𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘢
𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘐 𝘢𝘪𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶
The five times Robin fell in love with a Red Lantern and the one time she fell harder five years later.
Nightwing x OC
Yo...
a/n: i love that from Zar's POV, Hal is the one man who can do no wrong and basically perfect. But from everyone else's POV, he's an intergalactic threat just as much as she is.
and the memes are back everyone!
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Zaria! Just the Tamaranean I wanted to see."
"I see you got your hands on the scorpions," I smirked and took one from Kyle's plate. "What do you want?"
"I've been working on my detective skills, my terrifying alien sister," Kyle whispered, slinging an arm over my shoulder and escorted me out the room. "You told me to supervise the Right of Consequence, but something felt off... So, I snooped."
I raised a brow as he steered me into a quiet corridor, bioluminescent panels dimmer here, the hum of Tamaranean tech a low thrum underfoot.
"Snooped," I repeated mildly. "You realize you're saying that to someone who was raised by Green Lanterns and trained by Okaaran war monks, right?"
"Okay, I investigated with mild trespassing."
"That's better."
He glanced over his shoulder once before stopping, arm dropping from my shoulders as his expression shifted from joking to sharp. The kind of sharp I'd only seen when something was very wrong.
"Something's wrong with Hal," he said quietly.
My smirk faded as I studied his face, the tension in his jaw, the way his Ring pulsed once, unsettled.
"Define wrong," I said calmly. "Because Hal Jordan has a very wide margin of 'wrong.'"
Kyle exhaled through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Not reckless. Not angry. Not even spiraling," he said. "It's... a bit worse than that."
"Worse how, Kyle?"
"The Central Battery's cracked. Invisible to the normal eye... But Nightwing taught me a trick or two."
"What kind of crack?" I asked quietly.
Kyle hesitated. That alone made my stomach drop.
"The kind that doesn't come from external damage," he said finally. "No impact. No feedback surge. No emotional overload spike. It's not stress fractures from use."
I turned fully toward him now.
"Then what is it?"
Kyle swallowed.
"I don't know," he said. "But it's like something is trying to claw its way out... and it succeeded."
"Say that again," I said softly.
Kyle didn't.
"That crack," I continued, voice even, careful. "Is it propagating?"
