Sometimes A Family Can Be

when there are only straights on the fandom and you have no one to share the LGBTQ+ content with

Just something I really want to share on here because it’s important.

Part 3/7 - Previous / Next / First

Track: ‘Soldiers’ - Otherwise

Wolffe didn’t understand what was happening when Plo Koon was suddenly handing him his lightsaber. And he still couldn’t quite put the pieces together when he noticed Cody go flying through the air under Padawan Tano’s guiding force. But he definitely understood the tightness of fear in his chest when Rex and Cody ran directly at the Sith Lord who had just beaten one of the strongest Jedi he knew to exist.

“Son,” Plo Koon's voice cut through Wolffe's fear, a sense of calm in his storm, and dragged Wolffe back to the Kel Dor and his offered saber. “Your family needs you.”

Wolffe's world shifted to an odd halt as he considered what was happening. Thoughts that haunted him flooded through him, bit at the edges of his mind with doubt. What was he going to do? What could he ever do?

Wolffe has felt useless before, has lost everything in an instant. He has watched his brothers die often enough to wade constantly in hopelessness. And he remembers fruitlessly hugging his brothers close when they were all just cadets, wishing for an option other than the trials for war. There were so many times Wolffe, the supposed strong and intimidating commander he was, had only felt pointless and worthless. So many times he had cried to the galaxy to give them all something to hope for, something to make all the pain worth it.

And yet, Wolffe realized in a bright instant, he always had it. In his stillness he remembered how Plo Koon called him son, and meant it as much as Wolffe did calling Plo his Buir. How after each battle he would come back to the 104th and be greeted with just as much warmth from his brothers as respect, finding strength in each other. That at the end of the day, it was his family that had always kept him fighting, striving to stay hopeful and survive. It always had been and always will be his family that makes this life worth living, and he would do anything and everything to keep it that way.

Wolffe locked eyes with Plo Koon for a moment just long enough to convey everything he knew the Jedi could already see clearly. And as the world came crashing back to him he took the saber without an ounce of hesitation. 

you know that catco employees are already groaning whenever Kara walks into the office with a new hairstyle or a new outfit bc they know they're going have to put up with their boss staring like she's never seen a woman before

Kara Danvers is, objectively speaking, an incredibly worthy object of one’s workplace crush.

Most of CatCo’s employees will readily admit that they’ve all been there: Kara Danvers is lovely and kind, she has the nicest laugh, she’s practically sunshine personified. She remembers people’s birthdays, brings them coffee unasked, and attempts to temper Cat Grant’s wrath whenever it threatens to strike. Even when she gets bumped to junior reporter, she’s still the same charming goofball, only she now rushes in and out of the building chasing stories  with a vengeance instead of lattes. Who could ever resist a crush on her?

Most of CatCo’s employees, however, will also hasten to point out that they could at least keep their infatuation to a reasonable level.

When Lena Luthor first walks into the CatCo bullpen, heading towards Kara without sparing a look for anyone else, the bullpen falls so deadly silent for a second, the clicking of her Louboutins is the only sound that can be heard. Then they all go back to acting totally, extremely normal, as if the most notorious new citizen of National City (a billionaire tech genius at that) isn’t flirting up a storm with a cub reporter right before their very eyes. They only snicker about the gala invitation in a very restrained way, with the appropriate amount of concern and jealousy, Luthor sure knows what connections she needs, Danvers better look out and You’d be trying to make that connection too if you were in her position.

Then the visits become a regular occurrence. 

Lena Luthor, CEO of a Fortune 500 company and a staple of 30 under 30 lists, shows up every week, and patiently waits around till Kara, who earnestly says golly and has to be reminded that exclusive is spelled without a ‘k’, stumbles across her. She beams at Kara’s rambling, laughs delightedly at her bad puns, calls her darling in a tone of voice that makes eavesdroppers blush, and bites her lip like she knows exactly what it is that she’d like to devour, and it’s certainly not the vegan bar that she’s dragging Kara away to for lunch. (CatCo refuses to publish the paparazzi shots that surface every third day of the week, but other outlets are not so squeamish.) And Kara meets her every step of the way, face lighting up whenever she sees Lena (even on TV, some note), hugging her tightly with every hello and goodbye even longer than necessary. She gushes about Lena’s projects and meets Lena’s own compliments to her writing with bashful smiles and fidgeting hands. Properly and utterly enamored.

The office settles into the new status quo, young love and all, though it seems to be incredibly slow-burning, with the entirety of CatCo (and likely half of L-Corp) getting front-row tickets to its process. Snapper mumbles about professional boundaries. People start a betting pool, and stare at Kara with a bit more hopeless yearning when she storms past them to greet Lena with a wide smile.

But then, there’s something else that changes with their courtship: Kara starts to get dapper.

She’s already looked unreasonably dashing in thin cardigans and pastel button-ups before, drawing dreamy sighs from the interns she’d stroll past. Now, it’s starting to verge on it’s a public menace to look that hot. The shirts get tighter, more crisp, and with it, her biceps and powerful shoulders considerably more accentuated. Well-tailored jackets start to make an appearance in her wardrobe, along with slim ties (their quirky patterns a testament to Kara’s nature), and elegantly knit jumpers come winter. And Kara starts to stand a little taller, too, shoulders squared and chin held high, her steps ever so slightly wider and more confident every time she has to chase after Snapper in one of their daily bouts.

The effect of it in the office is most profound. A rolled-up shirtsleeve and a hint of tensing muscles, and Jen at the art department almost scraps a magazine cover in her stupor. An unbuttoned collar and loosened tie at a late night editorial meeting, and Mackenzie nearly pours her coffee into her lap. 

And the very cause of this upheaval is certainly not immune to Kara’s newfound charms, either. There’s already been plenty of physical affection between the pair, as most of the office and a whole wealth of pap photos would attest, but now, it’s bordering on handsiness. Lena takes any opportunity to squeeze Kara’s arm, run a hand over her shoulder, or rest a hand on her forearm as they talk, and the bullpen grows green with jealousy.

When Cat Grant departs for the White House and L-Corp swoops in for the acquisition, the mood turns explosive.

Any illusions about the lovebirds keeping things more strictly professional with the change of management are shattered when Kara strides into the boss’ office with a gift-wrapped planner, all giddy, only to be greeted with their usual hug. Someone lets out a groan.

It only gets expectably worse.

It’s no fault of Lena Luthor’s overall management style – she’s a decent boss, a shockingly good one, even, if one considers the family name and all its implications, and infinitely milder than Miss Grant had been. But there’s only so many times one can witness their chief blushing in the middle of a meeting, or get lost in impure thought staring through the glass walls of the boardroom, out into the bullpen where the office heartthrob is currently stretching, providing an ample view of her entire upper body musculature. There’s only so many times they can watch Lena lean against Kara’s desk and reach down to gently smooth out her shirt’s collar or fiddle with the lapels of her jacket as they talk. At some point, Lena helping Kara tie the bespoke silk tie that she’s recently gifted her after a trip to Italy, batting away her “Lena, you really shouldn’t have” with “Nonsense, darling” and then stopping to fiddle with the damn thing, staring up at Kara with that unmistakably smitten expression becomes just another Tuesday morning at CatCo.

To say that there is a sigh of relief once news of CatCo once again changing hands start to spread is no understatement.

Andrea Rojas seems like a hardass and people start to feel a sense of comfort. She’s a businesswoman through and through, one whose ideas about running the place might be battled, but one who certainly won’t be head over heels for a pair of pretty blue eyes and jacked arms.

Antsiness and relief thus both settle over the first office-wide meeting Ms Rojas calls, preparing to address the entire staff. The first couple of sentences are delivered smoothly, with none of the longing looks cast into the crowd towards a certain blonde that they’ve had to get used to before, and people are starting to feel safe.

Then, getting to the meat of her speech, Andrea Rojas takes a breath and turns towards where the cream of CatCo’s crop is gathered, with Kara Danvers standing at the very front, arms crossed, navy suit hugging her imposing figure tightly, forehead crinkled in annoyed concentration.

Andrea Rojas looks, then looks again, and skids to a halt, lips parting as she takes in the view. Twelve seconds go by, an agonizing eternity, before she’d continue her speech, her gaze returning to Kara again and again.

“If you have any questions about the future of CatCo, I’d be happy to hear them now,” she finishes. “Or in my office, if you’d prefer to sound your concerns in private.”

She looks around, almost haughty before she’d turn her gaze to Kara again, biting her lip as they lock eyes, and someone in the back finally decides to give voice to what they’re all feeling:

"Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

Harry Potter and Pinterest at 1:30 in the morning had me laughing like a lunatic. After sleeping, this is still funny.

reblog if you’ve read fanfictions that are more professional, better written than some actual novels. I’m trying to see something

Lena: Up until I was 25, I thought the only response to “I love you” was “oh crap.”

For Trimberly, prompt list 9, prompt 9, "this isn't my safe space, you are"

Trini sat sideways in the pterodactyl zord seat with Kim stretched out across her in her lap. She wove tight arms around her girlfriend and kissed her forehead softly.

The fight had been terrible. Watching Kim's zord spin down in a fiery blaze when Trini could do nothing but push forward and keep fighting. In the back of her mind, Trini knew Kim would be okay. The zord would protect Kim and keep her safe. But the flames had been huge, red, orange...and pink.

Trini sighed and pressed her face into Kim's neck and held her tighter. She heard Kim's breath hitch and ran her fingers through Kim's hair. "Feeling better yet, Princess?"

"I don't know," Kim murmured. "It's like...I was back there. In our first fight. When we were-" She sucked her lips in.

"The fire," Trini said. She understood. She had the same flashback. The heat, the inability to move, the knowledge of your imminent death... "I've got you, baby, I've got you. You're not there anymore."

"I know," Kim murmured.

"Alpha updated the zords to be more fire-retardent. You were covered in flames, but...you weren't gonna burn."

"I know."

"Yeah, you know, but are you hearing me?" She pressed her lips to Kim's temple. "You're safe. You're safe here. Our zords love us, they protect us...they're our safe space."

Kim curled up more and leaned into Trini's arm. "No," she whispered.

"No?"

"This isn't my safe space, Trin. You are."

"Oh, Kim." Trini held Kim's face in her palm and made Kim look up at her. "You're mine, too. You have been from the moment we met." Kim looked back at Trini with damp, blinking eyes.

"I am?"

"You don't know that by now?" Trini smiled slowly. "I only feel like the real me when I'm with you. When I talk to you. When I text you. We've been Rangers, what, four and a half years now? That's four and a half years of feeling the safest I've ever felt."

"Me too," Kim whispered.

Trini's hand moved and her fingers ran the scope of Kim's jaw and to her chin, which she lifted up and leaned down to kiss her lips. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Kim said, initiating a longer kiss. They broke, mouths still parted, and sighed into one another. "I like being in here with you. It's the most peace I've ever felt."

"We can stay here as long as you need."

"Just keep holding me," Kim said softly. "And keep kissing me."

"My pleasure," Trini said, a smile on her face as she took Kim's lips with her own again.