The Young Justice: Animated Anonymous Fic Meme


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Prompt Post - Part Two! [CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS]
yj_anon wrote in yj_anon_meme
THIS PART IS NOW CLOSED. YOU CAN CONTINUE POSTING FILLS, BUT PLEASE PROMPT ALL NEW THINGS HERE

Part one here!
Feel free to reprompt posts from part one in part two once. If you do so, I'd reccommend leaving a link to your fill on the original prompt, in case somebody is tracking the first thread.
Please note that you can still fill over at part one- just don't prompt there! I encourage you all to go through looking for older things to fill.

Welcome to the Young Justice: Animated anonymous fic meme!

How does it work? Basically, you leave prompts, and people fill them with glorious fic. Pretty simple. Anonymity is allowed for those that feel nervous or awkward requesting or filling, but it isn't actually obligatory. Unlike a lot of memes (like kink memes) this doesn't have a particular focus beyond the fandom. Het, gen, slash, femslash, anything else you can think up? Welcome! Crack, drama, angst? Go nuts!

However, we do have some...

Rules and guidelines.

• Animated canon only, please. Crossovers are fine, so is integrating comics/etc. stuff into animated canon, but no outright Young Justice comic stuff, please.
• Be reasonable. Polite. Etc. You may be anonymous, but that is no excuse for being ridiculous.
• Likewise, be considerate in your prompting. Trigger warnings are appreciated (for content that may seriously upset people with past experience, such as rape/non-con, self harm, suicide, etc.- at the absolute least, please make it clear what the fic contains about before someone stumbles across it halfway through!), and please be careful with your wording. Memes like this often touch on some sensitive material. If you feel somebody has posted an actively offensive prompt, please either PM me or use the mod post here to bring it to my attention.
• One prompt per post, please!
• Repeat after me: Your Kink Is Not My Kink. Don't attack people's prompts because they aren't your cup of tea!
• Look, just don't wank up a storm in general. I'm sure we can all manage, right? :)

ETA: Please do not reprompt things until we reach a second part. In addition, I encourage anyone looking for things to fill to go back through previous pages. A lot of people have old prompts tracked, so your fills will still be seen!

This is the 'flat' view of the page; it shows comments in the order they're posted, rather than as threads. Makes it easier to see new fills on previous pages.

I'll look at getting a Delicious or Diigo or something-or-other archive up for filled prompts if it gets to the point we feel it'd be useful. In the meantime, have fun!

ETA: We now have a discussion post if you need one!

ETA: I need help with archiving! Also, we set up a fill post. Can you please leave links to any fic you write there. See the post for more details. Thanks!

ETA: GUYS. I am officially making the 'PM me about offensive prompts' thing obligatory. Please, I have difficulty keeping up without your wonderful help!

Incidentally, being polite includes not telling people they're being 'too sensitive' for being bothered by things. Just sayin'. This place is a safe space, in so much as I can make it one, and I don't really like the rhetoric of 'oh, if you're offended you're oversensitive' that I'm seeing in a couple places? Remember: people may have had different experiences than you that influence their view. Don't assume. :)

ETA: Since apparently it doesn't come under some of your definitions of 'civility':

NO CHARACTER BASHING.

I don't care if you hate that ditz M'gann, I don't care how much you think Kaldur is sooo boring, I don't care if you think Artemis is a bitch, I don't care if you want Wally to go die, I don't care how much you want Superboy to punch himself into oblivion or how bratty you think Robin is. This is not a place to ask for fic that is for nothing more or less than to satisfy said hate. We have and welcome fans of ALL CHARACTERS here, and it's just insulting and rude to tear them down.

And this is not the same as asking for a single prompt where they're AU and evil, or for a prompt where they mess up in some way, or even where they get called out on something they did if you feel it would make a good story. But come the hell on, guys.

ETA: Please see this recent post regarding certain issues we've been having. Thank you.

In-progress Delicious account.

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I'm a terrible person...

(Anonymous)
On a mission, Red Arrow gets caught and taken prisoner. Only problem is, no one notices his disappearance for a long time because he’s been keeping off the grid for some time, just popping up wherever help is needed. To deal with this (and if he’s tortured, to make sure they don’t get any information out of him), Red Arrow sort of disassociates himself from his body, holing away in his mind.

What happens while he’s imprisoned is totally up to whoever writes this, but what I’m mainly looking for is what happens when people find him (I’m thinking the YJ here, but the JL could work too if that’s more your fancy). I’d love some H/C, especially from the YJ and Green Arrow, too, just sayin’.

Also, I’d really like it if Green Arrow was one of the first ones to notice Red Arrow’s gone missing, because I totally ship G.A./R.A. but it’s not necessary.

Re: I'm a terrible person...

(Anonymous)
Anon whyyy did you just give me another prompt I want to write. WHY.

Seconding in case someone who actually has time, is inclined to fill this. Because this prompt is made of angst and sad!fluff and win.

Drip/Breathe 1/3

(Anonymous)
Roy timed his breaths to the rhythmic drip-drip-drip that echoed through his cell. The cell was damp, and cold, and there were pipes that ran above it that rattled at odd hours. In the left hand corner across from the wall with the door there was a leak in the pipes that caused water stains and a drip.

Drip, drip, drip.

Roy breathed.

[We aren't getting anything out of him tonight.] The man who spoke was one of the men that, in the early days when Roy was attempting to keep up his good humor, Roy had named Curly. He didn't have curly hair, and the only resemblance he held to the stooge was his shaved bald head and lack of chin.

The bald head was why Roy had given him the name.

[The boss is getting impatient.]</small> The man Roy called 'Moe' had even less of a resemblance to his comedic namesake. He was a thin man, with wispy black hair tied back in a ponytail and a scruffy goatee. When he flexed his fingers you could read a history of his brawls from the scars on his knuckles.

He was also rather good with a knife.

Roy coughed, too tired and hurt to even taunt them anymore. Tomorrow, maybe, but tonight he was content to let them do what they wanted with him. His body was their plaything, Roy hadn't done any good keeping it safe, he hadn't done any good fighting them off, the only thing his body was good for was protecting his mind and it couldn't even do that right.

[He'll crack soon.] Curly's accent was slightly different, his Russian slightly thicker sounding to Roy. Roy couldn't tell what they were saying, but he was willing to bet that Curly was Georgian, while Moe and Larry were from Moscow.

The Russian mob was deeply invested in the drug, and gun trade as well as the black market available in Star City.

[I still say we should run his prints.] Larry was nervous, with a receding hairline of fine strawberry blond hair that curled outward to touch the tops of his ears. [We'll have his name then, shouldn't be that hard to connect him back to Green Arrow.] The only two words Roy recognized were 'Green Arrow' and 'imya', the first because it was said in English the second because Roy could at least recognize enough Russian to flirt badly with a bar maid or ask for directions to the bathroom.

Robin was probably fluent.

[The minute we run his prints the Justice League will find us.]</small> Moe snapped, the butterfly knife appearing from his pocket and sliding up underneath Larry's chin. [Do you want Superman or Batman on our tail? No, and neither do our bosses.]

When the butterfly knife came out Roy went back to focusing his breath. Drip, breathe, drip, breathe.

[We'll get it out of him.] Moe snapped the butterfly knife closed and jerked his thumb at Roy. Curly lumbered over and lifted Roy from his sprawled position on the floor.

Drip, breathe, drip, breathe, your name is Red Arrow, you have no father, you have no mother, you are nothing.

"One way or another." Quick, cruel fingers dug into hours old bruises.

Roy grunted.

Drip, breathe.

Blood splattered on the floor.

Drip/Breathe 1/3

(Anonymous)
HOLY HTML FAILURE BATMAN.
-

-

Roy timed his breaths to the rhythmic drip-drip-drip that echoed through his cell. The cell was damp, and cold, and there were pipes that ran above it that rattled at odd hours. In the left hand corner across from the wall with the door there was a leak in the pipes that caused water stains and a drip.

Drip, drip, drip.

Roy breathed.

[We aren't getting anything out of him tonight.] The man who spoke was one of the men that, in the early days when Roy was attempting to keep up his good humor, Roy had named Curly. He didn't have curly hair, and the only resemblance he held to the stooge was his shaved bald head and lack of chin.

The bald head was why Roy had given him the name.

[The boss is getting impatient.] The man Roy called 'Moe' had even less of a resemblance to his comedic namesake. He was a thin man, with wispy black hair tied back in a ponytail and a scruffy goatee. When he flexed his fingers you could read a history of his brawls from the scars on his knuckles.

He was also rather good with a knife.

Roy coughed, too tired and hurt to even taunt them anymore. Tomorrow, maybe, but tonight he was content to let them do what they wanted with him. His body was their plaything, Roy hadn't done any good keeping it safe, he hadn't done any good fighting them off, the only thing his body was good for was protecting his mind and it couldn't even do that right.

[He'll crack soon.] Curly's accent was slightly different, his Russian slightly thicker sounding to Roy. Roy couldn't tell what they were saying, but he was willing to bet that Curly was Georgian, while Moe and Larry were from Moscow.

The Russian mob was deeply invested in the drug, and gun trade as well as the black market available in Star City.

[I still say we should run his prints.] Larry was nervous, with a receding hairline of fine strawberry blond hair that curled outward to touch the tops of his ears. [We'll have his name then, shouldn't be that hard to connect him back to Green Arrow.] The only two words Roy recognized were 'Green Arrow' and 'imya', the first because it was said in English the second because Roy could at least recognize enough Russian to flirt badly with a bar maid or ask for directions to the bathroom.

Robin was probably fluent.

[The minute we run his prints the Justice League will find us.] Moe snapped, the butterfly knife appearing from his pocket and sliding up underneath Larry's chin. [Do you want Superman or Batman on our tail? No, and neither do our bosses.]

When the butterfly knife came out Roy went back to focusing his breath. Drip, breathe, drip, breathe.

[We'll get it out of him.] Moe snapped the butterfly knife closed and jerked his thumb at Roy. Curly lumbered over and lifted Roy from his sprawled position on the floor.

Drip, breathe, drip, breathe, your name is Red Arrow, you have no father, you have no mother, you are nothing.

"One way or another." Quick, cruel fingers dug into hours old bruises.

Roy grunted.

Drip, breathe.

Blood splattered on the floor.

Drip/Breathe 2/3

(Anonymous)
Time was a fluid thing, dark and murky, like blood on the floor of an ill-lit room. Roy was not sure if he had been there weeks or mere days or maybe even months. There were no windows, no night or day, no regular meal or sleep time. Roy's arms were almost always bound behind his back when he was left alone, the hands balled up in fists and captured in tube socks. He couldn't scratch lines in the walls or keep himself busy by twiddling his thumbs.

He coughed and spat, blood and spittle splattered on the floor of his cell, leaving an unpleasant coppery taste in his mouth.

Great, internal bleeding.

[He is of no use to our organization if he does not provide information on the Justice League, and he is expensive to keep.] Moe was getting less and less friendly the more time Roy went without coughing up anything but blood and expletives. [The boss will have our heads for this failure.]

Roy had no doubts about how long he would be alive. His body was damaged, he could be dying right then and there, and he had been missing for long enough that there was obviously no rescue coming. He had seen his kidnappers, he was a hero.

He was going to die.

[I have a girl,] Larry spoke, Roy caught the word 'girl'. [You know, my police girl, she sneaks me in sometimes for quickies, I could…]

[Yes, fine.] Moe's eyes were dark and cold. [Get ink and paper, the boss doesn't want anything cut off he may later need. I hear sidekicks go very highly in the right market.]

Larry left the room and Moe approached Roy, his eyes narrow and when he grabbed Roy by the hair he shook him, hard. "You think you're clever, but I have news for you boy…"

"You're a dead man."

Drip, breathe.

Drip, breathe.

Blood smears red and bright over pale skin, darkens the tips of bright red hair.

Drip, breathe.

--

Black ink dries on his fingers and no one comes.

--

Drip, breathe, drip, breathe.

Drip, breathe.

--

There's shouting, so much shouting, but Roy doesn't hear it.

Explosions, a handful, loud and raucous, strong enough to rattle the pipes above the room and cause the leaky one to rupture, water spilling down the corner of the wall and puddling, pooling, spreading across the floor to dampen his bare feet and his tube-socked hands.

Drip, breathe, drip…

Thundering footsteps, gunfire, shouts. Familiar voices, Russian and English, echoes and a scream.

The door is flung open, it grinds painfully across the last 25% to slam into the wall, but people spill into the room, unwilling to wait until the door even reaches 50%. Familiar colors and faces.

Larry falls onto the ground in front of Red Arrow, babbling like the water as he floods the room.

Breathe, breathe, breathe.

"Please, don't hurt me, don't kill me, I brought you to him!" A man knocks a sharp arrow under Larry's chin and glares. Larry begins to babble in Russian.

The stink of piss fills the air.

"You're not worth it." The man kicks Larry in the head, cutting off the Russian. There are hands lifting Red Arrow carefully, soft hands, careful hands. Not the hands of the man with the arrows, but the hands of a familiar face and a deep soothing voice.

"It's alright."

Drip, breathe, drip, breathe.

"You're safe now."

Re: Drip/Breathe 3/3

(Anonymous)
Voices again, more voices, they get louder as time goes on. Touches too, not like Larry or Moe or Curly's, but soft, careful. Cooling, soothing touches.

Red Arrow is awake, he is seeing everything. There is a man in green goggles with a crescent moon on his cowl. There are others, though the man is the center of Red Arrow's limited attention. He's the one touching Red Arrow, asking questions that Red Arrow doesn't answer, taking notations and then administering lotion and bandages and medication. A sharp pinch of pain and firm pressure on Red Arrow's shoulder.

"Sleep."

Red Arrow lays down.

He sleeps.

--

There isn't any dripping anymore, only an insistent electronic beeping.

It's irritating.

--

Roy opens his eyes.

The room he is in now is cold and sterile, the sheets are soft but the bed is obviously hospital standard. Well, standard for a space age hospital anyway. Roy shivered and pulled on the soft sheets. He was cold, thirsty, and his head hurt.

He was tired.

There was a soft whooshing sound, and then the soft pad of footsteps. Roy clumsily pushed himself up on one arm.

When had the other one been broken? Roy stared down at the arm caught in a sling across his chest. He flexed it and his nerves lit up with pain.

He hissed.

"Red Arrow?" Goggle man, no, wait, Doctor Mid-nite. Doctor Mid-nite?! Then he was… Roy breathed a sigh of relief. He'd been…

Dammit.

He almost wished he was dead.

"Hi, doc." Roy swallowed his throat tight with tears and rough from thirst. "Can I get a class of water?"

--

The glass of water was appreciated, the food was not. Roy's stomach was tight and he was nauseous, the food was bland and unappealing. Roy pushed it around his plate and waited for someone to come in and take it away.

Whoosh.

Footsteps.

"Roy?"

Roy couldn't look up at Ollie, he didn't want to. He was such an idiot, going solo and getting himself screwed over like that. Roy froze and stared down at his spoon.

"So it's the silent treatment?" Ollie whumphed as he flopped onto a harsh, unforgiving metal chair by Roy's bedside. He straightened up almost instantly. Roy could imagine the pained expression on Ollie's face… "Not even a thank you?"

"…thanks." Roy muttered, sounding even more like a sulky child. He didn't want to be a sulky child, he wanted to be an adult. "I had it under control."

"Under control-!" Ollie cut himself off, an arm rose and Roy knew that Ollie was stroking his beard. He did that sometimes, when he was angry or thinking. "Roy, you were… you can't imagine the state I found you in. If you'd found me hog-tied in some dingy factory basement, all beat to hell…"

"You wouldn't be there." Roy shoved the tray away, it rolled about a foot away from Roy's bedside before the slow wheels squeaked to a stop. Dammit, that was not satisfying to him. "You never get yourself tied up and held captive and tortured for…"

"For…"

"…for two months." Ollie's hand on his shoulder and Roy couldn't take it. He flinched. "Roy, please. Once I realized you were gone I… we looked. I canvased Star City from top to bottom. They took you out early, the first day I think, took you to Star City and beat you." Unconsciously, Ollie's hand tightened, at Roy's pained gasp he let go in a hurry. "I'm sorry Roy."

"Say the word, say the word and I'll kill them."

It was surprise that drew his eyes to Ollie's face, pure bafflement that made them stay there, stubborn determination that made him frown back at Ollie when Ollie started frowning at him. "Hell no." Roy snorted and lay down on his propped up pillows. He squirmed.

Ollie, dutifully, fluffed them.

"I haven't paid rent in three months, I've definitely been evicted. If you get arrested I'll have to go live with Canary or GL and neither of them can cook."

Ollie's laughter was spontaneous but long-lived. The sound of it followed Roy into dream land.

Dream… breathe.

You do realize at some point I'm just going to have to sweep you off your feet, sex you within an inch of your life, and then have you write for me forever, right?

Poor Roy. T____T Don't let Ollie fool you, he gets into trouble all the time. Hal just saves his sorry ass.

Now Ollie just needs to be awesome and feed Roy chili until he gets better.

Re: Drip/Breathe 3/3

(Anonymous)
Shhh I'm anonymous. I could be anybody!

What a harlot, proposing such vigorous sex to a perfect stranger.

Hal does save a lot of Ollie ass. It's because he's after it.

Doctor Mid-Nite and Dinah want Ollie to know that Chili =/= helpful when you're ill.

Right, anybody. :P Well in that case maybe I'm cheating on the love of my life, she never has to know.

Our love, it can be puuuuure.

Saves it so very, very many times. He can't really be blamed, Ollie has a nice ass.

Ollie wants them both to know they're wrong and chili has never failed him.

Re: Drip/Breathe 3/3

(Anonymous)
It'll be our little secret.

Well, when the chili BURNS THROUGH ROY'S STOMACH LINING and causes internal bleeding...

N'aw, Roy'll eat the chili and be instantly cured.

BUT OF COURSE, and then Ollie will be right and Dinah and Hal will have to acknowledge his rightness.

And he'll be insufferable.

OLLIE WILL CURE YOU WITH FATHERLY LOVE, ROY.

Re: Drip/Breathe 3/3

(Anonymous)
HOLY SHIT THAT WAS AMAZING. ANON I THINK I LOVE YOU.

Re: Drip/Breathe 3/3

(Anonymous)
GLAD YOU ENJOYED!

I had to phone a friend to pick between a dry or wet cell, wet worked best.

Re: Drip/Breathe 3/3

(Anonymous)
Wet was definitely the better choice, it worked amazingly well!

Poor Roy, we like hurting you too much.

Re: Drip/Breathe 3/3

(Anonymous)
This fill worries me, because I found this to be quite.. sexy. URGH MY BRAIN.

I loved it, though. Dark and intriguing... and sweet at the end, even. My favorite kind of fic ♥

Re: Drip/Breathe 3/3

(Anonymous)
I'll be honest? I get that a lot when I write torture fic.

(...that says something doesn't it.)

Glad you liked! XD

OP!

(Anonymous)
I would just like to let you know that I love you and your fic forever. And Ever. Because somewhere between Larry-Curly-&-Moe and Roy knowing enough Russian to flirt, I fell head over heels for this fic, and my love only grew as it went on. Also, I sincerely love that Ollie searched the entire city top to bottom for Roy and Roy’s last quip just killed me dead.

Roy was so in character too, even when he was beat to all hell and saying that he had named the bald one Curly simply because he hadn't had any hair.

You did an awesome job, Anon, and you totally just made my, like, week! Thank you so very, very much!

:( But Dinah CAN'T cook! ...actually I have no idea if she can. I would have to find comic evidence of her ability to cook I suppose, but all I've ever seen her do is eat out...

xD I'm glad you enjoyed it, OP! I saw this prompt when you put it up and it went immediately into my bookmarked folder. I already had the idea brewing and last night I finally managed to type it out for you.

...can we pretend I didn't sign in? (Not that I really mind, but still.)

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