#Once read a fic where some league members get trapped under a city in a subway or something during an earthquake and marvel holds the

[phoenixcatch7]

Identity reveal shazamily fic idea:

They're fighting some big bad in a huge cave or throne room or in an air pocket miles underwater (the Rock?) and the league and shazamily are all there, every two stuck in separate areas (magic barriers? Cave ins? Enemies simply not letting them close?).

The roof is starting to collapse. Billy catches it, but with his powers divided, he's struggling. With a time limit before he falls, the battle intensifies.

Mary and her jl partner fells her opponent first, and looks across the room just in time to see him stagger under the crushing weight. She cannot reach him (in time?). They meet each others eyes. The wisdom of Solomon, or perhaps Mary batson, has an idea.

In a crash of thunder, she detransforms, in front of their enemies, and the entire justice league.

With power returned, captain marvel stands a bit straighter. The roof grows heavier. Cracks scatter across the high ceiling.

As Mary is carried to safety, the family understands what they must do.

In conjunction with the league member they were trapped with, they work to defeat their opponents, and one by one transform, each time revealing people too small, too young. The crash of thunder marks each victory. Rubble starts to fall and shake the earth as the league members pull their partners to safety, gathering together by the entrance, bandaging their wounds. All eyes are on Marvel, trapped under a great pillar of stone. (They have been working with him for years now, but each of his family has been revealed to be children. Is he, too?) Each time he raises the ceiling a little higher, and each time it grows heavier as the battles and the ticking clock destabilise the thousands of tons above.

At last, the final group win, and exhausted league members piggy back the last child hero over the rubble.

All are evacuated, but Marvel cannot move. Rapid power transfer and hours of stress have taken their toll, and he needs to transform back as well.

Finally, finally, green lantern and superman reach him, and with their help he is freed, collapsing to the side in relief. No one says a word.

With one final lightning strike, the last member of the team is revealed.

He's twelve years old.

And the league needs to take them all to safety.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: Jonah (ao3 link)

Fandom: Flash, Legends of Tomorrow Pairing: Barry Allen/Mick Rory/Leonard Snart Series: Flashwave Week 2018 (Destiny Series)

Summary: In which Barry goes to sleep and wakes up to a very different universe.

And it's all because Leonard "Destiny of the Endless" Snart couldn't keep his big mouth shut while reading the literal Book of Destiny.

Oh, well.

A/N: @flashwaveweek - Flashwave Week: Accidental Marriage

——————————————————————————————

Barry, as he so often does, wakes up feeling tired.

Not physically, of course; his powers make sure that even minimal amounts of sleep are enough to fully revive him.

Wouldn't want the world to go without one its heroes, Barry thinks bitterly.

Most of his mornings are spent like this, now: awake, but trapped in bitterness and regret. He's not sure when exactly it started, this endless frozen atrophied bitterness - when Joe's new baby died, maybe, or when Wally was killed, or when Caitlin was mind-wiped until she didn't remember any of them, or when Cisco went temporarily evil and killed so many people that even the defense of mind control didn't swing the jury back in his favor.

He has new members of Team Flash to back him now, but it's not the same. He knows he can't let himself get close to them or they'll just be targets as well, more than they already are.

Everyone he's close to is a target.

Like Iris.

Oh, Iris...

Maybe that's when the bitterness started, when Iris sat him down - months ago, now - and held his hands and told him that while she still loved him, she thought it'd be better for both of them if they weren't married anymore.

Barry doesn't blame her. He wouldn't want to be friends with a Jonah like him, either: mysterious disappearances at every turn, weird twists and turns what feels like every week, never any normal life, and poisonous honey to draw in every maniacal villain in existence, it felt like.

Even the Justice League, in which he put so much hope, is fracturing: Batman's latest protégé brutally murdered and Batman lashing out against them all as a result, Superman's identity and Earth parents under threat, Diana offered an irresistible chance to go home again for a rest, Hal sent far away...no one has time or interest in their alliance beyond the moments of utter necessity, which seem to happen about once a year or so.

Nothing like the group of friends who can understand the pressures of heroism that Barry wanted it to be.

And that leads him back to where he is: bitter and tired and unable to get up.

"Bar!" Iris' voice rings through the door, causing Barry to violently start. Iris hasn't lived in what was once their mutual apartment since she'd moved back home to take care of Joe, who was near-catatonic with grief. Sure, she still had a key, but she never used it... "Barry Allen, I know you have super-speed, but if you don't get up now, you're going to be late. Or, more importantly, we're going to be late!"

Barry doesn't recall any plans he had with Iris. Honestly, Barry doesn't recall the last time he spoke with Iris, even though (even after everything) she's still his anchor.

Is this another trick? Another villain's scheme?

Only one way to find out.

He gets dressed and goes into the kitchen, where Iris is rifling through the fridge, though she looks up when he walks in.

"There you are, lazybones," she says, grinning at him, and Barry has to take a step back, because he hasn't seen Iris this healthy, this whole, this happy in - years. Even before she moved out. "Don't tell me you're getting cold feet."

"Cold feet?" Barry echoes helplessly.

"More like hot feet, I'd say," another voice says with a laugh from his blind spot, and now Barry's really twitching because it's been forever since he heard that voice, it can't be, he's dead, but no, Barry turns and there he is.

Eddie Thawne is sitting at Barry's kitchen table with a newspaper and a wedding ring.

"You're letting the puns get to you, babe," Iris says, going over and giving him a kiss on the cheek. "You planning to go villain on us?"

"Hey, I don't necessarily get my puns from the villains," Eddie protests mildly, smiling up at her with that devoted, loving gaze he's always had for Iris, the one that won him Barry's affection even despite their competition. "Maybe I get it from my wonderful pun-using award-winning journalist wife. Have you considered that possibility, Mrs. West?"

"I have indeed, Mr. West," Iris says haughtily, but with a grin. "And I'll have you know that your wife just reports what's out there - Barry, you're pale. Did you forget your midnight snack again? You know your metabolism goes screwy when you don't eat enough."

Barry shakes his head and shrugs. He can't think of what to say. He can't think of - anything.

They look so happy.

"Sit and eat," Eddie says, looking at him with a frown. "Did we - did we actually wake you up? We didn't mean to."

"Like Barry would've slept through our kids getting ready to go school," Iris says, but she sounds doubtful. "They're total elephants and we do live right upstairs..."

Barry and Iris didn't have kids. They'd wanted to, of course, in the beginning, but then there was what happened to Nora and they'd never quite managed to get over that enough to start trying, not before the tragedies started - or worsened, really, it wasn't like their lives weren't full of tragedy before...

"Nora?" he croaks.

"No, Don and Dawn," Iris says, looking puzzled. "They're the maniacal little kindergarteners; little Nora's still cooking." She taps her belly, which now that Barry pays attention he notices is curved out slightly. "As you well know. Are you okay?"

Barry opens his mouth to tell them that there's been a timeline alteration, that someone's changed something - Eddie's alive, after all, and he shouldn't be - but then he stops.

If he tells them there's a timeline alteration, then they'll want to help him try to fix it.

They'll want to send him back.

Back to a world where he lives in his big apartment alone with the wreck of all his dreams, where Iris has quit her job to care for Joe, where...his friends...his friends...

"I think I have temporary amnesia," Barry says apologetically. "Can you catch me back up?"

"Uh, sure," Iris says, blinking at him. "Is this a Justice League thing?"

Barry shrugs apologetically.

"I'm going to text Diana very angrily about this," Iris says, who's never had Diana's phone number. No one had Diana's phone number, and once she went back to Thermiscyra it was a moot point anyway. "Or maybe Selina."

"Selina?"

"Batman's wife? Catwoman?"

"Oh," Barry says faintly. "Right. Her."

Batman got married?!

"Barry, please sit and eat something," Eddie says, coming over and putting a warm hand on his back. "Whatever's gone wrong, we'll help you fix it, you know that."

"I know," Barry says, his throat tight. "Uh. Can I ask you - about everyone else?"

"Sure," Iris says. "But then - as soon as we finish our appointments today - we're taking you to STAR Labs for Caitlin to check you."

"Caitlin's - at STAR Labs?"

"Well, no," Eddie says. "Only sometimes. She got that job in that hospital - Head of the Metahuman Wing, remember? Her and Killer Frost both?"

"Of course he doesn't remember, Eddie," Iris says. "He has amnesia."

"Well, I don't know how far back the amnesia goes -"

"Cisco?" Barry interrupts, a little desperately. "Joe?"

"Cisco's at STAR Labs," Iris agrees, clearly puzzled. "Probably setting up for his first class of the day -"

"Class?"

"Yeah, the Flash Engineering Corps," Eddie says, looking amused. "Best scholarship program in the Twin Cities - plus you get to work for a superhero while saving up for college. Iris' idea, of course."

"Shush, you. Joe's - well, Joe's probably dropping Jenna off at school after her dentist appointment, then dropping Cecile off at the DA's office, and then going into work at the CCPD as usual, I guess?"

Barry swallows hard. Caitlin herself, Cisco free, Joe aware...

There's got to be a catch.

"Oh, crap," Iris says abruptly. "Our appointment! Barry, we can deal with your amnesia later, but if we miss this, they won't let us have another, and then you won't have a suit for your wedding!"

...wait, what?

"Uh," Barry says.

"Listen, here, Barry Allen," Iris says. "I know you and Mick would probably get married in your underwear and a bathrobe if we let you, but damnit that is not going you happen, you get me?"

"Yes, ma'am," Barry says automatically, saluting her so that she laughs and punches his arm lightly.

His mind is still reeling. Mick? As in, Mick Rory? Formerly the supervillain Heatwave, most recently member of the Legends, kind of depressed almost all the time?

They're getting married?!

This can’t be right.

Barry checks his phone for confirmation. There’s a WhatsApp group chat titled “Justice League” that’s filled with jokes, that’s the first thing he notices – did Batman really just send around a bat emoji? really? will wonders never cease? – but Barry’s Facebook definitely seems to suggest that he’s marrying Mick Rory and that everyone is sending him congratulations on it.

“Barry,” Iris says. “Appointment. Time to get moving.”

There's a knock at the door.

"I've got it," Eddie says, and is at the door opening it before Barry can say anything - you don't open doors, you don't know who's waiting behind those doors with a gun and a grudge, that's how we lost Cecile, except here they didn't lose Cecile. "Oh, Snart, what are you doing here?"

Snart?

Wait, no, this is good - in Barry's universe, Snart had recently returned from the dead to assume some sort of mystical magical position or something, something Constantine called "Destiny of the Endless". Barry's not entirely sure what he does - it seems to involve a lot of reading - but it did mean that he spends most of his days in his garden house outside of time.

And if he's outside of time, he wouldn't be affected by the timeline changes!

"- just need to borrow Barry for a bit," Snart is saying apologetically. His hood is up over his head and his eyes are glowing that inhuman blue that Barry's still not used to, and he has his ridiculous Book in hand; he's definitely still Destiny here. "I'll get him to the fitting, don't worry; just meet us there."

"Fine, I'm trusting you," Iris says, shaking her head at him. "C'mon, Eddie; you can drop me off before you go to work - Barry will catch up later, apparently. But don't you dare be late, Bar!"

"Uh," Barry says.

"Later than usual," she amends.

"Okay," he says, because that seems slightly more plausible.

They leave and Barry turns onto Snart. "Do you know -" he starts, only for Snart to interrupt.

"I'm sorry," he says.

Barry stares at him. "Oh god," he says. "It's affected you, too."

Snart scowls at him. "It has not," he snaps. "But I promised Mick those'd be the first words out of my mouth."

That seemed pretty plausible. Mick could get Snart to do just about anything.

"And I am," Snart adds grudgingly. "Sorry. I guess."

That sounds more like it.

"You're behind the timeline change?"

Snart winces. "Bit more than a timeline change," he says. "I'm - listen, I'm new at this whole Destiny thing, okay?"

"...yeah..?"

"I was - multitasking."

Barry's never heard that word imbued with such gravitas portending doom.

(Does the ability to do that come with the Destiny job?)

"Okay, and?" he asks.

"Turns out that's a bad idea," Len says grimly.

"What did you do, Snart?"

"I was reading from the Book," Snart says. "You know, the one that describes how reality operates?"

He shakes it pointedly.

Barry just gives him a look.

"Anyway, Mick was on my case about - something - and he mentioned you a few times - as a good influence or something - and, uh, I may have lost my temper a bit -"

"Snart. What did you do."

"I said, 'if you like Barry Allen so much, maybe you should marry him'," Snart says, looking hideously embarrassed.

As he should.

"What are you, five?" Barry asks. "I haven't heard that used as a comeback since first grade."

Possibly third. Maybe even fifth.

Barry was never really good at comebacks.

That's not the point.

"The point is," Snart says, "is that by saying that while reading the Book, reality got a little...confused."

"Confused," Barry says flatly.

"It - may have reshuffled itself into a world in which you and Mick are getting married."

“No kidding,” Barry says. He’s already figured that out. “And I don’t remember the new backstory because…?”

“Speed Force,” Snart says with a shrug. “Protects you from timeline shifts for the most part, or at least your memories. You should start getting the memories from this timeline in a few months, though.”

“Just like it was with Flashpoint?” It’d taken all summer before Barry’s old memories started fading in favor of the new ones.

“Yeah, like that,” Snart says.

Barry considers this. “���can it be changed back?” he asks after a long moment.

“It can,” Snart says. “But Mick doesn’t really want to – there’s some friends of his on the Legends that died. Sometimes in pretty nasty ways. Anyway, they’re back now. But he says I have to check with you as to what you want.”

“My memories of this world will start coming in in a few months?”

“Yeah. You’ll still remember the old world, though; it’ll just be overlaid with, like, important event memories so that you're not always asking about backstory.”

“Okay, then,” Barry says.

“…what does that mean?” Snart asks suspiciously.

“It means ‘okay’,” Barry says. “Thus far, this world seems a lot better than the one I left behind so, you know, screw that.”

He wasn't able to stay in Flashpoint because what he had to give up was so great, but the world he's left behind now? The world of misery and death and the endless despair of being a Jonah?

Seriously.

Screw that.

“You have a whole brand new set of enemies,” Snart warns him.

“Not exactly a new experience,” Barry says with a shrug. “Cisco and Caitlin can catch me up until I get the memories.”

“My sister’s developed plant-related powers and lives in Gotham now.”

“…weird and not exactly on-theme for her, but that sounds like Batman’s problem, not mine.”

“You kind of have to marry Mick.”

“Have to?”

“The entire reality rewrite is based on it,” Snart says. “The whole thing won’t fix into place until you both say ‘I do.’”

“But we could theoretically get divorced afterwards?”

“Yeah, no problem. It’d take you a year, legally speaking, but you can do it.”

A year married to Mick Rory, in exchange for Iris happily married with kids (and living upstairs, no less), Joe still functional, Cisco free and teaching, Caitlin at a hospital, a proper Justice League friendship group, and even some of the Legends brought back?

Yeah, like that’s a tough choice.

“I’m in,” Barry says. “Can I talk with Mick about this? He remembers everything, right?”

“Yes, he does, and he’s coming back tomorrow,” Snart says. “Legends, you know, they’re not always great on timing.”

“I do know that,” Barry says. “Uh – how does Mick feel about it? The marriage thing? Does he just want to pretend our way through it, or…?”

It’s not like Barry would really object if Mick wanted to give the marriage thing an actual go. He’s touch-starved, he’s apparently single, and he’s always been aware that Mick is ridiculously hot.

No pun intended.

(Damnit, villains!)

Snart smirks.

“Like I said,” he drawls. “He likes you. In fact, he likes you so much that he oughta marry you – and look at that, so you are.”

Barry shakes his head. “Whatever,” he says. He’ll talk about it with Mick directly; that’ll make more sense. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got a suit fitting to go to.”

Maybe, if he’s lucky, he’s arrived early enough to still help out with the cake-tasting selection…

(Mick ends up making all the cake samples. Barry would marry him just for that.)

[holy-fate-worse-than-death]

Red has a new chapter!

Chapter 12.5 is up :)

This fic is such a slow-burn and wow I’m sorry (but also I’m not even a little sorry)

Read the whole thing here

Preview under the cut>>

Archie Goodwin International Airport was located barely a ten-minute drive south of Wayne Manor, just across Mooney Bridge on the western mainland.

Before any other international mission, Tim would have stayed the night at the Manor and had Alfred drive him to the private airstrip Wayne Enterprises kept for their small fleet of private jets. When he’d suggested that to Arsenal, however, the redheaded archer had shifted uncomfortably from foot-to-foot and avoided looking Tim in the eye.

So instead they’d stayed the night in The Penthouse; a chic, minimalist suite on the top floor of Wayne Tower, complete with a view of the Atlantic, three bedrooms, two bathrooms and, of course, a private lift to an underground garage and bunker. Arsenal had let out a low whistle when they’d entered via said bunker, making no effort to hide how desperately he wanted to snoop around.

“B’s not here tonight,” Tim had said, his voice echoing off the concrete walls.

He swept across the long, narrow space, past several iterations of batmobiles and batcycles, and into the modest locker room. The space wasn’t anywhere near as sprawling as the Batcave or any of the League’s various hideouts, but Tim didn’t get the sense that Arsenal had spent much time in any of those.

Tim stripped out of his suit quickly and efficiently, undoing latches on armour panels and clasps on Kevlar with nimble, practiced hands. Part of Batman’s rigorous training had been timing how long it took to do a full costume change – from civilian attire to the vigilante get-up – and Tim had always joked about how it made him feel like an actor in a college stage production.

Arsenal undressed himself more lazily, though they finished at about the same time because the archer’s costume was simpler. He didn’t seem to have any hidden catches or booby-traps, no extra layer of non-conductive insulation under his Kevlar, or reinforced titanium panel over his heart. Hell, the redhead’s costume didn’t even have sleeves.

Not that Tim was complaining. There was definitely something charming about the faded stick-n-poke tattoos on his fellow ex-sidekick’s shoulders. The green one that said ‘POISON’ in sloppy, uneven letters, accompanied by a scorpion and an octopus with a skull for a head, drew Tim’s eye. Before he could consider his words, he found himself asking about it.

“What’s it mean?”

Arsenal hummed at him, raising one eyebrow as he threw a loose white t-shirt over his head that had been in the duffel he’d brought with him. Tim nodded at his shoulder as it disappeared under the fabric, and a hint of a smile tugged the corner of Arsenal’s mouth.

“I guess I thought it looked cool at the time,” he said with a shrug.

“You don’t think that anymore?” Tim pressed, hopping up and down a little as he struggled into a pair of too-tight skinny jeans.

They were fine around the waist once they got up there, but all the acrobatics he engaged in as Red Robin meant his thighs were disproportionately wide compared to the rest of his body. He’d lamented with Dick a hundred times about the issue as they changed in the locker rooms of the Batcave; apparently it was just a Robin thing.

Arsenal shrugged again, diverting his eyes. Tim couldn’t pinpoint the source of the behaviour; was it some sense of modesty because he felt uncomfortable watching Tim squeeze into his jeans, or was the topic uncomfortable? Tim was about to test the waters a little further, trying to decide the best tactic, when Arsenal continued.

“I don’t remember getting them,” the archer admitted.

“You don’t?” Tim asked immediately, almost stammering over the words as he imagined plucking them out of the air and shoving them guiltily back into his mouth.

Arsenal flinched, now shoving his feet into a pair of beat-up high-top Vans (red, of course).

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Tim began hurriedly.

“Forget about it, kid,” Roy snapped, suddenly sounding so much like Jason Todd.

He followed that with a great heaving sigh as he slung his duffel bag over his shoulder. The sigh certainly wasn’t because of the bag’s weight.

Tim averted his gaze and braced himself to brush past Arsenal. The narrow space between the lockers meant that they could barely stand shoulder-to-shoulder in the room, and Tim didn’t feel much like asking Arsenal to move out of his way. He knew if he did he’d sound rude, and they were going to be stuck with each other for the next half a week at least. Instead, he steeled himself and shuffled past the taller man, trying to make himself as small as possible.

Tim thought Arsenal might have got the hint, but the redhead just stood there, forcing contact. Their forearms brushed, and Tim immediately felt all the hairs there stand up.

Tim hurriedly exited the room, Arsenal hot on his heels, and made a beeline for the elevator at the end of the bunker. They passed another batmobile – this one an as-yet unused prototype that Tim had been tooling around with whenever he stayed at The Penthouse. A more and more frequent occurrence, Tim thought. Not long after he’d ended things with Stephanie he’d realised just how much he’d come to rely on crashing at her apartment whenever he was in the city. Now instead of having a drawer in her bedroom dresser, he had a cupboard in one of The Penthouse’s guest rooms.

A faint ghost of regret wisped through his stomach, but it was gone as soon as it had come. It had been almost six months now since he and Steph had gone their separate ways, and his only real regret was that he still didn’t feel like he could reach out and repair their friendship yet; she wasn’t ready, and maybe he wasn’t either. Still, they ran into each other every once in a while, and sometimes one of them would make a joke that activated some nostalgia reflex deep in their brains, and they’d laugh together or exchange a knowing smile. Those moments faded just as soon as they came too, but Tim quietly hoped that pleasant familiarity would be the norm for them again one day.

He caught himself smiling at the thought, and reflexively stared down at his feet as though that would conceal his expression from Arsenal. The elevator had ascended halfway up the tower now, and there wasn’t much room to hide in the tiny metal box. He dug his hands into back pockets of his jeans because, truth be told, they didn’t fit in the front pockets.

Arsenal’s eyes followed Tim’s hands and he smirked as he asked, “What’ya thinkin’ about, Tee-bird?”

Tim, now in better spirits, found himself smiling wryly at the pet name. It wasn’t one of the many that Jason had given him over the years, so he figured Arsenal must have come up with it himself. He bit back the urge to make a snarky comment about the redhead’s originality, and instead just shook his head.

“Nothing important,” he muttered, as the elevator slowed to a perfectly smooth stop.

Arsenal didn’t bother to hide the way his jaw dropped open as they entered the open-plan living area of The Penthouse.

Directly opposite them, the far wall was made entirely of floor-to-ceiling glass panels, a few of which gave way to a small balcony and jacuzzi. Between them and the glass, though, was a wide-open living room. An enormous slate-grey rug made everything feel somehow warmer, despite all the furniture being either black leather or brushed steel. The couches all pointed towards the western wall, currently on their right, where an enormous home-cinema-size television took up the entire wall.

In the eastern corner, to their left, a generous kitchen with sleek, mostly untouched appliances and marble countertops hummed and sparkled. That was what Tim padded towards. He hadn’t bothered with shoes when he was downstairs because he was only going to take them off once he got up here anyway, and the kitchen’s polished tile floor was cool on the soles of his feet.

“No chandelier?” Arsenal called incredulously from behind him.

Though Tim knew the archer was joking, Tim had actually asked the same thing when Bruce had remodelled the place a few years ago. This isn’t the Manor, Bruce had said.

“This is where billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne brings his dates,” Tim called back with a laugh, repeating what Bruce had told him that day, “Not where he brings members of Gotham’s high society.”

Arsenal had just nodded, taking a seat at one of the bar stools on the outside of the kitchen’s large marble island. Tim was on the other side of it, hunting around in the fridge. Honestly, he wasn’t sure what to offer Arsenal, since he didn’t seem like a wine or scotch guy – and that was in the liquor cabinet anyway, not the fridge – and he also didn’t seem like a tea guy.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked pleasantly instead, orchestrating a cover story in his head for why the fridge was mostly stocked with apple juice and soda.

He was just deciding he’d say it was for Damian – or maybe Dick – when he heard Arsenal clear his throat.

“I don’t drink,” the archer stated firmly.

There was an edge in his voice, so Tim turned around. Sure enough, Arsenal’s hands were clenched into fists on the bench and his bright green eyes were looking anywhere but at Tim.

It occurred to him that this was the first time he’d ever really looked at Arsenal without his mask on. His eyes were the most terrifyingly bright shade of green Tim had ever seen, and everything from his orange hair to his crisp white shirt seemed to accentuate how pale he was. Under the bright downlights of the kitchen, Tim could see the generous dusting of freckles over his nose that extended out over his cheeks, as well as the tiny little whiskers on his chin that told him the guy probably wasn’t capable of growing more than a five o’clock shadow. Tim was the same, though Arsenal had a few years on him.

Tim wasn’t sure if what he said next was an attempt to lighten the mood or to try and bond with Arsenal, but he said it all the same.

“Good thing I’m the kid,” he said, emphasising the word Arsenal had called him earlier, “who has a fridge full of juice boxes and Red Bull then.”

He punctuated his attempt at humour by swinging the refrigerator door open dramatically to showcase the aforementioned contents.

Arsenal huffed out a laugh in response and asked Tim to chuck him a soda. Tim obliged, grabbing one for himself as well and setting them both down on the counter. He cracked his own with one hand and opened the drawer beside his hip with the other, retrieving a handful of takeout menus. He splayed them out across the counter in front of the archer.

“You’re the guest, Arsenal,” he said.

Arsenal rolled his eyes.

“It’s Roy,” he said.

**

Once again, you can read the whole fic here

[ambisinistous-blog]

#The power sharing mechanics of the shazamily is so interesting to me. And so under utilised.#Detransforming. Revealing yourself and by relation your family as a direct way to save your brother#And I do love incredibly strong characters having to hold the sky to save their friends#You're looking them in the eye and they're saving your life by performing this impossible feat and neither of you are moving#Percabeth do it like no other but we can try#Once read a fic where some league members get trapped under a city in a subway or something during an earthquake and marvel holds the#entire roof + ground + skyscrapers above them up for eight hours until the league can find them without moving a muscle.#And every time I think of cap marvel I think of that. Like. What do you even do after that. Where can you go #dc comics#superman#captain marvel#dc captain marvel#billy batson#shazam#shazamily#mary bromfield#pedro pascal#mary marvel#mary batson#freddy freeman#I'm so sorry I don't know the surnames of Darla and Eugene#Fic idea#story prompt#fic prompt#justice league

Identity reveal shazamily fic idea:

They're fighting some big bad in a huge cave or throne room or in an air pocket miles underwater (the Rock?) and the league and shazamily are all there, every two stuck in separate areas (magic barriers? Cave ins? Enemies simply not letting them close?).

The roof is starting to collapse. Billy catches it, but with his powers divided, he's struggling. With a time limit before he falls, the battle intensifies.

Mary and her jl partner fells her opponent first, and looks across the room just in time to see him stagger under the crushing weight. She cannot reach him (in time?). They meet each others eyes. The wisdom of Solomon, or perhaps Mary batson, has an idea.

In a crash of thunder, she detransforms, in front of their enemies, and the entire justice league.

With power returned, captain marvel stands a bit straighter. The roof grows heavier. Cracks scatter across the high ceiling.

As Mary is carried to safety, the family understands what they must do.

In conjunction with the league member they were trapped with, they work to defeat their opponents, and one by one transform, each time revealing people too small, too young. The crash of thunder marks each victory. Rubble starts to fall and shake the earth as the league members pull their partners to safety, gathering together by the entrance, bandaging their wounds. All eyes are on Marvel, trapped under a great pillar of stone. (They have been working with him for years now, but each of his family has been revealed to be children. Is he, too?) Each time he raises the ceiling a little higher, and each time it grows heavier as the battles and the ticking clock destabilise the thousands of tons above.

At last, the final group win, and exhausted league members piggy back the last child hero over the rubble.

All are evacuated, but Marvel cannot move. Rapid power transfer and hours of stress have taken their toll, and he needs to transform back as well.

Finally, finally, green lantern and superman reach him, and with their help he is freed, collapsing to the side in relief. No one says a word.

With one final lightning strike, the last member of the team is revealed.

He's twelve years old.

And the league needs to take them all to safety.