#batfamprompts

[anyknotrants]

Waiting

Wally was in love with Robin.

That was probably the most well-known secret throughout the entire Young Justice, if not the whole Justice League. The sky is blue, the grass is green and Kid Flash is in love with Robin. Everyone knew that. 

Except Robin himself, apparently. 

It was awkward for Wally at first. He could barely be in the same room as him without his heart beating out of his chest. Artemis pestered him about confessing, but he never did. 

Looking back now, he can’t figure out for the life of him why he never did. 

But life went on. It just… became another part of who he was. 

The sky is blue, the grass is green and Wally West was in love with Dick Grayson. 

It never went away and Wally had suspicion it never will. But he left it as it was, never acted on it. 

Running around the chrysalis with Barry and Bart now, he knew what was the thing he regretted most. 

“Barry!” he shouted at his uncle, catching his attention. The blond man slowed down for a millisecond, showing that he was listening.

“When you get out tell Dick that– you know what.” There was a flash of something in his eyes. Sadness, grief, regret and finally understanding. For a moment he looked like he might protest, before he promptly shut his mouth again.

He nodded and Wally felt a small weight lift from his shoulders. 

He was glad his uncles didn’t try to stop him. He was a hero as well, after all. He understands sacrifice more than anyone. 

Once more, and probably for the last time, Wally pushed himself on, giving it everything he had. It was okay. It was all going to be okay.

----------

Wally would say that he didn’t know how long he spent in the Speedforce, but at the same time, he felt every single second of it. 

The only thing he knew when he got out was how cold it was, and how much he needed to see Dick. 

---------

In the end, it took a whole day before he could talk to him. Between all the tests and check ups, he didn’t have time. And Batman sure as hell was not letting him anywhere close to Nightwing before he was cleared.

When he was finally cleared, he didn’t waste a single second before he speeded off to Dick’s apartment. 

When he got there, he didn’t even bother knocking, just phased straight through the door. 

He stopped in the doorway to the living room, freezing in his stop. 

There he was. Dick Grayson, Nightwing, his Robin, pacing around the room with phone pressed to his ear. 

Wally couldn’t tear his eyes aways from him, but also couldn’t bring himself to make a sound or move. He just stood there. 

After what felt like eternity, Dick freezed in his stop as well, his back turned to Wally, his phone clutched in his hand, before he dropped it all together, and spinned around. 

Wally could see the moment he registered who was standing there, because Dick’s eyes widened, shining with unshed tears. 

“W– Wally?” he stuttered, and Wally couldn’t take it anymore. He speeded across the room faster than ever, wrapping Dick in his arms. 

“Dick,” Wally breathed out like a prayer. He felt when Dick tensed in his arms, before completely melting, breaking down in his arms, clutching him like his life depended on it. 

“Wally!” he choked out, his voice muffled by Wally’s shirt. 

“You– you’re back! You–” he broke off to more sobs, his knees buckling. Wally let them slowly slide to the floor, knowing he himself could not stand for much longer. Dick grasp only tightened, as he all but climbed into his lap. 

He held him as long as Dick needed. Which was a while. But Wally didn’t mind. Dick had to wait years for Wally to come back, Wally could wait a few minutes, or hours. He didn’t care. 

When Dick finally calmed down, so he was no longer a crying mess, Wally pulled away from him a bit. Still holding him, but enough that he could look him in the eyes. 

“Wally I–” Dick started to say, but Wally interrupted him before he could finish. 

“I love you,” he blurred out, unable to stop himself. But he couldn’t wait anymore. He waited long enough. 

“You– what?” 

“I’m in love with you. I know this is probably not the best time to confess my feelings, after all, I’ve been gone for the past few years, but I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. And I realize I probably shouldn’t wait anymore. AndIdon’twantotdieagainwithoutyouknowingIloveyouandI’ms–” Wally didn’t got to finish his sentence, as he was interrupted by soft lips on his own. 

When Dick pulled away, he had a soft and teary smile on his face. 

“Of course I love you, you idiot,” he laughed. Wally stared for a second, processing what Dick just said, before a large grin took over his face.

Before he knew it, he was kissing Dick again. This time more intentionally, more , more passionately. 

Dick wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling him even closer, and deepening the kiss. 

-----------

It was supposed to be a slow, peaceful morning. After all, Wally just spent one of the best nights with the man he loved, who was currently lying oín the bed next to him. 

Of course, with Wally, nothing could be normal or peaceful. 

“Let’s get married,” Wally blurted out before he would stop himself. There was some rushing on the other side of the bed, before Dick’s head popped up from the covers. 

“I– what?” Dick had that adorable and rare confused look on his face. 

“Let’s get married,” he repeated, rolling around to look at his boyfriend. 

“So I did hear that right– I’m not saying no just– what brought this on? We barely even started dating, isn’t it a bit early?” Dick propped himself on his elbows to get a better look at the speedster. 

“I’m– I’m done waiting. I have waited all my life, and look where it got me. In our line of work, everyday could be our last, I– I died once already. And I love you Dick, and have for longer than I can remember, and will forever. I don’t see a reason to wait. So. Richard John Grayson-Wayne, will you marry me?” 

Wally didn’t know when it happened, but suddenly he had an armful of laughing Nightwing, and lips pressed to his own. 

When Dick pulled away from the kiss, he had tears in his eyes, and a smile on his face. 

“Yes, Yes a thousand times.” 

After he calmed out a bit, tears no longer on his face, and lying on Wally’s chest, Dick spoke again. 

“But I will need a ring,” Dick mused, staring up at the ceiling. 

“Well, lucky for you,” Wally said, bending over to shuffle through his bedside table, and after a few seconds, he let out a triumphal yelp. He straightened up again, this time with a box in his hand. “I’ve already got one for you.” 

Dick stared at the boy for a minute, eyes flicking between it and Wally’s smiling face. Slowly, he opened the box, revealing the ring. 

When he did, he stared at it for a moment longer, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, before he carefully pulled the ring out. 

It was a black, metal band, with electric blue lightning running around it in the middle, with one small pearl nested between its ends. 

“Is– is that–” Dick choked out, staring at the pearl. 

“A pearl from Martha’s Wayne necklace, from the day she died? Yes, it is. Bruce insisted I put it in it.” At that, Dick’s head jerked up. 

“You talked to Bruce?”

“And Alfred. Of course I did! I was not about to propose to his son without him knowing, and without a blessing from Alfred. That guy is terrifying when he wants to be.” 

Dick could only laugh at that.

(this was created for out Batfam community, and its PromptMonday)

[anyknotrants]

Prompt: Broken bullet

words: 1615

warning: mentioned torture, implied/referenced panic attack, Jason and his amazing coping mechanisms

Jason wore a broken bullet around his neck. 

Not just any bullet, no, it was the first and only bullet he fired when he went into the Titan Tower to kill Robin. 

He knew it was bit fucked up- okay, a lot fucked up, but he was a Bat, did you expect him to deal with his emotions in a normal way? 

It just- it reminded him of that day. It reminded him of the way he almost killed, and brutally tortured, an innocent kid. 

Because that’s what Tim was in the end, an innocent kid that just wanted to help.

It reminded him to keep himself in check, it reminded him what happens when he slips, when the green clouds his mind. 

But it was supposed to be secret. Jason was not stupid, he knew this was about the worst way to cope, but he couldn’t help it. It was supposed to be a secret, it was by design, that even if someone was the bullet, they wouldn’t know it to be the one from the Titan Tower. It was just impossible. 

So of course Tim figured it out. 

Jason still had no idea how. 

It was a slow night, one of the rare nights when the even rarer blue moon was visible, which was a surprise on its own. 

Jason, Tim and Duke were the only ones taking care of Gotham right now. Bruce was with Clark for some unknown reason (something about the moon??), Dick was in space with Wally on a mission or whatever, Steph and Cass were in Hong Kong (trying to find a cure for some flower disease (???)) and Damian also who knows where. (Jason would know, if he bothered to check, but he didn’t)

As the night ended, both Red Robin and Red Hood retreated back to the Cave.

“Alright boys, that’ll be all from me, I'll alert you if there would be some emergency, but until then, Oracle signing out, good night.” A voice came from the cave speakers, and not a second later, a click that indicated that Babs was, in fact, signing off. 

Jason parked his bike —making a mental note to himself to look over it and clean it later— tossed his helmet on one of the benches, and all but melted into one of the couches. This night may have been quiet, but the last three sure as hell haven’t. 

“So…” Tim started, sitting in front of the Batcomputer, clicking away at the keyboard. “Any new jewelry or accessory that you’ve acquired?” he asked, still not looking at him. 

Now that had Jason’s mind kicking up again. Because as nonchalant as he tried to sound, there were obvious strains in his tone, and his posture. And the question was also really specific. 

He wondered for a moment if this was about the wedding band he had from Roy —when they eloped in Vegas, black out drunk, after Jason left Gotham after the Tower incident— but no, that couldn’t be it, that was months old news, one that his family already knew. 

“What are you on about, Timbit?” he asked, going for a lighter tone, and only seeing Tim tense up more. 

“Oh, I don’t know, any used weaponry? A broken bullet, perhaps? One that you couldn’ve used… I don’t know, in a fit of rage?” Tim’s voice was getting darker by the second. 

Jason’t blood freezed in his veins. He couldn’t- could he? No, there was no way he would— right? How would he even know? No, this had to be a mistake.

“What are you talking about?” Deny, deny, deny. That seemed to be the safest route here. He sat up on the couch, as Tim turned to face him, slowly. His mask was gone, and there was nothing short of pure anger and hurt in his eyes. Jason wondered for a second if he hadn't taken a dip in the Pit. 

“So— you mean to tell you you are not wearing a bullet that you fired at me in the Tower around your neck?” 

Jason's heart stopped. 

How did– how did he— he wasn’t ever supposed to— 

“What— How did you—”

“So it’s true!” Tim shouted, all but jumping from the chair, but still keeping his distance. 

“No-” 

“So you just casually wear a bullet that could have very well killed me, when you broke into the Tower? When you broke into one of the only safe places I had, when you tortured me?!”

“If you just listened–”

“NO! you wanted a reminder, didn’t you? A reminder that I’m only alive because you CHOSE TO LET ME LIVE!!?!”

“YOU—!” Jason roared right back, green nudging at the corners of his vision. He took a step towards Tim- and immediately stopped. 

Because Tim flinched. He flinched away from him, even though Jason was still a good few feet away. He flinched, and only now did Jason notice the slight shake over his whole body. 

The green melted away faster than it ever appeared. 

Because Tim was scared. 

Tim was afraid of him. 

Jason really, really fucked up. 

The silence in the cave was overwhelming. 

Jason took a step back. Loud enough that it was heard, but not loud enough to evoke any more memories— nightmares, that he already has. 

He kept his hands where Tim could see them, and started walking backwards, until he hit a wall. Even as the younger teen glared daggers at him for doing so, his posture relaxed, even if the slightest bit. 

He slid back down the wall, now sitting on the floor, a good 8 feet away. Slowly, as slowly as he could, he reached for one of his more visible knives, keeping the other hand still up. Tim tensed slightly again, but not by that much, after all, whatever was Jason about to do he could fight off the knife easily enough. 

But that didn’t happen. No, Jason unsheathe the knife, leveled it to the ground, and slid it over the floor towards Tim.

The young boy could only stare, as the cold metal clanged at his feet. He dared to look down, losing sight of Jason for a moment, but when he looked up again, Jason was already sending another one. 

Tim was confused for a second, scared, but by the third dagger, he realized what Jason was doing. 

He was disarming himself. 

He was disarming himself, to Tim, even though Tim just shoved some rather alarming and violent behaviour. 

He was disarming himself for Tim.

By the time Jason worked himself up to pass over his last gun as well, Tim had a sizable pile of various weaponry at his feet. 

They both knew that Jason had more than that. All of them always had more than that, he didn’t think anyone in this family ever went without at least a batarang anywhere, but the message was clear. 

Jason disarmed himself, gave his weapons to Tim, so the teen could feel safer. And the worst part? It was working. 

They stayed in silence,  Jason slumped against the wall, his eyes avoiding Tim for a moment. Tim’s gaze never left him. 

“....it does serve as a reminder.” Jason broke the silence, startling Tim a bit. He did not expect him to speak so soon. Sill, the admittance from Jason left a bitter taste in Tim’s mouth. He thought they were getting better, That Jason cared, but all this time– 

“But not for the reason you think.” Tim’s eyes snapped back to Jason, not even realizing he let his gaze fall, wide, still scared blue eyes meeting ble-green ones. Come on Tim, you can do better than that, and— no, those tears better stay in. 

When Tim didn’t respond, Jason took that as his cue to continue, averting his eyes yet again, fiddling with the zipper on his jacket’s sleeve. 

“It serves as a reminder, but not— well yes, it reminds me of how I almost killed you, how I almost killed an innocent kid–” There was a growl growing in Jason’s chest, begging to be let out. Jason took a deep breath. Don’t scare the kid. Don’t make him run again. 

“It reminds me what happens when I lose control, it reminds me why I shouldn't.” He choked back a sob. Damn, emotional conversations were hard. No wonder Bruce didn’t like them. 

“It helps keep the Pit at bay, because every time I look at it, I remember. I remember the kid that looked up to me that I beated up. I remember my baby brother, who I tortured, who’s trust in anyone I shattered. I remember—” Jason’s words were spilling faster and faster, giving the speedster’s run for their money, but once he started, he just kept going—

His words were suddenly cut off, when an object the size of a human child collided with him.

Jason looked down. 

No, not an object. A kid. 

A kid who was sobbing into his chest, clutching him like a lifeline. 

Jason wasn't sure what to do. The kid never hugged him on his own. Sure, there were the half-hugs, and group hugs (courtesy of Dick) but he never— he never….

Jason wrapped his hands around Tim’s stupidly small body, keeping his touch gentle, not wanting to hurt, or to trigger Tim. 

Only when Tim pressed himself even closer to him —which, wow, Jason was not sure if that was possible— did Jason tighten his drip, all but squeezing the life out of him. 

Jason didn’t know when tears started falling from his eyes as well, or when both of them stopped. 

He just sat on the Cave’s floor, holding his little brother in his arms.

(not my proudest work (far from it) but it could be worse)

[anyknotrants]

promp: Invasion

words: 2800 cca tags: alien invasion, past non-explicit major character death, minor (kinda) Jon Kent/Damian Wayne, violence, hurt/comfort (???) wanted to say this is light angst, but it’s actually quite heavy, ghosts (??)  yeah, honestly most of the people are dead, hopeful ending (????)

     Jonathan Kent felt weak. 

     And wasn’t that something, for Superman, one of the leaders of the Justice League, to feel weak? 

     It just…. It was just so hard these days. To wake up, save the world with a blinding smile that felt more and more fake with every passing day; go to work, to Daily Planet, in the same position his father once had, save the world once more and go to sleep. Rinse and repeat. 

    Cycle that was the same, every single day. 

    Until it was broken. By none other but the Crimson Terminator.

     Well, that’s at least what the Earth called it. 

     For Jon, it was nothing more than a monster. A cruel, bloodthirsty monster. A beast that took more from Jon than anyone ever did. That took away his whole family, half of the Justice League and a big portion of the human population while it was at it, not three decades ago. A monster that is Jon's father, his brother, his mother, his lover… his Dami. The Bat colony –if it could even be called that nowadays– was probably the one that took the hardest hit. All the original heroes, the first heroes and vigilantes ever, gone. 

    The first to go was Bruce, as Batman, standing in the first line of defence. His dad… Superman went on a rampage after that, and got himself killed as well. The next to go was Dick, who, while unwilling, took the mantle after Bruce. He went off with a boom, Wally, his husband, went with him. Tim, Babs and Steph died not long after. Kon… Kon followed his father’s footsteps. Went to avenge his love, and never came back. Ironically enough, Jason, who took the mantle after Dcik, was the one who stayed the longest, almost making it to the end of the war. Almost. He died protecting a little girl. Damian… Damian died in Jon’s arms, pleading, begging him not to end up the same way Clark and Kon did. 

     Cass and Duke, and Alfred were the only ones who survived that godsforsaken year. A year. That was all it took. All of the people Jon ever cared about, ever loved, gone like that, within a single godsdamn year. 

     There were new Bats now, of course, new birds, new heroes. None of the original JL members willing or capable to fight anymore. Barry, grieving Hal, his husband, and Wally, son to him in everything but blood, could never use his powers again. J’onn J’onzz was amongst those who died in the attack. Diana, severely wounded and no longer able to fight, retrieved back to Themyscira, no-one has seen her since. Roy took over from his father, reluctantly training Lian as his sidekick. Cassie took over Diana’s place, Cass took over her father, and so on. The world still had the same titles, the same heroes, but they weren’t the same people. They would never be. And the world knew that. 

     The Hall of Justice was renamed the Hall of the Fallen. Filled with memorial cases for all the members who died. The original Seven, had the biggest statues, right by the entrance. Jon visited that place only a few times in all those years, preferring to mourn in the personal graves all families made for their respective heroes. 

     But the world moved on. They established peace, repaired what they could, rebuilt what they couldn’t. The world got used to their new protectors, their new heroes. 

     That peace didn’t last.

    Thirty years after his first appearance, thirsty years after he absolutely wrecked Jon’s life, the Crimson Terminator returned. 

    And he was even stronger than before. 

     They fought. Of course they did. It all seemed hopeless from the start, but if the heroes didn’t fight, who would? 

    Even some heroes, who were long since retired –like Roy– joined the fight. Jon, being Kryptonian, never aged as fast. In truth, he still felt like 18, the age that he lost it all.

    The Justice League of The Milky Way Galaxy was even bigger than ever before. Twenty-eight years was a long time to recruit and train new heroes, and Jon tried not to think about the fact that some of the new heroes were born after the first attack. That some –many– of them never experience the devastation that It brought. 

    But the Senior members did, and they refused to let it happen again. 

    And, as the battle went on, cities, and heroes, started falling once again. Sometimes, Jon couldn’t help but curse his powers, the way he was born, his need to save others. If he was born as a regular human, if he never got those powers, what would his life look like? Would he ever have to deal with this? This pain, this loss? He could lead a simple, peaceful life on the farm, never having to worry about the fate of the world resting on his shoulders. 

    But that way, he would also never meet the people he did. His dad would never know Bruce, he would never be introduced to Damian. But he would also never know the pain of losing him. And Jon, for the briefest moment, not for the first time, wished he never met him. 

     And everytime those thoughts came, he chased them away just as fast. Because how could he even think that? How could he ever wish he'd have never met Damian, or and his friends?  

     But, he thought briefly, it’s not like it’s gonna matter much longer. I’m going to see them soon enough.

     Jon was fighting alone. They were on the outskirts of Gotham, a city that was already hanging by a thread, yet refused to give up. Gothemites were resilient, as much as their heroes, and Jon had a feeling that that rubbed off of him. 

    Everything –buildings, roads, the flora– within a five mile radius was destroyed, reduced to rubble and dust. It looked like a warzone. It was a warzone. 

     Every other hero was either dead, unconscious, or in no state to fight. 

     They were losing, again.

     And Jon was alone. 

     That was about the only things running through Jon’s mind, as he powered yet another blow straight to the Crimson Terminator’s jay. As much as it had a jaw. The monster barely flinched. Jon wasn’t surprised. 

    Every bone in his body was either broken, cracked, or bruised. He was bleeding from places he didn’t even know he could bleed from. He was weak. 

     He remembered being grabbed by his leg, and being thrown into the ground. The impact created a small crater. 

     Then, his vision darkened, his consciousness slipping away. 

     Finally, he thought, I can finally rest.

     He didn’t know if he should be surprised or not, that the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes, was a white. 

    Not a white room full of medical supplies, or a white cell, no, just white. 

    An infinite void that lacked color. 

    He slowly sat up– as much as one could in place (was it even a place?) like this. Nothing hurt, which was the second indicator of what happened. (If the while infinite void wouldn’t be enough). 

    Slowly standing up, Jon looked around. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, not even on atomic level, around him. Jon wondered if this is what being dead was like. 

    “Jon.” a voice called from behind him. 

    Jon turned around so fast he would give himself a whiplash if it was even possible for him. He knew that voice. He knew that voice and he missed it, he missed it so much– 

     “D-dad?” he cracked out, suddenly feeling weak in his knees. 

    There, in front of him, stood the man Jon would never even hope to ever see again, clad in his signatured blue-red-gold suit. Similar to the one Jon was wearing tight now, albeit less torn and dirty.

    He smiled. That odd, sad smile of his, that Jon hasn’t seen for so long. 

    “Hello, son,” 

    Jon has never moved so fast before, as he all but flong himself at the man, burring his face in his shoulder. It was so weird, he was almost as tall as Clark was. He felt like crying. Actually, he may already be crying. 

    “Dad! Wha– am I– am I dead?” 

     Clarks smile softened once again, not that Jon could really see that. 

     “No, not yet.”

    “What– what do you mean?” Jon asked, pulling himself slightly away from his father's embrace so he could look him in the eye. 

    “You are not dead yet. All you have to do is wake up.”

     “This– this is a dream?” Jon asked, pulling away ever more. 

    “No, not a dream, but something more. But I am sorry Jon, we don’t have much time, and I’m not the only one who wanted to say hello.” 

     “What does that mean?” Jon was frustrated, and tired, and scared. 

     “You will know. I love you, son. I just– I’m sorry, this fell on your shoulders. I’m sorry that I was reckless, and left you to be the one who has to face Him alone. But you can do it. I know you can.” 

     “I’m not as strong as you were,” Jon choked out, his eyes locked on his shaking hands. 

     “No,” there was an unreadable tone to Clark’s voice, “You’re stronger.” 

    And when Jon looked up again, he was gone. Jon let his gaze fall once again, clutching his hands tight into fists. This wasn’t fair, he was crying again, he–

    “Hey Chipmunk.” The new voice made Jon’s head snap back again. There, in the same spot his dad stood not a moment ago, was a different figure. In build and shape similar, but this one had a leather jacket, piercings, but the crest of the House of El was still visible on his chest. 

    Kon didn’t even wait for Jon’s reply before he hugged him tight, squeezing him even tighter. 

    “Damn, how is it that you are already taller than me? That’s not fair.” Kon huffed into Jon’s hair. Jon kept the remark that he now had over two decades on Kon. That thought itself only made him cry harder. 

    “Kon.” He clutched the leather jacket ightinly, probably ripping it a bit. He didn’t care. He wanted to say so much more, but he didn’t have the words. 

   “Listen, I have even less time, as there is someone who probably deserves it more. I love you, you know that right? Just– don’t let my sacrifice be in vain, m’kay?” there was a playful tone to his voice. Jon wanted to answer, but before he could get his mouth to work, he was already falling over, clutching onto nothing. Jon knelt there, tears freely streaming down his face. He hasn’t cried this hard since the first anniversary of the first war. His breathing was rapid, as much as he didn’t even need to breathe. He was confused, he didn’t like this, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do.

     “Habibi.” 

     No, no, no, no. Anyone but–

    Jon stopped breathing. He was freezed in his spot, too afraid to look up. Too afraid of who he might find there, too afraid that he wouldn't. 

     But, as always, his heart won over his brain, and he slowly, agonizingly so, looked up.

    “Dami?” His words were barely above a whisper, yet it carried far.

    In front of him, stood the love of his life. The one man Jon was willing to destroy the world from. The man Jon almost did destroy the world for. 

     Damian smiled, his eyes crinkled at the corners, yet there was a sad undertone for it. “My soul, don’t you remember what I’ve told you? Nobody, absolutely nobody, can take you down. Don’t let them. Remember who you are.” 

    “It’s–” His words got stuck in his throat. He hung his head low. “It’s just so hard. You’re not here, my dad isn’t here, Conner’s not here, Dick’s not here, no-one is.” 

    Jon heard as Damina cept closer, until he could see the tips of his boots. Then, a cold hand was placed on his cheek, tilting his head slightly upward, looking straight into Daminan’s eyes, who was crouching in front of him. There were unshed tears in his eyes, expression of pain, yet with hidden hopefulness. 

     “That’s where you’re wrong, Habibi.” 

     “What?” Jon barely crooked out.

     “Just because you don’t see us, doesn’t mean that we’re not there. We are. And we will always be. I’m waiting for you, Jon, and when you’ll take your last breath, I will be waiting. But that day is not today. The world still needs you, go save it. I love you, Hayati.” 

    Jon’s eyes flew open. He was lying in the rubble the impact created, buried in the ruins of the world he swore to protect. Damian’s words still ringing in his mind. 

    This world still needs you, go save it. 

    Jon was never in the habit of denying Damina’s wishes. 

    The rubble and ground crumbled under his hand, as he pushed himself up. 

    His wounds, one that could be fatal to even a Kryptnonian, started to mend themself together, like they were never there. Newfound power ran through his veins.

    He could see the Crimson Terminator where he was gloating. He could see as the monster did a double take when he saw him. 

    “What– you’re supposed to be dead! How are you still alive?!” He sounded outrageous. Jon didn’t care, There was the undeniable rage brewing deep in his soul. Rage, he didn’t get to unleash the last time. 

     Jon floated fighter, the rising Sun in his back. Basking Jon and the earth in a new, hopeful light. His silhouette dark against the sunrise light, yet his eyes shone with bright, blood red.

    “I am Jon-El. Son of Kal-El; the first Superman and last survivor of Krypton. I am my father’s son, I am the Earth's protector, and you’re not gonna take it away from me!” Jon’s voice echoed over the land, heard even miles away. This was the voice of the man who lost everything, but was still willing to fight. 

    Fast, faster that should be even possible, Jon attacked, delivering a punch right between the monster eyes. The last time in did nothing, but now, now the monster faltered, and Jon didn’t give him time to recover. He delivered another to his jaw, and another to one of his stomach, and another, and another .  He never gave him chance to fight back. Never gave him the chance for figure out what was happening. 

   He delivered blow after blow, punch after punch, kick after kick. 

    He didn’t know how long he did so. It could've been minutes, it could’ve been hours, it could’ve been days. 

    He didn’t stop, until his knuckles were broken and bruised all over again, until he could no longer feel his legs. 

    He didn’t stop, until all that was left of the monster was red dust, flying away in the wind. 

   Only then did Jon fall back. 

   When he hit the ground again, he knew he would get back up again. He couldn’t help but think:

    I did it Dami.

    He let a smile appear on his face at the thought of his soulmate. For the first time in years, it wasn’t obscured by pain. 

    I did it. And I will see you again. Just not today.

   The Earth will recover, new heroes will take the place of the fallen. As they always did, and always will. 

    And with that, the world faded into darkness once again. 

Yeah… the prompt was invasion but then it kinda… just, ran away from me (and I let it). Also, I’m sorry I didn't include Lois in this, but I have absolutely no idea how to write her.