#i said ollies a better parent than bruce and have been fighting for my life ever since

[gretahayes]

Ollie is my schnookums baby girl while bruce is my deranged pet organism who i want to put under a microscope and study

❗️❗️ THIS

[vechter]

for the “top 5” ask game! -> top 5 characters/relationships, top 5 books or quotes, top 5 songs, and top 5 smells :)

omg this is gonna be soooo difficult ily for asking me soooo many <3

characters:

1) dick grayson my absolute fav boy ever. his brand of mental illness and neurotic control-freakism captured my heart n soul unfortunately and i have been unable to be normal about him since (in that, i, too, am like bruce wayne). he learned to walk on sawdust, his first word was rube! he was never going to be a normal, well-adjusted, white picket fence guy. he's a performer, and even those closest to him fall prey to his act. he had the worst imaginable thing happen to him as a kid and one man saved him from that grief eating him alive (could u be normal about ur pseudo-father/brother/mentor figure if he did that for u?) and he will spend the rest of his life making sure the same doesn't happen to anyone else. 2) roy harper my fav dad ever. his daughter saved him from the worst of his impulses. when ollie was dead, he liked to pretend ollie was off on another road trip and then just got mad that ollie left him behind. as usual. his aim is true and so is his heart. he doesn't miss. everything is a weapon in his hand. he loves lian more than anything in the world. he will do right by her. he can't help but love the mother of his child bc where would he be without her? 3) dick grayson and bruce wayne you've seen my web weaves i am not normal about their relationship. they're both changed irretrievably for knowing each other. it isn't always for the better. sometimes, nightwing is the only thing i think i did right. you make a vow to a man like a god when you're a grieving, orphaned kid and you devote yourself to it to a degree it's debilitating. you will never recover from that kind of devotion. dick used to make him laugh. after the fight. you look at your robin, forever your boy, your son and you miss the times when you were the dynamic duo. it's hard to be around each other for that. your father has never let go of anything without leaving claw marks. i could go on and on sadly 4) dick grayson and donna troy you've loved each other your whole lives. you think you were born knowing each other. no one can hurt you or love you the way they seem to. losing donna broke something fundamental in dick. he walked her down the aisle on her wedding day. he loves her in each and every universe because she's donna. platonic, co-dependent, insane. truly the dynamic of all time. 5) cassandra cain. you are your father's daughter. but you are also your mother's daughter. you would choose being perfect for a year over a life-time of being mediocre. you killed a man when you were a child and you will never forgive yourself for it. you will save anyone, even if they don't deserve to be saved. especially, then. some people can't tell where it hurts. they can't stop howling. character of all time truly i stuck to dc for this but honourable mentions to those in other fandoms: shiv roy, succession- she is her father's daughter and it's the worst and best thing to happen to her. her entire world of a father.

clarke griffin, the 100- sometimes there are no bad guys, just good people making bad choices. you save your people, over and over. it's a thankless job. but you do it anyway. you are a doctor and a killer. you know which one you don't want to be.

elena gilbert, the vampire diaries. what price are you willing to pay for those you love? is there a price that is too high? would you even know it? you are a girl monster doppelgänger. your story was always going to end this way.

percy jackson. i imprinted on him as a teenager and he will always have a soft spot in my heart. angry boy with a heart of gold. the sea takes.

sally draper and betty draper, mad men. when sally said "i am so many people" i fear she changed my brain chemistry irrevocably. i will never be normal about her or her dynamic with either of her parents. i'm going to do quotes bc i truly don't think i could pick 5 books. i wouldn't even know where to start but here are some quotes in no particular order:

"Sometimes I see the real God, in a wide-hemmed butcher’s apron, wiping his hands and trembling. It’s your cut, he says. Fry it, eat it raw. I don’t care. My line is too long for these kinds of games. Look behind you. All of those people know what they want.”

— mike young, none of it grace

Sometimes you get so close to someone you end up on the other side of them.

— richard siken

the worst thing about love is i remember it. i walk around all day thinking: i’m going to die in the universe you loved me in. i get so jealous of euthanized dogs.

— june gehringer, i love you, it looks like rain

I am always moving toward you. On my bad days, I say to myself: “then you.” Sure, this now. But then you.

— trista mateer, “laugh lines” in the dogs i have kissed 

So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.

— robert frost, nothing gold can stay

phew. that was way more difficult than i anticipated. there are so many that I think about way too often. top 5 songs is unfortunately impossible for me to do. i avg 150,000 min listening to music on spotify for my wrapped. i spend way too much time listening to music, and even if you asked me to pick based on specific categories like top 5 rap songs, top 5 songs that give you immense nostalgia, top 5 songs with phenomenal lyrics, etc, i would be stunned into immediate mental paralysis i just can't sorry ily

top 5 smells, in no particular order:

the smell of petrol (i knooow but something about how sharp and overpowering it is. it just hits right somewhere), clean sheets (u know when u can smell how crisp and fresh they are? even without a strong-smelling detergent), emblem by mont blanc, daisy by marc jacobs (i am forever lamenting they changed the scent slightly) and the smell of the first rain (i live in a mostly desert-y, arid city now so the way the ground feels and smells after the relief of rain, it's amazing, show-stopping even)

[bigfan-fanfic]

Smile for the Camera (Batdad!Reader Headcanon)

Requested by @yesthetrashbin for Batdad!Reader kidnapped by the Joker for an extended period of time and the fam’s reactions

Beware - the Joker lies ahead. Gosh, that fellow makes me nervous...

AAAH! So sorry, just startled by the sight of my first GIF ever! Thanks for that suggestion, anon!

It wasn’t your fault. You did everything right.

There were guards out the wazoo at that gala. Everyone was on lookout for the Joker

But no one expected a simple-looking, un-makeup-ed man with credentials naming him Joseph Kerr to sneak into the gala and set off a smoke bomb with green-tinged smoke

By the time Batman and the others evacuate, you are missing.

Bruce goes to Gordon immediately, suspecting the Joker.

The Batfamily looks for you, getting the League to help, but even Clark can’t see or hear your voice.

And then a day turns into a week, then a week and a half. And after 264 hours, Tim screams.

He’s been watching his news feed. In a breaking story where Vicki Vale warns the viewers that the video is graphic and disturbing, you are on screen, tied to a chair, semi-conscious

You look horrible. Joker seems to have been torturing you the entire time. Your face is almost unrecognizably cut up and bloody, and your non-dominant hand seems to have been crushed by Harley’s hammer.

“Hell-ooooooo, Gotham! It’s your favorite person here with Y/N Wayne, Gotham’s greatest benefactor. I tip my hat to you, sir!”

Joker does an inane little bow and pats your shoulder. You don’t react. Tim seethes with rage

“But we’re not here to shoot the breeze! Batsy, I know you’re watching. Meet me at midnight precisely, or Gotham City might not be so chummy with you anymore for letting this guy die! Be there, or be square!”

And the feed cuts to black as the Joker digs his hand into one of your wounds and you scream bloody murder.

Bruce

Nothing else matters but you right now.

The public “Bruce Wayne” hasn’t been seen in days, enough time for the tabloids to speculate that he’s been seen meeting with the Bat to try and get you back

Clark writes a piece about a fake but touching interview where Bruce Wayne claims he’s trying to keep the family positive and pleads for the return of his husband

He hasn’t shaved, has barely eaten, and is completely focused on finding you.

He sees the video and figures immediately where the Joker is, but he forces himself into cold calculations - he can’t mess this up, or the Joker will kill you.

He gets everyone he possibly can to help. Diana, Clark, Ollie, Dinah, and Barry all volunteer, with the others taking care of their respective cities while they assist.

When it finally comes time, Barry super-speeds, undoing the traps and binds set on you and getting you to a hospital. The others proceed to make short work of the Joker.

Bruce stays in the hospital with you at all times, constantly holding your good hand, snarling at anyone who dares to ask him to consider moving or leaving

He cries unashamedly when you wake up - he was so afraid of losing you.

He won’t be overprotective afterwards, because he knows that even the greatest level of preparation can’t prevent everything bad, but he does ask you to stay in the Manor for a while, until he feels better about being apart from you.

I said he won’t be overprotective - but

You definitely have multiple trackers on you from now on.

Alfred

He’s been running on pure adrenaline this whole time

His first instinct in a crisis is to tell you how to serve as his second pair of hands, but he turns and remembers you aren’t there

He’s been trying to keep to your routine - making sure Damian and Tim sleep reasonably, keeping the peace between Jason and Bruce, helping Dick cope with life in general

Alfred’s got every hospital in Gotham standing by

He even considers calling in some old favors from his RAF days to have the Joker taken out

You and Bruce are like sons to him

And he no longer has any need for sleep when you are in danger

Afterwards he’s back to business

Although he does give you a warm “It’s good to have you back, sir”

He’s very formal

Because he wants to avoid triggering you with an emotional display

Because Alfred knows that you are the rock of the family, but he’s your rock

And he’ll be damned if you can’t depend on him for that.

If you are ever kidnapped again, he will call in those favors, hang Bruce’s “One Rule.”

Dick

Freaking out. To the point where he is unable to function

Bruce has been in mortal danger before, but the idea of losing you is unthinkable

He’s too distracted to assist in the search, so Bruce benches him.

Instead he’s tasked to look after Jason and Damian

He’s so worried, but he makes sure Damian sleeps

Even once lets the boy sleep in his bed

He makes sure Jason isn’t going to do anything rash

And he is merciless in his cheering-up tactics, taking a page out of your playbook

He constantly reassures them that you will be alright

That you need them to be good while you’re away

And that they will need to be on their best behavior when you get back

He’s so happy when you are saved.

He’s first to the hospital, and like Bruce, he refuses to leave your side.

Develops a bit of separation anxiety. He goes with you everywhere for the next several weeks.

One of the multiple trackers on you is his.

Jason

Filled with rage and fear.

Self-loathing, too. What if you get turned into something else like he did? What if they have to use a Lazarus Pit

He considers it, and he would do it

Anything other than letting you die

Dick keeps a tight watch on him

He knows he has to be a good person even when you aren’t there

He punches and fights hard, definitely maims, but doesn’t kill

Bruce benches him for your rescue

And he doesn’t want to disappoint you, so Jason allows it

He knows that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself killing the Joker.

When you’re back, he won’t know how to act.

He settles for hugging you often and being sarcastic a little less.

He’s just glad you’re safe, and back where you should be.

Tim

Probably handles it the best.

He’s been trawling through the Batcomputer’s data trying to find someplace where the Joker might be able to conceal you long-term

But the Joker doesn’t follow patterns, so this leads nowhere.

Tim basically shuts down his emotional side, focusing instead on cold hard facts, because if he didn’t, he might break

Tim might only show it when running on empty, but he loves and appreciates you as a parent every bit as much as the others. 

There are some truly unhealthy mixes of energy drinks and coffee made during this period. Tim has developed several twitches by the time you are found.

He’s not at the hospital because he’s practically comatose for a week, recovering from what appears to be a caffeine overdose.

Assumes it’s a dream when you’re released from the hospital

Breaks down crying when he learns it’s not, and nearly re-breaks your just-healed ribs hugging you

Is traumatized by the event, and will not leave you alone at a gala for months after.

Damian

Handles it the absolute worst.

He is lost without you there. He throws a massive anger fit, the aftermath of which includes swords embedded in walls with no possibility of removal.

Like Jason, Damian is benched too. Dick is given the job of watching over him, and the two share a moment when Damian allows himself to cry.

He cannot be alone, so he goes with Dick everywhere

When you wished he would act his age, you didn’t think it would be like this

He hasn’t felt this angry at someone since Talia tried to kill you.

He spends the first few days staring at pictures of all the stuff you’ve done together since he came to the Manor

And the next few days he spends watching the news carefully for anything involving the search for you.

He tries to focus by helping Alfred do the necessary chores - laundry, getting food.

He spends a lot of time with his animals, who can sense his pain and try to comfort him.

Trust me, when you get better, you’re gonna need to find him a puppy or some kind of baby animal to make him feel better.

When you wake up in the hospital, he has gone to get water for Dick and Bruce.  He may forever curse the ill timing, since he missed seeing you wake up

Damian will deny this, but he slept in yours and Bruce’s bed for the first few nights after you were cleared from the hospital, just to be sure that you’re still there.

Two of the trackers on you are Damian’s.

[emperorsfoot]

YJ fic. # 2, “Emergence”

Originally posted on FanFiction.Net on 1/6/12

This was a fill for a prompt in the “Young Justice Fandom Challenges” forum. Amazingly, the forum is still active: https://www.fanfiction.net/forum/Young-Justice-Fanfiction-Challenges/86355/

The prompt was to write a fic where Superman wanted to adopt Superboy and Supey was the one to reject him. 

There was some wiggle room for interpretation. 

My summary: “Fathers generally get nine months to get used to the idea. But when the child's already walking, talking and asking for attention, nine months might be to long to wait. -ONE SHOT”

Emergence:

Clark watched Bruce with his new ward. The two worked well together, better than one would have expected a newly orphaned nine-year-old circus boy to work with a still unfamiliar adult and far better than one would have ever expected the Dark Knight to work with… well anyone. Even the teamwork of the World's Finest would be hard-pressed in a comparison.

The Man of Steel hung back as he used his telescopic vision to observe Gotham's hero and his new protégé take down a small-time roof-hopper that Clark didn't recognize. The Batman was fiercely territorial about his city and Superman wasn't looking to step on his toes, he just had to see this for himself. He knew Bruce Wayne had adopted an orphaned circus acrobat a few weeks ago. The young billionaire bachelor and his flavor-of-the-week date for that week had been in attendance as spectators the day of the accident that had killed all but two of the Flying Graysons, leaving the youngest son orphaned and his only surviving uncle to injured to care for himself let alone the nine-year-old boy. That was note-worthy news for the gossip columns. But what brought Clark to Gotham tonight, almost a month since, were the rumors that the Batman was now being seen with a young boy by his side.

It was no surprise to the reporter that Bruce would take in a young boy whom had also witnessed the brutal death of his parents. He probably saw a bit of himself in the boy, felt a sort of comradery through their shared tragedy. But what the Man of Steel found hard to believe was that the Dark Knight would place such a young child in harms way by taking him out on patrols and cases every night. But there they were, a duo that seemed to be developing a very effective dynamic for fighting crime.

He waited until they had dispatched their quarry and finished their circuit of the city and returned to the Batcave. Bruce had just shifted the Batmobile into park and cut the engine when Superman entered the cave.

"I was wondering when you'd finally stop hovering and say 'hi'." The Dark Knight commented dryly as he hopped out of the driver's seat, cape swishing behind him. "Spying doesn't become you."

Before Clark had the chance to respond, he was cut off by the excited exclamation of the Wonder Boy, "Oh wow! You do know him!"

He did a forward flip out of his seat and landed, feet first, on the hood of the Batmobile. A second flip landed him directly in front of the Man of Steel. He beamed up at the famed hero with an almost worshipful grin on his face. But before the boy had the chance to say more, his legal guardian cut him off.

"Don't you have school tomorrow?"

"Right, right." The boy groaned and then was cartwheeling towards the stairs that lead into the mansion proper. Clark waited until the faux grandfather clock had shut firmly before turning his attention back to the Dark Knight.

"I must say, I'm surprised."

"What are you doing here, Clark?"

The Man of Steel suppressed a smile. He might have adopted a son and become a parent, but Batman was still the same blunt and sometimes abrasive Batman. "Honestly, I had to see it for myself. Bruce Wayne adopting a kid I can totally see, Batman taking a kid out on cases is just so out of character and plain irresponsible, to me."

Bruce pulled his cowl off and ran his fingers through sweat matted hair. "Since you're new to the whole spy thing I'm guessing you didn't see that he's more than capable of holding his own on cases."

Clark had noticed that the boy was rather talented, but he was so young and Batman's cases were usually so dangerous… "I just don't see why you'd want to get you're adopted son involved in this part of your life."

Bruce flopped down in the swivel chair in front of his monitors and said with a shrug, "Its our version of father-son quality time."

Clark thought about that for a long time after leaving Gotham. Father-son quality time, huh. If Clark Kent were to ever adopt a child he would never be able to include his hypothetical ward in his… extracurricular activities. Not unless the boy (or girl, he supposed) could also fly, had super-strength, and was invulnerable. His villain gallery may not be as mentally unbalanced or creative as Bruce's but that didn't mean they were any less dangerous. In fact, in many instances, his gallery was much, much more dangerous than the Dark Knight's, he could never in good conscience involve a child in that. If he were ever to have a sidekick or a protégé, they'd have to be a kryptonian like himself, with the same abilities he had. But that was something that would never happen. Kryptonian physiology wasn't compatible with humans'; no matter how much the two races resembled each other, they could not procreate. He would never have any progeny by normal means.

He could never include an adopted son in the 'Superman' part of his life and he could never have a son of his own. Clark supposed he'd never be able to relate to Bruce where that aspect of his life was concerned.

…

Barry was the second member of the League to take on a sidekick. His newly wedded wife, Iris, apparently had a nephew whom was blessed (cursed) with a keenly inquisitive mind and a pre-inclination towards science. He had not only discovered his newly acquired uncle's identity, but also managed to reproduce the experiment (accident) that had given him his super-speed. Now the Flash had a 'Kid Flash' underfoot trying to be a hero like his uncle.

Between bites of pizza and popcorn, Barry would regal anyone willing to listen with tales of his adventures and misadventures with the boy. He would whine and kvetch and complain about his youth and his inexperience, but behind the grousing and grumblings, Clark could hear amusement, affection and even pride in his voice. For all his complaining, Barry was happy to have a partner to help-out with keeping his own little rouge gallery in check.

"There is one good thing about having the Kid around." Flash gave a dramatic sigh, waving his arms wide before slumping his shoulders in defeat. He waited for someone to follow his cue. After a prolonged pause Clark decided to bite.

"Alright, Berry, and what's that?"

"Its good practice!" He answered with a smile. "Ya know, for when Iris and I have little speedsters of our own."

Clark had muttered something non-committal to that, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. He made his excuses to the Flash and exited the mess hall. Barry could have little speedsters; the accident that had given him his powers had not robbed him of his potential to become a parent. But Clark would never have little boy scouts of his own; he wasn't human and so did not have the potential to ever become a parent with a human woman.

…

Ollie had been the next one, another adoption case. Clark had been rather busy with an off-world mission at the time and so didn't get to hear the full story of young Roy Harper from Green Arrow himself. Instead receiving the cliff-notes version from Aquaman upon his return.

"Batman seems to have set a trend." The Atlantian king joked. "What about you, Supes, any plans to become the next 'Justice-daddy'."

"The next what?"

"Its what Berry's started calling the members with sidekicks recently." He shrugged. "I'm not fond of the term, but I must admit that the idea of having a partner on certain missions would be advantageous. So, what about you?"

Clark answered with an uncharacteristically short and sober, "No."

A few months after that had been Aquaman's faithful battle with Ocean Master in which two students of the Academy in Poseidonis aided him; and Orin suddenly got himself a sidekick of his own. Maybe Batman really had set a trend that the rest of the League was slowly following by one means or anther. But it was a trend Clark could never follow himself.

He had long since resigned himself that he would never have any progeny, he also knew that no one born on Earth would be able to keep up with him and his villain gallery. He now began resigning himself to the belief that he would also have no one to pass on all the knowledge Jor-El had left him with. The legacy of Krypton would die with him.

Not for the first time, but the first time in a long time, the full weight of his title hit him. He really was the Last Son of Krypton.

…

Independence Day had been a shock to his system.

Superboy's existence gave him a great deal of food-for-thought. Upon later reflection, the usually-Boy Scout had to decide that his handling of the news and the boy himself had been less than admirable. But personal feelings (on both sides) aside, the boy's existence meant two things to the Man of Steel: first, there were very few places where Cadmus could have gotten a viable sample of his DNA which meant that one (or more) of the people on the short list of those he trusted were compromised, and secondly, grooming the boy as a weapon to destroy him so carefully and concealing his existence from the League so completely implied some greater and deeper plot than their standard run-of-the-mill Big Bad's quest for world domination. Before he claimed any sort of personal responsibility for the boy he had to get those two questions sorted out.

He had told the boy that the League would figure something out for him, and the League had. He was living at Mt. Justice, he was working on a Team under Batman's careful observation, he was surrounded by friends… the boy didn't really need him. Clark pushed the boy out of his mind.

Besides, it wasn't like the Superboy was his son. Superman couldn't have children.

…

Clark had all but forgotten about the boy until August when he showed up in Metropolis to help with a collapsing bridge.

At first he'd been annoyed. The clone's landing had been rough and shook the bridge enough to make the Man of Steel to a double take. He floated up totake hold of the bus that Superboy was trying (and failing) to pull back from plunging nose first into the bay.

"I had that!" The boy snarled at him.

Clark met the hostility with some blunt harshness of his own. "I didn't want to take the chance. As it is, your landing could have destabilized the whole bridge."

"But it didn't!" He argued.

"But it could have." Superman shot back deciding that he didn't have much patience for the boy right now. "As it is, we don't yet know the limits of your powers."

He had expected the boy to snap back with defensive anger, or lash out with an insult or maybe just shout that the Man of Steel didn't know what he was talking about and to take his advice and tell him where he could shove it. Instead, the Superboy gave him the same hopeful but vulnerable expression he's worn back in July.

"Maybe… you could, ya know, help me with that…?" The boy gazed up at him pleadingly.

Clark was assailed by a sudden stabbing of guilt. He hadn't seen the kid since July, hadn't thought of him in two months and when he did think of his clone, it was as the living weapon he'd been created to be, a tool made by a nefarious organization for an ambiguous purpose with no real mind or will of its own. 'He doesn't like to be called an "it".' Kid Flash's words echoed through his head momentarily.

"Batman's got that covered." Clark suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable. He wanted to get away.

Luckily, Green Arrow happened to call just at that moment and he was gifted with an excuse to leave.

Let it never be said that metas were never saved by norms.

…

Perhaps his outburst at the diner had been a bit of an overreaction. But Bruce was pushing. If their rolls had been reversed and it was the Man of Steel pressuring the Dark Knight to take on an unexpected responsibility he'd have punched him in the jaw (there was some question as to with or without his kryptonite ring). So, yes, his public outburst might have been a little unreasonable given the setting, but it wasn't an overreaction. No.

But what had really set him off was not the fact that Bruce was asking him to take responsibility for the boy, but that Bruce had dropped the F-bomb. 'Father'. He had called Clark the boy's father and that was something the Superman had not been prepared to hear. Something he had not been ready to think about. He had lived almost his entire adult life under the belief that he could never and would never have any children of his own. Superman might be many things, but 'father' had never been one of the possibilities. …And now Bruce was implying it was not a possibility but his reality.

Clark lay awake chewing on that little tidbit.

He thought about how much Bruce's life seemed to have improved after he adopted Dick. How he seemed less angry, less hostile, more casual, more comfortable; overall the Dark Knight seemed just generally happier since the boy appeared in his life. Clark had never thought he would have children so he had never given the idea much thought, but now that he actually was thinking about it he began to wonder if another reason why he never gave the idea much attention was because he might have (on some level) been a little jealous. Jealous because Bruce had something that he believed he would never have and he saw how happy it made him.

But then he thought about Oliver and all the grief Roy gave him, not just with their falling-out and the boy's subsequent solo act, but grief over the boy's short heroin addiction a few years prior. Clark saw the strain it put on not only Green Arrow but Black Canary as well.

The decision to adopt the boy as his son and take all the emotional baggage that when with it would not affect solely him; the decision did not rest solely with him. The boy would be Lois' son too, she should have a say in the decision as well.

Clark rolled over and gently shook his wife awake.

"Wha'…?" She slurred drowsily. "Wha's goin' on?"

"Lois," he whispered. "Are you awake?"

"No." She groaned and rolled over… and was back asleep before Superman could say 'Great Scott!'

"Lois…" He gave her another gentle shake and rolled her back over to face him.

She moaned in irritation. "You can do whatever you want to me, just don't wake me up."

"Sweetheart, I want to talk."

"Okay, I'm listening." Her eyes fluttered and then closed and she began to snore. Clark shook her awake for a third time. "Damn it, Clark! What!"

He recoiled at her ire but still asked what he wanted to ask. "Have you… have you ever thought about us having a kid?"

She yawned and ran a hand through her sleep-matted hair. "Why? Are you pregnant?"

"What! No! Why would you even…"

Maybe she was still asleep and this really was a conversation best left until morning. But he had been avoiding the subject of Superboy for so long, he wanted to stop procrastinating. The boy was on his mind right now, there was no guarantee he'd give a care about him in the morning.

"Well, you're an alien, Clark, for all I know on Krypton men could have babies." She stretched and cuddled up close to him.

"No." He said flatly. Then, before the conversation could swing off into a bizarre tangent he said, "Lets start over: Do you remember a couple months back when I told you that the League had found a clone of me?"

"I remember the incident at the bridge today a lot more clearly than I remember you telling me about him."

Clark suppressed a wince. Lois hadn't been anywhere near the Hobb's Bay at the time, but the emergency and his and the boy's response to it had been televised. Thankfully the cameras had been far enough away not to catch their conversation, but their body language had been just as telling. It was a far more accurate summary of their relationship (or lack there of) than the short, 'Lois, the League discovered a clone of me tonight,' he'd given her back in July.

"How would… um, how would you feel if I invited him to live with us?"

She missed one… two… three beats before saying, "Sure. But I think the rest of this conversation is best left for when I'm awake."

Unfortunately they did not discuss the subject of Superboy the following morning. A hurricane drifted unseasonably high up the eastern seaboard and Superman rushed off to offer his assistance in any way he could while Lois rushed off to cover the story. When they finally found a few minuets to once again be alone together, they were wet, dirty and in Lois' case exhausted, certainly in no mood to discuss a new addition to their household. The subject of Superboy went undiscussed for some time after that.

…

In mid-September he and J'onn helped defeat the pair known as the 'Terror Twins' in New Orleans. Bruce, in semi-classical Batman fashion, had a plan to sneak two members of the Team into Belle Reve as undercover operatives. Clark had stood silently in the Cave's briefing room while the Dark Knight explained the mission, but he had really only been partially listening. Seeing Superboy again had reminded him that he and Lois still were yet to discuss the possibility of his coming to live with them.

Standing behind Bruce and trying to stay out of the way, Clark watched the boy's expression shift from the blank stare of a soldier awaiting orders, to sharp attention as Batman began to speak, to fierce determination when he singled the boy out as one of the operatives. The Man of Steel was quickly reminded that, while he resembled a sullen teenager and Bruce insisted the boy was his 'son', he was actually a living weapon, a weapon created to kill him. Did he really want to bring something like that into his home? Expose it to his family?

He did not speak with the boy at all either after the briefing nor at any point during their brief jaunt in New Orleans. After he'd neutralized Terror and sent him and his sister plummeting towards the 'switch-point' he had prepared to leave. His portion of the mission was over; Bruce could handle everything from there. Before flying away his super-human hearing couldn't help but pick-up a brief exchange of dialogue.

"But I don just gone toe-to-toe wit' Superman!" That would be Tommy Terror, his grammatically challenged southern drawl was rather distinctive. What surprised Clark was the person who answered him and their reply.

"Congratulations. That's more quality time than he's ever given me."

Clark recognized that voice, it was his own voice only two decades younger, it was Superboy. The boy wanted to spend 'quality time' with him? Why? They'd only ever been in the same room together a handful of times; they'd only ever spoken to each other twice. What reason could the boy have to expect any sort of 'quality time' from him?

He remembered the pleading gaze the boy had given him back in Metropolis the previous month. It wasn't that the boy expected anything from him, but he did want certain things from him. Namely, just some of his time. He might be a living weapon, he might have been created to kill and replace the Man of Steel, he might be just a clone, but he was still also just a boy and like all boys, he wanted the time and attention of a parent. Bruce had called him the boy's 'father'; did the boy view him in the same way? Was that the boy's only interest in him?

The kid might be a weapon, but what was a weapon but a tool? And what were the merits of a tool but the way it was used? 'He doesn't like to be called an "it".' Kid Flash's words once again echoed through his mind. If he didn't like being called an 'it' he probably wouldn't appreciate being compared to weapons and tools either.

Clark sighed. Bruce thought that him claiming the boy was what was best for him, but was that really what was best for the kid? Would it really be healthy to have the boy live with a person whom still viewed him, not as a fully formed individual, but rather a boy-shaped tool? A weapon that could be turned against the hand the wielded it just as easily as any other. If it was just him, he wouldn't have to think so hard about it, he could take care of himself, but would he be putting Lois in danger by inviting the boy into their home? Or, would he be avoiding danger by reaching his hand out to the boy and offering him the guidance and 'quality time' he seemed to crave so much?

He chewed on that question for a while, too.

…

"Lois, c'mon we're gonna be late." Clark paced the living room of their apartment with impatience. While their two year anniversary had actually been two weeks prior, this was the first night that both of them had actually managed to find the time to celebrate and he wanted to celebrate before some cookie-cutter baddie decided it was a nice night to try to take over the world.

"Oh, you actually made reservations somewhere?" His blushing bride emerged from the bathroom looking radiant in a blue silk gown with yellow trim. It hugged her figure, showing off the delicious curve of her hips to their best advantage while still concealing their creamy flesh to his eyes (well, to a normal man's eyes, if Clark wanted to see her creamy flesh all he had to do was…). She threw her arms around him and waggled a finger in his face. "Ah, ah, ah. There'll be none of that, you naughty boy."

"Lois, I'm insulted that you think I'd be so lewd as to-"

"Uh-huh." She crossed her arms over her chest, the action pressing her breast together in a way that was thoroughly pleasing to look upon. "So, what are we gonna do?"

Clark helped her into a heavy coat before handing her her purse and lifting her up, carrying her bridal-style to the window. "I was thinking we'd do a little dancing." He said. "Maybe make a little love… generally just get down tonight."

She gave a snort. "Smallville, you are probably the corniest person I know."

He waited to see if she would follow that up with a crack about corn farming in Kansas but she did not. Instead she changed the subject.

"But I meant, what are we gonna do about the Superboy?"

His happy-playful mood deflated at the mention of the boy and he backed them away from the window and put her down. "Lois, its our anniversary, do we have to talk about this now?"

"Its just that its been a couple months since you last mentioned anything about him." She said. "The last time we talked about him, you woke me up in the middle of the night to ask if he could live with us, you haven't mentioned him since. I would kinda like to know what's going on…"

"But do we have to talk about him tonight?"

"No, I suppose we don't." She admitted. It was hard enough finding time when the two of them could spend a romantic evening together. She didn't want to spoil it any more than he did, but his lack of mention about the clone had begun to bother her. "Just know that I haven't forgotten and I expect to have that talk some time soonish."

"Yes, dear."

…

It would be late November before the subject of Superboy came up again in the Kent household.

Lois and Clark had flown to Kansas to spend Thanksgiving with Martha on the Kent Farm. They sat around the table laughing and joking about the latest antics of the Smallville townsfolk, the misadventures of the Daily Planet in Metropolis and the latest exploits of the Superman. It was a perfect evening; the only thing that would make it more perfect was if Jonathan Kent were still alive to share it.

…But then Ma shattered the mood with the kind of calm command that only a mother could wield.

"I've been thinking." She said, folding her hands daintily in her lap. "You should convert the guest room in your apartment into a bedroom for the boy."

"What boy?" Clark had blinked in confusion only to realize what his mother must be talking about all to late.

"Lois and I have been talking, Clark." Neither her voice nor her posture changed, there was no outward indication that she was suddenly mad, but the Man of Steel had lived with his mother long enough to know when he had upset her. Forgetting about the boy had been his second mistake, but thinking that his wife wouldn't discuss a possible addition to the family with his mother had been his first (and bigger) mistake. "She told me that you mentioned an interest in taking in the Superboy I've been hearing so little about recently. I want to know why you haven't yet."

"I've been… thinking about it…" He answered her lamely.

"Well, its time to stop thinking and start doing." Martha Kent's eyes narrowed at her son. "You'll start by making a space livable for him, a teenage boy needs a room that's all his own. The next time Lucy or the General come by for an extended visit, I'm sure they can make do with your couch. You will invite the boy to live with you and you will make darn sure he feels welcomed, Clark, like he belongs. When he's settled, you'll bring him here for a visit. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, Ma."

…

In between chasing stories as Clark Kent, saving the planet as Superman and one very awkward Christmas dinner with the Lanes, the Man of Steel found himself spending his free time going through, rearranging and moving things out of the guest bedroom. He and Lois had been using it as a sort of home office-slash-storage room for evidence they might have collected on their cases, copies of old articles, photos (both personal and work related), etc.

Clark had been willing to shred or burn most of it, but Lois refused to destroy a single page. And so he had spent almost all of December and the first week of January flying copy-boxes from their apartment in Metropolis to either the Kent farm to be stored in the attic or the Fortress of Solitude to be copied into his archives at a later date. When that was done, Lois put him to work rearranging the furniture a bit.

The second bookcase had to be taken out; it took up to much space and made the room feel cramped. Lois made him move it into the living room and then stood back and gave orders as to how the rest of the living room furniture was to be rearranged due to the addition of the new piece. Clark spent two obnoxiously long hours doing that, it would have been longer, but to his unexpected relief, Intergang decided to rob the Federal Exchange with a tank, and that sounded like a job for Superman! Their adventures in moving would have to wait a bit.

When Clark returned later that evening it was to find that Lois had acquired a new dresser for the boy. (Because, apparently, she felt a closet wasn't enough.) The movers had left the solid wood chest of drawers in the middle of the living room floor and guess who she asked to move it into the bedroom for her. They then repeated the furniture dance for the bedroom just as they had the living room until Lois was satisfied with the arrangement and thought the boy would be likewise satisfied.

The desk stayed. She said the boy would need a place to put his computer and when Clark asked why couldn't he just put it in the living room where they had moved theirs she told him that she didn't want the boy doing what teenage boys usually did with their computers in the living room. At that Clark had politely blushed and dropped the subject.

…

It was towards the end of January and the boy's room was all ready.

Clark stood back and surveyed the room that he had made for his clone, the boy that Bruce kept insisting was his 'son'. For a moment the farm-grown alien hero had the insane idea that this must be what it was like for normal expecting fathers when making up a nursery for their child. He squished that thought back down very quickly, however. He was not an expecting father, Superboy was not his son, this room was not a nursery. He was asking the boy to move in with them, he wasn't yet ready to officially adopt him like Bruce had adopted Dick or Oliver had adopted Roy. And he certainly wasn't ready to start calling the boy 'son'.

Still, the boy was going to move in. All that was left was to actually speak with Superboy about the prospect. But once again, Clark found himself hesitant.

Lois entered behind him, her arms encircling his waist. "Are you excited?"

'Excited' was not the right word. 'Nervous' was more accurate.

…

Superman did not go strait to Mount Justice. Instead he flew to Gotham, he wanted to talk to the original 'Justice-daddy', he wanted to revisit their conversation from Bibbo's back in August.

The Dark Knight was reclining in his swivel chair, watching his monitors, his black booted feet resting up on the consol, his cowl down, a bowl of cereal in his hands. He seemed so casual and laid-back. Four years ago Clark never would have imagined he'd walk into the Batcave one day and find Gotham's Hero with his feet up enjoying a bowl of… what was that, Apple Jacks? Fruit Loops? All the brightly colored ones looked the same.

"Something wrong with your JLA comm. or did your farm-boy upbringing never teach you to call before dropping by uninvited?"

"I was kinda hopping we could talk." He cast his eyes about for the Boy Wonder and found him nowhere in sight. "Where's Robin?"

"School." Bruce answered flatly.

Right… that was another thing Clark would have to think about. Superboy was still a minor and would need to receive some version of schooling. With his powers it would be a little to dangerous for him to attend public school with other children, he ran the risk of easily hurting or even killing another student. But he and Lois lead such busy lives, neither of them would have the time to home-school the boy. He supposed they could hire a tutor, but on reporters' salaries they'd have to tighten their belts and budget carefully. Good educations didn't come cheap and unlike Bruce he wasn't made of money.

How was the Dark Knight handling the boy's schooling? Someone as careful and paranoid as Batman would never allow a civilian tutor to come to the boy at Mt. Justice. Was he having different Leaguers teach the boy different subjects, maybe?

"Listen… I, uh, I want to talk about Superboy."

Bruce set his bowl of cereal aside, lowered his feet down from the consol and turned his chair to face the Man of Steel. He folded his hands and waited for Clark to continue.

"I, uh, Lois and I were thinking… um…" Not for the first time the Superman found himself at a loss as to what to say on the subject of the Superboy. Perhaps it was because he himself hadn't quite yet sorted out his thoughts and feelings about the boy. He was firm in his decision to take the boy in, but that didn't mean he was sure of his view of the boy. Recently, he had been imagining him as a lost relation of his that had somehow managed to find him from across the cosmos. It was a nice fantasy, but Clark knew it wasn't true. But it was also the best explanation for how his perceptions of the boy were changing and how that change was starting to make him feel. "How's Superboy been doing?"

Bruce raised one quizzical eyebrow at the Man of Steel. "Lois wants to know this?"

"Well, no." Clark fidgeted under the Dark Knight's questioning gaze. "I was just wondering how he's doing… and stuff." 'Great, real eloquent, Kent!' "Its, um, its been a while since he and I last spoke… I just wanted to touch base and see if he's adjusting alright…"

It had been almost six months since the Man of Steel actually exchanged words with the Superboy and they both knew it. Bruce's eyes narrowed suspiciously at his sudden interest in the boy he'd been ignoring for almost half a year.

"Also…" Clark continued with increasing unease. He hated it when Bruce gave him that look. It was the same look he'd often seen the Knight give criminals from his gallery during interrogations, it made Clark feel as if he were being given the third degree when he was the one to come to Batman, not the other way around. "Also, I was wondering if you still wanted me to take the boy. Lois and I… we've made up a room for him and… and well, I… I, uh, I can take the boy for you."

Those narrowed eyes and questioning gaze did not change, but Clark could detect the slightest bit of surprise from the man. It was subtle, a slight shift in posture, he probably only detected it because of his superior senses and the fact they they'd been friends for so long. He had managed to shock the World's Greatest Detective! Great Scott!

"Do you want to take the boy in?"

Clark paused to consider his answer. The boy had been a great shock to him at first and that had been his reason for not claiming responsibility for him in the first place. Then, after the shock had worn off he had viewed the boy as a possible danger, he had been created to kill the Man of Steel and so would have no problems harming or killing his wife or mother. It had been for their protection that he'd continued to refuse to take the boy. But at the bridge he had seen, not a living weapon, but a lost and lonely child reaching out to him for guidance.

That had altered his perceptions of the boy greatly. It had also heaped onto him a great deal of guilt. And because of that guilt he became afraid of facing the boy for a different reason. That guilt had latter been compounded in New Orleans when he'd heard the boy's comment about 'quality time'. The boy wanted him, needed him and for the first time in his life, the Man of Steel, the Boy Scout, the Superman had turned his back on someone in need. Clark had spent four months chewing on that realization and come to the conclusion that he'd behaved in a despicable manner. The boy was blood of his blood. Even since he learned that he had been adopted, Clark had wished to find another living blood-relative of his, the boy wasn't a blood-relative in the conventional sense, but there was no denying that they were, indeed, related.

"Yes." He said at length. "Yes, I want to take the boy."

This time the Dark Knight's surprise did show on his face and Clark found the image of a shock-faced Batman sans his mask a little disturbing. The World's Greatest Detective wasn't supposed to be taken by surprise, especially not twice in one conversation. It took the man some time to find his voice again.

When he did, the Dark Knight said, "You've missed allot."

And so, they spent the next few hours going over the mission reports for the last six months. Bruce noting things of importance while Clark nodded his recognition. He was a little ashamed that the job of naming the boy had fallen on the Martians, naming a boy was supposed to be his father's job and Clark hadn't bothered to- Hold on a minuet! The Man of Steel brought his train of thought to a screeching halt. He was not the boy's father! He reminded himself firmly. He was taking responsibility for a clone he hadn't known about, not an illegitimate son he hadn't known about. Big difference! He was willing to admit to the boy being related to him, it would be difficult to deny anyway. He was taking the boy into his home and integrating him into his household. He would guide and support the boy as he grew into his powers. But he was not the boy's father.

He hoped none of his sudden internal turmoil showed on his face. Thinking the F-bomb in his head was one thing, but he didn't want to hear it from Bruce a second time.

Then they got to the botched training simulation, the psychic no-win scenario, and Clark halted his friend's narrative with an exclamation of, "Why didn't you tell me!"

The quizzical look was back on the Dark Knight's face and the Man of Steel regretted his strong emotional outburst.

"The situation had been dealt with before the day was even over." He explained. "There didn't seem to be any reason to worry the other mentors or parents over it. After they woke up, their families and mentors were briefed on what happened so they could look for and recognize any lasting effects."

"But why wasn't I told?"

"Honestly? After our conversation at Bebbo's, I didn't think you'd care." The Dark Knight answered flatly.

"His coma could have been permanent!"

"I was aware of that." Bruce raised an eyebrow. "I still didn't think you'd care."

"What kind of monster do you think I am?" Clark had no idea why he felt so strongly about this. It had happened back in October, the boy was obviously fine. There was no reason to get so worked up. "Of course I would care! He's my- !"

For a second time in the conversation Clark found himself slamming the breaks on his train of thought. His speech abruptly cutting off before the particular word that had almost escaped his lips.

" –clone." He finished lamely. "He's my clone."

…

When he returned home that evening Clark gave the boy's room another critical look. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe.

Maybe this was how normal expecting fathers felt; nervous, apprehensive, wary, unsure –overall conflicted. Maybe, somewhere between his conversation with Bruce at the diner and today he had come to view himself as the boy's 'father'. He had always known that he'd never have any children though normal means, but the boy –Conner- hadn't come into the world through 'normal means'. Perhaps a clone was the closest thing to a son he'd ever have, and perhaps on some level he recognized that fact early on. It had just taken his conscious mind a bit more time to catch up.

And Conner was already mostly grown. He could take care of himself in a fight. Clark wouldn't need to worry about the boy being in danger if (when?) he took him out with him as a sidekick. The Man of Steel smiled to the empty room. He'd also always said that if he were to ever have a sidekick it would have to be another kryptonian, someone with the same powers he had (or in the boy's case, someone who'll develop the same powers he has). It all seemed so clear and simple now. Like some missing pieces of a puzzle had been found and put in place. All was suddenly right with the world. He may not be the boy's 'father' in the conventional sense of the word, but since when was he a conventional person? Since when was his family ever a conventional family?

Behind him, Clark heard the door to their apartment open and the lights flicked on. He turned to find Lois in the doorway juggling groceries and he rushed forward to help her.

"Thanks." She smiled as she passed custody of the bags over to him and took off her coat. She scanned the apartment with her reporter's critical eye. "I can't help but notice that Superboy still isn't here."

"Conner." Clark corrected her. She looked at him in confusion. "Superboy's name, its Conner, Conner Kent."

"I see." It figured he'd end up with the same initials as Clark. "And where is the young Mr. Kent?"

Here Clark turned shamefaced. "Still in JLA custody. I haven't spoken with him yet."

Lois crossed her arm over her chest, planted her feet and dropped one him in a pose that Clark recognized as her 'annoyed' stance. "Well, you better step on it, Smallville." She said. "He might not be willing to wait around for you forever."

"I know." He replied soberly. "I already missed my chance at naming him."

"His civilian name, yeah, you really dropped the ball on that one." She agreed. Oh, Lois, you were so empathetic sometimes you could apply for Sainthood. "But I doubt anyone in your League would have given him a kryptonian name."

That perked him up. "Lois, you are beautiful!"

She smiled a sultry smile and crossed the small distance between them to press her body against his. "Hm, flattery will get you everywhere."

…

Clark spent the first week of February sifting through kryptonian boys names. He had narrowed his choices down to three, Jor-El III, Kon-El and Erok-El. Jor-El in honor of his father and grandfather, Erok-El after his ancestor, the first Bethgar of Urrika and Kon-El just because he liked the sound of it. Clark had written his final three choices out in Kryptonese to see how they looked aesthetically, hoping to break the three-way tie between them. He sat in the Watchtower's mess hall, tapping his Daily Planet pen on the stainless steel table in thought.

"Hey, Supes, what'cha' doing?" The Flash plunked his tray laden with food down next to the Man of Steel. "Some kryptonian word game or something?"

"No." Clark shook his head and allowed a tentative smile to creep onto his lips when he explained, "I'm trying to decide on a kryptonian name for Superboy."

Berry paused in his meal to stare shock-faced at the Superman. "For Conner?" He gaped. "Are you and he speaking now?"

"Well, no…" Clark had to admit. "But I will soon. Lois and I are gonna take the boy in and I just thought it might be nice to have a name for him, to show the boy that I'm serious."

"I… see…" The Flash fidgeted, suddenly very awkward. "Supes, um, a bit of advice from a 'Justice-daddy', you shouldn't take so long when dealing with children. They're young and impressionable and impatient. Its better to do things sooner rather than latter. Otherwise they'll decide that they can't depend on you."

"I understand that." Clark assured him. "I just needed some time to get my own feelings sorted out. I'm going to see Conner soon."

Berry patted Clark's red-caped shoulder with something the Man of Steel would have sworn was preemptive sympathy. "Good luck, Big Guy."

…

'Soon' for the Man of Steel turned out to me the first week in March. Shortly after he and Lois had celebrated Valentines Day there had been a call for some off-world aid and that sounded like a job for Superman. Clark had been gone two weeks, returning just in time for the months to change. He was frustrated with all the delays, but now finally seemed to have found the time and opportunity to speak with Conner.

It had been nine months since Independence Day.

…

Conner leaned most of his weight on Kaldur as he limped down the boarding ramp of M'gann's bio-ship. To spite a twisted ankle, an injury of his own making, the Boy of Slightly-Less-Durable-Than-Steel (apparently) couldn't help but grin with satisfaction.

"Best. Mission. Ever!" He declared. Then paused when he saw who was waiting in the hangar with Red Tornado. What was he doing here?

"Dude, are you mental?" Kid Flash zipped out of the ship only to skid to a halt in front of their unexpected visitor. "Whoa! You're not Batman!"

Well spotted, Wallace. Clark shook his head at Berry's nephew before turning his full attention to Superboy –his clone, Conner –his son. "How did you injure your foot?"

Conner glared at the Man of Steel with eyes full of distrust and guarded emotion. He missed, one… two… three beats before saying, "Its nothing for you to worry about." He lifted his arm from where he'd slung it over Aqualad's shoulders and limped over to Tornado. "Is Batman in the briefing room?"

The android gave his affirmative and the Boy of Steel began to limp out of the hangar. Miss Martian followed after him, insisting that they put some ice on it before Batman debriefed them. One by one the teens filed out of the hangar, each giving him a questioning or even suspicious look at they passed the Superman. Robin was the only one to stop and speak with him.

"His super-speed kicked-in in the middle of the mission." He said.

"That's great." Clark nodded. "That'll be one of the first things I'll work with him on."

Dick opened his mouth to speak. Thought better about it then closed it again. There was a prolonged pause, then the Boy Wonder said, "Wait until after the debriefing."

…

Clark did not attend Bruce's debriefing of the Team. He waited patiently outside for them to finish, leaning against the wall, his eyes focused on the lead-lined, sound proof, door of the briefing room. Ah, Bruce, your paranoia would be amusing if it weren't so damnably frustrating.

From the floor below in the hangar, Clark heard the computer register Black Carany's arrival on the base and sure enough, the blond bombshell appeared in the hall with him a few moments later.

"Hello, Dinah." The Man of Steel offered her a friendly smile.

"Clark?" She all but froze in surprise at seeing him in the Cave. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to pick up Conner." He said as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and he had to marvel at just how natural it felt to him. He felt an almost nervous pride whenever he mentioned the boy by name nowadays. Was this how normal fathers felt?

"Oh, I… I, uh, didn't know you two were speaking now." Dinah said awkwardly, suddenly avoiding eye contact with the Man of Steel.

"Well, we're not really." Clark admitted. "But I'm going to change that."

"That's… nice…" The fem fatal fidgeted, uncomfortable.

She was quickly saved from the awkward moment, however, when the door to the briefing room slid open, the meeting over. Upon seeing her, Conner rushed out, hopping on his good leg.

"Canary!" He beamed and threw his arms around her in an affectionate hug. "Guess what!"

"You're practicing for a hop-scotch tournament." She guessed in reference to his hopping on one foot.

Clark stood and gaped at the pair.

"I got super-speed!" The boy announced. "Do you know what that means!"

"That we've exchanged a bending forks and breaking glasses problem for a running into walls and melting shoes problem."

"No." The boy shook his head. "It means I'm not flawed!"

"That's great, Conner!" She stroked the boy's hair with motherly affection and then cast an apologetic smile to Clark from over the boy's head.

The others gave the three awkward glances as they filed out of the briefing room on their separate ways, all trying to escape their notice and avoid becoming involved in what would undoubtedly become a train wreck. Batman was last to exit. He look one look at Clark, glaring jealously at another mentor embracing his son with maternal warmth.

"Room's free." He said and stood back for the three of them.

"What for?" Conner blinked in confusion.

Dinah offered him a strained smile. "Conner, Superman has an offer for you."

The boy glanced between them, the guarded suspicion back in his eyes.

Bruce took that as his cue to leave, the Dark Knight slipping away with the slightest notice, as was his fashion, leaving the trio alone in the hall. They ignored the empty open room, Clark diving right into the conversation.

"Conner, I'd like you to come live with me." He said.

He had hoped that the declaration would melt some of the guarded suspicion from the boy's eyes, instead it only intensified the expression. He took a step back from the Man of Steel and asked, "Why?"

Clark supposed he deserved that, his distrust. He had been missing in action in regards to the boy almost since his first appearance nine months ago. He was ashamed of his behavior and sorry that it had taken him this long to get his feelings sorted out, but he was here now. He was reaching his hand out to the boy, ready and willing and wanting to give the boy the guidance and attention he's asked for back in August.

"Well, it would be a heck of a lot easier for you to be my sidekick if you're also in Metropolis."

Silence followed that statement.

Dinah placed her hands on Conner's shoulders, a silent statement that she would support him in whatever decision he made. Clark's eyes focused on the action and he couldn't help but feel a sudden stab of territorialism that was not in his usual character.

"And…" He added, now glaring a challenge at Black Canary. "I also wanted to give you a kryptonian name and officially adopt you into the House of El." A pause. "Conner, I want you to be my son."

More silence.

Then Dinah patted Conner on the shoulder and took a step back, ceding to Clark. "I'll leave you to alone."

The boy turned, a silent protest on his lips but he said nothing. Turning back to Superman, he glared up at the man whom looked so much like himself only two decades older. The Man of Steel expected an answer.

The silence dragged on.

"Conner?" Superman finally ventured.

"Don't." The boy said at last. "Don't call me by my Earth name. I'm sure you learned it from Batman, but I haven't given you permission."

Clark paused, thought, began again. "Last summer you asked me to help you figure out your powers. I'm ready to do that now."

"Batman's got that covered." The boy said, throwing his own words back at him, verbatim.

"Conner, I-"

"Stop. I've already asked you not to use my name once. If it happens again I'll report you to Batman for harassment. That is the word applied to the action of continuing an unwelcome behavior after being asked to stop."

Clark paused.

Superboy crossed his arms over his chest. "There's an old axiom Green Arrow told me not to long ago, 'if you give a man a fish, he'll eat for a night; teach a man to fish and he'll never starve', as a companion to that one, Aqualad also told me that people either 'sink or swim'. Both are metaphors for coping with trials in life. After you rejected me last summer I was forced to 'sink or swim', I chose to swim and I learned how to fish. I don't need you anymore, Superman and, frankly, I'm not really sure I want a person like you close to me."

Clark was shocked speechless.

"If there's nothing else, you can go now."

The boy turned to leave.

Clark found his voice again. "Don't… don't you at least want to know your kryptonian name?"

The boy paused but he did not turn to face the Man of Steel. "No, I don't."

He left.

…

END

[bisexualfelicity]

Five Lives (1/10)

Summary: Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak live their own lives without ever meeting each other. The universe tries to fix this with a bit of time traveling.

Loosely inspired on the book Replay by Ken Grimwood.

Rating: M

Words:  1846

I’d like to thank @blackcanarydinah for being my beta, @myshipperlife for the artwork and @yellowflicker09011996 for being supportive. 

Written for the @olicityficbang

Read on AO3 or under the cut! 

The First Life

December 31st, 2020.

“Happy new year, Ollie!” Says the girl on the other side of the phone, the buzz in her voice clear even through all the noises from the background.

“There’s still a few more hours for me here, Speedy” he answers, deciding not to voice his worry again, Oliver knows very well this was a lost cause, “Any chance I’ll see you next year? It’s been too long since you’ve been in Star City”.

“You know 2020 was a difficult year for all of us, Ollie, it’s easier if you come here. There’s nothing left in Star City for us anyway,” she says in a sigh, clearly not interested in talking about that. “Listen, I have a party to go back to. Call me if you decide to visit”.

“Thea...”, he starts but she has already hung up, ending the conversation as quickly as all the last ones.

Oliver just closes his eyes, turning off his phone. He knows he won’t receive any other call today, he’s lucky enough his sister remembered him as it is. It’s been over four years since Thea moved to the East Coast and he can count on the fingers of one hand how many times he has seen her since and all of them ended up in fights, about how much she’s drinking, about what she’s doing with her life. Not that he blames Thea, he’s not the best example either, and leaving the city might have been the best for her. She was right when she said there wasn’t anything left in Star City.

Nothing but destruction and death.

He dresses in his suit, putting the hood once more. He’s the last vigilante of Star City, the only one remaining after Wild Dog disappeared a few months back, like so many others before him. Oliver only knew Rene from their night job, they had only teamed up a couple times, but he still felt his absence in the streets of the city.

It’s better like this anyway, Star City is his responsibility. He tried working with a team and what happened? Betrayals and deaths, that’s what. He patrols the city every night, but he knows there’s no point to it anymore, the city is a mess. The police are corrupted, has been for so many years that no one even tries to deny it anymore, no mayor or type of government has even lasted for over a year, the only people who didn’t immediately fled the city after the last disaster were the ones who didn’t have anywhere else to go, and this number is getting slower every day.

He wonders how different things could’ve turned out to be. If he had never been on that boat… If he had been able to stop Malcolm or Slade or Darhk... Tommy, Laurel, Quentin, Roy and his parents might all still be alive, happy, living their life like they were supposed to. Thea wouldn’t have gone away, living party after party to forget what she went through. Even Sara might have stayed around that time, instead of doing whatever she was doing these days.

Maybe John would still be his friend. Oliver looks at his phone, wonders if Diggle would even answer if he called, if all those years were enough to forgive him… Oliver is never going to find out, Diggle is better off without him in his life, living with his wife and kids away from all of that. At least he and Lyla are alive, that’s more than he can say about most of people whose lives he touched.

Oliver is the only one who stayed, now he’s having some difficulty remembering why. For the last eight years, he’s tried to save the city, he’s dressed up and put arrows in how many people were necessary to make it safe and, every year, a new threat emerged and he was unable to stop it. Maybe he wasn’t their savior, but their doom, somehow attracting all the chaos to everyone’s life.

He looks down to his watch, noticing it’s midnight. He’s in the top of a building, in the center of the city, the only place where there’s still people living, but there’s no celebration to be heard. The habitants of Star City have no reason to celebrate a new year arriving, Oliver included.

Oliver runs all the way through what’s left of the city, it’s even more dead than he has even seen. There’s nothing left for him here. There’s nothing left of him either.

 ~~

 Felicity is laughing when she opens the door to her apartment, it isn’t a full-on laughter, but the alcohol helps. It’s a little over two a.m., too soon to come over from a new year’s party, but Mike insisted on coming home early and, to be honest, Felicity didn’t complain much. Wayne’s party were always more fancy than fun, and most of them were interested in talking business.

“Now the real party can start,” she says to Mike, grinning while she drops her coat in the couch and walked in his direction. Mike just smiles and pulls her closer by the hand, kissing her.

“It’s January 1st,” he states, forehead pressed with hers; Felicity just hums in response, “It’s been two years since we started dating.”

They had been sleeping together for a while before that, but it was only after the year changed that Mike had the courage to ask her to make things official.

“Yes, then let’s celebrate,” Felicity answers, starting her way through opening his shirt when his hands stop her. “What’s wrong, hon?”

“Nothing. You’re perfect”, Mike says, his eyes bright as ever, “I love you so much, Felicity”, he steps back, making her frown, “I’ve been thinking of that for so long and… I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” before she can react, he’s off to the couch, searching for something in his coat.

“Mike…,” she starts, but it’s too late, he’s already kneeling in front of her, a small box in his hands.

“Felicity Smoak, will you marry me?”

For someone who talks as much as her, she finds herself with a great lack of words at this time. Felicity is paralyzed. Saying she didn’t see this coming would’ve been a lie, she wasn’t oblivious to Mike’s heart eyes and he wasn’t exactly great at secrets either, but didn’t think he would ask her now, in the middle of the night, after a party. She didn’t have enough time to think of what she’d answer.

“Felicity? If this is too soon, I can wait, I’m not trying to pressure you… You can just pretend I’ve never said anything,” Mike is already up again, stumbling to hide the ring in his coat again, his face red with shame.

Mike is one of the nicest guys of Gotham, he’s an engineer in Wayne Enterprises, they met each other when she was promoted from IT to the Science department over five years ago, and they’ve been together for two of those years. He’s nerdy, cute and not awful in bed… And she’s absolutely not in love with him.

She wishes she was. She tried to, pretended to be. But there’s no denying it for herself, she’s not and has never been in love with Mike. When she got out of MIT and moved to Gotham, she just wanted to live a simple life. After all that happened with Cooper, she just wanted a quiet life… She can have that with Mike.

She’s not hiding herself in IT anymore, she’s got a nice job, it’s not the highest paying at the company, but Bruce Wayne knows who she is and most of her coworkers are admired by her skills. She has fun at work and, when she gets too bored, she hacks for fun, staying away from anything too illegal.

Felicity can marry Mike. They would have pretty children, they could move to a bigger apartment. They would work together in projects, pick their kids at day-care at Wayne Enterprises at the end of day, catch up on TV shows and then sleep at night. She could be happy.

But she wouldn’t be fulfilled.

“I’m so sorry, Mike,” she says finally, knowing there’s no way out of that, “I can’t do this.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, really, you’re not ready, I get it…” Mike laughs in a nervous way, trying to put his hands in the pants’ pockets but somehow failing to get it right.

“It’s not that,” she interrupts, “You’re amazing, Mike, but I’ll never be ready”.

“We don’t need to get married!”

“Stop,” she sighs, “It’s not going to work, Mike, I’m sorry but we should break up.”

That finally makes Mike stop talking, he doesn’t have anything to say to that, the embarrassment is giving place to hurt and Felicity can see that in his eyes. She knows Mike too well to know the tears will start soon, she doesn’t want to be there to see it, she already feels really bad as it is.

“I’m really sorry,” she says again, “I’ll find somewhere else to sleep today, okay?”

Felicity is out of the door even before he can process what she’s said. She doesn’t have anywhere to go, she can get a cab and try to find a hotel with a room available, but instead she just walks around the streets. It’s the first day of 2021 and she broke up with her boyfriend.

Her boyfriend, who she works with and will have to see again every day, unless one of them change jobs. She broke his heart, she should be the one to change. It’s not like it’s her dream job anyway…

She’s going to be 32, single and without a job. What does she have going on with her life? Something is clearly missing and maybe she’ll never find out what.

 ~~

 The sun rises in the west coast of the United States, the first of the year. Oliver watches it from the top of a random building, there’s no crime happening, his bow is resting on the floor, a few feet from him. He’s resting on the ground, trying to find one good thing to look forward to.

Felicity is sitting on the stairs of her building entrance. The sun is rising, so she knows it’s been a few hours, she has walked in circles over her neighborhood and stopped in the same place where she started. A good metaphor for her life, she thinks. It’s late enough that Mike would be sleeping, she could get into the apartment and get some of her stuff, but she’s too much of a coward to do that.

With the tiredness of a long day and a long year, both Oliver and Felicity close their eyes. The feeling that something went wrong in their lives is present in their hearts, an emptiness that won’t go away and that they can’t name, not yet. Without realizing, they doze off.

The next time they wake up, it won’t be 2021 anymore.

[bigfan-fanfic]

Batdad and Sons (Batdad!Reader x Batfamily Headcanons)

Bruce

Despite both being men, you two remind Gotham of Thomas and Martha Wayne.

Because one of you is a gentle ray of sunshine who is deeply involved in charity work and seems utterly committed to making the world brighter.

Thomas was rather hands-off towards Wayne Enterprises, preferring instead to focus on his medical career and charities that actually affected change for the underprivileged in Gotham. Bruce remembers Thomas always having time for him, stopping everything if Bruce needed to talk with his father.

And the other is a strong, ruthless businessperson with style, grace, and sensuality, who can somehow manage a dizzying array of businesses while still being the ideal spouse and parent in the public eye.

Martha was the head of Wayne Enterprises and an involved boss - she personally saw to the upkeep of each branch of the company (she was the one to hire Lucius Fox). And even with all of these heavy demands on her time, she always appeared in public with Thomas at all of his charities and was involved enough with Bruce to help Thomas plan every family outing.

So, yeah, up to you which one the public thinks you are

Bruce has a constantly-updating social media presence that is run by the Batcomputer’s AI - it keeps tabs on where he is fighting crime and discreetly has Bruce’s account post things about being on the other side of the city

Bruce will occasionally post a romantic photo of you two

You run your own social media account - the Batcomputer automatically reblogs/retweets/likes whatever you post.

You have a lot of cute pictures of the family which the public goes bananas for.

Bruce is a Slytherin. He no longer visits the Pottermore site.

You find yourself making puns a lot while the family is on patrol.

Example: Mr. Freeze has just been defeated by the team.

YOU: Alright, time to put him on ice!

Bruce tends to groan at these because you have a tendency to interject them at inappropriate times. Once you got him to giggle in front of Selina because whenever she talked you just matched her tone but only said “meow”

“Meow meow meow, meow-meow meow meow-meow-meow meow. Meow.”

You do end up kidnapped a lot, as an important Gothamite public figure, and Bruce is generally quite impressed when you escape, because you can either talk an adversary to distraction, or use trickery to escape, or -most impressive - you once convinced a member of the Penguin’s gang to reconsider his life choices and let you go.

Once he got out of jail, Armand became your go-to party planner.

He also now helps Penguin with legitimate events at the Iceberg Lounge. Go figure.

Alfred

The two of you are avid devotees of “The Great British Baking Show”

Alfred never has a soggy bottom.

Dick spends the most time hanging out while you two make stuff, so he’s into it as well

Jason pretends not to be interested, but he’ll still tell you when bread is overworked.

Alfred is so full of wisdom and advice

And he is not afraid to get physical when needs must

Riddler once broke into Wayne Manor

The two of you basically dismantled him using Alfred’s combat medicine training and your own knowledge from working with him

Riddler had several broken bones, severe lacerations, and a mild concussion when he was wheeled to Arkham Asylum’s medical ward

“Y/N Wayne and Butler - BATMAN AND ROBIN????” said the tabloids the next day. Dick couldn’t stop laughing.

Alfred enjoys opera while cooking and baking, but isn’t averse to classic rock.

He also enjoys Beyonce.

You insist on Alfred having a regular day off, but he insists that he doesn’t need one.

“Please, Alfred. For me.”

*sighs* “...Very well, Master Y/N.”

Ravenclaw. He’s a Ravenclaw, definitely.

Dick

You two know all the choreography to “We’re All In This Together.”

And all the songs from the High School Musical series

Since he was little, you took him to every premiere of every Disney movie he wanted to see, press be damned if they made snide remarks about your son wanting to see a princess movie

This tradition has not stopped. Dick’s social media shows pictures of you two still going to every premiere - only now the two of you bring underprivileged children and kids from the orphanage to share in your fun

There’s a picture of you looking very Zen and sitting cross-legged on the red carpet as a bunch of kids swarm around you and one somehow has ended up on your shoulders. Behind you Dick can be seen wearing Mickey Mouse gloves and grinning wildly at the camera, kneeling with his arms around the shoulders of two young orphans

You personally don’t like clowns and trapeze scares you to death, but you never deny Dick when he asks you to go to the circus.

You once bought Haly’s Circus back from the people Mr. Haly had to sell to and gave ownership to Dick. So, technically, the two of you co-own Haly’s Circus now.

Dick once auditioned for Disney Channel (unbeknownst to Bruce). He still can’t quite bring himself to watch Wizards of Waverly Place, knowing that he almost had a role.

Speaking of Wizards, Dick thinks of himself as a Gryffindor - but he was sorted into Ravenclaw.

Jason

Jason gets really emotional over romance - whether it be real or in a movie or a book

He will never forgive Mr. Wickham for what he did

You have had to talk him down from chewing out people who think Catherine and Heathcliff are an ideal couple

And of course, he has shot his television at that one scene in every romantic comedy where things go wrong just before the two leads get together.

A Gryffindor.

Has a sleeveless shirt that asks if you’ve bought tickets to the gun show. Since he has an extensive gun collection, the irony is somewhat lost.

Doesn’t like to be questioned. Likes to question. You bridge the gap using sarcasm, mainly.

He is a superhero movie fanatic. However, he hates it when the love interest dies.

He does smoke, but he knows better than to do that around you. Roy always snitches on him

Roy is very intimidated by you, for some reason

More intimidated than by Jason, that’s for sure.

Maybe because you’ve made Ollie cry before (long story involving too many bottles of tequila, Oliver asking if he was your type, and you responding)

He tends to listen to you when he won’t listen to anyone else

You’ve proven that you don’t put up with much when it comes to him

“I’m gonna shoot this guy right now-”

“Jason you sit your butt down right now!”

“...yessir.”

Tim

Slytherin.

Sleepy. Too sleepy to do much.

Can be found sleeping in the weirdest places. Once he was asleep on top of the wardrobe in Dick’s room, and had no clue how he got there.

You have since insisted that he maintain a strict sleeping schedule.

Unfortunately, you are ignored.

You once gave him glasses that had pictures of his opened eyes instead of lenses as a gag gift. He uses them daily.

Tim likes to watch Jackie Chan martial arts movies. Or the Office. Or Friends. Depends on how many hours he’s been awake.

Tim is always listening to music - anything with a beat.

It helps him stay awake. The longer he stays awake, the louder his music gets. 

Tim does not like ice cream - on family outings, he gets sherbert.

He’s very picky. You spent five days picking out the color of the sheets in his room because the current combination “bummed him out.”

He forgets that you aren’t supposed to draw on walls and uses his room’s walls as a piece of scratch paper.

You make him clean it himself.

This was unwise. He leaves it as is until there’s no more room.

Has an addiction to online gaming. He doesn’t know it, but you are his biggest rival online.

Because he always tells you “just one more round” or “until I lose”

So two hours later, when he still hasn’t logged off, you log on and grief him until he rage quits.

Then you console him as he complains to you, and you suggest he take a break from the game for a while.

You wonder sometimes if this can be classified as emotional torture.

It’s for his own good, honestly.

Damian

Hufflepuff and proud of it

As I mentioned, he is a startlingly good performer.

Has secret aspirations of being on Broadway - either in the Hamilton revival he’s planning for twenty years in the future or perhaps in something by Sondheim

His artistry continues into other realms

He writes fanfiction. This is not a drill.

To your eternal embarrassment and silence, you have become an avid reader of his work. (You created a fake account just to reblog and comment your support. Damian is unaware of this)

If you decide to send him to school (Gotham Academy or wherever), he gets into a lot of fights.

Mostly in defense of others, but also the occasional “he looked at me funny” or “said something about my parents”

I’d recommend home-schooling or online school for Damian. It fits better with his schedule so that his sleep cycle isn’t completely thrown off, and it keeps him away from the little creeps running wild in Gotham (there’s a statistic floating around that 80% of the Joker Gang is under 18, and it isn’t completely inaccurate).

He is a history buff, particularly when it comes to battles and battle tactics.

He knows battle strategy back to front

And yet he struggles with Checkers, and for some reason, Monopoly.

Damian was not given a middle name, so whenever you want to middle-name him, you make up some absurd placeholder.

“Damian Fingercrumpet Wayne, get down from the chandelier!”

“So help me, Damian Stipplenibbler Wayne, I will take away your zoo membership!

“Damian Montague Sasparilla Carthaginian Wayne, I want to talk to you right now!