elyslynn

[elyslynn]

A change in tides part 02

(Tim drake x male reader series)

.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝 ｡𖦹°‧.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝 ｡𖦹°‧.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝 ｡𖦹°‧.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝 ｡𖦹°‧.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝 ｡𖦹°‧

The great gates of Poseidonis’s harbor opened, and through the shimmering currents sailed the visitors from distant realms and the surface world. The Justice League and Young Justice emerged from their vessels, their forms surrounded by softly glowing bubbles of air—an ancient enchantment crafted by Poseidonis’s mystics and enhanced with Atlantean technology. These shimmering domes hummed with arcane energy, a protective barrier against the crushing pressure and cold of the deep ocean, allowing surface dwellers to breathe and move freely beneath the waves.

As they stepped onto the grand coral docks, the contrast was striking—armor and suits forged on land, now moving with grace in the alien environment, their breaths steady, eyes wide with awe.

Aquaman himself awaited them on the steps of the palace, his presence commanding yet calm, the trident resting easily in his hand. Beside him stood his trusted council and ambassadors from the Eight Kingdoms, including you, the newly crowned God-Touched King of Velorion.

Superman’s gaze swept over the sprawling city of Poseidonis with approval—the ancient spires crowned with drifting kelp gardens, the grand arches carved from glowing stone, the ever-shifting tapestry of bioluminescent lights illuminating the great hall where the summit would be held.

The Justice League and Young Justice stood quietly at the edges of the room, their presence acknowledged but unobtrusive. The shimmering air bubbles around them—an ancient enchantment fused with Atlantean technology—allowed them to breathe and move with ease in the ocean’s depths.

They watched as monarchs from the Eight Kingdoms took their seats on thrones carved from ancient coral and mother-of-pearl, each cloaked in the symbols and colors of their realms.

.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝 ｡𖦹°‧.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝 ｡𖦹°‧.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝 ｡𖦹°‧.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝 ｡𖦹°‧.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝 ｡𖦹°‧

Aquaman presided from his seat at the center, calm but commanding, the trident resting within easy reach.

Poseidonis’s king observed the assembly with the weight of the sea in his eyes, while the ruler of Velorion—yourself—sat composed, radiating the quiet strength of your divine lineage. Your silver-gold robes shimmered beneath the bioluminescent lights, and Celestial’s Edge, sheathed at your side, seemed to pulse with latent power.

The Council Hall of Poseidonis hummed with ancient power, its vaulted coral walls glowing softly under bioluminescent lights. The Justice League and Young Justice stood discreetly to the side, their air bubbles keeping them breathing and moving freely beneath the waves.

The monarchs of the Eight Kingdoms settled into their ornate thrones, their expressions guarded and eyes calculating.

Aquaman’s voice rang out, calm but authoritative. “The seas grow restless. Our kingdoms cannot afford division.”

Poseidonis’s presence filled the room with weight. “We seek unity, yes, but also accountability. Those who threaten the balance must answer.”

Tritonis’s queen, dark-eyed and sharp-voiced, leaned forward. “Balance? Or dominance? Velorion’s influence grows too bright, too fast. This Gathering cannot become a stage for one kingdom’s ambition.”

Your eyes met hers calmly, voice steady as you responded, “Strength is measured not by shadows cast on others, but by the light one brings to all. Velorion’s prosperity is a beacon, not a threat.”

From Xebel, the masked envoy’s voice slithered like a current. “Ambition is a tide that drowns the unwary. Wise rulers heed the undercurrents as much as the waves.”

Nanauve’s mystics murmured in riddles, their leader speaking in half-words. “The old stars fade, new stars must rise — but not all stars burn pure.”

Shaeyris’s ruler, cool and precise, interjected, “Let us not forget the recent incursions beyond our borders. These are not natural tides, but provocations. We must consider defense as well as diplomacy.”

Aquaman’s gaze sharpened. “We will address these threats, but we must first present a united front.”

The hall grew tense. Eyes flicked between you and other rulers.

You raised a hand lightly. “If I may — unity requires understanding, not just strength. The threats facing us are many: pirates exploiting forgotten reefs, the surface world’s reckless pollution, and whispers of darker forces beyond even our sight.”

Your voice carried conviction. “Velorion offers its resources to strengthen our alliances, sharing healing arts and star-forged weaponry. Let this Gathering mark not division, but cooperation.”

A murmur passed through the hall.

Poseidonis’s king inclined his head. “A reasonable proposal.”

Tritonis’s queen shot a sidelong glance, but said nothing further.

Xebel’s envoy smiled thinly but made no objection.

Nanauve’s mystics nodded subtly.

Shaeyris’s ruler studied you closely before responding, “Words of light are welcome, but let actions follow swiftly.”

Nearby, Tim listened intently, catching the nuance of every exchange.

“Think he knows they’re all sizing him up like prey?” Conner whispered.

Kid Flash grinned. “Bet he’s already three moves ahead.”

Conner whispered, “That Velorion kid’s got guts. Standing up to Tritonis like that.”

Kid Flash added, “And he knows what he’s talking about. Pollution and piracy—those threats hit close to home.”

Nightwing observed, “He’s balancing respect and assertion, testing the waters without provoking war.”

Damian’s voice was sharp. “Every monarch here plays a game. Velorion’s king just changed the board.”

.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝 ｡𖦹°‧.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝 ｡𖦹°‧.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝 ｡𖦹°‧.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝 ｡𖦹°‧.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝 ｡𖦹°‧

The meeting recessed with the same practiced grace it began. Monarchs drifted from their thrones like schools of wary fish, retreating into smaller clusters to whisper strategy behind glassy smiles. The palace staff of Poseidonis moved like a tide, offering refreshments and clearing the tension like sediment from the water.

Tim broke away from the group with quiet purpose. While Conner and Nightwing discussed the Xebel envoy’s veiled threats, and Kid Flash snuck an extra drink bubble, Tim followed the trail of soft light filtering through coral archways and kelp curtains until he reached the palace gardens.

There you stood.

Among the glowing bloom of ocean-lilies and gently pulsing light-vines, your silhouette was still — poised, but not rigid. The gold-trimmed fabric of your robes fluttered slightly with the current, your gaze fixed on a small school of shimmerfish dancing among the stems.

Tim approached slowly.

“You always walk off during recess?” he asked gently.

You turned, not startled, but amused. “Only when the room feels more like a cage than a council.”

Tim moved to stand beside you, eyes flicking briefly to the fish. “You held your own in there.”

“Did I?” you murmured. “Some days I wonder if diplomacy is just warfare spoken in lullabies.”

He let out a quiet laugh. “With rulers like that? You might be right.”

A pause.

You glanced at him, then looked back toward the lilies. “They see me as a symbol, not a sovereign. It’s not the crown they doubt—it’s the boy wearing it.”

Tim tilted his head. “I don’t think they know how to define you yet. And that scares them.”

You gave a quiet hum of agreement, then let the silence hang for a moment—peaceful, not heavy. The bioluminescent vines twinkled gently overhead like fallen stars.

“Do you ever get tired of pretending you’re not tired?” you asked, voice soft but raw.

Tim blinked, surprised by the question. “More often than I’d admit.”

You nodded, then smiled lightly. “Then we’re alike in more ways than one.”

Tim chuckled. “So what do you do when the pressure gets too much?”

You turned toward him, expression brightening slightly. “Ah. That’s when I seek out pastries.”

That drew a blink from him. “Pastries?”

“Mhm.” You began walking slowly along the garden’s winding path, and Tim followed. “When I was little, my tutors would think I was meditating during lessons. In reality, I was memorizing all the hidden pathways through the palace kitchens.”

Tim laughed. “You? Royal rebel?”

“I had a habit of wandering off to the kitchens,,” you said, feigning solemnity. “Silent, unseen… feared by coral cake rolls and honey pearl tarts alike.”

Tim chuckled, arms folding as he leaned against the railing. “Let me guess—the staff knew the whole time and just played along?”

“Oh, without question,” you said, eyes glinting with the memory. “Especially the royal baker. She had the kindest heart—and a soft spot for my sweet tooth. I think she saw it as a noble cause. Sometimes she’d leave out little saucers covered with seashell lids and a note tucked underneath. ‘For His Radiant Highness,’ it would say, ‘May This Keep Him From Spoiling Supper.’”

You both laughed, but there was a quiet warmth in the air now, a softness wrapped in the scent of old memories.

You both laughed, the tension melting further.

Then you slowed, letting the nostalgia linger.

“I think I miss that version of myself sometimes,” you admitted. “Before the power. Before the sword. Before they started calling me God-Touched like it was both a blessing and a warning.”

Tim’s smile faded into something gentler. “I don’t think you’ve lost him. I think you just wear more layers now.”

You looked at him, studying his face—not just the eyes, but the steadiness behind them.

.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝 ｡𖦹°‧.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝 ｡𖦹°‧.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝 ｡𖦹°‧.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝 ｡𖦹°‧.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝 ｡𖦹°‧

[elyslynn]

A change in tides part 01

(Tim drake x male reader)

AN: officially graduated today :). Short chapter overall, I intend to drop a longer one soon

⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧

The golden banners of coronation still fluttered in the water like silk constellations, gently pulled by the currents weaving through the towers of Velorion. Though the ceremony had ended, the capital shimmered with the breath of celebration—echoes of song in coral chambers, silver petals dancing along the marble steps. The crown now sat on your brow, weightless but immeasurable.

You stood alone on the highest terrace of the palace, overlooking the kingdom that had risen with you.

Velorion was beauty carved into legend—its streets paved in white shell and gold-veined stone, bridges laced with glowing kelp and moon-glass, and high towers that spiraled like starlight into the sea’s expanse. The whole city glowed beneath a net of bioluminescent lights strung between spires, an artificial night sky to mirror the one above. They called it the Kingdom Beneath the Sailing Stars—a realm not ruled by steel and tide alone, but by radiance, legacy, and grace.

You were not a stranger to it. You were born into this kingdom, raised in its heart, and crowned by its devotion. The people did not fear your power—they had watched it bloom from the moment your veins first shimmered with golden-red light. You had mastered it before you ever wore a crown. To them, you were not a weapon, but a wonder. Their sun beneath the sea.

You passed down the marble steps, nodding to guards clad in armor that glinted like dawnlight on water. They stood not out of fear of what you could do, but out of reverence for who you already were. In the Hall of Songglass, your steps echoed with quiet music—a resonance built into the architecture itself. The air carried the scent of ocean lilies and sea-wax candles still burning from the night before.

You paused before a tapestry older than Velorion itself. It depicted the descent of Asterion, the star-god who fell from the heavens, dying as he plunged into the ocean. In the woven starlight, his divine essence scattered—his light seeding the royal line of Velorion. Every monarch since had been marked by a unique blessing. Your great-grandfather wore a crown that revealed the truths others dared to hide. Your grandmother cloaked herself in silence and storm. Your mother ruled with a halo of healing light, her touch enough to knit flesh and quiet pain.

Your blessing was stellar anchor, granting you the sword—Celestial’s Edge—a blade forged of a collapsed core star, summoned only by your will. It was not a weapon you learned, but a gift given, the way a torch is passed from one sacred hand to the next. Its weight did not burden you. Its light did not burn you. It belonged to you the moment your fingers closed around it, as though the god who gave it had always meant it to rest in your palm.

Later that day, you walked the market lanes below the palace. You wore no disguise. There was no need. Children greeted you with laughter. Vendors called your name, offering golden pomegranates and pearl-wrapped sweets. An old woman, her skin like dried kelp and her voice like smoke, pressed a small token into your palm—a carved replica of your sword, bound in silver string.

“You shine like your mother,” she said softly, her blind eyes turning toward you. “But stronger, brighter, like her heart grew wings.”

You smiled, touched her hand, and tucked the token into your sleeve.

Back in the throne chamber, as twilight settled through the city’s dome of light, your advisors gathered in a ripple of tension. The Gathering of the Eight Kingdoms drew near. It would be your first as king—a summit where rulers from Poseidonis to Crastinus would come together, speak in veiled threats, and pretend to be allies.

Poseidonis, proud and ancient, still called you a ceremonial child. Tritonis scoffed at your elegance, calling you “the silk prince.” Xebel mocked your silver-threaded robes and polished diplomacy. Crastinus whispered that your blade was more theater than threat. Even the mystics of Nanauve had begun to cast doubt—if only in riddles.

Shaeyris, sharp-tongued and secretive, called you a plaything of a dying god. Neptunos watched with silence, but silence, in court, was rarely neutral.

They called you the God-Touched King. To your people, it was a blessing. To the others, a pretty title for a prince with no scars.

⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧

[elyslynn]

A Change in Tides (Tim Drake x Male reader) Character info

AN: Happy finals week to anyone taking finals!!, good job and congrats for making it so far, I've had to take a small step back but now I'm ready to write and learn some more lol. This is more of a character info before i finish up the chapter.

⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧

Stellar Anchor is the reader's unique ability, centered entirely around a single soulbound weapon—Celestial’s Edge—a mythic sword forged from a collapsed core star. It appears in bursts of starlight and gravitational distortion and can only be wielded by its summoner. The blade houses a rotating star core, allowing for gravity-based abilities like slashing shockwaves, impact-heavy strikes, and high-pressure cuts.

The sword can orbit its user, creating a gravitational shield or battlefield disruption, and its Starflare Strike channels intense heat and pressure into a radiant slash that burns through barriers and repels foes.

The reader's Solar Veins glow golden-red during heightened emotion, enhancing their strength and precision. They link the reader to the sword, allowing it to be reforged if broken. Overuse results in visible strain—light bleeding, glowing skin, and overheating.

Though powerful, the sword’s strength depends on the user's emotional clarity. It isn’t limitless—more divine instrument than cheat code. The reader makes no other weapons. Just this one: a starborn blade that defines them—graceful, radiant, and overwhelming.

⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧

Origins:

The kingdom of Velorion, born from the remnants of a fallen god, is known as the Kingdom Beneath the Sea of Stars. Nestled in a tranquil ocean trench where constellations shimmer through sapphire waters, Velorion is a kingdom of breathtaking beauty—its cities built from pale crystal, flowing silver reefs, and mirrored stone that reflects the sky even in the deepest dark.

Legend says the star-god Asterion fell here, his dying light absorbed by the sea and woven into the blood of Velorion’s royal line. His fall gave birth to a kingdom touched by the cosmos.

His dying light splintered, seeding the royal bloodline of Velorion, the Crown of the Sailing Stars. To each heir, he leaves a single divine gift, shaped not by duty, but by the soul. 

You are its newest king. young, warm-hearted, and unmistakably divine.

The people of Velorion love you deeply. You are their sun beneath the sea—bright, bold, and sincere. You speak with compassion and confidence, your smile often the first thing to enter a room. You laugh easily, speak truth plainly, and carry yourself like someone who believes in softness without surrender. But there’s more to you than charm—beneath your golden aura lies the quiet gravity of someone born to carry stars.

You wield Celestial’s Edge, a blade forged from Asterion’s broken core. You summon it with a thought, and its glow casts shadows across the ocean floor. It is yours alone to command—a weapon of legacy and power, proof that your bloodline still burns.

The other kingdoms aren't as kind. They call you the God-Touched King, the pretty boy of the deep, a prince playing god. They mock your elegance and brightness, seeing softness where there is control. 

⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧ ଳ ‧₊° ⋅⋅°₊‧

AN: Chapter 1 should be out soon, let me know if you think of any changes or something you would like to see explored in this story. I'm still learning so help or guidance is appreciated.

[elyslynn]

The Unseen Link.05

AN: tried keeping it shorter I hope you enjoy. And ofc same as always lmk if theres any issues or questions I'm starting to get the hang of it

Word count: 2k

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INT. LEXCORP STORAGE CORE — MOMENTS AFTER THE WYVERN’S DEFEAT

The dust hasn’t even settled.

The twisted wyvern has collapsed into flickering fragments, its essence unraveling like ash in a breeze that no one feels.

You’re still standing at the center of it all—arms lowered, shoulders trembling, eyes unfocused. Static clings to your skin like memory residue.

Someone calls your name.

“[Y/N]?” It’s Robin—closer now. “Hey. Are you with us?”

You blink slowly, eyes glazed. Head tilted slightly like you’re hearing something far away.

Your breathing is shallow. The world around you feels thin. Fragile.

Wally steps closer. “Hey—[Y/N]—it’s over. You did it. We’re safe.”

Your eyes meet his.

Blank.

“...Who are you?” you ask.

The world goes still.

“w-what?!” Wally’s voice cracks. “No—no, come on, that’s not funny.”

Miss Martian floats closer, worry carved into her face. “Your mental signature just… dropped. Are you okay?”

“What do you mean who?” Artemis asks, stepping toward you. “It’s us. It’s your team.”

You turn toward them slowly, eyes distant.

Your gaze scans their faces, searching for something familiar—but landing on nothing.

Everyone goes still.

your eyes dart between them, confused, flickering with panic. “I—I don’t… I don’t know you…”

Miss Martian gasps, reaching out with her mind instinctively. “Their neural pattern—it's… scattered.”

“[Y/N]—” Superboy rushes to you now, voice urgent, cracking. “Don’t do this. Don’t forget.”

“It’s me!” he nearly yells. “It’s Conner! You—before the mission—”

Superboy fumbles suddenly, reaching into your jacket pocket.

He pulls out something folded and worn.

The photo.

His arms crossed, standing near the waterfall at Mount Justice. He’s not even looking at the camera — Miss Martian’s in the background laughing at something, Wally mid-sprint.

You stare.

He stares at it for a second—then holds it out like it’s made of glass.

“I gave this to you before we left,” he says. “Told you that, you keep things still, and that you help the rest of us remember we’re real.”

Then slowly—trembling—you reach out. Your fingers brush the glossy surface.

A beat passes.

You blink.

A moment passes

Your eyes land on Superboy.

“…Conner.”

He nods, jaw tight, voice low. “Yeah. I’m here.”

A beat.

Your breath comes in gasps—but your eyes are clearer. Recognition creeps back in like dawn.

“I know you…” you whisper. “I remember now.”

The whole team exhales like they were all holding their breath at once.

Artemis wipes her eyes—quick, quiet. “Welcome back, [Y/N].”

Miss Martian gently lowers to the floor beside you. “You scared us.”

“I scared me too,” you mutter, clutching the photo tighter. “Thanks for pulling me back.”

Wally kneels down beside you and grins, trying to cut the tension. “Okay, we are definitely framing that picture now.”

Wally sifts through a pile of warped debris left by the wyvern. He pulls something out with a grin.

" Tell me this doesn’t belong in a horror movie.”

It’s a LexCorp employee ID badge, half-melted and fused to a hard drive, with a casing that pulses faintly with residual energy.

Robin raises an eyebrow. “You’re keeping that?”

“Are you kidding? This baby’s going on the trophy shelf—right next to the robotic eye.”

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INT. BIOSHIP – RETURN FLIGHT – NIGHT

The team sits mostly in silence. [Y/N] rests, dazed but stable. The photo remains in their hands.

Superboy sits across from them—quiet. Protective. Watching.

Robin glances over. “The League’s gonna have questions.”

Aqualad nods grimly. “And not all of them will be kind.”

The bioship hums softly as it pierces through the clouds.

They’re going home.

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INT. MOUNT JUSTICE – MAIN HALLWAY – NIGHT

The bio-ship lands with a soft thud inside the cavernous hangar of Mount Justice. The sound of its engines powering down echoes throughout the empty space, and the team steps out, all a little worse for wear after the mission. The tension in the air is palpable.

Superboy stays close by your side, steadying you as you take a few shaky steps. The others follow, casting concerned glances your way.

Once inside the central command area of Mount Justice, the team is greeted by the League members. Green Lantern, Wonder Woman, and Batman are already present, their gazes sharp as they watch you approach.

Batman steps forward first. "Report."

Aqualad clears his throat and takes the lead. "The mission was successful. We retrieved the stolen LexCorp technology and neutralized the wyvern threat. Minimal casualties on our side. However…”

His gaze flickers toward you, and you can feel the weight of the unspoken words.

“[Y/N] experienced a sudden short term memory loss during the mission. It seems the trauma of the battle triggered some kind of block.”

Wonder Woman furrows her brow. "Memory loss? How serious was it?"

Wally speaks up, trying to mask his discomfort with humor. "Uh, well, they kinda forgot who we were for a minute there… but they bounced back, don’t worry."

Batman doesn’t look impressed. “And how exactly did they bounce back?”

Miss Martian’s voice is soft but firm. “They did. They were able to regain their bearings once we were able to reorient them. But they didn’t remember us. Or the mission, at first.”

The room goes quiet, the Justice League members exchanging looks that suggest concern. Green Lantern crosses his arms, skepticism written on his face. “Amnesia? Complete? Seems a little… off.”

Aqualad meets Green Lantern’s gaze. “It wasn’t complete. It was a temporary condition, caused by stress and trauma. [Y/N] has never been in a situation like this before.”

Superboy’s jaw clenches, but he speaks up, his voice filled with uncharacteristic frustration. “It’s not like we were planning for something like this to happen. [Y/N] handled themselves well throughout the mission—better than most would, given the circumstances.”

Black canary steps in, her tone gentler. “They are part of the team. It’s important we treat them as such. We all understand that the pressures of a first mission are hard to handle.”

“They need rest. Not suspicion.” she calmly states

Green Lantern narrows his eyes, clearly still skeptical. “I’m just saying this is something we should monitor. A loss in memory could be a sign of something bigger. If they’re going to be a part of this team, we need to make sure they’re stable.”

Miss Martian looks at you with a soft but unwavering gaze. “They’re not a liability. They’re our teammate. No one doubts them, not even for a second.”

Artemis, who has been standing by, her arms crossed, speaks up, her voice sharp but firm. “None of us were perfect when we started. And none of us had a smooth first mission. But we were all there for each other. I’ve never seen a teammate more resilient than [Y/N].”

Aqualad nods in agreement. “We’ve trained together. We’ve fought together. And we trust them. This isn’t just about memory loss; it’s about understanding that sometimes, things happen we can’t control.”

Wally’s hands are animated as usual, and he adds, “Yeah! They totally came through when it counted. I wouldn’t want anyone else by my side, honestly.”

You swallow hard, trying to ignore the rising lump in your throat. The support from your team helps, but the heavy gaze of the League still feels overwhelming.

Batman’s gaze sharpens, but his words are carefully measured. “We can’t ignore what this could mean for the team. A lapse in memory is dangerous, especially in the field.”

Aqualad stands firm, defending you. “This was their first mission, supervised by us. We were there the entire time.”

 Robin adds quickly, his voice tight with frustration. “You really think we would let someone go out there if they weren’t ready? [Y/N] has proven themselves time and time again in training. We wouldn’t put them in that position if we didn’t trust them.”

Batman’s dark eyes settle on you, and though his words are clipped, there’s a trace of something more—concern? “We’ll be keeping an eye on this, [Y/N]. If there are any more incidents like this-, we’ll need to reassess...”

Superboy cuts him off, stepping forward with more force than he usually displays. “Don’t say it like that. [Y/N] is fine. They just need time, just like the rest of us did. You really want to keep questioning them?”

For a beat, Batman says nothing. He seems to consider Conner’s words, then simply nods. “We’ll monitor them. And if the situation worsens, we’ll revaluate.”

“Thank you,” you say quietly, though you still feel the sting of their doubts in the air. "I’ll be alright."

The League’s presence still hangs heavy, but after the team’s impassioned defense of you — their anchor — the air finally shifts.

Batman’s gaze lingers on you for a moment longer, unreadable.

Then he speaks. Measured. Firm. But no longer dismissive.

Batman: “Despite the anomalies and complications… the mission was a success. You contained a memory-based anomaly, secured some LexCorp tech, and returned with zero casualties. That’s not a minor accomplishment.”

You blink, surprised.

Batman turns his gaze to the rest of the team.

Batman: “You worked as a unit. Adapted. Protected one another. That’s what a team does.”

A flicker of pride — subtle, nearly imperceptible — passes through his voice.

Batman: “Good work.”

Wally’s brows lift. “Wait, was that a compliment? From Batman?”

Robin smirks. “Don’t ruin it.”

Wonder Woman gives you a gentle nod. “Rest. Recover. What you’re experiencing isn’t failure — it’s growth. And it’s part of the path.”

Black Canary steps forward next, voice soft as always when she addresses you. Canary: “Come see me tomorrow, [Y/N]. Not for an interrogation — just a check-in. We’ll take it one step at a time.”

You nod slowly, trying to hold your ground — even if your mind still feels like it’s standing on uneven stone.

The League begins to disperse.

And the silence that follows? It’s gentler than the one before.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:

INT. MOUNT JUSTICE – LOUNGE AREA – NIGHT

The echo of departing Zeta-Beam hums fades, and for the first time in hours… silence.

Real silence.

The team just stands there in the main hall, blinking at one another, as if they’re all waiting for something else to go wrong. But nothing does.

It’s Wally who finally breaks the moment.

Wally: “Soooo… am I the only one who feels like I aged three years in the last four hours, or?”

Artemis: (dropping heavily onto the couch) “Nope. You just whined enough for all of us.”

Wally: “Wow, the gratitude. I literally saved you from being dive-bombed by a memory-lizard.”

A moment later, Robin digs into his duffel and pulls out a beat-up board game — the label on the box barely hanging on.

Robin: “Okay, I’m calling emergency emotional CPR. Team bonding protocol, Alpha-1. We’re playing ‘Supervillain Monopoly.’”

Wally: “That game takes four hours, dude.”

Robin: “Exactly. We deserve four hours of bad decisions and fake money.”

Artemis: (smirking) “If I get stuck with Joker’s Funhouse again, I’m flipping the board.”

M’gann: “I make no promises about not reading your minds.”

[Y/N]: (grinning faintly) “Can I just build hotels on Cadmus and call it symbolic revenge?”

They laugh — tired, real, relieved laughter.

And just like that, the heavy fog lifts.

The game begins. The snacks come out. Wally keeps sneaking cookies from the fridge and blaming it on “temporal cravings.” M’gann makes cocoa float between players with cute sparkles. Robin keeps making terrible puns. Artemis wins at strategy but loses at bluffing. Superboy doesn’t understand the rules but somehow still ends up with the most money.

You laugh so hard you nearly cry at one point — and no one says anything about it.

It’s not perfect. There’s still that undercurrent of tired worry beneath the surface. But in this moment? You’re all okay.

Together.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:

The laughter from the lounge still echoes faintly in your ears as you shuffle into your room, hoodie half-zipped, eyes heavy. 

You’re finally alone. Still.

You sink down onto your bed with a quiet sigh, stretching out.

For the first time since the mission, your thoughts begin to slow — not stop, not yet — but quiet. The hum of distortion is gone. The team is safe. The world feels... mostly solid.

Your eyelids flutter.

You exhale.

Drip.

A drop of water hits the top of your head.

You glance at the ceiling. Nothing.

Then, quietly, you swing your legs up and lie back.

Drip.

Another drop — this time landing on your pillow beside your ear.

You sit up again, eyes narrowing.

Your fingers dip down to the floor.

Wet.

Your socks squish softly against it.

The water’s rising.

Slow.

Silent.

Inch by inch, it crawls up from the baseboards, spreading like a calm tide across the room’s floor. Clear and cold, with no source. No sound beyond the rippling whisper of it rising.

Your breath quickens. You step back—

You grab for your door—locked.

Not by key.

By something else.

Slosh.

Ankle-deep already.

You try the door one more time to no avail 

You scramble onto your bed, but it doesn’t help. The water follows — lifting higher, brushing against your mattress. The air pressure changes, humming in your ears. Lights flicker.

The water reaches your chest.

You shout — or try to — but your voice is a murmur, like sound doesn’t work here anymore.

You try to resist, to stay above it—

—but the mattress buckles beneath you and the entire bed tilts, like a raft sucked under by a whirlpool.

You go with it.

Pulled downward.

Eyes wide.

Lungs tight.

Until the ceiling above you is just light—rippling, warped—and then it's gone.

The room is gone.

And you’re falling…

Into the deep.

TO BE CONTINUED...

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:

AN: I think I have an idea on where to kinda end this arc and then pick up with the main story on chapter 6. Ill write a couple of episodes then time skip to season 2 andddd figure the rest from there :)

[elyslynn]

The Unseen Link.04

Young Justice x GN! (Psychic/Meta) Reader

AN: HIII I finished my first final today so I was super excited to get back to work.. This chapter is kinda long soo let me know if you like the longer chapters or would rather I break it up to 2k words each part. Ofc I'm still new to this please let me know if there's anything you'd like to see or improvements and ofc enjoy!

Word count: 3.2k

◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇ ◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇──◇──

The bioship glides through the upper atmosphere, clouds peeling away like pages as the team gathers inside the softly glowing interior.

A holographic map of Blüdhaven hovers between them, projected by Robin’s gauntlet. The city is dim, lights sparse along the industrial outskirts — and one zone flickers with digital static.

Aqualad steps forward, voice calm and commanding.

“A LexCorp storage facility on the outskirts of Blüdhaven has gone dark,” he says, motioning to the red zone. “Locals report hallucinations. Objects appearing where they shouldn’t. Time glitches. Memory spikes.”

“Memory spikes?” Artemis raises an eyebrow.

Miss Martian frowns. “Could be another psychic distortion. Like the rift.”

[Y/N] softly replies, “A memory spike is like a scar ripping open. You don’t just see what was — you feel it, live it. Sometimes it’s one person’s past. Sometimes... it’s everyone’s all at once.”

Robin taps on the map, cycling through surveillance images — some grainy, others outright impossible. A hallway that loops in on itself. An elevator door on the ceiling. A vending machine full of melted clocks.

“No comms. No power. The League suspects this isn’t just tech failure — it may be reality degradation.”

You stiffen slightly.

They’re looking at you now.

Aqualad nods once. “This mission will be more recon than assault. We don’t know what we’re dealing with. Our first goal is containment. Second is evacuation. Third — recovery of any affected personnel or tech.”

Robin points to each teammate in turn.

“Miss Martian, you’re our psychic buffer. You’ll help us keep our heads straight inside. Kid Flash and Artemis: outer perimeter sweep. Secure an exit route in case things turn.”

“Superboy and I will breach the facility’s west access point,” Aqualad adds. “We’ll search for the command center.”

Finally, his gaze lands on you.

“[Y/N], you’ll remain central. You’re our anchor. Track memory distortion. If things twist — time, identity, space — we’ll rely on you to recognize the breach.”

Robin leans back in his seat, arms crossed. “And if you are the breach?”

“Then,” you say quietly, “you’ll know where to find me.”

A beat of silence. Not tense — just... loaded.

Superboy looks over at you, his eyes steady. “You won’t lose control.”

You nod once.

You hope he’s right.

The bioship begins to descend, Blüdhaven’s skyline approaching fast in the dark.

Aqualad raises his voice, just slightly. “Gear check. Five minutes to drop. Stay sharp. We don’t know if this facility is bending reality… or breaking it.”

The team slips through the broken service entrance of the LexCorp facility. The interior is eerily quiet — industrial corridors lit by flickering lights, the air charged with static and something colder. Older.

Robin checks his scanner. “No security feed. No staff. Just interference.”

Miss Martian floats a few inches off the floor, eyes glowing faintly. “I feel… echoes. Strong ones.”

You step forward cautiously. The walls seem to breathe faintly — expanding, contracting. The hum of reality distorts like a warped cassette.

Superboy narrows his eyes. “I don’t like this.”

Then, it hits.

A memory spike.

It’s not visual at first — it’s emotional. A sudden wave of crushing dread — like loss, like screaming in your own throat with no sound. Then the environment glitches. A cold hallway flickers and becomes… a warm kitchen? For half a second. Then a cemetery. Then a school hallway with lockers that melt into filing cabinets.

Robin stumbles back. Artemis gasps, hand to her head. Miss Martian doubles over midair.

“Something’s overriding our senses!” she cries.

Aqualad’s voice cuts through static. “This is it — a spike!”

Then you feel it too. The pressure in your skull. But unlike the others, you don’t collapse. You breathe in.

Because to you, this chaos has structure.

You close your eyes and walk forward, right into the heart of the distortion.

“ follow me,” you say. “Just trust me.”

Your fingers graze the wall — and you feel who it belongs to. A woman. Technician. Late 30s. She ate lunch here every day for two years. Then she lost her job. You anchor her memory, thread it through your fingertips.

The hallway stabilizes for a second. Just long enough for Robin to reorient.

“[Y/N], what did you do?”

You exhale slowly. “I found the strongest memory left behind — rooted us in it. These spikes? They’re like whirlpools. You drown unless you grab something real.”

The world ripples again. Another wave hits.

This time, Superboy is suddenly eight years old — in a Cadmus pod. He falls to his knees.

You reach him, palm to his shoulder. “That’s not now. That’s then.”

And with effort, you overwrite the hallucination — a memory mist of warm sunlight and gravel, a Mount Justice training day. He remembers. The pod fades.

His breathing steadies.

Miss Martian floats beside you, eyes wide. “You’re not resisting the memory field. You’re using it.”

You nod. “This place is breaking. I can stitch it. But we need to find the source — or get out before it collapses.”

Robin’s voice comes in through the comm. “Storage core. West wing. It’s pulsing like a beacon.”

You turn to the team.

“We need to move,” you say, voice firm.

◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇─

Your team nods. They fall in behind you.

The hallway stretches ahead — flickering overhead lights, rusted pipes groaning softly like something exhaling. You start walking. Every footstep echoes longer than it should.

Miss Martian whispers, “I feel like we’re being… watched.”

Robin tilts his gauntlet. “Power readings are off the chars. See this spike?” He shows you a blip on his scanner. “It’s repeating every twenty-three seconds. Like it’s stuck.”

“Glitching?” Artemis asks.

You keep walking. The static in the air thickens. There’s a faint click-hiss-click rhythm now, like machinery breathing.

Then, without warning—

You round a corner—

—and you’re back at the service entrance.

The broken LexCorp door groans open.

Robin’s already scanning.

Aqualad says, “Let’s go—”

You blink.

Wait. Didn’t you already—

No.

You shake it off. Must’ve misstepped, turned around, or doubled back somehow. The facility layout’s twisting. You’re probably hallucinating. Right?

You walk again. Same hallway. Miss Martian floats slightly ahead this time.

“I feel like we’re being… watched,” she whispers.

Your skin prickles.

Robin tilts his gauntlet. “Power readings are off the charts—see this spike? Repeating every twenty-three seconds…”

The words hit you harder this time.

No.

You spin toward him. “You said that already.”

He blinks. “I’m showing you now.”

Artemis raises an eyebrow. “You okay?”

You stare down the hall again. Same shadows. Same hiss-click. The same pipe dripping every four seconds.

“I—I think I heard that before.”

“You probably did,” Superboy mutters. “Echoes everywhere.”

But it’s not just that. It’s everything.

The cadence of Aqualad’s next words. The look Miss Martian gives you. Robin tucking his scanner back exactly the same way.

The team slowly starts advancing forward.

Suddenly, you’re back at the entrance. The broken service door slams open again like it never happened. Robin’s scanning again. Artemis is tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Miss Martian floats inches off the ground.

You whirl to face them. “We’ve done this.”

Robin looks up. “Uh… what?”

Superboy frowns. “No we didn’t.”

You step backward, your chest tightening. “Yes , we did.”

The hallway breathes again. Then flickers.

You're at the service entrance. Again. And again. The door slams open. Robin scans. Aqualad speaks. Again.

Every time, you remember.

Loop Four.

You try to write something. It vanishes.

Loop Seven.

You slam your hand against the wall. Feel the memory of it. You mark it with a burn. When the loop resets—it’s gone.

Nothing carries over. Except you.

Loop Twelve:

The lights flicker, and suddenly, you’re standing alone in the bioship. The team is gone, erased from the world, and in their place is a single photo on the dashboard: you—alone—staring back from a past you can’t remember.

The lights flicker..

..

..

Loop Eighteen:

You're back with the team?

Aqualad turns to you with a reassuring smile, but the moment his eyes meet yours, they are empty. No soul behind them, just hollow voids. His lips move, but the words are wrong. They aren’t his.

Loop Twenty-four-ish?:

The hallway stretches endlessly before you. You dash ahead without the team relentlessly, you turn a corner, but the door that should be there is gone, replaced with a mirrored reflection of yourself—standing perfectly still, smiling back at you. A beat later, the reflection blinks.

Loop Thirty?:

You’re back at the storage core, but this time, something flickers in the corner of your eye, a monster..?, no must be my eyes. It’s a fragment of someone you know. Superboy, his face frozen in a scream. You reach for him, but your hand passes right through.

 Loop ???:

You feel the edge unraveling in your mind. Like a film reel melting mid-frame. Nothing holds.

But something deep inside you whispers:

Remember.

You close your eyes.

The world falls away—and you reach.

Loop 1:

The hallway stretches ahead — flickering overhead lights, rusted pipes groaning softly like something exhaling. You start walking. Every footstep echoes longer than it should.

Miss Martian whispers, “I feel like we’re being… watched.”

Robin tilts his gauntlet. “Power readings are off the charts. See this spike?” He shows you a blip on his scanner. “It’s repeating every twenty-three seconds. Like it’s stuck.”

“Glitching?” Artemis asks.

You close your eyes, the weight of the distortion pressing in on you. Your hand rises, fingers shaking slightly as you focus. The air hums, thick with something broken and unfamiliar.

You take a deep breath, letting it steady your racing heart. The world around you warps, flickering like a dying light.

“Remember,” you whisper, the word grounding you, pulling you back to the present. The ripples in the air tremble, but you hold fast. You won’t let it slip away. Not again.

The air shimmers in front of you, a ripple that feels like reality itself is bending under your fingers. It should be impossible, this feeling, this fragile thread you cling to. But the world doesn’t have to make sense. Not when you’re the one weaving it back together.

You exhale slowly, focusing. You won’t let it slip away again. Not this time.

Your hand brushes against the memory that holds them all together.

Artemis — laughing with powdered sugar on her nose at Mount Justice’s kitchen table, flicking a donut crumb at Wally. “Bet you can’t catch that before it hits the ground, speedster.”

Wally — catching it, obviously. “Pshh, please. I was born catching things in slow-mo.” Then tripping over his own feet a second later and pretending it was part of the plan.

Robin — blasting music too loud, shouting random trivia during training drills. “You can’t spell ‘team’ without me!” Grinning, masked, thirteen years old and fearless.

Miss Martian — hovering above the lake, lifting water into shimmering spirals, inviting everyone to try. “It’s all just rhythm. You have to feel it.”

Aqualad — kneeling beside Conner in battle, steadying him after a psychic attack. “Your strength is not only your fists. It is your focus.”

Superboy — standing at the edge of the cliff behind the cave, quiet, uncertain. The reader beside him. He asks, “Do you think we’re more than what they made us?”

You pull each memory closer—thread by thread.

They shimmer in your mind’s eye like silk strands, glowing faintly.

You reach out and begin to weave.

Each thread crosses another.

It’s messy. Imperfect.

But it’s real.

You open your eyes—and the loop collapses like a deck of cards. Not destroyed—reformed.

Time snaps back into place with a breath like thunder.

You’re all standing in the core now—together.

The glitching has stopped. Reality no longer shudders beneath your feet.

Robin is holding his head. “Okay... that was definitely not normal.”

Artemis leans against the wall. “Did I just live through the same twenty minutes five times or am I losing my mind?”

Miss Martian’s eyes are still glowing faintly. “No… you’re not imagining it. We looped. I think… I think [Y/N] pulled us out.”

They all turn to you.

You’re shaking, just a little. Weaving leaves traces.

“I linked you,” you say quietly. “All of you. A memory you shared — something real enough to override the distortion.”

Aqualad frowns. “You anchored us.”

You nod. “Memories don’t just fade. They fray. And if you weave them back together—something stronger forms.”

Superboy steps closer. “That moment… the lake… that wasn’t just a memory, was it?”

You smile, soft and tired. “It was the truth. And truths hold.”

There’s a long beat of silence.

Then Wally breaks it.

“Okay, so... not to kill the vibe or anything, but did I just watch Artemis throw the same donut crumb at me five times? Or was that, like, a metaphor?”

Artemis rolls her eyes. “You missed it three out of five, genius.”

“Excuse you, I caught it in every timeline. One of them just didn’t count because Robin sneezed.”

Robin mutters, “Oh my god, I did sneeze.”

Miss Martian giggles under her breath. “This was… really weird.”

Wally grins, still breathless. “Weird? This was existential Inception-but-make-it-sci-fi-horror levels of weird. I swear I saw my third grade math teacher in a vending machine.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah. That tracks.”

Robin breathes out, more serious now. “You brought us back.”

Wally gives you a soft look beneath the humor. “Yeah. You did. Thanks for… pulling us out of whatever that was. Seriously.”

You smile.

“All I did was remember how.”

◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇─

The lights flicker once more, and the presence grows heavier.

A sudden crack breaks the silence—the walls shift. The space distorts, twisting into something unfamiliar, like it’s being remembered wrong.

Then, from the center of the room, a low, grinding growl vibrates the floor.

A twisted form emerges from the distortion.

It’s an abomination of memory—a mass of shifting shadows and broken light, its jagged wings scraping against the air as it unfurls them. Its scales glint like shards of shattered glass, reflecting fragmented flashes of light that dance across its form. Its eyes are endless pits—burning, unstable—glowing like the hollow of forgotten things. The wyvern's body is stretched, deformed, wings too large, claws too sharp.

It lunges forward with a shriek that is somehow both human and inhuman at the same time.

You stumble back, feeling the sudden weight of it. The energy in the room feels wrong—thick with the taste of broken time.

“Is that...?” Superboy growls, eyes narrowing. “Is that even real?”

Your voice is sharp, calculated. “No. It’s not. It’s a sentient construct. A creature formed from a rift in memory. It’s a broken fragment—an echo that’s trying to exist.”

Aqualad is already on alert, hands raised, water swirling around him like a shield. “This isn’t just an anomaly. This is alive.”

The wyvern screeches again, and a blast of jagged energy explodes from its open maw, nearly hitting you. You dive to the side, your heart racing. The ground trembles beneath you. The creature thrashes, its claws raking the floor like knives through fabric.

It’s not just a mindless beast. It’s a thing that remembers itself.

Artemis draws her bow in one smooth motion, firing an arrow that explodes against its chest—but the wyvern’s body ripples, like liquid metal, absorbing the impact. It turns its head toward her with that hollow, endless gaze, and for a moment, it’s almost like it’s searching for something.

It shrieks again, lunging straight for Artemis, but Wally zooms in, grabbing her in the nick of time and pulling her out of harm’s way.

“Whew—close one!” he yells, but his voice is strained, edges fraying from the power of the creature’s presence.

You know this thing isn’t just fighting—it’s reacting to something. Something deep inside it that calls to you.

You move toward the creature, hand outstretched, trying to gather the threads. Your fingers brush the flickering light of its form. The wyvern pauses. Its eyes flash brighter.

“Why… do you fight?” it rasps. “I am you. You have forgotten me. Why do you remember?”

You flinch, breathless.

It remembers—and it knows. It knows that you hold the keys to this madness.

“No,” you answer, trying to steady yourself as the room twists once again. “I remember nothing like you.”

It snarls, and this time the ground cracks beneath its feet. The wyvern’s body warps as it swipes at you, but you summon the strength to pull its memories into a single thread—one that doesn’t break, one that binds.

The creature lets out a tortured roar, thrashing wildly.

The wyvern roars again, its body now a tangled mess of fractured memories, shifting between forms—glimpses of broken pasts, twisted images from forgotten moments. You can feel its instability, its very existence unraveling as it thrashes violently.

Your heart pounds in your chest. The air crackles with tension, the room warping with every breath. Each step you take toward the wyvern feels heavier, the weight of reality pressing down on you.

Aqualad, Artemis, and the rest of the team are holding their ground, but the wyvern’s distorted form keeps them at bay. They’re fighting something—something that isn’t even fully real.

You can’t let this thing tear apart their minds any longer.

Steeling yourself, you step forward, ignoring the flashes of memory trying to drag you under. You raise your hand, fingers outstretched, feeling for the core of the chaos, the heart of this broken thing. The wyvern sees you coming, its glowing eyes flashing with recognition—or maybe desperation.

You reach for it.

The moment your fingers touch its form, the world around you shifts violently. You close your eyes, gritting your teeth as the flood of memories threatens to overwhelm you. You feel the creature's pain, its confusion, the fractured echoes of its existence—not real but desperate to be. You pull on the strands of its being, weaving the threads together, forcing the memory of its existence to solidify.

With one final push, you drive your hand deep into the heart of its chaos. There’s a sickening crack, and a surge of energy floods the room as the wyvern’s form convulses. The ground shakes beneath your feet, and the walls pulse with an unstable force, but you hold fast.

You twist your hand inside the heart of the beast, severing its connection to the memories. The wyvern’s body buckles, collapsing into itself as its scream echoes in your mind. It thrashes one last time before it’s no longer a thing of substance, just an empty shadow, its essence flickering out of existence.

But as it falls, its gaze locks onto you.

A voice—soft, broken—whispers through the chaos.

“Will you remember me?”

Time slows. The world feels like it’s holding its breath. You stare at the creature, its broken eyes burning with a strange, desperate light.

For a moment, it almost seems human—a lost piece of someone who shouldn’t have been forgotten.

You swallow, your breath shaky. “I... I can’t.”

The wyvern’s body crumbles into dust, fading away like a dream you can’t hold onto.

You stand there, hand still raised, the silence heavy in the air.

Tears sting at the corners of your eyes as your chest tightens, your breath catching painfully in your throat. You open your mouth, but the words won’t come. You know the truth. You can’t carry everything. Not every lost thing, every broken fragment.

But the question still lingers in the air, wrapping around you like a ghost: “Will you remember me?”

You stand frozen, your hand trembling as you wipe away the tear that slips down your cheek.

For a moment, you’re not sure if the tear is for the wyvern, for yourself, or for the countless memories you’ll never be able to save.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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AN: I hope u guys enjoyed it! I'm gonna try getting two chapters done this weekend so fri-sunday so expect more then. Next chapter you will get your super important evaluation from the bat.(+more team bonding and maybe some backstoryy stufff) and then introduce zatana and maybe do that training sim episode or somethinggg... I'm thinkingggg

[elyslynn]

*♡∞:Master list:∞♡*

Started: 5/12/25

Updated: 5/30/25

DCU

-The Unseen Link Young Justice x Psychic/Meta Human Reader: Character Info, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5,

-A Change in Tides Tim Drake x Atlantean Prince Male Reader: Character Info, Part 1, Part 2

Misc.

-coming soon  (๑•̀ㅁ•́๑)

[elyslynn]

The Unseen Link ( Character Info)

AN: Making this for my latest series, the reader has quite confusing abilities so I think just laying out some of their abilities and the cause and effect of it all.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。゜。°。°。°。 °。°。°。°。°。°。°。゜。°。

Name of Power : Mnemonic Weaving

Description: The user holds the rare ability to access the deep, forgotten memory of the world—a hidden archive where everything that ever was still lingers in faint echoes. Through this connection, they can link, rewrite, or alter the memories embedded in reality itself. Cities lost to time, faces long gone, and even events that never quite happened can be remembered into being once more.

To onlookers, these manifestations may appear as illusions or reality-bending tricks. But the user insists: they are not conjuring lies—they are helping the world remember what it forgot.

Basic Abilities

Memory Restoration: Temporarily or permanently bring back lost structures, people, or events by recalling their place in the world's memory.

Memory Linking: Combine disconnected or unrelated memories to create hybrid realities (e.g., linking a battlefield to a tranquil garden to cause confusion or peace).

Selective Forgetting: Cause people or the environment to "forget" specific details, effectively erasing them from present perception or existence.

World Mirage: Induce vivid environmental changes by bending the memory of a place, reshaping terrain, weather, or atmosphere in subtle or dramatic ways.

Memory Key: Grants access to Memory Rifts—passages formed from the world’s forgotten thoughts and lost fragments. These rifts link distant locations using the world’s memory, through the Memory Zone, also known as the Sea of Memories—a chaotic yet serene expanse where echoes of the past drift endlessly, blurring the line between reality and memory.

Weakness – Cognitive Erosion

Using this ability comes at a steep personal cost. The more strain the user places on the world’s memory—especially through major restorations or long-distance rift connections—the more their own memory begins to erode. Personal recollections blur. Faces of loved ones fade. Their sense of self weakens with each heavy invocation of their power.

Light usage may sometimes cause momentary lapses—forgotten conversations, but frequent or extreme use can result in severe amnesia, emotional disassociation, or even memory loss. The more they help the world remember, the more they stretch their own memory thin, and risk forgetting themselves. (This is why the reader is found taking so many pictures, because they are memories you can hold and recall.)

[elyslynn]

The Unseen Link.03

Young Justice x GN! (Psychic/Meta) Reader

AN: Keeping these shorter I had free time today so double upload. pls be nice in the notes don't kill me pls. This part is mainly just reader growing into the team.

Word Count: 2.0k

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Five weeks later…

Mount Justice has begun to feel like something you never thought you'd find again: a home.

Your room is tucked in one of the quieter wings of the mountain — a space that once echoed with emptiness now, your room in Mount Justice doesn't feel like a bunker anymore.

It feels like you.

Soft string lights stretch lazily across the ceiling, casting a golden glow over the space. Mismatched furniture — a wide reading chair, a [F/C] throw blanket, a low vintage desk — gives it a quiet warmth. A hand-woven [F/C}  rug sprawls across the floor, furnished with a bookshelf to help cure your endless curiosity. The smell of lavender and old books clings to the air.

Plants spill from pots on shelves, reaching toward the light. Some bloom in hues that don’t exist in catalogs — their petals formed from lingering fragments of memory you tucked gently into soil. Beside them, a gallery of photographs lines the wall. Moments frozen. Tangible memories.

You often sit cross-legged on your bed, an old Polaroid camera in hand, snapping candid shots of the team when they least expect it.

A photo of Wally mid-fall during training.

One of M’gann laughing, flour on her face from a baking accident.

A blurry but warm one of Kaldur meditating by the pool.

Even Superboy — scowling in the background of a group photo, but present.

They pretend to be annoyed. But no one takes the photos down.

ৎ୭︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ৎ୭‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿ৎ୭︵‿︵ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

You meet weekly with Black Canary in the quietest room of the mountain. No cameras. No questions. Just honesty.

She asks careful questions. You don’t always answer. But you try.

You talk about the experiments — how they used your power like a scalpel. How they made you forget yourself.

You tell her the hardest part isn’t what they did — it’s what you don’t know they did.

She listens. She simply just listens. Which honestly felt amazing.

You talk about Facility 13 — not in a linear way. It comes in fragments, like burned pages of a book you’re still piecing together. You talk about what it means to have your own mind rewritten, and worse — the minds of others used like clay under your fingers.

You describe your powers not as “abilities,” but as instincts. You don’t control memory — you navigate it. You don’t create hallucinations — you remind the world of things it forgot.

In your fourth session, she invites Martian Manhunter.

You’re wary at first.

But when he touches your mind, you let him in — just a little.

And that’s enough to stagger him.

He flinches, eyes widening. “You... you see memory not as sequence but as structure. Architecture. Your psychic field is not shaped like a mind. It's shaped like a library.”

His voice lowers, awe threaded with unease. “You could reshape perception... without a single invasive thought.”

You look away. “That’s why it’s dangerous. And why I don’t use it unless I have to.”

He nods slowly — not in fear, but in respect.

“I’ve met telepaths. Empaths. Psychic architects. But I’ve never met a Remnant Weaver.”

And in your fifth session, she says: “Pain doesn’t make you weak. It just proves you survived.”

You believe her. Not entirely. But you’re learning to try.

ৎ୭︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ৎ୭‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿ৎ୭︵‿︵ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

While living on Mount Justice for just over a month now you’ve gotten the chance to bond with your teammates and understand them better.

Robin doesn’t talk much at first, but one night, he leaves a small memory stick on your desk labeled "Old Security Footage – Gotham Academy Fire." You know it’s his quiet way of saying: You didn’t hallucinate. It happened. I believe you. 

  Robin also has started slipping you small tech from time to time — old servers, scavenged encryptions. You don’t ask why. He just says, “Might help with your memory board project.”

Kid Flash bugs you with relentless energy, asking if you can “memory-scan” the answers to a pop quiz. When you refuse, he says, “Worth a shot,” and later brings you a smoothie in apology. “You like strawberry, right? I mean—probably, right?” 

Kid Flash still pesters you, but now brings you weird candies from around the world and challenges you to photo scavenger hunts.

Miss Martian asks if you can see Martian memories. You try once — gently — and glimpse a red sky and a lullaby sung in a language that makes your bones ache. She cried a little, being overwhelmed with the feeling of homesickness . She hugs you almost immediately you can feel her start to cry into your shirt.

Miss Martian invites you to share minds again. You both explore a Martian childhood together one afternoon — but she lets you lead the way this time. She trusts you now.

Superboy doesn’t say much, but one day in the training room, he offers you a sparring glove without a word. You accept. His version of “you belong.”

Superboy watches you more than he speaks. But one night, you both sit in the gym long after training. No words. Just silence. A quiet understanding. Two people shaped in labs, made by force instead of choice.

When you finally say, “I used to wonder if I was even real,” he answers softly, “Still do.”

And neither of you feel alone anymore.

Artemis catches you taking a photo of her mid-stretch and glares. “Delete it.”

You do fairly quickly… not wanting to be on her bad side. But the next day, she hands you a much better, posed photo of herself with the note: “This one’s less ugly. Use it instead.”

Artemis lets you photograph her again — no notes this time. Just a smirk. She even frames one and puts it in her own room. It says more than she ever would out loud.

Aqualad checks in on you weekly. Not out of duty — out of respect. “Your insight is different,” he says once. “Like seeing from above and below at the same time.” It’s the most poetic thing anyone’s said about your powers.

ৎ୭︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ৎ୭‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿ৎ୭︵‿︵ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

Eventually-  You joined the team in training mainly consisting of simulations and team building exercises, but still even in training you got to show off just how versatile and an asset you can be.

For example last week:

The team is mid-mission in a VR sim: surrounded by LexCorp combat bots, shielded and unrelenting.

You press your hand to the ground.

The bots pause.

Then the world begins to melt.

Their sensors flicker. The sterile battlefield dissolves into a surreal ocean-scape — jellyfish floating midair, schools of fish darting through invisible currents, coral blooming through the walls.

They stagger, blinking in synthetic confusion.

And from behind them, you step forward.

Softly.

Calmly.

And say: “You were programmed to protect this place. But this place doesn’t exist anymore.” you remind them of a time when they didn’t exist to protect LexCorp — but to destroy it.

They hesitate.

Then turn on each other.

One by one, they tear themselves apart — not with violence, but like a dream ending mid-thought.

The sim ends.

“Okay,” Wally says, flat on his back. “That was... haunting. But also amazing.”

Robin whistles low. “Mental warfare without a single shot fired. That’s terrifying.”

You just dust off your hands. “They forgot what they were. I reminded them.”

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That night, the mountain goes quiet.

Until the hangar doors hiss open.

Batman steps out, every movement precise. The shadows bend around him like armor.

The team gathers, alert.

“A LexCorp storage facility on the outskirts of Blüdhaven has gone dark,” he says. “Locals report hallucinations. Objects appearing where they shouldn’t. Time glitches. Memory spikes.”

You feel a cold crawl down your spine.

He continues. “This will be your first supervised field mission. [Y/N], you’re coming.”

A moment of silence.

Aqualad nods. “Understood.”

You glance at the camera hanging from your neck. The same one you’ve used since arriving. You load in a fresh cartridge of film.

Because even in chaos, some memories are meant to be kept.

The team disperses from the hangar slowly, the weight of Batman’s mission still lingering in the air like smoke.

Outside the bioship, the evening is unusually calm. The sky is brushed with that deep indigo just before full night, stars peeking through like scattered thoughts. The mountain’s launch pad hums quietly beneath your feet.

You sit cross-legged near the ramp, your camera resting in your lap. You’re carefully checking the film, adjusting the light settings, brushing dust from the lens.

“Seriously?” comes a familiar voice behind you. “You’re bringing that thing again?”

You glance up to see Wally, arms crossed and wearing his usual smug half-grin. He jerks his chin toward the camera.

“What if we get attacked by, like, a mind-eating wormhole? You gonna ask it to pose?”

You smirk, not rising to the bait. “If it’s photogenic.”

He groans, flopping down next to you with an exaggerated sigh. “You’re the only person I’ve met who preps for a mission like it’s a wedding shoot.”

“Memories fade,” you say softly, your thumb grazing the shutter button. “This helps me keep them still.”

Wally goes quiet for a second — a rare feat.

Then: “That’s… actually kind of deep. Gross. But deep.”

You raise the camera, snapping a quick photo of him mid-sulk.

“Hey!”

You smile. “That one’s going in the archive. ‘Kid Flash caught having a genuine emotion.’ Rare specimen.”

Robin wanders over, hands in his pockets. “I give it two minutes before he tries to eat the film.”

“I do not eat film,” Wally mutters.

Miss Martian floats down from above, curious. “What are we talking about?”

“[Y/N] and their camera obsession,” Robin replies. “Again.”

Aqualad joins them, arms folded but amused. Even Superboy is nearby, silent but listening.

You glance around at them — these strange, reckless, brilliant people.

And you quietly tuck the camera strap around your shoulder.

“Just making sure I don’t forget this,” you murmur. “Any of it.”

They don't tease you after that.

The bioship hums low as it prepares for launch, its sleek body bathed in the cold blue lights of the hangar. The team begins to board — checking gear, syncing comms, reviewing mission parameters on holographic readouts.

You hesitate just outside the ramp, one hand resting on the camera strap slung over your shoulder.

Your fingers twitch slightly. The nerves are quiet, but there — not panic, just that gnawing undercurrent of what if I mess this up?

“Hey.”

The voice is rough, blunt.

You glance over your shoulder. Superboy stands there, arms crossed, brows slightly furrowed — but not from anger. It’s a familiar expression on him now: his version of concern.

He doesn’t say anything for a second. Just stares at the ship, then back at you.

Finally, he mutters, “You okay?”

You give him a half-smile, honest but tired. “First real mission. New powers. Mild existential dread. You know, the usual.”

He huffs through his nose — his version of a laugh.

“I know what it’s like. Being the wildcard.” His voice is lower now. “Not knowing how the team sees you. Or how much of you is even you.”

That catches you off guard.

He looks away, jaw tight, like saying even that much was a lot. But then he continues.

“You’ve been through hell. So did I. Doesn’t mean we break. Just means we come out... different.”

You nod slowly.

Then he reaches into his jacket — pulls out something small, square.

It’s a photo.

One you took. Him, arms crossed, standing near the waterfall at Mount Justice. He’s not even looking at the camera — Miss Martian’s in the background laughing at something, Wally mid-sprint.

You stare.

“You dropped this last week,” he says, handing it back. “Figured you’d want it.”

You take it gently, the weight of it somehow heavier than it should be.

“You keep things still,” he says, gesturing to the photo. “Helps the rest of us remember we’re real.”

A pause.

Then: “You’ve got this.”

Before you can say anything, he turns and heads up the ramp.

You watch him go — and for the first time since Batman gave the briefing, you feel your hands steady.

You tuck the photo back into your coat pocket.

And follow.

TO BE CONTINUED…

[elyslynn]

The Unseen Link.02

Young Justice x GN! (Psychic/Meta) Reader

AN: I wanted to continue from where i left off I thought about this super cool idea for more of readers powers and felt to show it off. I'm very new to this so pls stay with me if there are any mistakes. Lmk if you find this story to ur liking (｡´꒳`｡). I was thinking about maybe a romance interest for later on if I do continue and ppl like the story.

word count about = 4k ish or so :3

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The silence after your words settles heavy in the air.

Miss Martian lowers her hands slowly, as if afraid that any sudden movement might shatter the fragile moment. The rest of the team watches you with the same careful tension — the way someone might approach a memory that could vanish if touched too roughly.

You step forward, bare feet touching the cold floor like it's the first real thing you’ve felt in years. The biosensors around the pod flicker wildly, readings spiking into unreadable spectrums.

Robin speaks first. “You’ve been... conscious this whole time?” 

You tilt your head, voice calm. “Yes. And no. Some parts of me never stopped dreaming. Others... learned how to watch.”

Aqualad furrows his brow. “Then you know why we’re here.”

You nod. “To wake me up. Or end me. Or maybe both.”

Kid Flash looks like he wants to crack a joke — but thinks better of it. Behind you, the lights flicker. The facility groans. It feels like the building itself has started to notice your awakening.

Miss Martian takes a cautious step forward. “What did they do to you here?”

Your gaze drifts upward, toward the ceiling. Through it.

“They didn’t teach me how to use my gift. They taught me how to obliterate it.”

You close your eyes. And just for a moment, every mind in the room opens like a window — not forced, not invaded, but gently connected. A shared flicker of memory — of Miriam’s hum, the fire, the cryo-pod, the dreams. They all see it.

Then it ends.

Superboy stumbles back a step, blinking. Artemis stiffens, her hand on her bow.

Robin exhales slowly. “Okay. So... that just happened.”

Before anyone can speak again, an alarm sounds — low and urgent.

“Containment breach,” Robin mutters, scanning the console. “Someone tripped a failsafe. Looks like we’ve got company.”

You don’t flinch. “Facility 13 never lets go of anything quietly.”

Robin looks at his console. “ Tons of LexCorp reinforcements inbound. This just turned into a war zone.”

You raise your hand toward the wall — not to attack, but to trace something in the air. A symbol no one else recognizes flickers into being, pulsing faintly.

Behind the team, a hidden door shudders and begins to open.

You look at them. Calm. Certain.

“Come …follow me. I’ll path us a way out.”

Heavy boots echo through the corridors. LexCorp operatives — black armor, psi-resistant helmets, and weapons designed for metahuman containment.

Robin grips his bo staff. “We’re not making it out the easy way.”

You step between him and the advancing soldiers, unfazed.

You raise a hand.

And the world slows. 

The soldiers freeze, their movements slowing, their faces caught somewhere between confusion and disbelief. But you're not controlling time. You’re rewriting their perception of reality. A soft ripple in their minds, and suddenly, everything they know—their certainty—starts to fracture. They blink, and their surroundings twist. The room changes shape for them. The walls melt, and what they thought was the cold steel of a military facility turns into something else entirely: a memory they didn’t know they had.

One soldier suddenly remembers being a child, playing in a field of flowers, a carefree day in a place that feels familiar. Another sees his comrades laughing, their faces warm and alive, a peaceful moment from a life that never existed. He lowers his gun, confused, lost in the illusion you've spun for him.

Behind you, the team is already moving, their instincts sharp. Superboy barrels forward, knocking the disoriented soldiers aside with ease. Artemis shoots, her arrows taking out soldiers who are still struggling to shake off the mental fog you've cast on them. Robin’s staff cracks against a soldier's helmet, sending him crashing to the ground.

"Move, now!" Robin calls, his voice cutting through the mental fog. “We need to get out of here.”

Miss Martian steps forward, her green eyes flickering with something that might be a mix of awe and fear. She hesitates, watching you carefully as if seeing something new—and unsettling.

Your eyes meet, and for a moment, everything stills. Miss Martian’s breath catches in her throat. “You’re... rewriting their minds,” she murmurs, more to herself than anyone else. “You’re not just altering memories. You’re making them believe in entire realities that never existed.”

Miss Martian watches, wide-eyed, her hands hovering uncertainly. "How are you doing this?" Her voice trembles slightly, though she tries to hide it behind a mask of calm.

Miss Martian takes a step back, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. She's amazed, yes, but there's something darker in her expression too—something close to fear. "How far can you push this? How far can you change someone’s mind before... before it breaks them?"

One soldier, so disoriented, now remembers himself as a child with his parents, sitting in front of a fireplace, the warmth of the flames soothing him into a false sense of safety. His weapon drops from his hands, his knees buckle, and he collapses in front of you, overwhelmed by the flood of conflicting memories you’ve forced upon him.

Robin and Kid Flash move fast, dealing with the soldiers still reeling from your power, incapacitating them before they can recover.

But Miss Martian’s gaze remains fixed on you. Her expression softens, but there's still something unreadable in her eyes. She’s not sure what to make of you, of the sheer depth of what you’re capable of. And for a moment, neither are you.

It’s not just their minds you’re altering—it’s the fabric of reality itself. You’re walking a line between saving them and breaking them.

And then, the door bursts open, and more reinforcements flood in.

You shake off the uncertainty, pushing the thoughts aside. There’s no time for hesitation. You raise your hand again, and another wave of reality-shifting energy rushes through the soldiers, distorting their memories, making them question what’s real and what’s not.

"We need to get out of here—now!" you say, your voice steady, though there's a flicker of something darker in your eyes.

The chaos around you intensifies, the sound of footsteps growing louder as reinforcements flood the hallways. The team fights their way through, but you feel the pull of something more — something ancient, buried beneath the weight of the facility's renovations.

Miss Martian watches you closely, confusion and wonder crossing her face. "What are you doing?

Without answering, you extend your hands. Your fingers flicker through the air, tracing patterns only you can see, your mind pulling at the threads of time. You begin to weave, altering the fabric of the space around you, rewriting the memory of this place to reveal something long buried: a tunnel.

A forgotten passage that used to run deep beneath the facility, hidden behind walls that no longer exist. You push the memories of the old layout back into being, carving a path through the walls that once held it. The air around you vibrates, the sound of the facility groaning as if it’s waking from a long slumber. The tunnel begins to take shape, its walls rough and unrefined, built out of the faded impressions of an earlier, more chaotic time.

The team stares as the tunnel slowly materializes, a passageway of cracked stone and rusted metal that seems out of place in the sterile, white halls of Facility 13.

“This... this is insane,” Kid Flash mutters, his eyes wide, watching the walls shift and form as though they’ve been waiting for this moment.

“It’s the only way out,” you say, your voice soft but firm.

The team stares, but they don’t hesitate. Kid Flash mutters, "This is insane," as they move toward the tunnel.

Aqualad asks, "How long do we have?"

“Not long,” you reply. “Go.”

The team rushes into the tunnel as the facility groans behind them, the walls warping and shifting. Miss Martian gives you one last, lingering look—more understanding than fear now—and follows.

You’re the last to step in. The tunnel fades as soon as you’re through, vanishing like a dream. The building forgets it ever existed.

The team moves quickly through the tunnel, the cold stone walls crumbling slightly underfoot as they head deeper into the forgotten passage. The only sounds are the echo of their hurried steps and the distant groans of the facility above them, still trying to keep hold of the space you’ve reshaped.

Kid Flash, as usual, can’t stay still. His hands run along the walls, tapping here and there like he's trying to find something . His eyes light up with mischief as he touches a section of the tunnel. Immediately, the air ripples like water, and his hand passes straight through the wall, disappearing into thin air.

"Whoa, guys—check this out!" Kid Flash grins, but his voice holds an uncertain edge as he pulls his hand back, watching in fascination.

Before anyone can stop him, his curiosity gets the best of him, and he sticks his whole arm into the wall. As he does, the whole tunnel shifts, a distortion spreading outward like a crack in glass.

Miss Martian’s eyes widen, sensing the change. “Kid Flash, don’t—”

The tunnel warps around the team, walls flickering like faulty projections. Cold, damp stone gives way to smooth tile, then crumbles into shifting sand underfoot — all within seconds.

“Why is the floor sand now?” Artemis yells, nearly tripping.

Kid Flash skids to a halt ahead, staring at where his hand still phases through a piece of wall. “Guys... I think I broke reality.”

You whip your head toward him. “You touched the unstable sector. That wasn’t just a wall — it was a fault line in the memory.”

He yanks his hand back. “My bad?”

Too late.

The tunnel fractures again with a stomach-lurching twist, and suddenly, gravity tilts. The ceiling stretches into the sky. The walls open like pages. Massive jellyfish swim overhead through invisible water, glowing like paper lanterns. A storm of alarm clocks drifts past — all ticking backward. One opens like a clam and croaks out the name “Geraldine...?” before vanishing in a puff of blue smoke.

“What is this?!” Robin shouts over the rising distortion.

You keep moving, voice calm but strained. “A memory rift. A space where forgotten thoughts, abandoned imagination, and lost memory fragments go. I didn’t create it — I just... opened the door.”

Superboy shoves aside a velvet curtain that hadn’t been there moments ago, revealing another piece of hallway — only it’s upside down

The ticking grows louder. A giant grandfather clock appears again, this time half-sunk into the ground like a fossil buried in sand, its gears grinding out sparks. Time fractures with each chime.

You sprint ahead, eyes glowing faintly. “This place isn’t meant to exist anymore. It’s collapsing.”

The team runs, dodging a hailstorm of antique teacups and tangled marionette strings falling from the ceiling. For a moment, a door opens beside them — revealing a looping hallway full of people with your face.

“Don’t look in there,” you warn sharply. Kid Flash covers his eyes.

Finally, up ahead, the air tears open — not like glass breaking, but like silk unraveling. Cool night wind rushes in through the breach. You reach out, stabilizing the memory long enough to tear it open into a clean exit.

“This way!” you shout.

The team rushes through the rift, stumbling onto solid ground just outside the facility. The distorted tunnel implodes behind you with a strange, echoing laugh — and then silence.

The Bioship lowers from its cloaked hover, ramp open and waiting. Everyone piles in, breathless.

Inside, Robin leans against the wall, catching his breath. “Okay. That was not standard protocol.”

Kid Flash flops into a seat. “Can we never go in one of those again?”

Aqualad turns to you, calm but serious. “You said it was a memory rift. What... exactly is that?”

You glance out the window as the Bioship lifts off, the ruins of Facility 13 vanishing behind you.

“A memory rift is what’s left behind when the mind forgets something too important to truly disappear,” you explain quietly. “It’s not just thoughts. It’s dreams, stories, feelings — moments that got lost but didn’t want to die.”

The Bioship hums low and steady as it glides through the night sky, but the silence inside is anything but calm. Everyone’s in their seat — still, tense, alert. No one speaks for a long time. Even Kid Flash, who usually can’t go two minutes without cracking a joke, stares out the window, drumming his fingers against his leg in an anxious rhythm.

The bizarre, surreal chaos of the memory rift lingers with all of them. Like a dream they half-remember — too strange to explain, too real to forget.

You sit near the back, eyes half-closed, sensing their eyes drift toward you, questions thick in the air.

Aqualad breaks the silence first.

“We’ve seen alien tech. Magical realms. Even Zeta beam anomalies,” he says carefully. “But that… that wasn’t like anything we’ve encountered.”

You nod once. “It wasn’t supposed to exist.”

Aqualad turns to face you fully. He isn’t hostile — just steady, like a commander trying to understand a weapon he might one day have to stop. “What exactly is a memory rift? You said it’s where forgotten things go. But how does a space like that form? And how did you open it?”

You open your eyes, meeting his gaze. “Memory isn’t linear. It’s not just thoughts in the brain — it’s places, fleeting moments, and emotion. Enough people forget the same thing… and sometimes, it builds pressure. A rift. A pocket of memory detached from time or logic. Like a bubble in reality that no one remembers making.”

Artemis shifts uncomfortably. “So it’s like a psychic landfill?”

You tilt your head. “More like a museum curated by dreams, grief, and forgotten birthdays.”

Aqualad’s expression darkens slightly. “You were able to manipulate it. Shape it. Lead us through it. That kind of control — it’s dangerous.”

You don’t flinch. “I didn’t create the rift. I just remembered it hard enough to bring it back.”

Robin leans forward from his seat. “Wait — you remembered the tunnel? From where?”

“This facility used to be a different kind of building,” you say softly. “A research bunker. Before LexCorp refurbished it. I found echoes of the old floorplan buried in the walls — forgotten even by the people who rebuilt it. I just... pulled the memory forward.”

Miss Martian frowns. “But it collapsed the moment Kid Flash interacted with it.”

You glance at Wally, who shrinks slightly in his seat. “It wasn’t his fault,” you say gently. “Memory isn’t meant to be touched like that. He didn’t break it — he just reminded it that it was already broken.”

That hangs heavy in the air.

Aqualad finally speaks again. “What happens to people who fall into a memory rift?”

You pause before answering. 

You shrug lightly. ,”I don’t know.”

The team waits, watching you.

“Memory zones… they don’t follow rules. Not time, not space, not even thought. They're chaotic — pure instinct, raw feeling, half-truths stitched together. Sometimes they loop. Sometimes they shift. People can get lost in them. But what happens after…?”

You shake your head. “It’s different every time. And I’ve never seen anyone come out unchanged.”

The team sits in silence for a moment.

but the silence is anything but peaceful. The team is quiet — not just tired, but heavy, each one wrapped in their own thoughts, the weight of your words still hanging in the air.

Miss Martian floats near the front, arms crossed loosely, her gaze distant. “I’ve been in hundreds of minds,” she says softly, “but I’ve never seen anything like that. It wasn’t thought… it was something deeper. Like the space between thoughts.”

Robin leans back in his seat, tapping a rhythmic pattern on his knee — not out of habit, but to ground himself. “We’ve dealt with time loops, illusions, dream states… but this was something else. Like the whole place remembered us being there before we ever got there.”

Artemis snorts faintly. “And giant floating jellyfish. Can’t forget the jellyfish.”

Kid Flash gives a weak laugh, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I stuck my hand in a wall and accidentally broke reality. Top ten worst ideas of my life.”

Superboy hasn’t said anything since they left the tunnel. He finally speaks, voice low. “Places like that shouldn't exist. And if they do… then people like us shouldn’t be the ones walking through them.”

Aqualad nods solemnly. “This wasn’t a simple rescue. It was a revelation. We need to rethink what we’re dealing with.”

Everyone turns their attention back to you — quiet, calm, unreadable. The one constant in the chaos.

Robin speaks again, but this time his voice is softer. “Are you okay?”

You pause for a moment.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “But I’m starting to remember who I was before they tried to rewrite me. And that’s something.”

“Okay, well at least there's a start” Kid Flash mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “New rule. No poking the creepy brain tunnels.”

You crack a faint smile.

The Bioship begins its descent toward Mount Justice, the familiar mountain range peeking through the misted clouds.

Miss Martian’s voice comes through your mind “ETA, two minutes.”

Robin glances at you again. His voice is quiet this time. “The League’s going to want answers.”

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The room is cooler than you expected. Not in temperature — in tone.

A wide, steel-and-glass war table sits at the center of the chamber, ringed by silent giants. Titans of the world, of legend, seated like judges around a battlefield that hasn’t happened yet.

You stand before the Justice League.

Batman, stoic as stone, arms crossed. Superman, gaze calm but unreadable. Wonder Woman, regal, eyes sharp and assessing. Martian Manhunter, unmoving, his presence like a wall of thought pressing in at the edges of your mind. Aquaman, stone-faced, focused on Aqualad as much as you. Green Arrow, leaning back slightly, watchful, sizing you up. Black Canary, quiet but warm, her eyes softer than the rest.

And Aqualad, standing beside you.

The silence stretches.

Batman breaks it.

“[Y/N] [L/N]. Disappeared two years ago during the Gotham Academy fire.” His voice is flat. Efficient. “Presumed dead. Body never recovered.”

He taps a console. Files open in the air — surveillance, missing persons reports, photos of you as a child. “Your family lineage includes ties to esoteric research, early mind sciences, and… arcane anthropology. Hidden history. Well-buried.”

You say nothing. You don't need to. He already knows.

Martian Manhunter’s voice follows, deep and wary. “Your presence is... disruptive. Not psychically invasive, but ambient. You carry echoes of others. Impressions of lives. Minds that are not yours.You carry... residual psychic matter. Your presence brushes against minds, even when passive. A storm of memory—raw, unfiltered, unclaimed.”

His eyes narrow slightly.

“You did not push into my mind. Yet I felt you.”

You speak softly. “I don’t invade minds. I find what’s been left behind. Sometimes that includes people.”

Wonder Woman leans forward, her voice firm. “And what are you now? A child abducted by LexCorp, experimented on… yes. But what did they leave behind? What did they turn you into?”

You look at her evenly. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

There’s a pause. Then Green Arrow chimes in, arms crossed. “You turned a hallway into a collapsing dream circus. That’s not exactly your average meta-human abilities.”

Superman folds his arms. “Your powers — how far do they reach?”

You hesitate. “Farther than I want. And not always in a straight line.”

Then from the shadows, The Flash speaks up — arms crossed, unusually serious. “Yeah, about that. That memory zone you dragged the team through? That wasn’t just psychic weirdness. That was a pressure fracture — like a scab over time and thought trying to hold itself together. That's just my theory for now.”

He paces as he talks, motioning with fast, restless hands.

“I’ve seen time splinters. Temporal anomalies. Time ghosts. What the team walked into wasn’t just a dream or a mindscape. It was something caught between existence and erasure.”

He pauses, eyes narrowing just slightly.

“If someone touches a zone like that the wrong way — say, a speedster trying to phase through — it could destabilize localized reality. Rewrite cause and effect. Create a memory that never happened… or erase one that did.”

You glance at him. “It wasn’t supposed to open that wide. I only meant to find an exit.”

Flash shrugs. “And you did. But that kind of power, kid? That kind of instability? Who knows what it holds.”

Wonder Woman interjects. “Then the question becomes — is this child a healer, or a weapon?”

The room builds in pressure and silence.

Black Canary steps forward before anyone else can pile on.

“I’ve seen kids broken by far less,” she says gently, looking at you — not like a threat, but like a person. “Whatever LexCorp did, you survived it. That matters. You didn’t lash out. You saved the team. That matters more.”

Her voice softens.

“You didn’t ask for this power. Or this pain. But you didn’t let it consume you either.”

The room is quiet. Until Green Arrow mutters, “Still… feels like we’re standing next to a walking reality glitch.”

And then — Aquaman: “Kaldur, your thoughts?” 

Aqualad steps forward, posture steady. His voice is calm, but full of conviction.

“[Y/N] risked everything to protect us inside that rift. They didn’t run. They led.” His voice holds weight, more than any teenager should carry. “We asked them for trust when they’d just escaped years of captivity. They gave it to us, freely.”

He turns, standing beside you.

“They protected my team. When the world was bending around us, they anchored us. And when faced with freedom, they chose us.”

He looks at the League. Not as a subordinate, but as a leader.

“I vouch for them. As a teammate. And as a commander.”

The League goes quiet.

Batman’s gaze lingers on you, unreadable behind the cowl.

Martian Manhunter still watches you carefully.

But Black Canary gives you the faintest nod. A promise.

Superman finally speaks, voice steady. “Then we give them a chance.”

 Then, Batman again — ever the decider.

“Observation status. No field work unless authorized. No unsupervised missions. You’ll stay here until further notice with Miss Martian, Superboy, and Red Tornado. Canary, you’ll assess psychological stability.” 

Black Canary nods.

Martian Manhunter still watches you like a puzzle. But now… one he’s willing to study, not eliminate.

Superman adds quietly, “We’re trusting you because he does.” He nods to Aqualad. “Don’t make us regret that.”

The meeting begins to dissolve, League members standing, murmuring among themselves. Some are concerned. Some are intrigued.

But none of them forget you.

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Later, as the team regroups, Robin mutters: “That could’ve gone worse.”

You look back toward the room where the League sat in judgment. And for the first time since you escaped Facility 13… you feel the strange pull of belonging starting to take shape.

TO BE CONTINUED...

AN: next chapter I want to get more into team building with the YJ characters and maybe some of the league. also feel free to leave any bit of feedback if u have any suggestions. I also might post on wattpad bc its a bit easier to figure out the story and posts (๑•̀ㅁ•́๑)

[elyslynn]

The Unseen Link

Young justice team x GN! (Meta/Psychic) Reader

AN: This is my first time writing so forgive me if its awful or something LOL. This is just something I kinda thought of on a whim. PLS give me feedback if i should update it or any ways to improve writing ^^ I'm open to feedback and I'd love to start writing more so if you have any ideas pls pls type them

Word count: 1.9k

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My earliest memories aren’t of toys or lullabies — they’re of faces. Ones I have never seen before, but somehow knew. Strangers whose lives played like films behind my eyes. Every time someone entered a room, I knew more than I should’ve: where they’d been, what they’d lost, who they once were.

Your family noticed early. But they weren’t afraid — they were fascinated.

The [L/N] family was old money. Older than the Waynes and Kanes . Where Bruce’s legacy built towers and headlines, your family's legacy was quieter — museum wings, forgotten libraries, old world artifacts, and anonymous charities. You weren’t raised for fame. You were raised for inheritance — of knowledge, of responsibility, and of control.

House [L/N], nestled in the East Gotham Highlands, it is a sprawling Gothic mansion with towering stone spires and hidden passageways, steeped in mystery. Its vast libraries are filled with ancient texts on memory, psychology, and forgotten sciences, while its walls seem to hum with echoes of its long, secretive history. The estate, with its maze of rooms and strange architecture, feels like a living, breathing relic — a monument to a family that thrives in the shadows.

Despite the formality of the estate, your parents loved you. Distant in manner, perhaps, but never cruel. They saw your gift not as a burden but as something to be shaped. Tutors came and went. Psychologists. Researchers. But your favorite people were always the staff.

You still remember Miriam, the old housekeeper who hummed lullabies as she dusted the shelves in the west wing.

She’d been with the family for decades, though you noticed how hollow her smiles had become. One day, she dusted right past you without a word — her aura muted like gray glass.

You reached out. Just touched her hand. 

And for a moment, you felt it — the weight of her grief, the memories she buried of her husband, gone 15 years ago to a war no one remembered anymore. The echo of her husband’s arms around her shoulders — a memory long buried in grayscale. Her joy was packed away with old photos and unloved heirlooms.

You didn’t mean to interfere. But something inside you reacted. Your power reached out and pulled at that thread. Not changing it. Just restoring it. Giving her something to feel again. 

You wove a new memory into her mind: a warm summer day, sitting beside him in a park that may or may not have ever existed. A memory soaked in sunlight and laughter. One that made her hum again — not mechanically, but with life.

She blinked. Looked down at you. And for the first time in years, Miriam smiled like the sun.

That night she sang while cooking, made extra desserts, and told stories of when your father was small — things she’d never shared before.

You didn’t tell anyone what you did. You just felt... right.The warmth of Miriam’s smile lingered long after she left the room, a quiet reminder of the power you held — a power that both soothed and unsettled you.

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 But as the years passed, the weight of your abilities began to feel heavier, the boundaries between others' memories and your own growing ever thinner. It wasn’t long before the visions started to change, darker and more urgent, like a warning you couldn’t outrun.

Then, on that fateful day at Gotham Academy, the first spark of something real ignited — a flicker in your mind, followed by the unmistakable scent of smoke. You felt it before it happened, the growing pressure in the air, the crackling heat behind the walls. It was as if the fire had already claimed the building, and you were only just seeing its shadow.

By the time the alarms blared, you had already begun to move, driven by a feeling that you had to save them — and maybe, just maybe, stop the inevitable from unfolding.

You'd been sensing it all week — a tension in the air. A flickering in your mind. Your dreams kept resetting, looping the same hallway, the same smell of smoke. The same heat.

On the day it happened, you already knew where it would start — behind the science lab’s wall panel. A hidden fault. A delayed trigger.

But no one listens to the kid who hums secrets the world hasn’t told yet. .

So when the fire came, you were already moving. Calm. Focused. You helped your classmates out one by one, ignoring the confusion in their eyes.

You almost made it out too.

But then you heard her.

Leila, the quiet girl from literature class. She was still inside — trapped in the library wing, her leg pinned under a collapsed shelf.

You didn’t hesitate.

The fire was spreading fast, smoke thick as ink, alarms screaming into chaos. You found her. Lifted the shelf. Pulled her out.

“Go!” you told her. “Just run. Don’t look back.”

She listened. You smiled as she vanished through the broken doors, backlit by the firelight.Then the smoke swallowed you. And from within it — hands. Gloved. Silent. Surgical.Your vision blurred. The world tilted. And just like that...You were gone.

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Time since abduction: 2 years

You were thirteen when they took you. Now you are fifteen.

The van was waiting behind the school, just beyond the emergency responders. The fire at Gotham Academy had thrown everything into chaos — smoke, panic, and a perfect distraction. You’d saved a classmate, pulled her from the flames. You were supposed to walk out after her. But instead, you disappeared into smoke and shadow.

They called it "Facility 13." A LexCorp research site long since buried in corporate paperwork. No official oversight. No contact with the outside world. Only locked doors, security drones, and walls that felt like they breathed when you weren’t looking.

Your room wasn’t a cell — not technically. It was clean, furnished, even pretty. But everything was padded in soft grays, and the cameras never stayed off you. 

They ran tests daily. Neural probes. Dream induction. Memory transference. You were hooked up to machines that mapped your thoughts like constellations. They made you relive moments from your childhood, over and over, until they bent into new shapes — simulations of grief, of rage, of joy — watching how far you could stretch reality before it snapped.

You don’t know how many versions of yourself lived and died in those rooms. But they always left a trace — like echoes in a hallway, just out of reach.

Some nights, you could still feel the fire. Hear the screams. See your parents' faces — distorted by memory, faded like old film.

And every time you tried to hold onto a name — your name — it slipped through your fingers like ash.

Then, one day, the dreams changed.

You started seeing them.

They came to you in fragments — a boy forged from steel and silence, a girl with a mind made of stars. A shadow in a mask that moved like a riddle. A spark wrapped in golden speed who outran the world. A prince of pressure and tide, his silence heavier than waves. And a hunter whose arrows never missed, eyes sharp enough to cut through lies.

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With-Young Justice Team 

The anomalies had been growing.

Dreams shared across entire apartment blocks. Children reciting events they hadn’t lived. Pets reacting to people who never entered the room.

“This is more than a psychic flare,” Miss Martian said. “It’s like... someone woke up too fast and left the dream open.”

“Robin, do you have coordinates?” asked Aqualad.

“Yes, a LexCorp facility outside Metropolis. Supposedly shut down five years ago. But I traced a dead satellite relinking to its firewall last year. And some consistent access to the network.”

“So we’re busting ghosts?” said Kid Flash, cracking his knuckles.

Artemis’s eyes narrow, the sharpness in her gaze never wavering. “Or saving someone who never had the chance to fight back.” Artemis muttered.

With the Bioship cloaked. The team dropped fast and quiet.

They moved like a ripple through shadow — disabling guards, slipping past cameras, overriding security doors.

What they didn’t know was that you already knew they were coming.

You had seen them in a dream the night before.

As the team breached the final security checkpoint, the air seemed to thicken, alive with the hum of technology and the heavy sense of something else lingering. Superboy’s muscles tensed, his instincts on edge, feeling like they were being drawn into something much bigger than a standard rescue mission.

Robin scanned the cold, clinical hallway. “This place feels off. It’s like they’ve been hiding something… or someone.”

Robin taps a few keys on the monitor, his eyes narrowing as he processes the information.

“Project Echo... that’s what they’ve been calling you. Located in Cryo-Room 6”

Aqualad nods firmly, his expression steady.

“Alright, team. Let’s head to Cryo-Room 6.”

They reached the door to Cryo-Room 6. The door slid open with a hiss, revealing a stark, sterile chamber, illuminated by faint blue light from flickering screens and suspended, glass-like pods. Inside, you rested in one of them — surrounded by quiet machinery, the soft hum of life-support systems maintaining your slumber.

You were encased in a translucent cylinder, suspended like a relic of the future, while the world around you remained frozen in time. The team stood still for a beat, the weight of the scene settling in.

Aqualad was the first to move, stepping forward cautiously. “This… is where they’ve been keeping them.”

The pod’s console was simple but heavily locked down. Kid Flash practically buzzed with impatience, his fingers itching to get to work. “I’ll get it.”

As Kid Flash manipulated the console, the team exchanged looks, uncertainty and concern filling the space between them. Finally, with a soft hiss, the pod’s glass casing slid open, revealing [Y/N] inside, still and serene, a strange aura of power coiled around their form like a secret waiting to be unlocked.

The moment the pod opened, the atmosphere shifted. The room seemed to breathe with the stirrings of something awakening, the energy thick in the air. Miss Martian’s eyes widened, her hand hovering just above the stranger's face, feeling an invisible bond snap into place.

Robin stepped forward, analyzing the readouts on the nearby screen. “This is unlike anything we’ve seen before.”

Without warning, Aqualad knelt beside the pod. “They’ve been keeping them in stasis… waiting for something.”

“Hello?” Miss Martian steps forward carefully, hands raised. “We’re not here to hurt you. My name is—”

“M’gann,” you interrupt gently, your voice echoing like a soft ripple. “Or Miss Martian, if you prefer. But I remember you better when you smile.”

She stops, stunned.

Kid Flash blinks. “Okay… that’s unsettling.”

You rise slowly. The restraints have already disengaged. Your eyes are ancient. Gentle.

“You all wore different faces last time,” you say. “But your hearts still feel the same.”

Superboy narrows his eyes. “What are you?”

You look at him, a strange fondness in your expression.

Your eyes flicker — not glowing, but remembering.

And then you smile.

“I’m what happens when the world tries to burn you away.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

AN: pls lmk how i did and if i should continue it or if u wanna see like maybe the reader becoming apart of the team/meeting the justice league. Or maybe a relationship with another member on the team