#a lot of people were worried the pigeon that got grappled was hurt but it's still around. for some reason

[minmos]

this is a great point to consider consider ^ they definitely look like peregrine falcons! to add on: it looks like peregrine falcons' whole hunting strategy is to just slam into things at full speed and stun them. which is nuts! you see their huge talons and you think that's their main weapon.

one of the falcons here got fed up and tried to grapple one of the pigeons a couple days ago, but it doesn't look like she was able to really do much close-range - she only managed to take out some feathers. the pigeons came back the very next day unphased and last i checked are still trying

good news guys. i found a falcon nest cam where two wood pigeons come by several times a day trying to build a new nest on top of the falcon nest. the falcon nest with falcon eggs currently inside of it and two parent falcons guarding it

[jinmukangwrites]

Day 5 (6-17): Aged-up | Mother and son | Brothers

Warnings: near death experiences, drowning, canon typical violence, kidnapping

Note: I felt like I've written a lot of Dick and Damian bonding this week... So I'm switching it out with Jason. I had other things I wanted to write for this prompt, but it got too late at night to write something long. Enjoy this short, hurt/comfort Jason and Damian bonding instead <3

-o-o-o-o-

Damian's only been captured for a few hours... and already he feels more miserable than he has in a long time.

None other than the Penguin stands before him, sneering cheek to cheek as his associates finish tying the knots around chest and the damp wooden pole his back leans against. The sand underneath him is rocky and sharp; he can already feel the curious laps of the returning tide against his tailbone. His hands are restrained behind the pole as well, while his legs are tied by his ankles. He's sitting, and stuck sitting thanks to the rope around his chest.

His head aches, which isn't very surprising considering the thing that got him in this situation was a well placed hit to his skull via a brick.

He didn't mean to get caught. He simply wanted to blow off some steam after getting fed up with Jason while on patrol. Of all people to be paired up with, it had to be Jason. It couldn't have been someone Damian gets along with like Richard, Duke, or Cassandra. It couldn't have been Timothy where they at least know when boundaries are being pushed with their banter. It couldn't have even been Stephanie, where she's at least funny.

No, the entire family was there, and Damian got paired with the one he doesn't know how to deal with. He got annoyed by the constant, demeaning tone Jason would use on him, and after one too many backhanded insults that only Jason found funny, Damian snapped. He doesn't even remember what exactly was said, he just knows he yelled at Jason to go on without him, and Jason didn't stop him when he turned the other direction.

Thinking back on it, Damian probably insulted him back, and the reason he let Damian go was because he was just as annoyed as Damian was.

It doesn't matter now. What matters is that he didn't intend to stumble upon the Penguin and his goons in some warehouse by the coast. He was just going to take down a few classic muggers or something of similar nature and go back to Jason and act like the argument never happened.

He intended to go back and tell his father about the Penguin's actions, but he didn't notice a pigeon until he almost stepped on it. Startled, it flew up at his face and he fell backwards right through the already broken skylight. He barely managed to slow his fall with his grappling gun, but he still hit the ground pretty hard. Hurt and surprised, he didn't have time to even stand up before the brick was smashed against his skull.

And now he's here, under Gotham's docks, being tied to a poll while the Penguin laughs to himself.

"I'll just let the tide kill you for me," he says to himself, yet his idiot goons still cackle. Damian glares at them, but they only laugh harder, sending down their own insults until the ocean water begins to pool up to Damians toes.

The Penguin makes a remark that it's time to go, and that he doesn't want to get his new dress shoes messy, and then they're gone, leaving Damian to attempt to tug on the ropes holding him against the pole. He tries to reach for the small blades he keeps in the compartments of his gloves, but his fingers come away empty. Curse Gotham's Rogues and their ability to actually use their brains and disarm their captives when they get their hands on them.

He strains harder on the ropes now, twisting and trying to reach any knots with his fingers, but all he succeeds in doing is cutting off the circulation to his hands and pressing the rope into his chest.

He relaxes with a frustrated huff and glares at the water that's already risen a few inches to ripple close to his hips. He knows that not long from now, the water will be above his head.

For now, it's freezing, and once it reaches his fingers, escape will become all the more impossible thanks to numbing appendages.

He tugs on the ropes, then tugs some more, and he keeps going until he has to stop and let the blood come back to his fingers.

The water continues to rise, seeping through his suit and into his bones, rising to his fingers, then his arms, then his shoulders... It's when it finally touches his chin when the despair and terror finally settles.

He can't get out. He can't get out. The ropes feel no more loose than what they were when he began trying to undo them, and his fingers are so numb now they must be turning blue under his gloves. His jaw aches from his chattering teeth, and his nose is beginning to run.

He pulls desperately on his bonds now, his attempts to escape becoming more and more reckless the longer he sits here. He's hyper-aware of the movement of the water around him, and his panic is making it difficult to breathe.

Through his terror, he hears something. The motor of a bike. He hears the engine cut out nearby. He can probably shout for help.

It's his last hope. He can only pray that whoever came to the docks at this hour of night, that they are friendly. He opens his mouth to yell for assistance, but he chokes when sea water enters his mouth. He scrambles his bound feet against the rocky sand, attempting to lift himself up the pole just a little higher, but he doesn't go anywhere. The ropes are too tight.

He's not sure if the water near his eyes is from him flailing in the water, or if it's because of frightened tears. Either way, he can feel the water tickling his nose, and he only has a split second to suck in one last breath of air before the water rises above any means to breath.

"Robin?" A deep voice shouts, and Damian could sob at the irony of it. "You here?"

Someone came looking for him, but they don't know where he is. He's going to drown under the feet of someone who could have saved him if they had come just minutes before.

The water rises over his head now, and he can no longer hear anything besides the racing of his heart. He can't feel his fingers or toes anymore, and he's sure he will drown with bruises under the ropes on his chest.

He's going to drown. He's going to die. His lungs hurt, already his oxygen is running out. He's panicking and it's cold and he's going to die-

He doesn't know how much longer he holds his breath, only that eventually, his mouth opens against his will and sucks in water that may as well be fire going into his lungs.

Black creeps into his vision... and with the last sight of dark bubbles erupting around him, he loses consciousness.

-o-o-o-o-

He wakes up vomiting. A strong hand wraps around his arm and holds him on his side so he can empty his lungs and stomach of salty sea water. It feels like his insides are being torn apart, but eventually it calms down a little so he can finally suck in a gasp of air.

The hand on his arm becomes two, snaking around his shoulder blades to sit him up and squeeze him against a broad chest.

"Holy shit," a familiar voice gasps, "Jesus fuck."

"J'son..." Damian murmurs, trying to make sense of what's going on. His throat feels abused, and his head pounds like drums. He's so tired, his eyes begin to drop.

"Nah don't you fucking think of it," Jason growls, pulling him away from his chest and giving him a hard shake. Damian blinks, trying to focus. Jason brings a hand up and brushes his dripping hair from his face.

Then, it all comes back to him. The tide... The water... He was drowning...

He thought he died.

But here he is, untied from the pole and on the docks, looking at Jason's bare and dripping face with his helmet castaway on the ground. He must have given him mouth-to-mouth... And his chest aches like he's taken a beating. Must be the combined bruises of the ropes and from chest compressions.

He's suddenly overwhelmed with emotions, all of his fear slamming right into him.

"You came," he croaks, not sure if it's because of his abused respiratory system or if it's because of his rekindled tears.

Jason's face twists, then he pulls Damian back in to squeeze him tightly once again. The hug is a surprise, and it hurts, but Damian doesn't fight it. He's too relieved and scared and confused and ashamed to fight it.

"When you didn't answer the comms, I thought you were still mad," Jason explains. The rumble of his voice in his chest against Damian's cheek is oddly relaxing. "But then it started getting late and I didn't feel right, so I asked Babs for your coords and- fuck- I thought I got you killed."

"How did you know...?" Damian asks, not willing to go further into the sentence and endure the pain of his throat.

Jason gives a laugh, and it's almost hysterical. "A lucky guess? I don't know, I guess it's just habit to look in the water when something goes wrong at the docks." There's a pause. Then Jason releases Damian once again. "I'm sorry. I said some things I shouldn't have. This wouldn't have happened if I kept my cool."

Damian shakes his head. It doesn't matter now. "You came."

Jason's lips twitch. "Of course I did. We're... Brothers. Even if we don't get along all the time, I still don't want anyone beating you up other than me."

Damian let's out a laugh, though it dissolves into a fit of coughs. Jason rubs his back during all of it, then once he calms down he helps him to his feet.

"C'mon," he says, "let's get you back home so Alfred can check on you. The sooner we get back, the sooner I can get getting yelled at out of the way for letting you go off on your own."

He helps Damian up to his feet, and Damian gratefully clutches to his jacket to steady himself. "I am to blame too. Once we tell father you helped save me, he will be less angry."

Jason snorts. "You think I'm worried about the old man? It's Dick I'm worried about."

"Ah," Damian grins, all the fear finally ebbing out from his system. "I'm afraid I cannot help you there."

Jason helps Damian onto the bike and returns his helmet so it's over his head. He holds Damian in front of him with one arm securely around his chest as he drives. He feels safe nestled against Jason like this. It's strong and unyielding. His relationship with the older man has always been strange, considering they weren't always on the same sides when Richard was Batman.

But this? This is safe. It's warm. Is careful and gentle. Normally he'd be embarrassed to be so vulnerable like this near Jason, but like Jason said... They're brothers.

He cannot help but feel a little disappointed once they finally make it back to the cave. Yet it seems he's misjudged Jason once again, because after he was rushed to the med-bay and Jason got an earful from Richard... he fell asleep and awoke the next morning with Jason still there.

Things may not be perfect with Jason, and they argue a lot, but Damians sure things have a chance of becoming better.

They're brothers, after all.

[beyondthetemples-ooc]

Unforeseen and Unforesaken

Chapter 5 in Dove’s debut story is now live! Anyone like Teen Titans OCs with social anxiety, connections to Azarath, magic, and a secret? (Story takes place in a world that blends 80′s New Teen Titans canon with the 2003 cartoon, heavier on the latter.)

And then, voice low, hanging back for a moment of discussion, Robin reminded them: "We still don't know if Dove is who she says she is. This is the perfect opportunity to learn more about her. And the sooner she settles in her own space, the sooner she'll be comfortable enough to talk to us."

An old friend, Dove’s avian companion, arrives on the island, and after their reunion, Raven helps Dove retrieve a box of items forgotten in the forest. 

Really? Dove reportedly had a violent premonition of utter devastation, the instantaneous death of a thousand people at the hands of an other-dimensional demon, and in response to such a dire threat, Dove had chosen to rescue that?

Then, arranging Dove’s room turns into a team effort complete with stories of Dove’s family history, while Dove unveils relics of her life in Azarath.

Nobody would deny that affixing wallpaper was much easier when you had two teammates in the air, a geographically calibrated laserpoint that doubles as a leveling beam, an octopus, and a grappling gun. 

Fanfic.net and AO3 links here: https://beyondthetemples-ooc.tumblr.com/post/627828457818226689/unforeseen-chapter-5-links

Chapter 5: Home Improvement

"Raven?"

Dove's quiet voice broke the silence of their coached meditation session gently—though when Raven opened her eyes, Dove was scrambling up and looking outside with her face practically pressed against the glass.

"Can we go outside?"

"I thought we agreed on two full hours of meditation," Raven sighed. It had hardly been a half hour—

"I already meditated this morning," Dove answered distantly, obviously distracted.

Raven looked up at her in genuine confusion. If it was such a struggle for her, more practice couldn't hurt. But... "Why didn't you tell me you already finished?"

When Dove looked over her shoulder, her chin was dipped timidly and her voice even more fragile than before. "Because I... like meditating with you...?"

"And why is that?"

"It's easier," Dove shrugged, eyes dropping in embarrassment. "Your calm is so... perfect. So steady. A lot deeper than mine..."

...well, she supposed there could be worse reasons... Still debating on whether she wanted to allow this flexibility in their training schedule, or if that would undermine the concept of discipline, she asked, "Why do you want to go outside?"

"Sieara."

"Sieara," Raven repeated flatly.

"Yes, Sieara! Raven, I think she's out there!" The excitement in her voice was subtle but genuine.

"And you want to check?"

"Yes! I—" Dove bit her lip, practically plastering herself against the window again. "We have a bond. A connection. Like the one I had with my mother, except—" She cut herself off there and shook her head before she could tempt any memories, or emotions. "I'm worried about her, Raven. She... She feels weak, and... I..." There her voice trailed off uncertainly, and she turned to her trainer, deferring to her permission but also with a thinly veiled plea and concern in her eyes.

Something instinctive told Raven it was warranted. "I guess. Just don't make a habit of interrupting training. These sessions are important."

Dove nodded swiftly and practically ran to the door—though she had to pause there because she barely knew how to get to the living room, and she hadn't gone back to the entrance since the moment she set foot in here. She had to wait for Raven to lead.

Luckily Raven seemed to pick up on her urgency and led them to the door with a hurried pace, but the moment they were outside Dove's eyes were wide and alert, and she turned left immediately and shot off, stumbling once on the unfamiliarly rocky slope but she managed to keep her balance. "I think she's this way!"

"Don't get too excited," Raven reminded her, following just quickly enough to keep up.

"But, Raven, she's—!" Dove's expression sank and her heart clenched when they neared the shore—and neared the small spot of white against the deep green and brown of the earth. "She's hurt..."

The bird was laying still on the rock, eyes open, but her chest heaving quickly under disheveled feathers and she seemed to blink her eyes on every other breath.

"How hurt?" Though empathy could have told her enough, Raven was busy focusing on the waves of emotion shifting through Dove's mind. Hesitance and investigating disbelief, quickly overruled by elated relief and frightened worry playing tug of war on a field of affectionate love.

She didn't know it was possible to feel so much for such a small bundle of feathers... but Dove obviously did. Even though she bit her lip and breathed through her nose, still smiling but trying not to feel too frightened or excited.

"Sieara, thank Azar you're alive..." She was afraid to pick her up, but she reached out and stroked her feathers, and the frail bird stirred at her touch before letting out a weak and smooth chirrup.

"...hurt," Dove analyzed, physical contact clarifying the empathy just well enough that she could interpret what her senses told her. "One wing's hurt... and she's so scared. I think something tried to attack her, and she crashed when she tried to land... Raven?"

Dove looked up, and Raven looked up as well. Something about the bird's mind seemed... strangely human, but before she could dwell, she read the hesitant hope in Dove's eyes, and sighed. "I can help," she consented. Animals felt pain and fear as much as any human, Raven knew that—and they could be healed just the same, too.

So she picked up the bird, exhausted and weak, but very much alive, and they attempted to heal her. (Or, Raven healed her while Dove tried, then failed, and thanked her profusely and focused on choking back tears of relief.)

The moment she could stir without her breast bone aching, Sieara blinked up at Raven, as if startled, then she wriggled energetically in the empath's hands, reaching for Dove immediately. Raven let her go; the bird fluttered straight to Dove's shoulder; and Dove's eyes lit with joy and unending relief.

She immediately reached up to stroke her. "I missed you," she crooned softly, letting the bird settle close against her neck. It was so good to feel her claws gripping her shoulders again, so good to have her oldest friend back after being separated and so, so very worried.

Crisis averted, there was time for observations and questions. Like any other Azarathean dove, Sieara was just small enough to fit in Raven's cupped hands, not nearly the size of a Jump City pigeon but still larger than most doves. And her feathers had looked pure white, except for the flash of purple Raven swore she saw when Sieara took flight. That wasn't normal. And something about it reminded her of... magic?

Dove glanced up when she felt the subtle shifts in Raven's guarded mind. "You... can probably tell she's not really a normal bird," she suggested uncertainly.

Raven nodded.

Dove went back to stroking the bird, affection and fondness in her eyes even as they went distant with memory. "She's not. Not anymore. Srentha put a spell on her," she explained. "That was my friend, Srentha... He made it so she could think like a human and understand more of our world... And he changed her tail, just for fun. So now her tail changes color with her emotions. Azar's magic and all... It was amazing what he could teach me in just ten minutes..." Dove sighed at a lighthearted memory of him showing her a simple illusion spell, grinning at the memory of his wild, silvery hair glowing with a green-golden tint and his utter elation at such a simple wonder.

The dove nibbled her hair, tugging her back to Earth. Lovingly.

Dove blinked. "Now she's... more intelligent than most birds. He made it so she'd glow if she was near anything magical. And cast a spell that allows her to sense magic and track it, and so many other things he never had the chance to explain..."

Magically enhanced mind or not, Raven groaned internally at the thought of having yet another pet roaming the Tower. "Just don't expect me to clean up after her."

Since then, the loyal bird never seemed to leave Dove's shoulder—except to sleep of course (and even that was speculation). It was like she was afraid to lose her again.

But for the moment:

An awkward, concerned glance across the river shifted Dove's attention from the bird. "Um, while we're out here... I did leave a box of things in the forest..."

"And you left them all the way in the forest, because?"

"I thought they were safe. And... I, kind of... forgot."

"How, exactly?"

Dove shrugged, too uncomfortable to meet her eyes. "I hadn't slept well. I had a nightmare, and... and I just wanted to get there—Get here. And by the time I remembered, I-I was already an entire day away. I thought I could go back, and, and get them, eventually..." Distant, somehow fragile helplessness came into her as the words trickled to a stop for a beat of withdrawn silence, until her voice murmured forth like a haunted shadow of what her explanation had been.

"Those things didn't seem important, when I thought I was going to die."

Raven's eyes shifted from bored, to... dare she admit it, sympathetic? "If you chose to bring them across the dimensional boundaries, they must be pretty important."

Dove nodded.

"Well? Where are we going?"

Dove blinked up from her introspective trance. "Uhhhm... Across the city..."

Had she already forgotten how far that was? "We'd better start walking."

That signature uneasiness was back yet again. "Oh. Uhhm... Yeah."

Twenty minutes of walking later, when they'd barely stepped off the bridge, Raven knew Dove really wasn't kidding about that whole "not good with people" thing. Hiding behind her, fleeing their gaze, ducking out of sight... and they hadn't even crossed the beach.

"We'll never get there at this rate."

Dove's gaze fell under the weight of embarrassment. "Sorry..."

"You have got to stop saying that."

(She just pulled her cloak and shoulders in tighter.)

"Maybe we should circumvent the city."

Raven used this as an opportunity to help Dove with her levitation problems, but it ended in disaster; Dove couldn't get in the air, couldn't ease her nerves, couldn't even move straight... and then nearly knocked herself out trying to land in the forest between two trees, and only making it into the first.

Poor Sieara had shot from her perch and was fluttering anxiously from branch to branch, curr-cooing worriedly until Dove opened her eyes.

Once they were sure the crash didn't result in a concussion, Raven helped Dove carry the wooden container into the Tower, both girls using telekinesis—well, mostly Raven; Dove spent most of the journey nearly dropping herself to the ground, she couldn't possibly hold up the box too.

But they made it back alive.

Once they were in her room, safely grounded, Raven watched Dove kneel beside the crate, her eyes distant and her hand resting on its lid.

"Aren't you going to unpack it?"

Dove asked, "Where would I put everything?"

"Good point," Raven conceded after scanning the empty room. "Any ideas?"

Dove blinked up at her in confusion. "For what?"

"Shelving. Tables. Places to put your precious... things. Setting up the room, to be your room."

Dove's eyes lit up—she had never been able to change her surroundings, personalize any place she lived... She never even had her own room before! "Um... I think so. Yeah, actually."

But where to begin?

Only another moment's hesitation, and Dove voiced that she might, maybe, need a shelf? "I used to read three new books every week," she told Raven. "I love reading..."

The gaze Raven responded with was uncertain, half understanding, half bewildered.

They seemed more similar every day.

"Until you have books to fill it with..."

They later moved forward at Robin's suggestion: Using a catalog to find and order her decorations. It didn't take long for everyone to notice Dove's choices were based on peace, safety, and security, no physical thing in particular. Dove wanted it to remind her of Azarath. Which made it a lot harder for the others to make suggestions, but Dove seemed quite certain of what "like Azarath" entailed.

Raven seemed to mysteriously disappear before Dove could explain to the others exactly what Azarath was like, and Dove's throat closed around any attempt to talk about it, anyways.

Everyone had downtime when the shipment arrived, and so Robin called it moving day.

"Is the Moving Day yet another one of your Earthly hollering days?"

Robin explained patiently: "It's not a holiday, Starfire. It just means we're going to help Dove move her new things in."

Beast Boy groused, "When did it become moving day?"

And Robin leveled, "When the shipment arrived and proved we need to help Dove assemble everything she ordered."

"But we had a five-hour gaming marathon scheduled for two o'clock!"

"Yeah, and it's almost two o'clock!" Cyborg tapped the digital readout on his wrist.

Their leader checked the other two before elaborating; Raven was thoroughly engaged in lecturing Dove through another attempt at telekinesis with the smallest, lightest box, and Dove was indeed focusing on the task so hard, her steps were stiff with auto-piloting and tension.

And then, voice low, hanging back for a moment of discussion, Robin reminded them: "We still don't know if Dove is who she says she is. This is the perfect opportunity to learn more about her. And the sooner she settles in her own space, the sooner she'll be comfortable enough to talk to us."

Robin ran up to them eagerly. "Hey! It's best to leave the boxes out here. We should personalize the walls before you get the furniture in."

Dove looked almost as exasperated as Raven, and twenty times as breathless. "You mean... I brought—the boxes... up here, and we... We can't use them—?"

"Not now. But don't worry, it wasn't for nothing. It's just going to be a little later than you thought."

Raven said, "We could use the break."

(Dove sighed at her use of "we", wishing such a simple task hadn't been so frustrating.)

Robin quickly took the role of impromptu project manager, and everyone in the tower pitched in.

The first thing they changed when she moved in was the color; Dove preferred it to be soft on the eyes, with a dark blue carpet on the floor and the ceiling dark green with stick-on clouds, accented with a multi-colored galaxy on the wall opposite her window, a custom commission she had fallen in love with especially for its reminiscence of Azarath's skies. The moment her lamp was plugged in, she began to forgo the (recently-repaired) ceiling light entirely, and instead kept it lit by that soft, golden glow.

Nobody would deny that affixing wallpaper was much easier when you had two teammates in the air, a geographically calibrated laserpoint that doubles as a leveling beam, an octopus, and a grappling gun.

Dove, largely unable to fly, or move anything useful, or assemble shelving, or generally help in any way, didn't know what to do and mostly stood off to the side awkwardly... until, at Robins' suggestion, she drew up a vague yet surprisingly recognizable draft of the furnished room in the pen and notepad he produced from his belt, with labels to give them an idea of their goal.

Then it was time to assemble the shelves. Beast Boy nearly tripped over the crate while handing Robin a screwdriver and danced around it with the slightest flail of his arms. "Hey, what's in this box?"

Dove pulled it into her lap and sat on the bed. "Well..." She began unpacking its contents—thus revealing the contents of her previous life.

A knee-jerk surge of pragmatic responsibility rose in Raven's mind: We should probably get back to work...

...but a moment later her curiosity and suspicion won out; she couldn't help wanting to learn everything she could about the younger Azarathean.

The first thing Dove took out (and held with the most careful and reverent touch) was a small golden statue of an Azarathean dove. The base curved out like the foot of a wine glass and fit perfectly cupped in Dove's palm. The bird had its wings outspread, and they were so meticulously detailed, the individual feathers shined clearly, with its fanned tail making it seem like the bird would soar right from Dove's hand as she held it on her open palm.

Really? Dove reportedly had a violent premonition of utter devastation, the instantaneous death of a thousand people at the hands of an other-dimensional demon, and in response to such a dire threat, Dove had chosen to rescue that? Raven couldn't wrangle her disbelief. "Why would you bring something so... small?"

The sincerity strengthening Dove's voice indicated no small significance. "It relaxes me, and helps me remember happier times... It was my mother's favorite, and mine, too. My grandmother added the base for my mother's hands. It was crafted from pure Azarathean gold, and decorated with textures that are just... so breathtakingly realistic; she carved it by hand and magic, Raven. Bringing it to Earth was like saving a piece of Azarath. And my mother. It... keeps me calm."

Raven could only wonder what it was like, to have so much sentiment attached to a family heirloom.

And... Had Dove really said so many words at once, without a single gasp or stutter? Maybe there really was some steadying magic in the little golden bird.

It seemed Dove was blissfully oblivious to her musing. But after another breath, gentle and sighing, she finally put the figure down (just beside her, right up against her leg), and pulled out a larger gold item wrapped in so much familiarly formative, grounding, internalizing magic, Raven's attention snapped raptly alert.

Dove was holding a mirror. A modestly-sized hand mirror, with a golden rim carved to look like outspread wings and the handle turned into an outspread tail. Closer inspection revealed gold-rimmed wood in a very delicate hue, carved with filamental mystic whorls arranged in layers of 3 reaching from the glass to its wing-tips and tail.

Raven's astonishment, and the immediate yelp and recoil Beast Boy and Cyborg performed in unison once they saw it, made Dove giggle a note or two, and she put it on the bedside table. A moment of consideration, and she told them, "My mother made it by hand, but used magic too..." Then she gave Raven a glance, with a sheepish, tiny grin, and a confession. "She heard about yours, how it helps you with meditation, and we both really liked the idea. Since it's... hard for me to meditate on my own..."

Next Dove pulled out a well-worn, hard-bound book with care and set it beside her on the bed. "My mother used to read it to me all the time..."

Two more books sat beneath it, and then Dove took out a gently-used journal, two notebooks both she and her mother filled, a tome she declared came from her grandmother, a few scrolls from the same woman, and a lightly used journal or two, the bound items sometimes small and seemingly insignificant, but always inked with Azarathean calligraphy.

"For poetry, not agenda, or... keeping track of all the bad things that happen," Dove explained quietly. "Nothing special..." She sighed, then took out the rest of the box's contents: another book, a few crumbling leaves with a refreshing scent, and a bag of dried vegetables and grains for Sieara. And then the box was empty.

"These things bring back so many memories... I just wish I wasn't in such a rush to get out of there and had said goodbye to Srentha."

"At least you weren't killed by—"

"I know," Dove cut her off hurriedly, almost CHOKED it, as if the thought stung her. "But it still hurts to know I'll never see him again..."

Raven echoed, "Srentha. Why does that name sound familiar?"

"You lived in the temple, right? He was the high-magistrate's grandson."

"I... didn't even know Coman had a child, let alone a grandchild."

"Me neither, until Srentha showed up. He spent most of his life training in the libraries, locked away from the rest of the world..."

Raven sensed an aching pain, a loneliness so deep it had to have come from shared experience. Her brows contracted with her own empathy, ever so slightly.

"Srentha was like a brother to me... but, now, all I have left of him is my memories."

"Hold them close," Raven advised calmly. "They're as precious now as they were then."

Dove nodded—glanced away...

She was looking for a distraction. Seeing wisdom in that, Raven offered, "We should probably put these away."

Dove nodded and picked up the books before setting them on the single bedside shelf. Then she took the statue and the ingredients in her hands thoughtfully, and put the ingredients on the middle shelf, the statue next to the books.

She continued her impromptu stories as she set them in place. "My grandmother wrote this one. She was very powerful with magic, and she was even an advisor to our leader, but she caused too many arguments among the council, experimented with things we really weren't supposed to do, and she wound up exiled. So she wrote her experiments down here instead. She had kept it hidden away for years, until the Azaratheans banished her, and then, it was almost two decades before she sent it back 'home' in my mother's hands when she sent her back to Azarath. I inherited it the moment I knew, that... my mother was going to die. And... she knew I wasn't."

Nobody complained that she wasn't helping them, because it was keeping them all entertained. Who knew Dove had such a family history?

Dove's gaze was distanced, but a frail smile graced her lips, like she didn't mind recounting such stories one bit. "And this one..." She withdrew a small band in a bright golden yellow, runes inscribed on its outer surface—

Wait, Beast Boy knew that ring! His elephant form perked up just enough to bumble into the smaller shelf Robin was inspecting, they jumped back and it tottered—

"WHOOOA!" Cyborg cried out and braced to steady it. "Watch it, Dumbo!" He shot Beast Boy a disgruntled glare.

Beast Boy whirled back to human form and rubbed his neck. "Heh heh, my bad. So, uhh. Who else is thirsty?"

Robin looked over. "I could definitely use a drink."

Starfire chimed, "A glass of mustard would be MOST refreshing!"

He zoomed right out to prepare.

With a nod of approval at his and Cyborg's handiwork, Robin turned from the shelf to see what had distracted him... and he also recognized that decorated gold band immediately. "So. Another Ring of Azar, huh?"

"How did you get that?"

Dove cringed at Raven's sudden demand. "From Azar. It was treasured by my grandmother... Magena. That's who I told you about—"

"Why did you keep it?"

Dove's voice suddenly went very, very quiet. "It felt important. Like I needed it."

"What do you need with something that powerful?"

"Protection. Calm... Guidance. After my mother's—When she; I-I— I..."

Raven remained sharply withdrawn against the wall, arms crossed, head low. But her quiet voice was sharp and unyielding as steel.

"What do you know of protection?"

Dove's mouth hung open, speechless and helpless in the face of her honesty... until she just dropped her gaze, and surrendered to silence.

"Ooookay." The awkward tension was broken by Cyborg. "Things are gettin' a little heated in here."

"Who wants some nice, cold, fresh-from-the-fridge chilled-out iced tea!"

Beast Boy reentered with a big tray filled with overly sweetened lemonade and extra-cold, extra-iced iced tea.

The others took it readily, but he had to directly offer it to their new roommate. "Tea, right?"

Dove only took it because he offered so exuberantly, and she nodded, so he handed the glass off with an especially excited smile.

"Bet you've never had tea like that."

Which piqued her curiosity and led Dove to taste it once, twice—and then cough at how sweet it was until tea came dribbling out her nose.

Beast Boy promptly erupted in laughter, and Raven rolled her eyes.

Meanwhile, Starfire sipped from her own glass of much thicker liquid, and with the room littered in empty boxes and packaging plastic, their mission for the day seemed to be completed. "Have we completed the improvement of your home to satisfaction?"

Dove nodded.

Cyborg's appraisal led to curiosity. "Now how is she going to fill a shelf that big with those tiny things?"

"Well," Raven offered, "she said she likes to read..."

"Ooh!" Beast Boy volunteered, "I have these awesome animal books I could show you!"

Dove tilted her head. "I liked a couple stories with animals."

Eyes shining, he smugly specified: "These aren't just stories, and they're all about the animals!"

Cyborg, in response to her blank-faced blinking: "What, you've never read a biology book before?"

Dove hesitated a moment, uncertain—then decided she must not have, and shook her head.

"What do you read?"

"I... like poetry, and mythology?"

Starfire leapt into the air, her smile ELATED! "Oh, I too enjoy the logging of myths, and rhyming words! There are so many beautiful and thrilling tales I can share from my home planet."

"I'd... like to read them... If that would be okay?"

Beast Boy nudged her. "Only if you want to spend like fourteen hours listening to the Tale of woober-snitzel or whatever."

Dove's face blanked. "Fourteen hours?"

"No exaggeration."

Robin suggested, "Maybe we'll take a trip downtown, show you the library."

Dove's eyes were then openly delighted, though her voice stayed modest as ever. "I think I'd like that. Can we go now?"

"The library won't be open when it's 11 at night."

Raven added, "And we do have a training session in seven hours."

Only the low-toned flatness in her voice betrayed her dread, but three of her four teammates groaned audibly.

"Guess we better get some sleep."

Robin stalled, "There's just one more thing." Dove watched quizzically as he rushed from the room, quickly becoming aware that she was the only one confused, and she almost started to dread his return.

But when he returned shortly, it was to offer her a pyramidal stack bound in ribbon with a big white bow in the center. "There's one from each of us."

Taking the pile from him revealed the stack to be five books. Dove's eyes were wide, her brow furrowed, and after pulling the ribbon aside, and staring at them in silent wonder, processing the shock and depths of gratitude, her arms wrapped around the small bundle, and she clutched them close to her chest. "Thank you. Thank you so much, I—I don't know what to say."

"Welcome home," Robin smiled.

She nodded, she smiled, and then she set them all on the shelf immediately, already debating which to read first.

As she stepped back to admire them, Cyborg surveyed the space. "Well, it's not exactly magazine material, but it's looking good."

Now that they finally finished setting up the small room, it was sparsely decorated but with plenty of personality. A big wall-sized shelf housed Dove's cherished books both old and new, a hanging censer from a new-age catalog awaited its smoldering incense, the small bedside table bore a drawer, her bed (and new rounded wraparound headboard) was centered on the back wall with a smaller shelf on its other side, and her big, thick black curtain was hung and prepared to cover the window behind it whenever she wanted to lock out the light.

Her shelves had a slight elegant curve to them (which to her felt like an homage to Azarathean architecture), and they were sparsely cluttered with books. Just a dozen now, but to her they meant everything in the world.

There was also her bed frame, of course, outfitted with a flat wooden headboard rising towards the ceiling, outlined with light gold accents, shaped into dual mounds that wrapped around the mattress with a peak between them, like a bird lifting its beak skyward, holdings its wings down and nearly embracing the mattress, calming and protectively. It surrounded a spacious queen-size with about five pillows and three separate blankets—Dove obviously treasured coziness and comfort. The bedside table was small and elegant with light decorations, silver and gold; her mindscape mirror rested on its surface, along with a notebook and pen, and inevitably it would hold a book she wasn't busy reading just then.

The whole place was very tidy, mostly because she didn't have much to clutter it with, and Dove imagined she would only ever use one thing at a time and tenderly set it back to safety at night, anyways.

It was wonderful. And Dove finally felt like, maybe, she could start to feel at HOME here.

"You'll feel just like a member of the team in no time."

Dove just bit her lip and shook her head slowly. She'd never dreamed they'd accept her so openly...

Then again, they didn't know what she had to hide.

[arigatouiris]

daughter of artemis // p.p — [07]

c h a p t e r  s e v e n

Pairing: Peter Parker x Demigod! Reader [Female pronouns]

Warnings: swearing; angst [a lot of it]; greek mythology rewritten [completely my interpretation of it, oops]; slightly based off the games god of war and assassin’s creed odyssey; hurt/comfort; cliche; fluff [on later chapters sometimes]; mentions of sex and gore; slight alternate universe

Follows events after Endgame, but Tony, Natasha, Steve, Loki are alive in this universe.

Author’s Note: Ohohoho~ Finally a proper reveal! Let me know what you guys think! Also, this story may follow FFH plotline (I haven’t watched it yet, I’ve got a show for tomorrow since being an adult sucks and I have no choice but to wait till the weekend to watch it). Anyway, hope you guys like this chapter!

Word count: 4193

07 // θυμός anger

❅

That day she waited for class to end, but didn’t seem too impatient about it. Sitting back, she waited till everyone left class so that it would be easier for her to spot the Hyena janitor. The Hyena henchman was the only henchman who hadn’t seen her, even back in Olympus. So there was no way for him to find out who she was. (y/n) sat back, opened the newest book she was reading, and simply waited. Everyone was already eager to leave, and it would happen soon enough.

However, she felt a presence appear before her. Presence of two, if she was precise. Looking up, her heart skipped a beat as she met the gaze of Peter Parker, and his best friend, Ned Leeds. Smiling instantly, and trying to cover up any signs that she recognized him, she waited for him to say something first.

She still couldn’t believe that she had found him. His eyes were just as they were in her vision; brown and warm, a hug that was invisible whenever he looked at her. He represented all things soft and caring, especially with how awkward he was with his own introduction. She didn’t know who he was to her, but there was something about Peter Parker that made her feel at ease. After all, all those years ago, she held onto his vision as something that comforted her; all those nights she couldn’t sleep, she grappled onto Peter Parker’s brown eyes for comfort.

All of which, he had no idea about.

    “What’s up, Peter Parker?” She liked saying his whole name, like a character off a book that you grow to like as soon as they are mentioned.

    “Ned and I were thinking if you'd maybe, want to watch Star Wars with us?” Ned nodded from the back, looking excited.

She chuckled before cocking her eyebrow confusedly, before tilting her head a bit. Peter looked at Ned who ushered to her once again, impatiently.

    “The movies. They are simply amazing, (y/n).” Peter said, grinning.

    “Especially the fifth and sixth ones.”

    “So many chilling moments.”

    “Even though the prequels might be questionable, Obi Wan makes everything bearable—”

    “Oh and the fights!”

    “Can’t forget how badass Yoda is in those moments.”

    “And I actually like Rey a lot, despite the whole commotion.”

    “It’s like when women are shown as strong in movies, people just get offended and call them names like ‘Mary Sue’ or whatever—”

    “Peter.” (y/n) said, giggling, forcing both of them to stop rambling, and look at her with red faces.

    “So, what do you say?” Peter asked, and she noticed the nervousness in his voice.

Her heart broke as she said, “I can’t today, Peter. I’m sorry.”

For some strange reason, the boy read her tone as cold. As if his entire morale fell, he began to understand why people called her intimidating. It wasn’t intimidation as such, it felt as if no one was on par with her. She wasn’t just regular, there was something special about her (he knew she could fight like a badass, but even more than that). Peter couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Stepping back, he understood where he stands. Ned looked over at his friend and understood his disappointment.

    “I’m sorry.” (y/n) said, but that didn’t help.

    “No, it’s fine! I mean—I get it. Well, see you around.” Peter said, his ears red with embarrassment, and his heart shattered.

    “Come on,” Ned whispered and ushered his friend out of class.

(y/n) watched them leave and kept her gaze fixed at the door even after they had left. Pressing her lips together, she looked down and felt terrible on the inside. Even if she wanted to go with them, she knew she couldn’t. She was fighting to be a God! What use was mingling with mortals? Even if she had seen Peter in her vision, there was no way she could become friends with him. She was well past that now.

Peter on the other hand, took it like a proper rejection. He didn’t have a crush on her per se, but he did definitely want to be friends with her. She found it easier to talk to him when she had nothing to share; almost as if she wants everything about her to be a secret. By being friends with Peter Parker and not as Spiderman, she would have to expose herself more than she would have to expose herself to Spiderman.

And even if he understood this, Peter didn’t quite like it. He felt Ned’s hand on his shoulder and turned to his friend with a glum expression.

    “She’s missing out, pal.” Ned said, offering his friend a kind smile.

Peter smiled back and said nothing. There was nothing to say.

❅

Half an hour had passed since Peter and Ned left the classroom. She could hear absolutely nothing from outside, and she knew this was her chance to take a look. Feeling the dagger inside her pocket, she walked out and spotted the janitor near another classroom, far ahead of her own, and watched him.

Taking a couple of steps toward him, she picked up her pace and walked over to the Hyena janitor, wondering if he could spot her and understand it was her he had to kill.

    “Excuse me,” She spoke, alerting the janitor’s attention. He was blonde haired, blue eyed—a grown up version of the Pigeon boy her uncle had shot an arrow through five years ago. “Have you seen a book titled ‘Leaves of Grass’?”

This was bait. She knew she had to make sure. If he responds to her, then he’s out. She knew of the machines Zeus had built, they were incapable of human communication. They had no soul, they had no emotions. They were vessels that were made for one thing and one thing only.

He stared at her and turned away, continuing to clean an impeccably clean spot on the ground. (y/n) watched as the mop twisted and turned on the floor, before shooting her gaze at the janitor again. This is it, she thought, gripping the dagger inside her pocket.

    “You two are such losers.” She heard a girl’s voice, causing her to freeze at spot. Turning to look ahead of the janitor, she saw Peter, Ned and a curly haired girl wearing a sweatshirt, walking toward her.

She blinked before relaxing once more. She noticed Peter’s expression, which was of hurt, before nodding once at him and turning away. Walking as quickly as she could outside the school, (y/n) felt anger surge through her veins. It would have been easy, she thought as she sprinted out of the school.

    “She definitely doesn’t like me.” Peter said, sighing.

MJ looked at him with a funny expression. Turning away from him, she stared at the ground as they continued to walk outside the school. For some strange reason, MJ didn’t like the girl, who was far too secretive for a teenager to be. It wasn’t just because Peter might have been interested.

As soon as (y/n) reaches home, she kicks the door open and lets out a guttural scream. Her face was red with anger, and her hands were shaking. The only way she could calm down was if she went up to her terrace and trained, and that was exactly what she was going to do. Quickly changing out of her jeans, (y/n) wore black tights, with her regular grey tank top, tied tapes around her hands and ran up barefoot.

She liked being barefoot because it reminded her of how she would run, back in Phokis. Heading to her terrace, she brought the punching bag to a standing position and supported it using rails, and started to punch. Tears filled her eyes each time she thought about missing the chance, but there was always tomorrow.

And tomorrow she wouldn’t just leave.

What felt like hours later, she felt a presence behind her. She knew who it was before she could even think words in her mind. However, she ignored Spiderman and continued punching the bag. She knew he could sense her anger, and she knew he must probably be confused as to why she was so angry, but there was no helping it. Even if this was a vulnerable moment for her, and even if Spiderman saw her at her weakest, she couldn’t stop herself. This was her equivalent for crying.

    “(y/n)?” His voice now seemed strangely familiar.

Turning to face him, Peter noticed the dried tears on her face and waited. Why was she crying? What had happened? She was fine when he had approached her that afternoon, what had suddenly caused a drastic change? Worry filled his veins, but he didn’t want to show it. He was still a tad bit bitter with how she had brushed him off earlier, but now he was starting to think if there was a reason to her being cold.

    “Spar with me, Spidey.” She said, tightening the tapes around her hands. Her knuckles were bloody because of all the punches she had thrown, but she didn’t care.

    “What?” He was confused, and not to mention, shocked. Before he could respond any further, (y/n) ran to him and landed a kick on his chest.

Spiderman fell backwards but got up immediately. He wanted her to stop, but with the way she was raging, he knew words would not reach her. So he decided to defend himself against her until she cooled down. But, he made a mistake in calculating if that would be easy. Her speed was incredible, she landed kicks and punches as if she were trained for years. Grabbing Spiderman’s hand, she twisted it behind his back and kicked the back of his knee, forcing him to the ground.

He winced, and she stopped. Breathing heavily, (y/n) let go of his arm and stepped back. She looked at his form on the ground and then looked at her own hands. He wasn’t even fighting back. Blinking away tears, the girl walked over to the edge of the roof and sat down, as she always would, letting her legs dangle below her. Spiderman followed suite, sat beside her, and waited. He didn’t know why he waited, but he knew she wasn’t okay.

He had never seen her this agitated before. He had always seen her calm and collected, sassy whenever he asked her a question about herself that he knew she wouldn’t answer. But right then, (y/n) was being as transparent than she had ever been before. Spiderman thought that was confusing. She bent down and put her face in her hands, and Peter wondered if she was crying.

After several minutes, “Have you watched Star Wars, Spidey?”

Spiderman was taken aback. He knew she was asking him this to avoid talking about whatever was bothering her, so he decided to play along.

    “Yep. The movies are great! Why, haven’t you seen any?”

She shook her head, sitting back up straight. Her lips were pressed together in a thin line. Spiderman continued to talk.  

    “The movies, they’re simply amazing, (y/n).” Peter said, unconsciously.

(y/n)’s eyes widened instantaneously. Turning to Spiderman, she frowned a bit.

    “Oh yeah?” She asked, waiting for more signs.

    “Yes! The storyline is incredible, and my favorite is Empire Strikes Back, it’s the fifth movie. And in the new sequels, there’s a lot of debate going on as to who Rey is and these characters, they’re going to stay with you forever, you know?”

(y/n) smiled softly before putting two and two together. Before she could say his name out loud, Spiderman got up and apologized.

    “There’s been a robbery at 8th street, I have to go!”

(y/n) smiled at him before nodding once. “Go save lives, Spiderman.”

Spiderman, or in simpler terms, Peter Parker in disguise, shot her a thumbs up before jumping away. He’s Spiderman, she thought as she continued to sit there for a while longer. That’s why both of them were in my vision. Spiderman is Peter Parker. Strangely, this didn’t confuse her, neither did it surprise her. It was as if this information was something she had always known but only forgot. Chuckling, (y/n) went back to training some more.

❅

Apollo entered her apartment with food that night. (y/n) stared at him as he made himself comfortable, setting the food on the table and ignoring her presence. She knew what he was doing, she knew why he was there. Walking over to him, she grabbed a box of noodles and walked away, not saying a word. Apollo glared at her, before deciding to break the silence.

    “What is wrong with you?”

    “People are going to find out you and I are related.” (y/n) said, rolling her eyes and opening the box of noodles.

    “That’s not as problematic as them finding out you’re not entirely human.”

She scoffed before replying, “They won’t,” taking a whole mouthful of noodles, she continued, “I’ve been careful.”

    “Oh really? Then who’s the weird spider suit boy you’ve been chummy with?”

She froze. Looking up at her uncle, and giving him the nastiest glare she could conjure, “He’s a friend. And we know nothing about each other.”

    “Right—”

    “His identity is a secret, and so is mine. We just talk about animals and other stupid stuff.”

Apollo took out his own box of noodles and sat opposite of where his niece was sitting. He was currently wearing a white tee-shirt, casual shorts and his hair was a mess. It didn’t matter, Apollo was a Greek God, he looked handsome.

    “Are you sure his identity is a secret?”

(y/n) ignored him and continued eating her dinner. Taking the hint, Apollo backed off.

    “What do you plan on doing, (y/n)?”

    “What do you mean?” She asked in response, focusing primarily on the noodles.

    “You know. With the henchman showing up and everything.”

    “I’m going to kill him, and the other two, wherever they are. And then I’m going to end Zeus’ reign and become a God. I thought you knew this.”

Apollo nodded once before saying, “What about your father?”

(y/n) froze. Not looking up at him, she said, coldly, “What about him?”

    “You wanted to find him. You came here looking for him.”

There was an uncomfortable silence in the air. Yes, she was hellbent on finding her father and whoever this Pepper person was. But that was years ago. That was before she knew what her mother wanted her to do. Now there was no one else to carry out her prophecy; no one but herself. She had to take a stand. And if she was to become a God, then there was no need for finding her father.

(y/n) licked her lips and finally looked at her uncle in the eye. Placing the box of noodles aside, the girl folded her arms and watched him intently.

    “You know who he is, don’t you?”

The shock presented itself rather clearly on Apollo’s face. (y/n) smirked bitterly before once again starting to eat, shaking her head to herself.

    “I… I don’t—”

    “You brought me here to New York, out of all the places in America, where I meet two of the people in my vision. Tell me, uncle. Why New York?”

Apollo stared at his niece in wonder. How long had she known? When had she figured this out? He gave her far too little credit; (y/n) was a demigod, she was smarter than any other regular mortal. To even think he could keep this a secret from her was silly of him. Apollo felt ashamed, far too ashamed than he had ever felt before.

    “It’s easier to extract information from a mortal. So, mother didn’t tell me who he is. But, you know.”

Tears fill Apollo’s eyes for a strange reason he couldn’t pinpoint. Blinking them away, he hoped his niece’s pain doesn’t convert to a feeling of betrayal.

    “I’m… I’m so—”

    “My mother willed it that I don’t know who my father is. So that he is safe and kept away from all this rubbish. So, let it be that way. And besides, once I become a God, I can’t live a normal human life. Finding my father is completely redundant.”

     “(y/n)...” Apollo let out, without realizing. 

     “I’m not who I was, uncle.”

To think the God of the Sun could feel this sad was absurd, but he felt it. As a matter of fact, he felt practically nothing. He didn’t watch as his niece took the box of noodles and went ahead to dispose it. He didn’t notice her tell him she was going to bed. Apollo sat there, alone, feeling miserable and missing his sister. There was a slight tingle at the ends of his fingers, a tingle he couldn’t remember having ever felt before.

What do I do? He asked his dead sister. What do I do, Artemis? She’s turning into the one thing you never wanted her to become.

Apollo sniffed the tears behind and rubbed a hand across his face.

She’s turning into a God.

❅

It had been close to a month since Thanos was defeated. And yet, for Tony Stark, the fear hadn’t truly disappeared. It was like the feeling after an anxiety attack, there was still a lingering fear that made you worry that something more was to come, but even if you knew that this was all for now, the feeling never quite went away. Tony had imagined victory to feel different from how it felt at that moment, but he was glad nevertheless.

Morgan was asleep by his side and even if he probably could never use his right hand again, Tony was alive and was back with his family; a family he loved more than he could love anything in the world.

He was certain that he would die that day. However, there was something strange that Tony saw that he couldn’t quite tell anyone else about. A voice, right after snapping his fingers. Tony heard a voice he hadn’t ever heard before; the voice of a girl. It felt familiar, but he was also certain he hadn’t heard it, but the familiarity stemmed from it being a nice, warm feeling. He couldn’t remember her words, nor could he remember her face, but she was there. For those few seconds after he had snapped Thanos and his goons into dust, she was there, with him, holding on to him, keeping him alive.

Turning to Morgan, he wondered if the voice belonged to his daughter. Grown up and well, guiding him, shielding him, protecting him and keeping him warm.

Coming back to not being able to feel his right hand, things were quite simple. He hated being handed things, but now things were always being handed to him. He knew for a fact that when he could get up and move about, he would definitely do something about his hand situation. Even if Pepper advises him not to, there was always a rebel living inside Tony’s heart.

The door opened and in came Pepper, offering him a loving smile and turning to their daughter with warmth.

    “She’s asleep.”

    “After listening to the thousandth story for the thousandth time.” Tony retorted.

Pepper chuckled before carrying little Morgan, holding her in her arms.  

    “Someone’s here to see you, Tony.”

    “Please tell me it’s not Steve, I can’t bear to see Steve right now, I don’t even have a—”

The door opened and Natasha smirked, “I’m not Steve.”

    “Oh, hi, Nat. Yes, just walk in, I’m completely fine and don’t have anything on me that is embarrassing or weird.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, “I’m going to ignore that comment.”

    “Sit down, you look distressed. Don’t tell me another creature is here to wipe off the universe. Good thing I still have another good hand.”

Pepper gave her husband a look. “Too soon?” Tony asked, before sighing and leaning back on his bed.

However, Natasha was distressed. On her way to Tony’s cabin, Natasha was heading over to the Stark industries—where the Avengers were still operating. She observed a rather strange person trying to enter Stark industries, a strange symbol on their jacket.

A symbol she had seen from five years ago. The symbol of a wolf, engraved on his jacket, just like a Sloth had been engraved on another jacket. Evading him as smoothly as she could, Natasha knew she had to confirm something, and that could only happen here.

Natasha had almost forgotten about (y/n). She remembered confirming with Pepper about going to Greece years ago, but now she had something to show for it. She couldn’t quite call the world peaceful just yet, having fought one of those crazy mud beasts that were after the girl five years ago. Pepper sat down on a couch with Morgan in her arms, still asleep.

Looking up at Tony, she let out a breath.

    “You’ve been to Greece, right?”

Tony blinks at her. “Loads of times. What is this? A random question and answer—”

    “I remember you asked me that years ago.” Pepper recalled.

Natasha nodded, “Yeah, the art gala thing. Tell me about it.”

    “Nat, is there another threat? Tell me there’s no threat, I cannot deal with another threat right now. Do you understand—”

    “Tony. Answer the goddamn question.”

Pepper looked at Tony and then at Natasha. The way she looked seemed calm, and she guessed that it wasn’t a threat, but something else. Natasha’s inquiries resembled the questions you’d ask a boyfriend on his whereabouts. She stood by the door, folding her arms in front of her chest. 

    “Hmm, well, that art gala thing was close to 20 years ago. There was this incredibly, ahem, attractive woman—”

    “Go ahead, and say the word. I knew you were attracted to her.” Pepper said, with a smile.

    “They were twins. Alec and Aria. Phew. I can’t ever forget her.” Tony said, leaning back, almost mumbling.

    “Why not?” Natasha asked, curious.

    “Well, she told me something very important after we...you know...”

    “You had sex with her?” Pepper asked, surprised.

Tony shrugged before saying, “She told me I loved Pepper. That it was always her. That when I dream, it’ll always be her.”

Pepper’s eyes widened. The blonde woman tried to fight back a smile that was coming her way, but couldn’t. She looked away, blushing.

    “Well, at least she didn’t make a mess of things and call you names for leaving her or anything.” Pepper said, rolling her eyes.

    “No, no. Actually, she was quite relaxed about everything. She wasn’t bitter, she wasn’t trying to make me stay or anything. It was almost as if she was a saint. Nothing bad about her, I’m afraid. I think,” Tony scrunched up his face, “She was the only woman who didn’t try to kill me after we had sex. We actually had a proper conversation after we did the deed.”

    “She had a twin brother, right?” Natasha asked Pepper.

Pepper nodded, “He was incredibly handsome, women everywhere were just fawning over Alec, it was incredible how he didn’t ever lose control of himself like a certain billionaire.” Tony gave his wife a look.

    “Did he look like this?”

Natasha showed them both a picture. It was of a grown man and a girl, almost thirteen years old, their backs facing the camera, standing beside one another, at the edge of a roof. He was turning to her, so his face was visible from the side, but the girl’s face was not.

    “Oh, yes! That’s him. I can’t ever mistake it.” Pepper said, touching the picture.

Tony frowned before asking, “Why do I think that’s not who we’re talking about?”

Natasha smirked at Tony’s response. 

    “This is a picture from five years ago. After the snap,” Pepper and Tony nodded, waiting for Natasha to continue. Black Widow pointed to the girl in the picture and continued, “She’s his twin sister’s daughter.”

Neither of them say a word. It was as if Pepper had already figured it out, as one of her hands flew to her mouth. She looked at Tony, who still didn’t take the hint.

    “Tony,” Natasha pressed. “How many years ago did you go to Greece for this gala? Tell me the exact number.”

Tony looked straight into Natasha’s eyes, “Eighteen. It was somewhere in 2005.”

    “This girl is 18 years old now, Tony.”

Only one word could describe what Tony was feeling. Only one word made sense for the moment. That word was the only response to something like this, which made everyone understand that Tony had understood what Natasha was trying to tell him.

    “Fuck.”

❅

series taglist:

Those I could not tag, I’ve added your urls here!

@maddie-laufeyson​, @mscoloneldanvers​, @https://dancing-flame.tumblr.com, @daughter-of-stark​, @spider-mendes​, @nerdyandproudofitsstuff​, @someonekeepstakingmyusernames​, @alina-margaret​, @yourwonderbelle​, @viarogers​​, @https://huangsushii.tumblr.com, @eridanuswave​ @oliviaisnotlistening​ @mizpotatobiscuits​ @editsbyjenny​ @abbieroseb​ @justtrynagetthroughlife​ @secretlittlewonders​​ @missmulti​ @shallowshawnshallowshawn.tumblr.com  @eunoiametonia​ @adistiany​ @justletmesleeptillidie​ @ppunderoos​ @myheartonthemove​ @heir2chaos​ @honeybutterparker @truthdaze @mvmakki @-thatgirloverthere-@growingthornz @freddies-fried-chicken @jinxedleohttps://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/wrongyuckie @gogoca @kewl-r​ @death-by-viola​ @losersunitetonight​ 

[whumppile]

Could you maybe write a fic where pidge is captured or hurt saving shiro? Then shiro has to go rescue her? I just really love shiro protecting pidge!

Sure! I love protective Shiro, here you go I hope you like it and thanks for sending the prompt! Please let me know what you think. I'l post it on my ff.net and ao3 accounts as “Pigeon.”

“Keep going straight and then take two lefts.”

Keith’s voice came, quiet and a little amused. “You mean right.”

Lance made a noise of indignation as Pidge rolled her eyes at the two’s bickering.

“Shut up, Keith! The maps upside down and it’s hard to see on the little screen, okay? Whatever, just go straight and then take two rights, Pidge.”

She tapped her coms as she continued crawling through the vents, trying to keep her voice from sounding too annoyed. They were doing their best, with the situation given to them. They weren’t used to being the ones behind the screen, and besides, she’d made it look so easy.

“Got it.”

Being the smallest member of the team was often more annoying than anything but when it came to crawling through vents in a Galra ship to rescue Shiro, she was the only one capable. She was suddenly very glad for her height then, because she didn’t often get a chance to be the hero.

She was always the one behind the screen, saving everyone’s asses and making sure they knew where to go and didn’t get caught, while they got the glory and the awesome fights. It’s not like they didn’t appreciate her, she knows they do, but it was cool to be the one doing the fighting for once. Especially because she was pretty freaking good at it.

“Okay, I’m at the end of the vent. There are three guards in the hall, I can take them out if you guys disable the camera’s and shut off the alarms.”

Lance hummed, unsure, before Keith’s voice came through the coms. “Uh…how do we do that again?”

Pidge groaned before Hunk stepped in, his sigh quiet through the com link. “I got it.”

The green paladin carefully took out her bayard as she watched the camera’s shut down in the hall. Taking a deep breath, she activated her weapon, keeping an eye out for the guards as it changed shape in her hand.

She hesitated for just a moment. ‘Come on Pidge, you can do this.’

The others noted her pause, and watched their screens for her trackers blip on the map. They were worried, of course, she was the little sister of the team, and none of them wanted her in harm’s way, but she was a paladin just like they were and they knew she could do it.

Lance’s voice came first, ever the big brother. “You got this, green. Kick their asses.”

Hunk found it harder to cover the worry in his tone but his warm voice made Pidge feel better all the same. “Yeah, you know what you’re doing. And we’re here if you need any help.”

Keith wasn’t very good at expressing his emotions or comforting other people, but Pidge could hear the smile in his voice. “Go loose, Pidge.”

She smiled. Fierce and proud. She could do this.

The guards jumped in fright as she kicked the grate off the vents, and leapt down to the floor, landing in a crouch, and firing her weapon. Her grappling hook shot at the closest guard as he aimed his gun at her, wrapping around his ankles and tearing him across the floor.

The other two guards fired at her, but she was already behind the first she’d tied up, and she smacked the gun from his hand before he could even sit up. Pidge knew she was small, and not very strong, but she knew how to make the best of any situation she was in. So, using the first guard as a human…alien shield, she pushed her way to the other two, and took them out with a few well-placed kicks to their heads.

They dropped to the floor, like rocks as she panted, and an unhappy voice came from behind her, from the first guard where he was still tied up in her grappling hook.

“There will be more coming, the alarms will-“ He got a kick in the head too.

Three voices came through the coms, as she took back her bayard and ran down the hall to where Shiro’s cell was supposed to be.

“Whaaaat, that was amazing!” Lance’s voice was laced with giggles and mostly came out as a squeak, making Pidge smile.

“That was insanely brutal…I’m so proud.”

Keith’s words came with an urgency to them. “Great job, Shiro should be just down that hall in the last cell.”

Finally. It had taken them days to find out where he was being kept, and they had no idea what they’d even been doing to him in that time.

Pidge quickly made her way to the end of the hall, keeping her eyes peeled for any sign of trouble, and finally, there he was. Still in his black paladin armour, looking just as he had when he’d been captured during the last mission, save for the scruff along his jaw. He was doing push ups, face pinched as he focused on his task.

He looked up the sound of footsteps, face immediately splitting into a grin as he saw who it was.

“Pidge!”

The green paladin smiled and tapped at the keypad next to his cell.

“Hey, Space Dad! I’m going to get you out, just hang on.” Her fingers flew across the screen as she hacked the security pad, allowing her access to the cell.

Shiro stood and gripped the bars. “Allura and Coran were taken too, they’re-“

Pidge nodded, not looking up from her work. “They’re okay, we got them from another ship two days ago. They’re back at the castle, resting, and they’re fine.”

He sighed in relief as Pidge finished hacking, but before she could push the release button, a hand found her throat and lifted her into the air.

“Another paladin for our collection.” The words were said with a snarl, as the galra soldier looked at Pidge with disgust. Shiro screamed in rage and slammed his fists against the bars of his cell.

“You put her down!”

Pidge kicked her legs at the giant, but it was like kicking a brick wall. The galra squeezed her neck.

“I’ll do whatever I want, you puny humans are no match for the galra force.”

Pidge could barely hear Shiro yell in response, as she tried to breathe, hands clawing at the fingers around her throat. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t escape, couldn’t…she needed to be smart about this. Instincts told her to keep pulling at the fingers around her neck, but as she chocked, she fought that instinct and instead reached a hand towards her belt, where she’d hooked her bayard.

Shiro watched her hand, watched her turn it into her grappling hook, and slammed his fists harder against the bars, trying to do anything to save Pidge some pain.

And it would hurt, it would hurt a lot. She knew that, and she didn’t like pain, but she didn’t like suffocating either. She fired her grappling hook at the galra soldier that held her, watching him laugh as it attached harmlessly to his chest.

“HA! Is that the best you’ve got?”

His grip lessened just enough to let her speak, words filled with contempt. “No, but this is.”

The cool thing about her grappling hook, was that it could also be used as a taser.

Electricity shot through the soldier, causing every one of his muscles to clench. His hand gripped Pidges throat like a vice, and the electricity that passed through him, also passed through her.

Shiro screamed her name as her whole body became rigid, before falling to the ground, limp as a rag doll, as the soldier dropped her.

The galra was bigger than her, it could withstand a lot more than she could, and when the electrical current stopped, he’d let her go and let out a guttural yell of rage.

“I’ll kill you!”

Pidge could barely see, her vision blurry and body floppy like rubber. It was hard to breathe too, her neck feeling sore and crushed where the soldier had squeezed, but she still needed to save Shiro. So, with her shaking, weak limbs, she crawled across the floor, and fired her bayard at the galra again.

She crawled to Shiro’s cell as the galra twitched and screamed in pain. Shiro slipped his hands through the bars and helped hold her up, to keep her standing as she tapped the security pad and opened his cell.

Once the door was open, she dropped her bayard and crumpled to the floor, the Galra soldier slumping to his knees in the absence of electricity.

Shiro stood in front of the green paladin, protectively, as he activated his prosthetic arm, lighting it up purple as his face twisted into an expression of pure hate.

“Don’t touch a member of my team, ever again.” His hand came down on the solider, in a glowing purple arch, and all of a sudden, the galra’s head was separate from his body.

Shiro’s coms activated once he was out of the cell, and he winced at the sudden onslaught of yelling.

“Shiro?! Are you there?!”

“Pidge, say something!”

“Is she okay?”

The green paladin lay in a heap on the floor, curled on her side and dragging ragged breaths through her damaged throat. Shiro quickly knelt down beside her and tapped his coms.

“Yeah, I’m here. Pidge, can you hear me?”

The girl’s eyes cracked open, finding her leaders worried face hovering above her, and she gave him a reassuring smile. She didn’t say anything, just lifted a weak hand towards him, fingers curling around his when he took it and held tight.

His voice was strong and sure, in that calm way of his that could always comfort the team no matter what happened. God, she’d missed it.

“Thanks for saving me. You’re my hero, Pidge.”

The girl blushed a little, before wincing at the pain in her…well, everything. Shiro frowned in concern, and carefully scooped her into his arms, holding her against his chest as he stood.

“Let’s get you back to the castle, huh? I think you could use some time in a healing pod. What’s the exit strategy, team?”

Pidge felt better there, in his arms, he held her so carefully and she didn’t think she’d ever felt safer. How could someone with so many muscles feel so cuddly? Okay, her brain may have been fried.

Keith’s voice came as static through her damaged coms, but Shiro raised his eyebrow at his words.

“Man, it’s good to hear your voice again. Our exit strategy is coming towards you right now, but it’s not really – DON’T EAT THE WHOLE SHIP, HE’S IN THERE!”

Metal twisted around them, screeching so loudly that it seemed to pierce the paladin’s brains. Shiro held Pidge closer, doing his best to protect her as part of the ship was torn away, the wall beside them ripping apart to reveal the huge head of the black lion.

Lance’s apologetic tone was loud, to be heard over the sounds of the wreckage. “Sorry, she was worried about you and it’s not like we can stop her.”

Shiro had never been happier to see his Lion, than right then. Alarms blared through the ship as the lion’s mouth opened, and she rumbled happily as Shiro walked in, the green paladin still tucked in his arms.

They were home.………….

“You kids had full reign of the castle for almost a week, how is it still standing?” Shiro was laughing, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the young paladins smile.

“Uhh, we’re paladins of Voltron, we’re responsible.” Lance lounged on the step, in front of Pidges healing pod, smirking at Keith who watched him with a small smile.

Hunk looked up from the piece of machinery he was tinkering with. “Yeah, plus Keith wouldn’t let Lance throw a party.”

Lance threw a furious betrayed look towards his friend as Keith scoffed. “Who would you have even invited.”

“I don’t know, those mermaids might have liked the pool! But you wouldn’t let me find out!”

Shiro laughed and was about to say something, when the healing pod behind him hissed and began to open. The others all stood, eagerly awaiting the release of their friend, as Shiro stood ready to catch her.

She fell from the pod with a sigh, eyes opening to all of their concerned faces as Shiro held her once again.

Her voice was rough but not the strangled mess it had been before. “Hey, guys.”

Shiro beamed, pulling her in for a hug as the rest of the team joined in. Hands and arms weaved together until they were all in a group hug, happy to have their little sister back.

Shiro sounded proud. “Welcome back, Pigeon.”

(Let me know what you think? Sorry it’s not that good it’s currently 1:12 AM lol)