by two MPs. At first, no one could understand why Kate had left. Then the truth hit the barracks in a hushed whisper: Kate Kane was a lesbian, and instead of denying it, she had chosen to uphold the Honor Code. Kate’s dismissal terrified Lucy. She was bisexual. If the brass kicked out the their First Captain just for being gay, what would they do to her? And so, following Kate’s departure, Lucy dove so far into the closet that she wasn’t sure she would ever come back out, even if she managed to graduate.
2+16 if you would. For Supercat :) thanks
2. Oh my god you’re in love with her.
16.
You came back.“So, Kara,” Lucy asks one night when she, Kara,
Alex and Maggie are crammed into a booth at Noonan’s for one of their girl’s
nights – relocated there from the alien bar after Kara had had to finish work
late – a wicked glint in her eye. “When are you finally gonna tell us who your
mystery woman is?”Kara rolls her eyes, because gets asked this
question from one of the three at least once
a day – it drives them mad to know that she’s seeing someone, but won’t tell
them who it is.And she has her reasons for that. Mainly because
she’s enjoying having her girlfriend all to herself, but partly because she’s a
little wary of their reactions when she tells them she’s dating her former boss
– Alex, especially, considering how much she knows of her and Cat’s history.“I don’t know, Luce,” Kara answers, resting her
chin in the palm of her hand and meeting her friend’s gaze. “Maybe when you
stop asking me about it? So probably never.”
Question of Smoke 