#look at Hal's mask!!

[cerealboxlore]

I caved in and bought another art commission recently for Captain Marvel :D

The artist is @thefruitloop-chan here on tumblr! They are so nice and amazing to commission ❤️ (loop if you see this it's me from twitter!)

I asked for the commission to be based off a scene from MHA and a scene from @wolfsbanesparks work "Split" on Ao3 that reminded me of it. 1000% worth it.

[hijinxinprogress]

The JL keeps trying to stop Captain Marvel from talking to the media (and it’s not working)

The jl held a meeting about marvel’s conduct with cops bc he got a little too excited and suplexed a cop completely fucking forgetting he’s a 7ft buff ass man (the video goes viral for months) and the press is having a fucking field day with this bc ‘Captain Marvel Hates The Government!’ ‘Justice League Member, Captain Marvel, Shows His True Colors…?’ ‘Fawcett Superhero Attacks Civilian!’ ‘Captain Marvel Sends Police Officer to ICU!’ ‘Philadelphia Hero Puts Public Servant In Coma’ and shit like that is on the front page of every newspaper, magazine, and tabloid for the next eight months at least

so they’re like ‘hey you gotta say something! The people think you hate the us government esp the police!’ and he’s just sitting there confused before he says very slowly and clearly ‘But I do…I fucking despise them’

Barry and Hal are fucking losing it bc this is the guy that says ‘darn!’ in the heat of battle and has said on multiple occasions ‘Well, that’s not very nice, now is it?’ to opponents that destroy worlds for fun

like this guy still tries very hard not to make faces at the broccoli on his plate in front of the jl (and fails)

this guy hears a yj member or even the very adult titans cussing and going on the longest rant bc ‘I’ve not heard such foul language in all my years-!’ and what’s this ‘‘I’m an adult’ nonsense?? I’m older than Ravens grandfather 🤨 When you get to be my age-’

they’re all so pissed when they hear him cussing like a sailor playing video games on cyborgs phone the next day and he’s playing fucking temple run at that

[danothan]

in my beautiful mind, barry allen is a golden retriever that needs a slow feeder dog bowl to eat

[johnbottoms]

I think the dcamu's biggest flaw isn't that they choose some of the worst storylines to make into movies . I think it's bc they're so fucking ugly

ew

[roger-that-palidan]

I love him so much, I named one of my Red Dead Online Horses after him.

[redhoodsbf]

search results for, "what to do when the guy you habe a crush on has the same name as you"

[nomaishuttle]

i donot know why im breaking out so bad... augjhhh

[clockwayswrites]

5 Times the JL Learned Batman was Married and the 1 Time They Met the Spouse.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Five.

Barry sped into his seat. The chair rocked with the sudden occupation and settled just before the monitor flicked over from the Justice League logo to Batman’s face.

Barry leaned over to Hal. “Is it just me or is he extra scary all large up on the screen like that?”

“I don’t know,” Hal whispered back with a smirk. “I think the glare loses something.”

“Hum. You know, I don’t think he’s actually glaring yet. I think that’s just the pain,” Barry decided.

The fact that Batman wasn’t at a hundred percent was obvious. Instead of his usual heavily armored suit, he was in some sort of under shirt that definitely wasn’t made for heavy fighting. More startling, he was in a domino like Nightingale wore rather than his full cowl. The edge of a white bandage was stark against his neck.

“Oh come on, don’t say that,” Hal whined, though kept it low enough for only Barry (and nosy Supermen) to hear. “That’s just depressing. Spooky shouldn’t be down and out like that.”

“You know he’d be here in person if he wasn’t, and I mean,” Barry said with a little gesture towards the screen.

Whatever Hal was going to say got put to the side as Wonder Woman stood.

“Obviously, the last mission was a hard one,” she said, as if Batman being too hurt to come in person wasn’t example enough of that. “I believe we can all agree that going over the facts to make sure we are either better prepared for the next threat like this or can even prevent it is wise. Batman, if you will—”

Wonder Woman cut herself off with a bemused smile as she looked at the screen.

There was someone else on the display with Batman. The League couldn’t clearly see the person what with the lighting and camera angle, really they were hardly more than a shadow, but that wasn’t too important. What caught Barry’s attention, at least, was the look on Batman’s face.

It was soft.

Maybe they could just see more without the usual cowl but Batman was looking at the person like Barry had never seen the man look at anyone else.

Batman’s mouth moved, but there was no sound. Still it was obvious that he let out one of his little huffs of air before he leaned forward to accept a water bottle and something else. Medication, Barry guessed, by the way Batman knocked it back. He shook his head once before he glanced back at the screen.

Instantly his face schooled into his normal stoic mask. It was so quick a transformation that if Barry hadn’t seen the soft look himself he wouldn’t have believed it ever existed.

The other figure moved off screen as Batman unmuted. “My apology, apparently I was over due some medication. My husband is a little… pushy about that.”

A loud snort of laughter came off screen.

Batman glanced briefly that way.

“Holy shit, Batman has a husband?” Barry whispered.

“Wild, right?” Hal murmured back.

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

A Day in Life

Synopsis: A day in your life while working as the Justice League's assistant. Also, they are all yanderes for you and it's Valentine's Day.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader

Tw: 18+ just because of a mention of Superman misusing his X-Ray vision and the mention of hooking up, aside from that, this is pretty SFW; Flash and Green Lantern are a little delusional; Hal Jordan is pushy; Batman is probably a little out of character (and I’m ashamed to keep it that way) bc I can't see him giving anyone flowers as Batman, just as Bruce Wayne; Mentions of them all secretly stalking you; This League members are Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, Flash (Barry Allen), Green Lantern (Hal Jordan; John Stewart is mentioned), Aquaman and Martian Manhunter; I wrote too little about Martian Manhunter, Aquaman here because I don't know much about them; Wish I had more ideas for Wonder Woman’s interaction here too cause I love her; My crush on Hal is very obvious; Reader doesn't struggle much against them but they're also pretty tame; The physics in flying and running at super speed might be wrong but this is comic book science so it's wrong either way; English is not my first language.

Word count: 1,6k

Requested? No.

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

The zeta tube flashes and the AI voice announces the arrival of Flash. Your heart goes fast.

— Hey, (Y/N)! — In a flash, he's in front of you. — Happy Valentine's Day! — You tear your eyes off of your schedule on your tablet and see him holding a rose towards you.

— Oh, hey, Flash… — You reply a little tense. — Thank you… You didn't need to. — You hesitantly take the rose from him and whilst your attention is on staring at the flower and holding back a grimace, you miss the glint in his blue eyes. His blush is covered by his mask. His mind seeks for something to say before you decide to break the momentary silence. — You're really sweet, it's great to have a friend like you! — You make sure to exclain, the tone a notch higher, trying to make your point come across. Flash’s face falls.

— Uh- I- Actually- — His speech gets cut off by the zeta announcing Superman. Before you can have a heart attack, the boy scout also zooms in front of you, this time your hair blows back with the wind. He must've come flying.

— (Y/N)’s heart is pounding, what are you doing, Flash? — Superman alternates between looking at your face worriedly, then your chest, then glaring at the speedster by his side.

— What? Nothing! — Flash looks wide-eyed at Superman. Then his mind clicks and he looks at you again. — Wait, what? Your heart is pounding? Is it… Is it because of me?! — You see the dazed look on his face coming to the surface again. Oh boy.

You casually make the effort to take a breath you didn't know you were holding and make your heart go down. You hate when Super uses his X-Ray vision on you. You can never be sure when he is doing it, but why else would he analytically stare specifically at your body when he is worried about you? Also, that time when you commented with Sarah from the kitchen’s crew that you forgot to do your laundry and went to the Watchtower without underwear. Seconds later, Superman appeared in the doorway, looking startled and flustered, ears red. Although he pretended to have just arrived at the tower and you and your friend chose to ignore your embarrassment that your boss with superhearing might have chose that exact moment to focus his hearing on only the places around him, including your too intimate conversation, you still caught him red handed sneaking glances specifically at your hips, and he hurriedly exited the room after that. At the time, you had just recently started the job as the Justice League’s assistant. After that you were a lot more aware.

After a while you realized you had a reason to be.

Superman was glaring at the rose in your hand and Flash was daydreaming while looking at your face when the zeta flashed again and you snapped out of it fast enough that by the time you started talking, your mind didn't pay attention to who had just arrived.

— Hm, no. It's just you fast people are always catching me off guard. — Flash deflates and- Is he pouting? Bro. Superman lights up and looks at you again.

— Oh, sorry, (N/N), we always forget about that. — The alien chuckles while rubbing the back of his head.

— Superman. Flash. — You and Flash jump, but Superman, not surprisingly, doesn't react and just follows you three and looks behind the two heros in front of you to the one with the gruff voice that just arrived.

Flash groans and Superman just rolls his eyes, you can see that while trying to peak past the men’s towering frames blocking you. You don't have to guess much though, because they make space for the newcomer and you suppress a tired sigh at seeing Batman making his way to you with a gigantic arrangement of flowers that covers his entire torso, arms and head, only his bat-ears, legs and cape being visible.

— (Y/N). Those are for you. — Color me shocked. Before you can try to start thinking about how you are gonna take this absurdity anywhere, vengeance speaks. — I'm gonna leave it at your desk.

— Hmhmm. Thank you, Batman. — You refused to watch his retreating form and let any member of your yandere harem think you actually have an interest in any of them and look down at your tablet again. The action makes you remember the rose you're still holding and you hurriedly walk away from the two nutcases stuck glaring at the third and go to his side. — Actually, take this with you. — You stick the rose amongst the rest of the flowers and before any of them can say anything else, you get out of the room.

You take a deep breath. Since the League’s weird obsession started seemingly around a year ago, you had a whole crisis over it. The pay was good, and it increased even more when they took this insane liking to you, so it's not like you could just quit like it was nothing. Besides, it's the Justice League, you could run from the fucking planet and they would still find you. It's easier to adapt.

You go on with your routine for a few minutes until you bump into a neon green brick wall. Scratch that, it's just Green Lantern’s chest.

— Hey, cutie, I was looking for you. — Your eyes widen when the space cop suddenly holds you by the shoulders, pushes you against a wall, then lets you go just to keep his two muscular arms on each side of you, trapping you and keeping you close to his frame. Ugh, the Lantern with brown hair has always been the more touchy one. You miss the one with dark skin and common sense.

— Need me for something? — You hold a groan with the limitless possibilities of how he could use that sentence to be crude, but you just wanted to get rid of him. He smirks.

— I was wondering if you were free today and would like to go on a date with me later… — He knew you were free. You knew he knew you were free. Every time you have a date (and you never told them) the League seems to get more on edge and suddenly your workload increases. Tsk, you hate them. Unfortunately, you love nice things even more.

You raise an eyebrow.

— I don't even know your name. — You point out, maybe that would make him give up, but he just shrugged.

— I could tell you, trust is a fundamental part in any relationship.

— Is a date a relationship? Also I don't think Batman would like that. — Any of that. He cocks his head to the side and his beautiful hair moves down.

— Cutie, you don't have to worry about Spooky. And I don't want to just hook up with you, you know that. Now just stop playing hard to get and-

A golden light catches your attention, it could be a miracle, but it's just Wonder Woman's lasso wrapping around the lantern's neck and pulling him away from you. Unfortunately, she tied a it in a way that the action wouldn't strangle him or break his neck.

— Ugh, men really have no boundaries. — The amazon rolls her lasso back and takes a step towards you, keeping said man sulking behind her while analyzing you. — Forgive my friend, (Y/N). He grew up in a barn. — The stunning demigoddess smiles at you.

Ugh, if she wasn't just as crazy as the rest of them you would happily swoon over her.

— Right. Well, I have to go. — You turn your back to them and take fast but casual steps away from them and the empty hallway. It never fails to scare the shit out of you and give you goosebumps whenever one of them catches you alone in one of those, and the competition between them for your heart somehow makes you confident enough that if there are at least two of them, no harm will come to you.

You clear your throat. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts. The martian should’ve arrived by now and you don't doubt he reads your mind 24/7 when he’s close enough.

You’re about to turn a corridor when you spot Aquaman poking his head in a room, looking for something, it's probably you, only his body is visible and he can't see you.

You hold a groan and run as quietly as possible away from him without him noticing, remembering the time he ranted to you about seahorses being the most romantic fish species, with monogamous mate bonds for lifetime, and all the times he promised to show you Atlantis one day and make you rule his people by his side.

A few minutes later when you look at the clock, you know by that time they're all already in their meeting and not wandering around, desperate for a crumb of your attention. To confirm that, you open the camera’s feed that not many had access to and idly check their presence in the meeting room. Your stomach churns seeing your figure in one of their monitors, the others displaying normal missions info. Of course they would follow you around through the cameras, because that's just as important as discussing wars and crisis in Earth countries and other planets.

You passively shut the screen when you finally get to your office, in which you avoid staying until you absolutely have to, or the coast is clear enough to, otherwise it's the most obvious place for them to force an interaction with you.

You look up and your shoulders drop in defeat at the sign of too many flowers, gifts and letters from each member of the League.

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DC Taglist:

@wandalfnation

[blueboybot]

A Lantern's Light

This time it isn't Batman, Superman or even Wonder Woman that has a secret child. Rather, it is none other than our resident Green Lantern, Hal Jordan.

Memory holds knowledge and within that knowledge holds power.

Maybe Star Sapphire and Green Lantern did manage to live a happy life before everything went to ruins.

When Danny unexpectedly gets saved by Hal they both stop, just looking at each other...

_____________

Danny should've been faster. He saw the fight, he knew how close they were and yet he didn't think to use one of his many ghost powers to get far away. Now he was about to be crushed by a giant piece of apartment building. It won't kill him but it was sure going to be a mess on the streets and that will bring more attention to him than he wants.

Before the giant piece of stone could do its job a green light encased it, not exactly like the ecto-green he saw with other ghost, and stopped it from making him the human pancake he was destined to be, green slightly poisonous syrup included. When the stone was put aside Danny was able to see the hero Green Lantern.

Now Danny has only ever seen the man on tv or far away while the other fights and even then he didn't pay him much interest. But now that he was here, now that he was so close to him Danny felt something. His core, his soul...it knew this man, it new Green Lantern.

"Hey kid you need to go this place isn't safe...for...you..."

__________

Hal is a lot of things.

A test pilot who worked for Ferris Aircraft.

A member of the Green Lantern Corps working with other Green lanterns and venturing out into parts of space that he thought was never possible for him.

A member of the Justice League where he fights alongside other heroes, taking down any evil that threatens the earth and making sure it is a safer place for its inhabitants.

But.

There was a time when he was blessed with a miracle and became a father to the cutest baby in the world. His baby boy that he took almost everywhere with him, playing with him and watching as those blue eyes lit up with enough joy to power a house.

Hal doesn't like to think about those memories now, they always came accompanied with the sound of thunder, rain, screaming and crying. He lost everything that day and he was sure he'd never see those eyes again.

So why...why were they looking back at him?

__________

Danny did not know what was happening to him right now and he was a bit scared. Him and Green Lantern have just been there staring at each other, not saying anything, just staring.

Green Lantern touched the down on the ground and very slowly started walking towards him. Danny couldn't find it in himself to move, he was paralysed and it wasn't completely with fear.

When he was close enough enough Green Lantern looked down at him, not in the arrogant way, almost as if he didn't realize how short Danny would be. Danny was in a bit of awe of how much bigger and more muscled the man looked up close, the way his masked eyes looked as if they almost glowed. Despite all of this Danny didn't feel any of the fear one should when a man this big corners you, rather, he felt safe.

Green Lantern reached out his hand to hold the side of Danny's face softly and he melted into the touch. This feeling of safe and comfort was almost too much, he hadn't this way in a long time, not since he had to run and leave everyone and everything he loved behind. He didn't even realize he was crying.

A loud boom shook the ground they were standing on and Green lantern turned around, it was all that was need to break whatever weird spell was on Danny. Using his invisiblity to stay out of sight he took off, using flight to fly far away from Green Lantern.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

You're my favorite writer, and König is my favorite aussie man, so OF COURSE im making you write for him, hal, BEAR W ME !

Alright, what do you think about König with the “You’re here late.” prompt? The reader is part of KorTac and always worked alongside König, since they both entered about the same time, because of the readers personality, they are always fighting, one of these fights are specifically bad, leading the reader to go on a mission with another KorTac member, to help out somewhere else and take their mind off things, when the reader face a problem on the mission and ends up arriving late, König is furious.

Moths Hit the Window

PAIRING: König x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Fights with König were always loud, but this time his comments went a bit too far.

WORD COUNT: 5.9k

WARNINGS: Verbal fighting, angst, high tension, blood & stitches, wounds, canon typical violence, guns/weapons, death, suggestive near the end, fluff, hurt/comfort, etc.

A/N: Huge thanks to @idocarealot for the German translations!! Also, König's wearing the arachnid skin in this because I love it sm - enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You seethe. If eyes could turn red yous would be a beautiful shade of crimson—bloody knives ripping out of the cornea to strike whoever happened to get too close. It was as if the very air boiled with the force of a raging tsunami as you stomped down the local military base’s hallways, covered in blood and guts. Never had you reconsidered working for KorTac more than at this very moment. 

Maybe I should just become a mercenary, you rip at the torn-apart gloves over your hands and jerk your arm out. Passerbyers quickly avert their eyes as you shove them into a garbage can and continue on with a growl. No shitty rules, no regulations—no fucking partners.

If people happened to slide past without noticing the steam coming out of your ears, they would have immediately locked eyes on the pure elephant of a man trailing fast behind. König’s eyes were goring into the back of your neck, gray and tan garb swaying as the packs and flash grenades on his combat vest bounced with every step. Accents of red do nothing in comparison to his visible flesh—the section of his eyes uncovered by his mask and head rig alight around his obsidian gaze. 

 König was muttering to himself far under his breath, curses and harsh comments all in German that he wouldn’t say to your face. At least not right now in view of others. 

“I can hear you, you dimwit,” you hiss over your shoulder, grinding your teeth as you both make your way to the armory, “curse me out quieter!” 

“You are making a scene!” The beast grunts, that heavily accented English striking your eardrums with its harsh dialect. 

“Oh, jeez!” You raise your voice even higher, turning back forward and clenching your hands into fists as blood and guts drip off your gear—none of it yours. “I’m just so damn embarrassed, König! I’m making such a large and obnoxious display. Whatever will I do?!” Sarcasm like a valuable drug is injected into the waves of your voice. People from open doorways look out with shock, brows pulled up. 

Everyone quickly darts back away when you snap your head in their direction and send them a scathing glare.

No one was surprised to find you and the Austrian going at it again but knew well enough to stay out of the crossfire. Lest someone get roped into it.

“Fuck off!” You spit the last curse into the burning air and shove past a soldier ahead of you.

König’s dark eyes flash dangerously, lips under his mask twisting into a sneer. The man’s shoulders seem to dig in even farther, spine curling over as if a brooding child. 

This had all started the second you’d joined up with KorTac. Fresh out of the military and eager to get back into the game after a good vacation the PMC group had been at the top of your list. But if you’d known you’d be paired up with this damn mountain every chance there was just because he’d got into the game at nearly the same time as you, you’d have put in your luck with SpecGru. 

“I do not see how this is appropriate behavior,” König follows as you place your palms on the black metal of the armory door, pressing with your shoulders. “I did what I was tasked to do—”

The masked man is cut off as you whirl on your heels, the door slamming shut as his body is shoved into it with strong arms. Dark eyes go wide in surprise, feeling the dig of your nails on his abdomen as your form presses into him and the chill of the door on his spine. You feel his skin bunch under his thick shirt and even if you want to stare him down that’s just not an option. Your warm figures shuffle together with panting breaths and dangerous glints in your eyes. 

“Bull,” you drag out the word, growling it right up into his neck; sniper hood caressing your chin. König’s breath hitches with shakes of swirling emotions. “Shit.”

Shoving once more so he gets the point, you push off of him and stalk away like a feral wolf, already unclipping grenades and medical packs from your vest. 

“You’re the damn reason the target got away!” Gear is thrown haphazardly to the long table in the center of the room. The Austrian watches with predatory eyes, hands clenched so hard that they quiver. He stays still, watching, as you send scathing glances. “The reason we’re going to be here for ten times longer than we’re supposed to be!” 

“It is not my fault you failed to properly check the perimeter before you rushed in like a fool.” Volatile couldn’t be used to describe this…this was nothing short of volcanic. It was as if there were two sides of a scale filled with bullets and gunpowder—fire in the middle that was equally heating both piles as they raised and lowered erratically. König’s voice grates over the air, “I did what I could to fix your scheiße plan!”

“Don’t you shit on my plan!” You point, voice bouncing off the weapon racks as you rip the rifle strap from over your chest, chucking it away. 

“I will shit on it—it was…it was…!”  König’s voice cuts out and he can’t find the words. The Austrian descends into visceral German ramblings. “Es war so ziemlich der schlechteste Plan, den ich je gehört hab. Welcher halbwegs vernünftige Mensch geht in eine heiße Zone ohne vorher alle Zielobjekte richtig zu markieren?! Ich kann dich und deine Rücksichtslosigkeit nicht mehr leiden — du bringst mich um meinen Verstand! Hast du überhaupt ein Gehirn in deinem Schädel?”

You shake your head to yourself, heart pounding. “You’re still the one that was supposed to focus on the HVT. I rushed so he would flush out, but, no,” taking out the magazine of the rifle you hold it in your hands like an accusatory ruler that a teacher would hold. König shoves off the door and stands to his full height; arms tensed and straining before they coil around his chest in a soothing gesture. 

He hated the fighting—the constant strain between the two of you. But when you were together it could never amount to anything else. The room felt like it was a million degrees.

Your eyes stab at him, “No! You had to go and focus on me! I hate to break this to you,  König,” feet come forward and you once again find yourself close to him—breathing the same air and taking in the scent of gunpowder and blood. You point the tip of the magazine into his chest. His unseen lips pull; jaw clenching with held-back fire. “But I am not your damn mutt to keep on a leash. I had it under control.”

It’s as if you don’t realize the Austrian could snap you in half with a single kick of his leg, as if the sheer size of König had slipped your mind as a whole. His hands could snap your neck in an instant, but that was only if he got ahold of you. 

But that was a line the both of you were never planning to cross. Words were one thing in this profession, actions another. If you ever got into a physical fight, you’d both kill each other, no doubt. 

You’d like to think you’re a bit above that, but perhaps not.

König’s chest rises and falls deeply, taking in calming breaths as he tries to get his temper under control. “You didn’t,” he jeers out, “I saved your life, you Heißluftgebläse. And if you wanted to be treated less than a dog,” he grunts to you, head pulling down close to your face, harshly whispering out, “You could have simply asked me, yes?”

You both snarl at each other's throats like rabid animals, the world disappearing all around the obsidian eyes that match with yours; for a moment you get lost in the shining bits of silver in his iris that seem to burn with chilled iron. What little skin you can see is flushed and tight—hawk nose nearly poking out your eye as you’re leaned over like a giraffe near a bush.

Body vibrating, you sharply breathe, “I’m not even going to ask what that fucking means, you tool.”

“Good.” The words are bitten and fast, “because I am not telling you.”

“Great!”

“Perfekt!” You both were arguing like children. Hot faces and unwilling to let the other have the last word. If you got along it might have been funny. 

“I’m going to dump all of your Einspänner out on the tarmac.” Your sure voice echoes with a definitive promise to the tone. 

Pale lids widen in horror at the threat to the Austrian's favorite beverage, comfortably sitting in the Base’s fridge. 

“You would not,” König’s tone is deathly serious and you smirk, eyes dancing. “You…” a guttural growl meets the air, mind translating words and giving meanings, “beast of a woman!”

“Oh, is that the best you can fucking do?!” You yell, splaying your hands out widely and moving away from him. “Now that’s really a show stopper, König, I’m shaking in my damn boots.” 

“Ich komm mit dir nicht mehr klar.” König yells, moving back and placing both of his hands atop his head, knuckles white. “You’re rude—you do not even try to get along. You are loud and disrespectful; how do you live like this?!”

Your eyes slightly widen, watching the Austrian.

“Don’t try?” You echo, scoffing loudly. “What do you mean don’t try? I was the one to try and smooth things out between us in the beginning.”

“When?!” König spreads his hands out, knees slightly bent. “Because I have no recollection of such events.”

“Well of course you wouldn’t!” The heat was meeting a breaking point—words were getting more personal, sharper. Like a blade being honed for the kill slowly; being sharpened by rocks and whetstones of conviction. 

König points a finger at you, voice going low and thin, “I’ve had enough of you, yes?” His sniper hood moves rapidly with his fast ricochets of breath. “Just about enough. Would you have wanted me to let you die?”

“I had it,” your lips spit, nose scrunched, and forehead tight. The man’s chest vibrates with a mute growl. 

In all actuality, you’d never seen him this worked up before. König wasn’t above giving your quips back even if he obviously disliked it—most of that was due to the strange familiarity between the two of you. In large crowds, the man preferred to stay silent. This only added to his almost deadly aura with others, though you knew the muteness was because of social anxiety and not some built silence. He wasn’t shy per se, just afraid he’d say something wrong; mess up the conversation. You did most of the talking in meetings and you never minded it. Added him in when the topic was something he knew a lot about.

Your mind had addled it up to thinking it was cute, actually. How his feet would shuffle; his half-lidded gaze and his intense eye contact to let them know he was still listening. When he’d have to remind himself to look away with a pinch to his thigh because it was starting to seem threatening. It was endearing, even.

But around people König knew, well, he was going to speak his mind. No matter how long it takes his brain to catch up with his lips.

The only thing the two of you were good at was being moths—hitting the metaphorical window over and over on the same topics and tension points. Slamming heads and flapping wings. You were at the end of your rope just as he was.

“I should have never taken you as a partner!” He calls, feet splayed. “Should have gotten out of this the second you were assigned with me. Gott, ich hab wirklich versucht, dich zu verstehen — Ich hätte gleich aufgeben sollen.” Your lips thin, lungs stalling as all the air vacates the room. You stand still and listen to what he really thinks, fingers shaking.

König’s large form towers over all, great sparks of electricity flying out. His gear shakes as he moves, thigh straps pushing fabric to shift and conform to his body. Your blood pumps with brewing hesitance. 

Maybe this had gone too far. I’ve never seen him like this.

“I can’t stand you any longer! Pathetic squabbles that mean nothing, absolutely ludicrous plans that make little headway.” Your head bursts with aggression and what little warning signs you have are squashed. “I can’t keep saving you because you can’t do your job correctly!”

“You don’t have to save me at all!” You scream. “You can’t keep your damn eyes off of me for five seconds, König.” Feet move away quickly from the armory door as if someone had come to put away their stuff but thought better of it. The next words burst from you before you can think of the contents. “It’s like you fucking love me or something!”

König doesn’t miss a beat, but for months afterward, he wishes he had.

“Oh, do not make me laugh—” he scoffs ferally, adrenaline making him talk, “as if anyone could ever love a woman like you in the first place.” 

Twin eyes widen and both parties immediately fall silent. A sharp inhale.

Too far.

Under the hood, König’s face goes an embarrassing shade of red all the way down to his chest. Fingers freeze. Jaw slackens.

You feel like your heart was just grasped in his grip and ripped out of your ribs with one violent motion—one sentence out of all the others enough to knock down the rebuttal that had formed on the tip of your tongue. Your throat closes up as you blink in shock.

“I-I…” König stutters, mind blanking as he struggles for words. But anger was easier than pain.

Numb fingers rip off the last of your weapons and belongings as you let them hit the floor with defining thuds as warm shame floods your cheeks. Shaky puffs of breath like a panting dog. Dark eyes watch with regretful panic, heart jumping and eyes flinching. The adrenaline it…it made him forget himself on occasion—how to properly act when not on the battlefield. It was like that with everyone but…but he hadn’t meant that.

Shame that it’s already too late.

Your fisted hand slams into his chest, brutal and unforgiving. König lets off a grunt but does nothing as you slither past, hissing into his ear, “Find yourself a new punching bag.”

His hand snaps to his breast where you had slammed your KorTac patch right into his heart, catching it. It’s many moments before he can think enough through the alarm; form words.

“I…I didn’t…oh, du blöde Kuh!” 

By the time the man composed himself, panicked tears burning in his eyes, the door had already slammed shut. His feet squeaked over the tile to an empty audience. 

—

Private Military Companies don’t have ranks. There are no Sergeants, Lieutenants, Generals or Colonels. Just people. Beyond the orders you’d been hired on, there was nothing keeping you in line with König on this mission. And those orders were loose at best.

Adhere to policy and listen to the Base’s COs. Shut up and get the job done. 

The Austrian and you weren’t due out for another week because of rotations. Since you’d failed to capture or kill the HVT that you were assigned, another group had picked up the tracks in the meantime. Like an oiled machine, the gears of this operation kept whirling. 

Evolve, or die. 

“Lieutenant!” You call to the geared-up man on the tarmac—the one heading that very same group. It had been only a few hours since the incident in the armory. You needed a distraction; blood was still running high and brain pounding for release. There were only so many times you could bruise your fists and legs on a punching bag before people started giving you nervous looks. “Need an extra hand?”

Your voice sounds strained, even to you. The man looks you over once and narrows his eyes. Nods not moments later. 

“Get tired of your big friend? Okay, how fast can you be ready for me?” You feel your shoulders loosen, a relieved sigh exiting your lips.

“Three minutes.”

“...get to it then. We move in five.” 

So that was how you found yourself backed into a corner five hours into the op from hell—bloody knife held tightly in your grip and mouth open in ragged pants. 

“Fuck,” your vest is torn and riddled with bullets; your entire chest must be bruised by now because it surely aches like it is. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You really are reckless, just like König had said you were. Maybe you’d just never realized it because he always seemed to watch your six. This…this was really bad. The comms were awash with screaming orders and panic, ringing out across the abandoned mining factory that exploded with light from gunfire and the sounds that accompanied it. You knew for a fact three soldiers were down; two KIA. 

The Lieutenant is one of them. 

Your hand snaps to the radio strapped to your chest, one eye squinted in pain at the ragged slice across your left brow line. At your feet, two heavily armed men lay dead. 

“Pull back! They knew we were coming!” But your word didn’t carry weight here. Your face twists between pain and rage. König’s comment still rings in your ears as the onset of tinnitus does, as if anyone could ever love a woman like you in the first place. It wasn’t ideal to be thinking about this now—it was detrimental that you didn’t. 

But König and the things he did often stained your brain. No matter how much you tried to distance yourself from that fact. 

Snapping the knife in your grasp down in an arch to dispel the blood from the blade, you take a steel-laced inhale and shove off the wall. Limping, but moving. Sprained ankle. Nothing you hadn’t dealt with before.

The concrete under you is splattered with crimson viscera and you stumble over spasming bodies riddled with bullets. With a subdued shink you slip your knife into its thigh sheath, grabbing the FTac Recon strapped around your chest after slamming a fresh mag into it. With a numb calm overcoming you, you slip your forefinger into the trigger guard, poised over the easy press of the trigger itself. 

The long shadows spread over you; your head illuminated by the dull sheen of the moon as you pass under a stretch of open sky to slink into the building across the empty street. Feral yells still bounce off the air and you go to them readily, purpose settling in your veins. 

Pain flies to the back of your mind, displaced by adrenaline and the rabid puffs of breath that fall like grinding thunder from your lips.  

You wonder what König’s thinking right now—he’d without a doubt noticed that you were gone. He’d even probably gone to your barracks room to try and apologize and found it empty. That was just how he was. 

Would he be happy? You wondered. Relieved to see you out of his life? You’d both done nothing but fight, but there were moments of peace. Understanding. 

Shared meals and comfortable, yet sarcastic, comments; soft glances when the other wasn’t looking. Heat in your face and obviously shown on his when shy hands brushed. 

Your hold tightens on your gun, brows dripping with sweat as it dribbles down along with the blood. Gunfire flashes. 

Closer now.

Shadows scream on top of a raised walkway attached to an in-mountain compound, targets with trigger fingers firing on your fellows who take cover behind crumbling walls. Pinned down. You watch, unseen, from a broken window as dust and moths collide. 

Your eyes lock on the closest hostile and you raise your weapon slowly, barrel resting on the frame between shattered glass. You clock the distance and adjust accordingly; breaths falling steady. 

The small insect that keeps hitting the window plays in your mind over and over—drowning out the yells; the fire. 

Just a moth readily willing to smash into that barrier until it dies. You hum under your breath and rest the gun into the crook of your shoulder, cheek to stock. 

Your finger slams into the trigger. 

—

You stumble out of the loud infirmary with a bloody rag pressed deeply into your forehead, medical pouch under one arm. You hear rushing feet and barked orders from nurses and doctors just before the door closes, cutting off as you stake out on your own.

Limping, you reason there were others with more severe wounds than your own; as blood drips from your flooded rag, your feet take you deep into the base one broken step at a time. You’d figure it out yourself. 

Plus, the silence would give you time to think. Think about König. 

You just gritted your teeth and decided that was better than taking up space in the infirmary. 

In times like these, the Austrian would fix your wounds for you, just as you did his. While you had your disagreements and heated fights, he’d never made it as personal as he had hours beforehand. Never made it hurt. 

“Jesus,” you mutter, rubbing your other crusty hand over the mud along your chin. Everything ached and you don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing. 

Flinching along like a downed bird, you shove through into the last door into the barracks; thoughts now stuck on finding a chair to sit down on before your legs gave out. The darkness of the common area was deep—staining your eyelids as you grunt, bumping into the back of the couch. 

It’s almost funny the way the lamp flicked on mere moments later. 

You hiss, eyes snapping shut as the rays attack your sight, rendering you blind for a moment. The shaking hand on your dripping rag tightens before the spark of pain makes you lighten the pressure. 

There’s a dark grunt just as you open your eyes back up.

“You are late.” König. 

He sits in one of the chairs—sniper hood still over his head yet only clothed in a large compression shirt and casual camo pants. Like a disappointed parent, the Austrian’s arms were crossed over his chest; feet resting out and crossed at the ankles. With such a big stature the look could strike fear into anyone. 

Anyone but you, that is. 

König’s dark eyes rove over you, stopping immediately on the fabric you keep to your forehead. The previous, furious, tone stops and the flash of very real concern takes precedence. His hands tighten on his biceps, thighs tensing over the cushion; spine just a little bit straighter. 

You watch and say nothing—dead-faced. 

Your heart suddenly skips beats, stuck into the framework of the man’s eyes. König’s brows peel back and a timid stutter stays in your breast.

“...Vögelchen?” Lids blink rapidly, and before you can register anything because of your blood loss and fatigue, you’re being dragged to the couch and forced to sit down. 

Strong hands encompass your shoulders and small breaths flutter in front of your face as König peels back to kneel in front of you; spying the medical pouch in your under-arm. 

“What is this?” He mutters to you, vision flinching along your body but always dragging back to the bloody rag on your face. “What did you do to yourself?” 

Scarred hands raise before pausing, obsidian eyes staring deeply into yours as if in frantic question. Your own gaze keeps him close, spying on his veiled fear at the sight of your blood and your disappearance. He’d heard about the mission, then, that much was upfront because of his earlier comment. 

The humvee had been late arriving back. Half an hour. 

“Fuck off,” you utter, shoving off the couch before you’re captured in an unyielding press again, shoved down. Your anger spikes along with your unease, “König! I don’t have the patience—”

“I’m sorry.” The fight leaves you. 

Fingers squeeze your biceps, hold lightly shaking with nerves. “I did not mean it.” Obsidian pierces you, “Please, Vögelchen, I am sorry. Utterly. I speak so fast I misplace words—get far more,” words fail as you stare so intently at him, a strange feeling swirling in your gut. König’s face was going crimson again, though not from anger. His tone was deep and honest, accent becoming more whole with emotion. The hands on your skin stay. “Rude than I intend. It is not an excuse, but…”

In the horizontal oval of his hood, you spy the dots of tiny freckles; the whispers of auburn hair. That hawk nose still points violently from behind the fabric. König never finishes his sentence, just takes a large breath and looks to the side after a moment of silence. 

Then he steals the medical pack from your grip and opens the zipper with firm fingers, taking out gloves and gauze. Needle and sutures. It’s all placed on the side table as the bear of an Austrian stays on his knees for you—bending and shifting as the bottom of his shirt rides up. 

It’s a tense affair of touching skin; warmth and hissed curses. Gentle shushing. But you say nothing through it. Until he’s up in your face trying off stitches with forceps and a needle holder, breath making his hood lightly caress your bloodless face. His fingers are large and firm, never second-guessing or stuttering over the course of directing tools that dig a needling and thread into your flesh. 

He’s warm and every motion elicits shivers. You see his form from the side of your eye; his face’s outline as the lamp light illuminates the hood’s fabric. Shadowy silhouette of König’s strong jaw that shifts with every other breath from his wide chest. 

“You’re an asshole for saying that to me, y’know.” you slip your gaze away just as he snaps over. “Adrenaline or not.” 

The needle pauses and a swift nod is given. 

“I…I know it was. No amount of apologizing can explain how very horrible I feel. It was like I was so…so…” An annoyed grunt was leveled at himself.

“Pissed off?” You offer quietly. 

“Yes! Pissed off.” Amused glances were shared, the air slowly smoothing out between the two of you. Dark eyes quickly look away from yours and König clears his throat terse-like. But softer, steadier, “I…could not bear it if I were to see you in harm and be unable to assist you. That…is why I was watching. Why I do watch you.”

Inside of you, it was like there was a pot of water on the stove, steadily boiling under the heat. Your eyes are delicately wide when the man’s hands leave your face; kneeling body still tall enough to stare into you.

“You are…” König pauses, but not to find the words. To ready himself. He takes a long breath. “You are special to me, my Vögelchen. I can not see you hurt,” a gesture to your forehead and creased eyes. As if your pain was his own. “Not like this.”

“What are you saying, König?” You whisper, face twisted with hurt and confusion. Apprehension. “You’re giving me mixed signals. We always fight with each other. I’m not saying I’m blameless, but…c’mon, now. Look at us.” 

“Not…always.” He grumbled like a child, tools placed away and hands dripping blood before he slips the gloves off. They meet the side table with a tiny toss. The Austrian leans back onto his ankles, butt to heel. He begins to look at your forehead and you can practically hear his heart break. “I do not like arguing with you, you know that, yes?” 

“Me neither,” you whisper, fingers fiddling as a sheen of anxiousness sets in. “You just,” you pause, “confuse me.”

 König blinks in surprise, head tilting and large eyes shimmering. Your mind flashes to a curious cat and you try to explain with a burning face and fast lips.

“You say we’re partners but you never act like it,” he stares and listens. When had you both had a conversation like this before? “You make it seem like you can’t trust me to do the simplest task. I’m not,” your voice betrays you, cracking, “I’m not that useless, am I?” 

He freezes, muscles going taunt. 

“U-Useless? Nutzlos? No, no,” A hand comes to capture your chin and you let him move you where he wishes. Creased eyes lock on yours. “That is not right. You’re not useless to me—how could you be?” Pained brows move in, “did I make you think like this? Like I did not appreciate your skills?” 

Your eyes burn, and the aches from your wounds mix with the pure fatigue in your flesh to leave your emotions running between sanity and sadness. A moment later you’re turning your head away. 

König recaptures it, hands finding both sides of your cheeks. He looks shaky; desperate. 

“No, please, Vögelchen, please. I need you to look at me.”

“König, I don’t—” You close your mouth before you let out the beginnings of a sob. “I can’t keep fighting with you.”

“I know, oh, I know,” his hands are so grounding it’s like you’re the inner pages of a book, and his grip the thick leather cover—leather laced with shared scars and the same that had stitched you up countless times. This push and pull had to end. “I cannot fight with you either—it tears me apart. Oh, du weißt gar nicht, wie sehr es mich schmerzt, dein wunderschönes Gesicht anzuschreien. Mit dir zu streiten bedeutet, meinen Verstand und mein Herz gleichzeitig zu brechen.” König’s thumbs run up and down your skin, still bloody with dried flakes falling to the ground. He seems not to care a bit. 

“What can I do to fix this? Anything. Anything to get us to stop doing this to each other.” You stare into his eyes, both creased and glazed over. 

There’s a brief moment where you wonder if anyone truly even knew you as well as König did—there was no one else that you shared such a deep connection with. Years upon years of being stuck at his side. 

And someone else’s hands had never felt as good as his. They were hard and callused over but cupped your face as gently as one would cup water from a rippling stream. His eyes were stars; visible skin like porcelain, his breath raised a large and wide chest with a fast-paced heart. You could sense his throat trapping air. 

König kneeled to you and bared himself. 

Anything, he had said, to fix what he had said. To stop this. 

There was one way you could think to stop this—it might not have been smart, certainly not, but…hmm…You gradually raised your hand raised from your lap and slipped it under the front of König’s hood. 

Slowly, with all the delicateness of a glass dragonfly, your fingers strayed to the side of his neck to press into tight flesh. A rapid pulse.

The man goes to stone. It’s like you’ve stolen his nervous system. Dark eyes stay locked onto yours as you gaze back, hand dragging nails up with a light pressure near to the speed of a slug. 

König whispers your name into the empty space and the oxygen seems to dry up. Warm light from the lamp cast phantoms on walls and over skin in a small moment of foreign discoveries. The Austrian swallows saliva and you feel his neck flex. You don’t answer him, just watch and feel his own hands tighten on your cheeks in warning. 

But you never listen, do you? Reckless you were called. And König had been right.

You were reckless.

Your hand had now explored like a map the indents of hidden facial scars; long and short over jaw and lips. The hand that was doing this had hiked the sniper’s hood up around your wrist so that the man’s lashes were twitching as the fabric got too close to his eyes. And you watched. And so did he. 

A twin pair of moths hitting a glass window, staring from opposite sides at one another until they realized the break in the frame. 

“Anything?” You ask in a loose tone, barely heard above the flood in both of your ears. 

König was breathing heavily but didn’t pull away. Pupils wide and body heavy to your touch. His spine briefly straightened, until he realized he had moved back slightly and immediately hunched again if only to keep your hands on him. 

“I…” he grunts, “A…anything.” Fingers touch his nose, they spread under the hood to trace the bumps and marks he keeps hidden like buried treasure. Your vision takes in the otherworldly hue on his visible skin; the glaze of rapture in his eyes yet still that ingrained heat. 

Your body shivers at the gravel in his accented English. 

Fingers stall over his lips, hood showing you the pale being of König’s strong chin and jaw. You shift your touch to the side and find chapped lips revealed to you, a small palate scar that had healed to nothing more than a line up to his nostril. 

You spare it nothing more than a glance before you look back into obsidian. Dark ether and dead galaxies devoid of stars. Swallowed in a sea of pasts and futures. You look for hesitation; for disgust. 

You find none. 

“You said that no one could ever love someone like me,” your head leans in, and your breath mingles together with an intimacy that had never been shared between this type of partners. König, as if broken from a spell, takes down a swift inhale of air into his stiff lungs. He stares with far back lids. Flashes of unidentified emotions. “Why did you say that?”

A moment of silence and of rabid hearts. The man’s lips twitch over yours as he answers slowly, not breaking eye contact for a moment. As if he did he’d be turned to rock. As if he’d miss something amazing from happening. 

He speaks with a whispered confession.

“Because if they did—I would have to kill them. Because no other than I would be able to love you more.” Your world slows and your ears strain with the breathy words. 

Face burning your lips part with shock and awe. Violent to any other, but to you this was a confession from a man that could meet you blow for blow—calm you and infuriate you all in one. Challenge you, but knew when he’d gone too far and how to properly apologize. 

He’d waited in that chair for you all night, you’d realized. 

For you to come back to him. His partner. 

You press your lips to his and hear his pitiful sounds of gasped reassurance. Slipping your tongue into his mouth, you let saliva drip off of your chins to splatter onto bent knees and shaking thighs.

König’s arms cage you; capture your waist and draw you closer, lips breaking apart before you both share a wide-eyed look of momentary pause. There was no room to breathe; to think. Chests hit together and fingers tighten to a tendon-visible hold.

The man's growing smile is wide from where you still hold his hood up by his nose, and with a lick of his red and wet lips, he reconnects your awaiting mouths. 

This time, you’re the one to gasp.

“Lass mich zeigen, wie leid es mir tut, Vögelchen.”

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[zylev-blog]

Danny was pissed. He was chilling in the Speedforce, waiting on his dad—the Flash—to show up when he felt something shift around him. He exited the speedforce to find that the timeline had changed again, and he had been written out of the timeline. He technically was a time anomaly now, and didn’t exist. So he talked to Clockwork, a ghost he’d gotten to know extremely well after Danny’s creation.

Danny was a clone of the Flash and Green Lantern(Hal Jordan) as part of an experiment that Lex Luthor had taken prior to cloning Superboy. Lex had wanted to know if the power ring was able to transmit anything genetically (it couldn’t. It was a wearable weapon, not a genetic thing.) but Danny had inherited Flash’s superspeed, so he wasn’t a complete loss. Danny wasn’t sure if he looked more like either man, considering they both wore masks. He had brown hair and green eyes. Beyond that, he tanned well, was tall for his age, and packed on muscle far easier than the Flash did. He hadn’t ever seen either man out of the costume.

After a talk with Clockwork, he decided he was just going to force his way back into his Dad’s life. Both of them, if possible. He arrived years before his creation by mistake, right near the start of the Justice League. By his estimates, the team had only been formed for a year before he’d arrived. It was strange; he both didn’t exist and was from the future. He guessed that it was around nine years before his birth, and since he was technically six months old, he was 9 years in the past. Thinking about this was going to give him a headache.

The Justice League was severely mistrustful of each other. They didn’t go out of their way for teamups, didn’t have weekly meetings, and almost pretended if the other members didn’t exist. The most recluse of them was Batman, of course. If any hero set foot in Gotham, they were booted out before they even got to downtown. Danny highly suspected Batman had the entire city on camera. The situation was weirding him out more than before. What had happened to the team?! He was used to everyone being one big family, and even the sidekicks having their own teams… speaking of sidekicks, why was Robin so small?! Wait a minute, that wasn’t the third Robin that he was used to, that was the first Robin! Baby Nightwing!

Thankfully for him, he still had his costume on this entire time as he zipped around the country, spying on the younger members of the Justice League. It was surreal watching everyone try to capture him, but he wasn’t going to be caught that easily!

Eventually his presence forced the Justice League into another teamup. Batman laid the trap out, and Flash lured him into it. The plan was so beautiful that he didn’t even realize it was a trap until he was caught in it. Green Lantern took off Danny’s mask, and for the first time, he looked at his fathers without a mask. They didn’t make the connection to him right away. It wasn’t until Wonder Woman’s lasso made its way around his wrist that the truth finally came out.

“Who are you?” Wonder Woman asked.

“Oof , hard question—ow ow oww—I’m being honest!” He struggled against the lasso as it started to burn him. “My designation was Dn-y, I go by Danny, though. I’m a clone.”

“Of who?” Batman demanded.

“Flash and Green Lantern.” The lasso was glowing brightly, indicating that he was telling the truth.

“How did you escape?” Flash asked.

He didn’t answer right away. He was trying to think about how to phrase the whole time traveling—timeline erasure thing when the lasso started to burn him again. “Ow ow! Sorry, I’m thinking! Ow! Turn down the settings on that thing, holy shit—okay, okay.” He winced, his words coming out in one breath as he quickly talked, “What do you know about time travel?”

Diana’s eyebrows were rising. “How are you able to resist the lasso for so long?”

“I’m not really resisting it.” He answered, noting the obvious deflect of his last question, “I just-oww—okay! My mind moves too fast for me to put into words sometimes and it makes me stop to think about it, but like, I’m not good at controlling the speed in which I speak all the time—owww make this thing stop burning me! I’m speaking honestly!”

Diana revoked the lasso, and he rubbed his wrist where his costume was starting to singe. He was still trapped in an anti-speedster prison, so it wasn’t exactly like he was going anywhere anyway.

“Why were you asking about time travel?” Batman asked.

“Based on the crickets chirping I heard earlier, that leads me to believe you guys haven’t had any experience in it yet.” He leaned against the wall of the prison, wincing as it shocked him with electricity. “Seriously? How paranoid are you, Batman?” He rubbed his shoulder. “Honestly, I don’t know what I was expecting with you people, but I feel so attacked right now.”

“So we have experience with it in the future?” Superman piped up.

“Yeah?” His tone of voice equated to a ‘duh’ tone. “Why would I ask what you knew if I wasn’t from the future?”

“How far in the future are you from?” Green Lantern asked.

“Nine years, maybe close to ten? Timelines are weird. I’m technically six months old, but at the same time I’m sixteen. Cloning is odd, but I was like, the first clone ever, so I don’t really have a basis for this sort of thing, if you catch my drift.” He shrugged. He seemed like he talked a lot more than the heroes did, but he didn’t know if that was because he was a chatterbox, or because they weren’t comfortable in each other’s presence. Either way, the silence was odd to him.

“How did you end up here?” Batman asked.

“Honestly? I don’t fully know. Don’t give me that look, Diana! I’m telling the truth.” He added quickly as Diana fingered her lasso again. “All I know is one minute, I’m chilling in the Speedforce, and the next, the timeline is changed and I’m nine years too early for my birth. You’d think the timeline would at least have the decency to spit me out in my own year, but nooo, it wanted to—“

“What’s the Speedforce?” Superman interrupted.

He tilted his head at Superman’s question, then turned to the Flash. “How long have you had your powers?”

Flash shifted uncomfortably. “Two years.”

“Oh boy.” Danny’s green eyes widened. “You don’t know anything about them, do you?”

“I do know things!” Flash deflected, “My suit doesn’t catch on fire anymore! I can run up to Mach 2! I can get from either end of the country in thirty minutes!”

He groaned loudly. “Oh no. Oh no.” He chewed on his thumb, trying to recall everything he’d learned about his powers from his Flash. While he hadn’t learned his or Green Lantern’s identity yet, he knew almost everything about their hero personas and a lot of personal information. They were just worried of the Cadmus connection and didn’t want their identity to fall into the wrong hands if they still could see inside of Danny’s head.

“What’s wrong?” Diana asked.

“Okay.” He ran his hands through his brown hair, making it spike up. “Hypothetically—“ he cut himself off as Batman glared at him. “Okay, totally real, but uh, Flash, let’s just say that I’m faster than you right now. A lot faster.”

“How much?” Flash took a step forward, obviously curious.

“From what we can tell, I’ve topped out at Mach nine.” He responded with a dry laugh, “But your speed was still a lot faster than mine. You’d never tell me what it was. I’m still growing though, and I’m getting faster. I’m able to beat my precious time by almost double each time we test. But my situation was complicated, and things were happening, and it was a mess.”

“Like what?” Superman asked.

“World war three. I think?” He rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture that he had picked up from Green Lantern, “Things got complicated. That’s why I was going to wait for…” his eyebrows scrunched together as the last piece of the puzzle clicked into place. “It was you!” He turned to Flash. “You!” He jabbed a finger at the speedster. “You set this up! You set ME up!”

The heroes took fighting stances, but Superman took a step forward, blocking them from Danny. “What are you talking about?”

“Okay okay.” He was trying to calm down his anger, but he had been told by Green Lantern in the past that he had inherited the man’s anger issues. “Let me start at the beginning. This is going to be a long story, you might want to take a seat.”

Nobody moved, but everyone was tense.

��Or not. Okay. So my creation starts with Lex Luthor.” He noticed Superman stiffen. “He used me as his trial, if you will. Once he got a successful attempt at cloning—me—he moved onto his real target. Cloning Superman.” Danny’s green eyes hovered onto Superman’s blue ones. “He was successful.”

“What happened?” Superman’s voice was unnaturally quiet.

“Well, at first, Conner wasn’t showing that he had all the powers of Superman. So Lex tossed him aside and tried again. The second attempt was more successful than the first. But cloning Kryptonian dna was hard, I guess.” He shrugged. “The second clone lacked basic emotions. Empathy, remorse… it made him the perfect little weapon for Lex. But eventually, the clone’s anger and Lex’s greed got to a point of no return. Lex was elected President of the United States and uh…you can probably see where this is going, right? While the fighting hadn’t like…’officially’ started,” He used his fingers to create air quotes around the word ‘officially’, “Things were getting tense. See, we couldn’t take the clone down because Lex had wrote out the Kryptonite deficiency out of his weakness. And the clone had all the strength of Superman and none of his remorse…”

Superman looked pale. “I see.”

“So Flash and I came up with a plan.” He turned back to his father, “We were going to travel into the next dimension for help. From what we could tell, that dimension was full of god-like beings, and one of them actually helped me out earlier! But for a lot of them, they ask for a price for their help. But anyway, Flash and I were going to take our case to the King and plead for help. I was waiting for Flash when the timeline reset and I found out that not only did I not exist, but I was nine years too early.”

“What are you going to do now?” Green Lantern asked.

“Dunno,” His voice dropped as the reality hit him. He wasn’t going home—his home didn’t exist anymore.

[pardonmybunion]

So this @laurenillustrated artwork and all the vintage-dream-casting at @hotvintagepoll got me thinking: if Scooby Doo were a thing in the 1890s, then a few years later it would be a NATURAL for silent Hollywood. So who do we cast in Hal Roach’s hit 1915-1919 series of Scooby Doo live-action comedy shorts?

Shaggy and Scoob are both easy, because look, here’s Charley Bowers! He always plays chaotic pottering-around-with-machinery types, which is exactly the vibe that 1890s Shaggy gives, and he does so with a surrealist slapstick edge that’s perfect for the material. On top of that, Bowers is a pioneering stop-motion special effects artist—so he can also be our lead animator, and the rapport between live-action Shaggy and his animated Scooby will be delightful.

Like Shaggy, Velma has to have a certain slapstick quality (“Where are my glasses? I can’t see without my glasses”), so it’s lucky we have Alice Howell—nicknamed “the female Charlie Chaplin” by the tiresome people who use that type of comparison. The point is, she can give Velma the bookish self-possession suggested in the 1890s look, AND also run through a gajillion doors in a wacky hallway chase culminating in a spectacular pratfall.

(Mabel Normand is another contender, but her acting style seems a couple notches too naturalistic for Scooby Doo. I definitely see her directing a bunch of the shorts though.)

Fred needs to be both a conventionally hot manly-hero type and a bit of an idiot, so hello Reginald Denny! This British actor emigrated to Hollywood in the early 1910s, became a comedy star, and played himbos so well that he was still playing them into the 1960s. He’s even in the Adam West Batman movie as the naval hero Commodore Schmidlapp, who’s so ditzy he doesn’t realize he’s been kidnapped by the Penguin.

Daphne is a fun one—let’s assume that by this point, Pearl White is tired of all those straight-up action serials like The Perils of Pauline, and wants to do a spoof for a change. With silent comedy shorts there’s always a chance the plot will wander away and leave the individual gags running the store, and White brings enough tension and gravitas to prevent that situation and keep things moving. At the same time, since she favors action roles, she can easily match the dynamism of Bowers, Howell, and Denny.

And that’s to say nothing of all the silent actors who could appear in bit parts on their way to fame. Maybe the gang tears the mask off the ghost, and discovers it’s an early-career Buster Keaton?

[bet-on-me-13]

Ellie isn't allowed to travel alone Anymore

So! Ellie was raised in a Lab by a Genuine Bonefied Supervillain. She was raised to be a Villain as well, so her Moral Conpass is a little skewed.

Sure she *mostly* knows what is right and wrong from Danny's quick lesson before her Adventure around the Country, but she still has trouble separating what is moral and what is not from time to time.

So it's really no surprise that the moment she left Amity Park she somehow ended up being branded a Villain.

Look, it's not her fault she didn't know not to attack the flying guy in Blue Spandex when he approached her! One of Danny's biggest warnings shen she left had been Stranger Danger! She did what any 12 year old girl would have done when approached by a strange Older Man!

Its also not her fault that her powers (being Magic based), managed to affect him! She didn't even use her full power! (She maybe should have kicked him in a different place tho...she hopes he wasn't planning on having kids...)

So she did what her instincts told her to do. She took any money he had on him and ran the hell away!

It wasn't until she was 2 cities over when she saw a newspaper titled, "Little Villain Girl Mugs Superman in Broad Daylight!", that she realized she may have screwed up...

After that, she really had no excuse.

She knew that she probably shouldn't have kept Mugging the Heroes who approached her, but she wasn't a Fenton for nothing! Her Family Motto had always been "Commit to the Bit", and she was gonna stick to it!

So when the Fast Red Guy tried to tie her up, she phased off all his clothes and took off with his money (not the mask, she knew enough not to take that off)

And when the Grumpy Bat Guy tried to corner her with some weird papers he pulled out of his Belt, she just distracted him while her clone picked his pockets and made off with the wheels of his Car. That one made her a pretty penny!

The flying Green Guy was fun, his attacks were just throwing Ghost Candy (pure willpower) at her. He did stop doing do after she nicked his fancy talking Ring however, but it was fun while it lasted

Then she came across a Orange Fish Guy, and he actually seemed nice enough. But she was committing to the Bit, so she took the fancy Trident he had and sold it at a nearby Pawn Shop for some extra cash. He would probably be able to find it, that's why she chose a nearby location.

All in All, her Adventure had been really fun! So she decided to visit Amity Park again to tell Danny all about it!

...

Aquaman walked into the meeting room of the Watchtower, a very frustrated look in his eye.

Barry spoke up first, "Oh! I know that look in your eye! She got to you too didn't she!"

Arthur just glared at Barry for a second before walking over to his Chair, sitting down with a thump. "She is certainly a tricky child."

"What did she take this time?" Clark asked.

"..mttrident..." Arthur grumbled out quickly.

"What was that?" Asked Barry with a twinkle in his eye. He heard it, but he wanted everybody else to know.

"She took my trident, Okay!" Arthur shouted out.

"I feel ya man." Responded Hal, "At least with me she threw it back at me when she realized it wasn't making 'candy' anymore. What did she do with yours?"

"She sold it at a Pawn Shop!" Arthus yelled in frustration, "She managed to steal one of the most Powerful Magical Weapons in the world, the Symbol of the entire Atalantean Royal Bloodline, and she sold it and a Pawn Shop!"

"...how much did she get for it?" Asked Hal.

At this, Aquaman just collapsed to the table and groaned.

...

Alternatively she could have just kept all those things, and gradually built up a collection of all the JLA's most treasured possessions.

She has Supermans Wallet, not very important to him but it was her first mugging

She has Batmans Utility Belt (trackers removed) along with his Tires

She took Flashes Costume Ring (his civilian clothes still stuck inside)

She took Green Lanterns ring as well, but unfortunately it managed to escape after a few days. It was feisty.

And her crowning Jewel is the Trident she took from Aquaman.

(She avoided WW, cause she likes her too much to steal anything from her)

[chaoticallyfluffy]

I want more of the JL acting like normal celebrities.

Batman and Chappel Roan working together on a competitive cooking show against teams of Kylie Jenner and Danny Devito, Kanye West and Kesha, Taylor Swift and Superman, etc. They are a surprisingly good team who work together great. They end up winning the whole thing and a bunch of wholesome memes start trending about the two of them adopting you after your awful parents kicked you out. Superman and Taylor Swift are surprisingly a TERRIBLE team. They’re disqualified because they never finished cooking their meals as they were too busy arguing. They are memed to be the parents who kicked you out and desperately need a divorce.

Wonder Woman going on a survivor-like reality show about a bunch of celebrities stuck on an island together and all the contestants are whining about things like “My hair is so frizzy and Chad is SO hot, I don’t want him to see me like this omg” While Diana has already chopped down multiple trees, used the wood to make a cabin for everyone, hunted a wild boar which is currently roasting over a campfire she also made with the leftover sticks and leaves, and cracked the coconuts from the tree. The rest of the show is mostly a normal reality show. The other contestants never have to lift a finger and can peacefully gossip and have drama while being well fed, housed, and hydrated. The only real difference is that every few minute the camera switches to Diana wresting a grizzly bear or catching fish with her bare hands.

The masked singer where there’s a person in a colourful parrot costume singing on stage and everyone has to guess who it is. People have guessed many celebrities like Oliver Queen, Bruce Wayne, or even Lex Luther, but they mostly guessed famous singers because the guy is GOOD and there’s no way he doesn’t sing professionally. He sang songs like “Party in the USA”, “Call Me Maybe” and “Never Gonna Give You Up”. People were going crazy trying to figure out who he is. The time finally comes for the reveal. The man slowly takes off his parrot head and... it’s Batman. The crowd goes wild.

The Flash (Barry) and Green Lantern (Hal) make a podcast and spend the entire time going on long rants about their respective interests. Flash talks about forensic science and chemistry for an hour while GL hums in interest or asks questions every once in a while. After that GL rambles about airplanes and engineering for another hour while Flash enthusiastically nods and adds in related stories every so often. Twitter diagnoses them with autism.

Captain Marvel has a TikTok account where he posts himself trying suggestions from his fans. Some of his most popular videos include him juggling a bunch of chainsaws (perfectly, btw), pranking JL members, bedazzling Mr Minds prison jar with fake crystals and speech bubble stickers that make it look like Mr Mind is saying things like “I’m DUMB”, and his most popular by far, citing The Santa Clause rules to Black Adam and convincing him that since he killed his father technically that makes him his new dad (the horror stopped Black Adam in place mid battle, giving Marvel the perfect opportunity to punch him in the face. The punch has been slo-mo’d and memed to oblivion). His Batman mandated PR team has been begging him to stop for months but in response he posts himself TikTok dancing (terribly) in front of a green screen in the background showing an image of the emails while asking for more suggestions.

If anyone has any ideas like this or fics to recommend plz tell me In the comments, I love the Justice League just casually being celebrities.

[autisticmudkip]

While you are here, please take some time to support my friend Iyad @eyadnasir-6. He and his family lost their home to bombing. They fled to a hospital, only for it to be bombed as well. Iyad and his family, which includes several young nieces and nephews, have been living in fear ever since.

There has been often been bombing close around the tent where they live. The bombing not only causes great terror and stress, but the smoke and phosphorus from it has given Iyad serious respiratory issues, which worsen each day without treatment.

Iyad needs your help to be able to purchase basic needs like food and water for his family, and medical treatment for respiratory issues. The prices in Gaza are extremely high, and without your support, he and his family will suffer and starve. Please, share and donate to his campaign. Any amount, no matter how small, can make a difference to Iyad and his family. Please don't let them down.

(If you want to see any of the stuff listed in the poll, donate and either dm me or reblog with proof, and I will post a picture of whatever you want to see, and maybe a little story to go with it too.)

Vetted here by @/nabulsi

#24 on the @/gazavetters spreadsheet

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