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schrijverr · 4 months

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We’re Adopted?!?

When Bruce’s kids end up on the Watchtower due to a set of unforeseen circumstances, Jason first tries to get the League to believe that they’re all biologically related to Bruce. He tries to avoid having Jason give everyone a sex talk by reminding him that he’s adopted. This leads to all his kids pretending that this is the first time they’ve heard of it, much to the horror of the League and the exasperation of Bruce.

Based on this post.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~

It finally happened. After years of successfully keeping the League from finding out about all the kids he has, they’ve finally met. And in the most dramatic way too. In a way it’s very suited for their family, but that is a detail Bruce had hoped to keep from the League.

However, it happens anyway and now his two teams have met.

They’re sitting in the common area of the Watchtower when the Zeta-Tube suddenly whirs to life and the Batmobile comes crashing into the area. It spins to a stop as if it had been in the middle of a chase, before the teleporter snatched them off the streets.

Bruce gets out of his chair and makes his way over. He isn’t too worried about them, since they’re here and while that might have meant danger before, they are safe with him now. If one of them had been terribly injured or left behind, they would be screaming and yelling already and that isn’t happening yet.

His eyes meet Tim’s, who is standing next to the car, his costume a little singed, hair askew and looking a little worse for wear. Apologetically he greets: “Hi, Justice League, promise we have a good reason to be here.”

For Bruce, this is quite normal chaos and these are his kids, but he notices that the Justice League has formed a defensive barrier around the Batmobile. They perceive his kids as a threat. It’s so absurd that he is quiet for a moment.

In that moment, Superman steps forward and demands to know: “Who are you and how did you get up here?”

“With a car no less,” Hal adds, sounding a little impressed, which doesn’t make Bruce smug in the slightest, no sir.

He is about to tell everyone to stand down when the doors of the car open and his kids come spilling out. It’s a bit of a car clown moment with how many vigilantes fit inside.

Dick nearly falls out of the side, with Damian following after him. Both of them have soot in their hair and scratches on their faces.

A singed Jason stumbling out on the other side as he loudly complains: “This is the last time we’re letting Spoiler drive.”

Steph’s costume is a little flame tattered too as she swings open the driving side and says: “I’d like to see you do better, asshole. At least it wasn’t like Signal’s first driving attempt.”

“Hey,” Duke exclaims, coming out of the car after Jason, looking a little banged up. “Just because I didn’t know where the missiles were, doesn’t mean it was terrible.”

“I didn’t eject anyone,” Steph pouts.

“Yes, you did!” Duke exclaims. “You very much did.”

“Well, not by accident,” Steph argues. “It was part of the plan.”

The other front door is now open and Cass is next to him. He puts an arm around her and pulls her into his cape. Then he decides to step in, because it seems the League doesn’t know what to do when they’re not viewed as an authority.

“What happened?” he asks.

Six heads snap his way, as if his kids had forgotten where they were. It wouldn’t be the first time, so he doesn’t even bother rolling his eyes.

Tim reports: “The Riddler broke out of Arkham, along with like a bunch of b-rate villains. They caused havoc, but we rounded them all up. Riddler took the time it took us to round them up to set up his trap. He went with a fire theme.”

“Is he contained now?” Bruce asks, a little concerned.

“Yeah, no problem, B, we got ‘em,” Steph assures him casually with a thumbs up.

“Sorry, uhm, excuse me, Batman, do you know these people?” Clark asks in that awkward, polite way of his.

Bruce contemplates for a second what he should answer. Then decides that he wants to know what happened and doesn’t want to deal with questions. So he just says: “My associates. Now report, how did you end up here?”

“Associates,” Jason snorts.

However, he is ignored by his siblings as Damian reports: “We have caught the Riddler, however we did so without solving the last of his riddles. So, he sprang his trap after we took him down and we became the target of some missiles.”

“Oh my god, are you okay?” one of the League members exclaims under their breath.

“Tt, of course we’re okay,” Damian spits back. “Unlike you, we have been trained.”

“And we learned our lesson; always solve all of Riddler’s riddles,” Steph grins, giving them all a thumbs up.

“I already said that, but who listens to Red Robin? Nobody,” Tim complains.

Before it can turn into a squabble fest again, Bruce clears his throat and Dick jumps in to get them back on track, explaining: “We tried to get away in the Batmobile, but we couldn’t outrun it forever. So we decided the best way to escape was to use the Zeta-Tube connection.”

“It was great, Spoiler sent replacement flying so he could put in the code,” Jason laughs.

“I wanted to beam us to the Cave, but with the amount of time we had, just taking us to the most recently used coordinates was smarter,” Tim explains. He checks his arm computer then says: “The chatter on the police coms is that the missile made impact where we disappeared. No one was in the area when it went off, but there is property damage. And a few of the new recruits are convinced we’re supernatural, since none of our remains are being found.”

That last bit gets a few laughs from the assembled vigilantes. Most of Gotham PD have resigned themselves to the fact that the protectors of Gotham are humans, who seemingly pull of the impossible from time to time.

However, there are always newer members, who come up with great conspiracies about how they aren’t human and that’s why they pull it off. Bruce knows that it’s a bit of a game between his kids to see who can get them to believe the weirdest shit about them.

So, he just lets them have the moment of amusement after what must have been a highly tense moment.

Then he asks: “Where is Bluebird?” since he hasn’t seen Harper among the crowd, which is weird, because she’s on the night shift, while Duke is on the day shift.

“She the one, who figured out where Riddler was and caught him,” Dick says proudly. “She was escorting him to Arkham when she noticed he was being off. Without her we would’ve never made it to the Batmobile on time.”

Bruce makes a mental note to thank her for saving his other kids when he sees her.

“We also let Oracle know we’re okay, so she can inform her and Batwoman when she gets back from her mission, just in case she saw the news,” Dick goes on.

“Wait,” they get interrupted by Hal. “How many more heroes are you going to pull out of your sleeve? What happened to Mr. I Work alone? Am I being crazy here? Why are you all just standing there?”

Clark says: “Well, it’s obvious Batman knows these people and they do not seem like a threat to us, so I was going to wait until they’d given a report before demanding answers.”

“And we will demand answers, Batman,” Diana adds, making Bruce swallow a little. “We are your friends, we hoped there would be some trust there. You seem to have a whole different team of warriors. That is something you share.”

“Don’t mind, B, he just comes with permanently built in paranoia, it’s nothing against you,” Dick tells them.

In the background, Jason snorts: “Did you hear that guys? We’re his team of warriors. His associates.”

Damian huffs at that: “These imbeciles obviously do not know what they are on about and I refuse to be referred to as such, when I am the blood son.”

“I don’t know, Robin,” Steph laughs. “It almost starts to feel like he cares. I mean, he obviously has been bragging about us.”

“He has not spoken a word about us,” Damian exclaims.

In the background, Bruce can feel a headache coming. He has tried to keep his kids away from the League for their own safety. They can’t use his kids against him, should they become compromised, if they don’t know they exist.

However, they do know now and not only that, it seems like his kids are here to cause trouble on purpose now that they finally get to meet, who they refer to as, ‘his work friends AKA the only friends he has’. Delightful.

Indeed, the League has picked up on the words Jason set Damian up for, because Hal repeats: “Blood son?”

And Clark frowns: “They do seem quite young.”

“Batman, are you employing babes to protect Gotham with you?” Diana exclaims in horror.

“I am highly trained, who dares to call me a baby,” Damian protests immediately and while his siblings would usually laugh at him, they now also feel offended.

All of them have had to defend their age to people, including Bruce. They don’t like being questioned. So all of them are falling over themselves to defend their position as protectors of Gotham.

Bruce decides to help them, explaining: “There are more teen heroes, most of you have or had a sidekick. These vigilantes keep each other safe, they have the safety of back up and I also provide good gear. They’re not running around without a clue of what to do.”

“Ahww, I knew you cared, old man,” Steph coos, while Cass taps a genuine thank you in Morse code on his arm.

“Batman, I appreciate that you look out of them, but most sidekicks have had superpowers that are related to one of the heroes and sought out a mentor to help,” Clark says gently. “You have no powers, where did you get these kids?”

And in hindsight, he should have known better than to hesitate. However, at the times, he does, because the circus, the streets, the neighbor’s and some villains, are not really good answers to that question, no matter how true. And he doesn’t know if he wants to explain.

Still, he has to admit that he melts slightly when Cass speaks up to say: “His kids.”

Plus, it’s kind of funny how most League member jump out of their skin at the sudden voice, since none of them had spotted Cass before. Not even those with superhuman senses. His daughter is so talented.

Arguably the funniest reaction is Hal, who shrieks: “Where the fuck did you get these kids, Spooky!” as he violently startles backwards.

However, Jason jumps on the opportunity, sending Bruce a shit eating grin before he does (he might still be wearing the helmet, but Bruce knows him). He says: “Well, when two people love each other very much, they-”

No, just no. Absolutely not.

The League already thinks him to be a bit of a weirdo, who is steeped in paranoia. They respect him, but they’re always a little wary of him too (which is good in a way, he doesn’t want them close to his secret identity with the threat they could pose). Still, he doesn’t want them to think he practically bred an army of shadow-y vigilantes to protect Gotham. He’d never live it down.

“Hood,” he quickly cuts Jason off, before he can continue with his nonsense. Then he tiredly reminds him: “You’re adopted.”

“WHAT!” Jason shrieks, ripping his helmet off to reveal a shocked and betrayed face even with his domino mask. “How could you keep that from me?”

It seems like everyone needs a second to recover and process after the outburst. However, Jason is gaining steam and dramatically barrels on: “For years. Years! I lived with you, you fed me, you cared for me. You are my dad. At least you were. Was that all a lie? Some ruse? How- Why- I deserved to know.”

Bruce is shocked, unable to form words. His relationship with Jason has been rough, though getting better. It’s still tentative, though, so to hear Jason refer to him as dad throws him off in one of the best ways. Until he realizes Jason is fucking with him.

Even then, it is kind of nice that Jason is messing with him. When he looks, he sees that Jason is having fun under the mask of betrayal. It doesn’t have a bitter undertone, like it would have a few months ago. Instead, it feels a little like all the times Jason messed with him in front of Commissioner Gordon, back when he was Robin.

So, later Bruce will cut himself some slack for basking in that feeling for long enough that the others catch on and join in.

It starts with Steph, who has never claimed him as her father a day in his life, but will always be committed to a bit. She sniffles: “I can’t believe you’d lie to our brother like that. Soon you’ll tell us we’re all adopted.”

“Spoiler,” Bruce warns, hoping to deter anyone else from joining in.

That doesn’t happen, instead, Dick pulls Duke into a hug and exclaims: “Yeah, next you’ll tell us Signal here isn’t our half brother, like you didn’t leave his mother at the altar.” He narrows his eyes and adds: “I was the flower boy too, I can’t believe you did that to her.”

He sees Duke’s calculating gaze, flitting between Dick and himself and knows it’s only a matter of time before he picks a side, so he grunts: “Signal, don’t-”

“She talked about it until her death. Don’t tell me she made it up,” Duke suddenly says, picking the side of his siblings. Bruce would be more glad about him getting along with them, if it weren’t for the fact that in joining him, he left Bruce.

“You monster,” Jason butts back in again, not having had the spotlight in too long. “Look what you’ve done. You can’t just drop something like that on us. You can’t just pull the rug out from under us. Adopted. Or am I the only one? Huh? Is that it? Are all of them your real kids except for me?”

It’s a little too close to home, so Bruce stumbles: “No, of course, you’re always my kid. But this isn’t news to you. To any of you.”

“So we are all adopted?” Tim shrieks, stumbling forwards to clutch Bruce’s arm. “Those people you took me away from, were they my real parents? Did you lie to me?”

And this is just unfair. They’re not allowed to gang up on him like this and be dramatic. They know he doesn’t know what to do when they get like this. He gave them a home, he kept them as safe as he could, he loves them. What has he done to deserve this?

Dick and Duke are still embracing each other and Bruce is pretty sure Dick is weeping. Steph is definitely fake crying, while Jason is consoling her. Tim is still clutching his one arm, babbling about being taken from his parents.

Cass is his favorite right now, because she isn’t playing along with her sibling, just quietly huddling into his side. Damian would share the spot, but Bruce knows that the only reason he isn’t playing along, is because he doesn’t know what their game is and how he can use it to his advantage.

Indeed, he joins in – though not entirely purposefully – because he asks: “Father, I am your true son right? I am the blood son, not these imbeciles.”

Jason is definitely hiding a snort as a sob and in that moment, Bruce is tempted to disown Damian, just so he doesn’t have to deal with all this.

He can see how shocked the Justice League is, their eyes wide with horror, none of them having truly recovered at the sudden appearance at a gaggle of kids, who are now seemingly breaking down over the surprise news of being adopted.

He should’ve just let Jason give the League a sex talk.

So, he is tempted to not recognize Damian as his own, however, he knows how much Damian values his heritage and how insecure he is about his spot in the family. And he does look genuinely worried about what’s happening. So, Bruce has to sigh and reward the vulnerability that he shows with compassion, saying: “Yes, Robin.”

Jason lets out a pained groan and says: “So it is true? We really are adopted?” then breaks down crying. It’s almost impressive how well he can sob on demand. How well all of them can, Bruce wonders when they learned that and who taught them that.

The League, meanwhile has also apparently reached their limits and Hal suddenly explodes: “Fucking hell, Bats. Is that how you’re telling them that? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Around him all the others start to nod in agreement and Bruce knows that some of those shaking shoulders of his kids aren’t sobs but laughter at this point. He wonders if it’s wrong to return any of them, despite knowing that he would never give any of them up, even with all the gray hairs they’re giving him.

He does think about it though, especially when Clark cautiously says: “It seems unnecessarily cruel, Batman. They’ve just been chased through the streets by missiles. You could have waited.”

“Yes, it is very cruel,” Diana agrees. “And I do not know you to be cruel.”

Usually, Bruce has an image to maintain, but that image includes him working alone and having no sense of humor or humanity, so obviously it’s incorrect. Besides, any reputation he might have had has just been ruined by his kids. He doesn’t have to take this judgment from his friends.

So, he throws his hands up and, bordering on a whine, says: “I’m not cruel. They all know they’re adopted. All of them were over nine when it happened. Hell, not even all of them are adopted. Not all of them wanted to be. They know! They’re just messing with me.”

It’s quiet after his outburst.

Both the League and his kids blink for a few times. It’s clear that the League doesn’t know what to believe, but his kids are luckily done with the chaos. Though, Bruce doesn’t know if he’s happy with that when he sees some of their faces morph into grins.

Dick decides to put him out of his misery first, letting go of Duke to skip forwards and sling an arm around Bruce, which he grudgingly allows. He never says no to hugs from his kids, no matter what stunt they’ve just pulled.

“He’s right,” Dick smiles at everyone. Then he jokingly tugs on one of the ears on his cowl – something he has done since his early days as Robin – as he teases: “He didn’t mind. Right, B? You are a softie under there.”

“Who cares if he minds,” Jason says loudly. “That was hilarious, did you see everyone’s faces when replacement told them he’d stolen him out of his home. Golden. I’m gonna ask O for that footage the second we get back.”

Now the League is looking at them with even more confusion. Unsure of what to do now.

Bruce wants to let them suffer, but he also doesn’t want to give his kids room to do something else to embarrass him. So, he takes the reigns saying: “Just to clear it all up; this is Nightwing, my oldest.”

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” Dick gives the League a bright smile.

“My second or third oldest – we’re not sure – Red Hood,” Bruce continues on, gesturing to Jason, who just gives them a salute. “And, again, the second or third oldest, Black Bat.” She waves at them, startling some again, since they’d forgotten she was there. Hm, they might have to do another stealth and awareness training day.

“This is Spoiler, she is not one of mine technically,” he continues on introducing everyone there.

Steph grins at all of them and says: “I eat his food and steal his money, but I’m not having him sign shit. All of the perks, none of the accountability.”

“And how you remind me of that,” Bruce sighs, before gesturing to Tim and saying: “This is Red Robin, my fourth kid. He is adopted, but also emancipated. And I did not steal him away from his parents.”

“Technically, he did, because they were kinda shitty, but only legally when they died,” Tim corrects, which is not necessary and Bruce will be answering questions about that for months. Judging by the smug look on his face, Tim knows.

Deciding not to engage for now, he moves on to Duke. “This is Signal, he is my ward. He normally works the day shift.”

“Hello,” Duke squeaks awkwardly.

“And this is Robin, he is the youngest,” Bruce finishes his introductions.

“I am the blood son of the Bat and the one true heir,” Damian exclaims proudly.

“Yeah, yeah, we know, brat,” Jason rolls his eyes. “You were once B’s sperm. Whoop-die-doo.”

Multiple faces contort at that, with Tim and Steph both exclaiming how gross that is and how he didn’t have to phrase it like that and how they never want to hear about Bruce’s sex life ever again in any way, shape, or form.

Hal comments: “Wait, you actually have a kid?”

Bruce fights the urge to facepalm as he deadpans: “Just a second ago, you were willing to believe I had seven or more, why do you seem surprised?”

That renders Hal speechless, which is good, because Bruce doesn’t want to be here anymore. He wants to check up properly on his kids, check up on Gotham, and be as far away from the League and their questions as he can.

So, he uses the silence to says: “Now, as interesting as this has all been, we are going home. I have a city to check on and kids to ground.”

All around him protests start up about how he either has no power over them and can’t ground them or that they’re too mature and well trained fro childish things such as grounding. But Bruce is great at tuning them out when needs must, so he types in the last of the Batcave coordinates and lets the Zeta-Tube take them home.

A/N:

I love coming up with convoluted reasons of why the batfam would be in the Watchtower lmao

Also Alfred totally taught them to cry on command, knowing they would use it for evil <3

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dead-girl-tells-stories · 4 months

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Everyone from babies to young adults suddenly disappears from Amity Park, and the ghost portal self-destructs as well. The GIW and the Fentons obviously come to the conclusion that it’s ghosts but realize that this issue is way bigger than they can handle, so they call in the big guns, The Justice League.

Of course, they don’t tell the Justice League everything when they come. No matter how much they thought themselves to be heroes, they were simply glorified police in spandex. And with how they operate, they are all too small-minded and won’t be able to see the bigger picture. They also knew fully well that a lot of their methods weren’t even remotely close to being morally or ethically right, and if the JL found out, they would be screwed. So they simply told them enough to get them on their side.

Besides, how could they not help with how many people were missing? This was going to be easy.

_______

The Justice League didn’t trust the GIW. Something about them was just off. But so many missing people were on the line, so many kids!

Ghost?

Should they call in the JLD?

_______

Jason knew something was off with Crime Ally.

Nothing was wrong per se. In fact, everything was going great. Crime was at its lowest in like… forever. The general atmosphere was more calm, if not a bit chilly. He himself was calmer. And there were fewer kids on the streets. Which would have been a good thing if this wasn’t fuckin’ CRIME ALLY!

Jason’s been stressing himself out, trying to find out what was going on. He’s been searching up and down, talking to people left and right. No one was reporting anything amiss. Some even told him that they still saw the kids walking around, though not as often as before. And they also looked like they were being well taken care of.

He even saw and talked to some of the kids himself and it was the truth.

But when he asked where they went, they only laughed and ran away from him. Shouting that he would know soon before they disappeared around the corner. At this point, he was sufficiently freaked out and was so close to getting Batman to contact the JLD, but something told him otherwise.

A few days later Jason was in bed. He had ended patrol early that night and intended to get a full eight hours if he could.

But as fate would have it, he would not. Because just before he could hit the hay he heard it. Well, felt it would be more accurate but how could you feel a siren’s song? Pulling you? Drawing you in. Telling you that it would give you your deepest desire.

He didn’t even bother to suit back up into Red Hood. He just followed it. Followed and followed, Until he got to a dead-end alleyway. But there was no ‘end’. All there was, was darkness.

He began to get skeptical and took a few steps back. But the feeling was still there. Pulling, telling that all of his answers were in that darkness. Everything he wanted, needed, awaited beyond it.

He did the stupid thing and went into the darkness.

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t the feeling of walking through thick goop. But the feeling didn’t last long, and he eventually stepped out.

Again, he didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this.

Kids running around without a care in the world, unrestricted. Teenagers just hanging out and being kids too. Whatever adults he saw all looked pretty young, but they were all happy.

He looked around and noticed that it looked like a weird mix between a suburb and a night market, but it worked quite well. The stalls were all unmanned, and it seemed whoever could just take whatever they wanted. Dim but pretty lights connected all the stalls to as far as his eyes could see. And the sky.

In Gotham, there’s so much smog and bad weather you’d be lucky to even see a piece of blue during the day so no wonder people often forget about the night. But this, the night sky wherever he was, was beautiful, beyond what words and even thoughts could convey.

“Hello, Mr. Red Hood.”

Jason jumped. Was he so out of it that he didn’t even notice someone coming up behind-

Forget what he just said about the sky. The woman right here that was now standing before him? She- She-

“Are you single?”

There was silence. Then she giggled. Guess Jason didn’t need his helmet huh? His face was enough.

He also wanted to die again but hey, at least she laughed!

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artemismoorea03 · 8 months

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DPxDC Prompt: Damian's Friend

I feel like this has been done before so if it has please let me know!

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Damian is still learning to make friends. Sure, he has Superboy but according to his brothers and teachers he needed more friends. But why should he bother with new friends when one was already such a pain to keep up with? Social cues were hard to understand, jokes didn't make sense, and most civilians were far too squishy. He could end up hurting them accidentally and that would endanger his secret identity.

Though he quickly learned that meeting people as Robin made it considerably easier. That's how he ended up meeting Phantom, a 15-Year-Old boy who seemed rather lost. His only explanation for why he was in Gotham had been, "Listen, my mentor told me to come here and to stick with the birds and the bats. I don't know what that is or why I'm here but considering I don't seem to be able to go home yet I can only assume that I haven't found what I was looking for yet."

Phantom was strange, even for a meta. He didn't know what Gotham was, who Superman or Batman were, he had never heard of the Justice League, or even heard of 'metas' until Robin explained it to him. The kid seemed honest and he was staying out of the way of patrols and stuff which was more than most meta's did.

The only time he interfered with any fight was when Robin was cornered in a fight. In theory Robin would have been able to handle it but in the moment he had - admittedly - been a little in over his head. Phantom showed up and not only got Robin to safety but had managed to take down all of the enemies without killing anybody.

From that moment on Robin considered Phantom a friend and had given Phantom the number to one of the burner phones he kept on him during patrols. Phantom never called but would answer any time Robin checked in.

Which came in handy one day when the entirety of the team got trapped when a building came down, including one very frightened Superboy. The team was arguing loudly among themselves as they tried to figure out how to get out while Batman sat to one side with a headwound.

None of them were in good shape.

They were running out of air.

And the team were fighting and wasting even more air.

"We need more help." Nightwing said, "But I don't think Superman could hear us from here and nobody else in the city will be able to reach us before we run out of air."

"I could call my friend." Robin suggested, leaning against the wall.

"Uh..." Everybody looked at Superboy then each other.

"Your what?" Red Hood questioned.

"Is he saying friends?" Whispered Signal.

"Did you hit your head?" Spoiler asked, walking over as Robin stepped away from her.

"No, this is delirium. The air is too thin in here for him." Red Robin said.

"Robin, all your friends are right here." Superboy said.

Robin scoffed. "I have other friends. You guys told me I needed more friends, so I made friends. It was a task which I completed." He said, pulling out his phone as he silently muttered a 'please work' under his breath.

"Aw! I'm so proud of you!" Nightwing doted as Robin rolled his eyes and hit the call button.

"Yo, Robin, you see the collapse?" Phantom's voice said, sounding weirdly echoed on the line, not that it was unusual for Phantom's voice to do such a thing on calls.

"Bigger problems. I was inside the building during the collapse. Batman is down. Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, Orphan, Signal, Spoiler, and Superboy are all in here with me. We need exfil."

"Oh shit, on my way. I can get all of you out at once but you guys will have to forget what personal space is for a minute." Phantom said as Robin ignored the looks from the others.

"Whatever it takes, but hurry we're running out of air."

"What floor are you on?"

"Basement."

"Got it, I'll be there in just a second." The call turned to static for a moment before Phantom phased through the ceiling and looked at them. "Wow, a party." Phantom said, ending the call and slipping the phone into a bag on his back.

"No time, get us out of here." Robin pushed.

Phantom nodded, "You and you put Batman between you." He ordered Nightwing and Red Hood who after a moment did as they were told, supporting Batman between them. "Now use your free hands and hug me. The rest of you guys hug them and no matter what do not let go of each other or me. If you do you'll die."

"Great, trust the weird glowing kid not to drop us and kill us or die here. This will only go well." Red Hood growled but didn't question it further as they all held onto Phantom.

Robin could feel the ground vanish from under them as they flew upwards through the building and then out into open air. Phantom then took then a safe distance from the building near where the police were and made sure they were all on the ground before he stopped flying.

"There you go. Thanks for riding Phantom-Air." Phantom said, sounding exhausted as he leaned against Robin who frowned up at the taller teen.

"You okay?"

"All good. Been a minute. You guys get checked out. See you around Robin." Phantom said, then flew away as Superboy grabbed Robin's arm.

"Are we going to talk about the fact that your new friend doesn't have a heartbeat?" He said anxiously.

"He... doesn't?" Robin tilted his head.

"No!" Superboy squeaked, "Where did you even meet that kid?!"

"He saved me from being shot. It's no big deal."

"Does B know he exists?" Red Robin asked.

"No."

"Then it's a big deal." The others sighed.

Nightwing shrugged. "Next time introduce us to him properly though, when we're not suffocating in a hole."

"I suppose I will consider it."

Orphan was quiet for a moment, "New brother?"

"NO!" They all said together as she chuckled.

#dp x dc prompt #this is pretty terrible #but it's been a long day #so it's here #my prompts

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helen-with-an-a · 19 days

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Short but Mighty

Hi. So this is a request I got and I absolutely loved writing it. It's a little on the long side but I really hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Also, just imagine no one is injured in either team and it’s Arsenal not Chelsea against Barca in the UWCL this year. Another side note is that I am 5’6/5’7 so I don’t really have much of a frame of reference for being short/shorter but I hope I’ve done it justice 🩷

Lucy Bronze x Reader

Description: R is short and a little angry

Word Count: 4.8k

“She’s so angry because her attitude has been compressed into that small body”

“Have you ever noticed that in every friend group, the shortest one is usually the craziest?”

“Short girls are mean because they are closer to hell”

“If you think she’s short, you should see her patience”

“The smaller the creature, the bolder its spirit”

“Like a chihuahua”

“And though she be but little, she is fierce”

You had heard it all. Even Shakespeare had commented on it. Every comment about short and angry people ever made – you had heard it all. But the thing was, you weren’t short. You were 5 foot 3 inches. 160cm. The average height for women in the UK – you would know; you googled it to make sure. But for some reason, every person on your team was a bloody giant – towering over you, making you look even shorter. Except for Aitana – she was the only one who truly understood your pain.

At first, it bothered you. Growing up, you were constantly being leant on by your friends or patted on the head; your coaches affectionately called you ‘short stuff’. It really, really pissed you off. You saw players on the field consider you a joke of an opponent as you stepped onto the field. So, you started to build muscle, lifting heavier, adjusting your diet, and altering your lifestyle as much as possible while remaining healthy. When you made your senior debut at just 17, you could lift well over 1.5 of your body weight. You also channelled that muscle into your speed, earning a reputation for being the fastest on the pitch. On paper, a defending midfielder of your height was laughable, but when the challengers on the pitch saw your name in the Starting XI, they would quake with fear.

Despite all the comments, they were right about your supposed anger. You don’t know whether it was you being unafraid to utilise your body on the pitch or something else entirely, but you were frequently topping the table with the number of yellow cards at the end of the season. Personally, you believed the refs had a vendetta against you; your reputation preceded you, so they felt it was necessary to uphold it – often giving you cards for something that would have been just a caution for anything else. You did pride yourself on never receiving a straight red (only double-yellows) – something that Lucy frequently reminded you; it wasn’t that impressive as many people didn’t receive straight reds. You weren’t an aggressive player by any means. As soon as that whistle went, you were the first to offer a helping hand. You had never injured anyone – ever. That was something else you were proud of. Whilst you often got yellows for the tackle, you never left any lasting marks. Were you physical? Yes. Were you aggressive? No.

It was the only thing people had spoken about in weeks. Arsenal vs. Barcelona in the Champions League semi-final. Walsh vs. Williamson; Russo, Lacasse and Blackstenius vs. Leon, Bronze and Batlle; Little vs. Putellas; Codina vs her old club; Paralluelo, Pina and Caldentey vs Wubben-Moy, Catley and Fox; Y/S/N vs. McCabe. That was the big one – two of the most carded players in their leagues battling it out for a chance to snatch the other’s chance of a Champions League title. Alexia had been pestering you since the draw was made about your behaviour. She wouldn’t hesitate to bench you if you were acting out. Her tactics were based on negative reinforcement. It hadn’t worked – all her threats, lectures, and pressures were rendered null because you knew how physical these matches would be. You knew Jona would put on the most physical players, at least to start with.

Lucy, on the other hand, relied on positive reinforcement. As your girlfriend, she was always in your corner, especially on the pitch when a card was lifted above your head. But she didn’t like how often you were suspended or how often your abilities were outshone by the number of yellows next to your name. Your technical prowess was often overlooked by commentators and fans because of the cards.

“You know,” Lucy started, her fingertips brushing your neck as she pulled your hair out of her way. You were standing at the kitchen counter, looking at a recipe on your phone as you planned out your tea.

“What do I know, gorgeous?” you teased, tilting your head up to look at her. Your hands came to rest on top of hers on your waist.

“I think we should set up a sticker chart system or something. What do you think?” She mused, starting an assault on your neck.

“N-no marks, my love,” you stuttered out automatically but leaning back into her body anyway.

“I know.” You could feel the grin against your skin. “But you didn’t answer my question, lovely.” She nipped at your earlobe gently.

“Stickers … what for?” You turned around in her arms, coming to look at her. She didn’t stop her attack, her strong hands coming to angle your head so she had more access to your jaw. You let your eyes slip closed, getting lost in the feeling of her mouth on you.

“As a way to … combat?... your little card problem.” That sobered you right up. You pushed her way and raised an unamused eyebrow at her.

“My card problem?” You snarked.

“Alexia has been on my arse about getting you to … calm down … during matches,” she explained, choosing her words carefully. She moved to put her hands back on your hips, but you stopped her with a hand on her chest.

“So, you went with a sticker chart?” you asked incredulously. “I’m not a child, Lucy.” You never called her Lucy unless you were angry at her; she was always ‘gorgeous’ or ‘my love’, just like you were always ‘lovely’ or ‘pretty girl’ to her.

“I know you’re not, pretty girl.” She cupped your face with her hand. “I think I phrased myself badly. I’m sorry.” Her thumb moved methodically against your cheek, an action that has always calmed you. “How about a little reward system?” She grinned cheekily at you as you narrowed your eyes. “For every match without a card, I’ll treat you?” She proposed.

“I don’t need a-” you started, still annoyed that your girlfriend and your captain felt it necessary to set up a system to manage your behaviour.

“Alexia has been on my arse about this for weeks. She’s serious about benching you, lovely.” She interrupted. You sighed. You were well aware of what Alexia considered unacceptable in the Barca team – and the number of yellow cards you received was one of them. “So, what do you think? I think it’s a win-win situation if you ask me. Alexia will finally back off and not be a minute away from a heart attack, and you get …” she paused, thinking of the right way to phrase it. “Whatever your heart desires.” You could see her reasoning. Judging by the vein in Alexia’s forehead, she wasn’t coping too well with the idea that you would face McCabe in a few weeks. And you get weekly treats if you avoid yellow cards.

“Whatever I want?” You double-checked. Lucy could see you were already agreeing to her idea.

“Whatever. You. Want. Pretty girl.” She punctuated each word with a kiss.

“So, if I wanted a fancy date night at that place in town?” Lucy wasn’t the biggest fan of dates where you had to dress up all fancy – she thought it wasn’t an accurate and complete representation of your relationship. She loved taking you to smaller, more casual restaurants where you could relax, order something to-go, or just cook a nicer meal at home. But Mapi had shown you a place she was planning to take Ingrid for their anniversary, and you had fallen in love – begging Lucy to go on a date there with you. What you didn’t know she was saving it for when she proposed – the ring hidden with her Euro medal buried in the depths of the cupboard in your spare room.

“Whatever you want.” She smiled at your shocked expression.

“Or if I wanted a spa day at home on our day off?” you asked, checking how far she would be willing to go. She would much rather do something on your day off to keep her body moving a little, whereas you would rather lounge on the couch, catching up on your show.

“Whatever you want.” She repeated, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth.

“Or…” you tried to think of something she would say no to. “If I asked you to put on my old United jersey? And take a photo in it? And post it on social media?” Your request was ridiculous, but you knew it was something she would never, ever say no to. You had played for United while she was at City, moving to Lyon together, where your relationship had budded into what it is now, before returning to your respective clubs. You were friends before Lyon, having played with each other on the England squad for years, but moving to the new city together had led to something magical. The rival was a constant joke between you, often tuning in to the Derby’s when your schedule allowed for it – her and Keira on one couch, you and Ona on the other – all clad in your particular colours and fighting for the right to brag.

“Whatever you want.” She sighed but loved the fact that it brought that big, wide grin of yours to your face.

“What about if I asked for control?” You wiggled your eyebrow and scanned her body appreciatively, indicating precisely what you hinted at. You could see her eyes flicker slightly, making you think you had found the thing she wouldn’t do as your reward. Lucy loved being in control, and you didn’t mind letting her do it. But occasionally, very, very occasionally, she handed over the ropes (figuratively and literally) to you.

“What. Ever. You. Want,” she said lowly, silencing any more of your questions with a passionate kiss.

This was it. The big day. The first leg of the Champions League semi-final. Arsenal vs. Barcelona. McCabe vs. Y/S/N. You had been good to your word – the reward system was working well. So far, Lucy had treated you to a day at the beach, a nice meal, a new set of lingerie, and a day trip with you to Tarragona on a day off. Four treats for your four matches without a yellow. It would have been more, but you picked up a yellow card during your match with Real Madrid. But this … this was your big test.

“Todas mantienen la cabeza,” Alexia said just before you all left the changing rooms. She said it to everyone, but you know it was aimed at you.

“What do you want your reward to be, pretty girl?” Lucy asked you as you performed your final pre-match ritual (a quick roll of deodorant, a pump of breath spray, and a spritz of perfume—you’re welcome, everyone on the field).

“Not sure, I’ve got an idea, but I might wait for the final for that one,” you winked cheekily at her, giving her an indication of what you were insinuating. She sighed, shaking her head at you.

“Later,” she promised as she guided you into the tunnel.

This match was not going to plan for you. Ona and Pina had already picked up yellows for dissent, and you were only 30 minutes into the match. You were on your best behaviour – even going so far as not to tackle Katie when you would usually have. You could see how much less stress Lucy was under with every game you played where you didn’t have your name on the card list. You weren’t behaving for yourself – you couldn’t care less if you were benched (slight exaggeration, but the sentiment remained). You were doing it for Lucy; her frown lines were easing somewhat; her muscles were less tense; she was sleeping much better. You hadn’t realised your actions added much to her plate.

And then Katie left a studs-up tackle on Lucy and didn’t get carded or even a foul. You were near her when it happened. Lucy was running down the wing with the ball at her feet, you were dropping back a little, allowing her the space to make a cross to an awaiting Patri and Aitana. Katie’s yellow boots appeared from nowhere and clipped her ankles – not even making an attempt to get the ball. It was an obvious card, yet the ref motioned to carry on whilst Lucy was on her knees, clutching at her ankle, her eyes scrunched shut at the pain.

Eventually, the whistle was blown when it was apparent that Lucy wasn’t standing up. You crouched at her side, a hand coming to rub at her back.

“Do you need the medics, my love?” You asked, the tone gentle in comparison to the fury you were filled with.

“Just … gimme a minute,” she gasped. You nodded even though she couldn’t see you, your hand resting on her lower back in silent support.

“Estás bien? Está ella bien? Necesitamos a los fisios?” Alexia gushed as she came to your side, a concerned Patri and Marta joining her.

“Ella esta bien,” you said, your words supported by Lucy’s actions as she moved to stand up. You briefly scanned her, nodding to yourself as you confirmed she was fine.

The switch in you was instant. McCabe needed to pay for that. And if the ref wasn’t going to do it, you would.

“Don’t,” Lucy said at the same time as Alexia uttered “no”. You just waved them off, smiling innocently at them as you set up for the corner kick.

The incident that got you the card was well deserved. You had only 2 minutes left of the half – not including injury time – and Katie was starting a last-minute Arsenal press. You were winning comfortably at 3 – 0, but you knew Arsenal would come out hard in the next half; they weren’t called ‘second halfsenal’ for nothing. Could you have gone for a clean tackle? Probably. Could you have just tackled her in general? Yes. But it wouldn’t have been nearly as satisfying as watching her fly to the ground. She ran full speed down the wing, not looking where her defenders were. You timed your run well, bracing your body as she slammed into you. You had bothered to stick out your leg to make it look like you were aiming for the ball, but everyone, on and off the pitch, knew you were going for revenge. She clattered to the ground in a pile of red and white, and a torrent of Irish-accented swears erupted from her.

You were immediately faced with an angry Aussie. Caitlin shoved your shoulders as she demanded retribution for you. You lifted your hands innocently.

“I was going for the ball,” you said, shrugging a little. You could see the referee approaching, Alexia looking furious at you, and Lucy shaking her head. Still, you could see her smiling – finding the situation at least somewhat amusing. “I was going for the ball,” you repeated to the ref, ignoring the shouts from the Arsenal girls. “See, she’s fine.” You gestured to a now-standing McCabe. It didn’t help your case; the yellow square was lifted above your head as you rolled your eyes.

“Fucking short-arse bitch” you heard McCabe mutter as you all walked away, ready to finish this half.

“And yet, I still put you on the ground,” you smirked at her, letting Lucy drag you away.

Halftime was full of Alexia's lecture. You looked to Jona to see if he would intervene, but he just shrugged. When he saw Lucy go down from a dodgy tackle, he expected nothing less from you.

“Prometiste que te portarías lo mejor posible.”

“She’s still walking, isn’t she?” You weren’t about to apologise for this. This was your style of play; she knew that when you joined the team; Barca knew it when they signed you.

“Qué dije de los amarillos? Te pedí que no los consiguieras. Y que haces?” She continued as if you hadn’t spoken. “Necesitas empezar a actuar de forma más adulta al respecto. No necesitas ser cardada por todo. Recibir tarjetas todo el tiempo es muy inmaduro. No tienes respeto”

“Enough, Alexia.” You interrupted. Yes, she had somewhat of a right to be angry at you, but calling you immature? Saying you had no respect? “I play my style of play. If the club didn’t like it, they wouldn’t have renewed my contract or signed me in the first place. If Jona has a problem with it, he would either speak to me or not play me. But they haven’t. I have renewed with Barca and Jona hasn’t even mentioned it in our one-to-ones. You are the only one who’s up my arse about this. And you’ve been pestering Lucy, too. Newsflash, she’s not my keeper, Alexia, and I am not a child; she’s my girlfriend.” You could see she was trying to interrupt you again, but you pushed through. “If you had maybe spoken to me in a way that suggested you valued me as a player and a person rather than lecturing me every chance you get, we could be in a different situation right now. But no, you have insulted me and the way I play my football, and now you have made me even more pissed off than I already was. So please, leave me alone at the moment.” You were seething. You hadn’t meant to explode at her like you did, but she had hurt your feelings one too many times about a bloody yellow card. You looked around the changing room, seeing the shocked expressions on people’s faces. No one spoke to their captain like that. You didn’t dare glance at Lucy, too afraid of what you might see. You would have seen the proud expression gracing her face if you had. She had been waiting for you to detonate at Alexia; she could see it in the way you grit your teeth during every lecture, the way you took longer showers after training to destress every time Alexia had called you away to talk about your behaviour, the way you were baking more and more as a method to try to quell your anger.

You pushed your way past, banging the door heavily as you stormed back out of the tunnel. You knew the Emirates well, so there were no chances of you getting lost. A few doors down, there was a seldom-used bathroom you could hide in, but you could still hear the chatter that told you the team was in the tunnel, ready to start the second half.

The changing room was silent. You could hear a mouse sneeze if you listened carefully enough.

“Bien entonces,” it was Mapi who spoke – breaking the tension-filled silence.

“Quién se cree que ella es? Todo lo que he estado tratando de hacer es ayudarla a limpiar su juego.” Alexia was incredulous. She believed you needed to clean up your act if you were going to go far at Barca. She didn’t consider the fact that you had numerous accolades to your name, coming second in the Ballon d’Or for the past 3 years and earning yourself a Sports Personality of the Year twice.

“No, Alexia. You are in the wrong.” Lucy snapped. She couldn’t allow this to go on any longer. Yes, she wanted you to stop getting yellow cards, but not at the expense of your style of play. She wanted the cards to stop being the only thing commentators spoke about when your name was mentioned. She wanted the world to see you as she did. “I know you meant well, but you basically asked her to stop playing in the way that makes her so unique. Imagine if someone did that to you, you’d be pretty pissed off too.” Alexia frowned. That wasn’t what she had meant – not at all. She wanted you to stop getting the yellow cards because she viewed something to be feared, not something that was just a part of playing football.

“Y ahora te has ido y la has hecho aún más enojada,” Patri laughed humourlessly. “No se sorprendan si hoy vemos un rojo, chicas,” she added as the team made their way back to the pitch.

You slipped silently out of the bathroom, joining the rest of the team as if you were just the last one to leave the changing room.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Lucy said, extending her hand to you as she lingered just out of sight of the cameras.

“Hey, gorgeous.” You squeezed her hand, letting her know you were ok.

“Please, try not to get a red,” she joked.

“If McCabe behaves, so will I,” you said seriously. She smirked at you – just the sort of thing she was expecting from you.

McCabe did not behave. It was remarkable how calm you had been, considering how riled you were during the half-time break. You had spent a lot of this second half on the floor, being a victim of harsh tackles from McCabe herself and a particular Aussie. You could see your English teammates wincing every time you went down. But you always gave as good as you got, leaving unforgiving shoves and exacting tackles just on the right side of nasty.

It was in the 55th minute when the second incident occurred. You were genuinely going for the ball. You both jumped up for a header – you might have jumped more sideways than up, but that was neither here nor there. The slight knock you gave her made her lose her balance, landing hard on her hands and knees rather than her feet. It didn’t help that you landed perfectly upright, either. You knew how much running into you could hurt – particularly if you braced yourself (which you had been); she had been jogging backwards, unaware of your presence behind her.

“Oh, my god. I am so sorry. Are you ok?” You were genuine this time; both your national and club teammates could see it. This time, Leah was the first one to you, pulling you away by your shoulder.

“What the fuck, Y/N?” She asked, shocked by your display of aggression.

“I’m sorry, Lee. That was a complete accident.” You looked down at McCabe rolling around on the floor, gripping at her ankle. She just sighed in response. Lucy was the first of your Barca friends to reach you.

“I’m sorry,” you said dejectedly.

“I know you are, lovely” Lucy squeezed your elbow gently. “But you know you’re going to get a card, right?”

“Yeh, I know.” You turned to face the ref, shocked to see Alexia pleading with her and arguing for you. You were unsurprised when her protests were waved away, and you were presented with the yellow and red squares before being shown that you had to leave the pitch. You took it graciously and headed off the pitch.

You were escorted to the changing room by an official but were left to your own devices. You showered quickly before changing into your clothes, grateful you had packed some ‘street clothes’ – just jeans and one of Lucy’s hoodies. As you heard the Emirates erupt with cheers, the idea was planted in your head. This was a Champions League semi-final, no way in hell were you missing that. So, you slipped your accreditation around your neck and left the changing room. The crowd were still celebrating the Arsenal goal as you emerged from the tunnel. You saw Jonas spot you, his eyes widening as he gestured to the Fourth Official. You nodded once and waved at Jona and the other Barca coaches before hopping over the barricade. You spotted a woman with a young girl sitting on her lap with a free seat next to her.

“Do you mind?” You asked as you gestured to the seat. The woman shook her head and laughed a little as you made yourself comfortable next to her. The little girl was staring at you wide-eyed. She was wearing a little Barca jersey with her hair in two plaits, looking the epitome of cute.

“Hi, I’m Y/N.” You said, extending your hand to her. “What’s your name?” After a second of cajoling from her mother, she piped up.

“Lucie. But with an -ie not a -y.”

“Well, Lucie with an -ie not a -y, that is a very good name.” You smiled and turned back to the pitch, watching the game resume. You could tell the cameras were on you; you could see Ingrid shaking her head from the bench every time your face was displayed on the big screen.

The rest of the match was uneventful. Barca scored another two goals, bringing the final score to 5 – 1.

“So, Lucie with an -ie. Whose number’s on the back?” You nodded to her shirt.

“Lucy Bronze,” she cheered. “She’s my favourite. And we have the same name, but we spell it differently.” Lucie said with all the seriousness of a 6-year-old with something essential to tell you.

“Can I let you into a secret?” You leant down to whisper to her conspiratorially. She nodded enthusiastically. “She’s my favourite too.” Lucie looked up wide-eyed at you. “Do you want me to try and get you her shirt?” You asked. Her eyes grew even wider; you thought her head might pop off with how aggressively she was nodding. “Ok, wait here, ok. I’ll be right back.” You smiled as you hopped the barrier again, making your way onto the pitch and headed straight to Lucy. She was standing with Keira and Leah, clearly having a bit of a catch-up.

“Hello, trouble.” Keira teased as you appeared.

“Yeh, yeh.” You lightly shoved her head. “Can I have your shirt, my love?” You asked Lucy. She cocked her head at your request. “I think I might have found your biggest fan.” You smiled as you started to take your jumper off, grateful that you had put a shirt on underneath for once. Lucy laughed as she whipped off her top, thanking you as she slipped the hoodie on to keep her covered. You hugged Leah quickly before dragging Lucy away to find your new friend.

“Alexia wants to talk to you, pretty girl,” Lucy said as you pulled her back to the stands.

“Later,” you sighed, not really in the mood for anything Alexia had to say. “I want you to meet my new friend first.” You looked at her with a wide smile as you came to a stop in front of Lucie.

“Lucie with an -ie meet Lucy with a -y. Luce, this is my new friend, Lucie.” You did the unnecessary introductions.

“Hi,” Lucy grinned at the young girl. You handed the jersey off to her mum as you left them alone for a little bit, moving to interact with some of the other fans.

A little while later, familiar strong arms wrapped around your waist, distracting you from your conversation with Alessia and Lotte.

“Nosotras tenemos que ir, lovely” Lucy whispered, kissing your shoulder lightly.

“We get it; you speak Spanish.” Alessia teased, waving goodbye to you as you sent them both a kiss.

“Vamos,” you joked as you leant back into Lucy. Although your position made it a little awkward to walk, you were too comfortable to move.

“What reward do you want this week?” Lucy whispered in your ear as you entered the tunnel.

“Reward? But I got a card, two, in fact. Or did you miss the part where McCabe ran into me twice, and you went down a player?” You looked at her, confused.

“I know, but you were so, so sexy.” She squeezed you not-too-gently. “I’ve got to treat my pretty girl when she looks that good,” she teased, but you knew by the glint in her eyes that she was deadly serious. You hummed.

“I think I might have some ideas,” you mused as you leant back on her subtly, letting your head drop back on her shoulder.

“Good,” she whispered back, littering a series of kisses to your cheek. “My short, sexy defender.” She laughed.

“Oi,” you slapped her arm. “Enough with the short jokes.”

“Never, you get so riled up by them.” She laughed at your angry expression. “And you know exactly what that does to me,” she said lowly in your ear – a lasting promise of later left unspoken in the air.

I hope you enjoyed it <3<3<3<3

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mlm-writer · 9 months

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Tears of Lust (Dick Grayson x M!Reader)

Pairing: Dick Grayson aka Nightwing (YJ ver.) x Demon!Male!Reader Rating: Explicit Words: 3447 POV: Second Summary: If a demon is not majority of their time in hell, they get a rut once a year. You try to keep your human boyfriend out of your ‘weird’ demon things, but Dick has never wanted to be involved more. Note: Writing so many Young Justice fics and I don’t even remember the plot anymore. Should rewatch that some time. Sequel here. Tags: smut, ruts, heavy dacryphilia, we are entering monsterfucker territory, established relationship, super long tongue, anallingus, deep penetration, bit of magic, overstimulation, degradation, slight dumbification (?), maybe a bit humiliation???, breeding, throatfucking, pleasure dom reader, begging, anal fingering, anal fucking, and still sweet I promise, reader is so in looooove

Hell could go fuck itself. The cold of Earth was easy to deal with when you had three blankets wrapped around you. Usually it took that and a thick hoodie to keep you at your preferred temperature, but as your eyes stayed trained on the TV in front of you, sweat gathered on your back. You frowned and removed one of the blankets, only now noticing your leg had been bouncing this whole time. A sigh left you as you saw what time of the year it was again.

You had no time to think about the arrangements you needed to make. You could hear Dick fumble with his keys outside the door. From the way the keys jingled, you could tell he had his hands full of groceries again. You paused the TV with a snap of your fingers and strutted over to the door, blankets around you like a cloak. When you opened the door, you were greeted with the exact sight you were expecting.

Grocery bags hung from Dick’s wrists. You took them all with one hand, the other holding the blankets around you. “Are we hosting a dinner party? Why did you buy so much,” you questioned as you easily carried the bags inside and put them on the kitchen island. You pushed one of the plastic bags open to peer inside, seeing a lot of ice cream inside.

“Because this year, you are spending your rut here with me,” Dick replied in a matter-of-fact tone, like you had already agreed to do that, but you had forgotten. You froze. With a slow breath you turned around to see Dick leisurely taking his shoes off. The idea alone was enough to shorten the time for your rut to arrive.

“Since when do you know about that?” Your words were all carefully picked, spoken slowly with a weight hanging on each of them. When Dick approached you to give you his usual welcome kiss, you took a step back, not allowing him to change the subject.

Dick looked hurt, but his patience seemed to be endless with you. He did not try to get closer and instead walked over to the kitchen island to get started on putting the groceries away. “It is kind of hard not to notice that you have a ‘business trip’ every year around the same time. I did some digging in the Justice League database…” Dick paused, staring at the canned soup in his hand as if it offended him. “Why did you never tell me?” His eyes raised up to meet yours, the look of disappointment no longer directed at the chicken soup, but at you instead.

You swallowed and sat down at one of the barstools, unconsciously picking the one that put some distance between you and your partner. “The ruts just occur because I don’t spend the majority of my time in hell anymore. I know how much you value monogamy, so I just go back and tough it out,” you defended yourself, afraid Dick thought you were secretly fucking people on the side. Now holding a huge bottle of lube, Dick gave you the side eye. You understood immediately that you were not answering his question. “I was afraid you would think it too much. You’ve been dealing with so much. I was afraid another demon thing would be asking too much of you.” You held your head high, owning up to your shortcomings. The fact that Dick had bought all this stuff was enough proof that you had been wrong. “I’m sorry, I should have thought more highly of you.”

Dick sighed, putting down the cup noodles he had just retrieved from one of the plastic bags. “Apology accepted,” he muttered, before looking at you again. He then paused. “But wait, you’re not gonna tell me your rut is dangerous or something? No ‘oh I might lose control and I don’t wanna hurt you’ or something? You’re just going to let me?” You chuckled and shed the blankets, so you could more easily circle the kitchen island to wrap your arms around your lover’s waist.

Dick twisted his head to kiss you and you happily complied. After a short kiss, you started helping Dick with the shopping. “You’ll be fine. I’m centuries old now. I won’t be an unstoppable animal.

The apartment was made rut-proof by Dick and you did not have the heart to tell him that the Justice League database might contain some anti-demon propaganda, because some of the preparations were even beyond your comprehension. Dick had stored away all breakable items. Your cabinets were full of cereal for some reason. What was up with that?

You enjoyed the cold temperature Dick preferred for once as you lounged on the couch with Dick snuggled up beside you. You wanted him ten minutes ago, but he was so cosied up that you felt bad if you were to turn off the TV just to fuck him senseless. You thought you were doing well until Dick spoke up. “You’ve been hard since like five minutes into this episode. When are you carrying me to the bedroom?” He had said it so casually, like he wanted an actual answer like ‘oh around 10pm’ or ‘after this episode ends’. However, you knew better than that. This was your lover’s way of saying ‘take me now’.

You did not even bother turning the TV off. In a flash, you had Dick off the couch and in your arms. With a shadow dash you were in the bedroom in an instant. Dick bounced on the mattress as you threw him onto the bed. There was no room for words as your clothes ripped and you captured Dick’s lips mid-transformation. “Sorry,” you mumbled between filthy kisses, “I can’t maintain my human form during the rut.”

“I know,” Dick replied, hands grabbing at the muscles that tore through the fabrics. He helped rid you of the confines you found yourself in. He reached for your cock, but you grabbed his hand, gathering the other one as well to pin them both above his head. “Holy shit, this is so hot,” he said in a breathy chuckle, his face stretched in an excited smile.

You held his wrists above his head with a single, large hand, while you took his lips between your fangs. You gently toyed with them, before sliding your long, thick tongue into Dick’s mouth. He moaned like a pornstar. You could smell his arousal, his excitement and his precum leaking inside his underwear.

Normally you would play with him more, but not today. You had a hunger that had to be satiated, so you penetrated his throat with your tongue and with a snap of your fingers, got rid of Dick’s clothes. The textiles evaporated like water on the stove and you were pretty sure Dick had no idea you could even do that, but he was too busy deepthroating your tongue to care. You fed him your saliva, thinking he could use the aphrodisiac effects of it to get through the night. When you finally let his mouth go, Dick was gasping for air. He looked happy as he was panting on the bed.

You grabbed his ankles and flipped him over like a pancake. Dick was giggling like a school girl seeing her crush. He followed your lead, allowing you to put a pillow under his hips. Your huge hands could fit a round cheek in each of them as you pulled them apart, revealing Dick’s plugged little hole. “Why does it seem like you’re the one going through a rut?” You scolded him teasingly as you lightly tugged at the plug. You pulled a little bit out, just to push it back in. Dick was humming in reply, loving the nails that were leaving animalistic marks on his bum.

“I am promised a whole couple of days of endless fucking. How can I not be excited?” You gave his butt a light slap as a sort of reprimand, but Dick just seemed to enjoy it. Eventually, you had enough of just watching his hole stretch over the plug and you pulled it out roughly. Dick gasped, the sound dissolving into a cry as your tongue entered his slick hole. Your senses got filled by your lover. His scent was like gasoline on the fire that produced your hormones. His cries, as you swirled your tongue around inside him, were like an open tap above a clogged sink that was already full of lust. His taste… My god, his taste was like the first time you hit the high on drugs and everything feels so good and you feel like you could stay in the moment forever, never wanting to return to normal life.

Little by little, your tongue penetrated him deeper and deeper. Dick was humping the pillow underneath him and letting out small cries of pleasure. You did not know how long it took for Dick to take it all, but by the time you had all 20 inches of your tongue inside him, Dick was desperately humping the pillow and your face. “Feels so good, so good,” he kept muttering, body overtaken by pleasure. He seemed to be unable to think of anything else but his upcoming orgasm. You helped him fuck himself on your tongue, your claws leaving bruises on his ass. When you could feel him on the edge, you pulled him close and started violently wiggling your tongue inside him.

Dick groaned as your tongue milked him through his first orgasm. No amount of twitching and squirming could free him from your grasp. His cum had long stained the pillow, but you did not stop, pressing on all his sensitive spots repeatedly. “Please, baby! Mercy! Please!” None of those words have ever been your safeword, so you kept going.

Dick’s voice reached a crescendo as you kept stimulating him. He was near-screaming when you smelled it, the thing you needed most. You retracted your tongue and climbed over Dick. He fell on the bed like a puppet with its strings cut. You grabbed him by the hair and forced his head up. There they were, glistening on a line from his eyes down his cheeks. You licked the tears off his cheeks, before giving him an appreciative kiss on the lips. “Why?” Dick shuddered, eyes hooded and a quiver in his lips as he struggled with just a single syllable.

You grinned down at him and caressed his pretty face. “I’m disappointed you didn’t study better,” you mockingly cooed at him as you moved. You sat down against the headboard, gently lifting Dick to sit in your lap. “You just read you were gonna get fucked and your dumbwhore brain just turned off, didn’t it?” You whispered as you scooted him forward until his dick was flush against yours. He was fully flaccid, but you did not need him to be hard at all. Dick nodded with his mouth slightly open, arousal painted on his face. You morphed one of your clawed hands into a more human shape, something without any sharp edges. You did not harm Dick as you inserted a single, thick finger inside him. His breath got stuck in his throat and he fell forward against you. You held him cradled against your chest as you thrusted that single finger inside him. “I’ll try to explain in a way my dumb little slut will understand,” you whispered, adoring how he had his hands in fists resting against your chest. “If I spend a rut with a human, the only thing that will satisfy me are tears produced during sex,” you entered another finger, “now most demons would choose some barbaric way to get those, but me… I have you.” You curled your digits, finding Dick’s prostate with ease. Whether it was your hellish nature or due to how well you knew him, you were not sure, but you always found it right when you were looking for it.

Dick writhed against you as you rubbed his prostate relentlessly. “I’m going to make you feel so good, my love,” you promised, “I’m going to melt your brain with pleasure, so all that is left of you when I’m done is a pretty, mindless, little fuckslut.” Your dirty words hurled Dick towards his second orgasm. He was biting his lips until the very end, where a loud moan broke his silence. His limp cock poured his cum over your hard length, but even when that little bit of cum ran out, you held him in place with one hand, while violating his prostate with the other.

Dick wailed in pleasure, but you could tell he was on that border of where too much pleasure was indistinguishable from pain. He gripped your shoulders, blunt nails digging in you as he seemed to hold on for dear life. He raised his head, eyes big and pleading. “Please, please, please,” he cried out. It did not take long for his limp cock to twitch in another attempt at spilling cum over you, but it was too soon and Dick had nothing to give, except the big, juicy tears that started pouring from his eyes. You leaned down, lapping them up as you continued your assault. Dick’s whole body was shaking at your onslaught. “Stop, please!” Dick eventually screamed. That was not the safeword, but you understood he needed a break, so you pulled your fingers out of him, while licking the last of his tears off his face.

Dick leaned against you, still sobbing. You wrapped your arms around him, stroking his back gently. Everytime a tear escaped him, your tongue automatically darted out to lap it up. “Shh, you did well, rest a little,” you cooed. You waited patiently as his breathing slowed, until Dick eventually let his hand wander down to take a good grasp of you. He stroked your cock lazily, spreading his own cum over your length.

You lifted your lover up and turned around, sitting him against the headboard. You stood on the bed, looming over him with your big cock pressed against his cheek. “Ready for more?” You asked with a wolfish grin. Dick responded by taking the head of your cock in his mouth. You let Dick ease into it on his own, watching as he went from sucking the head to licking it all over, eating his own cum off your cock. However, your patience was not endless. You grabbed him by the jaw and let a finger trace along where his head and neck connected. Dick felt the tingle of the spell that temporarily disabled his gag reflex. He understood and his mouth fell open, eyes looking up at you expectantly.

You braced yourself against the wall and leaned forward to shove your cock inside Dick’s mouth as far as it would go. Though he could no longer gag, there were still limits to his human body, so it was simply impossible for him to take you balls deep. Not that it mattered. His throat bulged and you moved back again, gently fucking his throat at first. Dick kept looking up at you with those obedient eyes as if he had accepted his fate as permanent cocksleeve. It was hard to keep the pace gentle. Before you knew it, you were fucking his throat like it was all he was, just a cocksleeve. “Look at you, just taking my cock down your throat like you’re a human fleshlight,” you grunted as you pushed in a little past what you knew was Dick’s usual limit. His eyes watered, but he could not gag. When you pulled out, he gasped for air. While he was panting, you leaned down to lick the tears off his face that had formed.

Then you did it again and again, alternating between degrading Dick while you fucked his throat and letting him breathe while you sated your hunger with his tears. It was so hot, your lover taking it so well. However, you did not want to cum in his mouth or on his face. There was only one place your cum belonged. You pulled out and grabbed his hair, savouring the tears, before you roughly manhandled him onto his back. You bent him in two, knowing how flexible he was. Dick put his feet behind his head, hands on his ass to show you the best view. With a swipe of your thumb over his hole, Dick’s ass started producing slick based on how aroused he was. It was unsurprising that he immediately started leaking like you had already bred him full.

“Such a good, dumb, bitch. Look how fucking horny you are, even after I made you cum 3 times. You’re leaking like a slut.” Dick had no reply, not that he would have been able to say anything while you rammed your cock inside him. The slide was easy, but the stretch was so sudden. You did not start out with gentle thrusts this time, wanting it to hurt a little.

Dick had been prepped, but there was no amount of fingering that made taking your cock not bordering between pain and pleasure. He threw his head back, moaning and whining. “Breed me, please, please, I need to be full, please,” he begged and begged in between your harsh thrusts. The wall got a beating too as the headboard slammed against it and the bed creaked under you. Dick could not stop begging. You were tethering on the edge, but you wanted to see him cum once more.

Dick’s hard member twitched against his stomach. Not a single touch had been required. You grabbed Dick by the back of his head and pressed your foreheads together. “Cum for me, now.”

Dick shook his head as much as he could in your grip. “Together, please,” he begged, tears already forming in the corners of his eyes. You gave him an evil smile that showed your disagreement. “Please, you’ll keep going, I don’t know if I can…”

You cut him off with your free hand that grasped his cock. “I said now,” you growled. He howled as you mercilessly fucking him to orgasm with your hand and cock. You were impressed by the two drops of cum that still managed to come out of his cock. And then, of course, you kept going, fucking him balls deep while you stroked his cock. Dick screamed, his legs coming down, but between your foreheads pressed together and your cock in his ass, he had nowhere to go. He begged, a string of “please” endlessly spilling from his mouth. He writhed. He cried. His tears were delicious, filled with lust, desperation and pleasure.

You could not get enough of it, the flavour consisted of the most exquisite mixture of emotions that you ever tasted. However, you were not untouchable yourself. Dick came again, his ass spasming around your cock and your knot inflated, locking you in as you spilled your seed deep inside Dick. He could feel it, crying out as his walls were even stretched more by the influx of cum. You let go of his cock, watching his belly that clearly showed the outline of your cock inflate a little.

You wrapped his legs around your hips, trying to make him as comfortable as he could be, while waiting for your knot to go down. Meanwhile, you licked the remaining tears off him and stroked his hair. “There you go, so good for me, my love,” you whispered. You pecked his cheek, concerned by how Dick was still shaking and looking like he fought seven planets worth of evil aliens at once. His eyes were still closed, mouth open to catch his breath. “Say something, my love,” you murmured, concerned by his silence.

Dick’s body went slack and he finally opened his eyes to look at you. “Promise me something,” he spoke softly, voice a little hoarse. You nodded and let your hands wander, giving him gentle touches all over to comfort him. “I can’t actually die from too much pleasure, right?”

You tried to hold back your laughter, knowing that too much movement would be really hard on Dick’s ass right now. “Silly boy,” you mused as you leaned down for a loving kiss. Dick could not do much right now, but he still tried to reciprocate. “I would never let anything happen to my special human.”

Dick smiled and nodded. “Good, good…” He clearly wanted to say more, but did not have the energy for it. You did not press; he needed his energy for later.

#dick grayson #nightwing #Young Justice #dc #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #male reader #dick grayson x male reader #nightwing x male reader #dc x reader #dc x male reader #young justice x reader #young justice x male reader #young justice x you #demon reader

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bet-on-me-13 · 11 months

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Dp X Injustice AU's

So, we have seen the frankly insane about of Dp x Dc AU's that have been spawned over the years. But I never really see any Injustice AU's

And then I thought, which Dp x Dc AU would you actually use for an Injustice AU?

Let me give some examples:

Justice League Member Danny: Danny is a part of the Justice League by the time Superman goes insane. He decides to step in when Shazam is nearly killed by Superman, but gets hurt himself in the process and is thrown in jail. This causes some of Superman's supporters to doubt him, since Danny is just a 16 yr old kid and Clark nearly killed him.

Danny is sill a Solo Hero: Danny is still just a Solo Hero from Amity Park in this. When Superman takes over the world, he goes to Amity to try and recruit Phantom. Danny refuses, and they butt heads. Danny eventually promises that he will continue to just act as a small time Vigilante in return for not joining Batman's side. This changes years later, when Superman is responsible for the death of Jazz Fenton.

Danny is a "Villain": Danny is seen as a Villain because he is a Ghost. At least, that's what the outside world thinks, but the situation in Amity is different. Danny has been seen as a Hero for years now, it's just the rest of the world that doesn't want to accept that fact. So when Superman takes over the world, and tries to execute every Villain, he goes after Phantom. Only for the Entire Town to try and stop him.

@little-pondhead Everlasting Trio Villain AU: So, take Little Pondhead's Villain AU and put it in the Injustice Universe. Danny can be the insane megalomaniac Villain he always wanted to be and not feel guilty because this is a Dictatorship. (Although it does remind him of Dan before his parole). He just has fun, messing with Superman, building insane crazy inventions, messing with Superman, enacting fun Villain plots, messing with Superman, and of course messing with Superman. Meanwhile Superman is just having a horrible time because there is just this random Villain, doesn't even seem to have powers, and he Just. Can't. Catch Him! Batman is looking for Fenton to recruit, meanwhile Fenton is literally here to Not be a Hero. It gets even worse when he brings in his Friends and Ellie.

Danny is the Ghost King: Danny is the Ghost King by now, and Batman's side try to Summon Him to deal with Superman during the whole "Super Pills" event. He shows up just in time to save Green Arrow, but isn't trong enough to kill Superman. He himself gets extremely injured in the process and gets forcibly summoned back to the Ghost Zone to be healed. Now the entire Dimension is gearing up to attack the Living World as revenge for their King being so hurt.

Old Man Danny AU: My own AU. Danny is still an Old Man just living in Gotham when Superman takes over. At one of his rally's to try and garner support and stop the rebellions, Danny stands up in the middle of the crowd and calls him out on all his Bullshit. This causes the whole crowd to start yelling at Superman, which in turn causes Superman to have a Homelander Moment. He kills Danny, who just laughs as he falls to the floor, and causes a riot. What Superman doesn't know, is that Danny was slated to ascend to Godhood at the moment of his Death, so now he has a God of Death chasing him to fulfill his "need to be avenged" urges (its like hunger pangs for ghosts)

Danny as a Medium: Danny is a Traveling Ghost Speaker, like the guy you pay $5 to pretend to speak to your dead loved ones, but he can actually speak to them. Superman is patrolling the world, just making the rounds now that he had conquered the Earth, and comes across Danny's Tent. He stops by in curiosity and asks to speak to his dead Wife. Danny asks if he really wants to put himself through that, but Superman insists. So Danny, instead of just speaking for the Ghost like normal, actually Summons Lois Lanes Ghost to talk to Superman. They have a heartfelt conversation about how it wasn't his fault, and how he shouldn't blame himself, but eventually they get to the topic of Clark talking over the world. She isn't proud, but understands if this is what it takes for him to be happy. She leaves, and Superman is left finally second-guessing himself for the first time in years. Because it doesn't make him happy. (*ahem* Danny still wants to be payed, soooo......)

#Dp x dc #Dpxdc #Danny phantom #Dc #Dcu #Injustice #Injustice AU #A bunch of Injustice AU's #Villain Danny Phantom #Villain Fenton #Everlasting Trio Villain AU #Superman #Batman #Medium Danny Phantom #Ghost King Danny Phantom #Ghost King AU

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suzukiblu · 1 month

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WIP excerpt behind the cut; Clark panic-adopts his teenage clones (yes, including the supervillain one).

“Why does Superman have civilian clothes?” Match asks instead. Thirteen–pauses, then just shrugs.

“Ask him,” he says, which means he knows and is just being an asshole. Figures.

“More thorough scans would be helpful,” Jor-El says as they approach a very large . . . well, Match genuinely doesn’t know. It might be a computer. There’s a screen involved, at least. The rows of crystals underneath said screen are definitely not a part of any kind of “computer” he’s ever seen before, but it’s still the likeliest theory he’s got. “The infirmary is not currently optimized for cloned lifeforms, but we should be capable of extrapolation where necessary. And the Fortress’s programming is certainly familiar with Kryptonian-human hybrids, at this point.”

Match doesn’t respond, considering how obvious a statement that was. His genes are functionally identical to Thirteen’s, after all, so of course Superman’s already familiar with his physiology. Well–of course he’d have access to Thirteen’s files, more accurately.

“Um,” Thirteen says, frowning in confusion. “It is?”

Match cannot believe how incredibly stupid his gene donor is. Is Thirteen somehow under the impression that advanced alien technology can't access Cadmus’s files? Hell, the Agenda can get into those with minimal effort. Cadmus’s lab security is not impressive. He's walked right in the front door enough times at this point.

“It is, yes,” Jor-El agrees. “If you could hold still for a moment, please. Both of you, ideally. We may as well scan you as well, Kon-El.”

Match–frowns.

Wait. If the Fortress already has Thirteen's files, then why . . .

A pale blue-white light materializes from the crystals beneath the screen and pans over both him and Thirteen. He doesn't feel any hint of warmth from the light or hear anything, and there's no pain.

In addition to the pain he's already in, he means. Obviously.

The whole process seems very . . . simple, for a DNA scan. Not involved enough.

Not–what he would've expected.

That's all.

He assumes this is just a first step, and the actual analysis will involve something more invasive or–

“Scan complete,” Jor-El announces as the light flicks off. “Genetic profiles now on file for Kon-El and the as yet unnamed new member of the House of El currently classified as ‘Match’. Proper name impending.”

Match has absolutely no idea what to say to any of that.

“I think the AI is malfunctioning,” he says to Thirteen, who scowls at him.

“Rude much?” he says.

“It just called me a ‘member of the House of El’,” Match reminds him dubiously.

“. . . maybe Kal can run a virus scan or something,” Thirteen mutters under his breath with a grimace. Match resists the urge to roll his eyes. It's a gesture he only ever started doing to impersonate Thirteen anyway.

“All Fortress systems are currently running at peak performance,” Jor-El says like a malfunctioning AI would even be an accurate source, then gestures off to the side. “The basic medical supplies are this way. Please follow me.”

“The damage is minimal,” Match says. He's healed from worse without wasting medical supplies. The burns aren't even third-degree. Superman can't possibly want to spend actual resources on him, much less anything that would presumably need to be replaced or recharged later.

“Then treatment will also be minimal,” Jor-El replies matter-of-factly before heading off. “This way.”

He's definitely malfunctioning.

Thirteen follows Jor-El, though, and Match doesn’t know what else to do, so he does too. Either way he doesn’t want Superman to catch up when he’s by himself, so . . .

He doesn’t even know what Superman is doing right now, aside from presumably making whatever call he needed to make, and who knows what that’s about or for. Maybe he’s warning the Justice League about the likelihood of the Agenda causing problems for them, publicity-wise. Or . . . something to that effect, anyway.

They’ll take the opportunity to, he’s sure. The Agenda doesn’t miss opportunities like that.

The infirmary is sparse and open and both laboratory-bright and laboratory-sterile, but still . . . off, somehow. Something about it just seems . . . off.

Match isn’t sure what, exactly.

Maybe it’s just that he can’t smell blood or bleach.

Jor-El instructs him through using the cleaning wipes and disinfectant spray and strange alien bandages from the supplies–Match, like usual, uses his tactile telekinesis to keep himself from flinching when it hurts–and Thirteen tries to help, which is irritating. Match glowers at him until he backs off, which takes twice as long as it should.

Superman probably wouldn’t appreciate him killing Thirteen, after all the fuss. And Superman’s . . . in charge of him now, he thinks. Technically. Probably.

For now, at least.

The Agenda will want him back, so . . .

So for now, yes. Until the Agenda reclaims him and disposes of him as a failed experiment.

Superman would be–harder to reclaim him from, though. Harder than government custody. Maybe even harder than the Justice League in general, because Superman by himself doesn’t necessarily have to answer to the same specific pressures the whole League altogether would.

So if he does . . . whatever Superman wants him to do, exactly–if he does whatever makes Superman want to keep him, for whatever reason Superman decided he wanted to keep him to begin with . . .

He won’t be disposed of as soon, if he does that. Eventually Superman will change his mind and the Agenda will take him back, but–only eventually.

Not yet.

So he just needs to do that.

Match can do that. Superman can't be any harder to please than the Agenda. He . . . thinks he can't, anyway.

Superman tolerates Thirteen, so . . .

#wip: clark panic-adopts his teenage clones

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shadowsndaisies · 7 months

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codename: nightingale - usual suspects

Reference: Young Justice Season 1 Episode 25

WC: 7.4k

synopsis: fuck cadmus tbh, robin needs to work on his timing, kaldur’s got birdy’s back, and roy finally gets what he wanted

main masterlist

codename: nightingale series masterlist

a/n: guys, there's only one more in the season after this. i cannot belive my little hyperfixation fic of pure self-indulgence has come this far. i love you all so much and your support means so much, especially when i know that i go months without posting but you all come back so excited with each update! xoxo

WASHINTON, D.C.December 30th, 09:16 EST

You were all in the Hall. The mega screen before you shows the official Justice League Induction and announcement playing on every news channel. Wally and Dick were standing on either side of you, and all of you had your eyes glued to the screen.

“The Justice League was formed for two reasons: first, as an acknowledgment that no single individual, no matter how powerful, can solve all the world's problems alone. And second, to uphold the values of truth, liberty, and justice,” Superman was making the announcement this year. Usually, it was him or Wonder Woman, seeing as the Bat didn’t exactly exude charming. “That, uh, last one's even in the name,” Superman muses, gaining a few laughs from the crowd before him. “These five heroes have sworn to uphold those values,” he continues, and the camera pans over Doctor Fate, Plastic Man, the Atom, Icon, and finally, Red Arrow.

Your lip quirks a bit as you stare at Roy. he had sent you a message this morning, reminding you that you could be standing with him today, but you had just laughed and mused that with how badly he’d wanted this, it’s surprising anyone else can stand up there with him, never mind you, who would undoubtedly steal the spotlight. You were happy for him, you were, but you were also bummed. You all had just gotten into a groove with Roy on the Team, even if it was only for a few missions, and once again, he was gone.

“You are watching live coverage of the Justice League's induction of its five newest members,” Cat Grant’s voice pulls your focus back to the News. “Looks like the entire League has shown up to welcome the new blood. Everyone from Batman to Captain Marvel!” she exclaims.

“I’m glad they didn't kick Billy out,” Wally decides, and you can’t help but nod. Dinah had mentioned briefly that there had been a chance he wouldn’t be. “And I love the fact there's a ten-year-old on the League,” he says, taking a bite of his apple.

Dick hangs his head, and you see Kaldur turn toward your redheaded best friend while the new girl, Raquel, turns to you all, “There is?” she asks.

You elbow Wally squarely between his ribs, and he hunches over, “Ow, Birdy!” he groans.

“Way to keep a secret, genius,” you scoff, glaring at him through your blacked-out lenses.

“Hey, she's on the Team now, right?” Wally defends, one arm rubbing at his side while he eats his apple.

“Is this going to be a regular thing, you just blurt out secrets whenever we get new people?” you ask.

Wally has the audacity to look affronted, “I don’t-“

“You told me about the Watchtower,” Zatanna cuts in before he can say anything else, and you snort.

Wally retorts by taking another bite of his apple and glaring at you.

Everyone’s attention shifts back to the screen, “Superman is now handing out official League membership cards starting with Doctor Fate…” You and Dick both step forward briefly to squeeze Zatanna’s shoulder in solidarity, something she smiles gently in response to, and you can feel the comfort she takes from the action in the seconds you’re touching. “…The Atom, Plastic Man, and Icon.”

“You know, I was the one who convinced Icon to become a hero in the first place. I should be celebrating with him, not hidden away in here!” Raquel complains, and you bite your lip to keep from laughing.

“Welcome to our world,” Kaldur laments.

“Well, I suppose there's an upside, too,” Raquel flirts as she eyes Kaldur. Quietly to Rob, you roll your eyes and fake a gag, which gets a silent chuckle out of him.

“Finally, Green Arrow welcomes his former protege, Speedy, now known as Red Arrow, to this roster of heroes,” Cat’s voice continues, but it’s quickly drowned out by your cheers.

“Way to go, Roy!” Wally shouts, pumping a fist in the air.

“At last, he has his wish,” Kaldur nods.

“Woohoo!” you exclaim, smiling at the screen. “The first of us to make it,” you breathe.

“No one'll call him a sidekick anymore,” Dick nods.

“Wait- Since when is being a sidekick a bad thing?” Raquel demands, and you can feel the twinge in the air. “You sidekicks were my inspiration.”

“Well, see, six months ago-“ Robin explains, but he’s quickly cut off when his communicator starts to beep.

You hover over his shoulder to look at what he’s looking at and can’t help but frown. In the background, however, you can hear as Cat Grant finishes her report, “So there you have it. The world's officially a safer place!”

There are tons of questions being shot out to Superman, who was still running the press conference.

“Looks like we can’t stay,” you announce, and everyone turns to you.

“We have a mission,” Robin tacks on, and the shift is evident as we all turn to the Zeta.

SMOKEY MOUNTAINS December 30, 10:48 EST

“Are you sure it's her? I mean, are you absolutely positive?” Artemis asks, and it’s easy to pick up on her anxiety in the enclosed space of the bioship.

After the alert, you quickly got to the cave and changed before loading onto the bioship. The alert in question had been about a Cheshire spotting. After everything that’s happened in the last few months, especially in Taipei and then again in Louisiana, catching her was a top priority for the team.

“See for yourself,” Robin says, displaying the details on the screens in the bioship.

“This is the security footage from the Asheville Regional Airport. Facial recognition confirms that's Jade Nguyen,” you explain, having witnessed the details when they first came through Robin’s wrist computer. “But you've seen her without her mask. What do you think?”

Artemis stares at the screen for a second before her lips tug down, “It's Jade. Cheshire,” she confirms.

“Agreed, but focus on what she carries,” Aqualad hints. “Is that the case you saw in New Orleans? The one that got away?” He asks.

Artemis’ eyes harden, and her jaw sets, “Yes.”

“Okay, I'm guessing from the mug shot that this Cheshire's the bad guy. But what's so important about that case?” Rocket asks.

You have to bite back the urge to say you mean other than the fact that we fumbled the ball and lost it? Luckily, Robin speaks up first.

“Remember the Injustice League?” he asks, pulling up a photo of your friends from the bayou.

“And their giant evil plants? Uh, yeah,” Rocket confirms.

“Evil and Nasty plants,” you mutter lowly, glaring at the photo.

“The Team and the League put them in prison, but their allies still scheme, and whatever is in that containment case seems important to their plans,” Aqualad explains.

“We had a chance to grab it in New Orleans, but someone-“ Wally tacks on, but you interrupt him with a glare that he seems to miss as he focuses on Artemis.

“But we screwed up,” you correct. It was a team mission and the team’s attitudes and environment that culminated in what had happened. You weren’t going to place the blame squarely on Artemis.

Wally’s eyes dart to you, and you quirk a brow challengingly. He, in turn, scoffs and turns back to face the front instead.

“Approaching Cheshire's jet,” M’gann announces.

Everyone’s focus turns to the front, but when you get close enough, you let out a low gasp, and a wave of shock rolls over everyone at the scene of the downed plane. The crash had evidently been rough, but it’s a sharp note of grief that hits you that has you turning to Artemis, who is resolutely not staring at the crash anymore.

“Looks like there were no survivors,” M’gann notes, and your lips tug down as you try to assess the scene from the air.

“We need to go down,” you decide.

“NG-“ Wally’s scoff has everyone turning to you for an explanation.

“We need to check the wreckage,” you state.

“Are you serious?” Rocket asks, eyebrows raised.

“Cheshire and the case are our responsibilities, we check the wreckage,” you affirm.

It’s quiet for a moment before Kaldur speaks up, “open the hatches,” he agrees, and Wally lets out a puff of air, shaking his head, but stands up regardless.

M’gann opens a few drop hatches for those who can’t fly while the rest go ahead.

Soon enough, you’re spread out through the crash, analyzing anything you could find and looking for any indication that Cheshire was still in the plane when it went down or the case itself.

“How come Homeland Security and the N.T.S.B. Aren't all over this?” KF shouts, asking anyone.

“Cheshire's ID was a League alert,” you answer from where you’re crouched near the front of the plane, grabbing the black box and tossing it to Rob.

“Authorities didn't pick it up, and her jet didn't follow its flight plan,” Robin supplied.

“Flew under the radar, literally,” you note, standing back up.

“The Watchtower auto-tracked the jet and recorded the crash,” Robin continued.

“Then why isn't the League here?” Rocket pressed.

“Because our Boy Wonder has hacking skills and arranged to get the alert first,” Zatanna smirked. “Well that, and because Nightingale said to make it so,” she teases, gaining an eye roll from you.

“And because Cheshire and that case represent our unfinished business,” Aqualad corrects.

Superboy moves another part of the plane before asking the question that everyone had been wondering, “Where are the bodies?”

“Here's one. And it is stunning….” a voice all but purrs, grabbing everyone’s attention.

You can’t tell if you’re relieved or annoyed that Cheshire is standing tall, all in one piece, but you’re positive that this was the best outcome you could’ve hoped for, at least you were until the next voice pipped up.

“I am flora, not fauna,” the voice begins, and your gaze shifts as you spot the camouflaged ninjas along the mountainside. “I am foliage, not trees,” it continues, and your gaze keeps moving up, counting the adversaries before stopping on the man in green. “What am I?” The Riddler possesses his question, and you spot Shimmer and Mammoth behind him, too. He snaps his fingers, and suddenly, pylons are popping up from under the snow, and you groan at the realization.

Within seconds everyone is trapped underneath a green dome, “Seriously? A trap? We’re idiots,” you huff, soft enough for only Dick to hear, and he just shakes his head.

“Come on, you can get this. I am shrubbery, not grass. What am I?” The Riddler urges. “I…

“Am bush,” Robin grits, and you don’t hold back the groan that escapes this time.

“Didn't you think we'd be tipped you were on Cheshire's trail?” Riddler asked. “We're tired of your interference, kiddies. This is the end game. Ordered from above and executed by their master strategist, moi.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. There was something about Riddler that screamed Narcissistic Personality Disorder, but that could be something you picked up from Dinah’s files.

“Miss Martian, is everyone linked?” Aqualad asks, and the second you hear him, your hands reach back to your back holster, fingers wrapping around your escrima sticks. “Yes,” she confirms, and you make brief eye contact with Dick, tilting your head slightly to indicate a direction. He responds with the same small action in confirmation. “Go!” Aqualad orders, and everyone splits up.

Zatanna makes her move first while you and Dick rush up behind and around her, “Ekahs siht ebolgwons!” (shake this snowglobe) she chants. Within your pylon-ed dome, snow flurries, creating an excellent interference from any direct attack.

The rest of the team jumps into action, using the moment of surprise and confusion to take on the ninjas.

You’ve just knocked one down when Aqualad speaks up again, “Superboy, the pylons,” he orders, and you risk a glance toward your friend with the S.

“Working on it,” he announces out loud, and you focus back on the enemies before you.

“KF-- cradle?” you inquire as you run up, behind Wally. “Ready,” he confirms, turning and dropping down, proffering his hands.

You run up and, with no hesitation, step into Wally’s grip. He’s pushing your body up a second later, giving you enough air to wail your escrima sticks down on the underprepared shadow. It’s reassuring that Wally will always have your back, even in disagreements. As he falls, knocked out, you quickly scan the rest of the battle and manage to spot as Rocket gets hit.

“Rocket’s down, she needs an assist K, and we’ve got a Shadow two tiers up, with some sort of electric disk device, looks like fatherbox tech to me,” you inform the team.

Robin quickly gets up, knocks out the Shadow, and Kaldur moves for the disk. You almost move to help him when you spot a Shadow coming up behind him, but you see M’gann moving in. You turn back to take on another Shadow, this time with Dick at your back fighting his own, but you see it when Conner launches into the air. You’re waiting for gravity to start pulling him back, but it doesn’t.

“That’s impossible,” you note as you use the electricity feature on a Shadow, who then crumples at your feet.

Robin turns his head, and his eyes widen as he stares at what you are.

“SB, you're flying!” he gasps, and your eyes widen too when you catch him using heat vision a moment later.

In his rage, he seems to miss the results of his attack. Your gaze drops, and you can see the top of Artemis’ head.

“Avalanche!” you shout into the link, hoping she’d cleared out of the way in time. You really weren’t trying to relive the Arctic in the real world. It’s silent for a moment, and then your anxiety takes over, “ARTEMIS!” you’re screaming into the link. “I’m alright!” she confirms, and you let out a breath.

Rob taps your shoulder and gestures up to where Riddler’s still standing, and you nod. The two of you make your way up, targeting Shimmer and effectively knocking her out cold with a mix of a smoke grenade, Robin’s bola, and your well-aimed punch.

With Riddler’s focus on you and Rob, Zatanna floats behind him as the smoke clears, “Tekcajtiarts!” (straightjacket!) she announces, and Riddler’s suddenly restrained, unable to get free.

“No!” he shouts. “I am not the straightjacket type! I am strictly Belle Reve not Arkham!” Riddler argues.

Zatanna huffs out a, “Gag mih!” (gag him!) effectively silencing the Riddler's little tirade.

“Hey Rob, what is broken when you name it?” you ask, a shit-eating grin on your face as you crouch down beside Riddler, who only glares at you in return.

“Silence,” Robin smirks, earning Edward Nigma’s ire.

“Hguone htiw eht ebolgwons,” (enough with the snowglobe) Zatanna’s shout echos’s across the mountain, and suddenly the snow stops.

You all quickly work on the remaining pylons before loading the bioship with Nigma and the captured Shadows.

“Cheshire?” you ask out loud.

“Gone,” Artemis confirms.

“From you? Again?” Wally challenges. “That’s like the third-“

“Enough,” Kaldur cuts in quick. “We need to drop these prisoners off at Belle Reve and return to the Cave, I imagine, the League will want a debrief and an explanation.”

“I guess it’s a good thing, I got the case, though,” Artemis adds, and you can’t help but smile at her.

MOUNT JUSTICEDecember 30, 15:45 EST

You felt like he was staring right at you. Given the whiteouts of his mask, Batman could be glaring at any of you, “Tell me if this sounds familiar. You hacked League systems, disobeyed protocol, and endangered your lives,” he pauses.

You have to fight the wince when you catch Dinah’s eye. She’s standing behind Batman with Red Tornado and Martian Man-Hunter, and she’s got an eyebrow quirked as she stares straight at you.

“And your initiative resulted in the capture of three escaped felons proving Warden Strange runs Belle Reve as a cover for criminal activity…. Well done,” he affirms, and you let out a small breath, gaze darting over to Robin, who quirks his lips in a small smile, one you match.

“And then there's this,” he adds, forcing your attention back as he and Icon approach the case that Artemis had recovered, “Bio-technology integrated with some form of nano-circuitry.”

“Though I am unfamiliar with the species, the bio-component is clearly not of Earth,” Icon confirms.

“We'll take it to the Watchtower for further study,” Batman decides, and the Leaguers head back toward the Zeta.

Canary lingers before walking over to you, mostly everyone else disperses, but you can feel Wally and Kaldur behind you, and Dick’s still at your side.

“I get the feeling that this decision was not made on your own?” she inquires, staring at you.

“I have a team,” you reply loftily. “I don’t have to make these decisions on my own.”

“No, you don’t,” she smiles gently at you, running a hand across your cheek, and then turns to the boys, “and I’m glad to know you see it too.” She says nothing but offers you a pat on the shoulder and turns to the Zeta.

As soon as Canary and Icon zeta out, you turn to the team, shoulders set, “You realize we were set up,” your tone is even, despite the worrisome nature.

“Yes,” Aqualad confirms. “Cheshire and Riddler were tipped and ready for us.”

“They knew we were looking for her, specifically,” you point out, and you can’t help the way your gut swoops.

“Not the mole thing again,” Artemis groans, and your lips turn down. How was it that Roy got to move on, but you were still battling the same demon.

“Mole thing?” Rocket asks, concerned. “Again?”

“We had intel that there was a traitor on the Team,” Wally explains, tone resigned.

“Namely, Artemis, M'gann, or me,” Conner huffs, his bravado cutting through as he steps forward with clenched fists and levels a glare at you specifically.

“It is more complicated than that,” Kaldur argues, placing a hand on Conner’s shoulder.

“And we-“ you gesture between you and Kaldur “-never said that, we only tried to look into the claim to see if it were true,” you argue.

Conner scoffs and shoves Kaldur’s hand away, turning to leave, “But your recent behavior does concern me,” Kaldur adds, following after him. “Your attack on Mammoth nearly got Artemis killed.”

Conner doesn’t respond, though he does stop for a moment. When he winces, your brow furrows, “Conner?” you call cautiously.

“There’s something I need to do,” Conner says, turning back to face you, but his tone is wholly different. “Something I need to tell you,” he admits, and you shift as you pick up the unease of everyone in the room. “Last month, on Thanksgiving, I went back to CADMUS and found a few things out.” Your eye twitches slightly at the mention of CADMUS, but you fight to keep your expression neutral. “When I was cloned, only half the DNA was Superman’s. The other half was human,” he admits, and there’s a shift from everyone else. “That's why I don't have, will never have, full Kryptonian powers.”

Your brow furrows, thinking about what you’d seen today, “You sure? Because you sure seemed to have them today,” Robin teases, voicing your thoughts.

“I've been using these,” Conner says, pulling up his sleeve and showing a patch, “Shields. They suppress my human DNA. I get the flight, the heat-vision, but I think I also get angry. Well, angrier… I’m… sorry,” he explains and only one question comes to mind.

“Conner, where did you get those?” you ask, voice lethal.

Conner winces at the question and your tone but meets your gaze. There’s an honesty there that hasn’t existed in a while, a calmness that stems from finally unloading the truth, “From my human father… Lex Luthor.”

There’s an audible intake of breath from someone behind you, and everyone’s eyes are blowing wide, but you? You’re fuming because if Lex Luthor had that much reach, it meant he must have been the silent bankroller for CADMUS, which in turn means Lex Luthor was responsible for the death of your parents, and that? That was not something you’d be letting go of, not now, not ever.

“Lex Luthor, is your dad?” Dick asks. The surprise is evident, and if not for the topic, it would’ve been a moment to commemorate, catching the Boy Wonder off guard.

“He's summoned me to Santa Prisca,” Conner continues.

The silence is deafening. Your shoulders tense as you try to gather your thoughts, and as you open your mouth to say something about Conner’s decision to keep these things secret, Artemis speaks up.

“Ahhh, listen,” she sighs. “Superboy’s not the only one suffering from bad DNA,” she admits, and you tense further, turning to look at the blond. She pulls up three IDs on the holo-computer before beginning. “My mother is Huntress, an ex-con. The rest of my family aren't even ex. My dad's Sportsmaster, and he's sending my sister, Cheshire, to fly me to Santa Prisca, too.”

You gape at the screen, but it all makes sense: her need to prove something, her secrets, her mother’s desperation, even the reason why Cheshire always seemed to escape when up against Artemis.

“That's why-“ Wally’s voice cracks, and you’re hit with a wave of understanding and regret from the speedster as he stares at the archer.

“Yeah,” she mutters. “I was so desperate to make sure none of you found out. “

“I knew you weren’t GAs niece, but-“ you mumble but stop as eyes shift to you.

“I knew,” Dick negates, and Artemis’ eyes blow wide, and you can’t help but gape at him. “Hey, I'm a detective!” he defends but quirks a smile, “But it never mattered. You aren't your family. You're one of us,” he reminds her.

“You always have been,” you manage to choke out, “nothing to prove,” you remind her, and you can see how the tension melts away from her.

Wally pushes forward and stops beside her. He hesitates on what to say but eventually settles for a small smile, propping an arm on her shoulder and jokingly asking, “So who's next?”

“I am,” comes the somber response from M’gann, and for the first time since the start of these revelations, you watch as she seems to curl up into herself.

“I swear I was kidding,” Wally says desperately, hands up in surrender.

“Queen Bee's been blackmailing me. She wants me in Santa Prisca too,” she admits.

“Blackmailing?” Kaldur repeats as if he hadn’t heard her correctly.

“How?” you press. Your voice is rough, and you notice how M’gann’s not the only one to flinch at it.

“She knows my… true… Martian form,” M’gann admits, but the way she says it makes it seem heavier than your first instinct.

“Bald M'gann? Who cares if-“ Robin wants to make a joke, to lighten the mood, but M’gann cuts him off, and before she shifts, you know why: Bald M’gann had been another cover for a secret she hadn’t been ready to share.

“No,” she interrupts, taking a deep breath before shifting.

If you thought the reactions to Luthor being Conner’s human dad were extreme, it was nothing to how almost everyone reacted to M’gann’s true form. She stood before you, a towering creature, a White Martian. While your information was limited, you had enough to assemble a theory.

You fought not to react, to stand firm and impassive beside Kaldur, just as he did. The only other person not to react was Conner.

There’s a whispered “woah” from Rocket as everyone else releases startled gasps.

“I realized you would never accept me if you saw what I really am,” M’gann tells us, and you ache for her. You struggled sometimes balancing Nightingale and (y/n) Roxo. You couldn’t imagine having kept your true self a secret from everyone, having no one to turn to. It had to have been incredibly draining and lonely… so lonely. Your anger was fading with each revelation, but there was one point where you were still stuck.

“M’gann, did we truly seem so shallow?” Kaldur inquires, and though he sounds the same, you can hear the hurt in his words, the edge you recognize as him questioning his abilities in setting the tone of his leadership.

M’gann crosses her arms, her gaze cast down. Dinah called that stance protecting by avoidance, “I couldn't take a chance,” M’gann admits. “Being a white Martian among the green on Mars, I endured constant rejection….I couldn't face that from-“

“From me?” Conner asks, carefully stepping forward and taking her hand.

The way they stare at each other is enough to tell that they are now having a more private conversation. Dick takes the opportunity to grab your shoulder, forcing you to turn to him, Kaldur doing the same.

“Now might be a good time for anyone else to share secrets regarding CADMUS,” he hints, and your lips part- he hadn’t even bothered to whisper.

“What are you talking about?” Zatanna’s question echoes from behind him, but you standing stock still, staring at him.

“You must be joking,” you hiss as you shrug out of Dick’s grip.

“C’mon, Birdy,” he urges, and you feel Kaldur’s hand on your shoulder.

You shrug off Kaldur, too, before spinning on your heel, pushing past Artemis and Wally and to the computer. Your hands shake a bit while you type, but you pull up everything you have; the news article about your parent’s death, the report on your blood from Dinah and Bruce, and the readings on the genomorphs at CADMUS. You take a deep breath before turning back to everyone now looking at you and at everything you’ve pulled up, eyes jumping between each article and report.

You sniff before reaching into a compartment of your belt and pulling out a mask adhesive dissolution wipe. When you start pulling at your mask, there are a few wide eyes, and when your glare lands on Robin, all he does is smile in return.

“My name is (y/n) Roxo, and when I was six years old, I witnessed the murder of my parents,” you begin. Everyone but Kaldur and Robin focus on you with lips parted and wide eyes. “They were Wayne Enterprises scientists, brilliant actually. They noticed some discrepancies with a project in the labs, cover-ups, and false reports. One had to do with an instance when I was in their lab and was accidentally exposed to whatever the project had been focused on,” You begin. “When we went to CADMUS on the Fourth of July, something about the genomorphs seemed familiar. I later discovered that’s because when I was young, I was exposed to a replication of their abilities, the beginnings of the research that led to the cloning capabilities. It’s what gave me the empath abilities and why J’onn thinks I could manifest further powers, just like the genomorphs have,” you explain.

“Which is why you looked like you were about to whip out some kryptonite when SB here said Luthor was his dad,” Artemis pieced, gaze jumping toward you and Conner. “Because CADMUS-“

“Because CADMUS is his project, and he funded, orchestrated- he was responsible for my parents murder,” you affirm, eyes meeting Conner’s.

“Holy shit,” Wally mumbled, and you couldn’t help but agree.

Conner was staring straight at you despite how focused he had been on M’gann only moments before. His blue eyes were wide as he stared straight at you, his lips parted but closed, and then his expression shifted as he took in the rage in your eyes and again when he saw the hurt. His shoulders sag slightly, and he slowly takes steps forward until he is right in front of you.

“I- I’m so sorry, Bir- (y/n),” he stutters over your name for a second, and you want to hold onto the anger. You want to be mad at him, but his eyes are so open and honest with you right now, and you’re reminded of the Conner who saved you from Cadmus back in July, the one who wanted to do good, to be good.

“It’s not okay, but I don’t… I don’t blame you,” the fact that your blame fell squarely on Lex Luthor went without saying.

He offers a curt nod, “a problem for later?” he adds quietly, and you give a silent nod in affirmation.

“So uh.. I know I’m new, but what now?” Rocket asked, and everyone’s eyes jumped from person to person, waiting for someone to speak up.

“We know that CADMUS has played a much larger role than any of us anticipated when we began this team six months ago, and we know that Superboy, Artemis, and Miss Martian are all expected at Santa Prisca,” Kaldur begins, and everyone’s attention shifts to him. “So we go as a team. Prepared for whatever they may throw at us. The backroom deals and secret alliances end today.”

SANTA PRISCADecember 30, 17:57 ECT

“Superboy’s about to make contact,” M’gann’s voice echoes as everyone focuses on the exchange.

You and Robin were in the bioship with M’gann. At the same time, Kaldur, Wally, Rocket, and Zatanna had taken discreet positions on the island, each of you waiting for the call.

You could feel Robin staring at the back of your head, but you ignored him instead of focusing on what was happening on the ground below you.

“Welcome, Superboy,” Lex Luthor’s voice sets you on edge the second you hear it. Still, you force yourself to watch as Suberboy dismounts the Supercycle. “I'd like to introduce you to my associate, Queen Bee.”

Even though it was expected, your heart begins to speed up a bit in reaction to the developments, “My pleasure,” she greets.

“I believe you know everyone else. Sportsmaster, Mercy, Blockbuster. And our new friend Bane, who's allowed us use of his island in exchange for certain considerations,” Luthor introduces as everyone around him steps forward.

“No one wanted to listen when I said following Bane was a bad idea, and here we are,” you huff into the link, but the rest are silent.

“So the Injustice League was just a distraction. You two have been behind everything from the start,” Conner surmises, painting his expression with shock.

“Heh, a flattering notion, son, but we have many friends,” Luthor sidesteps, and your skin crawls at the way he calls SB son.

“This one of your friends now?” Conner asks as a helicopter begins to approach and then as it lands.

“No, my boy,” Luthor smirks. “One of yours.”

Conner glares at the copter until the door slides open, “Artemis?” the name rings out with a tone of shock, and you roll your shoulders, trying to force yourself to relax.

To her credit, she plays her role well, “The hero thing wasn't working out. You get how it is. No trust,” she scoffs, seemingly indifferent to the developments around her. “This is where I belong,” she adds, and you flinch.

“You’re up, Miss M,” you announce, and she backs the bioship up a bit, making a circle around the island and de-camouflaging the bioship before parking it in the air above the group.

“It's a fast-growing club,” Queen B announces as M’gann descends to the ground.

You reach for the rope, securing yourself to the repeller in preparation for when you’ll all be making your move.

“So… you’re just going to ignore me?” he asks cautiously.

Your glare sharpens in his direction, but it’s difficult to make out with your mask back.

“I know you’re upset that I-“

“Upset? Dick, I’m furious, you pushed me into revealing things they didn’t need to know! Things I trusted you enough to share about, privately!”

“They needed to know!” he argues. “(y/n) you consistently come to the rescue, you throw your life on the line for us, you did it in the Bayou, you did it for Wally in Seattle, you did it last week for me in the Circus. You do it all the time, because you know these things about everyone, you know when they need the support, but no one- outside of Kaldur and I, even had the slightest inclination. They needed to know, because today is more than the conspiracy of the last six months. Today could be the end, of it all, for you. Today could be the answers you’ve been looking for since Dinah took you in.”

“It wasn’t your call to make,” you hiss.

“No, it wasn’t. But this team fights better, fights stronger, when it’s united, and you’ve always been able to make us get our shit together better than anyone else can,” he sighs.

You glare at him but refuse to respond, and his shoulders drop.

“Why are they here?” M’gann’s startled gasp forces you both to look back to the ground from your spots within the ship. “You promised!” she cries.

“I’ve kept your secret and my promise,” Queen B argues, tone deadly. “Now, you keep yours,” when M’gann ducks her head, the monarch smirks, “Good girl.”

“Give me more shields, and I'm in, too,” Conner decides, and your lips twitch down. Espionage was not his forte.

Luthor walks closer and stares at Conner briefly before smirking, “My boy, you're a terrible liar.”

Conner’s eyes blow wide before winding back for an attack. However, before he can, Luthor plays his card, “Red Sun.”

Conner does well with his role. His entire body relaxes, face falling flat, arms hanging limply at his side as he stands straight with a muted expression, staring at Luthor.

“What do you want us to do?” Artemis asks, stepping forward, prodding the meeting along.

Luthor nods his head once, and Sportsmaster gestures to Artemis and M’gann. “You two, follow me.”

“What about Superboy?” M’gann asks, eyes sliding to Queen B.

“He'll be fine. He simply requires a few adjustments…” she trails off.

Everyone but Superboy begins to follow after Sportsmaster, “Bring him along,” Luthor orders, and Blockbuster moves toward Conner.

Your breath catches as you wait to see what happens. You’d all agreed that it’d be Artemis, M’gann, or Conner’s call on when to move, given they were the three in the thick of it. So when Artemis starts running forward, bow in hand before shooting at Blockbuster, trapping him for the moment, before turning around and aiming at her father.

“Sorry, Dad. Wanted to play you like you tried to play me but I can't let them mess with Superboy's head!” she shouted.

“M'gann, be a dear and take Artemis down,” Queen B orders.

You look at Rob as you both step up to the drop-hole.

You let out an audible groan as you stare at the boy across from you, “After,” is all you say.

He nods in affirmation, “milkshakes?” and you nod in agreement.

M’gann lifts Artemis in the air but then uses the distraction to fling Queen B backward and into a tree. She falls to the ground unconscious, and you wait for the verbal confirmation. Artemis shoots a shot at her dad, and then M’gann lets her down.

“Queen Bee is down,” M’gann confirms. “Superboy, you're safe from her control.”

"I may not be much of a liar, but I fooled you,” Conner announced as he approached Luthor.

“And I'm so proud,” Lex states sarcastically. “I take it Miss Martian cleaned Red Sun from your mind?”

“And confirmed Nightingale, Aqualad, Robin and Kid Flash rescued me from Cadmus before you had time to install any other programming,” Conner shoots back.

Luthor sighs, “All true. Personally, I blame Dr. Desmond.”

As if verbally queued, Blockbuster frees himself from Artemis’ trap, charging at Superboy.

You observe as Bane’s goons start engaging, and the supercycle quickly lays down cover fire while SB gets busy with Blockbuster.

Artemis and M’gann alternate between defense and offense until, “Guys, reinforcement time,” the blonde calls.

Rocket and Wally are the first two to make it to everyone, and you glance at Rob, “Ready?”

“Go,” he confirms, and you both drop-down, trusting the rope and the bioship as you go. You yank the stop when you’re only a few feet off the ground, and both you and Robin stop abruptly before releasing yourselves, dropping to the ground and landing agilely on your feet.

You take a second to scan your surroundings. You spot Kaldur facing off with Luthor and his assistant, an unconscious Queen B in his arms. You turn instead to take on some of the goons. You and Rob were methodical in knocking down person after person, you hear the cocking of a gun behind you, and you turn with wide eyes,

“Ekoms dna srorrim!” (smoke and mirrors!) Zatanna chants and the gun turns to smoke, which then turns into a giant serpent, winding its way around the goon’s body. “Egnahc ekans otni sgnidnib!” (change snake into bindings); she continues, and the snake becomes a rope.

You’re frozen in surprise for a second, but that’s knocked away when Bane appears and charges at Robin, Zatanna, and you simultaneously.

“Shit!” you manage to grit out in surprise.

Your hands start moving blindly, a hand going to your hip where your grapple is. You quickly twist the cord out of the gun before whipping it and your arm out to the side in an arc. The tensile strength of the cable is enough to stop Bane as he falls forward with the three of you.

You and Rob push him off and to the side. Robin covers you while you quickly peek at Zatanna, who seems knocked out. You look up in time to see Bane get back up and start fighting with Robin. You're on your feet when he gets pushed back, facing off against Bane.

“Hola Chicita, it’s been some time,” he teases, head tilting down at you.

“Not nearly long enough, Bane,” you huff.

“Etaerc Elagnithgin Snoisulli!” (create nightingale illusions) Zatanna’s rushed chant whips through you, and you can feel the prickle of her magic as it washes over you, and suddenly, there are dozens of you all facing Bane.

Bane’s surprise is visible as he scans each and every duplicate of you. "Gotta love an army of NG,” Rob smirks as he pushes himself up.

You smirk in return and pull out your ring daggers, several duplicates doing the same or arming themselves with escrima sticks and marble bombs before you’re all running at Bane. He gets distracted by the ones jumping up at him directly and misses when the true you slip around him with one of your blades out. You cut through his tubes of Venom, weakening him. Then you turn with an escrima stick crackling with electricity and plant it firmly at the base of his neck, watching with satisfaction as it brings him to his knees and then as he collapses.

You pull back, and with the moment you have, you take in a deep lungful of air, finally able to breathe. As you look around, you realize the fighting has stopped. Artemis and KF are standing by an unconscious and tar-trapped Sportsmaster. Superboy, Miss M, and Rocket are posted up by Blockbuster. You stare down at Bane as you realize who isn’t still here, and Robin joins you a second later.

“NG?” his voice is hesitant, as he notices how you’re gripping your escrima stick and dagger, your body tense, as you stare at Bane.

“He got away,” your voice cracks as you say it, and your fists clench tighter. "Luthor-"

When Robin touches your shoulder, you both recoil quickly; his lips part as he stares at you and his hand.

“I.. I felt-“

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, tugging on all the strings threatening to burst free, trying to cram your emotions back in their place to keep them from leaking out and affecting everyone around you. You drop your weaponry, hugging yourself as you try to compact your feelings.

A different hand lands on your shoulder. When you turn your head, you see Kaldur beside you. You can feel yourself unraveling just as fast as you attempt to stuff it all down.

“Stop,” you say as you attempt to shrug him off.

“It is okay to feel angry, my friend,” he reminds you, eyes burning with the same rage you feel, and you know in that second that it is the same rage, it is your rage, that he’s taking it on, for you.

“Kaldur, stop, that’s not- you shouldn’t-“ you huff, but with each move back, he follows, until suddenly he’s holding you in a tight hug, and you can’t move anymore. “Stop,” you beg, gripping on to his arms.

“Allow us to help, epitrépste mou na sikóso aftó to város. stiríxou páno mou, chrisimopoíise ti dýnamí mou, méchri na anaktíseis ti dikí sou. Eímai statherós, paliós fílos. (let me carry this burden. lean on me, use my strength, until you regain your own. I am steady, old friend).”

His words wash over you, and you finally do that. You stop pushing against the bits that are bleeding. You can feel Kaldur stiffen when he finally feels the whole barrage of your emotions, but quickly, he tightens his hold on you. When tears start to fall from both of you, all you can do is sag into him in relief.

“Den eínai díkaio. Xéfyge. Tha éprepe na eínai edó. Tha éprepe na logodotísei gia ta enklímatá tou, ton rólo tou. Échoun fýgei kai eínai exaitías tou. Eímai tóso kourasménos kai tóso thymoménos, to niótho óli tin óra kai prospathó tóso sklirá na min to afíso éxo. Allá giatí eínai eléftheros?” (It's not fair. He got away. He should be here. He should have to answer for his crimes, his role. They're gone and it’s because of him. I am so tired and so angry, I feel it all the time, and I try so hard not to let it out. But why does he get to be free?) the words tumble from your lips in sobs of atlantean.

Part of the truth you’re admitting was too raw to admit to everyone else, none of the sidekicks had ever seen your anger, your rage— Kaldur had. Kaldur was the one who he lped you learn how to manage it. He was the one who taught you, the one who showed you how to channel it into something better.

“Thýmose, Poulí, tha diatiríso tin isorropía kai gia tous dýo,” (Be angry, Bird, I will maintain the balance for us both) he answers, his voice as calm as ever, and you can’t help but marvel at him, how he can hold your anger, your hurt, your rage, but present as calm, and keep it from seeping out when you can’t do anything but make a mess.

You know the team’s watching. You know they’re concerned and want to tell them it’s okay, that you’re okay, but you’re not. You know that. Dinah would know what to say and how to tell the team that they did a good job and that they should enjoy the win, but you can’t. You can’t tell them that you can’t enjoy it, not when the mastermind of it all managed to escape.

Quietly, Kaldur helps you back onto the Bioship. Vaguely, you hear the conversations happening around you.

“It is always like this,” Rocket scoffs, dropping into her seat.

“Told you,” Wally chimes, but you can feel his gaze on you.

“Hey, disaster averted. Feeling the aster,” Robin muses as he settles next to you but keeps a distance.

“Agreed, this has been a good day,” Kaldur nods, fists clenched as he turns to you, “but it is not the end.”

“No,” you ground out in confirmation, and you can feel the promise in his words, “it’s not.”

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nerdpoe · 9 months

Text

In the Shadow of Speculation Part 1

Part 2, Ao3

Daniel Nightingale, ex Fenton, moves to Gotham for a fresh start. It's next to his friends, it's so very different from Amity Park, and Lady Gotham has promised her Knights will protect him. The world as he knew it has changed, and no longer has a place as a combat hero. Not when he's more likely to flinch than to dodge, not when the sight of a knife is enough to force him back to a time and a place he never wanted to see again. In an attempt to adapt, Danny turns to being a specialized hero-medic; his sole focus is helping and evacuating, not fighting. Except that no one told him Death Energy had the same reading to Geiger counters as gamma radiation. It isn't, but apparently Geiger counters can't tell the difference.

Danny Nightingale plopped down on his new couch, taking a moment to breathe in that new apartment smell. It was a pleasant, three bedroom apartment in a relatively nice area of Gotham.

Well, nice for ghosts. Specifically, the sheer amount of emotions around the place, both past and present, made it an ideal spot for a healing ghost to situate himself.

Danny felt that the more important point was that he finally had a place to himself.

He was tired of everyone coddling him, acting like he was going to break if he was even touched wrong. But luckily, Gotham was so far away from any kind of city his family would want to visit that he was free to dodge their nannying.

When he had woken up from the…Accident, it was to a political shitstorm; the Infinite Realms had been gearing up for war, and surprisingly Dan had been the only thing stopping them. The negotiations between dimensions had been a nightmare, especially with the sheer amount of effort it took to keep the Justice League’s nose out of his business, but it had been worth it.

Ghosts were considered sapient entities, were acknowledged to be from essentially a different country/dimension, and the ghosts that lived on Earth and had been negatively affected by the laws that were in place were entitled to compensation for the violation to their persons.

Added bonus, Danny could stay.

The first place he had chosen had been Gotham; it was close to Sam and Tucker, and had just the right dosage of occult to meet Frostbite’s strict ecto-therapy regimen.

That, and Lady Gotham had extended an invitation.

The move had been insane, for multiple reasons.

Vlad had insisted on coming along, something about verifying that Danny wasn’t about to live in a hovel.

Vlad actually caring-in his own way-was still so weird to Danny.

But at least it had been entertaining; every single time Vlad had stepped out of the car to get something from the gas stations, he kept getting mugged.

Another headache was the fact that, on moving day alone, there were three separate rogue attacks, and traffic had backed up so badly Danny was almost convinced to blow his cover and just fucking fly to his new place.

Which would be the last thing Dan needed-someone with his powers cropping up in a city on the other side of the country. Dan had enough on his plate with his whole…thing he’d decided on doing; the world as a whole declaring that his natural born nemesis was opposite sides of the country would throw a wrench in his rehabilitation.

The man had enough problems.

Like Danny had enough problems, but strangely only when Vlad was around.

The car Vlad had been driving had hit every single pothole and broken both axles, and overall Danny had the sense that Vlad should probably have never set foot in the city.

Honestly, the absolute second Vlad had left the move had gone much smoother.

Like, Danny had still had to pay the movers extra for the rogue attacks, vicinity to crimes (thanks Vlad for getting mugged so often that the muggers just started taking clothing items), and traffic; but after his Godfather had left it had been done in about two hours flat.

Did he still have to unbox his belongings? Yes. Was he going to do that at that particular moment?

Danny flopped sideways and brought his cell phone up to his face.

No. No, he was not.

He was going to take a breather, fall asleep on his new couch, read the news and watch some random memes, and enjoy his Restitution Money.

Danny had only been scrolling on his phone for two minutes when he fell asleep.

~~~~~~

Danny woke up to the sounds of muffled screams.

“Well that’s never good,” He muttered as he tried to roll over. He landed on the floor instead.

Right.

He hadn’t put the bed together yet.

Groaning, Danny pushed himself up for the purpose of hunting down where he’d put his poptarts. Only once he’d opened a box and started digging through it did he realize that the muffled screams were not coming from his definitely dead phone.

They were coming from outside.

Danny tripped over his feet as he bolted for the window, pressing his face against the glass as he stared down at the streets in disbelief.

The streets were filled with a green, noxious gas. People collapsed onto the ground only to scream and claw at their own faces. Some were attacking others, and anyone who left to assist had gas masks on.

Not that the masks did much good, considering the citizens who had been dosed would freak out and rip it off of them.

Batman and Red Hood were on scene, but they were so focused on cornering and catching the freak in the scarecrow costume that the only one able to assist the civilians was Robin. Unfortunately, as well trained as Robin was, there were too many.

Robin was doing the best he could, Danny could see that, but he was clearly over-burdened and needed assistance.

Danny…was appalled. This was the most ineffective rogue fight he’d ever witnessed.

When he’d been in charge of Amity, his citizens had only rarely been caught in the crossfire, and he never had a casualty. But here was one of the Big Leaguers and his cohorts, and they couldn’t arrange for the civilians to be treated or get to safety.

Danny, with no means to protect himself and unsure of how the gas would effect him, a halfa, could only watch from the window of his sixth story apartment.

Twenty minutes.

It had taken Batman and Red Hood twenty minutes to take down Scarecrow.

Danny had watched the whole thing.

Twenty minutes, thirty-two injured, nine dead, twelve critically injured.

And Danny, tied by the red tape of bureaucracy and his own trauma, hadn’t been able to do anything.

~~~~~~

A day later, full of unpacking and getting his apartment set up while he ignored the sounds of the emergency workers outside his window, Danny couldn’t stop seeing the attack.

There was so much room for improvement, but Batman apparently didn’t have anyone specifically trained in only defense and evacuation.

Danny had been so, so lucky for Sam and Tucker and Jazz. They had tag-teamed it; one of them would help him fight, the other two would evacuate civilians.

Batman was good at what he did, Danny could not deny that.

But there was room for improvement that was just…there. It was right there.

Danny couldn’t offer his services as Phantom. He couldn’t. He just…every time he thought about donning his old hero moniker, he’d start remembering.

If he started remembering, he became useless until he was able to remember that he was still alive.

And being a combatant, in and of itself, was highly…dissatisfying.

No sleep, constant injuries, threat of exposure hanging over his head; Danny’d had enough in high school. He had a whole life separate from that, in a city so big and problematic that just donating used clothes was enough to save someone’s life.

He was doing better. He could finally sleep without nightmares, people reaching out to touch him didn’t make him flinch, and he was away from a town of people who had made his childhood a living hell even before he’d had the Accident.

He refused to ask Dan to step in; the man was needed where he was, and Danny couldn’t drag away a teacher from his students.

Ellie was in college, and Danny wasn’t about to interrupt her education to drag her into the vigilante lifestyle she never even showed real interest in.

On top of his many, many other reasons for just not wanting to get into fights anymore.

Instead he took his frustrations out on kneading the dough on his counter.

His phone buzzed.

Ellie Omggggggggggg I don’t know what’s so hard??? Just bully Dan into doing it!

Danny snorted and allowed his hands to go intangible, the dough stuck to his fingers sliding back onto the counter, before he touched his phone to reply.

Danny Omggggggggg I literally can’t do that P sure ur the only one who can bully him He’s a pushover but only 4 u

He set his phone down and continued stress-baking. Ellie would take a bit to respond, since she wasn’t even supposed to have her phone on her at work.

But apparently Ellie had decided that she did not care.

Ellie Lies and slander He’s scared of me I just know it Also imma kill my customers

Danny Don’t commit murder Diplomatic immunity only goes so far I don’t need an inter-dimensional incident

Danny Ellie? Ellie no Don’t actually kill a human

Ellie This dude won’t get off my call He’s so annoying danny I gotta I I’m gonna do a ring

Danny Ellie NO

Ellie Ellie yes brb

Ellie stopped responding after that, and Danny groaned.

She was absolutely going to cause an inter-dimensional incident.

~~~~~~

Ellie was going to cause an inter-dimensional incident.

But it wasn’t her fault!

The stupid caller-Kent or whatever-was being a total ass!

“Sir,” she tried, one last time, “I cannot assist you with this matter. Either you let me transfer you to someone who can, or I’m going to crawl through this phone and kick your ass.”

“Tt. Even if you were a meta capable of such a feat, I highly doubt you could best me in combat.”

“I warned you.”

Ellie let her form fall away, distantly hearing the screams of her coworkers, and traveled through the phone connection.

Her arm burst from the cell phones ear piece and clocked someone across the face. Then she let the rest of herself crawl through, as eldritch as she could make it without actually driving anyone insane.

There was a scream of terror on her right, but she only had eyes for the tanned asshole in front of her with the bloody nose.

Then she let loose on him.

Surprisingly, he managed to block most of her attacks once he came to his senses.

Most of them.

She just started cheating after that and phasing through his hands to connect to his body.

There was a brief moment where the terrified one to her right tried to intervene, but both she and the Kevin kicked him in the face with a joint “Stay out of this!”.

He stayed out of it.

After fifteen minutes of rough-housing, which was what it had definitely turned into, Ellie wiped the blood away from her nose and held out her hand to the man she was sitting on.

“That was a nice fight; the names Ellie.”

The man paused, hesitated…and shook her hand.

“It was admirable. I am Damian.”

“Um…” Ellie and Damian both turned to look at the other man in the room, a blue eyed black haired carbon copy of her brother almost. But like, younger.

“I’m Jon. You kick pretty hard!”

“Thanks! Well I am definitely fired. What was the real reason for calling, anyways?”

Damian sat up and forced Ellie to fall off of him, his face slowly turning red.

“I didn’t realize that my dad’s card would get charged when I made an app store purchase,” Jon admitted quietly, “Damian was trying to annoy customer service into canceling the transaction so dad wouldn’t find out.”

Ellie wheezed from her spot on the ground, laughing harder when Damian turned and left the room in a huff.

“So…is that something you could go back and-?”

“You’re so fucked my dude.”

~~~~~~

Danny checked his care package while he waited for the Arkham guards to finish verifying his visitation rights.

Muffins? Check. Pretzels? Check. Cookies? Check. Donuts? Check. Fudge? No.

Danny still hadn’t been able to make himself use his father’s recipe.

He wasn’t sure when he would be able to.

It looked like when the guards had checked everything for escape tools they hadn’t eaten anything.

Danny felt strangely offended by that.

“Alright, you’re clear. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Danny sighed, walking away from the last semblance of normalcy and into what could only be described as hell for the mentally stable.

Arkham was a place that radiated the pull to help, the pull to heal, but was overrun by lifetimes of grudges nothing short of burning the place down would ever be able to fix.

It was, unfortunately, the only place capable of holding his parents.

Who he could hear as they were led to the visitation rooms.

“Danny!” Maddie Fenton cried, attempting to throw herself at him. The chain that was held by her accompanying guards, however, yanked her back.

“Dann-o!” Jack cried as he was hauled through the other door, power-dampening cuffs active. He had far too many guards to attempt to launch forward; after he’d broken four walls, Arkham had stopped taking chances.

“Hey mom, hey dad,” Danny said weakly, placing the care package on the table, “Everything is even, so you should both get the same amount.”

“Aw, our baby boy is so considerate!” Maddie cooed, reaching forward and pinching Danny’s cheek before the guards could tug her back out of range.

“So, I just wanted to know how you guys were settling in-“

“Have you seen any ghosts in Gotham, Dann-o?”

Danny took a deep breath through his nose.

“It doesn’t matter if I did or did not, dad; they’re a protected species with rights now.”

“Oh, pish-posh,” Maddie laughed, already digging into the package and pulling out a pretzel, “So what if the government fell for their acting? You know, when we caught Phantom-“

“-When you caught Phantom, you nearly started an inter-dimensional war,” Danny cut in, hiding his shaking fists under the table.

Maddie leveled him with her most disappointed look, while Jack laughed merrily.

“Come on, Dann-o, you fell for it’s rambling too? Ah, well. We found out so much when it turned into that weird jewel-“

“-When you mortally wounded the King of an entire Dimension, almost forever scarring relations between this one and that one-“

“-Young man, we really are happy to see you, but if you’re just going to quote ghost propaganda at us-“

“-It isn’t propaganda, you guys just don’t listen-“

“-Dann-o, if you’re possessed by ectoplasmic scum, just blink twice-“

Danny stood up, chair clattering to the ground, and turned for the exit.

“…I’ll come again in two weeks. Please actually talk to your doctors and at least try to get better.”

He couldn’t do it. He thought he could, but he just. He couldn’t.

Every time they spoke about ghosts, he was back in the lab, strapped to a metal table, begging them to stop, refusing to turn human regardless of how hard his body fought to.

He wouldn’t allow it.

Not because he thought it would get worse, but because if he had turned human during their…experiments, he would have died.

Humans could not survive what had been done to him.

He ignored their yelling and made his way out of Arkham, dodging the pitying looks from the workers and guards.

He didn’t remember getting on the subway. He didn’t recall anything about his walk through Park Row.

He only came back to himself far after the sun had set, curled up in the bathtub, eyes dry and tired from watching the door.

~~~~~~

Jazz gently tapped Dan’s boots as she walked towards the kitchen, reminding him that shoes were not allowed on the coffee table.

The large man grumbled but acquiesced.

“So how are the kids?” Jazz asked over her shoulder, flipping the oven light on to check on the roast hidden inside.

“There’s a new upstart in Iowa, calls himself Jupiter. Can’t be older than nine, one of the biggest crybabies I’ve ever had to train.”

Jazz snorted.

“Are we basing this off of their first look at you, or just how they behave in general?”

Dan didn’t answer.

Jazz read between the lines and stifled a laugh.

Little Jupiter had definitely cried upon seeing Dan.

“Did you go see Lian, then?”

“Fuck yeah I saw Lian! She’s so big, no wonder I couldn’t find her in the Realms!”

Jazz listened to Dan wax poetic about Roy’s daughter, letting him get it off his chest. After Lian had died, Dan had been as inconsolable as was possible for the emotionally stunted man. He’d spent countless hours in the Infinite Realms, searching for her, only to return heartbroken that he couldn’t find her.

He was convinced she was so doused with ecto-contamination due to her exposure to him that she would absolutely become a ghost.

But when she’d passed, there hadn’t been a trace of one. No matter how hard he’d searched, he’d never found her.

Because apparently, she’d been alive.

“-Anyways, how’s the twerp doing?”

Jazz tuned back in.

“Sorry?”

“Little me. How’s he doin?”

“Danny’s as tall as you are, Dan.”

Dan appeared at her side and phased his hand through the oven to swipe some roast.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m older. He okay?”

Jazz shrugged.

“He’s…awake. Well enough to be on his own.”

“Fucked up he stays in the same town as Maddie and Jack.”

Jazz shrugged again, a little more helplessly.

“How he chooses to heal is up to him, Dan.”

“He shouldn’t be near them,” Dan growled, causing some of the silverware to vibrate.

Jazz tensed and mentally prepared herself for the exact same argument that had brought Dan to her doorstep.

“Dan-“

“A four year coma, Jazz.”

“-It’s his choice, Dan.”

“They made him retreat into his core.”

“I know.”

“He shouldn’t be anywhere near them!”

“I know!” Jazz shouted, whirling on him, shoulders heaving as she felt her eyes glare a bright luminescent green.

They stared at each other, until ultimately Jazz won again, and Dan looked away.

“I know,” Jazz said, quieter, pulling out her phone to check it one more time, “I know, but the world has changed so much since he went down, and if this is how he wants to explore it then I won’t stop him.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over them, until the oven let out an obnoxious tune. No one moved.

“…Roast is done,” Dan said helpfully.

Jazz ignored him, eyes on the screen of her phone.

“Hey.”

She reread what Danny had sent her.

“Hey, Jazz-”

“I need to talk to Danny,” she muttered, picking up the oven mitts and tossing them at Dan as she walked towards her bedroom.

After she shut the door quietly behind her, she called her little brother.

The phone didn’t even complete the first ring before he picked up.

“Danny, are you alright?” She knew that he knew going to see their parents had been a terrible idea, and pointing that out would do no one any good.

So instead she focused on him.

“I don’t think so,” Danny said, his voice much smaller than it had any right to be.

Jazz tamped down on her instinctive need to ask a million questions and sat down on her bed instead.

“That’s fine, Danny; it’s perfectly okay to not be okay. Do you need to me to talk?”

“Yes.”

So Jazz did.

@simplestoryteller @gildedphoenix

Prompts that inspired this entire piece one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. Ages are as follows; Dan (31), Jazz (23), Danny (21), Tucker (21), Sam(21), Ellie (19) Bruce (48), Dick (33), Barbara (32), Jason (26), Cass (26), Tim (24), Steph (24), Duke (21), Damian (17) Clark (47), Lois (45), Conner (26), Jon (20) Alfred (Deceased/immortal)

I'm trying a different method of writing, so this will be a bit different. Mostly because for this particular story I'm world-building alongside it.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #in the shadow of speculation #past abuse #past torture #phanfic #healing through helping others #long post

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glow-worms-are-believers · 6 months

Text

All along the watchtower (dp x dc)

Clark is walking alongside Batman through the halls of the watchtower. Their steps echo in the long halls, and Clark has a fleeting thought he really doesn't want to be late.

"Where are we going?" Bruce turns towards Clark to ask.

"To the meeting," Clark answers confusedly, because if Batman isn't attending an official meetings, he is at the very least aware of every single one of them.

"There's something wrong," the Gotham vigilante says as he starts to slow their pace.

"What? Bruce, we have to go or we'll be late," Clark answers but still slows alongside the other man.

"No," The bat states. "No, there's something wrong."

"We can talk about it once we get to the meeting," Clark tries, tempted to tug at the other man but he knows better.

"What meeting?" Bruce is now completely stopped.

"What do you mean what meeting?" Clark is trying his best to be patient but they are going to be late and he hates being late.

"I mean what is the meeting about? Who's going to be there?" Batman narrows his eyes at him.

"It's-" Clark stops himself. "Uh," he lets out before shrugging embarrassedly. "I guess I wasn't paying enough attention last week."

"I can't remember either," Bruce says simply and that has Clark frowning. The batman rarely forgets anything, and that goes doubly for Justice League matters and meetings. Clark turns his head to look around him and notices it for the first time.

"Where is everyone?" he says. The watchtower isn't infinite and though there aren't that people manning it usually, when there's a meeting, it's more lively. They should have walked past someone by now, or at least heard someone.

"I don't know," Bruce says. "I can't remember how we got here."

Clark tries to remember anything before them walking in the hallway but comes up with nothing. He can't even tell how long they were walking. "Me neither," he admits.

Bruce nods before twirling around and walking away.

"Where are you going?" Clark asks as he follows.

"The com center," Batman says without turning. Clark says silent as he walks up to his side. There is nothing but the sound of their footsteps to accompany them on the way and they make it to the bay without seeing anyone.

Once there, Bruce sits down in front of the control while Clark looks out through the large windows into the deep darkness of space. From the corner of his eye he sees a movement within the watchtower and he turns his head to look. For a split-second he sees a shadow of something that looks like a woman before it's gone.

"Did you see that?" Clark asks, his heart rate hitching up.

Bruce looks up and around but coming up with nothing looks back at the other man. "What?"

Clark trusts his senses, a lot more than what most people do, but this is different. "Nothing," he says.

The batman just squints but Clark offers no further information. Tense silence settles back as Bruce slowly turns back to his station and resumes once more.

Then, there's a deep rumbling that sounds out. Clark puts a hand on Bruce's shoulder who straightens. It lasts a few seconds, sounding like to a low growl that reverberates in the chest before it stops.

"Bruce," Clark starts. "Bruce, that came from outside."

"Sound doesn't travel in space," Bruce refutes but his shoulders are tense.

"I know," Clark answers, eyes stuck into the dark expanse of space.

And as he looks and looks he sees the stars starting to blink out, one by one, like candles in the wind. It's like a trickle of stars being snuffed out slowly and then it starts going faster and faster. And simultaneously, there's a sound like wind flowing that starts up.

"Clark," Bruce's voice is as measured as ever but Clark recognizes the tension in it, the fear. The wind picks up.

The darkness is gaining faster and faster, whole chunks of space getting blacked out like someone drew a heavy curtain over them and the wind is whistling by now and then it's all darkness.

"Clark," Bruce repeats.

"I don't know," Clark answers, helpless.

Just as he finishes speaking, every screen lights up a neon, acidic green and the wind is howling in their ears and it shouldn't be possible because there's no wind here there's only vacuum it hurts it hurts and then it's silence. The green is gone.

They are alone in the dark.

#inspired by the song all along the watchtower #not quite sure what's going on here but it's ghostly #Where are the rest of the jl? Is this the ghost zone is this an Ancient is this nocturne?#Who knows #not me #i'm all vibes on this one #dc x dp #dp x dc #roxpox #roxpoxwrote

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random-sparks-98 · 8 months

Text

Sunlit Gotham ALTERNATE Plot Point

Justice League Meets Camp Half Blood (Batman's POV-ish)

The Batplane lands in a field nearby some tents. Superman and Wonder Woman are already talking to a handful of teens wearing Ancient Greek battle armor. Other teens work around the makeshift battle camp, sharpening weapons, preparing traps, and tending to the wounded.

“We have some scouts spying on the other army.” A tall blonde teenager informs the three adult heroes. “They should be coming back any time now.”

Superman cocks his head to the side and glances out towards the trees across the battlefield.

“Three teenagers?” He asks.

“Yeah, three of our counselors.” The teen - Malcolm, as he introduces himself, says.

“They’re sprinting this way.” Superman begins to hover slightly, “And they’re being chased by something big.”

Whipping around, Malcolm sprints towards a table that holds a mirrored shield on it. He pulls it close and demands, “Show me the stealth team.”

The shield’s surface ripples and as it clears it shows an aerial view of three teens sprinting through the forest. The shortest member is repeatedly making a hand signal as they run.

Swearing under his breath, Malcolm calls out, “Miranda! Get Ready To Activate the Vine Trap!”

A handful of teens sprint out, carrying packets of seeds. They scatter the seeds around and run back to a safe distance away, hiding amongst nearby bushes to stay out of sight.

The group of three break through the trees, running straight towards the new group. The teen in the lead holds a scroll in their hands as they sprint straight towards the scattered seeds. The other two are close behind.

Exploding out of the trees comes a large snake-like creature. It roars and spittle flies everywhere, burning away the grass where it lands. It’s intent on chasing down its prey.

“By Hera, that’s a Drakon.” Diana whispers in horror

As the monster gets close enough, the hidden teens do something and the seeds begin to grow into vines. They grasp the Drakon and it bucks, trying to throw them off.

A member of the trio turns around to watch and lets out a cheer as the Drakon stills. Then the giant head snaps up, its eyes glaring directly at the teen. They freeze, and the other two sprint past. The shortest member skids to a halt and turns back towards their friend just as the Snake HEAVES upwards, snapping the vines.

“Connor! Move!” They sprint back towards the frozen teen - Connor - and tackle him out of the way as the snake dives into the ground where they had just been.

Pulling him to his feet, the smallest teen takes off sideways across the field, dragging Connor behind them as the snake turns and gives chase.

The two shout back and forth as they run, waving their arms wildly before Connor nods and takes the lead. The other one makes sure to follow exactly where he steps.

“Holy shit.” Malcolm mutters from where he stands, “They’re going for the minefield.”

“The what?” Superman asks, concerned.

A different teen comes to stand beside Malcolm, he has a green flannel thrown over his bright orange t-shirt.

“Gods dam-it, Sky. You idiot.” He swears under his breath.

“Kayla!” Malcolm barks out, “Get the chariot and get them out of there!”

A girl with dyed hair shakes her head wildly. “The pegasi won’t go near a Drakon. They just won’t do it.”

“Shit. We gotta get them out of there.

The Drakon hits the minefield.

A Concussive blast sounds out, quickly followed by another, and another. The ground shakes and the two teens stumble but continue to sprint.

“They’re not gonna make it.” Malcolm mutters.

“They’re gonna make it.” The other blonde counters.

“They’re not gonna make it.”

“They’re gonna make it.”

“They’re not gonna make it.”

“They’re gonna — SHIT They’re not gonna make it!”

One last blast knocks the two teens off their feet.

A gust of wind is all the notice the spectators have before Superman is back, both teens in his arms. He’s trying not to make it obvious, but Batman can tell he’s looking at the shorter teen in shock.

Both kids stumble to the ground as Clark puts them down and immediately the blonde in the flannel approaches them, glowing gold.

After a few moments he leans back slightly and asks, “Can you hear me now?”

They both nod.

“Good.” He looks satisfied for a moment before his face morphs into a glare. “THEN WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?”

“Oww, do you have to shout?” The shortest one hisses.

“Skylar. Ann. Richardson.” He grinds out.

Oh no. Bruce think’s desperately, Please tell me that’s not why Clark was looking at them in shock.

“Of all the Stupid Stunts that can be pulled you choose to lead a DRAKON into the MINE FIELD????” The kid is still ranting.

Skylar pulls off their helmet to reveal an alarmingly familiar face.

“It worked, didn’t it?” She asks pointedly.

“That’s Not The Point!” Flannel shrieks. “You Almost Died!”

“We always almost die.” Connor points out.

“Do not start with me, Connor Stoll.” A finger is pointed at his chest.

“Will.” Sky leans forward and grabs Will’s hand. “We’re fine. I’m fine. We’re ok.” She glances up and balks slightly at the sight of Superman, Wonder Woman, and Batman standing before them.

Blinking a few times she opens her mouth again. “….On second thought, maybe you should check me for a concussion… I think I’m hallucinating the Justice League.”

Chuckling slightly, Diana reaches out a hand and pulls her to her feet. “You are not hallucinating, young one. We have recently discovered your existence and are here to offer whatever aid we can provide.”

“Oh.” Skylar says faintly. "Cool."

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fenricken · 30 days

Text

You Keep Slipping From My Grasp 4/7

AO3

Ship: Spirit Halloween

first

The rain fell heavily, washing the blood on the ground away as he stepped toward the woman. She was hunched over, sobbing, clutching her dead son to her chest. She glanced up at him as he approached, mouthing silent prayers.

“What happened here?” he asked, carefully ignoring the dead bodies around.

“They came… for a box my family has guarded for a long time. They killed my husband and my son, and they’ve taken my Catherine… They’ll torture her to make her speak its secrets. Please! Please, help her!”

She reached out a hand to him, imploringly. He crouched down to take it.

“I will.”

————

Danny stood before Clockwork, adjusting his new cowboy hat. Maddie and Jack stood behind Clockwork tinkering on the Fenton Omega Siphoner, and arguing over the aesthetics of the machine.

“I have already sent Dani out to help the Justice League locate Batman’s cape. Hopefully we should receive word on her success soon.” Clockwork began, “In the meantime, we do still need someone to make sure Batman doesn’t rush forward too quickly, lest he build up too much energy before we can stop him. Are you ready?”

“Always ready for bat-sitting duty. I’d hope he’s doing something a bit calmer this time, but I suppose there’s no chance of that happening.” Danny responded, pointing to his hat.

Clockwork just gave his usual cryptic smile before opening a portal for Danny to step through.

————

“Roooooobin. Rooooooooobin.”

Tim whirled around, searching for the source of the noise.

“Oooh, new fit?” Poltergeist asked, stepping out of the shadows. “Ugly cowl, but I like the rest of it.”

Tim lowered his bo staff at her, readying himself for whatever chaotic ‘game’ she tried to rope him into this time.

“Your city’s on fire. You bats trying out some new defense mechanism or something? Like, you think no rogue would want to take over Gotham if it’s a pile of rubble and ash?” She turned in a circle, surveying the chaos Gotham was under.

“What do you want, Poltergeist?”

“Well, so like, Batman’s stuck in time, right? And-”

“How do you know that?!” Red Robin cut in. He had been struggling to convince everyone that Batman was still alive ever since he found those paintings on the walls of the Batcave. Suddenly, here was Poltergeist who seemed to know something about it, but he couldn’t trust her. She was unpredictable, and running into her could mean leaving with anything as benign yet uncomfortable as soaked socks or as irritating and hindering as being cursed to only speak dead languages for the next 3 days.

And things only got worse if she was tagging along with Klarion. Fortunately, he wasn’t in sight, so it's unlikely he was here with her.

“What do you want?”

She smiled slightly at him. “Oh! I want to get Batman back where he belongs before he dies or explodes everything.”

Explodes everything?

“I mean, Gotham’s got a grumpy quota and since you’re his mini-me I figured you’d start trying to take it on and that’d be so boring.” She raised her pointer fingers to the side of her head, imitating Batman’s cowl and adopted a nasally voice. “I don’t have time to play, Poltergeist. Gotham needs me. I have to go stalk Penguin, and then I need to go brood on my favorite gargoyle.”

“So you want to help me find Batman so that I will… be able to play with you?”

“Well, that, but also if he makes his way to the present day on his own, he’ll have built up enough of something called Omega Energy to make all of reality go ka-blooey, and I actually really like this universe. Top 10, easily.”

Tim held up his hand to stop the oncoming ramble while he compartmentalized.

First, Poltergeist knew Bruce was lost in the time stream and seemed to want to help.

Second, Bruce was making his way back to the present, and by doing so was becoming a living bomb

Third, Poltergeist is a multiversal being???

That last one can probably be ignored for now.

“If I were to let you help me find Batman, where do you suggest we start? I’ve been tracking down artifacts I think he’s left behind to try and convince the Justice League to help us-”

“Psh. Justice League Shmustice League. My dad and my Nana and Pops are already working on it. We just need to find the cape he was sent back in time with for them. Besides, I can probably convince Wonder Woman to help us get the Justice Dorks to help out once we get the cape if we really need to.”

What.

“What?”

“My grandparents are building a thingy-thing to suck all the Omega Energy out of Batman so he’s not a bomb. My dad’s hanging out with him to keep him from dying or something, and we’re supposed to find his cape so we can safely yoink him out of the time stream.”

“I didn’t know you had parents??? What do they do while you’re here breaking things???”

Poltergeist shrugged “King things I guess. And I only have a dad.”

“King things???”

She rolled her eyes, “Anyway, Dad said he last saw Batman’s cape in the Batcave.”

“You didn’t answer my question, and I’m not taking you to the Batcave.”

Poltergeist landed on her feet, and stared at him with wide eyes. He stared back, caught in her gaze for what felt like an eternity, as he felt invisible fingers trickle up his spine. Whispers started low in his ears, building to a crescendo. It was getting too much to bear, until he broke eye contact and looked away. All of a sudden, it stopped. Tim heaved a big sigh.

“I’m… kinda fighting with the current Batman, so we’ll have to sneak in.”

She punched both arms into the air, “YES!”

Tim turned, flicking his cape and walking off, not waiting to see if she’d follow.

“Poltergeist, when this is over you are going to be answering my questions.”

He heard her blow a raspberry at his back, but kept walking.

————

He followed their trail easily enough, the rain trailing after him. As he reached his destination, men came out to fight him, readying pistols, but he made short work of them easily enough.

With his memory having returned in bits and pieces, it had been easy to fashion metal into bat shapes aerodynamic enough to hit true when thrown, and it was these he’d used to disarm the men.

These memories were useful. The ones of children with blurry faces less so, haunting him as they stayed just out of his complete grasp. A constant reminder of how lost and alone he was.

He steadily made his way to the headquarters, where he figured they were keeping Catherine. He whirled around, sensing someone approaching from behind. It was the man with white hair, again.

“Seems you’ve got this well enough in hand, but I hope you don’t mind if I’d tag along all the same.”

“Why?”

The white haired man smiled slightly. “Will you not believe that I just want to help you?”

He stared, unblinking and quiet. Memories from before had proven this a good method to get more information.

His target stared back, also quiet and unblinking. It wasn’t long before he started shifting, and not much longer before he finally spoke again. Under his breath, almost too quiet to hear, he muttered “Just like Dani, I swear…”

Louder, the man said, “I’ve not known you to be the kind of man to ever be on the wrong side of a cause. Whatever you’re up to, I just want to help.”

He squinted at the man, trying to find any evidence of a lie, but the man just appeared open and honest.

“No guns,” he says, before turning back around and leading the white haired man on towards the headquarters.

As they got closer, they noticed two men standing guard. He deployed smoke bombs to cover their approach, sneaking closer with his companion close behind. They were spotted, but the smoke did its work, scaring the two guards and allowing him and his companion to disappear from view again.

“How you gonna tell me there’s no such things as ghosts now???” One of them whimpered, apparently to his white-haired friend’s delight, as he broke out in giggles.

As the smoke continued to grow, he and his friend snuck around the two, tricking them into fighting each other.

He broke through into the offices in the back. They were unfortunately empty.

“Already gone!” He said, slamming a hand on the desk. His companion stood at the window.

“Not long though, look!”

When he spotted their carriage speeding away through the window, he knew he had to act quickly. He launched himself out of the window, and onto the tarp covering the wagon.

An explosion sounded behind him, but he focused on the task ahead of him. His friend always seemed to find his way back, so he’d have to trust he’d do it again.

The ensuing fight was nothing pretty, little more than mad scrambling as he fought to hold his balance, dodge bullets, and wrestle the men actually in the cart so he could get away with the Catherine and her family’s box.

Looking ahead, he saw they were quickly approaching the dock, and a man who was walking down it. Thinking quickly, he swung his body-weight around, tipping the wagon over and sending everyone sprawling.

The man who had been at the dock had acted quickly, grabbing the young woman and holding her protectively behind him. He stood up, adding to the obstacles that stood protecting Catherine from her kidnappers. Only 3 men remained. From the snippets he heard as two of them fought, he figures the two fighting must’ve been the masterminds behind the plot and the third still in the distance was a gun-for-hire. Taking out his weapons of choice, he quickly dispatched the two men.

Catherine tugged on his cloak. He turned to face her, seeing that she had opened up the box, and was showing him what was inside.

It was Jack Valor’s journal.

He wanted to reach out–to see what Jack had added since they parted, but the gun-for-hire had caught up to them by then.

“My employers may have been dealt with, but I still have a reputation to uphold. Draw.”

He stood up straight, reaching for more of his weapon of choice. Over the shoulder of the gun-for-hire, he saw another man approaching quickly, white-haired. His friend.

A loud bang echoed, and he felt pain in his side. He stumbled, too close to the edge of the dock, and as he fell over he heard one last cry of ‘BAT–’.

And everything went dark.

————

Shit.

Shit. Shit. SHIT.

As if Batman stumbling towards the present through who-knows-when wasn’t bad enough, now he’s SHOT???

Danny quickly ripped a portal back to Clockwork’s lair.

“Please tell me you’ve almost got the machine ready.” Danny said after confirming his parents were in the room.

“Almost! Just one problem, sweetie…” His mom said, looking over at her husband so he’d finish.

“Batman needs to die. Or at least be very close to death!” Jack said, ending with a laugh.

“Basically, we can get this machine to suck out the Omega Energy, but it’s tightly bonded with Batman’s life energy, so it’s extremely risky unless we can find a way to diminish his life energy.”

Danny groaned, putting his face in his hands. “It’s just one thing after another! He’s just been shot. Would that bring him close enough?”

His dad tilted his head back and forth, considering. “Likely not, unless he was in a pretty bad way. In any case, we asked Sam and Tucker to take a look into it!”

“We’ve already found something, actually.” Sam said, having entered the room. Tucker followed behind her.

“There’s an herb that I was able to locate, which should slow his heart down to extreme levels, to the point his heartbeat would be pretty undetectable. Only problem is that his heart would have to be jump-started afterward by a great shock.”

“Clockwork let me take a closer look at his monitors into Batman’s original time and place, and I was able to determine that they have defibrillator technology that can administer an electrical shock needed to get his heart pumping again, as well as adrenaline injections in case we’d need the extra boost.” Tucker continued.

Maddie clapped her hands together. “Excellent! If we can get the Justice League to set up the anchor point on the Watchtower, we can pull Batman to that point and perform everything there! It’d probably work best to do it in his original time as well, to avoid any potential effects that could crop up from being in the wrong time when we remove the Omega Energy and try to stabilize his system.”

“Great, some good news.” Danny said, tension leaving his body. He turned to Clockwork, who had been quiet thus far. “How’s Dani’s work coming along? Will we be ready to proceed soon?”

“Dani and Red Robin have recovered Batman’s cape, and have moved it to the Watchtower. I believe Dani was able to recruit Wonder Woman’s help into getting the rest of the Justice League in line to receive Batman.”

————

“Red Robin! Did you seriously bring Poltergeist into the cave??? What were you thinking?”

Before Tim could reply, Poltergeist raised a hand to point at Dick-as-Batman.

“AAH! It’s the cops! Run!”

Poltergeist placed her hand on Tim’s shoulder, pulling him and the cape through the ceiling of the batcave and up in the open air of Gotham. As Tim caught sight of Wayne Manor his head whipped towards Poltergeist, hoping she wouldn’t make any connections.

She was staring at him, lips pressed together, looking a bit like a frog.

He was quiet, waiting for her to say something.

She blew a breath of air out, letting her lips buzz.

“Listen, you keep my secret, and I won’t tell anyone Batman’s secret id is some rich fruitloop.”

“...What secret?”

She pivoted them somewhere Southeast.

“That sometimes I can be responsible. Let’s go see Wonder Woman.”

AN:

It's definitely been longer than I had planned since the last update, rip.

Not going to lie, this is like my second ever fic and I definitely thought it'd be a bit easier to get back into the habit of writing. Thought I was making it easier on my self by strongly sticking to the plot of an existing story, but I think that's been an obstacle in and of itself.

Always a little worried that the language is a bit stuffy or things aren't being clear.

#dpxdc #dc x dp #batman comic rewrite basically #dp x dc crossover #spirit halloween ship

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