The Young Justice: Animated Anonymous Fic Meme

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Prompt Post - Part Four [CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS]
yj_anon wrote in yj_anon_meme


Part two here!

Part three here!

Feel free to reprompt posts from parts one, two, three in part four once. If you do so, I'd recommend 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 parts one and two- 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':


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.

ETA: Are you offering anything for charity in the recent fandom auctions for relief efforts? If you are, feel free to promote/browse/etc. here!

ETA: New affilate - DC comics meme!

ETA: At several people's requests - rec post & general finding-things post!

ETA: New affilate - YJ kink meme!

ETA: Since part four seems to be going so fast- poll about the next prompt freeze!


For the next few days, until the 2nd of May, DO NOT SUBMIT ANY NEW PROMPTS. Instead, why not try filling a few? We have so many wonderful ones left unfilled. Maybe try looking a few pages back! Or a few parts back, even!

On the 2nd May, I'll post part five and prompting will resume.

Thank you! And have fun!

In-progress Delicious account.


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Fic where the members of Young Justice meet the Endless.

There are some combinations that I think would be fascinating, but there are so many different dynamics that could play out. It would be SO COOL.



I would love to see some Death and Robin interaction - I can bet that he would want some ANSWERS from her... T_T


RIGHT? Death + Robin would be so amazing to watch play out. It would be fascinating and awesome.

I MIGHT have a list of the Endless matched up with the YJ members and prompts for them because I can't stop thinking about this idea. >.> Might try to write something up tonight, even if it is my own prompt.

If anyone wants to fill this, I'm not discouraging them, buuuut...

Someone already did something like this.

You can find it here:

Young Justice and the Endless: Superboy & Dream 1/2

AN: Not sure if I will be get to writing the rest of the team with the other Endless, but here is an idea that got me by the tenterhooks.


Superboy didn't know where he was or how he had got there. All he had done was close his eyes but now he was standing on a hill with grass curling around bare feet. Wally's closet was nowhere to be seen.

The sky was bright and lovely, an orange-yellow-pink that his mind called sunset and sunrise. There was no sun, but the light was warm against his skin.

Superboy closed his eyes to the sky and breathed. He had to find his closet and Wally but didn't move, not yet. He wondered if this is what happened when Superman tried to go to sleep in his closet.

The next time he opened his eyes, there was a man in front of him. The man who hadn't been there before had white hair, white robes, white skin. His eyes were dark and he had a green stone hanging around his neck (beryl or chrysoprase or emerald, the g-gnomes whispered in the back of his mind). Superboy frowned but wasn't afraid. He was Superman's clone, and he was never afraid.

"I am looking for Central City," he said and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm supposed to be in a closet there."

For a long moment, the man simply looked at him. He didn't have eyes like Superboy had thought. Where eyes should have been there was darkness like a deep pool at night and distant stars twinkling from the shadows. It was the second time Superboy had seen stars that night.

"You are still in Wallace West's closet in Central City," the man told him then raised a hand to gesture to the hill they were on and, beyond that, faint blue mountains. "But you are also here, in the Dreaming. You are asleep, Superboy."

"If I'm asleep, how did I get here?" The g-gnomes had told him about sleeping and the way time slipped past while you were wrapped up in the dark. This was not the way Cadmus had felt, even while the g-gnomes were showing him things. Switched off was not the same as sleeping.

"You entered the Dreaming the same way that everyone does," the man told him, and that was not an answer. "And you shall leave it when you wake. Until then, you are in my realm and free to do as you will."

Superboy looked around again. Far off in the distance, there were dark clouds of a thunderstorm gathering and he could see the sharp lines of lightning hopping from cloud to cloud. He should have been angry, because he didn't leave Cadmus to be dragged from place to place without his say. He wasn't. This place was very beautiful and there was warm light against his bare shoulders.

Young Justice and the Endless: Superboy & Dream 2/2

"Who are you? What do you want from me?"

"I am Dream. You are dreaming, and I am the dream. And I am Daniel." The man in white with stars for eyes was solemn and did not smile, but it did not hurt his heart the way Superman's lack of smile had ached. "You are unusual, Superboy. You are in the Dreaming for the first time, and yet you are almost grown. Even children in their mother's wombs dream, and you have not. I am also...someone who is new and yet not. I wished to see you dream."

Superboy flushed and shifted in agitation and something like shame. He wished Robin could blow up Cadmus all over again. "Well." He raised his hands in a gesture that took in himself, the whole empty place. It didn't seem like much. It wasn't worth coming to see. "Here I am."

The man, Daniel, looked around the hill and then back to Superboy. He didn't seem disappointed. "A child's first steps. The dreams of your people were wondrous, though the children of Rao were always my sister's."

"You mean Kryptonians." The word felt clumsy on his tongue. Alien.

Daniel nodded.

Superboy's heart sped up when he realized what this meant. "Do you see Superman's dreams? Could I see them? Could I-" He didn't say it but hope curled in his belly. Maybe Superman didn't want to see him there, in the world, but maybe here where it could be different...

"The Dreaming is not for peering into other's minds," Daniel said, and it felt like a reprimand but Superboy didn't care. Maybe not right now, maybe not on purpose, but if they were both asleep at the same time and met on a hilltop then. Then they could just. Be together for a while, until they woke up.

"Superboy." Daniel was looking at him expectantly and his voice was impossible to ignore. "This is the Dreaming, it is not reality. It is not just a hilltop or mountains or a thunderstorm. It is wide and strange. I would see it through your new eyes, if you would explore it."

"It's not reality?" Superboy asked a question but even as he asked it he could feel the answer in his bones. Reality was Cadmus and the Justice League and Wally West's closet full of wrinkled button-downs. This was somewhere else. There were different rules. "We can do anything."

Superboy looked at Daniel's dark not-eyes and smiled. "I know what to do."

In his dream, Superboy flew.

Re: Young Justice and the Endless: Superboy & Dream 2/2

Oh my god, this was so wonderful.
I started to tear up a bit at the last line.
Thank you for writing this!

AN: I know that Klarion's not a member of the team, but I wrote something with him and Desire that I hope you'll enjoy.

Also: The pronoun usage for Desire is wonky on purpose. Desire is usually referred to as "it" in the books and I just don't approve of that. Also, Desire obviously tries to be the most complicated out of the Endless so switching between gendered pronouns would probably seem like fun.

“You want him,” Desire murmurs as he watches Klarion’s pale fingers clench over the back of his chair until the wood starts to shatter. “You want both of them. I can see why: Redheads are rather lovely.” The personification of that fluttery, needy feeling in Klarion’s gut makes a lewd expression at the young Chaos Lord just to watch his dark eyes flash with anger. “You’re such a greedy little thing, trying to sleep with both of them at the same time.”

She moves in close before Klarion can stop him and presses a hand to the boy’s belly. “So greedy and yet so innocent,” she purrs as he licks a wet line over the tense curve of Klarion’s jaw. “Tell me something, little one: What do you desire?”

The hand on Klarion’s stomach slides down further until sharp fingernails are brushing at the waistband of the boy’s black trousers. It goes no further. Even Klarion’s soft little whimpers do nothing but cause Desire to kiss the back of his neck where blood has rushed to color it in with a light flush.

“Let me go,” Klarion tries to order as he twists and pulls against the uncommon strength of Desire’s long arms. The boy’s breath comes faster and faster in his chest and tears prick at the very corners of his eyes. “If you’re going to k-kill me, stop humiliating me.”

Klarion can feel Desire’s head cock to the side.

“I’m not going to kill you,” she promises as he dances fingers over the fluttering expanse of Klarion’s stomach. “You’re practically my own flesh and blood. No, I want to help you.”

Before Klarion can stop to think about what he’s saying, the words are flowing from his mouth like spilled wine. “I don’t even know you,” he accuses as he finally manages to wriggle out of Desire’s unwanted embrace. “And I’m certainly not related to a-a pervert like you!” His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are wide to a point that looks painful. “Let me go!”

Desire merely smiles.

“No,” she admits as his tawny yellow eyes flash in the light. “There is no common blood between us.” She pauses to lick his lips and when she speaks again, Klarion can’t help the heat that starts to burn in his belly. “But I can see more of myself in you than I have in anyone alive at this moment. Forgive me if I want to nurture your talents…as well as your hungers.”

“You want to do what?” Klarion’s nasally voice is just a bit suspicious although the dark sparks of his magic had stopped their slide up the length of his slender arms. He’s still afraid, but now, his curiosity overwhelms the screaming urge to throw magic around until he can find a way out of this confusing hellhole.

“Do you still want to leave,” Desire asks as he watches the war going on in Klarion’s head with no small amount of glee. “Do you still want to walk away from everything that you want? From everything that I could teach you how to get?”
Klarion’s eyes are still wide and filled with the last vestiges of fear, but the little lord of chaos still reaches to take Desire’s hand.

He wants love.

He wants power.

He needs to be something more.

Desire can’t hope to ignore the siren call of the desperate yearning that makes up every atom of Klarion’s shivering body.

Edited at 2011-04-17 06:05 pm (UTC)

Re: Curiosity [fill]

OP Here, this was WONDERFUL. I never thought of putting Klarion and Desire together but it really works. The way you describe Desire is WONDERFUL and I love how he toys with Klarion. Oh, Klarion, you have no idea what you are getting into.

Also, totally with you on the gender trouble when it comes to Desire, but I think you handled it really well and it worked for me! Thank you so much for this fill, it was delightful.

I agree with OP, using the differently gendered pronouns didn't really complicate the reading any, but it definitely felt very much like Desire. I love how heshe sees Klarion as all hishers, too. That's essentially what Klarion is- just a big bundle of various wants and needs and hunger, and you got him so bang on!

I just love, love love this fill. I have to wonder- is it Wally and Megan he wants, or Wally and Roy? :3

Re: Curiosity [fill] (Anonymous) Expand

He doesn't recognize the face in the mirror.

It might be the change in costume or the five-o-clock shadow. Most likely it's the fact that he hasn't eaten in a few days because half his cash went to rent and the other half to junk, and the skin is stretching tight across his cheekbones and eye sockets. The reason isn't important. He looks different.

Maybe, he thinks as his hand reaches up to traces the line of his own jaw in the reflection (his left is its right, his right is its wrong), this is the way he was always meant to look.

If Ollie hadn't picked him up and taught him how to hold a bow and what it was like to be a hero, maybe Roy would have looked like this years ago. If he had never spent the afternoons with Robin and Wally, shooting the breeze and occasionally trading playful punches. He's probably just returning to his intended state. Like entropy.

The face in the mirror creases in a frown. Is that what entropy really means? It doesn't matter.

The hand reaches past the face, opening the mirror to reveal the oh-so-normal cabinet behind it. It was one of the reasons Roy chose this apartment. For all that the place is dank and dripping and he can hardly afford it anyway because heroism doesn't pay all that well, it still has a cabinet behind the bathroom mirror. All mirrors, he thinks, should have something behind them.

On the third shelf up is what he wants, a single needle which at one point had been intended to inject life-giving insulin into the subcutaneous fat of a diabetic he had carried to the hospital a few weeks ago. He can remember the feeling of her in his arms, trashing with seizure as he ran and tried to force store-snatched orange juice down her throat at the same time.

He had taken the needles from her purse while the doctors administered the glucagon, and had been gone before she regained consciousness.

The needle was never meant to pierce the vein and, having been used numerous times before, it's almost too blunt to serve its purpose but he takes it down from the shelf anyway. The pieces he needs are balanced neatly on the side of the sink; spoon, candle (lit), tourniquet, junk. The process is automatic, he's already got the mixture of water and powder heating over the candle before he blinks.

He closes the mirror before loading the needle, and again he doesn't recognize the face he sees there.

There's a woman looking back at him. Her hair greasy and her breasts sagging almost out of sight. She's completely naked, but Roy can't find it in him to be disgusted or aroused.

She has something that looks like a fishhook around her finger and at he watches she presses it carefully into her skin at the crook of her left elbow. Blood flows freely from the wound, although she does not move her eyes from his for a moment. It's entrancing. He feels, for a moment, a little less alone.

Roy looks down for a moment and the needle is already sliding into his arm, in the exact same place as the stranger's hook.

He glances back at the mirror but the only face he sees is the one that must be his own. Roy pushes down on the plunger.

He's sitting under the sink (head leaning back against the exposed pipes) when he hears their voices. A familiar sound, deep and sore like she's been screaming.

"He is yours for the time being, my sister." She whispers because he cannot imagine her speaking louder.

He doesn't hear the response because he's flying. But for a moment he images something like laughter and the feeling of Ollie's fingers in his hair.

Re: Aponoia [Fill]

Hell. Yes. Oh, Roy, baby . . . why do you do these things to yourself?

This is so amazing. I love his quiet introspection, and of course Despair would take interest in Roy, ah, and the last line.

Crap, anon, this is so sad and so good.

Re: Aponoia [Fill] (Anonymous) Expand
A/N: This prompt has taken over my soul.

After two accidentally-wrecked buildings and a stern not-quite-talking-to from Superman, Superboy knows only one place where he can recuperate and he heads there almost immediately.

The sun is setting over the Metropolis shipping district by the time Superboy arrives. The feeling of the dirt beneath his feet as he comes to a halt serves only to remind him that he isn't flying.

He sits on the edge of the pier, letting his feet dangle in the water as he looks out over the boats and tankers. The area is almost entirely enclosed in large shipping containers, like he might find on a train or an ocean liner. He heard somewhere that they had started building eco-friendly housing out of these things.

He can't really imagine living in a hideous tin box, but Superboy often has trouble imagining things he hasn't seen. He's spent the majority of his life in a tube, after all, so what does he know about building homes?

His hands, rough and big like a farmer's (which he isn't), are clutched tightly around the edge of the wooden surface he's sitting on. He reminds himself to carefully pull back his hands, finger by finger, so as not to rip off chunks.

Superboy wonders if he'll ever get the hang of not ripping things to pieces.


He looks up, startled. Surely his hearing would have picked up someone approaching? The pier itself is remote, no longer in use and cut off from the rest of the city.

"Mind if I sit?" The man standing next to him seems friendly. He's big (like Superman), broad in his shoulders and taller than anyone Superboy has met. His red hair is barely contained with a cheap drugstore elastic and he's wearing at least three contrasting plaids. Superboy wonders briefly if the man is homeless.

He shrugs. It's not as if the stranger can hurt him.

"Strange place for a superkid like you to be hanging out." The guy tells him, pulling something from his pocket and fiddling with it as he gazes out on the horizon.

It isn't a typically beautiful view, too polluted and cluttered to show off the majesty of nature and too neglected to be a testament to human ingenuity. This is where the big ships go to die.

Superboy likes it here because it is full of broken things that he didn't have a hand in breaking.

"You alright, Kid?" He says it like it's Superboy's name, and maybe it should be. It's not like he has another name to use.

"I guess." Superboy says finally, "It's been a hard day."

"Hard century." The man agrees with a snort, "But not the worst."

"Yeah. I--" Superboy doesn't know what to say. That his friends got mad at him for crushing the couch in the lounge? That he tried to write a letter to Superman but could finish it because he kept breaking pencils in a rage?

That he can't fly? If he could just fly, Superboy thinks, all the accidental breaking of things and people might be worth it. If he could fly maybe he wouldn't be so angry all the time.

It's the one difference between him and his... progenitor, after all. Superman is never angry the way he is.

"Here." The guy says, handing over a piece of tightly folded paper.

"Thanks." Super cradles it in his hands (almost as big as the stranger's), "What is it?"

"What is it?!" the man booms, "It's a crane! Can't you tell?"

It looks like a bubble-gum wrapper, "Sure." Superboy says, "There's the wing."

"That's the head." The man grumbles.

"Oh. Okay."

Silence falls again. But it's a nice silence.

"Do you know what I like about this place?" The guy asks after a while.

"The highly flammable oil in the water?"

"It's full of so much potential." He says without a blink.

"What?" Superboy looks over, "No it isn't. It's broken. Everything is rusty and old and left behind."

"No way." The man says with a grin, "It's just waiting for the right person to find it and make it into something awesome. Like these crates," He gestures with a hand the size of Superboy's head, "Did you know they make houses out of these?"

"So I hear."

"That's pretty awesome." The guy continues, "I mean, creating something useful out of something that was just going to waste, right?"

"I wouldn't know." It just pops out, Superboy isn't exactly sure why he's telling this (most likely) homeless guy anything.


"I haven't made anything. Ever. I mostly just break stuff." He says finally, looking down at a tightly clenched fist. If he had been holding anything (a person) it would have been crushed to pieces.

"Nah." The guy says, "You've made stuff. You can't help but make stuff. It's part of you."

"What?" It makes no sense.

"Creation and destruction are two sides of the same coin. You can't have one without the other. I don't want to sound like The Lion King or anything, but there's no way you only break stuff, Kid."

Superboy grunts, "Well I'm only good at breaking stuff anyway." He mutters.

"Yeah, me too." The guy tells him with a grin, "But that's why my art is so much more important. If we only went around doing the stuff we were good at we'd be pretty boring. Here."

He hands over another piece of paper, this time it looks more shaped, but Superboy has no idea what the shape is supposed to be.

"A dog?"


"Sure." He cradles the creation in his hands, it's almost precious.

"Oops." The guy says finally, standing and brushing off his pants. "Pressing business to attend to, got to go."

"Uh. Yeah." Superboy feels better, although he doesn't know how or why. The view is still nice, the air is as clean as it gets in this part of the city, and he's thinking about taking up origami.

"I'll see you later, Connor." The stranger says, and Superboy is saying "Sure, later." before he even registers the goodbye.

When he turns around to look, he's completely alone.

Re: Olethros [2/2]

The interaction between Destruction and Superboy... I never would've thought about that. It's strange and cute and heartwarming, and I love that Superboy can't recognize what the origami shapes are. Superboy...! You've just gotten a pep talk from an ENDLESS!

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