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vastimagines · 5 months

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I just saw the sugarduo Trust fic you did! If you’re still doing fic requests, maybe another sugarduo fluff fic based on when Phil was kidnapped by the feds? It’s fine if you can’t, and if you do take all the time you need!

Hi anon i'm so sorry it took this long! I got distracted and I wasn't sure what to write for you! I come bearing a quick piece, not necessarily fluff, but it is comfort! I hope you like it!

He’d never struggled to know what was real or not before, not like this. There were times when he’d been tired after waking up from an intense dream or struggled to maintain his awareness when he’d been exhausted, but nothing like this; nothing that made him feel like he was going insane.

He wasn’t home very often these days. They’d long since exhausted every available resource to find the kids to no avail, and being home was a constant reminder of his failure to protect them. Even if they had left of their own accord, that worried him just as much. What could have possibly scared them so much that they would have left their homes where they were safest?

Between worrying for them and noticing every out of place detail that kept showing up, he was tired. A week long coma and he was still tired, but he didn’t sleep as often as he did. Wandering anywhere else kept his mind off of everything, and if he was walking at night and found mobs running at him, the fight would keep his mind busy for a few moments until he found whatever he was aimlessly looking for.

He ended up on the beach, on Forever’s beach. He should’ve expected the man himself to show up sooner or later. He heard Forever’s voice before he even realized he wasn’t alone. He looked up at him, standing beside him. He’s said something, he was sure of that, but he hadn’t quite caught it.

“What’d you say?”

“I asked if you are okay.” The sun made Forever’s hair glow like itself was made of the sun’s rays.

Did he lie? Would he even be capable of coming up with a sufficient cover story right then? “I don’t know.”

Forever sat down next to him. Phil pushed his feet into the sand, the warmth soothing his nerves and distracting him. It couldn’t distract from the bird, though. They were sitting in a desert biome. There shouldn’t have been a hummingbird there.

Did Forever see it? Was it real?

“What’s wrong?”

“Can you see that bird?”

“The hummingbird?”

Phil slowly let go of his breath. He slowly let go of the tensions in his body. He felt shaky and wasn’t quite sure if he was actually shaking or not.

The bird was real. This was bird was real.

“Phil, what’s wrong?”

A warm breeze blew past them. He liked this beach. It didn’t reek of salt like ocean beaches did. The waves were smaller and the air was cool off the waves, sparkling in the sunset.

“I meant to visit you. When you were unconscious, I said I was going to visit you every day.” He leaned forward over his knees, wrapping his arms around his legs. “I found a message in my house. I thought it was from Tallulah. Gave me coordinates to go to.”

“What?” Phil wished he wouldn’t get excited. “When? What happened?”

He hated this. He hating feeling so weak and small and not knowing anything. He hated not knowing things. “There was nothing there. Just a birdhouse, and cucurucho showed and locked me inside. It felt like I was in there for weeks.”

“Phil-”

“And then I woke up.” He buried his head in his arms. “I woke up in my house and there was no note, no chest, no flowers. And later, there’s a message in Tallulah’s garden covered in ivy, and the minute I bring Fit and Pac to see it- Gone.”

Forever didn’t respond. He didn’t say anything. Phil just felt his eyes on him. He felt like he was always being watched nowadays. Someone had to be behind this all, pulling the strings to make him lose his mind.

“I didn’t imagine that one, I swear. It was there.” He clenched his fist around his pants. “I had it in my hands and it just vanished.”

He looked away, anywhere other than Forever. He probably thought he was crazy, like Pac had thought he’d been crazy.

“I believe you.”

He looked up and Forever’s gaze was gentle, like he understood the bullshit he was talking about.

“Forever, I don’t know if it was even real, if any of it was real. What if this isn’t real?”

“I am real.”

He broke their gaze, looking back at his knees. “I feel like I’m going crazy. I feel like I’m losing grasp on just, everything. I went back to that place, and the birdhouse was gone. There was nothing.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“And if there’s nothing to figure out? If I’m just crazy?”

Forever put a hand on his cheek, pulling him to look at him. He looked tired. He’d been through so much and now Phil was dumping this on him. “We will get through it.” He held his face in his hand and it warm and comforting in a way he hadn’t felt in months, in a way he desperately needed. Forever looked at him like he was going to solve every problem in both of their lives.

“This is real. I promise you. We can’t both be hallucinating,” he joked, but it did little to raise his spirits. “You were there for me. Let me help you, Philza.”

Phil held Forever’s hand in his, holding it to his cheek, his rough skin under his and his warmth on his skin.

“Do you believe me?”

“I believe you.”

Phil closed his eyes and leaned into Forever’s hand. He trusted him. Maybe he didn’t even trust his own senses, but he trusted Forever, and if he couldn’t trust Forveer, well then he was seriously screwed.

#sugarduo #philever #flash writing #ask #fanfic

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lyralit · 2 years

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ꜰʟᴀꜱʜ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ - ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɪᴍᴘᴀᴄᴛ:

make it happen during a moment of victory

make their death a sacrifice

choose a reader favourite character

have the other characters not know what to do

have a pet go looking for them

leave a relationship hanging

leave a goal unfinished

#flash writing #writerblr #lyralit #creative writing #writers #writblr #writing #writers block #writing ideas #readerblr #writing prompts #writing reference #reference #writing resources

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doublegoblin · 1 year

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Homesick

They were set to move away soon. Another life in another place. Somewhere they wouldn’t be remembered for their past but their future.

Bittersweet.

They were the last to go, everyone else had the sense to get out while they could. It was fine though, less people and things to mourn. So they set up the trailer, loaded it with boxes, and sent them on their way. Something tugged at their heart. Something they had almost forgotten.

So they went home.

Long abandoned, once by people now almost by memory.

Disheveled, disordered, distant.

Home.

Leaning on their car door they looked upon this weathered shell. Had it really been this long? Mom and Dad were just sitting at the table, a holiday feast just as warm as the company milling about. Mom had just handed Dad the phone on a humid summer night, he talked their ear off with the same story from the factory. Recalling every detail with perfect clarity. They could still hear their mother comforting him, once he forgot where he was. The service was nice. Even if the dreary fall weather may have been on the cosmic nose.

Closing their door they walked up to the home. Mom wasn’t long after Dad. They could still feel her fingers wrapping around theirs, clinging desperately, before gently falling to the hospital sheets. She was buried next to Dad, of course.

A mournful wind brushed up their legs and knocked the shutters gently. Stair number two, a double-edged alarm for all late night stragglers. They paused once more. Eyes lingering on the porch swing. There was at first a compulsion, a need, to sit and rock one last time. But as their eyes traced up the rusted chain, a bowed support beam suggested otherwise.

They knew the door was free for all to come and go. Still. Under the horrendously gaudy ceramic frog, they pried the key from its crusted tomb. And, locked the door. Just to unlock it. The deadbolt barely making a noise, maybe it had fallen away? The ritual had been completed however, so they were, at least internally, allowed entry.

The entry way seemed so much smaller. While looking up the rotted stairs their keys clattered to the floor. A moment of silence, then came the giggles. Brushing the porcelain shards aside, they retrieve their blunder and stuffed it away in their coat pocket. In the stillness, they could hear the grandfather clock ticking away. A trick of the mind; that went with the estate sale. Likewise they could hear their mothers voice twofold.

“Take off your shoes honey, it’s rude not to.” and “Oh dear, please keep them on, heaven knows what sorts of things are hiding here.”

With nobody around to scold them, the shoes stayed on as they drifted slowly in this memory.

Bracing against a bitter wind they rounded the corner to their left.

Gentle popping of cathode tubes. Warm buzzing of the brand new fluorescent lights. A dimly blue hue cast along the room during the night. They traced their hand across the wall, the floral pattern wallpaper peeling and molded. Stopping at the worn away patches of shag carpeting, where the couch used to set. To them, at such a tender young age, that couch held a magic. Falling asleep to some colorful show, only to awaken tucked in their bed. Now older and much wiser, at least so they hoped; the real magic was that old man, joints screaming and back aching, who’d scoop their slumbering body up and whisk them away to a better resting spot. That old man, who’d they’d find slumped over and drooling on the cushions. Dead to the world, save for the moment that dial was touched.

“Hey hey, I was watchin’ that. Just…just resting my eyes!” He’d groan sitting up.

They wandered over to the corner. Something caught their eye. There was no way, but yet, they bent over, and pulled a still green pine needle from a carpet tangle.

Peering out the large window that flanked where the couch had rested. Almost hidden from view, the old street light stood. Clutching the needle gently they smiled softly. Setting on the windowsill their mind drifted once more. It was a horrible blizzard that year. They had lost power pretty early in the day. As evening came they all huddled on the couch. Mom and Dad told them and their sister stories, just something to pass the time. Even as the wind howled, the frost stretched across the glass, and the temperature fell. It all didn’t matter, just as long as Mom and Dad were there. Then just as the last candle flickered away, leaving only pitch empty darkness, an orange glow flickered and filled the room. The family beheld the street light, and the gently falling snow that danced in its amber glow. The parents sighed in relief, the siblings bickered about whose turn it was picking the movie.

Barren hallway walls held them close as they crossed still standing floor beams into the kitchen. Closing their eyes they could still smell Moms tuna fish casserole. They wretched. Then chuckled. Nobody had purchased the old oak table, nor its two friends. The seats sport a new green cushion. Running a hand along the smooth tabletop they paused at an almost vanished stain. A sting in their heart. They had watched from around the corner, parents having thought the kids already to bed. There were hushed words, sniffled feelings, and hesitant touches.

“But how do we tell-” Mom started before Dad eased her worries.

“We’ll figure it out, it will…it’ll…it’ll be fine.”

Thankfully, they caught it early enough. Shame they missed a little.

Dazed, they rubbed the palm of one hand with the thumb of the other. This memory was meant to stay locked away. Shaking their head they took a quivering breath and exhaled. Their focus now on the slapping of a worn screen door. Where a stabbing pain had taken root, now butterflies filled them. Head warm and face flushed they stood under the overhead porch light; what was left of it that is.

It was such a quick moment. But boy, did it leave a mark. It was a humid and horribly hot night. The sun had just started to set when he walked them home. Loose dust kicked up from their feet as their voices carried along the breeze. They can’t exactly recall what prompted these friends to become vacation lovers. It was there though, in the dim yellow glow, with moths fluttering about and mosquitoes biting he took their hands. His skin was so rough, but, soft. Their hands were cold and clammy. He stood just a step down, their eyes level. Deep caramel gems. His lips were soft and warm on theirs. Daggers of cold stung their cheeks, bringing them back to the present. Their heart raced. It was tragic, he was their one but they were one of many. Besides, their partner was a better kisser anyway.

So that was it then. The stairs would only crumble away and posed more danger than not embracing their held secrets. Yet they lingered in the front doorway. Stuck now between two worlds. Would they truly be satisfied not seeing their old room? They took a hesitant step forward. A support beam cracked loose from the ceiling and tore through the rotted steps and warped railing. Better an answer than any.

As they drove away. They watched the house heave a final breath. It had waited for them to come back for so long, and now, it could know peace. The walls came crumbling down, the roof sunk into itself, and when the dust settled all that remained were twisted timbers and broken foundation.

And the warm smiling faces of their parents waving goodbye.

#writing #writeblr #original writing #creative writing #original fiction #flash writing #not really horror #nostalgia #I think I was possessed by melancholy #not my usual style

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twigscloset · 2 years

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September

On the days when my body is heavy and tears drop silently. When the fear of a child who’s looking for her mother makes me paralyzed inside and out. The need to tear at my skin and hair in an attempt to claw out my skull. To bring me the sense of fading pain my mind plays a short film featuring the warmth of a lustful appetite, the butterflies of two in love and the loud laughs of friends gathered.

#female writers #writerscommunity #read and review #writers on tumblr #aspiring writer #write every day #dreamer #artists on tumblr #emo #poetry #flash writing #depression #living with bpd

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st4r-k1d · 1 year

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──✰Envy✰──

Anger bubbled in my stomach like a witches cauldron, the green kind, the one that demanded to be set off and shatter. The green-eyed monster snaked up my spine and sat at the end of my tongue, waiting for the poison to bring others to sorrow. It plagued through my mind and clouded my thoughts; my judgment.

Her fingers danced across the pearly keys as her voice sung a melody. Is it not fair that she was destined for the talent that I had desperately wished to surpass her at? The pen that balanced in his fingers created worlds, surpassing anyone's imagination. Could I not do the same or yet, better than he could wish to accomplish? Eyes were entranced by their figure, weaving stories upon stories with nothing but their feet and tongue. Longing and bitter resentment plagued my body and curled in the pits of my stomach.

But would it be honorable of me to convey these cruel thoughts? Would it plague them as it did to me? No, I was incompatible with them. If those were the talents that were woven into their souls, then it is not my place to conjecture them.

This snake of green will not abandon me until it takes me as its true captive, to conquer and plague like no other. It is an incurable sickness that I must learn to survive with. It will not stop until it is I and I is it. And I will let it, for I have not learned any other way of living.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

☆ I have decided that I'll also post small drabbles I make if I think it's internet worthy 😸

☆ I actually made this for Creative Writing and my mom asked me if I plagiarized it 😃

#poetry #poem #st4r-k1d writes☆#flash writing

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ontowanderlust · 2 years

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Sometimes, I wonder.

What makes up grief? How do you know when you’re grieving?

Is it… the feeling of a cloud of sadness looming above your head? And that, you’re overcame with this sense of anticipation that any moment now the inevitable rain will befall upon you?

Is it… the feeling of overwhelming sensations thrusted upon you from left to right, front to back, up to down that you could never pinpoint which is which and what is what? Always leaving questions in its wake with no answers offered?

Is it… the feeling of an aftermath of a tragedy that left nothing but stillness? The sense of hollowness engraved upon your soul that even if you try to fill it up, you would still gain nothing?

Is it… is it… is it…?

What makes up grief, I wonder.

#flash writing #flash poetry #i think?#i just need to write it down #cause chances are #i will forget this come morning

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strangelittlestories · 4 months

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After the occupation, the princess was confined to the palace.

Once a month she'd be taken on a walk around the city, heavily guarded of course, to show the people that she still lived. It also served, of course, as a reminder of what they stood to lose if they made trouble. The princess did her best go wave and smile and give the people what encouragement she could.

The rest of the time, her life was spent in musty rooms and dusty towers. She filled most of her time scouring the castle for materials which she would sew into more and more elaborate outfits, which she would show off on the days when she was allowed outside.

Indeed, the public loved their princess and her dresses so much they'd often sketch or paint them along the route and pass the images on so that all could see the princess at least was well.

This pleased the occupiers for two reasons. First: it kept the princess out of trouble. Second: it gave them a reason to sneer and they did love a good sneer.

"What a vain creature she is!" They would remark.

"Doesn't even care we murdered her brothers so long as she gets enough satin to make her little dresses!" They squawked.

This was unfair, of course, for to call her creations "little dresses" was to call Queen Murderfun the Needlessly Genocidal "a tad piquey". Her dresses were gravity-defying wonders lace and pearl. They were thunderstorms captured in velvet and waterfalls summoned in silk. She was a wizard with silk.

Still, she bore their mockery with a tight smile and careful deference.

"Please, good sirs, my home, my people and my city now belong to you. Let me keep, at least, this one last joy."

And they sneered and they crowed most unpleasantly, but they let her keep her sewing room.

Of course, they would have known their mockery to be doubly unfair had they realised the true purpose of the princess's elaborate designs. For hidden in the intricate embroiderings across her gowns, jackets and fans, the princess had encoded secret (and very detailed) messages. When she would go on her monthly walk, the city's loyalists would line the route, sketching down the patterns to decode later.

Thus did the princess transmit all the occupiers' secrets (unearthed while supposedly 'searching the castle for old fabrics') to the city and thus did she build her resistance.

On the day the revolution finally came, she girded herself in armour of thick spider silk and whale bone. She cut a fine figure with a lacy handkerchief in her top pocket and a razor sharp knitting needle keeping her hair up.

As she waltzed through the castle to open the door for her army, the Usurper King tried to stop her and she simply unfolded her handkerchief and showed it to him.

Upon seeing the impossible arcane pattern emblazoned across it, he fell to the floor with blood streaming from his eyes.

She always had been a wizard with silk.

---

Thank you for reading. If you'd like to support my writing, you can do so at https://ko-fi.com/strangelittlestories

#writing #microfiction #short story #flash fiction #wrote this a few years back and finally got round to posting here

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movedtodykedvonte · 10 months

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*Spidey and the Sinister Six having their usual fight*

Doc Ock, landing a hit: You’re getting slow Spider-Man! Age finally catching up to you?

Spider-Man: You wish! I haven’t even hit my 30s! From those costumes I can already tell I failed to save you guys from those midlife crises! Sorry by the way.

Vulture: Watch it wallcr- wait… Did you just say your not in your thirties yet?

Spider-Man: Surprised that this spiders so young and spry? Well-

Electro: Dude I’ve been fighting you for at least 5 fucking years! How old even are you?

Shocker, joking cause he’s the only one who picked up no grown adult acts likes Spidey: Don’t swear in-front of the boy you don’t want him to pick it up.

Rhino: Christ! You’re tellin me I almost crushed some 12-year-olds skull all those years ago?

Spider-Man, regretting his quipping: I was not that young! Like just starting freshman year but-

Sandman, horrified as he’s the only one with a kid and dad instincts(as of my iteration): I could’ve killed a kid…

Shocker, genuinely curious: Are you even old enough to drink? Cruel to kill a man who ain’t had his first drink yet.

Electro: Please tell us you’re at least over 25 as of this fight. Hell, I’ll take over 21!

Spider-Man:….

Sandman, realizing just how young he really is: Oh my god.

Spider-Man: My birthday’s coming up soon so I guess it counts?

Doc Ock, exacerbated: It. Does. Not!

Vulture: What would your mother think if she knew her son was out here risking his life telling poorly constructed jokes?

Spider-Man, offended cause it quips slap: 1. My jokes are great 2. She and my dad are dead so-

Sandman, hysterical cause holy shit he almost killed a kid orphan: OH MY GOD!

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deadsetobsessions · 3 months

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Danny laid across his throne, legs planted across the left arm of the ornate chair and back pressed uncomfortably against the right.

"Listen," Danny started, letting his head flop to the side as he glared at a hovering Observant. "This meeting has wasted enough of my time. You all have been arguing for hours and that's without Clockwork slowing things down."

"Your Majesty, this is a matter of great importance. Belial means to overthrow and rule my-our world!"

"I am distinctly aware aware of that," Ancients, Danny couldn't wait to go home and rid himself of the formal speech he'd had to adopt in order to be taken seriously. Well, as seriously as he cared to be taken when sprawled across his throne instead of sitting on it intimidatingly or something. He slowly placed his gaze on the suddenly still demon sitting across from him. "Yet you've proposed fifteen different plans that were all unviable for whatever reasons you've cooked up. Your conclusion is that I must step in. Does your world not have heroes to take care of it?"

The demon- another lord of hell from this Belial’s universe- fell silent.

“Ah. But if they do, they would also take care of you.”

“No- no, that’s not-”

Danny allowed his voice to drop to the artic freeze he knew his core was capable of. "I opened these these doors to allow all of you to present me with reasonable concerns regarding your own universes and realms. What is not on the table for discussion is your petty politics. Do you think I am unaware of your intentions in tattling to me? That I do not know you are trying to use me to further your own position?"

"Your Majesty, I-" The demon growled out, fear slowly coating its expression.

"It no longer amuses me. You think that I am young and easy to manipulate." Danny froze the demon to its chair. It tried to break free, but Danny isn't the High King of the Infinite Realms for nothing. "Bring to me a miserable problem like this ever again, one that could be easily solved if you used even a smidgen of your intelligence, and you will find exactly how I tore Pariah Dark from his throne."

Not that Danny knew how he did it either, he just did it.

"Yes, Your Majesty. My-my apologies."

The room is dead (Danny patted himself on the back for the pun) silent. Some of the Ancients looked bored, like Clockwork who knew Danny would never hurt them, but everyone else looked close to crying. He held eye contact with the demon until it looked away.

When Danny settled back into the throne and allowed his ice to dissipate, the room let out a collective sigh of relief.

"The next item on the agenda is another demon, by the name of Trigon." Clockwork announced, the large piece of paper comically huge next to his currently toddler-like body.

"Another?"

He flicked an amused look at the previous demon, who kept his trap firmly shut.

"He is attempting to take over multiple worlds in an attempt to conquer the universe. I had thought you would be interested in this one, Your Majesty, as he plans to begin with Earth 135."

Danny stilled. That was his Earth. His haunt.

"Does he know of the Realms?"

"Vaguely, I believe."

"Then he should know the rules. I will wait to see if my Earth's heroes are capable to step to the task."

Danny would be a hypocrite if he doesn’t let the heroes of his Earth try first, even if he is one of those heroes.

"Of course," Clockwork grinned at him, fully aware of the shit Danny's about to stir back home. Ah, the wonders of being able to influence the time stream. Perhaps the young Ghost King will finally get some friends, and maybe get those pesky speedsters to stop making his jobs so hard. Cujo yipped at Danny as the King begrudgingly moved onto the next topic.

——

Raven shuddered as she watched the footage of her "brothers" laughing while steering their human "meatbags" around. She turned back to the giant circle of donated blood and herb filled candles.

“This is a nuclear option, don’t you think?” Green Arrow mumbled, clearly not against it by the half hearted way he’d said it. The Star City billionaire nursed his cracked ribs.

“No,” she floated over to where Zatanna and Constantine kneeled, trying to see if they needed help with the inscriptions. “Trigon is coming soon, and my brothers will no doubt find their way here in a moment. We are out of time.”

“Yeah. Plus, we don’t want Raven to be turned into a portal.” Garfield piped up, switching animal forms rapidly.

“No one dies.” Red Robin muttered. His wrist computer was open, monitoring the surroundings of the open field they found themselves uneasily occupying. Batman grunted in affirmation, eyeing the tree line. Every hero except the magical ones were on look out, preparing themselves for one more battle against the two demons that were trying to take Raven and force her into becoming a portal.

“Hey guys, we might want to hurrythisupbecausethey’re kind of close!” Impulse slammed into the room.

“Done.” Zatanna got up, motioning for everyone to step back. In Superman’s case, he floated back.

“Too bad you won’t get to use it,” a voice drawled, dripping with malice and the screams of a thousand souls.

“Come now, little sister. Why fight fate? Be grateful father has deigned to spare you. If not for your dirty blood being useful, you would be dead, little sister. Give up, before our patience runs out alongside the lives of your little pets.” Another, mocking, voice gleefully rumbled.

Raven would rather gouge out her own heart than to claim these two as any type of family.

“You won’t touch them.” Raven snarled, powers rising even as the marks on her body burned a painful red.

“Buy us some time!”

With that, the group of beaten and battered heroes rose to clash against just two demons, for a chance to save their world.

——

The Circle crackled. Danny felt a tug on his core. He followed the thread of the summoning. Oh. It was his haunt. Earth 135. Hm. It tasted of blood. Desperation? A hint of anticipation. Oh, an overload of fear. Could use some more hope, but Danny understood that it was rather hard to season these kinds of summonings with hope.

“Stop.” Danny commanded, straightening in his chair.

“Sire, we have more-”

“There is an issue with my haunt,” with that, he followed the summons.

——

“Ugh,” was the first thing everybody on the frozen battlefield heard. The demons had smacked away many of the heroes, but they all turned as one when the circle lit up a bright green. “Why do you people always use blood? I’m dead, I don’t need any more iron!”

A boy

Raven’s eldest brother let out a hideous rumble. “You fools tried to summon the king, and you got a dead boy. And now, you’ve doomed another.”

Constantine looked resigned, and regretful. “I am so, so sorry,” he whispered. It was just a kid. John might be a lot of things, but even he found summoning dead kids for demons to devour was just a step too far. “Shite, we got the wrong fucking-”

“Hey, man, that’s rude,” the boy snapped back, waving John off.

“Brother, kill the whelp.”

“I vote on not killing the whelp. Not killing at all, really,” the boy stepped out of the massive blood circle, wrinkling his nose at the drying stains.

“This is not one of your pesky democracies, fool.”

In response, the demons lunged at him, ignoring the screams of the surrounding heroes as they shoved their human arms through the boy’s stomach.

“So,” the boy continues, “I heard your dad was after my haunt?”

“Your haunt, whelp? This earth shall be his! And through him, ours!” Raven slammed against the demons with her power, shadows enlarging and tossing them away from the unharmed… ghost boy?

“Is it?”

——

Wow, these demons are so rude. Normally, it’d be a breath of fresh air compared to the stuffy halls of his throne room. But since they’re attacking his haunt…

“Thanks. You’re… Raven, right?”

Raven nodded, arms outstretched in concentration as she held her brothers back.

“You have to go. We’re- we’re sorry you got pulled into this, but it’s not safe here.”

“Eh. It’s cool. You don’t have to do that anymore, by the way.” Danny stepped forward once more, green skin shifting and gliding as everything about him sharpened. He flew at the demons piloting the human shells, catching them around the necks and dragging the demons out of their stolen bodies. The threw them even further away as he floated in the air, a beacon of green and white. Raven thought it looked like hope.

“My name is Phantom, the High King of the Infinite Realms,” let it be known that Danny always had an eye for dramatic entrances. He shifted into something more off, more eldritch, more kingly. The crown flared to life above his head. “You have invaded my haunt. You have challenged me. What do you plead?”

“You’re not-” they said.

“Wrong answer,” Danny flew at them once more, body contorting into something undeniably terrorizing, his maw unhinging and crunching down on the demons with a sound that made the present heroes cringe.

“Ugh,” Danny grunted, turning back and floating peacefully to the group of heroes- Tucker and Sam would be so stoked he met Wonder Woman and Batman!- and chewed rapidly. He shifted back into his normal form. “Eating demons always leaves me with indigestion. And their bones get everywhere up in my teeth!” Danny pulled out a giant femur looking bone from his mouth, despite it not logically fitting in there.

“Right. No eating demons, solid life advice.” Red Robin said.

“Right? So, you’re Raven! It’s nice to meet you! Think you can summon your dear ol’ dad for me?”

“But we summoned you to stop Trigon, not help him come here.” Superman said, frowning.

“One! That summoning circle is wack. Those things you piled up as offerings? Mid. Also, if you thought you could control me with those terribly written spells, you’re dead wrong. And yes, I am making puns about death.” Danny jabs an aggressive finger towards the shabby circle.

“Have you considered that maybe not every being that can be summoned wants a shit ton of useless blood? Like what if I wanted food? And two, how am I supposed to beat up Trigon if he’s still stuck in the prison realm?”

“I have a cup of coffee,” Nightwing offered. “Kid Flash could probably get you food, right?”

“Yep, surethinganythingyouwantyourMajesty.”

“You wouldn’t catch me alive accepting food from a speedster. You people fuck up the timelines so much,” Danny grumbled, crunching on the last of Raven’s brothers. Raven thought she should probably sit down.

“But you’re dead.” Batman said, something about his voice catching the sharp attention of his protégés who all started making cutting motions at him.

“Fair,” Danny pointed at him, grinning. “I’ll take two pizza and Nightwing’s coffee as payment for taking care of your little demon overlord problem. Raven, summon your dad.”

——

Didn’t much like the characterization of this piece but it’s been in my drafts for a while and I needed it out

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sittinwithyou · 1 year

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Mr. Nix II: Terribly Sorry #quordleprompt 27

On my Wattpad!

He wasn't dumb. David knew that if it was quiet in the house – and Kevin was home – absolute silence was never a good sign. But as he was very comfortable on the couch with his throbbing leg propped up to alleviate the swelling, he resigned himself to allow future David the chance to clean up later. Besides, it had taken him all of fifteen minutes to achieve the perfect balance of pillows on the ottoman. He was very certain he'd never get the same tower stacked the same way again. Decisions made, he laid his head back against the couch and sighed with a slow, calming breath. "Peace, no matter what the cost, is at a premium in this house," he muttered.

His hand blindly slapped the cushions next to him. He found the remote and began flicking through the channels with the TV on mute. Various programs shuttered by until he settled on a peaceful-looking show about birds. The guide on the lower half of the screen read 'Avian Sunsets: An Introspective'. Different birds – both nocturnal and diurnal – spent equal time on the screen and gave the audience a glimpse into their everyday lives as their parts of the world turned to night. The premise of the show spoke to the peace-seeking side of David. His mouth quirked up into a small grin.

This is nice.

The tapping on the glass behind the couch woke him up with a start and the tower of pillows crumbled. His leg slammed into the floor at an awkward angle, and he grimaced. He glanced around. The light from the day had given way to the blue tint of night. The channel he had chosen moments ago was now showing some exposé about the lives of miniature schnauzers. A flash of orange light illuminated the room briefly then something tapped again on the glass. David sat up and twisted to see who was knocking on the window.

The silhouette of someone wearing a narrow-brimmed hat and a suit stuffed with shoulder pads stood out against the deepening blue night. The person's hand was still on the window and the hat slid back as the person's face was pressed against the glass. "Hello," its muffled voice called. "I'm afraid I need your help." From where the voice sounded, he guessed the man was slightly taller than the hedges outside.

David sat still, his mind trying to take in all the details of what was going on around him. Behind him, the TV continued flickering its muted colors of animal programming. One scene with a mostly white background came on and, in the glow, the features of the person leaning against his house were framed for three seconds. It was the face of a dehydrated-looking man. His nose was bulbous and wrinkly, and it spread like a ball of dough against the window as he leaned in. Under the thick nose was a smoothly combed moustache that looked as if it was painted on. It was hard to see the individual hairs with the way it was flattened against the glass. What David focused on however (and what stayed burning in his brain long after the white light gave way to a schnauzer-colored glow) was the way the man's eyes had reflected the light in a fiery orange. Memories of the embers of the last campfire he and Kevin...

Kevin.

"Kevin!" David turned on his leg and ignored the small lancing pains as the various briar wounds pulled at his skin. "Kevin, come down here."

"I'm afraid he's not needed right now," the man said through the glass.

David was sure he had heard that wrong. He darted into the foyer and wrenched open the front door hard enough to send it slamming into the wall. A fear that shrank his gut and pulled at his lungs ignited a rage he had never felt. He stalked into the bushes and snatched the man by the coat's lapel. The man didn't move. He jerked again, causing the figure to turn smoothly to face him. At least he thought he caused the man to move. It had felt much more voluntary than forced. "Where is my son," he yelled, his fist crumpling the velvety material of the man's coat.

The man was now facing him and with a grace and strength that was at odds to his height, he removed David's hand from his lapel. His eyes peered up from the brim of his hat. An orange glow bled from the whites, making the irises black and impossibly deep. "David, I presume." Clear of the glass, he could hear a rich, European accent. It was almost English, he thought.

David tried again to grab the man with curled fingers but the being in front of him faded. The shadow of the man's frame fell into dust that passed through David's fingers. A polite clearing of a throat came from behind and he whirled. Orange-lit eyes stared at him from three feet away. And the man seemed taller. The glowing circles were now shoulder height to David. "Who... no, what are you?"

The thing stared at him for a few moments before bowing slightly and holding out its hand to show a collection of envelopes. "I'm, uh, afraid I've started off on the wrong foot, David. Please, here's your post." It shook the proffered bills until David took them with hands that were starting to feel a bit numb. This was a dream, right? He was still asleep in the den while visions of animals danced in front of him.

Had to be.

"I didn't mean... well, I guess I did... I certainly made the mistake of mentioning your son. Oh, bevel's ashes, is he even your son? You could have been calling your husband. I didn't mean to assume... I'm sure you and your husband are very happy." The thing's body language had become less statuesque as it spoke. The doubt it had in its voice was seeping into its posture and as it stopped talking, it glanced up sheepishly. Its inner light flashed with a renewed flame. It cast an aura of flame-colored light between them. David saw the thing shrug. "I'm terribly sorry."

"Who are you?" David waved the mail between them in a vague threatening gesture. "I'm not going to ask again. I'll call the cops if you don't explain yourself. Right now."

"Right! Terribly rude of me, of course." The thing swept its hat off its head and bowed. "My name is Nix." It straightened and offered its hand to shake David's. David declined to grasp it. It rubbed the empty palm on its coat's side. "Mister Nix if you'd like. And you're the ninth house I've been to tonight to ask if I can keep my things under your home. And, well, believe it or not, this time spell is rather taxing to maintain and I don't excel at chromoetry. Could we – perhaps – take this conversation inside where I don't have to keep a magical bubble up?"

#FlashNovel #Flash Novel #Flash writing #Wattpad #Quordle #word prompt #Magic #mystery #terribly sorry

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lyralit · 2 years

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ꜰʟᴀꜱʜ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ - ᴘʟᴏᴛ ᴛᴡɪꜱᴛꜱ

the mc is the villain

an important character has been acting their personality

the hero sacrifices something important for revenge

the object they've been chasing is fake

the mentor works for the villain

a character's past catches up to them

the antagonist has the same goal as the protagonist

#flash writing #writerblr #creative writing #lyralit #writers #writblr #writing #writers block #writing ideas #writing prompts #writing reference

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regal-bones · 10 days

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A blade of swirling smoke and reddened eyes 💨🍃

This started as a joke but I think I committed to hard - happy 420 😎

you can support me on Patreon for £1 and help me keep making art!

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doublegoblin · 11 months

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Hank and Mikey: The Meeting

Happy Pride to everyone! I wanted to celebrate by writing a little gay fluff. I love these men just about as much as they love each other.

“Martha this has ta be, and I mean this with no exaggeration, the best gotdamn tuna casserola I’ve eva’ had. Pardon my French and all that.” Hank spoke through a napkin covered mouth.

Mikey jabs his husband in the ribs with his elbow; while maintaining a civil face.

“Gah! Cripes, I said I was sorry!” Hank rubs the wound.

Martha blushes and laughs gently “Well thank you Hank. It’s a family recipe, maybe my boy can teach it to you one day.”

“Oh Mah, you know I couldn’t do it justice. Besides Hank I don’t think has the patience for it.” He sips the coffee that had been gently steaming.

Ding Dong

Martha perks up “Oh my, is it time already?” Pushing back from the table she scampers out of the room.

Hank and Mikey exchange looks and shrugs. Hank was quick to start filling his face again.

Click clack click clack

The pungent stench of over priced perfume covers the savory notes of the casserole. Heavy and pointed steps echo on the tile flooring. As the noise draws closer, the soft jangle of many rings of jewelry. Then, a high pitched squeal.

“Oh mah gawd little Mikey!” Tan skin, long black hair, and a garish outfit of mismatched furs and fabrics.

“Theresa!” Mikey jumps from his seat and embraces the woman. Both speak in quick garbled inside lines and messages before Mikey turns and presents her to Hank. “Theresa, this is my husband Hank. Hank, this is my cousin Theresa.”

Hank, red in the face, quickly swallows the food in his mouth and wipes it with his napkin. He stands and offers his hand “How ya doin’- I mean, a pleasure.” His hand covers hers like a baseball mitt.

A pleasant quiet falls over the dinner table. Hank, now keenly aware of his posture and eating habits, sits idly like a statue as the cousins reconnect. He was happy just soaking in the happy glow of his husband. Then Theresa turns her attention to him.

“Now Hank, Aunt Martha says you are quite the story tella’.” She leans forward in her chair, her emerald eyes piercing through him.

“I-I mean I can spin a good yahn yeah.” He shifts in his chair.

“C’mon Hank, don’t be so modest.” Mikey rests a warm hand on his shoulder and squeezes gently.

Theresa scoots her chair closer, it squeaks loudly “I know just what I wanna hear! Mikey has been keeping his trap shut about it, how did you two get togetha’?”

“W-well I don’t kn-know about dat one.” Hank looks at Mikey. His gentle smile and light shoulder patting put Hank at ease. “Alright alright, twist mah arm why don’t cha?” He smiles coyly and rests his hand on Mikeys “So I had just spied this handsome sumbitch on a…uh…dating application.”

“He means Grindr.” Mikey interjects, turning Hank a brilliant shade of scarlet.

“Y-yeah that…anyway-”

***

It was a crisp spring morning. Not a single cloud in the sky to hide away the brilliant blue. A gentle wind carries along it the sweet scene of newly bloomed flowers, fresh lawn clippings, and fresh linens from beyond the eyes. In this beautiful time was a quaint little park; nestled amongst the only greenery left in the city. Here the sounds and smells of the concrete jungle could, at least for a time, be forgotten. In this park was a bench sat near a duck pond, and on this bench was a man of stout stature fidgeting with his collar.

Thick black hair was slicked back into wavy rows, the gel glinting in the high noon sun. His face was cleanly shaven but dark stubble was once more betraying his boyish appearance. Arms looking to be bursting out of his juniper purple polo, a size too small, the color complementing his complexion. Grabbing a handkerchief from his tan cargo shorts, he dabbed away the beaded sweat from his brow.

He keeps glancing down at his phone.

“Hank?” A voice calls from behind the man.

He shoots up at attention before shrinking back down to a reserved slouch, head lowered slightly.

Turning to face the voice his heart fluttered.

Standing across from him was the most handsome son of a bitch he had ever laid eyes on. He was lanky sure, but he filled out that navy blue button up and black slacks no problem. Long brown hair was tied in a back ponytail that playfully flitted about on the breeze. And that knitted vest, how could he not be entranced by the handmade clothing?

Before he could think further he was wrapped in a warm embrace. The man’s cologne tickling his nose.

“Oh Hank, it’s so great to finally meet up!” the man squeezed tighter, then just as quickly let go and took a step back and cleared his throat, “sorry, I should have asked.” He rubbed the back of his neck and forced a chuckle.

“N-n-no you’re g-good.” Hank pulled at his collar to try and cool off. “L-likewise Mikey.”

Awkward exchanges out of the way the men took a seat back on the bench and remained in silence. When one would go to speak, so would the other. They were caught in a standstill.

“Eh-hem, so Hank…did you have anything you’d like to do?” Mikey rested his hand on Hank’s, but his eyes remained averted.

“W-well, since you a-asked, I do.” Don’t say you, don’t say you! “I know of a really nice café down the road. Would you like to grab a cup?” Hank motioned vaguely in its direction.

Mikey smiled and nodded, “That sounds nice.”

So the men made their way out of the greenery and back into the gray. As they walked they made small talk about their day, what they had been up to since they last messaged each other, and other easy to digest topics. Reaching their destination both men made an attempt to open the door for the other, that was until another guest was leaving the establishment and held it open for the two. With muffled thanks they scampered into the dimly lit establishment.

Inside the sounds of chimes and bells filled the air, along with ethereal instruments. The air was chilled but not cold and strange aromas pestered. Staff waited in stiff stillness behind the counters, their faces contorted into proximations of pleasant smiles. As the men approached the register the cashier leaned forward and grinned widely at the men.

“Good afternoon gentlemen, welcome to Titania's Tonics, what will we be having today?” Her voice was more of a croak than actual words.

Hank and Mikey were too busy looking at the long list of drinks to notice her clawed fingers and subtly pointed ears.

“So what are you thinking?” Hank muttered to Mikey.

“I’m not sure, what do you usually get?”

“Oh this is my first time, like I know of the place, but uh, never been in.” Hank shrugged and looked to the cashier, “Hi, um, can I just get a black coffee please?”

“Certainly, and for you sir?” She looked to Mikey.

“What kind of blend is your coffee made of?” He was still looking at the menu.

“Oh we use a house blend, all of our beans are grown back home and roasted on site. It’s a proprietary blend however, can’t share. Now what can we started for you?” Her grip on the register tightened, the plastic creaking.

“I’ll just have the same, a black coffee please.” Mikey smiled politely at the cashier, unaware of the predatory glint in her eyes.

“Of course. Now,” she licked her lips “may I have your names?”

Hank looked around the empty café and then back at the menu, “Wait sec, how much is this costing us? I’m, uh, noticing your prices ain’t posted.”

“I can get the bill Hank, don’t worry about it.” Mikey smiled and went to get his wallet.

Hank placed a hand on Mikey’s wrist, “Nah, nah, that ain’t it,” he looked to the cashier who was staring blankly at the men, “hey uh, ain’t you guys also suppose to be wearing name tags and such?”

The cashier forced a polite smile, “I left mine at home.”

Hank furrowed his brow and shook his head taking Mikey by the arm, “I’m sorry, no disrespect meant, but I think we’re going to take our business elseplace. Please have yourself a lovely day and a blessed evening.”

With minor protest Mikey was dragged by Hank out of the building and down the block, “Hank, I’m sorry but what was that all about?” Mikey asked, slightly embarrassed and flustered, pulling his arm away from Hank.

Hank paced back and forth on the sidewalk taking a couple deep breaths, “Look I’m sorry to have done that all sudden like, but, I know a front when I smell one. And that there, that weren’t no ordinary coffee shop. No prices listed, no identifying tags, and I think I saw a dude in the back without a hairnet.” Hank leaned against a wall and rubbed his neck and let out a long exhale.

Mikey leaned next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, “Are you okay?”

Hank tensed at the touch but relaxed and nodded, “I’m sorry, I was runnin’ off pure instinct. Are you? Hope I didn’t embarrass you much.”

Mikey chuckled, “ Well, it was a little jarrin’ but, I’ll trust your judgment on this. Here,” Mikey took out his phone and typed in a search request, “let’s go to Howie’s Hoagies and have a bite yeah?” He got up from the wall, walked a few steps and looked back, “My treat, I owe you for being my hero.” He winked, turned, and kept walking.

Hank was red as a tomato but followed.

After their pleasant, uneventful, meal; the men made their way back to the park. The bustle of the city was all around them at this point. Sticking close Hank found his hand in Mikey’s on a few occasions. He wasn’t going to complain. On their way Mikey spotted an antiques store and with muted protest Hank was shepherded inside.

The inside of the shop was lined floor to ceiling with pottery, old books, furniture of some Mediterranean origin, and countless statues. Hank shuffled behind Mikey who was fervently lost like a child in a candy store. Each new art piece was something to ogle and inspect.

They must have milled around the store for an hour or so before the owner slinked out from behind her counter. Her skin was dark bronze and sparkled in the light of the sun that filtered through the tinted windows. Her hair, thick braids, was tucked under a large olive sunhat. On her face rested a pair of dark sunglasses. Her movements were fluid and flowing as she weaved between the different aisles and shelves. The only sound to betray her presence was the clattering of her cane.

“Are you gentlemen finding everything alright?” Her voice slithered from her mouth in a motherly tone.

Mikey was currently engrossed in an etched bowl of stark white and deep blues. Hank was slouched over on an ornate footstool, snoring softly.

Looking up at the owner Mikey smiled and nodded, “Yes thank you. I must say you have an amazing collection of items! I’ve never seen so many antiques together outside of a museum, where did you get all of this, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“I’m glad you enjoy them,” she runs a finger along the chin of a nearby bust, “they are from back home. In my youth I was quite the collector of, fine, items. That bowl you have there, used to belong to my great-great-grandmother.”

Mikey gently sets the bowl down, “Amazing, why part with such sentimental things though?” His attention is caught by a large vase.

“Well, sadly, rents and leases can’t be paid for with old-world trinkets now can they?” She laughs.

Mikey has lifted the vase and is looking over the detailing of the paint, “If only, what are you askin’ for for this here?” He held the vase out to her.

Running a taloned finger across the terracotta she is silent as she thinks, “For that one, $2,000.”

Mikey beams, “Sold!”

Guiding him back to the register she sets a large weather tome down on the counter. Scanning over the pages she taps the spot on the page with the item description. Mikey fills out the identification out as needed but pauses.

“I’m sorry, but I’m,” he blushes, “well I’m kind of on a date, would it be alright if I left this here until I, or someone, can come around and pick it up?”

“That’s quite alright. Please keep in mind I do close my store around 5pm. Now how will you be paying?” She places a couple fingers on the upper rims of her glasses.

Mikey digs in his pockets, “Is check okay?” He sets his checkbook down on the counter.

“Check is perfectly acceptable.” She lowers her glasses a touch as he fills out the check.

Head down and writing, “A follow up question, do you accept donations?”

“I do.” She has lowered her glasses away from her eyes.

“Perfect.” He fills in the amount.

Glancing down at the check the owner is given pause, “Sir, I’m sorry but the vase is only $2,000.”

“I’m aware,” As he goes to hand her the check she fumbles as she places her glasses back over her eyes “but as you said, old trinkets don’t pay the bills. You have such a lovely collection, it would be a shame to see it all end up in the dump.” He smiles and goes to get Hank.

Muttering in his sleep Hank yelps in surprise when Mikey wakes him. The two share an awkward laugh before heading back out of the store. They do not see the owner holding the check and crying softly, an exhausted smile on her lips.

Now two men find themselves sat in a paddle boat, which is of course in the shape of a swan. The low sun casts not a harsh heat but a comforting glow around them and the pond. Hand in hand they lazily drift about the waters. They were discussing things about themselves, things not meant for instant messaging, and the events of the day. Between the shop and here, they had made several other detours and impromptu stops.

“So uh, Mikey,” Hank starts after an enjoyable stretch of comfortable silence “I um, I had a nice time today.”

“Mmhmm, me too Hank.” Mikey rubs the side of Hank’s hand with his thumb.

“Think you’d…um…I don’t know…maybe do this again?”

“I think I would, yeah.” Mikey smiles and rest his head on Hank’s shoulder.

“G-g-good! I m-mean, I’m gl-gl-glad. Cripes! Is it fuckin’ hot out here or what?” He fans himself and shifts his weight nervously.

Mikey chuckles and lifts his head. Placing a hand on the side of Hank’s head he looks into his eyes. Hank is frozen like a deer in the headlights. His breathing quick.

“You know, they say you shouldn’t kiss on the first date.” Mikey smirks and leans in a little closer.

Hank swallows hard and leans in a little closer as well, his face beet red, “Y-yeah?”

Both men can feel each other's breath and body heat as they get closer and closer.

Suddenly something cold and wet grabs Hank around the waist and he is pulled overboard. All at once the heat of the mid-day sun is washed away by an all consuming stagnant deluge. Sharp points dig into the side as the light grows dimmer and dimmer. He tries to look around but sees only the algal green of the water, and his own air bubbles fleeing to the surface. His vision starts to go dark as he hears a loud splash from above. Then, darkness.

The next thing he hears is a voice calling out to him. He then feels something warm and soft against his lips. Then his chest expands and everything floods back.

Sitting up he gasps and coughs, his head pounding. He presses on one side of his nose and expels water from the otherside, doing the same to the opposite side.

“What the fuck happened?” He croaks.

Mikey hands him something warm and soft, “Some bum tried to pull you under I think, I didn’t get a good look at the bastard.”

Hank dries his face off and realizes that the thing he was handed, was the vest Mikey had been wearing. Looking now at this date he saw him just as drenched. He hands the vest back but Mikey holds up a hand in refusal.

“Thanks for saving me.” Hank continues to dry his face and hair.

“I guess this makes us even.” Mikey jokes sitting close to Hank.

Hank pauses and takes a deep breath, he quickly turns and pecks Mikey on the cheek before looking back down at the ground, his head spinning. Mikey laughs and taps Hank on the shoulder. The two share a long look before leaning in, closing their eyes, and sharing their actual first kiss.

***

“Aaaaand, that is about how it went.” Hank leans back in his chair grinning.

The mother and sister sit in silence before erupting into high pitch noises.

“Oh-my-gawd! That is too freaking cute!” Theresa shrieks “Like somethin’ out of a movie!”

The rest of the conversation that evening was focused around the story. As the men indulged in the interrogation, they sat close to one another, hand in hand.

#writing #writeblr #original fiction #original writing #flash writing #Hank and Mikey #happy pride 🌈#Husbands in love #Just my favorite couple of guys #Also what better time to write their meeting story than pride

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zylev-blog · 5 months

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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.

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