Batson stuff

Sorry for being to late for the pride month celebration post, BUTTTT I was busy

ANYWAY, as an honorary pansexual and demi-girl (she/they) Australian fanfic writer I present to you...

The Gay and Lesbian Kingdom of the Coral Sea Islands!!!!¡¡¡¡!!!!! ♡♡♡♡♡

Please look this up. it's such a funny piece of history, i found out about it a few days ago myself, and im so happy that it's real and that I wasn't tricked (or im just going crazy and was tricked) BUT still happy days

Anyway, HAPPY PRIDE MONTH, GAYS, GALLS, NON-BINARY PALS, OR NON-GENDER DEFINING BEINGS (idk if that and being non-binary is the same, but im not looking it up im lazy)

Sadly, there are no updates on any fanfics rn as im busy and haven't gotten to them, but i will soon, dw, love yall.

Have a great pride month with your partners, family, friends, or even just being alone and relaxing

I would also like to pay attention to those horribly disrespectful people who booed during the opening speech. As i didn't go to Dawn Service, i still must say that those people are absolutely disgusting and horrible people to defile this holiday to our heroes in the 1st war i do hope they learn from their mistakes and learn that theyre disgusting human beings

All Australian readers of mine, we must come together and celebrate this day to honour our ancestors and indigenous people on this land, and shall we never see those people at peace as they chose to defile this day and maybe many more

We shall now begin...

For Billy, death was cold.

Not dramatic, not loud, not even painful once it finally came. Just… cold.

One moment he was choking on blood, the League’s frantic voices a blur above him, the timer bleeding out. The next, silence. Stillness. Darkness.

And then—pulling.

It was like something had hooked into his chest, dragging him backward through the void he was supposed to be sinking into. He tried to fight it, but he was so tired. His small body had been broken and patched too many times, pushed beyond its limit. He just wanted to rest.

But the voice came.

“You are not finished.”

It was thunder without sound, echoing inside his skull, making his bones hum.

Billy shook his head weakly in the void. I can’t… I can’t anymore. I tried. I’m just a kid.

“You are the Champion. The world still needs you. Magic still needs you. You will not fall yet.”

The hook in his chest yanked harder. Pain rushed back all at once—his wound burning, his lungs clawing for air, his veins igniting with electricity. He screamed, though no sound came.

“Please—” His voice cracked, tears stinging his eyes. “It hurts—I don’t—I don’t want to die—”

“Then fight.”

And the lightning answered.

It didn’t just strike him—it filled him, flooding through every vein, every cell, raw and merciless. His heart spasmed under the force, his body jerking violently as golden veins lit under his skin. Each strike tore him further from the void, until the white-out storm consumed him.

Billy’s eyes snapped open inside the chaos, glowing molten gold as the magic clawed him back to life. His tiny body convulsed on the marble floor, mouth opening in a scream swallowed by thunder.

---

Outside the storm

The League staggered back as the Watchtower itself shook, the room now little more than a blinding cage of lightning. Sparks danced across the walls, arcs jumping from one steel support to another, cooking the air itself.

“Systems are failing—” J’onn’s voice cut through their coms, warped by static. “The power surge is off the charts. You must evacuate!”

“Nobody’s leaving him!” Superman roared back, shielding his face with one arm as another bolt cracked across the room, forcing him to the ground.

The doors slammed shut in their faces, the failsafes locking automatically as the storm inside reached lethal levels.

“Batman!” Diana slammed her fists against the door, her voice raw. “Open it! We can’t leave him alone in there!”

Bruce’s jaw was set, his eyes narrowed behind the cowl. His gauntlet screen flashed warnings—electrical surges beyond measurement, containment walls breaking. His voice was flat, but his hand shook. “If we open that door, we all die with him.”

“Then let us!” Diana’s eyes blazed, tears threatening. “He’s a child! He should not be dying alone!”

Inside, another strike hit. The light was so blinding it made them all flinch, even through the reinforced door. For a breathless second, the League could only hear the thunder, deafening, endless.

Then silence.

The static faded. The arcs crawled back into nothing. The storm dimmed.

The Watchtower’s systems flickered back online one by one. The emergency locks released with a hiss.

The doors creaked open.

The League rushed in. Smoke and ozone stung their eyes, the marble scorched black, walls cracked with the force of the storm. The smell of burnt stone and blood lingered heavy in the air.

And in the center of the devastation, where their Champion had fallen—

A boy sat on the floor.

Not a hero, not a god, not a Champion. A child. Whose chest was rising in shallow, trembling gasps. His skin glowed faintly with golden veins, lightning still flickering weakly under the surface, like his body hadn’t decided if it would keep him yet.

Diana fell to her knees beside him, her hands trembling as they hovered over his tiny frame. She didn’t dare touch, terrified the magic would burn her too.

“Captain …” Her voice broke on his name. “Oh, gods, brother”

His eyelids fluttered, heavy, his lashes sticky with blood. His lips moved, soundless at first, until the tiniest whisper slipped free.

“…told you not… to panic…”

I'll give ya a little tease 😏

The Watchtower’s meeting room had never felt so claustrophobic. The glow of the timers above them, that constant tick-tick-tick, had drilled into their minds since the battle. But tonight, it was worse. They could all see it: Captain Marvel was breaking down.

He stood in front of them now, shoulders hunched, sparks crawling across his skin in wild, uncontrolled bursts. His cape hung heavy, damp with sweat, his jaw clenched hard enough to shake. The booming, effortless voice they were used to was gone; when he finally spoke, it was frayed, desperate.

“You can’t panic,” he said. The words were clipped, raw. His fists trembled at his sides. “If you panic when you see this—if you so much as flinch—it’s over for me. Do you understand?”

The League glanced at each other, confusion and tension flickering across their faces. Superman leaned forward, brows furrowed. “Captain, what are you—”

“Promise me!” Marvel’s voice cracked like thunder, the force making the lights above them rattle. His chest heaved. “Promise me you’ll hold steady. Because the second you don’t—” He swallowed, eyes tight with fear. “—that’s the second I die.”

The silence after that was suffocating. Even Flash didn’t breathe too loudly. Finally, Diana gave a solemn nod, her voice calm but firm. “You have our word. We won’t panic.”

Marvel’s hands curled into fists. He closed his eyes. For the first time, they saw not a god, not a Champion, but a boy steeling himself to jump off a cliff.

The word fell from his lips, soft, terrified, but unmistakable.

“Shazam.”

Lightning ripped through the room. Blinding, golden-white, deafening like the world was cracking in two. The blast threw sparks across the marble floor, scorched the walls, rattled the very bones of the Watchtower.

When the light cleared, the League froze.

Where Captain Marvel had stood was a small body crumpled on the floor. A boy. No older than ten, blood already soaking his shirt, pooling beneath him, seeping into the cracks of the marble. His chest rose shallowly, then hitched, then stilled.

And above his head, his timer wasn’t frozen anymore.

It burned red.

00:02.

Two minutes left.

The League surged forward. Superman was the first at his side, kneeling hard enough to crack the floor. “God—no, no, no—Marvel?!” His voice was frantic, cracking. “Marvel, wake up!”

Flash blurred in, hands already glowing as he tried compressions at super-speed. “He’s bleeding out too fast, I can’t—I can’t move the blood fast enough—”

Diana knelt at his other side, hands pressing firm over the wound, her face pale but calm. “We need Zatanna. Constantine. Someone—anyone—who can use healing magic to a wound this deep!”

Batman’s voice cut like a knife. “There’s no time. He has less than two minutes.”

01:00.

One minute.

Billy’s chest convulsed under their hands. His eyes fluttered open for just a heartbeat, glassy and wide with fear. “Don’t… let me—” His voice was small, weak, and horrifyingly childlike. Then it cut off as blood bubbled from his lips.

Superman’s breath hitched. “No—no, stay with us, Marvel!” His hands were shaking so badly he could barely hold pressure on the wound.

00:30.

Thirty seconds.

Flash’s voice cracked. “He’s slipping, Bats! I can’t—he’s—”

The timer bled to zero.

Billy’s head fell back against the floor, his body going slack in their arms. The crimson glow above him flickered once, then went out.

Dead.

“No—” Diana’s voice broke for the first time in years. She pressed harder, harder, like she could force life back into him. “Not like this, not this boy—”

Clark’s hand trembled where it cradled Billy’s head. “He’s just a kid,” he whispered, his eyes glassy. “God—he’s just a kid.”

But Batman’s jaw locked. He didn’t stop moving, didn’t stop checking vitals, applying compressions, anything to fight the inevitable. “We don’t stop until he breathes. Keep working!”

For a long, agonizing moment, the League tried everything—compressions, energy pulses, Flash vibrating his molecules to restart his heart—but nothing worked. The body stayed limp. The Champion of Magic lay dead at their feet.

And then the impossible happened.

Lightning.

It rumbled from nowhere, building like a storm. But they were in space—there was no sky, no clouds, no storm to make thunder. The air itself buzzed, sharp and metallic, until the entire room was glowing white.

“Move back!” Batman barked, pulling Diana up by the arm.

“No! He’s still—”

“You’ll die if you touch him!” His grip was iron, dragging her back as sparks leapt across the floor, burning through boots and gloves alike. The air was electric, suffocating, deadly.

Then it struck.

A lightning bolt larger than anything they’d ever seen slammed into Billy’s chest, bright enough to blind, loud enough to rattle the foundations of the Watchtower. His body convulsed under the hit, blood spraying across the marble as the energy coursed through him.

When the light faded for a second, the boy was still. Too still.

Another bolt came. And another. Each one shaking the room, each one so powerful the League had to retreat to the walls, shields raised, or else risk being killed by the backlash.

“Diana!” Bruce’s voice was raw as she struggled against his grip, reaching toward the boy. “You’ll be fried alive!”

The room filled with golden arcs, sparks crawling up the walls, shattering glass. The air was no longer breathable, thick with static. Even Superman staggered, his invulnerability stretched to its limits.

And then—

The third strike.

It hit Billy square in the chest with a sound like the sky breaking. The light swallowed him, the League, the entire room until nothing existed but white.

Through it, they saw his small body jerk violently. His back arched, his arms snapped outward, the lightning making his veins glow like molten gold. His mouth opened in a silent scream—

And the doors slammed shut, sealing the League out as another deafening crack split the air.

Has nothing to do with my current fic also ill be taking a break, so I'll get the next chapter out later this week, and a danny Phantom x Billy batson fic soon sorry for taking so long I've had work to do

Edit: Write whatever others you want in comments

The next day, the Watchtower’s meeting room was too quiet. The hum of the lights, the faint tick of the timers in the background—every sound pressed in on him. Captain Marvel stood at the head of the table, his cape dragging low, shoulders stiff as stone.

“I wasn’t completely honest yesterday,” he began, and even his voice betrayed him—trembling, thin.

Every eye turned to him.

He swallowed hard. “I told you I was straining. That’s true. But the truth is… it’s killing me. I’m dying.”

The words dropped like lead.

Flash leaned back sharply. Superman’s brows drew tight. Diana sat straighter, silent, but listening. Batman’s stare didn’t waver.

Marvel’s hands shook as he gripped the edge of the table. “If I let go—if I change back now—I’ll die. But if I keep holding this form, it’s tearing me apart piece by piece.” His chest hitched, lightning crawling up his arms as though reflecting the panic twisting inside him.

He forced himself to continue, voice cracking with something far more raw than he wanted to admit: “If I die… the world loses Captain Marvel. And magic loses its Champion. Way too early.”

The sparks flared, brighter, harsher. “There’s no one else! The wizard chose me. There isn’t another waiting in the wings. If I fall, there’s no replacement, no safeguard. Magic will lose its protector, and all of you—” His voice broke, almost a child’s plea hidden beneath the baritone. “All of you lose someone who was supposed to stand beside you for decades. I can’t—” He dug his nails into the metal table until it creaked. “I can’t let that happen. I can’t die. Not now.”

He shook his head, chest heaving, eyes darting between them like he expected them to accuse him, to call him a coward. “I need to tell you who I am. I need to explain everything. But if I do, and you react—if you panic, if you lose control—it’ll kill me instantly. I can’t risk it. Not yet.”

The room was thick with silence. None of the League had ever seen Captain Marvel like this—sweating, shaking, fighting to breathe. He looked unbreakable, but sounded like he was holding himself together by threads.

Superman’s voice was the first to break through, quiet, steady. “Then we’ll help you hold on. As long as it takes. You’re not alone in this.”

But Billy couldn’t stop shaking. Because deep down, he knew the truth: no matter how much trust they gave him, it still came down to one impossible fact.

He was twelve years old.

And if he made the wrong move, the world would lose Captain Marvel forever.

---

Later, the door to his Watchtower quarters slid shut, sealing him off from the world. The silence was suffocating.

Billy collapsed against the wall, the transformation still wrapped around him like a cage. His chest rose and fell too fast, the sparks across his arms twitching in time with his ragged breaths. He pressed both hands into his face, fingers shaking.

“They can’t know. Not yet. Not yet,” he whispered, voice muffled by his palms.

The words echoed wrong in the deep baritone. It wasn’t his voice—it hadn’t been for weeks. The thought made his stomach twist. He wanted to cry, to sob, but Captain Marvel’s throat didn’t break the same way Billy’s did. The body was too steady, too big. The pain didn’t look right on this face.

His breaths came faster. He slid down the wall to the floor, clutching his cape tight like a blanket. His thoughts spiraled.

If I die…

The League loses Captain Marvel.

The world loses its Champion of Magic.

The wizard’s last choice. The only choice.

He gritted his teeth, curling tighter. “There’s no one else,” he whispered again, a mantra that only made the panic worse. “There’s no one else. It’s me or nothing.”

Images flashed in his head—black lightning, a crumbling Rock of Eternity, the void that would follow if the Champion fell too soon. He imagined the timers cutting to zero, League members collapsing one by one, and then his own timer, frozen at four minutes, finally ticking down.

He squeezed his eyes shut. He was twelve. He was just a kid. He was supposed to be at school, supposed to be worrying about homework and whether there’d be food that night. Not this. Not life or death. Not carrying a mantle that had no backup plan.

Billy buried his face in his knees, Captain Marvel’s massive arms wrapping around himself like he could hold in the fear. “I don’t want to die,” he choked. “I don’t want the world to lose him. I don’t want them to lose me.”

The sparks flickered wildly, then dimmed again. The silence pressed back.

For the first time since he’d gotten the powers, the Champion of Magic felt small. Fragile. And terrifyingly alone.

The Watchtower corridors hummed with energy, the faint glow of the timers above each hero marking the relentless passage of seconds. Captain Marvel moved through them, but every step sent sparks dancing along his arms, tiny arcs of uncontrolled lightning snapping across his skin. His chest burned with effort, every muscle strained.

He had almost reached his limit. Every nerve screamed. He couldn’t hold the form much longer.

By the time he reached the meeting room, he was breathing hard, sweat tracing golden rivulets down his temple. He planted himself at the head of the table, forcing his shoulders square, trying to look composed despite the strain.

“Everyone,” he began, voice steady but tight, “I need to speak. It’s important.”

The room went quiet. Even Flash, normally fidgeting, seemed to sense the tension, the crackle of energy barely contained around Marvel.

Billy clenched his fists, sparks flickering along his knuckles. “The reason my timer hasn’t moved like the others… it’s because I’m transformed. My body—well, not the form I’m in right now—is… frozen in the moment I changed. The magic that keeps me like this also holds me in that moment. It’s not normal, and it’s straining me more and more every day.”

Clark’s brow furrowed. “So it’s… literally stuck?”

“Yes,” Billy admitted, voice tight. “It’s like being suspended in time while the rest of the world moves around you. I can’t just stop or let go without… serious consequences. I’m reaching the limit of what I can handle in this form.”

Diana’s hand hovered near her lasso. “So you’re warning us before it becomes a problem.”

Billy nodded, forcing a grim smile. “Exactly. I need you to understand that this isn’t a small thing. The longer I stay transformed, the harder it is to keep it together. And if I push too far… it could all go wrong.”

The room was quiet, the usual chatter and bravado of the League gone. They could see it—the tension in his shoulders, the sweat on his brow, the tiny sparks flickering across his skin. Captain Marvel, unshakable and mighty, was straining under invisible weight.

Billy took a deep breath, forcing the heroic mask back over the fear and exhaustion. “I can’t revert yet. Not safely. I just… needed you to know that. Because when the time comes, it won’t be simple.”

Even as he spoke, the sparks flickered stronger, dancing erratically along his arms. Every second he stayed like this was a fight—not for the world, not for the League—but just to keep himself alive.

The Watchtower was quiet, too quiet for the room full of heroes. The glow of shifting numbers hung over each of their shoulders, ticking steadily down like a second heartbeat.

Captain Marvel sat with his arms folded, trying to project calm, but there was something off in his expression. His usual grin was missing, his brow furrowed just enough for anyone paying attention to notice. A sheen of sweat traced his temple.

Diana’s eyes narrowed. “You look strained.”

Billy—hidden beneath the mantle of Marvel—forced a smile. “Part of the job. Long day.”

A sharp flicker of golden lightning snapped across his forearm. Too fast to pass off as intentional. He quickly curled his fist, forcing the sparks to die, but the room had already seen it.

“Uh,” Flash muttered, “that didn’t look like a party trick.”

Before Billy could cover, another spark jittered across his shoulder, and when he opened his mouth, his voice faltered mid-word—dropping from that deep, booming bass into something thinner, smaller, before snapping back like a broken recording.

Clark leaned forward, concern written in his face. “You’re glitching.”

Billy stiffened, forcing his shoulders square. “It’s just feedback. Magic burns weird sometimes. I’ve got it handled.”

Batman said nothing, but his stare was like a scalpel, peeling back layers Billy didn’t want exposed.

The silence pressed in thick, every tick of the timers around them hammering in Billy’s ears. The mask of Captain Marvel, godlike and unbreakable, felt like it was cracking across his skin. He couldn’t let them see how close the truth really was.

---

Later, when the meeting dissolved into uneasy planning, Billy found himself alone in the Watchtower’s observation deck. The Earth glowed far below, serene and fragile, while he stood wrapped in a body that wasn’t his.

His reflection in the glass looked heroic, solid, everything the League needed him to be. But behind it… he was still Billy Batson. Twelve. Mortal. And tired.

He pressed his forehead to the glass, shutting his eyes. The lightning inside him hissed and sparked faintly, never still. His chest ached like he’d been holding his breath for months.

If I say it…

He could see it vividly: the word ripping away the godlike figure, leaving only himself—small, bleeding, broken. The wound still waiting for him. No healing. No strength. Just Billy, crumpled and dying.

Would it be instant? Would he have seconds—just enough to choke out a plea for help before the blood ran out?

Would the League be fast enough to save him?

Or would Captain Marvel vanish, leaving a dying child in his place—shattering every secret, every wall he’d built?

Billy clenched his fists, golden sparks stuttering around his knuckles. His breath shook.

I can’t risk it. Not yet.

But the thought circled back like a vulture. What if staying like this is killing me anyway? What if the magic is burning me from the inside out?

He opened his eyes, staring at the glowing planet below. So many lives. So much to protect.

And all he had was four frozen minutes, a body unraveling, and a choice he didn’t dare make.

So recently I've been stuck on ideas for the next chapter of my fanfic I've been writing, but I also want some of your ideas

Also, I need an idea for other fanfics I'll write about Billy, so anything you can give me I'll write it down my my idea list

Recently, I've started a new job, and it has longer hours bc im on winter break, so I don't really have that much time (im 14, but im saving up for university) so I dont have as much time as before but I'll try and get as many words in as possible and start on other works 😅

The Watchtower meeting room was quieter than a tomb.

No one was breathing easy. Not with the ticking in their ears. Not with Marvel’s timer staring them in the face like a guillotine stuck mid-swing.

00:00:04.

It didn’t move.

Batman leaned forward, elbows on the table, studying Marvel with that forensic stare that made everyone else in the room uncomfortable. Interrogation stare.

“Four minutes,” Bruce said slowly. “That’s… not nothing. That’s a trigger waiting to go off.”

“It hasn’t moved,” Clark countered, calm but tense. “Everyone else’s is running. His isn’t. That’s—”

“Unnatural.” Diana’s voice cut like steel. Her hand was clenched around her lasso, resting on the table. “And the magic we fought has already proven unpredictable.” Her blue eyes fixed on Marvel. “Captain. What are you hiding?”

Billy’s throat tightened. He forced a grin — the kind Marvel always wore, charming, bright, a little too casual. “Hide? I don’t hide, I glow. Maybe I’m too dazzling for the spell to—”

“Cut the act,” Bruce snapped.

The words hit harder than any punch.

Billy froze, a little breath rattling out. Around him, the others were staring — Lantern, Flash, J’onn — all with timers ticking above their shoulders. They all had years. Decades. He had four minutes.

And Batman had smelled the lie.

If he said the word now — Shazam — he’d collapse in front of them, Billy Batson bleeding out where Captain Marvel had been. He’d die before anyone could move.

Sweat slid down his temple. He clenched his fists under the table.

The seconds didn’t move. They never moved.

Superman’s voice was softer. “If something’s wrong, we can help you. But we need the truth.”

Billy almost laughed — bitter, shaky. The truth? That their “world’s mightiest mortal” was a twelve-year-old boy who was currently using god-magic as a life support system just to not bleed out in front of them? That four minutes was all that stood between him and a gravestone?

His stomach twisted. “I… can’t.”

The words slipped out before he could swallow them. Quiet. Honest.

That made everyone sit straighter.

“You can’t,” Diana echoed, eyes narrowing.

“Can’t what?” Flash asked.

Marvel swallowed hard, eyes darting to the countdown. It still glowed above him. Four minutes. No more, no less.

“I can’t afford to stop.”

The silence that followed felt like a trap snapping shut.

Batman’s eyes narrowed. “Stop what?”

Billy gripped the edge of the table so tightly his knuckles turned white. His heart was pounding in his ears. The room felt small.

If he said more, everything would unravel. His secret. His life. The thin veil between Billy Batson and Captain Marvel.

And the clock still wasn’t moving.