#but Alfred figured him out and gives him the look™ when he uses this grunt

[skylersprompts]

DC x DP Prompt *6*

The entire Bat-Clan was on their way back from a mission abroad. Batman was the one in command of the Bat-Plane, while the kids tended to their wounds or were asleep. (Tim may have slept only 3 hours this entire week and Bruce would probably have to carry him to bed, as soon as they would be home.) Alfred knew that the family was on their way and was probably already cooking up a feast. Soon they could all rest.

At least that was the plan.

Before the Bat could even register what was happening, a swirling green Portal opened in front of the plane. Every system was screeching, while his kids all got ready for a fight.

He couldn't do anything to stop them from making contact and just two seconds after the green mass appeared the plane collided with it.

But on the other side was just more green. And some floating, purple doors.

Bruce immediately turned the plane around, but he was just greeted with the exact same few, without a portal.

And one look on the scans showed that they weren't in any to the Justice League known dimension.

They drifted through the strange world, sometimes seeing floating islands among the green abyss. While they all stayed vigilant, they also started to theorize.

The only one not participating was Jason, who had the strange feeling of a Deja Vu.

The green seemed to go on forever, at least until another green vortex opened in front of them and they incident repeated itself.

And for a split second they all thought that they are back in their world, but the navigation system seemed to be unable to provide them with any information on how to get home or on the place they landed in.

The Batman grunted in a way that all his children knew.

It was the grunt he made, when he wasn't able to say 'fuck'.

[bluejaywriter]

Marlyta’s first meeting (first draft)

Hola! Here is the very first draft of Marlyta’s very first meeting in Justice For All. This was probably written in January or February 2018 (almost a year before I started writing The Sun and the Moon!). I’d never written more than a handful of Hippolyta or Martha Kent scenes, and it shows. This was also, unfortunately, heavily influenced by The Abomination™ aka the Josstice League, which was all we had at the time :P

“What is this?”

“Your breakfast, sir. And Master Wayne has called a team meeting at 8.”

Arthur grunts, takes the offered tray of food, then slams the door of Bruce Wayne’s 5th best guest room in Alfred’s face.

“Alfred?”

The butler sighs, then glances up at the figure making her way down the bright hall.

“Ah–yes, hello, Mrs. Kent. The cook is taking orders for breakfast now if you would like to-”

“Nonsense, Bruce shouldn’t have to go through all this trouble.”

“Master Wayne is not in the habit of having company often. This is rather a… treat,” Alfred says drily. Martha smiles, shakes her head, and pats the butler’s shoulder as she walks past. Another door opens down the hall and a tousled head of hair appears.   

“Um, sorry to interrupt- oh, hi, Mrs. Kent- but I smelled food and I thought that maybe someone got take-out, but it’s so early so maybe not-”   

“Yes, Master Allen, here is your breakfast, and ah, Master Kent, would you like your-”   

“No, thank you, Alfred, but please let Mr. Wayne know I’ll be back in time for that meeting.”   

Clark pushes his way through the crowd in the hallway, stopping only to kiss his mother lightly on the cheek.   

“Good morning, Ma.”   

“Good morning, honey.”   

“I’m on my way to pick up Lois. Stay here–at least until we know what’s out there. Please,” he adds when his mother sighs. But Martha just shakes her head and gives a nonchalant shrug.   

“Well, what else am I going to do? Go and save the world?”   

“Oh, Ma,” Clark smiles, reaching out to put both hands on her shoulders. “You saved [incomplete].”   

And then the glass door is swinging shut, and Superman is just a speck in the light of the rising sun. Alfred and his food cart continue making their way down the hall, but Martha lingers for a moment, watching the now empty sky, trying to ignore the sudden, empty feeling in her gut. But then she turns away, scolding herself. He said he’d be back. In less than an hour, he would be back, and Lois would be with him. There was no reason to worry about-   

“I can’t believe we brought him back.”

It’s that sweet, innocent boy, and he’s pointing at the sky where Superman disappeared. His words are muffled with half chewed pizza.

“I can’t believe it either,” Martha says, smiling. “Thank you so much for that.”

“Aww, thanks Mrs. Kent, I did actually help, a lot–I mean, I helped unbury him, I helped carry him to the car, I helped get us into the military base, and I’m actually the one who brought him back to life–see, when I run really fast, I can manipulate-”

A door slams open, and Arthur Curry is standing there, a gripping a fork speared with four slices of bacon.

“Get a room or shut up,” he growls, glaring at Barry, but his expression softens fractionally as Martha turns to stare at him. “Ma’m. Er, Mrs. Kent. Ma’am. Good morning.”   

“Good morning, Arthur.”   

The door slams again.

“Mrs. Kent, actually, if you wouldn’t mind…”

Alfred is back, and Martha turns to look at him, an eyebrow raised.

“The Queen retired early this morning. I believe they were unsuccessful in communicating with Diana-”

“Oh, the poor girl-”

“I wonder if you might look in on her? She did not answer the telephone or the door, and I know Bruce would, ah... appreciate her insight at this meeting.”

I know that Bruce would appreciate not being thrown to the floor again because he failed to invite the Queen to an important meeting.

“Sometimes parents do terrible things for their children,” Martha says quietly, and Alfred grimaces.

“Yes, they do.”

A charged silence settles down over the hall, then Martha says suddenly,

“Of course I can look in on her, but didn’t she arrive with an attendant?”

“The Queen’s sister will not move from Diana’s bedside.”   

_________________________________________________

“Your Majesty?” Martha calls, knocking quickly on the heavy oak door. There is no answer, and she knocks again, then cracks it open. “Your Majesty, are you here?”

“Come in.”

Martha steps forward into the dark room. Slits of light are peeking their way out from underneath the heavy curtains covering the ceiling to floor windows. The bed is empty, its sheets rumpled, and the velvet comforter tossed onto the carpeted floor.

“...hello?”

A voice sighs impatiently, then it says once more, “Come in.”

Martha Kent fumbles her way across the room, then pushes open the ajar door where the voice had been coming from. The Queen’s gleaming armor is hanging on a coat rack in the middle of the room. Her sword and crown are polished and laid out over the counter next to the sink, and her boots are resting against the cupboards.

“Who are you?”

Martha startles and realization dawns on her as she glances across the room.

“Oh- oh my goodness, I am so sorry- Your Majesty, I did not mean to intrude-”

“Peace, child,” the Queen interrupts. Her eyes are still closed as she leans back into the hot, steaming water. Some architect had decided to build the hot tub directly into the floor, designed to mimic the pools scattered throughout the caves below. Hippolyta hadn’t turned on any of the electric lights, and the room is filled with the soft, blue light of pre-dawn. 

It suits the Amazon Queen remarkably well.

“Who are you?”

The Queen’s voice is edged once more with impatience at Martha Kent’s stunned, embarrassed silence, and she finally opens her eyes and turns her head to glance expectantly at her across the room.

“I’m… I’m Clark’s mother.” Her voice sounds so small and meek in this grand, dark room. Her eyes are fixed on the room- on the floor, on the armor, on the cupboards, because she can’t even think about, or look at the woman lying just a few yards away-

“That boy? You are mistaken,” The Queen scoffs. Martha continues starting at the floor, thinking maybe it would be best to not argue that point. After all, it’s not entirely untrue, but...

“I… I was asked to tell you that Bruce Wayne is calling a meeting… at 8.”

The Queen’s lip curls, then she leans back once more, her eyes fixed on the gold edged ceiling. A long, tense moment passes. The hot water bubbles. The bathroom windows have all been flung open, filling the room with the chilly morning air. There’s a bird outside singing questions at the absent sun. Martha shifts uncomfortably, begins to back away, her eyes still fixed on the floor, hoping desperately to slip out unnoticed.

“She always used to fall asleep. In the baths.”

Martha freezes, then dares a glance at the other woman. The water is lapping up against her tanned skin, her blonde hair plastered against her flushed face.

“What?”

“After her training. She would be so tired, I would find her sleeping right there in the baths... but she never complained, no matter how hard Antiope worked her.”

Her voice is so soft. So tired, and so motherly. Martha feels a pang of understanding and takes a hesitant step forward.

“They’ll bring her back, Your Majesty. They will. They brought back Clark, and they’ll bring back your daughter.”

Hippolyta makes some sort of derisive sound, then rises abruptly, splashing water noisily across the sparkling floor. Martha stumbles back, colliding painfully with a decorative pillar. The Queen pauses, staring at her suspiciously.

“What ails you, woman?”

“I… on Earth, I mean, in this world- people don’t… that is, it’s not considered polite-”

“What, do women in man’s world no longer bathe together?”

“No. We don’t, it’s considered, well, embarrassing to catch someone, um-”

“Oh, Hera help us,” Hippolyta snaps, snatching up a towel, but instead of using it to cover herself, she begins to dry her hair. “The Amazons always bathe together, freely, and without shame. What is there to be shameful of?”

“I…” But Martha Kent has no answer for that, and she has no idea how to remove herself from this terribly uncomfortable situation.

“Mankind has done this to you,” the Queen says bitterly, tossing the towel aside and strolling towards her armor.

“...what?” Martha asks, forgetting to look away as the Queen begins to dress.

“They made you into a woman who doubts her own place, her own worth in their world.”

“What? I- no! John, he was a good man, my father was a good- they never...”

“Mankind has taught you that your place is in their shadows.”

“Well. I mean, we can’t all be queens,” Martha jokes, offering the proud Amazon a quick smile before quickly glancing away when it is not returned. “No, I’m perfectly happy to be… to be invisible. To be a spectator. I don’t need...I don’t need that.”

Hippolyta raises an eyebrow, then turns her back and strides across the room towards the counter, her armor perfectly in place. Martha watches as she presses on her crown, gathers up her sword in one hand, and then turns and walks towards her.

“May the gods have mercy on you, invisible child.”

And then she is gone.