Chapter Text
Prompt:
As you look straight ahead, you spot the glowing eyes of a monster. The same one that killed your family. That murdered your friends. Its eyes are full of hate and malice… or was it… remorse? You should really stop looking at that damn mirror.
Drabble:
Hal Jordan stared at his reflection. It was all coming together. He would revive Coast City, everything would be okay again!
He caught sight of a strange glow in his eyes, accompanied by a rush of rage and.... was that remorse? No, couldn't be. What does he have to be remorseful for?
Flashes of faces appeared in his mind. His fellow Green Lanterns, the Guardians, the Justice League..... Why do their faces make him feel so sad? They'll celebrate when he's finished! He should be joyful!
A spark of pain as he sees a memory - He's in space, taking rings off of his fellow lanterns, and then he leaves them there....
He shakes his head. No, no, they would be find. It wasn't his fault the Guardians lied and used them against him. Once he fixed Coast City, he would save them as well.
Hal walked away, ready to take the next steps in his plan. But first, he needed to make sure he stopped looking at his reflection. Mirrors seemed to only cause him pain now.
Prompt:
In an event called the Vanishings, people disappeared along with their memories in other people. However, their evidence remains. Clothes you’d never wear. A second toothbrush. Glasses, but you can see just fine. A wedding ring on the nightstand, for someone you don’t know.
Drabble:
Hal Jordan liked to explore. This time, he was visiting a more modern ghost town. The city - Coast City. No one knows why all the residents just left in the middle of whatever they had been doing, but explorers and photographers were grateful for a chance to glimpse modern life without having to stage anything.
Hal started wondering the streets, a strange sense of nostalgia washing over him. As he glanced around, he could swear he saw people running about, alive and free and happy. He shook his head. Clearly he was just imagining things. But then he stumbled upon a tree, with initials carved in the trunk. Very Familiar initials. One set was his, how curious! He reached out a cautious hand toward the carving, delicately tracing over the letters left behind. A beautiful smile filled his mind. It felt so real, familiar, and warm. Who had that smile? Why did it bring him such joy, but also a dull pain?
Prompt:
You dream you are in a battle and your sidekick tells you “I’m sorry I held them off as much as I could” before you awake. However you notice your dream catcher in tatters on the floor.
Drabble:
Batman and Robin found themselves in a brutal battle. No matter how many of these strange goons they kept knocking out, more seemed to take their place. Robin ran ahead, trying to find some sort of exit, while Batman kept the enemies focused on him.
Bruce could feel his strength vanishing with every blow he landed and every hit he took. Suddenly he heard a cry of pain, heart wrenching, the sign of a death soon to come. He raced as quickly as he could in the direction Robin had went.
There, he found Robin collapsed on the ground.
"Robin!" He shouted.
"B-Batman!" Came the hoarse reply.
Bruce scooped the young man up in his arms, desperately willing him to be alright.
"I'm here, Dick, I've got you son." He said softly.
"I'm....I'm sorry, I held them off as much as I could..." Dick trailed off, losing consciousness.
Bruce let out a howl of absolute grief, one that seemed to shatter the walls around him.
At that moment, he awoke. Looking around, Bruce found Dick curled up in his arms, thankfully appearing unharmed, and the dreamcatcher the boy had made was shattered completely beside them. What could this mean? Was it a vision of what was to come? Or perhaps a vision of what had already happened in another reality?
Whatever the case, Bruce vowed that he would protect his son.
Prompt:
Your daughter loves playing pretend, claiming that she and her friends are magical warriors choosen by a pure god to fight evil. But one day, you see a live news broadcast showing footage of her and her friends in strange dresses using magic to fight a giant monster in a nearby park.
Drabble:
"And then we transformed! I had this beautiful blue skirt, and this blue gem appeared out of nowhere and formed a tiara on my head! And then I had this wand, Shaped like a bird with brilliant blue eyes! And then-" Dick Grayson was rambling about his day. Again.
"Uh huh." Bruce muttered, only half playing attention as he finished some very important papers. He would never ignore his son, but there's only so many times one can listen to the same story repeated.
"And Donna, Roy and Wally transformed too! It was soooooo cool! So now we're all Magical girls fighting the forces of evil for the great goddess Freya! I can't wait to see what we'll be up against next!" Dick finished his story with a joyous laugh.
"That's great chum," Bruce said. "Just make sure you're careful! I wouldn't want you getting hurt!"
"You got it B!" He said before heading off to play again.
Bruce shook his head with a smile. That kid had some imagination, and so much energy!
The next day, after dropping off Dick at his friend Donna's house to play, Bruce went to work.
While he was falling out paperwork, a news program caught his attention. Tuning in, he noticed some familiar figures.
There, on the screen, fighting some strange Monster, and dressed up like Magical girls in an anime, were his son Dick, and his son's friends. Just as he had described it, they were there fighting evil, using magic, and somehow in a uniform complete with colour coordinated skirts that matched each of their styles. Bruce was stunned.
"My...my son.... is a Magical girl?" Bruce mumbled to himself.
"My son is a Magical girl?!" He repeated, dropping into a chair in shock.
Prompt:
“how badly you write, your hand shakes so that you can’t hold the pen steady. have you been running hard, or anything of the sort?”
“no, it always shakes: i once had a robin die in my hand; and they say that if a robin dies in your hand, it will always shake”
Drabble:
Bruce’s handwriting was not what it used to be. Once, it was immaculate, a beautiful flowing script. But now…. Now his hands always shook whenever he tried to write. Today, he was writing a letter to Jason, his son. Yes, Jason was dead, but that didn’t matter. Bruce believed, wherever he was, Jason was able to read and enjoy the letters. As he wrote, he heard a voice from the doorway. It was somewhat familiar, but also strange.
“I’ve never seen your hands shake like that before. You can’t even seem to hold the pen steady! We’re you out running?” The voice asked.
Bruce refused to look up. The letter was far more important than any visitor. With a sigh he said “No, they always shake like this. You see, I once had a Robin die in my hands. As the saying goes, if a robin dies in your hands, they will always shake.”
Bruce pushed the memory down. He refused to ruin the letter by crying. He used the letters to keep Jason up to date on all that had happened, so they needed to be as legible as possible.
With a small breath, the stranger stepped forward and said, “Even if that Robin managed to return?”
Bruce blinked in surprise before, finally, looking up. There, standing before him was Jason. His Jason. Yet, different. This one was a little older, a little bigger, a little different, but Bruce could still easily see the young boy who had carved a permanent place into his heart.
“Jason?!” Bruce exclaimed, shocked, “But…. But how?!”
Jason shrugged, a grin on his face, and said “Honestly, I don’t know… but I’m not complaining!”
Bruce laughed. The first true laugh he’d been able to laugh since Jason’s death. He quickly pulled Jason into his arms.
“My son…. My beautiful son…. I’m so glad your back!” He mumbled into the young man’s shoulder.
“Me too, dad… me too!” Jason replied, tucking himself into Bruce’s embrace.
Prompt:
Jason gets locked out and panics he's been kicked out the family because he can't get his key to work but it's all just a misunderstanding and cuddles ensue
Drabble:
Jason made his way home to Wayne manor after a very long night. He still had his safe houses, but lately he felt far more comfortable being around his family. His family. He hadn’t thought he could be part of a family again, not after his death and what came after. But here he was, finally feeling like he really belonged, like everyone genuinely cared and wasn’t just being nice to keep him from attacking them.
He pulled out his key and put it in the lock. But it didn’t fit. That’s odd…. Jason tried again, thinking maybe he just put the key in upside down at first, but it still didn’t fit. Panic started to set in as he kept trying to get his key to fit. What could he have possibly done to cause this change? Why would they kick him out now? They swore they wouldn’t abandon him! Why did he believe them?!
Just as the anxiety spiral was reaching its peak, Alfred opened the door.
“Oh, Master Jason! Perfect timing! I have you’re new key right here!” He said with a bright smile.
“New…. key?” Jason asked, the haze of his panic starting to slip away.
“Of course! The old lock was beginning to fail us, any key could open it! So Master Bruce ordered new locks installed and new keys made for the whole family. Here is yours.” Alfred said, as he gently placed the key in Jason’s palm.
“Then… I haven’t been kicked out of the family? You all still want me?” Jason asked, his voice so small he figured no one would have heard him.
“Kicked out?! Why, Master Jason, of course you are still a part of this family!” Alfred said, stunned, as he pulled Jason into the house.
Jason followed along numbly, still stunned from the anxiety spiral and the reveal that he was still wanted. He didn’t notice anything until he felt a strong hug, clinging to him like a lifeline. He looked up to find Dick holding onto him and pulling him further into the room. Everyone else was there and talking, though Jason couldn’t really hear them, his mind was too busy whirling. As they pulled him into a massive hug, he couldn’t help but cry. As the tears fell, he heard the words he thought he'd never hear again.
“You’ll always have a place here. I love you son.”