jlanonmeme | PROMPTS G - CLOSED FOR NEW PROMPTS

GAME OF THRONES LEAGUE

you know it was coming don't lie

IF THE JL WERE FOOD WHAT FOOD WOULD THEY BE

SHOW YOUR WORK

Clark shuffled a little in his seat, making a face as he flaked. "Right. Well, I call this meeting of the Justice League to order, and I, uh, suppose we should start with new business first, in light of our... situation."

"Why the hell are we all food?!" yelled Green Chili. "I swear, if that damn Blood had anything to do with this--"

"Calm down, Oliver." Wonder Fish said, shifting as she studied the grill marks on her with suspicion. "We don't know who or what's caused this. It does seem that there was a specific decision on who became what, though."

Kyle groaned. "Aww, but why am I a fruitcake?"

Green Chili rolled his eyes. "Boy, I wonder..."

Superpie facepalmed, bits of crust folding up to reveal the warm apple beneath them. "Gentlemen, please. We don't even know who's been affected! For all we know, it could be just everyone on the Watchtower, in which case, we're guaranteed to still have one person with opposable thumbs who can help. Bruce must still be in his Cave, so if we could--"

He broke off as the doors to the conference room slid open and a mug of black coffee hopped its way into the room.

"Don't. Ask."

YES YES

THERE'S NOTHING THAT IS WRONG ABOUT THIS

Why haven't we done this one yet?
Rule 63! League. Somebody start writing - NOW!

Kate and Ollie have a bet to see how many people in the League they can sleep with. They keep each other informed of the tally via correspondence.

Dear Oliver,

I decided I might as well begin with a bang, so to speak, and spent the night and part of the morning with Clark. It's true what you said. It's meltingly sexy when he's holding back all of that strength but you can see how much he wants to let go. I'm going to have some interesting smudge bruises in all the places he held and kissed me too hard for a moment before remembering to rein it in.

It's also true what they say re: country boys, namely that they rise early. And often.

Kate

(Surely you can come up with a more toothsome salutation for me than a tepid "Dear"! Might as well call me nothing at all if you're going to be lazy and throw in a "Dear". Here, I'll demonstrate a more pleasing greeting:)

My Enchantress Kate!

It seems we mirrored the red white and blue theme, since I've spent the evening drinking raki and pouring olive oil onto Diana's glorious naked body. It's like being in an HBO series on Greek mythology, so much slippery flesh and bordering-on-sordid fucking! Diana had a local girl do her hair in these twists and if I'm not paying attention they're almost Gorgonish. I feel like Paris or Pericles, but without the moral at the end.

Now I have to go. She's in the mood to hunt for a golden fleece.

Salubrious salutations,
Oliver

(When we decided to do this I didn't think you'd go the entire Choderlos de Laclos route, cielo. But, since you insist:)

Sweet posset Oliver,

It beggars the imagination what an angel can do with all of those feathers at his command, especially if he's decided to turn his attentions on you in one of the most sanctified of Catholic hotspots. Now I know how Leda must have felt during the foreplay.

Right now we're resting up, seeing as I spent so much time on my knees in penance whilst Zauriel lovingly worshiped the holiest of holys. Shall I buy you some indulgences to cover your own romps near and far, or are you reveling in sin like the bad boy you are?

Ten Hail Marys,
Kate

Most Delectable of Katies,

It's fun to be able to call out your name when I'm screwing and have it be applicable to the lady I'm with at the time.

Oliver

PS: Keep the indulgences. I do quite enough indulging of myself as it is.

Honeymuffin Oliver,

Yes, it is fun to call out my own name and have it be applicable to the lady I'm screwing at the time.

Kate

PS: You're reading that date stamp correctly. And no, we didn't talk about you. Or your performance.

Oh Fairest of Kates,

As invigorating and refreshing as it was to have a repeat of our arboretum threesome, writing to you about it suddenly feels a little lackluster compared to watching you. Maybe if I'd tried writing this while we were there.

Alas!

Oliver

Cielo,

What did you think I was doing when you weren't watching?

Kate

Flawless Emerald of my Life,

Shook Mar'i's tree, really liked her peaches. Seriously, the girl is luscious all over, a big beautiful bouncy ripe golden creature, and that glorious violet hair--! Highly recommend, especially because you might be able to keep up with her better than I could. Am somewhat tenderized, but wholly satisfied.

The spirit is willing,
Oliver

Love dumpling,

They say it's the quiet ones you have to watch out for, and while I don't know if Bai Allen actually qualifies as quiet, I'm amazed that the sexual abilities and inventiveness of speedsters aren't more well documented. I feel I should address this lack of scholarship to the best of my ability. Do you think I could get a grant for this study? Perhaps from a progressive company like Queen Industries?

Embroiled in research,
Kate

Both seriously hot and seriously funny, anon.

Honeywineberry!

As you'll notice from the address, Bruce insisted we conduct our affairs at HIS place and not Star City. But I can't really complain when it comes down to it, since being in familiar (if spooky) surroundings seemed to really allow him to let loose. Y'know, I always thought he'd be one for gadgetry and maybe costumes? Turns out he prefers to work with his bare hands.

Exhaustedly,
Oliver

Ols,

In the spirit of the challenge, I took a run at Damian. I don't want to talk about it. Ever.

Ehhh,
Kate

Somebody younger aggressively goes after somebody older for sexytimes, don't care who as long as it's the younger person who drives the action!

It was all Bruce could do not to cry out when Damian shoved his way, dry and rough, into his body.

The room wasn't completely dark, not entirely, and Bruce could make out the line of his own arms through the hazy fog of the drugs Damian had given him. The rope, knotted as his wrist, disappeared over the side of the mattress on either side, the verysame mattress that shuddered as his son knelt, rutting, against his backside. Like a dog in heat, searching for purchase, not stopping until the tip of his prick found the puckered swirl, tore it open in his haste, his lack of planning, rubbed raw with his bare ambition.

The first inch caught and sunk, ragged and bloodied, and Damian husked out a breath, dry and curling as Bruce's hands tightened on the sheets, the pain like nothing he could train for. The older man's tongue, thick and dry in his mouth, lolled around as he groaned when the boy pulled back, the slick bloody inches slipping out for a moment before he pushed back in, again, with vigor.

"Don't you see, Father," he whispered, softly, a hand sliding up Bruce's spine, nails digging in to nearly gore his flesh at the rise of his ass. "..you left me no choice in the matter."

A soft sound from the boy, and Bruce closed his eyes, feeling his own cock, slung heavy and thick between his legs, rubbing against the sheets bundled under his knees, throb. Twitch again as Damian drove himself deeper, angling his body as he picked up a rhythm, a decidedly deep and quickening pace. A hard, frantic pull on the ropes from the older man earned a laugh, dripping like arterial blood, dark and ominous, from his son's open mouth.

"Now.. Now, you'll understand who's in control."

I liked this when I first read it and ohboy I still like it now. You take that mantle from him, Damian.

I don't know how I missed this, but I'm glad I found it because hoo,boy!

Zatanna's spells suddenly have an odd effect: the words appear on her skin in moving black letters. They're not permanent, but Clark in particular is entranced by them.

Clark was stretched out on the bed by the time Zee slipped into her pajamas, with her hair piled into a loose bun that spilled out to the base of her neck. "Hey, I forgot to tell you, I've been practicing a new spell today." she told him, and took a seat on the corner of their bed, "Do you want to see?" Zee smiled wide now, her excitement evident as she tapped her feet against the carpeted floor.

"Of course, Angel." he smiled, propping himself up to get a better look.

She held her hand out in front of her as she cast her spell, "ssalG." the words gave her fingers a glass like-transparent illusion, "I don't know if it'd work so well to have me blend in, but it looks pretty interesting! Maybe I'll find a use for it..."

Clark smiled, "Lovely..." but his compliment trailed off as his eyes caught thick black lettering that appeared to crawl up Zatanna's spine. He reached forward, his own hand tracing over the letters lightly as if the ink would spread to his own skin, "Was that part of the trick too?" he asked lowly as he pressed his hand against the word now, 'glass'.

She craned her neck as best she could, her hand reaching back to Clark to see what he was referring to, "Oh what do I have a patch of it on my back?" she asked as she silently troubleshot the spell in the back of her head.

"Not exactly." he replied, standing up and cupping his hands against Zee's shoulders as he led her backwards towards their full-length mirror, "See?" he asked, his fingers following the dark word as it trailed up across her right shoulder then wrapped around her neck and began to fade.

"Too weird..." Zee replied quietly at the sight of the tattoo like lettering that crawled across her skin. She hoped it was related to her spell, as she hadn't felt any outside magical forces as she showed off to Clark. "Maybe..." she murmured to herself as her gaze fixated on her back, now clean of the letters that had danced up to her neck. Perhaps some experimentation was required, and then maybe she could see the connection between her spells and her skin.
Zee rattled off half a dozen different harmless spells as fast as she could, inky black words trailing along her back just as she released them. As the letter’s paths crisscrossed it almost gave her skin the appearance of bugs crawling up her, but there was no sensation of movement as they shifted closer towards her neck.

It took Clark a moment to realize their room had been filled with various trick birds, miniature fireworks on display, continually falling streamers, as well as a few floating fish that circled about the ceiling. He’d been too enraptured by the black lettering that danced across Zatanna’s skin, the words for once in the proper alignment, rather than the reverse as he had gotten used to. “It does hurt, right?” he asked, again reaching a hand for the few remaining letters that had yet to fade into the back of her neck.

“Not at all.”

“Do you know what’s causing it?”

She shook her head, “No…” she furrowed her brow, not certain of how Clark was feeling about this new development, “What do you think about all this?”
“It’s…” Clark shrugged with a reassuring smile, “so far it’s a bit memorizing, but the magic you perform has that effect on me it seems.”

Zee turned around, her arms looped around his waist while her head rested against his chest. They'd take this new addition to her powers in stride. "I evol uoy." she whispered softly, but Clark didn't need his super-hearing to listen to her now, as the words were clear to him on her back.

"Me too Angel."

OP here, and this is exactly what I was hoping for! So intimate and sensual, ahhhh I love it. Thank you!

J'onn becomes the Grim Reaper.

Quiet. It was quiet in the Fortress of Solitude.

Contrary to its name, this place had been a bustle of energy, of noise, of activity for the past decade. His robotic servants, his human staff, they all brought a sense of work and movement to this place. But now things were quiet. And he was alone.

Kal-El, the Last Son of Krypton, sat motionless on his throne of crystal staring straight ahead and listening. There was no call for help. There was no more danger. There was no more suffering. He had succeeded in his life’s mission. And now it was quiet, and there was nothing left for him to do.

It wasn’t his wife’s murder that sent him to this place. When Metropolis was conquered and his friends killed, it still was not enough to make him do what he had done. But something had made the Man of Steel snap. Something in the mind of the Man of Tomorrow caused him to finally leave behind his moral code and become the iron-willed leader that he was today.

That something began on a cold January day at the graves of Jonathan and Martha Kent in Smallville, Kansas. “Luthor...” he had whispered to himself that day. “Why?” When Superman’s identity was revealed, it was a free for all among his enemies. And he spent so much time defending his family and his adopted city that he never saw the attack on his blind spot until it was too late. He won some battles, and lost some battles. But none were more painful for him than the death of his Earth parents.

And that day, at their grave, he made a vow. “No more” he said. “No more pain. No more chaos. This world doesn’t need protecting. It needs control.”

Superman knew that the League would resist him. He knew that they would not see the truth as he now saw it. And he knew that he alone could bring about the new world order that this planet needed. so he acted alone, sharing his thoughts with no one. His plan had been brutal and swift. He knew that he had to take out his biggest threats first.

Gotham. Gotham City had been his first strike. Without warning, without mercy, he tore through the Bats and their allies. The streets were littered with broken bodies and blood. He left non alive. Bruce had been the only one not caught off guard. The Batman had been his closest friend and most dangerous adversary for years. Clark’s plan... no, not Clark. Kal-El’s plans depended on taking him out. Bruce put up a fight, but he is only human. Kal-El surprised even himself with how easy his rage helped him overcome Bruce’s kryptonite.

Once he had blood on his hands, the rest had been easy. The League had been notified of his actions. Of course they had. He expected they would. The little one, Damian, had managed to send out a distress call before Kal-El had ripped out his spine. But the League could wait. With the Bats gone, Gotham City’s criminal element sprang up.

It took a day, but almost every light pole in the city was decorated with the bodies of Batman’s Rogue Gallery. Outside city hall, the Joker’s dismembered body parts adorned makeshift pikes as a warning to anyone who opposed him.

By the time he had returned to Metropolis, there were some who welcomed his presence. A few of his enemies went into hiding. But they did not hide long. No one can hide long from the Last Son of Krypton. It did not take long for the shining city to be drenched in the blood of those that stood against him. But Luthor was his main prize. Luthor was the one he was savoring. Luthor had killed his parent; he would pay with his life.

LexCorp was well defended. It took him longer than the hour he had planned. But finally reaching Lex’s inner sanctum, he had looked down at a man who refused to cower, refused to show fear. Lex Luthor simply stood straight and spit in the face of the Man of Steel. Kal-El took his defiant head.

By then, the world authorities had joined forces. The U.N. had tried to stop them. He made a pyramid of twisted metal and bones where their headquarters had once stood.

All that stood in his way was what remained of the Justice League. The battle was epic. It leveled cities in its wake. The civilian death count finally rose above 1 million. But Kal-El did not stop until he had gained control of this planet. Kal-El did not stop until he alone stood in charge. He kept trophies from his former colleagues. The Fortress of Solitude was decorated with cowls and capes, bows and rings. By the end, he had grown to love the feeling of blood on his hands, his chest, his face.

And now, years later, he sat alone and quiet on his throne. All of the world’s threats had been eliminated. All of the resistance that had formed against him had been conquered. He alone decided the fate of this planet. And he was without mercy.

The populace that remained, lived only to serve him and his will. Kal-El’s Kryptonian robots had spread out across the globe to enforce his will. Those that pledged loyalty to him helped maintain order. But he alone ruled. He was alone on top of the world. And he was alone when an old friend came to visit.

“Hello Clark” a voice said.

“Who’s there?” Kal-El demanded. He had ordered that he be left alone, and this intrusion was most unwelcome. Bathing the area in his x-ray vision, he stood and demanded again. “Who’s there?!”

“I am here” the voice responded. “I have been here since the dawn of time.”

“Show yourself!” Kal-El shouted, bursting crystal formations with his heat vision. “No one addresses me by that name!”

“It was the name I gave you” Martha Kent said as she emerged from the shadows. “Why wouldn’t I call you Clark?”

“You’re not real” Kal-El dismissed. “You died years ago. And if you did not think I was expecting you Martian, you are gravely mistaken. Though I will say, you are quite a bit late.”

Martha Kent grew tall and took the form of the Last Manhunter from Mars. “Kal-El” J’onn said. What is this madness?”

“Madness?” Kal-El snapped. “This is order. This is strength. This is justice. We always strove for justice.”

“But not at this price” J’onn replied. “What cost have you paid? What terrible cost led you to this moment, this place?”

“It’s a price I’m willing to pay again” Kal-El said, charging at the Martian in an instant. But the Kryptonian merely passed through what was not solid. He turned and blasted beams of the most intense heat at J’onn, but the Martian Manhunter did not move.

“Yes” J’onn said wistfully. “That was how you killed me the first time.”

“I - I killed you” Kal-El stammered. “Yes. That’s right. I killed you already. I killed you ten years ago.

“Ten years ago?” J’onn asked. “Kal-El, what year do you think it is? Here on Earth, during the last battle of the Justice League, the year was 2013. It is now 6378! How long do you think you have been sitting in here alone?”

“6378?” Kal-El asked, confused. “No. It’s 2023! It’s... No. I...”

“Your years of solitude have decayed your memory” J’onn said. “Look. Remember. I return the years to your mind.”

Kal-El screamed “Noooo!” as he fell to his knees, grabbing his head. “It’s impossible! I rule this world. I have ended chaos! I have brought order!”

“Order to what?” J’onn asked. “Only the insects and worms survive. Humanity died out years ago. All that is left is the burned remains of once great planet. You remember this now.”

“Yes...” Kal-El said. “I remember...”

“You are the last remaining sentient being here” J’onn said. “But your time is at an end as well. That is why I am here. I am here to take you with me.”

“Take me?” Kal-El asked. “Take me where?”

“Where all living beings must go” J’onn replied. “To your judgement!”

“But...” Kal-El stammered. “But you died. I killed you. You are dead.

The Martian changed forms again. A black hooded robe covered most of his features. But skeletal hands holding a large and wicked looking scythe revealed his true identity. “No Kal-El of Krypton. I am Death.”

No one was alive to hear the slash of the scythe or to see the Man of Steel fall. But the crystals inside the Fortress recorded it all. And the data remains there, uncollected and unread, for eternity.

OP here - I meant to name this piece "Solitude".

Prompt OP, and eeeeee this is so fantastic! The whole backstory, Kal-El's growing madness, and the blood-chilling truth at the end, just perfect!

So wonderful, omg. I don't even have the words to describe how much I love this. Wonderful!

Cass and Steph must babysit Damian. Chaos ensues.

Kate/Ollie and Zee/Clark

COME AT ME ANON MAKE THIS MAGICAL ALIEN ARROWHUNTER WORK

Clark knocks on the window of the pickup's cab and as soon as Zatanna's got it open a crack, he says, "Stop here," in a voice that sounds like the gravel they're driving across. Zee looks at him for a moment, her blue eyes fixed on her husband's face, until Ollie yells, "I second that!" holding his hat onto his head. Zee shuts the window, turning back in her seat, and says, "I guess you heard the vote from the peanut gallery."

Kate takes a hard turn into the lot behind the derrick, not bothering to get any closer to the diner. She brakes and the truck skids a foot or so before shuddering to a stop, and Ollie vaults out of the back and is opening the hood, coughing and waving his hat at the smoke practically before Kate's put it in park.

Getting out of the flatbed, Clark opens Zee's door and lifts her out. "We're getting coffee," he says shortly, but it doesn't hold out long before the courtesy bred into him compels him to add, "join us when you can. We could all use the break."

The two of them head for the diner, Clark's arm wrapped around Zee as she navigates the unstable unpaved lot in her heeled boots. As they turn around the building to find the front door, Kate sits where she is behind the steering wheel and looks at Ollie through the dissipating smoke.

"It's hard on them," he says, unnecessarily, because it's not like she doesn't know that. Kate's slowly ascending eyebrow tells him as much and he frowns. "Nobody's thrilled about the situation," he tries to amend. "We've just gotta keep going until we reach Fate's place. That's our only chance to get an explanation for what happened to--"

"We've been over this," Kate says. "You're not telling me anything new, cielo."

Ollie comes over to the window and leans in to kiss her. They're both slightly angry, but that doesn't mean anything to the heat they feel when they look at each other.

When they go inside, Clark and Zee are nestled on one side of their booth, looking in opposite directions. But Clark's arm is stretched out enough to encircle her, as Zee sits folded up and running her fingertips along the brim of her hat and the diner waitress watches her like she's entranced by the motion.

"We could stop for the night," Kate says as she slides into the other side of the booth, Ollie crowding in next to her. Clark nods, correctly reading Kate's 'could' as 'should'. He motions for the waitress to bring coffees for the other two as well and says, "There's a motel a little ways from here. We could walk it and come back for the truck tomorrow, let it cool off."

"If it even starts up again tomorrow," Ollie says, but nobody listens to him. He's been writing the truck's obituary for the past hundred miles. "Can I have some pie," he says instead to the waitress, as if that was what he'd intended to say. "Peach pie, vanilla ice cream, two scoops two spoons."

Zatanna stretches one leg out and props her chin up with her hand. "mmmmm, vanilla," she says, although she doesn't attempt to order anything. She exchanges a look with Kate, who smiles slowly at her. Clark picks up his cup by the rim, drinking it dry, and when the pie comes Kate and Ollie end up only using one spoon anyhow.

-------- ---------

The motel is dry inside, dry air and everything slightly raspy under the touch, as if it might alight like a match if you dragged your finger. They get one room with two king beds. Money is running out the longer they're on the road, searching, so now it's one room along the way.

Zatanna commandeers the shower the instant they get in, and since the television volume won't go up much over whisper level they can all hear her humming something lilting over the falling water. The sun sets fast out here, no trees to catch the sinking light in their branches, and it's dark outside by the time she comes out in two towels. Clark reaches for the one in her hair as she passes and twitches it free, Zatanna's hair spilling out dark over her pale shoulders. Kate and Ollie are curled on their bed, heads at the foot of it so they can be closer to the tv, and Ollie feels Kate's hand tighten momentarily on his hip.

Glancing at his wife, Ollie gets up from the bed and steps into Zatanna's path as she heads to her side of her bed. She bumps into him and lifts her arms, as though they'd planned it, and Ollie opens the towel wrapped around her body, using the ends to pull her close against him. Kate breathes in; Clark doesn't. Zee's glossy lips are already parted when Ollie bends to kiss her.

The towel sags, sinks, falls to the floor, and Zatanna's naked, standing in the middle of the motel room with perfect candour, pushing the heels of her hands up Ollie's arms as they kiss. He makes a noise, a deep hungry growl, and it breaks the near-silence that the television was doing nothing to disturb. Clark echoes him, rising to his knees on the bed and moving over, one hand in the curved small of Zee's back and the other ruffling up Ollie's blond hair.

"Yes," Kate says in a dark, satisfied voice, stretching out on her bed. Her husband looks over, drawn instantly by the sound of her voice, and reaches out to drag his fingertips down her extended leg, cuffing her ankle with his hand. Zatanna laughs, a tinkling starbeam sound, and leans over to catch Kate's wrists to pull her sitting up, breasts brushing against the other woman's legs.

"Yes?" Ollie asks Clark, mouth quirked to the side, and Clark laughs like he hasn't since his and Zee's powers were stolen and they first began this trip. "Rao, yes," he says, and Ollie's humming as his mouth meets Clark's. Zee is drawing little circles in Kate's hair, eyelids drowsy in pleasure as Kate's clever mouth moves across her breasts, her belly, gasping when Kate's just-as-clever fingers find the softest, most silken part of her.

It doesn't take long at all before their husbands join them, Ollie sucking Kate's syrupy wet fingers into his mouth as Clark settles Zatanna on the bed against Kate and sinks to his knees. It doesn't take long before the rustling sound of the television is lost under moans and appreciative noises and gasped words, requests and orders, negotiations, frantic urging for more. The dry motel room air turns humid and lush, a greenhouse of brief, intimate reprieve from the long road ahead.

In the morning they will have to get back into the truck and keep driving. But that's the morning. Tonight they have this, and the television flickers on.

OH GOD. TELL US MORE ABOUT THIS, GODDAMN YOU.

i hunger for more

Wally West is the fastest man alive. So why can't he ever catch a break? Turns out he's cursed! And the Flash needs just one night with a magic inclined Leaguer to cure him of his woes. Go!

PROMPTS G - CLOSED FOR NEW PROMPTS

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Justice Buffet

Re: Justice Buffet

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Smallville, 18th August, 20**

Chania, 19th August, 20**

Fatima, 21th August, 20**

Gotham Treehouse, 23rd August, 20**

Gotham Treehouse, 24th August, 20**

Arboretum, 26th August, 20**

Arboretum, 26th August, 20**

San Francisco, 29th August, 20**

Birmingham, 2nd September, 20**

Re: Birmingham, 2nd September, 20**

Gotham, 4th September, 20**

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Yphargillac

Re: Yphargillac

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Cass and Steph's Battysitting Adventures!

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tinder - clark/kate/ollie/zee

Re: tinder - clark/kate/ollie/zee

Re: tinder - clark/kate/ollie/zee

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