#my friend paid for red robin so i drew them this

[fixer-png]

zawmbi

[ladyanput]

Seeing Green Ch.14

Mayura led them to the top of Wayne Tower, where Hawkmoth had been waiting. She carried the unconscious Adrien over to him.

"I got him for you, sir. Are you sure about this?" She asked as she gave the man his son, then took a step back to put some distance between them.

"Of course. You saw, Mayura, that akuma had almost gotten the Miraculous. There are powerful people here, imagine what I could do if I could akumatize the likes of Batman, or of any of the numerous villains here." Hawkmoth gave his partner a thin smile as he laid his sleeping son on the ground, near the rooftop door. "Then I can finally get her back, Mayura. I can get her back and everything will be perfect again."

"Hawkmoth!" A voice drew both of their attentions away from Hawkmoth's usual dialogue, and drew back in shock at the sight of Ladybug and the other Miraculous holders joining them on the roof. Ladybug began marching forward, murder clear in her eyes. "Enough is enough! 

"Ah, Ladybug. Are you here to finally hand over your Miraculous?" Hawkmoth grinned, and it took everything in Ladybug not to march over and slammed her fist into his face. She let herself get angry, get truly furious at him, for this was the end, she could just taste it. "I'll take the new Chat Noir's as well."

"The name is Tadmir, and we'll be taking yours first." The new Black Cat stepped forward to stand beside Ladybug, the others followed suit. They all stared Hawkmoth down, who simply let out an amused laugh and tightened his grip on his cane.

"You're all just a bunch of children, especially you, Ladybug. All these years and you've still barely tapped into your powers, still unable to hold onto your transformation after using your powers. How pathetic." He nudged the sleeping Adrien at his feet, causing him to stir. Green eyes snapped open and he sat up abruptly, letting out a startled gasp. Hawkmoth knelt next to him, wrapping a supportive arm around his son's shoulders. "Remember what I told you, Adrien. This is our only way to get our family back."

"Gabriel. Gabriel Agreste." Queen Bee snarled, her hands curling into fists as she took a step forward. "I knew it, I just knew it! You were always a crazy, creepy son of a bitch."

"I'd watch your language, Miss Bourgeois." Hawkmoth sneered, not seeming troubled by the fact they had figured out his identity. In fact, Ladybug felt unease curl in her gut at how casual he appeared.

Hawkmoth opened his cane, where a small dark butterfly was being kept. At the same time, Mayura pulled a blue feather from her face. In sync, both villains let their items float towards the boy kneeling at their feet.

Ladybug's yoyo shot out abruptly, catching the akuma before anyone could react, but missed the feather by a hair. She watched in horror as the blue mask framed Adrien's eyes, and something began to form.

It emerged from the shadows, a massive, sickly looking cat that looked over then all. It's glowing green eyes pierced the night, sending shivers down Ladybug's spine.

"What the fuck is that?!" Red Robin gripped his weapon tightly, the rest of his team joining suit. They watched as the cat yowled at them, showing off rows of sharp, yellowed teeth.

"Whatever it is, we're going to have to put it down!" Red Hood snapped and charged forward. The massive amok swiped one of its large paws, slamming it into Red Hood and sending him sliding across the rooftop, catching himself before he could go over the edge.

"You think you can handle it?" Ladybug kept her gaze on Hawkmoth, her body tensed as she readied herself to spring.

"We'll take care of it. You get those Miraculous before those two get us killed." Batman called out, and everyone leapt into action.

The Miraculous holders divided themselves; with Ryuko, Viperion, and Queen Bee going after Mayura, and Lady Vixen, Ladybug, and Tadmir going after Hawkmoth.

Hawkmoth was surprised by the sudden barrage of attacks he was hit with. Tadmir seemed to be more brutal than his son had been as the Black Cat. His strikes were more precise and had more weight to them, obviously of someone who trained and trained hard. But Hawkmoth had trained as well, and was certain he would never lose, not when his goal was just within reach.

Ladybug put her all into every punch, every kick, every scratch, aiming for one thing and one thing alone; the butterfly pin. 

When she saw it, it only further enraged her. This psychopath had used and abused the Miraculous, abused Nooroo. This bastard was the reason her life had gone spiraling like it had. She could have had a normal life, with normal friends! She could still have Alya, have everyone else! Adrien wouldn't have been messed up so badly, she might have even ended up dating him, because she had loved him!

Tears burned Ladybug's eyes as she fought and fought and fought, her muscles soon screaming from the excess of stress.

But Hawkmoth did not go down easily, neither did Mayura, meanwhile Adrien rode atop his massive shadow cat and tried to reduce the Gotham vigilantes to paste. But when he saw Tadmir, realization hit him hard and he snarled in anger.

"That is my Miraculous!" Adrien's strong emotions made the cat grow bigger, its claws growing longer and sharper. Adrien's face became a mask of twisted rage as he turned his attention back to Batman and other others. "First, I'll kill all of you! Then I'll get my Miraculous back!"

The boy was under great delusions thanks to his father.

"Once I revive your mother, Adrien, I will allow you to make a wish of your own, I promise."

And Adrien completely disregarded that his father usually went back on every promise he had made before, more enraptured in the thought of what his wish would be; for Ladybug to be hopelessly in love with him. And then with that, she'd surely give him his ring back.

Ladybug risked a glance over to his teammates. Vixen was currently trying to avoid Hawkmoth's swings with his cane, while Tadmir was trying his hardest to land a solid blow to either his face or between his legs.

But all of them, even Ladybug herself, were so focused on the pin, on retrieving it, that Ladybug didn't notice the cane swinging in her direction. She let out a startled cry as it cracked against her head, sending her sprawling onto the ground, her vision going blurry, before blacking out.

When Ladybug came to, she was sprawled out on the rooftop, her visions full of dark spots. Once she blinked them away, she saw all of her comrades scattered across the roof, looking beaten and bloody. Luka, Kagami, and Chloé were all huddled, detransformed, bruised and thoroughly defeated. Evangeline was cradling a bloodied Red Hood close, her face battered with dark bruises, and Damian was sprawled out beside her, bleeding heavily from a wound in his gut.

"Damian!" Ladybug tried to get to her feet as frantic fear overtook her, but she whimpered when a foot stepped on her back, keeping her pinned. Then a bloodied silver blade pressed against her throat before she could even make a move. 

"Well, well, I suppose that it's all finally come to this. I told you that I would get your Miraculous, Ladybug. Finally, I can get what it is I truly desire." Hawkmoth grinned as he knelt down and grasped one of the spotted earrings. He relished in pulling it free from her ear, detransforming her. Hawkmoth stared down at the teen girl who had been a thorn in his side for years, staring at her face, trying to place it but not quite able to.

"Marinette!" Adrien spat out, before turning towards Hawkmoth, a triumphant grin on his face. "I told you father! I told you it was her, she couldn't trick me!"

Hawkmoth paid no intention, instead taking the other earring. As Mayura stepped forward, Hawkmoth reared back his sword, then jabbed it into Marinette's back, making her cry out in pain.

"You can heal her with a wish." Hawkmoth said casually to Adrien as he slid on the Black Cat Miraculous, then forced the Ladybug earrings into his ears, despite not having them pierced. A little bit of pain was worth being with his Émilie again,his perfect, stunning, obedient wife.

"You bastard.." Eva snarled as she stood, her body shaking from her overtaking herself, but was knocked down by Mayura rushing over and backhanding her, making her collapse.

"Sir, I congratulate you in succeeding." Mayura smiled as she strode over to Hawkmoth, and Marinette wanted to hurl when she saw the look of adoration on her face. "I'll be happy when she returns."

"We'll be a happy family again." Adrien put it as both Tikki and Plagg appeared. Both Kwami looked devastated when they saw the condition of all of their allies, before their gazes turned hateful upon seeing Gabriel drop his transformation and stumble a few steps. The weight of such powerful Miraculous were a bit too much for him.

"Tikki, Plagg, I am now your Master." Gabriel grinned, and poor Nooroo flinched when he realized his dearest family would be subjected to the same torment to which he had been a long suffering victim. "I have a wish to make, and you shall give it to me."

 "And what is your wish?" Plagg spat out acidicly, while Gabriel merely smiled.

"I wish for my wife to be alive and well once again. The damaged Peacock Miraculous had greatly hurt her and she lay dying beneath my home." Gabriel announced, and Marinette felt bile rise in her throat.

Tikki was quiet for a moment, before flying closer to Gabriel, meeting his gaze.

"Are you sure you want to do that, Gabriel? There is a law of equivalent exchange, no wish is for free." She warned, before Gabriel suddenly snatched her, squeezing her tightly.

"Do not question me! I am your owner and you will do my bidding!" Gabriel snarled, giving Tikki a sharp shake, before finally letting her go.

Once he did, Tikki and Plagg exchanged regretful looks before bowing their heads.

"As you wish, Master. Transform and make the wish." Plagg spoke out, his tone sounding flat and reserved, causing Gabriel to grin in triumph.

He transformed and made his wish, causing the entire area to quickly be filled with blinding golden light.

Then it faded and Adrien crumpled to the ground, his vacant eyes staring up at the dark night sky.

"Adrien?!" Mayura knelt beside him, then began to have a violent coughing fit. Her body shook once and she collapsed to the ground as well, her transformation dropping to reveal the body of Natalie with a now permanent look of shock on her face.

"What…?" Gabriel stared in shock down at the two people he had cared about most in the world. The man dropped the transformation as he went and knelt by the body of his son, cradling him close and he glared at the two Kwami that were now floating over him. "What did you do?!"

"Adrien..? Gabriel?!" Gabriel's head snapped up and he stared as his beautiful Émilie stood on the other side of the roof, looking horrified.

…

Marinette couldn't move and her vision was becoming blurry, then dark around the edges. She managed to reach a hand out and grasp Damian's, though her fingertips were beginning to feel cold.

Was this what it was like to die…?

"It's okay, sugar cookie.." A soft, warm voice murmured into her ear, and a gentle hand stroked Marinette's hair. "I'll save you, I promise."

Marinette went to speak, but she couldn't, her vision slowly going black as she listened to the clicking of heels move away from her and a cry of outrage. 

Golden light flared, nearly blinding her, then everything went black.

She awoke to the feeling of being cradled in someone's arms. She glanced up and a sob left her as she saw it was Damian. Before he could say anything, she leaned up and hugged him, beginning to sob.

"I thought I had lost you.." She whispered, burying her face into his neck. He hugged back and they say there for what felt like the longest time, before she abruptly pulled back and frantically looked around. "Wait, Hawkmoth, he-"

"Don't worry about him." Batman smiled down at her, then pointed to where Gabriel Agreste was handcuffed and looking quite miserable. 

Marinette stared at the man for the longest time, finding herself pitying him, in a way. The man had gone through all of that trouble just to revive his wife. He was quite pathetic.

A soft groaning sound could be heard and her attention snapped towards where Adrien lie, watching in shock as the boy sat up, holding his head.

Everyone was silent for the longest time, then Marinette got to her feet and slowly made her way over to him. Once their eyes met, she watched as tears began streaming down his face.

"Marinette..?" Adrien whispered, his eyes looking clear for the first time in a long time. Then a horrified expression flickered across his face and he began to sob. "Oh god, I was- Marinette- I was a monster…"

Marinette knelt beside him as he broke down in front of her, before she embraced him and let her own tears begin to fall. The Waynes, Luka, Kagami, and Chloé watched as the two broke down in tears, finally free from this burden that had plagued them for so long.

Once their tears subsided, their gazes shifted over to Natalie's body.

"I can't believe she sacrificed her life to make a wish, to save us." Marinette whispered, reaching out and closing Natalie's staring eyes. "I hope she finds peace, she really turned herself around in the end."

"Marinette!" Tikki came rushing forward, nuzzling her Chosen's cheek, holding the earrings tightly. "I was so scared, I thought I was going to lose you!"

"You'd never lose me, I'm your Guardian afterall. It takes more than a stab wound to take down Marinette Dupain-Cheng." Marinette grinned, quickly putting on the earrings, feeling a sense of relief and familiarity. Plagg, after realizing the coast was clear, flew over to Damian and handed him his ring, the two of them sharing a smile.

The cops soon came and hauled off Gabriel and Adrien, who went willingly, the heroes stood there and felt free for the first time in a long time.

"I guess we can go back to Paris." Ryuko hugged Ladybug, Queen Bee and Viperion soon joining in. "We'll see you when you get home. Should we be ready to give the Miraculous back?"

"I think so.. With Hawkmoth gone, I think the Miraculous need to go back into hiding again." Ladybug smiled sadly, looking down at the Peacock and Butterfly Miraculous in her hand. "I can't have these fall into the wrong hands again. But I'll give you time to say goodbye, I'll be home tomorrow."

Kalki came when summoned and allowed the Parisians to go home, with Ladybug turning back to Tadmir, and hugging him once again.

"I guess we need to get going. My parents want to go home and get the school board to fire Bustier's ass." She joked, taking his hand as Kaalki changed the portal location to the Wayne Manor. "I think I'll have fun with that one."

"I can't imagine how your class survived with only her chaperoning." Nightwing joked, stepping through the portal with a slight skip in his step. Ladybug watched with a smile as everyone headed inside and was about to join them, before something caught her eye.

A few feet away from her was the Fox Miraculous, looking as if it had been tossed carelessly on the ground. She frowned and picked it up, this catching Tadmir's attention before he stepped through the portal.

"Tadmir, do you remember me giving the Fox Miraculous to anyone?" Ladybug asked as she made her way back to the portal. Tadmir looked thoughtful, before shaking his head. "Huh,maybe I accidentally summoned it. I didn't forget it, so I guess it's nothing worth worrying about."

When they stepped through the portal and arrived in the main hall of Wayne Manor, Jason strode up and ruffled Marinette's hair as soon as she detransformed.

"Well, pixie pop, what took you guys so long? I'm trying to convince Bruce here to let us get drunk and party it up." He joked, earning an eye roll from his brothers.

"I was just getting this." Marinette held up the Fox Necklace, and as she stared at it, she felt tears burn her eyes, and a few slid down her cheeks. And when she next looked at Jason, she could see he was crying as well, but looked as baffled as she.

…

"Marinette, you're okay!" Alix burst from the class as they exited the hotel to see Marinette standing by the bus that was waiting to take them to the airport. Marinette opened her arms and accepted the hug as Alix rushed to her. "Did you get him? Is it… Is it all over?"

"Hawkmoth is gone." Marinette smiled as she pulled back, and the entire group began to cheer and some even began to cry. The terror of Hawkmoth's reign was finally over.

"Now you and I have so much more time to spend with your best friend!" Alya shoved her way to the front of the group, then moved to hug Marinette, only for said girl to hold up a hand and stop her in her tracks.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Marinette rose a brow, not missing the looks Nino and Alix exchanged.

"Miss Bustier explained everything. I know all of that stress made you more susceptible to act out, but the stress is gone now and we can be best friends again, like how it used to be!" Alya explained, and Marinette turned her cold gaze to the smiling Caline Bustier.

"Well that's bull." Marinette snapped out, setting her hands on her hips. "Because you're not my best friend. You're Lila's, remember? And I'm too jealous of her because of Adrien, right?"

"Girl, please, she's a liar, she tricked me. And Adrien is a piece of trash, he convinced Nino to dump me, remember?" Alya rolled her eyes. 

"Marinette, please, Alya is really trying." Miss Bustier spoke up, then motioned to the bus. "Now let's just make up and get to the airport."

"Oh that's enough out of you, she certainly wasn't trying when she threw champagne in my face and called me loose." Marinette snapped, her eyes full of fury now, as she could finally let loose and get it all out. "You can't keep enabling this kind of thing! It's not healthy, and it only makes things worse!"

"Marinette-"

"No, I won't be the example! You didn't even contact my parents, Mr. Wayne had to do that!" Marinette shook her head, then took a deep breath. "My parents called the education board."

Marinette turned away as she saw Miss Bustier go white, and went over to where Damian was waiting for her.

"I'll see you in a few months." She hugged him tightly, then softly kissed his cheek. "Take good care of Plagg."

"I already have some camembert ordered for the glutton." Damian joked, then gently cupped her cheek, gazing deep into her blue eyes, then softly kissed her. "I'll be counting the hours until I can see my angel again."

"I'll be counting the minutes, Mon Prince." She kissed him back, then gave him one last hug, before boarding the bus with her friends.

Damian watched, hands stuffed in his pockets, as the bus drove off, carrying his love back home. And he found himself smiling as he fiddled with the ring on his finger, feeling a rather bright future ahead.

Taglist: @realrandomposts @interobanginyourmom @ladybug-182 @ladylb @zalladane @mochinek0 @persephonebutkore @urbanpineapplefarmer @vixen-uchiha @angelofmusickaterinapetrova @thewheezingbubbledragon @northernbluetongue @violatiger8 @thequestionablyhuman @ginamarie1512 @maude-zarella @2sunchild2 @saphiraazure2708 @ayuchan07 @virgil-is-a-cutie @thepeacetea @miraculous786 @enchanted-nerd @ficsforthestars @emo-elaine13 @caffeinetheory

[chromatic-lamina]

rascal: law and robin brotp fanfic

I have a lot of brotp Law and Robin in my fics, and one fic with them as a couple. I like the brotp interaction. Two cynical and supportive friends, but the writing is mostly in my multi-chaptered works, which are dark or canon divergent or both.

Anyway, I’m going to include an excerpt below. Robin’s painting Law’s toenails while they both chat about current and past loss and love. It’s from a three-chapter work that I don’t think will make much sense without knowing the rest of the world that it comes from, but hopefully this interchange can be followed and strikes a chord with some. I know the LawBin fans are thirsty. Post canon with canon-verse history and elements. This is an older piece.

🐞

Law sat back in the garden recliner in Robin’s backyard, a book over his face. He wasn’t in danger of burning easily in the late morning sun, but had no intention of making himself prey to melanoma. Robin perched on the edge of the recliner, holding one of Law's feet.

He'd spent the night at Robin’s in anticipation of the tea-towel convention they'd be visiting today. She’d spent the night trying to share his enthusiasm as he sat, tattooed arms spread on the table, poring over catalogues. His inked hands pointed out designs featuring disproportionate tulip-ensconced windmills, and disembodied body parts that had less to do with Dali and more to do with morticians.

She assumed all the creators were outliers. Commemorative tea-towels hadn’t quite taken the art world by storm yet, but they did remind her a little of Ryuunosuke, the very cute but badly drawn dragon that had struggled and succeeded in taking them all to the top of Zou. 

That was last night though and now, soon, they’d head off to gossip and gander with the convention organisers, the Dishcloth Dames, once she’d made Law pretty.

“These are so cute.” She pulled at the few black gnarly hairs curled on Law’s left big toe.

“Freak,” Law mumbled, moving his foot.

Robin laughed, righted Law’s foot and wiped the brush over the nail of his big toe.

“When did you last clip these?”

“What’s it to you? You’re the one who wanted to dress me up.”

“You’re the one who’s letting me. You’ve got old man’s feet, by the way.”

Law arched his bridge and Robin slapped it, held it down.

“The sexy surgeon’s pedes don’t please? You said they were cute?”

She studied languages. She had no difficulty with Law’s fancy Latin terms.

“Mmm. I wouldn’t go that far. But I guess you got those tattoos to distract from your tootsies.”

The ink on the bridges of his feet matched that on the back of his hands. She felt the arc of the bone against her palm as she admired the designs, although it was one of the more simple ones to adorn Law and, historically, definitely not his favourite.

“And yet, there you are, making them all presentable and shit.”

“Does Marco like them?”

“He’s got his kinks.”

“And . . . ?”

“They remain in the bedroom,” Law grinned. At times he thought the Phoenix liked every part of his body, though they’d never had a deep conversation about those particular extremities.

“Ah, you’re no fun.”

“I’ve been told.”

Law felt her move to the next digit.

“What colour are you painting them?”

“Tch.”

As if it could be anything but black.

“Well, you sent Chopper out for the colour once,” Law said to her silence.

Bubble gum. Robin snickered, remembering. Law peered at her from under his book, her shoulders rose and fell with laughter. He liked that violet t-shirt.

.

Law seemed so disinterested, and therefore, Robin guessed very trusting, when she or anyone else painted his nails. He usually paid little attention to the colour, or even the action. It was something that pleased those who found it amusing to decorate him. Just so long as they let him read whatever he was researching, he indulged them. A small compromise for a larger gain.

No way in hell could someone he didn’t trust do this, though it had been done. Robin knew that trust was hard won. Law told himself that he let them all think he was vain this way so he could go for their jugulars some other time. Plus, he liked giving the Dishcloth Dames even more to gossip about.

.

Thinking of Chopper, Law laughed as if the sound was rationed—a clipped exhalation. The tanuki reminded him of his navigator.

“Bepo. Lord, Bepo got it into his head once to paint me. Maybe he wanted to practice so he could surprise some lucky Mink in the future, and who better to be his chump than his ferocious captain?”

Robin turned to him for a second, curious, before proceeding to the next toe. Her extra hands manipulated Law’s foot for the best access. Law’s own hand kept the book in place. She liked that silver band he sometimes wore on his wrist—a solid link—a flash of sky reflected in the metal.

“His fine motor skills aren’t the best. You’ve seen his maps. Shachi and Penguin thought I’d amputated my own toes without the benefit of a Room.” A rumble lifted Law's chest and then dissolved. He smiled easily. The book didn’t cover all of his face.  “He even dabbed a paw print on my heel.”

“He chose red?” She loved that flash of teeth.

“Mmm. So. I guess it’s black?”

Robin finished the last toenail and told him not to move his feet about for a while. She then drew up the recliner next to his, lay on it, leant on her side and looked across. Law could be asleep for all she knew.

.

“Oi, talk to me endling. Of course it’s black.”

Law’s lips twitched. Only Robin could get away with that.

“So needy, terminarch. How am I meant to do that without moving?”

They may as well have just called each other Flevance and Ohara. They did at times, but neither could be feeling too off-colour when they did, or the devil fruits would come out to play. The town names as nomenclatures were off-limits to anyone else.

“Take that book off your face at least. I know you can’t read it like that.”

“Your makeup bag’s not nearby, is it?”

“Just the toes today, Dr. Death.”

Good. He was only happy for modification to go so far. He sighed, grumbled, but lifted a hand and picked the book up by its spine, and rested it—still spreadeagled—on his chest. He blinked into the sun, then tipped his head her way. Not the most comfortable of positions.

“Can I sit up?”

The grey of Law’s irises were sometimes shot through with gold. She wondered what his parents had looked like. “Give it a few.”

He turned his face skyward again, his arm over his shut lids.

.

“How about Luffy?” she asked. Luffy was before island living, before Law’s casual feet days. If they’d ever played around with nail polish, she’d never seen the results.

Law groaned.

“He approached my nails as if they were made of seastone, his hand was that shaky.” The softness in tone betrayed the annoyance in his words. “For some reason he thought a pearly pink would suit? Maybe it reminded him of marbled steak or something? Of course, he had absolutely no patience.”

Law scratched at his sideburns with his spare hand.

“He slapped it on, forgot to cap the varnish, jumped on me, bringing the sheet with him, or whatever we were lying on, wherever we were. It smeared over everything; our clothes, or more accurately, my clothes. You know, Luffy somehow always escapes his own chaos—and then he declared the whole thing stupid and boring, as if I’d dreamt up the activity and forced it on him.” Incredulity hissed through the back of his teeth.

He tapped his earrings. "Somehow the polish even managed to get on these. Nami-ya probably talked him into the whole thing for a bet."

“And you let him?”

Law didn’t need to look at Robin to know her expression; amused and bemused.

“You choose your battles.”

“Mmm.” Her captain could be quite domineering. She wondered if they were the same earrings. It wouldn’t surprise her. She’d kept the same jewellery over the years, but added to her collection with each pirates' haul. The ones that Luffy didn’t somehow swap for food.

.

She sat up and twisted her neck. They needed to get going soon.

“Phoenix?”

“Still trying to unearth his kinks?”

“Now that you bring it up.”

Law’s smile, the one Robin and only a few others ever saw, made her lips curve.

“I paint for him at times. I mean, my own nails. He’s got a lapis grounding stone, and his flames are blue when he’s in Zoan form. I try to match those shades—a balance between the two. Other times, I paint for myself.”

“Does he notice?” Marco had a grounding stone? But then again, they all had their talismans.

“Sometimes.”

“You don’t tell him?”

“Not always. Other things are more pressing.”

“Does he know you’re a freak?”

“I thought that was you.”

.

Law paused for a second. He tipped his face Robin's way again, his hand still protecting his eyes. How come she got to sit up?

“The dogs have never liked it. And you know, all that waste. It’s not really hygienic in the clinic either.”

“You operate with your toes?”

Law laughed. “When I do my hands . . . It’s not hygienic.”

.

Robin cast a glance at her back yard – the trees that offered privacy from the neighbours, the small pond. She enjoyed life in the New World now Luffy was pirate king.

“The dogs don’t like it, but Bepo can handle it?”

“Well, he’s a freak, too. Minks wear makeup, right?”

Robin nodded. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

“Makeup?”

“Being a freak.”

“To the contrary, some of my best friends are freaks. You can’t all be Chopper.”

Law calls Robin a freak and gets away with it. heh. Perhaps. Anyway, I’ll put the link to the AO3 story as the source (just edited it in. This post has been up for long enough).  It’s actually about dogs and links back to another story, and is kinda sad, and features Robin, but is about Law and Marco, and there’s plenty of humour too. If you want to read it, be my guest. It’s an older one, written a few years ago. T-rated.

[nightglider124]

RobStar Week 2020: Day 3

So, I actually liked writing this one. I think the reason I be hating on my oneshots so far is I’m in a weird emotional funk this week. Maybe it’s menstrual. Who knows these days. 

ANYWHO. This is set post-tokyo which I do so love because the children would be a lot more comfortable and chill with each other. I’m all for blushy kids but I do like writing them in an established relationship too.

I’m pretty sure I’ve written something with this kinda concept before but oh well XD.

This has yet to be properly proof-read but I’m sure it’s fine for now.

Hope you guys like it!

_________________

Tamaran

A gentle sound of knuckles rapping against her bedroom door is what dragged Starfire’s attention away from what she was doing, comfortably sat in the middle of her round bed with her legs crossed in a pretzel style.

She lifted her head, her long auburn hair cascading over her shoulder like a rouge waterfall. Her emerald orbs sparkled in the dying orange light of day, trickling through her large window, as it reflected off of the ocean below the tower. 

Smiling brightly, Starfire straightened up and set her task aside for the moment, “Yes?”

“It’s me.”

Her face lit up at the voice beyond her door which belonged to none other than Robin. She beamed and threaded her fingers together, “Come in!”

With that, he quietly opened the door and poked his head through the gap. Smiling softly, he traipsed the rest of the way inside her personal space and closed the door behind him. Robin strode closer, tilting his head in curiosity as he drew nearer,

“Hey.” He greeted, stooping down to where she was sitting to bestow a kiss to her cheek, “You’ve been in here for a while. Everything okay?” 

She nodded, making room for him to take a seat on the edge of her bed; an offer which he accepted almost immediately. 

“I am fine. I just wished for some of the ‘quiet time’ after our battle with Plasmus today.” She replied, blowing air between her lips in exhaustion,

Robin chuckled and bobbed his head in agreement, “Yeah… fights with Plasmus… they’re never good.”

“I just wish it was not so… messy every time.” 

He shrugged and winked in her direction, “Guess that’s what happens when you fight a giant jello looking thing.”

Starfire giggled and leaned forward so her chin rested atop of his shoulder, seeking some contact, no matter how small it was, “Are you alright?”

Robin leaned his head against hers, “Mhm. I just wanted to check in on you.” He paused and tilted his chin downward in an attempt to catch her gaze, “Oh… and I wanted to ask if you were maybe up for heading out soon? I thought we could grab dinner in the city?”

“With our friends or…?” She trailed off, teasingly,

He laughed and pretended to consider, “Hmm… as fun as that sounds, I was actually thinking of it being just the two of us for once.”

“Robin, are you asking me on a date?” Starfire asked in a mock tone of shock, as if such a thing was rare and unheard of.

He smirked and murmured against her cheek, “Mm… if you wanna label it… sure. It can be a date. Not sure how relevant it is though since you are my girlfriend.”

She hummed a happy note at that and pulled back, Robin half swiveling his body to watch her as she moved. He grinned at the way her eyes glinted with mischief and joy under the setting sunlight, basking her room in a summer glow. 

“Well, I would love to.” She said, her expression turning dreamlike,

“Good.” He returned, 

Starfire giggled and swung her legs over the side of her bed, getting up and wandering over to her vanity table, placed just beside her window.

She picked up her brush and quietly hummed to herself as she started dragging it through her locks, just to freshen up a little since they were venturing out to the city.

Robin exhaled noisily and flopped back on her bed, lacing his fingers together atop his chest, “So, what’re you in the mood for for dinner?”

“Umm… I am happy with anything.” Starfire answered, her tone nonchalant,

He grinned and turned his head towards her, “You know, it would be great if you would just choose something specific one of these times.”

Starfire smirked at him in the reflection of the mirror, “Robin, between the two of us, you are the more fussy when it is in relation to food. I will simply eat whatever is offered.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He drawled playfully, causing her to laugh. 

They dipped into a comfortable state of silence for a moment, with Starfire checking her appearance to ensure there was nothing that needed fixing before they left the tower.

“Hey Star?”

“Yes?”

“What’s this?”

Starfire froze and spun around, already aware of what he was referring to since she had accidentally left it in the middle of her bed.

Robin held a purple journal between his fingers and wore a curious look on his face as he gently waved it at her,

“Uh…” She stammered, suddenly feeling embarrassed by it,

He tilted his head and smiled calmly, “I’m assuming a diary?”

She slowly nodded, realizing her cheeks were probably as red as tomatoes. She made her way back to the bed, murmuring, “You are... not going to read it?”

He frowned and his brows knitted together, “Course not. It’s personal to you. I was just wondering, is all.”

Starfire twiddled her fingers before she let her shoulders drop and she let go of the ball of anxiety that had formed in her stomach.

She came and sat beside him, right on the edge of the bed and retrieved it. She held it in her hands for a long moment, contemplating whether or not to share what it actually was with Robin.

He placed a gentle hand on her thigh, followed by Robin inclining his head to look at her, “Star?”

“It is… not really a diary as such… it is a… book of memories.” She admitted, chewing on her lower lip,

“Oh?”

“I… it is truly very silly-” She deflected, waving her hand dismissively,

“You? Silly? Never.” Robin grinned, setting her at ease as best he could. He hoped that she knew he would never think that of something she held so dear and apparently cherished.

Starfire relaxed and smiled back at her boyfriend, before she took a breath and opened up the book to the middle pages.

Scooting closer to him, Starfire smiled shyly as Robin wrapped an arm loosely around her waist and peered over her shoulder at the journal.

“This is a book that I keep with things about Tamaran inside. There are recipes and festivals and memories… amongst many other things…” She told him quietly, allowing him to carefully turn the pages and scan all of her entries.

The paper was thin but well used, with recipe instructions for ‘galseltoff’ and ‘zorkaberry hutsenfal’ amidst others, written in violet cursive across numerous pages.

Festivals of all kinds littered several pages, explaining when they took place and what they paid tribute to. 

Traditions and values of Tamaranean culture were scribbled down in blue ink, with some facts about Tamaraean history circled in the corners of the pages; like little reminders.

There was a page with battle and fighting techniques that were native to Tamaran, along with weapon types and uses. 

When he flipped another page, there was a whole list of Tamaranean words and phrases, with a few of them matched with the English equivalent, which Robin took particular interest in since he had previously mentioned to Starfire that he would like to learn some Tamaranean in the future.

There was one page further into the journal that listed more scientific things such as Tamaran’s moon count, the planet’s axis, the coordinates to get there through the solar system and even what stars could be seen only from Tamaran; ones that could not be spotted from Earth.

He whistled and shook his head in surprise, “Wow. Star, this is… how long have you been writing in this thing?”

“Um… since we returned from Tamaran after Blackfire attempted to force me into marriage…” Starfire answered, nervously twirling a strand of hair around her index finger.

“There’s so much information here… I could probably do a crash course in understanding Tamaran from this alone.” Robin chuckled,

Starfire smiled but tilted her head, “You… do not think it is… silly?”

“Why would I think that?”

The Princess shook her head and shrugged, twisting her fingers self consciously, “Well… I keep this journal to remind myself of Tamaran. I… write memories that I cherish or things that I miss or… things that I might forget.”

Robin frowned and laced his fingers with hers, “Star, that doesn’t make it silly. It’s great that you don’t want to forget where you come from.”

She ducked her head and blushed, giving him a small smile, “I did not want any of you to find it and think that…” She bit her lip as she grappled for the best way to phrase herself, “that I do not love Earth when I am… so at home here.” 

“Of course. We know that.” He paused and eyed her carefully, “Is… everything okay?”

“Yes!” She blurted before she took a breath and her expression faded ever so slightly, “I am… extremely happy here. I just… have been feeling the ‘homesick’ lately and have been missing Tamaran…”

She trailed off and glanced down at her book, wistfully rubbing her thumb over the worn down pages where she had written so much about her home world. She swallowed and Robin couldn’t help but squeeze her hand, in reassurance.

“Star… you can talk to me, you know.” He whispered, using his free hand to brush some of her long tresses behind her ear, a gesture that allowed him to see the unshed tears in his girlfriend’s eyes, “Hey…” 

Starfire closed her eyes briefly to rid herself of the tears and took a deep breath, turning her body towards Robin for a sort of comfort, “I am sorry… I just… become scared that I will… lose contact with Tamaran and start to forget the things that I loved about it.” She paused and shrugged one shoulder, “It has been so long since I travelled to Tamaran and despite enjoying being able to regularly speak with Galfore via transmissions… it is… difficult sometimes.”

“Star…” Robin breathed, his brows knitted together in concern. He moved a hand to her back, gently rubbing in circles to show her some affection to help her talk,

“I worry that… with my life now being on Earth… I will forget Tamaranean traditions and culture and I do not want to.” She took a breath and looked into his face, “I am… the only one of my kind on this whole planet and it saddens me. I do not have people around me that I can talk about Tamaran with and expect them to understand. My culture is strange for humans to understand which is why… I do not bring traditions or things that remind me of Tamaran up around the tower much anymore… it is not your culture so it feels… wrong to push it on you all…” 

Robin blinked in shock and sat back, “Star… we’ve never felt like you shouldn’t share your culture with us. We find it pretty fascinating because it is so different to things on Earth. We don’t understand all of it, that’s true but we’re happy to hear about it because it’s a part of you and we love you. We want you to feel happy and comfortable on Earth, even if that means you’re baking…” He paused and flipped a few pages back, “Yickelnurf Pie… every single night.”

Starfire giggled and smiled serenely at him, thankful that he understood her concerns. She felt her heart flutter as he stared back at her; despite being together for quite a while now, he never failed to reassure her in times of doubt.

“Please don’t ever feel like you have to hide the Tamaranean traits and culture from us, Starfire. I love learning about where you come from and I promise, I will never get tired of hearing things about Tamaran.” He vowed, “And I really hope you’re gonna take me seriously about learning some Tamaranean because… I think it would be pretty cool to be able to speak to each other in your language.” 

“It can be… difficult to learn.” She warned him, looking sheepish,

“I’m always up for a challenge.” He replied, grinning at her so that she knew he was determined,

Slowly, a smile stretched across her face, illuminating all of her beautiful features and giving her that ethereal aura that she so usually had. 

“Thank you, Robin.” She murmured, sighing and resting her forehead against his, feeling more at ease in knowing she at least had him to share her culture with and that was more than enough for her,

“Also… maybe we should take a trip to Tamaran soon… that way you can show us things in person that you tell us about.” Robin whispered, staring at her gorgeously green eyes,

“Truly?” 

“Mhm.”

“I would like that very much.” She mumbled, a warmth spreading across her skin in her growing joy.

Suddenly, there was a quiet rumbling that came directly from her stomach. Her eyes widened and she jerked back, glancing down at herself, “Oh.”

“Hungry?” Robin chuckled, 

“It would seem so.” She replied, bashfully,

Robin slowly got to his feet and pulled her up with him, where he still had their hands joined as one. She stood tall before him and smiled as his hands moved to her waist,

“So… what food on Earth reminds you of Tamaranean food?” Robin asked,

Starfire blinked and tapped her chin in thought, “Mm… I believe the seafood is most like my favourite Tamaranean dishes.”

“Okay… so how about we go to Sakura?” He suggested, 

Her eyes lit up in delight at that, nodding her head enthusiastically, “Oh! Yes. I most enjoy their food. Japanese cuisine is extremely delicious.” 

“It’s the squid or octopus that reminds you of Tamaranean stuff, isn’t it?” 

Starfire giggled, “Yes.”

Robin grinned and softly rubbed the palms of his hands up and down the lengths of her arms, “Did you know, it’s almost been two years since we were in Japan?” 

“It has been that long?” Starfire gasped,

He nodded, “Yup. We’re heading for 2 years together.” 

Starfire lifted a hand to his face, her slender fingers caressing his cheek and she leaned in, pressing her lips to his. A thrill ran through her as his fingers tightened against her hips, desperate to keep her there forever. 

Her free hand found his chest and she fisted the material of his uniform to bring him as close to her as possible. Robin ran his tongue along her bottom lip, teasing and testing to see how far she wanted to take this kiss.

Starfire’s hand slipped from his cheek and slid up his neck, toying with the ebony hair at the nape of his neck.

Soon enough, the red headed alien pulled away, pressing one last quick peck to his mouth before she backed off entirely, her eyes fluttering open to stare at him in a dreamlike manner,

Robin sighed but kept her firmly rooted to the spot, not quite ready to let her disentangle herself from his arms, “Mm… what was that for?” 

“A thank you… for the past… almost 2 years.” Starfire whispered, “As well as every year since I arrived on this planet.” 

“Always, Star.” Robin told her,

She nuzzled his cheek with hers before she stepped out of his affectionate hold completely and simply stood, holding his hand in hers.

“Ready to go?” Robin checked,

“Ready.” Starfire beamed, truly grateful to have met this masked boy when she had first crash landed on Earth and to have the privilege to call him her best friend and boyfriend.

[heyyyharry]

flatmate harry’s car breaks down before they start dating and he has to take the bus w yn?

It’s 1AM and my brain decides that I should write something instead of getting some sleep.

.

“Why are you always complaining? Our planet is dying and you’re here bitching about your car breaking down!”

Harry suddenly froze, his eyes widened at his flatmate but a smile immediately spread across his face.

Annoyed, she lifted an eyebrow. “What?”

“Did you just say ‘bitching’?”

“I’m nineteen. I’m allowed to curse.”

“Oh, so my sweet Y/N is all grown up, eh?”

She slapped his hand away when he attempted to pinch her cheek. They were too busy annoying one another that they completely forgot they weren’t the only ones at the bus stop. There was also an old lady, who was irritated by them arguing since the moment they got here.

“She clearly doesn’t want you, son. Give up,” said the old woman as she fixed her sunglasses.

Y/N bowed her head and mumbled a quick apology. Harry, on the other hand, seemed as chill as ever. He laughed and threw an arm over his flatmate’s shoulders. “It’s okay, ma’am. She’s my girlfriend. We’re just teasing, right babe?”

Y/N dropped her jaw at the nickname. “Babe?!”

“Oh, the bus is here, babe!” He cut her off, smiling from ear to ear.

The lady only shot them a glare and quickly got on the bus to get away from them as fast as she could. Despite the grumpy look Y/N was giving him, Harry stroked her head like a cat and urged her to hurry up so they wouldn’t get left behind.

“Don’t sit next to me.”

Confused, Harry watched the girl sit down and place her bag on the empty seat by her side. Ouch, he thought.

“Where else would I sit?”

“Anywhere but here?” She said, not looking at him.

Normally he would’ve sat down anyway just to annoy her, but the looks the others were giving him made him extremely uncomfortable. So he remained silent and chose a seat two rows behind Y/N.

Good riddance, he told himself.

He didn’t want to sit next to her anyway. As if it wasn’t bad enough that he had to be around her almost 24/7 and she was constantly breathing down his neck. He would get his car fixed this afternoon, so this would be the first and the last time he’d take the bus with her.

Content with that thought, Harry sat back and relaxed as he watched the buildings and the trees sliding past the window on his right. It was actually pleasant. Well, that was until the bus stopped once again to pick up a new passenger.

He recognized the guy for he’d seen him a few times in his Business Ethics class. He’d never spoken to him, but apparently Y/N had. The guy gave her a little wave as she did the same. To Harry’s surprise, she removed her bag to make room for him to sit down next to her, where Harry should’ve been.

Despite having told himself that he’d feel better back here, those two sitting together was definitely a sight for sore eyes. Did they sit together everyday? How did they meet? What did they usually talk about during the long bus ride?

All those questions made his stomach twist in an awful way and he felt the need to go over there and scare off the dude.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to distract himself with happy thoughts, which were all useless now that Y/N was laughing at something the fucker had just said to her.

That’s it, said the voice inside Harry’s head.

Before his brain could decide what was the right thing to do, his feet sent him up from his seat and took him to where Y/N and her ‘friend’ were sitting.

“Hey, Y/N, got gum?”

“No?” She looked at him funny. He guessed she could already tell that was just a lame excuse to get her attention. But screw it, everyone had been silently judging him since he got on this bus, he had no dignity left now.

“Okay.” He gave her a shrug before turning to the other guy.

“I’m her flatmate,” said Harry with a smile.

Smiling back, the boy introduced himself as Robert, or Robin, or Robot. It didn’t matter what his name was, because Harry was too busy reading Y/N’s facial expression and trying to guess what she was thinking of.

Robot mentioned something about him always admiring how Harry knew all the answers in class. Flattering, yes, but Harry had heard the same thing from almost everyone he knew so it wasn’t really a big deal.

“Why don’t you sit down like any normal person would?” Y/N gave him a sarcastic smile which only amused him.

He smiled back, titling his head and pouting a bit. “Aww, are you worried that I might get aching feet?”

“No, I’m worried that people might assume we’re friends.”

“Funny little thing you are.” He chuckled then turned to Robot, pointing to the paper cup he was holding. “What’s that?”

“Black coffee.”

“S’it good?”

“Don’t answer him,” said Y/N, but neither of the boys paid attention to her now.

“Wanna try?” Robot offered Harry his drink. And so Harry didn’t hesitate as he accepted the cup and took a sip.

“Hmm.” He smiled, licking his upper lip. The way Y/N rolled her eyes and pinched her temple was very entertaining to him. There was something so satisfying about getting a reaction from her, negative or not. Maybe that was why he loved teasing her.

He was about to hand the cup back to Robot to keep on being annoying until the poor kid gave up the seat next to Y/N. But then the bus driver decided to take a sudden turn. All the passengers nearly had a heart attack when Robot screamed and jumped right out of his seat. The cup in Harry’s hand a second ago had fallen onto the floor, now empty, as black coffee was dripping down from the poor guy’s crotch.

Harry tried his best not to laugh as he covered his mouth and said, “I’m so sorry, mate—“

Robot didn’t even let him finish that sentence. He aggressively pushed Harry aside and carried his bag to the back of the bus, not even saying a word to Y/N, who was just as appalled as anyone else there.

Harry watched him go and his eyes soon fell back on his startled flatmate.

“What was that?!” She questioned when he sat down next to her.

“An accident?” He scoffed. “You saw how sharp that turn was. Lucky for me I didn’t fall.”

Y/N groaned and buried her face into her palms. Once again, her reaction made him laugh.

“Not funny!”

“It kind of was. I feel bad for his penis. That coffee was hot.”

She glared at him. “Why can’t you just be serious for once?”

“Oh you want me to be serious?” He sat up straight, his eyebrows furrowed all of a sudden. “How would you feel if I asked you to not walk too close to me, nor sit next to me, nor even talk to me? This is my first time taking the bus to campus, at least be nice about it. I would never do such things to you.”

Her attitude toward him had never changed that fast. In a split second, the look in her eyes turned from anger to guilt as she drew her bottom lip between her teeth, stuttering for a moment before she could say, “I’m sorry...I-I won’t do that again.”

“Gosh.” He breathed, holding her gaze. “You apologized so quickly it’s...actually cute.”

As his mouth spread into a cheeky grin, hers fell opened and her face were all red. She smacked him on the arm, her eyebrows snapped together. “Damn you! Is everything a joke to you?”

“No!” He put up both hands, trying to contain his laughter. “You did hurt my feelings!”

“Yeah, right. As if you had feelings.” She crossed her arms and looked straight ahead instead of at him. What she couldn’t see now was the way he was smiling at her, like she was the most precious thing in the world. Clearly, that wasn’t how you looked at someone you claimed to hate.

“Listen,” he broke the silence between them after a few seconds. “You don’t have to apologize every time someone makes you think that you should. People will take advantage of you for that.”

She stayed silent, only giving him a nod to let him know she understood. That was when he noticed her expression softening, and his heart fluttered for a reason he couldn’t explain.

“Still want me to go?” He teased.

“No.” She shook her head despite not looking at him. “You’d cause trouble again. It’s better if you’d just sit still.”

“You could just say you love sitting next to me.”

“In your dream.”

He snorted at the response, and now couldn’t take his eyes off her lovely pouty face. And so he told himself, maybe taking the bus wasn’t so bad after all.

[agent-hood]

@the-roanoke-society

Nervous energy radiated from Carter’s every molecule, forcing Parker into a near-meditative stillness just to bring balance to the situation. Carter had been getting sent on more and more dangerous missions and wanted to seek some formal training for the particular brand of magic he possessed. So they sought help.

Kieran had been all too happy to direct them to Robin Goodfellow, who in turn got them in contact with his cousin, Fionn. The man agreed to meet with Carter to test his skill, but the twins had learned a bit too late that Fionn was the leader of the Brightguard, the only martial group the Seelie court held. So meeting them was a big deal. Like a child on their school’s yearbook committee landing an interview with the panel responsible in determining who to award the Nobel Peace Prize.

It had planted a seed in Carter which Parker thought him previously incapable of growing- insecurity. She already knew that there wasn’t anything this Fionn could do that her brother couldn’t, but seeing him daunted turned what would have been polite cordiality into a contrarian indifference. She didn’t care if he was the most powerful being in all the universes, so long as his existence made Carter feel bad then in her eyes he was less important than the dirt beneath her heel.

“Maybe we shouldn’t meet with them.” He started as they walked ever closer to the agreed meeting spot. “We can say I came down with the flu or something and couldn’t make it- I’m sure they’d understand.”

Parker sighed and stopped them. They were just about to the edge of the clearing and definitely past the point of no return.

“Carter, you know I’ll back you up whatever you decide, but you wanted to do this to help take some of the work off dad’s plate. It’s gotten a little over our heads I’ll admit but we shouldn’t lose focus just because there’s some uppity knight who thinks he can talk to trees better than you can.”

“Who’s uppity?” Came a robust voice only a few yards ahead of them. Parker was proud of herself for not jumping right out of her skin in surprise, but she put that aside to reach for Carter’s hand when she noticed he had grown pale in response.

Before them were four figures (each she learned through research was a ‘general’ of the guard and a master of a respective elemental magic). The one who spoke, who she could only assume was Fionn, was a near-perfect physical specimen, if your type was golden and sculpted. The other man hung towards the back, also handsome and tall, but with darker features and enormous wings. He looked like someone took an angel and gave him levels of romanticized angst that teenagers could only dream about.

The other two were women, and couldn’t look more different if they tried. One stood rigidly at Fionn’s side, a statuesque beauty but looking like she’d rather be anywhere else. And the other was slight, possibly even shorter than Parker, with almond eyes and a bright smile as she waved at them both.

“I think she’s talking about you of course.” The smaller one said, giving Fionn an impish grin.

“...she wouldn’t necessarily be wrong.” The other woman said (making Parker immediately like her).

“Fionn.” He said, stepping forward to introduce himself, hand extended and grin that said he was entirely too sure of himself. They shook politely.

“I’m Parker and this is my brother, Carter. I trust Robin informed you of our situation?”

“He did yeah...” he said, rubbing his chin casually (and setting off Parker’s internal alarm bells that he was set on toying with them). “But the thing is, I’m a very busy man. There are plenty of full-blooded fae out there who would swim through a river of silver to have me show them the ropes.”

Parker glanced at Carter and nearly saw red. his eyes were fixed on the ground and he was biting his lip; He wasn’t pale and nervous anymore, he was ashamed. As much as she wanted to walk away or chew him out right there, this was still a high-ranking member of the Seelie court and the cousin of their father’s friend. If she was going to get an apology from him (and she would), then it had to be worked for.

“You doubt his ability?”

“I just need a demonstration to see where we need to start from is all- I said I would assist and I’m a man of my word.”

“Almost too many...” Parker muttered darkly, words slipping out before she could catch them.

“What was that?”

Shit.

“Well, you said a lot about your time and importance, but how do we know you’re in a position to train Carter?”

“I’ll have you know I have mastered complete command of all botanical and earth-related magic for longer than your ancestors have been around.”

“And I’ll have you know that my brother is more talented than anyone I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m sure he is talented as much as he can be, but let’s face it- you are just a human so how much can you have seen?”

“You know what- you seem so sure in this-“ “I am.” “So it would be no issue for you to prove it.” “None at all.” “So what do you say to a friendly spar?” “Oh please-“ “and if I win, you have to take back what you said.” “You!? Well IF you can land any hit I’d be glad to do so. But what do I get out of this?” “Well IF you’re able to prove to me you’re just as powerful as you say you are- I’d be happy to admit you’re the better fae.”

With that same smug grin as before, he extended his hand in acceptance. As Parker reached to shake it, Carter and the other’s voices rang out to try and stop them; saying that they were being immature/had nothing to prove.

“STAY OUT OF THIS.” They both yelled in unison before snapping their attention back to each other as they shook hands in agreement. Parker walked a ways away (to what she assumed would be the edge of their ‘arena’) and collected her thoughts.

She had been trained for this- not just taking down guys four times her size (thanks to Joe for insisting on a combat-focused regimen), but taking down their power.

Remembering her training with Louise and Rae, she calmed her heart rate, stilled her breath, found where her own power lay within her (dormant and hungry and so different and misplaced compared to anything else), and reached.

It was satisfyingly easy, to feel Fionn’s own power (vibrant and green- he wasn’t boasting about how powerful he was), and to cloak it. Like snuffing out a candle from a person who thought it was the sun. So long as she maintained focus on that, she’d have the upper hand.

‘Alright, hard part over.’ She thought as she moved into a defensive stance, telegraphing that he would have to make the first move in this fight. And he did, coming at her slow and obvious- letting her know that she wasn’t even worth the effort of pretending he wasn’t taking it easy. Parker just added that to the pile of mistakes and assumptions he was making.

It was an easy strike to deflect and even easier to move away from. She debated the risk of continuing on with this pattern until he grew tired, but something told her his stamina would outlast hers. No she would need to end this soon.

She was quick, but Fionn was able to keep up. Parrying every potential hit with an ease that came from centuries of practice, and always gentle. Batting her fists away like they were flies, redirecting any kick like they were dancing. He might have been able to physically keep time with her, his patience couldnt.

She saw the exact moment when it happened- when Fionn attempted to use his powers and couldn’t. A look, half wild panic and half unfiltered rage, clouded his blue eyes as he realized exactly who was responsible and what she was capable of.

‘Perfect- now we can finally start.’

He came at her then, no longer holding back or staying still, and a terrible and deep part of Parker was thrilled at it. At finally being challenged, at reaching that point where it was all instinct; where she got her best results.

Soon enough they were both heaving and dizzy from the effort- but still without a clear winner. Parker had taken a few blows, but that was expected, and nothing that had made her yield.

Finally, she saw an opening- after stepping to the side he didn’t follow fast enough and his back was to her. She seized the opportunity and made to strike, but realized too late that it was exactly what he wanted her to do.

Before she could blink, Parker found herself pinned to the ground, winded from the force of it. But if he expected her to admit defeat at this point then that would be his mistake. Just because she couldn’t move her limbs did not mean she couldn’t win.

Thrusting her head forward she was able to catch him off guard with a headbutt, unfortunately her angle wasn’t perfect and a balloon of pain burst across her face where she was sure she had broken her nose. Thankfully, her gambit had paid off and Fionn had fallen back in a daze.

For a long moment nothing happened, with both of them holding their faces in an attempt to regain their bearings.

“Okay...” Fionn said, voice sounding tired but not nearly as winded or hurt as Parker hoped. “I yield. You made your point and got a solid hit in... I’m sorry.”

“Yeah...” She sighed in agreement. “I yield too. Although I’m not apologizing.”

“You don’t need to.” He groaned as he pulled her up to stand. “I am fully able to admit I was in the wrong here. I took your lineage as an indicator for talent and made assumptions.”

Parker was suddenly swept up in a crushing hug as Carter finally reached her.

“Dammit Park, dont ever do something like that again no matter how badass it is! Just look at your nose- what is dad going to say?”

“Whatever he’d like, but I think he’s going to be more preoccupied with the news that Carter is going to get the training he needs.” Fionn jumped in, clapping a friendly hand on Carter’s shoulder, The ‘cocky asshole’ impression now fully gone. “You’ve gotta let me in on how you were able to override my power. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

“Oh well Parker can nullify fae-magic. It’s her own special ‘thing’.” Carter offered as everyone else drew closer, speaking to them as if they were new friends. It brought Parker back to when they were in highschool and her twin was able to fit in wherever he went, able to make everyone feel like they were part of the ‘cool kids’.

“Nah, I felt that immediately. I’m talking about when halfway through and it slipped- I still tried to reach out. I commanded the trees to intervene and restrain her but... nothing.”

“Oh!” Carter began to look sheepish at that. “I, uh, kinda asked them not to? It’s just- I really wanted Parker to win.”

The surprised and silent smiles that each of them grew made the fight (and broken nose) absolutely worth it to Parker. Granted she hadn’t been aware her control had slipped, but having Carter there more than made up for it.

“Carter... it is going to be a genuine honor to train you.”

[eldritchsurveys]

549.

What type of bread did you use on the last sandwich you made? >> Buttermilk bread.

& What was on said sandwich? >> Turkey, pepper jack, broccoli slaw, pickles, and mustard.

How many doors are in your house? >> Not counting closet doors, five.

Got any bad habits? If so, what are they? >> Yeah. Picking at my lips is the major one.

What was the last compliment you recieved, that made you smile? >> I don’t remember the last compliment I received, period.

Do you ever lie to your friends? >> No. I have nothing worth lying about, really.

If so, do you feel bad about it after? >> ---

Think you need to lose weight? How much? >> Sometimes I’m fooled into thinking so, but I don’t actually need to, no.

When was the last time you watched a VHS movie? >> Damn... probably 2003 or so.

What event would you go back in time to see, if you could? >> *shrug*

Do you remember the last thing you said you wanted? >> I don’t.

Who was the last friend you hung out with&what’d you do together? >> Eli, at the post-wedding brunch.

Who is the person, other than a spouse, that you are closest to? >> Er. I feel close to inworlders. I don’t know how to gauge closeness to outworlders.

Do you know when to use ‘to’ & ‘too’? >> Sure.

Who do you currently live with? >> Sparrow and a cat we have yet to officially name.

Favorite board game? >> ---

If you watched it, who was your favorite ‘Hey Arnold!’ character? >> I didn’t watch it.

Have any good school pictures? or do they all just suck? >> I don’t have any school pictures. My father has/had them all.

How old were first kiss? >> ---

Do you ever wonder what people think when they look at you? >> Yeah.

Do you like trying on clothes or not? & Why? >> No, I hate trying on clothes. The whole process is just executive function hell and really annoying. Also, it’s a great way to trigger some spicy dysphoria.

What are your thoughts on marriage? >> I have no real thoughts about it. It doesn’t strike me as a particularly remarkable part of my life, probably because we’re not terribly fussed about monogamy or child-rearing or anything like that. It strikes me more as a convenience than anything else.

What was your favorite toy as a kid? >> Ones that mimicked computers. And then I got an actual computer, and a monster was created.

Do you still play with it or have it? >> No.

Are you currently IN love with anyone? >> No.

Difference between loving someone&being in love with someone? Yes or no? >> I have no idea what “being in love” even means, so.

Don’t you hate when reruns on TV are in a random order? >> Not unless it’s a serial with a specific plot. But even then, if it’s a show I’ve already seen, then I already have the context in mind so it’s not a big deal.

Do you ever watch any crime shows? >> Not anymore. I was obsessed with Investigation Discovery a few years ago, but those kinds of shows get so samey after a while.

If so, which do you watch the most/is your favorite? >> ---

Ever smoke pot? >> Yeah.

Don’t you hate when people you love/care about annoy you with stupid crap? >> I don’t enjoy being annoyed, just like anyone else. But like... something about the way this question is worded seems loaded.

Do you ever get frustrated&say 'nevermind’ when people just don’t get it? >> Yeah.

Still have feelings for an ex? >> No.

Have you ever SERIOUSLY considered any kind of plastic surgery? >> Only top surgery.

What was the last thing you cleaned&why? >> I don’t remember.

Don’t those weightloss pill commercials just irritate you? >> I don’t see them, usually. But that sort of thing definitely irritates me.

Before taking this survey, what were you thinking of? >> I don’t remember.

How long have you lived in the current place you’re living? >> Over 3 and a half years.

Do you plan on moving anytime soon, if so where? >> I don’t know if we’ll attempt to move when this year’s lease is up, or not. I don’t think we can afford to live anywhere else at this point, being that this complex is actually lower than the average price for a 2br, 1 1/2ba apartment. (If they keep raising our rent, though, it might end up catching up. :| )

Does blood make you queasy? >> No.

Do you ever walk alone at night just because, or does that freak you out? >> I mean, I’ve done so, yeah. Walking alone at night hasn’t ever freaked me out.

What happened in the last TV show you watched? >> The main characters of The Good Place find out whether their afterlife experiment has convinced the judge that humans are not innately good or bad. Hijinks ensue.

Do you ever correct grammar/spelling errors your friends make? >> No. 

Or do you just not care about that stuff? >> I really the fuck don’t.

Don’t you think things are getting wayyy too pricey? >> No? I mean, a lot of things are pricey in comparison to my income level, but they’ve been that way for as long as I’ve been alive.

Facebook, wasn’t 'become a fan’ better than 'like’? >> I don’t care about this.

What do you think was the best year you ever had? >> ---

Are you more of a follower, or a leader? Be honest. >> It depends on how much I care about what’s going on, and how much contempt I have for the other people involved.

Are your dreams/nightmares in black&white or color? >> In colour, I assume.

Or do you not even remember any of them? >> I rarely remember my dreams properly, but I’ve never had the impression that they were in anything but colour.

Have you ever wanted to be some sort of hero outside of videogames? >> No. Sometimes I don’t even want to be one in video games.

Will you admit that you’re at least somewhat superficial? >> Sure, it doesn’t bother me to say that.

Most attractive actor/actress that comes to mind right this second? >> Joaquin Phoenix.

How often do you go to the mall closest to you? >> Eh, maybe once a month. Well, there are two that are pretty much equidistant from me, and I usually go to Rivertown Crossings more often than I go to Woodland. But Woodland has the Red Robin right there, and that’s always tempting... (Fuck, now I want Red Robin.)

What physical features can you just not stand about yourself? >> I’d rather not think about that right now.

Do you still count with your fingers, even if only every so often? >> Yeah, every so often.

The last flavor of gum you chewed? >> Bubble gum.

Have you ever gone on a road trip with just friends? >> No.

What was the last thing you had to drink & was it yummy? >> Water. It was fine.

What word or words do you think you say the most? >> I have no idea.

Without trying, do you act differently around different friends? >> Sure, because different people bring out different aspects of your being.

What was the last thing you drew/wrote on your own or someone elses’ skin? >> I don’t remember.

Did you know your nose continues to grow/get longer as you get older? >> That’s not something I was ever made aware of, and I’m not sure I believe it.

The last time you spent money, what was it on & how much did you spend? >> I spent $21 (with tip) at J. Gardella’s Tavern yesterday. Oh, and I spent $18 (with tip) on a Lyft to Sparrow’s job.

What’s the most money you’ve ever spent on one piece of clothing? >> I don’t remember the most money I personally spent on a piece of clothing. But the most expensive clothing item I currently own is my suit (which Sparrow’s mother paid for).

Don’t you believe you’re not really a vegetarian if you still eat chicken >> Yeah, because chicken is a meat and vegetarians don’t eat meat.

Who was the last person you avoided/ignored? >> *shrug*

In elementary school, were you more of the bully or the bullied? >> I was the bullied.

How much do you say you walk in a week outside of school &/or work? >> Like, not much. Especially now that it’s cold.

Did the last person you talked to in person annoy you in anyway? >> No.

Where are you sitting right now? >> On my bed.

[iturbide]

Honestly, bless you and your writing! Quality content fadgsaffsg-- But what if something super bad happened? Like the summoner somehow got captured by maybe Muspell (Surtr?) ovo I'm imagining the reasoning could be something like 'Askr is nothing without their precious summoner. Watch as their mockery of a kingdom falls apart even before I raze it to the ground.' kinda deal? How would Grima (and the whole castle by proxy I suppose) react? :>

quality content I am so flattered okay i’m still screaming about this

but okay you see this

this prompt

this set my brain on fire

so please forgive me for the fact that this monster is literally 6,500 words long and clocks in at a full 18 pages

If you’ve read anything else of mine that exceeds a thousand words, I like to change perspective sometimes.  For ease of understanding, asterisks (*) represent a perspective shift, dashes (-) represent a scene shift.  The first bit is there as a teaser, the part below the cut is significantly larger, you have been warned. 

Kiran was fairly certain by now that combat would never become familiar.  Nothing in their prior life could have prepared them for this, and even with as many fights as they’d seen (and between the conflict with first Embla, now Múspell, and all of the battles waged for practice in the Training Tower or sport in the Arena, they had seen a lot), it never really felt natural or right, sending soldiers – friends – onto the field to fight and bleed and sometimes fall for the Askran cause.  

Perhaps it was good that war did not sit well with them.  But regardless of their feelings, they had a job to do here, and they intended to do it well.  Anything to keep Askr from becoming a mirror of Nifl’s scorched wasteland: the further they traveled, the more wreckage they encountered, empty towns covered in snow that could not hide the burned remains of what had once been thriving communities.

As they continued their trek toward Nifl’s former capital, the Askran forces had run afoul of Múspell soldiers camped in one of the ruined villages.  Tagging Ike, they glanced briefly at his health, winced, and instead sent Lissa to heal him before ordering the young mercenary into a green mage’s line of fire.  Robin moved to intercept a mounted archer encroaching on their flank, sending a conspiracy of magic ravens tearing through the bowman’s defenses, while overhead a six-winged dragon banked slowly over the battle, awaiting his next command.

“We might need to retreat,” Kiran muttered as enemy reinforcements appeared upfield, well beyond their line of sight but easily tracked by the tactical map piped into their phone.  The axe fighter and the red manakete wouldn’t be so bad, with Alphonse and Sharena to intercept them, but the cavalier with the firesweep lance was another matter…

“The situation hardly seems so dire.”

The Summoner looked up at the hooded figure leaning over their shoulder, a wry smile twitching across their face.  “When did you take over as the Order’s tactician?”

Grima rolled his eyes, keeping easy pace with the Kiran as they picked their way through the remnants of the village square.  Several of the houses beyond remained more or less intact: the narrow streets would afford them a good choke point to deal with additional reinforcements, provided they could keep their ranks in order.  Humming thoughtfully to themselves as they climbed the steps of an abandoned home, Kiran drew the Askran fighters one by one across the on-screen grid, casting a quick glance back the way they’d come to see faintly glowing marks on the ground leading into the plaza.  They still had no idea what Breidablik had done to their phone, but it had certainly been effective.

“Incoming,” the Summoner noted, listening to the approaching hoofbeats.  “You ready?”

The fell dragon grinned, violet flames licking at his boots.  “Always,” he chuckled.  Though they both knew it wasn’t necessary, Kiran still moved Grima’s icon down the street as he advanced, the great six-winged form overhead descending to attack.  More reinforcements had appeared around the square, and the Summoner bit their lip as they sized up the new opposition, attempting to suss out the least risky solution to their predicament.  Tapping a few troops experimentally, Kiran gauged their chances…and, satisfied that they could pull off a defensive ploy, moved their allies one by one to engage the newly summoned soldiers, grinning as the blinding glow from Alphonse’s Sol momentarily brightened the overcast afternoon.  Grima’s dragon form screeched as an axe fighter filled the position occupied by the now fallen cavalryman, and the Summoner glanced briefly at the screen…only to chuckle at the damage predictor’s single-digit output.  Even with two hits, there was no chance they could take down the Wings of Despair.  Maybe they had been too hasty, considering retreat–

“Hello, Summoner.”

Kiran froze.

They hadn’t heard movement in the building behind them.  Hadn’t even considered that someone might be in there waiting – which was foolish, given the hard lesson they’d learned combatting the Black Knight not so long ago.  But they slowly raised their hands in the universal gesture of peaceful submission, taking great care not to disturb the blade pressed to their neck.

“Hello,” the Summoner replied, grateful that their voice did not quake the way the rest of them did.  “It’s Laegjarn, right?”

“I’m flattered that you recall my name,” the general chuckled.  “Perhaps you also recall my offer.”

“Surrender quietly and you won’t hurt me?”

“Your memory serves you well.  What say you?”

Kiran swallowed, feeling the sword’s edge burn their throat.  With the fight still raging out of sight in the plaza and Grima’s attention focused on the wyvern rider flying into range, no one had seen the enemy under their noses.  No help was coming.

Some tactician they turned out to be.

“I submit.”

“Very good.  Please disarm, Summoner.”

The blade at their throat relaxed an inch.  Nodding slightly, Kiran removed Breidablik from its place on their hip, kneeling to lay it on the stoop alongside their phone…

…and as they lingered, casting one last pleading look toward the fell dragon, they cranked the volume up to the max.  The music barely even reached their own ears over the pounding of their heart, and the general made no remark on it as the Summoner straightened.  

“Thank you for being so cooperative,” Laegjarn remarked, taking hold of Kiran’s arm and pulling them into the shadows of the scorched house.  The back half had collapsed, blackened beams jutting from the ash; the Múspell general paid the wreckage no mind as she guided them out onto the next road and past a fresh wave of soldiers.  “Retreat,” she ordered.  “We have what we came for.”

The troops pulled back from the village with shocking speed.  The Askran forces remained, perhaps confused by the swift turn of the tides, perhaps elated at their victory.  Kiran did not know.  They could only wonder what the Heroes would feel when they realized what they’d lost.

***

Grima frowned as the Múspell soldiers withdrew.  “Barely a challenge,” he snorted.

Something’s strange.

“I’m inclined to agree, given how fierce these forces are said to be–”

We were outnumbered.  There were still reinforcements coming in.  Why did they retreat?

He glanced up at the dragon floating lazily overhead.

A wyvern rider tried to stab you in the face.  I don’t think the dragon really made much of an impression.

A grin twitched across Grima’s face as he moved back down the icy road.  Kiran had left the doorstep; turning into the square, the fell dragon joined the other Heroes that had gathered, submitting without complaint to the fair-haired cleric’s treatment.

“I was worried for a moment there,” the Askran princess giggled.  “There were so many of them!”

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Ike muttered, the words clearly at odds with the wounds the healer had yet to mend.

“What troubles me is how quickly the tides turned,” Alphonse said.  “Our enemy has shown fearsome skill at predicting our course of action and heading us off…they may seek to lure us into a trap.”

“Where’s Kiran?” Anna asked.  “Perhaps they’ll have some insight…”

All eyes turned to Grima.

A sense of disquieting unease crawled down his spine.  “I did not see them when the battle ended.  I thought they had joined you here.”

But scanning the worried Heroes that turned to look amongst each other, he found no trace of the Summoner.

“They can’t be far…right?” Lissa asked, wringing her staff between her hands.

“Let’s look for them.  Perhaps they were sidetracked investigating something,” Robin suggested, the slight tremor in his voice betraying his otherwise calm logic.

The fell dragon retraced his steps as the other members of the Order fanned out through the square, calling to the Summoner to reveal themselves.  Approaching the doorstep where he had left them, Grima narrowed his eyes at the open doorway leading into the wreckage.  Had it been ajar before?  If Kiran intended this to be some prank–

That isn’t like them.

As he drew close, an odd sound snared Grima’s attention: a muffled, melodic hum from somewhere nearby.  Tilting his head, he peered up and down the street, toward the scorched eaves, down to the snowy ground…

Oh, gods.

The fell dragon crouched, lifting the Summoner’s magic tile off the step.  Free of the ice, the song it sang grew louder, a tense battle hymn that set his nerves on edge.  “Kiran,” he called, taking to his feet and striding through the doorway, out through the collapsed rear wall, and across the packed snow left by the enemy’s retreat.

No response.

They won’t hear you.

“Kiran!” Grima snarled, loud enough to echo through the wreckage, distorting beyond recognition.

They can’t hear you.

“KIRAN!!”

The dragon overhead shrieked in unison with him, sending scores of dark birds rushing from the forests on every side.  But as the ringing in his ears at last abated, nothing more than silence greeted him.

They’re gone.

—

The Order had searched.  They had scoured the woods until the last light left the sky, following the tracks left by the Múspell soldiers in hopes of finding the place where they converged; but even with six eyes overhead peering through the dark, they found no clues to spur their progress.

Nightfall forced their hand.  With few options and grave uncertainties of what lay ahead, the Order’s commander called for a retreat back to Askr to resupply and assess the situation.  And as little as Grima liked it, he had nothing better to offer.  

“We should gather reinforcements,” the Askran prince insisted as they strode through the luminous gateway into the plaza.  “The Múspell forces couldn’t have traveled far.  If we set off at dawn we may be able to catch up with them–”

“It’s too risky,” the commander replied.  “We don’t know how many soldiers they have.  Even if we were to take the whole of the Order, we’ve no guarantee of victory – and that could be exactly what they want, leaving Askr’s defenses weak for Surtr’s invasion force.  Until we know more, we should wait and prepare.”

“You would abandon them.”

The words echoed through the plaza, leaving silence in their wake.  Grima stalked forward, rage fueling the violet tongues of flame that swirled around him; only the warning from the presence in the back of his mind kept him from lifting the red-headed general off the ground by the front of her tunic.  The Askrans still retreated, warily touching their weapons as the fell dragon stared down at them.

“We’re not abandoning anyone,” Anna insisted, the tremor in her voice undercutting her patient tone.  “Rushing in will only put everyone at risk.”

“Múspell’s general is a formidable strategist, but has treated the people of Nifl fairly even after its fall,” Fjorm offered.  “If she has taken the Summoner, we can be assured of their safety until terms are delivered–”

“And if Surtr is responsible then they may be dead already,” Grima snarled.

“…we can’t afford to risk the Order, or the Summoner’s life, by rushing in ill prepared,” the commander repeated.  “We will make ready, and when we receive word–”

The fell dragon bared his fangs, feeling the pull of the great form atop the castle and wanting nothing more than to bring the walls crumbling down on the Askrans’ miserable heads…

That won’t help Kiran.

He hated that voice.  All the more for the fact that he knew that it spoke true.

Clenching his fists, Grima stormed from the plaza, winding his way through the halls and up to the castle roof where his six-eyed form roosted.  The dragon made a small noise of distress, six eyes fixed on the distant horizon while Grima settled against the parapets and struggled to fight down the rage burning its way through him.  “Miserable wretched cowardly worms, every one of them–”

They have some sound points.

“They’re leaving Kiran to die, how is that a sound point?”

If Surtr had been involved, we would have known it.  He likes to gloat too much.  He wouldn’t have retreated with Kiran, he would have made it known immediately what he’d done.  Odds are good that it is the general who’s responsible, then, and that gives us time to prepare.

“Prepare for what?  Do you really imagine their terms will be anything beyond ‘surrender or we slaughter the Summoner?’”

…unconditional surrender or providing Gunnthrá’s location would be my guess.

Grima sneered, pressing his fists to his forehead.  “How reassuring.”

What else can we do, though?

“How should I know?  As I recall, you were the genius tactician.”

The presence at the back of his mind had no response for that.

Heaving a heavy sigh, the fell dragon reached into the pocket of his coat, removing the Summoner’s magic tile.  The divine weapon they’d left behind had been left in the commander’s care…but Grima had kept the Summoner’s fohn.  The surface had gone dark, the eerie music silent now as he held the device in his palm…but as he prodded it experimentally, the screen flashed to light, a series of tiny white dots speckling the bottom of the screen.

He had watched Kiran toy with this blasted thing often enough.  Touching the surface, he drew his finger through several of the spots…and with a soft click, the tile’s surface rippled and changed, a faint red cast overtaking the screen.  Touching it lightly sent sparks dancing under his fingers…before a map of the Askran kingdom appeared, glowing stones marked with ornate banners scattered across the continent.  The Summoner had shown him this once before…tapping one the seals arranged along the bottom of the tile, he frowned at the banners filing down before his eyes.  Skills, seals, growth…tapping another made the surface shimmer into a list of even less helpful banners: dueling swords, stamina restoration, barracks expansion…

What are you looking for?

“There must be some way to help them,” the fell dragon muttered.  “If this so-called ‘Order of Heroes’ is as grand as the Askrans claim, there must be something…”

Like what?

“If I knew that, would I be searching?” Grima growled, squinting in the tile’s light and touching another symbol, only to find himself back on the map of the kingdom.  “Wretched thing…”

Try the last one.  On the right.

“I didn’t ask you,” Grima snarled.

…I want them back, too, you know.  But I don’t have a body anymore.  I can only help if you’ll let me.

Silence settled over the rooftop, broken only by the whisper of the breeze rustling the Askran flags flying high over the towers.  And finally, without ire or protest, the fell dragon touched the furthest symbol, scanning the list of banners that scrolled before his eyes.

There.  Catalog of Heroes.

Grima touched the words, watching the screen shimmer and change, displaying tiny portraits of the Heroes assembled within the Askran palace.  Dragging his fingertip along the edge sent the tiles trailing out of sight, replaced by new ones.  Some were familiar: Naga’s young daughter, the Hoshidan archer prince, the Ylissean tacticians…others much less so.

Touch one.

He did without argument.  The surface briefly darkened before an image appeared of a fair-haired man in red, a quiver of arrows secured at his side; a scroll emblazoned with a name and epithet hovered over a brief biography…

A strategist.

“How many do you think there are?” Grima asked quietly, touching the scrollwork arrows and browsing through the other Heroes.

If we’re lucky?  Enough.

The dragon felt a smile tug at his lips, exposing pale fangs to the moonlight.  “Then tell me, tactician: what will we need?”

—

It came as no surprise when the Askran troops made no move.  One day passed.  Then another.  A pall of silence hung over the castle; the Heroes carried on their conversations in hushed voices and terse words, half their attention seeming forever fixed on the gates leading to the lands beyond Askr in hopes that some message would arrive from beyond their borders.

None came.

And for that, Grima was grateful.  It would have been far more difficult to lay plans with the Order scrambling to meet Múspell’s demands.

Nightfall cleared the plaza.  None of the Heroes seemed interested in idle chatter when one of their own was missing.  And it made the task of locating them far easier as he stalked through the quiet barracks, glancing from door to door and knocking one by one on the rooms he and the tactician had so carefully chosen.

Responses were, as expected, mixed.  Soren had no interest in helping Grima, with his loyalties so firmly tied to the young mercenary swordsman; Ike, however, needed no encouragement at all to join when he heard the proposal, and in his wake the strategist grudgingly followed.  The Ylissean tacticians, meanwhile, were far more open to hearing the fell dragon out, though the rest of their exalted families harbored grave misgivings (and Grima felt a pang from the presence in his mind when Lucina touched her sword).

They assembled in the castle’s grand council chamber, taking their seats at the round table and looking among their number: four Ylissean tacticians in various states of dress and festive attire, one fair-haired Archanean archer, a stoic swordsman and his branded mage companion an Ostian spy with a sly smile and sharp eyes, and one Ylissean thief contemplating the gathering over a lollipop.

“You said this is about Kiran,” Ike said, breaking the uncomfortable silence at last.

“I did,” Grima agreed.  “And it is.”

“Have you seen something?” his counterpart ventured, glancing up at the ceiling as though searching for the six-winged form roosting far above.

“No,” the dragon replied.  “Which is why I asked you here.”

“…’fraid I don’t follow,” Gaius muttered.

Yes he does.  He just wants to hear you say it.

“How ‘bout you spell it out for us?” the thief continued, leaning far enough back in his chair to nearly upend it.

A smile carved its way across Grima’s face.  “Why are we all here in this place, fighting this war?”

“We were summoned,” Jeorge replied.  “By Kiran, and that strange weapon they hold.”

“I’m still not sure if we’re bound by contract or not,” Robin said, twisting a lock of long white hair around her finger.  “We can’t go home unless we’re sent back, but…”

“I don’t…exactly feel obligated to help here,” her twin agreed, adjusting the coat over her bare shoulders.  “Not like some of the Heroes we’ve encountered in Veronica’s ranks.

“Why is that?” the fell dragon asked.  “Why do you remain here, why do you commit yourself to the Askran cause, if not for a contract?”

“I’m only here because Ike is,” Soren grumbled.  

The swordsman paid him no mind, meeting Grima’s eye steadily.  “Kiran.”

“Kiran,” the fell dragon repeated, beginning to pace the length of the room.  “The Summoner.  The one who brought us together, who’s honed our skills, who’s afforded us every chance to better ourselves.  Who’s listened to us, and tried to help us find our places in this strange world.  Who’s seen us through countless battles and allowed us to be the Heroes we’ve been branded, regardless of our worth.”

You’re waxing poetic.

Kiran brought out a strange side of him.  Turning to the assembled Heroes, he leaned his weight against the table.  “Who’s now lost behind enemy lines, who’s been abandoned by the leaders of this Order, and who may be in danger.”

“You heard Anna,” the festive tactician noted uncomfortably, folding his mittened hands a few times.  “There’s too much of a risk, both to ourselves and to Kiran, to charge back in when we don’t know the full situation.”

A smile tugged at Grima’s lips, exposing the tips of his fangs.  “Then perhaps it would behoove us to rectify that.”

“…alright.  I’ll bite.  How?” Matthew asked, his smile twitching as he fought to keep it in place.

“A covert operation.”

All eyes turned to Grima’s doppelganger.  He folded his hands on the table, meeting the fell dragon’s eye steadily.  “That’s what you’d propose.  Isn’t it?”

“No wonder you need spies and strategists,” the woman seated beside him remarked.  “The first to slip into the Múspell camp, assess their forces and potential weak points; the other to take that and devise the plan to strike, extract Kiran, and retreat.”

“I’d expect nothing less from Ylisse’s illustrious tacticians,” the fell dragon murmured, inclining his head in agreement.

“Why, though?” Gaius asked, propping his boots on the edge of the table.  “What’s in it for you?”

The assembled Heroes turned their attention back to Grima.  He met their stares without flinching, standing tall beside his place at the table.  “You imagine I have selfish motivations.  And you are not mistaken.  Were it another, I would have no qualms about leaving them, whether they were royalty or the Order’s commander.  But this is Kiran.  They are a weak, wretched, pathetic excuse for a human, unable even to defend themselves in a fight.  I want them returned.  Nothing more.”

“…I would like to see the Summoner returned safely, myself,” Jeorge remarked, resting his chin on his hands as the other Heroes nodded in agreement.  “So, then.  Where do we begin?”

—

The council lasted well into the darkest hours of the night.  But their plans came together, bit by bit, until at last they parted ways to rest and prepare for the opportune moment.  Slipping through the plaza, Grima made his way toward the soft glow of the gates that led beyond the Askran kingdom.  If conditions were in their favor, they might be able to set things in motion with the next nightfall–

“Where is Kiran?”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder at Hoshido’s archer prince as he emerged from the shadows of the pillars.  “Not here,” the fell dragon replied brusquely.

“Where?”  His voice sounded hoarse. Narrowing his eyes, Grima watched the noxious violet fog swirl and eddy around the young man.  The possessed one, then.

The volatile one.

“I haven’t seen them since the battle,” the fell dragon said.

“I need to find them,” Takumi insisted.  “Where are they?”

“I could not say.  But they are not here.  Look elsewhere.”

“I’ve looked.  Everywhere.  Nowhere else to go.  I need to find them.”

“…why?” Grima asked.

“It won’t go away.”

The archer pressed a hand to his face, fingers curling into an unsteady fist.  “I try.  I try to block it out, but…the voice keeps telling me…to kill them, all of them, and I can’t make it stop, I need Kiran to make it stop, I need them, where are they…?”

“Gone.”

Takumi looked up, his expression an unsettling mask of distress and rage.  “Where?”

“Captured.”

Are you sure you should be telling him that?

“By who?” the archer growled.

“Múspell,” Grima replied.

“Get them back.”

“The Order intends to do nothing,” the fell dragon sneered.  “They will sit on their hands and wait for Surtr’s demands.  Or for him to put Kiran’s charred corpse on display.  Whichever comes first, I suppose.”

The mist around the prince seethed and roiled, and a thin smile cut across Grima’s face as he watched the bow at Takumi’s side begin to tremble.

You’re doing it on purpose.

“I will go.”

“The Order won’t allow it,” the fell dragon remarked.

“I don’t care.  I’ll go.  I’ll kill them all for Kiran, I’ll get them back, I’ll…”

“You want Kiran back so badly?” Grima murmured, knowing the answer even before he asked.  Takumi nodded, offering no more than a low, guttural noise of assent.  “Then collect yourself.”

The singer might be able to help.  Azura?  Kiran called her in to help before, I think…

The fell dragon gestured for Takumi to follow, making his way back into the halls.  Considering their purpose, a performer could prove advantageous, though a songstress ran the risk of betraying their position…

But if you plan to use him, you need a way to keep him together.  Besides, a singer doesn’t need room to perform the way a dancer does.  Reach out to the one in blue, she’ll have a better chance of blending into the dark.

The fell dragon grinned.  Perhaps it truly had been a stroke of luck that he’d been bound to a tactician’s body.

You can thank me any time.

…he might consider it if they succeeded.

***

Laegjarn had been true to her word: following the retreat from the village, the Múspell general had personally escorted the Summoner through the march to the edge of the forest before placing them – under heavy guard, of course – in a private tent near the heart of the camp.  While Kiran was grateful for that, it didn’t stop anxiety from gnawing a hole through their gut, leaving them queasy and sleepless through the next few days and nights.

It didn’t help that Surtr was on his way.  Laegjarn hadn’t said anything about it, but the Summoner had heard her call for a messenger shortly after they made camp.  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to guess what she was going to send.  

Aside from the unbearable waiting, though, it wasn’t as bad as Kiran might have expected.  No one bothered them, the general was conscious of their needs, and the conditions were more than fair given their prisoner status.

The Summoner wondered, often, as their nerves twisted their stomach into knots, what would end up happening to them.  Laegjarn had vowed that no harm would befall them, but with Surtr on the way, that seemed like a hard promise to keep.  Would she be able to convince her father to discuss nonviolent terms?  Would the flame king overrule his general and act on whatever violent whims ruled him?  Would…

…would the Order somehow find a way to save them?

Impossible as it seemed, that was the thought that gave them the most heart.  Heroes swooping in to the rescue, defeating the Múspell soldiers…

A flurry of activity on the third night made their heart seize up.  Kiran heard Laegjarn calmly directing the soldiers as she strode past the Summoner’s tent…and as she passed, someone entered: not the eldest princess of Múspell, but her sister, her face an expressionless mask and her eyes far colder than her heritage would have implied.

“Is something going on?” Kiran asked, feigning calm.

“You will come with me,” Laevatein ordered.

The Summoner heard no room for argument.  And they weren’t exactly in a position to protest, either.  Rising to their feet, Kiran approached the young general, submitting without protest as she took hold of their arm and led them out of the tent.  

The frantic bustle of activity set their nerves on edge as they moved toward the lanterns lighting the front of the camp.  “Your sister seems pretty great,” they noted quietly, watching soldiers scrambling from one corner of the camp to another.  Kiran swore they saw the ghost of a smile cross Laevatein’s face at that, though she made no reply.  “I’d like to thank her, if I could.  Sometime.  Y’know.  I really appreciate everything she’s done…”

Anything else they might have wanted to say died on their tongue as they approached the edge of camp.  The lights they had seen were not lanterns at all: they were naked flames, writhing in the air and nearly choking the Summoner with their heat alone.  And at their heart stood the Ruler of Flame himself, his dark eyes staring down at them through the rippling haze.

“I present the Askran Summoner,” Laegjarn said, gesturing to Kiran as Laevatein released their arm.

A wicked sneer sliced across Surtr’s face, and any breath the Summoner might have salvaged to speak abandoned them.  “Pathetic,” he chuckled, a sound so low it seemed to shake the ground.  “This wretched thing is what’s given them such nerve?  They look like they would lose to a mere ember.”

Kiran had to admit that they probably would.  But the words would not come out, even if they’d wanted to speak.

The man’s smile grew, exposing teeth and gums alike.  “I wonder how well they will burn.”

He raised a hand, and the Summoner stared at the flames licking his fingers, sparking across his nails and crackling in his palm.  They could not speak.  They could not move.  Try as they might, all they could do was watch in growing horror as his hand stretched toward them, the heat baking their skin and singing the edges of their hood and oh gods this was how they would die, they would burn to death here and they couldn’t even cry as they stood rooted in terror beneath the burning gaze of Múspell’s king–

A hand closed on their arm, pulling them back a step.  

Kiran stumbled, gasping into their sleeve as Laegjarn placed herself between the Summoner and her father.  “I gave my oath that no harm would befall them,” she said, her voice perfectly composed.  “The Summoner is a valuable bargaining chip.  We can deliver terms of surrender to Askr in exchange for their safe return and end this war tomorrow, but only if we have the Summoner to offer–”

“You should not have made such a hasty oath,” Surtr growled.  “Stand aside, or the flames may feast twice this night.”

Kiran’s knees threatened to give way beneath them as Múspell’s king brushed his daughter aside, leaving her armor scorched from even so light a touch.  Another step and he loomed over them, the flames making him seem still larger as they flared around him, and the Summoner could not be sure whether it was the haze of heat around him or the adrenaline coursing through them that made his silhouette waver and blur–

And in a flash, chaos erupted all around them.

Horses shrieked and bolted with glowing green wolves snapping at their heels, blue-black ravens descended on the archers reaching for their bows, and wyvern riders taking to the skies fell to a hail of arrows.  Kiran scrambled blindly out of the way of the scattering soldiers–

Someone gripped their arm.  The Summoner yelped, whirling in a panic…

“Stop sniveling, Summoner.”

Their breath caught.

“…Grima!?”

***

The weather held throughout the day and after the fall of night.  Thick clouds obscured the moon and stars from sight as the band of Heroes made their way through the dark: two mages, two dagger wielders, two archers, a swordsman, and a songstress with an ornate axe.  Not a brigade for sustained combat, but they had all agreed it would suffice for a strategic strike.

They found the Múspell camp with little difficulty.  Gaius and Matthew slipped from the cover of the trees, darting across the icy ground to the pillars of ice that sheltered the enemy tents.  They would need time to assess the situation and return to brief the rest of the company…

A sound overhead drew his attention.  Glancing up at the heavy clouds, Grima narrowed his eyes at the winged silhouette moving against the sky.  He scanned their small force, catching Takumi’s eye and gesturing up to the enemy on patrol; the archer followed his gaze, raising his bow and taking careful aim before loosing a bolt of black energy into the air.  The fell dragon saw the wyvern jerk and list in its flight an instant before its wings crumpled…

A sharp hiss drew his attention back.  He frowned, watching Takumi shudder while the aura pulsed and coiled around his neck.  Nodding briefly to the dark-clad singer, he focused once more on encampment glowing against the blue-white ice while a soft song filled their ears.  Even from this distance, he could see soldiers moving hastily through the lines of tents, seething and swarming like ants disturbed from their mound.  Something was going on, that much was clear…

He heard, rather than saw, the return of the spies from their patrol, the faint crunch of pine needles and snow under soft boots betraying their presence.  “We gotta move fast,” Gaius muttered as he slunk up to Grima’s side.  “Bad news just walked in.”

The fell dragon growled low in his throat.  That would explain the activity.  “Then we had best make haste.”

He moved swiftly, hearing the others following his lead.  They moved swiftly, dark shadows against the pale ice, taking shelter behind the icy stones that littered the plain.  As they drew close, he saw Surtr speaking with one of the two Múspell generals, watched him brush the woman aside, his hand reaching for…

Kiran.

“Now,” he hissed.

They did not hesitate.  The tacticians leapt into action, their spells descending on the encampment and throwing its soldiers into disarray.  Jeorge and Takumi took aim at the wyvern riders, arresting their attempted flight while Grima cleared the remaining distance, his attention fixed on the Summoner’s gilt robes amid the chaos.  Taking hold of their arm–

Kiran whimpered, rounding on the fell dragon and raising their free hand to shield their face.  He could feel them trembling beneath his touch.  Typical.  And yet, the fell dragon felt a smile curve across his lips, a soft rumble of laughter rising in his chest.  “Stop sniveling, Summoner.”

Kiran stilled, turning their face up to look at him.  And in spite of himself, he could not hide his grin.

“…Grima!?”

“Who else would it be?” he asked, turning back the way he’d come.  “Quickly, now–”

“Hold.”

The fell dragon stopped, moving the Summoner carefully behind him as Surtr towered over them.  “Stand aside,” Grima commanded.  Even at his full height, the fell dragon was forced to tilt his head up to look the Ruler of Flame in his scarred face.  But he felt no fear, even as the man lifted his axe, tongues of fire licking the glowing blade.

Surtr sneered.  “Or what?  What can a puny thing like you do?”

Grima’s smile widened, exposing his fangs.  “I will devour you,” he replied.  He raised his hand, gesturing to Múspell’s king as the man uttered a booming, mirthless laugh…

The clouds above roiled and parted for the six-eyed dragon, its maw gaping wide as it descended toward the camp.  Surtr paused, watching the dragon’s descent with a vaguely amused smirk.  “Keep close,” Grima muttered, sheltering the Summoner with one outstretched arm as the dragon overhead breathed a cloud of violet smoke over the encampment…

“Foolish wretch – you will learn the meaning of fear,” Surtr laughed.

Sparks danced through the veil of haze.  The king of Múspell raised his axe high, flames coalescing into a ball that rivaled the sun – and as he swung his weapon, it soared high, striking the dragon squarely in the jaw.

The fell beast shrieked in rage and agony, expelling another cloud of noxious fog across the enemy’s forces.  He felt Kiran’s hand grip his sleeve, and without hesitation he retreated through the dark, away from the Múspell forces and onto the snowy wastes beyond.  He saw the others ahead, pulling back with equal speed, cutting swiftly across the ice and into the shelter of the trees beyond; with the songstress speeding them along their way, they continued without pause until at last the light and sound of the battlefield had faded from a ringing in their ears to utter silence.

And then, at last, their breathless troop stopped, collapsing beneath the shelter of the Nifl pines.  Grima glanced across the battered force, an odd sense of relief settling over him as he found them all accounted for.  They had done well.

And moreover, they had succeeded.

The fell dragon turned to the Summoner beside him, looking them over carefully as their breath at last grew steady.  They appeared unharmed, if slightly singed…  “Are you alright?” he asked.

Kiran drew in a shaky breath.  And when they looked up at him, their wide eyes were full of tears.

Before he could speak, the Summoner flung themselves at him, pressing close and clutching his coat in their trembling hands.  “He was gonna kill me,” they whimpered.  “Gods…g-gods, I could’ve died, he was gonna burn me alive, and I couldn’t d-do anything – I froze up, I just stood there, like s-some dumb…I couldn’t do anything, I couldn’t even run away, I was gonna die th-there…”

Grima hesitantly coiled one arm across Kiran’s shoulders, the other awkwardly patting the peak of their hood.  “What did you expect?” he asked quietly.  “You do not fight.  That is not your role.”

“I could’ve…a-at least run away, i-instead of dying like…like some c-coward,” the Summoner sniffled into his increasingly damp shirt.

“There is no cowardice in what you did,” the fell dragon murmured.  “Brave words can mask a coward, but his actions will betray him.  You showed great courage.  You held firm in the face of fear.  You faced a foe that even Heroes fear.  You should take pride.”

“I’m no Hero,” Kiran mumbled.

“No,” Grima agreed.  “You are not.  You are a Summoner.  But what makes us Heroes is not our presence in Askr.  It is not our histories, nor our titles, nor our lineages….it is you.  You are the one who makes us Heroes.  Your belief in us.  Your faith.  You are not a Hero, Summoner…but we are not Heroes without you.”

You’re waxing poetic again.

It seemed effective, though.  Kiran’s sniffling abated, and they turned their gaze once more up to look at his face.  “…do you really think so?” they whispered.

“I think any here would agree,” he nodded.  The Summoner drew back slightly, mustering up a shaky smile as they dried their eyes and turned to scan the assembled Heroes…

“Holy shit, what happened to Takumi!?”

Kiran broke away, hurrying over to where the archer sat.  His head came up, bloody lips curving into a relieved smile as the Summoner settled beside him.  “You’re back,” he mumbled, the shifting aura around him beginning to disperse.

“Of course I am,” they chuckled.  “You guys can’t get rid of me that easy.  Don’t suppose a healer joined the party…?”

“No,” Grima confirmed, moving to stand beside them.  “But Askr is only a brief warp away, and there are clerics enough there.”  

“We should probably get going, then,” they said, helping Takumi to his feet.  Nodding in agreement, Grima turned–

Something tugged on his sleeve.  Looking back, he found the Summoner’s hand on his arm, a familiar smile taking its place once more on their face.  “Thanks, Grima,” they murmured.  “For saving me.  And…for everything else, too.”

The fell dragon inclined his head slightly, concealing his smile beneath his raised hood as he turned to join the tacticians in seeing to the preparations for their return.  The commander would likely have harsh words for them all, but…he would bear them without complaint or apology.  The risk had been well worth the reward.

[bioticgoddess]

Songbirds and Baby Bats (VI)

Series Summary: Jason Todd returns from the dead and, after the events of Under the Red Hood,he goes from Gotham to Bludhaven in search of himself…and an old friend. But getting your life back is never easy and Black Mask has enlisted the aid of Gotham’s other Crime Families as well as a few ghosts of Batman’s past. He’s coming for the Red Hood and everyone of his allies.

Photo property of CD828 Studios and the Red Hood Fan Series. 

Part VI

The sun trickling in through the partially open curtains was an unwelcome wake up call. A grumble vibrated in his throat as he cracked his eyes open. Tucked in next to him, her head pillowed on his chest, Amy sighed in her sleep. When she snuggled up closer, he grinned. Okay, seeing her like that, the sun could be forgiving for needling him out of some much needed sleep. He closed his arm around her, thumb stroking a trail the length of her lower back. She was soft and warm and there. Something he hadn’t really thought possible, despite the fact that he’d come crashing back into her life (and those of all their friends) like a meteor.

She grumbled, “Stupid sun.” The light had crossed over her eyes the moment she moved closer to Jason.

“Good morning,” he laughed softly. Even before joining the ranks of Gotham’s vigilante superheroes, the Irish girl had a well-documented hatred of mornings. Witnessing it first-hand this way, was enough to make him forget, for a moment, everything they had yet to do and the danger they were in.

Looking up at him, eyes half open, Amy smiled, “Mornin’ handsome.” Her hair was loose, tumbling haphazardly around her face and shoulders, hair tie lost somewhere in the sheets or on the floor. It was a small thing to be proud of and it made him grin before leaning in, Jason planted a kiss on her forehead. “Do we ‘ave to get up,” she yawned.

“Sadly,” he confirmed. Wetting his lips with his tongue, nerves bleeding into his words, “So…we’re good right?” He wanted so desperately to stay there, run his hands through her hair and not worry about the men paid to kill them. Or any other sins of their pasts that deigned to interfere.

“Yea, we’re good love.”

That small confirmation was more than he expected. A smile spread across his face and Jason pressed a kiss to her forehead.

--

They stood on the rusted fire escape, Red Hood’s arms crossed over his chest, back pressed against the brick wall. For a day that had started out so fantastically, he was really not enjoying himself right now. “Your face’ll get stuck like that,” Wren teased softly, casting a quick glance in his direction. All the while she worked the lock open on the window, using a combination of magnets and pry tools. The easiest and least destructive way for them to open the old apartment complex’s windows.

He’d been tasked with keeping an eye out for their sniper or anyone else suspicious. Well, more suspicious than he two of them. The fewer people who knew that they’d been there the better.

“You can’t even see my face babe,” he reminded, tapping the section of mask directly over his nose.

Shrugging, the lock gave way with a delightful click. “Details, details. …And we’re in,” she smiled, tucking away her tools. It took nominal effort, despite having been nearly painted shut, for her to push the window up enough, giving them room to slip under and inside the apartment. Careful not to kick  or knock the screen they’d set on the fire escape’s landing, Wren ducked under the window first. Each foot hitting the floor quietly, one at a time. Pivoting and tip toeing adeptly until she was few steps in what turned out to be the living room. Red Hood followed suit; reaching down to check his firearms as he moved. Making sure they didn’t scrape or knock anything on his way in.

“So you’re an ex-IRA money launderer, intelligence broker, and all around bad guy, where do you keep the dossiers you don’t want people seeing,” Red Hood asked the otherwise empty room. He scanned the room as he came up beside Wren. She’d collected the stack of mail off what had been Owen Selkirk’s coffee table. “Anything interesting?”

She shook her head. It was all bills. Some envelopes stamped as past due. Others were solicitations – credit cards, car loans, magazines. The usual junk that most people chucked in the bin without a second thought. There wasn’t anything, to Wren’s eyes at least, that even looked like someone had attempted to disguise something important as junk mail. “Um…da’ used to say that Selkirk would hide things in furniture. Thumb drives, CDs, that sort of thing. Didn’t keep hard copies,” she remembered, setting the stack of mail back in its void on the coffee table.  

The apartment was extremely nice for someone they’d understood to be barely getting by. A large, industrial-modern layout, in one of the more gentrified neighborhoods of Bludhaven – rusted out, likely unusable in an emergency - fire escape aside. “What about an SD card in a flower pot,” he asked, making his way quietly towards the kitchen. The throw-rug laden wood floors were strangely out of place against the rest of its built in theme. Between that and the living/dining area, the apartment was easily larger than the “luxury” apartment Wren lived in. “We should move here,” he suggested, picking up the fake African Violets on the counter.

“Hah,” she’d knelt next to the couch, running her fingers along it’s long frame looking for anything out of place, “Right. I am not spending nearly four thousand dollars in rent monthly.”

Nothing. He set the plant down and started on the knife block, “C’mon. We could fit a real armory in one of these, I could get rid of my place in Gotham.” 

Looking over her shoulder, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed she snorted, “No. I mean…yes, we should probably condense to one place, but no. Not moving to a money pit like this.” She inched along the frame, rounding it’s far corner and checking the arms. “Damn.” Rocking back on her heels, Wren took a quick accounting of the furniture: coffee table, couch, chaise lounge, dining room table and chairs (a four seater), server, TV stand/entertainment center. In the living and dining room alone they could be at this for hours.

“What,” he asked, distracted from his search. So far the flower pots – there were two additional - and both the knife and butcher’s blocks had come up empty. He had a cabinet open, it looked to be the spice and dry good storage. Diligently checking for a false wall or some other cabinetry hidey hole that was out of the ordinary. “Wren,” he called, brow raised behind the mask as he looked in her direction. At best the top of her head was in his line of sight.  “You okay over there?

The only response was an exasperated groan. “That bad,” he joked. She glared back at him for a moment.  

It was the kind of exchange the two had mastered when he was Robin. Whole conversations using half as many words as either his predecessor or Batman. Where the latter was concerned that was a feat in and of itself. As she rolled up to full height, Wren rubbed her temples. “Okay,” she started, trying orally thinking through the problem at hand, “I’m hiding a thumb drive or other memory storage device. I don’t want it to be obvious to anyone else, but it needs to be easily accessible to me. Where do I put it.”

“Where do you work most,” Red Hood offered. He’d started towards the bed room. There was no desk out in that main open concept room. If there was one in there, given Selkirk’s age, it was likely he’d work at one instead of on a couch or in the kitchen. If not…well they’d have to rethink the idea.

He reached the open door as she answered, “Someplace I can see what’s going on around me.”

“So not the bedroom?”

“Probably not.”

“Well, my idea’s shot then,” he shrugged, turning back to face the room. That was the moment he saw it, the one thing out of place in the whole apartment – their search notwithstanding. “Wren, look at his entertainment center’s placement.” He nodded, clarifying when she shot him a look over her shoulder, “If he’s sitting in this room, then he can see outside, no problem. Both the balcony and fire escape are accessible .” The larger, multi piece, entertainment center was centered in such a way that it almost guaranteed he’d watch everything except what was on the screen. Lots of places to hide even something as large as, perhaps, an external hard drive. “Thinking maybe he tucked it in there somewhere.

Before Wren could answer, they heard the sound of deadbolt tumblers clicking and falling. Red Hood dropped behind the big couch in the center of the room while Wren took cover on the far side of the recliner. What sounded like the bolt disengaging and the smaller knob lock clicking was surprisingly loud in the apartment. Even with the area rugs and curtains. Shifting so he could see around the corner of the couch’s arm, Red Hood drew the weapon in his left holster. He clicked off the safety as the door swung open and took aim.

The door swung open, just wide enough for a man to tuck inside the apartment. His black combat suit, accented with blue bird emblazoned across his chest visible for a brief moment.

“Dude I almost shot you,” Red Hood snapped, pulling back his weapon. The safety’s soft click enough to ease some of the tension in the room. Silence, thick and uncomfortable, settled around them. Red Hood holstered his gun, letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and shrugged.

Nightwing spoke quickly, hearing the snap of the strap that held the gun in place, “Thanks for not doing that.” They all knew the helmet concealed the glare that Red Hood shot at him. The black and blue clad man moved farther into the room, “And thanks for the dead body buddy, super thrilled to find out about it over police scanners.”

“Wasn’t me,” Red Hood sighed, shaking his head. “Bro, if I’d shot him, you’d know.” Of course, if he’d been responsible for Selkirk’s death not only would Wren have been no where the deed but the police wouldn’t have tripped over the Irishman’s body. No one would have. Hell, last he heard no one had found the bodies of the Gotham drug lieutenants he’d…handled.

The laughter from the elder vigilante echoed in the apartment. Both Red Hood and Wren flinched. Unlikely though it was to attract attention, the prospect of being caught made the trio uncomfortable. “I figured that much,” Nightwing clarified after he recovered from his bout of the giggles. He was still tense, like he knew something he wasn’t sharing with either his brother or partner. “But you were there. That makes you both –“

“It was Deathstroke,” Red Hood presumed, “Had to be. The precision of the shots that took out Selkirk were professional. Hell, even the shots that missed us had to be. Not like I’m a small target.”

Wren rolled her eyes, rocking heel to toe, “You’re not wrong love.”

“You were there,” Nightwing concluded, turning his masked glare on Wren.

Red Hood answered in her stead, “Turns out one of my two informants, was also one of hers. We figured if Deathstroke was willing to off Selkirk then he had to have known something. About the mission or the Intermediary. Hell, he was terrified of the latter.”

Hanging his head and groaning, Nightwing pinched the bridge of his nose. Jason and Amy were likely to be the death of him. Not because they’d get him killed but because they’d frustrate him into an early grave. He could deduce, without much effort, that the others had come to this apartment in order to look for information about Deathstroke. Maybe get lucky and find something on the Intermediary as well.  “Well shit,” he groaned finally, “How can I help?”

“We were about to dismantle that,” Wren thumbed over her shoulder at the entertainment center. “We could use a second set of hands and…if you’re keyed into the police scanners, a heads up when they’re headed this way.”

Waving a hand at the pair, he shooed them towards the entertainment center. “Let’s get this over with and get outta here.” With that they descended on the entertainment center, both boys looking for any sort of secondary or hidden compartments in the furniture itself. Wren sorted through the DVDs, video games, and CDs in the central console. They were arranged alphabetically and by media type – the peculiarity made Wren’s eyes cross.

Red Hood’s fingers traced along a section at the back of the tower closest to the bed room. He heard the click as he hit one of the pegs supporting the shelf one of the gaming consoles was on. Selkirk owned several – at least one from each generation. It almost made him jealous…almost. “What have we here,” he practically purred, a section of shelf sliding out like a smart phone’s SIM tray. Delicately he caught it between his thumb and forefinger, drawing out the tray until it was in his palm. The other two stopped, Wren leaning back and Nightwing moved around the exterior tower.

“Care to share little brother,” he enquired.

“Jackpot.”

 Wren reached out, palm up. Expectantly she waited for Jason to drop the memory card into her hand. “Well, c’mon then,” she sighed, brow furrowed.

“We can look at them later. Like when we’re at home and, and as big bird so astutely pointed out, not rifling around a dead man’s apartment,” he flipped the the memory card along his fingers from index to pinky then it disappeared into his jacket. If only the others could’ve seen his grin. The Red Hood was exceptionally pleased with the move - even if the sour expressions painted across Wren and Nightwing’s faces showed they weren’t. All despite their masks, of course.

Nightwing’s shoulders slumped.The others knew that the memory chip was well concealed. Safe even, at least for now. “Put the tray back, we should get out of here. Sounds like the cops are going to be here any moment. I dunno about you two but I have no desire to have to explain myself.” He was scanning the police channels quietly, Bludhaven’s finest were on their way. Headed to search the apartment, as the trio had expected. They could almost hear the cars rolling up outside.

Slipping the tray into the shelf back where he’d found it, Red Hood nodded knowingly. He couldn’t argue Nightwing’s observation - though a part of him wanted to. Wanted to point out that, thanks to their group’s training, it would be simple for them to evade the police even if they were in the apartment when they arrived. “So…your place then,” He looked to Wren as she rolled up to her feet. Nodding, she stretched  and marched over to still raised fire escape window.

“C’mon boys,” she beckoned, slipping out onto the rusted metal fire escape.

--

The trio moved with purpose around the apartment. Jason checking the door and window locks, closing the curtains as each passed inspection. Without the security offered by the Batcave, they had to improvise. Dick was helping by doing a sweep for any sort of surveillance devices; paranoia ran in the family it seemed. “Anything,” the younger man called, tossing his heavy jacket onto the back of the big couch.

A thumbs up flashed his way.  

“We good,” Amy called to the two from the bed room.

Walking into the room, Jason nodded. He asked, looking over his shoulder for a moment, “You sure about this babe?” He was nervous about going over the information in his – their – home. The place was supposed to be a safe haven and if there was anything on the SD card that could be used to track it back to their possession...well, the ramifications made his stomach turn. “Amy, seriously.”

“Not like we have any other options,” she sighed, collecting small floral canvas pouch from inside her desk. “We physically take it to Oracle, they may end up tracking her down. We can’t exactly use the Batcave,” Bruce had returned from whatever trip he was on and Jason vehemently refused the suggestion during the trio’s trek back to Amy’s apartment. Yes, the Batcomputer likely had the requisite anti-spy and malware suites to ensure their safety without question but it also meant going to Bruce. It meant asking for his help with something they were collectively certain they could handle. And, when it came to his foundlings, the Batman had a nasty habit of overstepping his bounds and taking over. .

“Dick’s laptop, your apartment, god I hope this doesn’t…,” Jason trailed off, face going from resigned to irritated all at once. “Y’know what, no. If I say it we’re jinxed and I’m in no mood to risk it.”  The comment got Amy to laugh. It was enough to turn the night around, at least until he could collapse into the bed next to her and call it done.  Something he was looking forward to more than usual after the previous night/morning.

From the living room, Dick’s voice carried like an auditory battering ram, “You guys coming?” They could hear him messing up the blankets and pillows that had been Jason’s makeshift bed.

“Ungh,” Jason groaned, tossing his head back. There was a part of him that just wanted to die...again. Okay, maybe not literally.

Rocking up on her tiptoes, Amy planted a kiss on his check, two-days-worth of stubble tickling her lips and nose. “C’mon,” she whispered. “Sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can get to bed,” there was encouragement in her tone, helped by the wink tossed over her shoulder.

They found themselves in the living room, gathered around the coffee table and Dick Grayson’s laptop. “Shall we,” Dick asked, catching the bag of cords and adapters that Amy chucked across the room at him. It was almost a shame that he’d been fast enough to catch them.

“I don’t like this, at all,” arms cross over his chest, Jason sank down into the couch, his brother having taken the armchair. Heavily he propped his feet up on the coffee table, crossing them as Amy cautiously stepped over the impromptu barrier. He chuckled as his friend produced a strip of electrical tape from her utility belt and slapped it over the lens of the webcam. It wasn’t a perfect solution to ensuring that the webcam would be blind, but it was what they had.

Leaning back, calves hitting Jason’s left leg, she yawned, “Consider it covering our asses.”

“Then how are we –“  

“Hey guys,” Barbara’s voice chirped through Jason’s phone. He’d taken the liberty of calling Oracle. It was almost a relief to hear the computer generated voice of Barbara’s current alter-ego. If they weren’t about to ask her for all kinds of technological favors. Turning the device to face them, the other two could see her face – well the avatar used to hide her identity -  staring back at them. He’d turned off the WiFi before initiating the video call with their friend. “You!” She snapped at Jason,” We are going to have a long conversation when all this is done. Understood?”

He swallowed hard, nodding. “Yes ma’am.”  Everyone knew better than the argue with or otherwise test Barbara Gordon. She was a force to be reckoned with all on her own and kept the family – the Robins mostly – in check. She also had a way of putting the fear of god into the boys, only seldom needing to take action or make good on her threats.  “Missed you too Oracle,” he added after a moment, setting the phone down so the others could more easily the screen and she them.

“Hey Oracle,” Dick chimed in, a laugh on his lips at the reaction she’d inspired in Jason. “We got these SD memory cards. Think you could review them remotely through one of the cloud servers if I hook ‘em up to my laptop?”

With a huff she asked, “Yes. Now why am I not there…or you three here…so I we could do this in person? The cloak and dagger would put Batman to shame.”

Dropping onto the couch, legs stretched over Jason’s lap, Wren explained, “They came from the home of a known information broker, he happened to be shot down by the League less than 24 hours ago so there’s some concern about overall security. We’re trying to use as few integrated systems as possible to minimize being potentially compromised.”

“Well someone paid attention,” She praised, voice projecting the smile they couldn’t see. Barbara however, was still able to see the faces of her three friends. She laughed softly when Dick covered his face with his palm, frustrated at the culmination of the week’s events. Jason was still cringing under the subtle threat and Amy had a childlike grin on her face, practically preening at Barbara’s words.  “Okay, so do you have the adapter and WiFi scrambler gave you?” Amy and Dick nodded.

Nightwing answered, “They’re already set up Oracle.”

“Okay, give me a few minutes.”  They could hear her typing away, keys clacking on her computer, at the other end of the phone.  Dick shifted so the others could see the screen of his laptop as well. Windows opened and closed, the cursor flew between programs to the point that it was like watching a humming birds flit between blossoms.  It was practically mesmerizing and the nearly half an hour she needed seemed like no more than a few breaths. “And done.”

Jason ventured, “Want to enlighten us plebeians?”

“I transferred the contents of the memory cards to a secured cloud server and scrubbed the physical cards. I wouldn’t put them in a phone or camera but you can get rid of them without having to worry about anything being compromised or potentially traced back even to Selkirk. Don’t put copies of the files on your machines either. I have extra security on them in the server.” Even if she could guarantee the files and memory cards were clean, that was no reason to take any extra risks.

Dick thanked her, tapping the screen on Jason’s phone to end the call when the former Batgirl signed off. He began clicking around the files on the drive, brow furrowed as he scanned through a PDF. “We’re gonna be here a while,” he sighed finally. “There’s…a lot on this drive.”

“I’ll start the coffee,” groaned Jason. None of them were thrilled with the fact that they were losing the likelihood of a good night’s sleep (or any) to yet another review of documents. This time, however, they didn’t even have the luxury of being able to do it at their individual leisure.

Hours ticked by, the trio having to settle for mirrored screens across cheap tablets Dick kept on hand. The kinds of things he’d drop off at Barbara’s to be scrubbed and recycled. Jason took a long drag from his coffee cup, his blue eyes almost glazing over as he stared at the screen. There had to be something worth their time and effort on these drives. Something that made Selkirk’s death worth it. Most of the files at their disposal contained information on par with what they’d find in the Batcomputer. If they hadn’t gotten Barbara to copy the information to her servers they might have sworn it originated with her.

“Shit,” he cursed, looking at the PDF file on his screen. “We have much bigger problems than Deathstroke”

Yawning and rubbing her eyes, Amy leaned over, “What is it?”

Jason pointed to the list of alias under the section of the file for the Intermediary. “The Shadow’s Hand, the Demon’s Knife...the brief time I spent with them, the League cites him as the person Ra’s calls when he needs something done and doesn’t feel like having his family do it. He’s got a short list of confirmed kills but that’s because he’s that...good.” The way his inflection rose at the end spoke volumes. Despite a lack of recorded experience, the Intermediary - when summoned to do so - had a perfect record. “This just got a lot more complicated.”

“No kidding,” groaned Dick. “This just keeps getting better. Please tell me there’s a head shot in there?”

Amy interjected as Jason shook his head, “No, but I think there’s a surveillance image of Deathstroke with someone. Looks like Selkirk extracted an image of them landing at Gotham International.” She tapped the photo icon on her screen and let it take over. Turning the tablet to landscape, it filled the screen. They all knew Slade Wilson, Deathstroke, even out of uniform his hardened grizzled face unmistakable. Beside him stood a petite. He looked like he was maybe Dick’s age, and had striking features that were almost feminine in appearance, long dark hair that reached the bottom of his shoulder blades framed a slender jaw and cat-like eyes.

“Ah fuck,” Jason face palmed. “That’s Dustan, my other League contact. He knew about Selkirk.” He visibly wanted to crawl in a hole and die. In the years he’d been using Dustan to stay one step ahead of...everything...he never considered that the man was more than an information broker. Someone with an ear to the ground and a price for anything he knew. A number of tips over the years suddenly seemed a lot less convenient and more like they were cherry picked for the Red Hood. Also made the frequency with which Dustan changed residences make that much more sense. He was going to be hunting a man who knew how to disappear at least as effectively as any member of their little family. “Just...fucking fantastic.”

[onceuponamirror]

11 questions game

tagged by @raptorlily, who prepared 11 questions for her tag-ees:

1. The core four + Kevin and Cheryl are attending a literary character party. What costume does each of them wear? Bonus: What costumes are the Southside Serpent characters wearing?

OH BOY. well, betty is elizabeth bennett. her instinct is obviously be nancy drew, but then decides she wants to play dress up a little bit. she tries valiantly to get jughead into a darcy couples costume, but his instinct is to just be sal paradise because he won’t have to buy anything for the costume. 

betty tells him that if she’s not going to be nancy, he should go outside the box too. he then decides on dressing like the titular mummy from jane loudon’s the mummy! (he’s still a weirdo, remember)

veronica goes as daisy buchanan if not purely for the extravagant opportunity to dress like a flapper, archie comes as jim hawkins from treasure island, cheryl bucks expectation and attends as a female robin hood (she already loves archery), and kevin is absolutely sherlock holmes. he’d look so natural in a trenchcoat!

2. What extracurricular activities are Reggie, Ethel, Fangs, Midge, Toni and Sweetpea involved in?

besides sports, reggie’s extracurricular activity is definitely selling ground up oregano to middle schoolers and telling them it’s weed. 

ethel is canonically a drama geek and that’s valid, but she’s also probably in band. i’m gonna go with....flutist. 

fangs is also canonically a drama geek and a regular geek (less we not forget jughead used a larping club to lure fangs out of a self-imposed suspension) so i honestly am just waiting for him and kev to start up their dungeons and dragons club. (wow they are perfect for each other tho??? a dorkier bughead)

midge (RIP) was probably into 4-H bc i can’t get the concept of “klump farms” out of my head. she seemed like a genuinely sweet person who also was a regular teenager and was a cheerleader and probably volunteered at hospitals too idk 

toni wanted to get laid so bad she became a cheerleader. or, ok, seriously i mean my headcanon is like, it’s bring it on, where toni was into gymnastics and dance in a v serious way but southside didn’t offer any curriculars that would allow her to do that, and she couldn’t afford gymnastics herself. turns out the closest thing riverdale has is cheerleading, which’ll do. 

sweet pea is probably the lowkey nerdiest of them all. i was joking earlier that he’s probably secretly into anime, but more seriously: feel like he’d go for basketball officially and also probably has an interest in engineering. i mean, that interest began with pipe bombs, but. yanno. ya dreams gotta start somewhere!!!

3. Give me three of your favourite headcanons for Reggie

had a crush on betty until high school

does his dumbest shit for his dad’s attention, painfully unsubtle about it

is cripplingly afraid of being alone, which is why he surrounds himself by teammates at all times and/or can’t get past the pack mentality. has difficulty being vulnerable in spite of all that, can’t be honest with himself and/or with others. 

4. It’s Saturday night and the core four are all hanging out by themselves at home. What is each of them up to?

betty is listening to the memory palace podcast while laying on her bed, feet crossed up in the air, doing her homework. cleaned her room earlier. wants to call polly. she doesn’t. stays up till two am for no reason other than her room is warm and full of golden light and it’s the only time the house is quiet. plugged back in her old nightlight, half out of spite after polly nearly threw it out, half genuinely. sometimes she thinks she’s still afraid of the dark. the irony isn’t lost on her. 

jughead is working on his novel, american crime story is playing on the TV in the background, a bag of popcorn slowly rotating in the microwave. the trailer is empty and he chooses to think his dad is at work. emails his sister. he doesn’t remember when, but they’ve stopped talking about their mom. his tattoo itches. toni told him not to scratch at it. 

veronica is drinking chamomile tea on a tray, scrolling through pinterest and making a european vacation mood board for the post-graduation trip she’d like to take with her friends. she wants to surprise them with it, all-expenses paid. she resists the urge to book flights years in advance. browses the barney’s website. doesn’t know why she gets such a thrill from online shopping. isn’t sure why she can’t stop. 

archie is in the garage, his fingers strumming aimlessly over the strings of his guitar. wonders why his mother can’t be a lawyer here in riverdale. isn’t sure if music was ever his own, or something he thought he should want, because he didn’t want to work construction. or worse, because a woman found it attractive. brought his history textbook out with the intention to study. doesn’t. practices wonderwall, even though jughead laughs whenever the song comes upon. 

5. What’s your headcanon for Jughead’s hat? Why does he wear it? What’s the origin story?

his mom made it when he was a kid, and growing up in threadbare clothes donated down the line of serpents or thrift store finds, it was the one thing that was truly his---made for him. with love. 

being scrawny and quiet and outgrowing his pants too fast to replace them already set him apart. might as well let the hat seal the deal. 

6. What is your Riverdale guilty pleasure ship? One that you don’t necessarily ship in canon but wouldn’t mind reading fanfiction for?

don’t think i have one, honestly? 

7. Can Chuck be redeemed in your eyes? Any caveats or things that would need to happen to make this count?

yeah, it’s really interesting answer this question post 2x18, but---yes, i definitely think chuck can be redeemed. i never wanted him to be a villain in the first place, for so, so many reasons. 

i mean, comics!chuck was a deliberate bucking of specific stereotypes that riverdale slid right back into without seeming to think about what it was they were saying by doing that. (related readings: x) and then the way they did it---ack. 

outside of the vacuum of comics vs. show, i think that where we’re at culturally, we’re really asking men to unlearn their toxic masculinity. especially of adolescents who are still growing and changing---and what chuck did was certainly part of the vacuum of male privilege/toxic masculinity, but he faced consequences  for that, and then he acknowledged it. actively has announced he wants to change, and i genuinely believe it at this point. 

and while i wish chuck wasn’t the character they’re doing this with in the first place, “cancelled culture” can be really frustrating because it’s way too binary. it undermines the growth and self-crit we want people to be doing. 

obviously, it doesn’t apply unilaterally, some people are abusive or cruel or malicious to the point where they lose their ability to profit off of it, and rightfully so---but with a character like chuck, whose main crime appeared to just be slut shaming, i actually appreciate a narrative where a male character owns up to how that was bad, why it was wrong, and how they’re going to change. 

8. What is a storyline you’d like to see most explored on the show?

just---more familial dynamics. i cannot wait for gladys and JB, i think that’s going to be so meaty and tragic and emotional in the right ways. i want more of polly and betty’s relationship, and/or how betty feels watching her sister run away constantly, or just their dynamic in general. more of archie and fred navigating dreams vs. reality. i kinda don’t love veronica’s parents tho, and i’m not sure where they could take that in a way that i enjoy. 

9. What is your favourite Riverdale fanfic trope or cliché?

pining, man. just. pining. 

10. What is existing scene or storyline would you rewrite to better suit your tastes?

HAH. how much time do we have 

BONUS:  Archie starts a band. He settles on ‘The Archies’ but what were some of the other suggestions for the band name? Name three songs that show up on their debut album.

jughead’s suggestion is: red drum, red drum and he thinks it’s hilarious

three songs: midnight ride, smoking gun, and can’t fly

my 11 questions for my taggees 

1. which twist did you least see coming? genuinely. 

2. we all know riverdale loves hopscotching through genre elements (true crime, musical, grease, etc), and sometimes it’s too much, but which has been your favorite? what other ones would you like to see from the show?

3. riverdale does dirty on its secondary characters. what storylines would you give to reggie, kevin, josie, etc? or, what would you like to see for them in s3? anything you thought the show really fumbled? did right?

4. what are your backstory headcanons for sweet pea, fangs, and toni?

5. what’s your theory on the old riverdale riots?

6. it’s the ten year high school reunion. where did everyone go to college? (core four + the secondary pals) what’s your headcanon for their future careers? who’s still together? who wishes they were still together? who hooks up unexpectedly in a storage closet? 

7. what’s a storyline you just didn’t buy this season?

8. any headcanons for the riverparents? like, how they grew up, who they were in high school, why they went the directions they did?

9. what’s one trope that you’d wish the show would do? or something you wish you saw more in fic?

10. thoughts on reggie? will he ever be fleshed out? will it make him more of a villain, or less of one?

11. if you could have anything happen in s3, what would it be?

and i tag @village-skeptic @stillscape @sylwrites @lessoleilscouchants @myrmidonofmelodrama @heartunsettledsoul @raptorlily (tagging back, bc i want your answers on these too!) @theatreofexpression​ @imreallyloveleee​ 

or anyone who wants to answer!!! just tag me, i wanna see yer answers. these games are fun 

[strengthrequireskindness]

Batfam Drabble Part Two

Tagging @this-canadian-girl and @desolationofzara again because they are awesome and help my poor anxious ass with the needed research

Warning for cursing, mention of rape, and some violence

---

“Let her go.” It was Nightwing who spoke first, drawing his sticks off his back as he did so. “Hurting her isn’t worth the beating you’re gonna get.”

The man didn’t respond at first. It was only when she felt the cold steel at her neck that Najida realized what he was planning. He flicked the blade ever so slightly, and she trembled as a thin bead of blood bubbled up from the cut.

“I’m not going to hurt her. Not unless you do something stupid. She’s mine.”

"Who sent you?” Red Hood stepped forward, his expression thunderous. At least, she guessed it was thunderous, given that she couldn’t actually see it. “Los Lobos are an East End gang. You don’t go into the Narrows.”

“Not unless there’s profit in it for you,” finished Red Robin, a thoughtful expression on his face. “So this wasn’t random.”

“Got it in one. Suffice it to say we’re being paid a lot to make sure this little missy doesn’t survive.” He punctuated his words by pressing harder on her neck, and she grimaced as the blade bit further into her skin. She knew enough about anatomy to know that if the knife went any further, the blood would definitely start flowing freely.

Think, she urged her brain. There has to be something. My rescuers aren’t going to try anything if the blade stays at my throat. The game’s not working for them right now. So change the game. Give them an opportunity.

“Hello? Hostage here? Are we going to keep staring at each other menacingly, or am I going to get some answers on why people want me dead?”

Everyone’s faces registered confusion. That was good. She just had to keep it going long enough for the masked marvels to catch on.

“No, seriously. I literally know nothing about why you're trying to kill me. Some answers would be nice. Who is they? Why can't you just let me go?"

The man's grip tightened, and Najida instantly knew she'd made a mistake, although she didn't know what it was.

"Liar. You know more than you're telling. They told us your father contacted you last before they eliminated him. He gave you something important that was not his to give."

His words hit her like a slap to the face, leaving her head spinning. This simply made no sense. These people had to be insane. She was being attacked for nothing. Her father had been murdered for nothing. That made her furious.

"Are you high? What are you talking about? My dad was a lab tech, and a good man! He wouldn't do something like that! The mysterious 'they' who hired you murdered him for what? The book about the Crusades he gave me because he knew I loved history? The crossword we did that night in the Gotham Gazette?"

"You think it's not normal for a father to spend time with his daughter before his daughter finds him bleeding out? You're right, because he shouldn't be dead in the first place! Pardon my French, but you are fucking insane. Or just a psycho. Goodness knows we have more than enough of those."

She was yelling now, tears streaming down her face. "Why did they do that to my dad? Why are you doing this to me?You sick son of a bitch!"

It's possible that the man holding her would have killed her for that, or at least threatened her. As it was, she didn't know what he would have done, because as the man opened his mouth to speak, a green boot slammed into the side of his head, sending him flying into the wall.

The tiny Robin dropped in front of her as his companions charged to meet the rest of the thugs. Ignoring the sounds of fighting behind him, he angled his head towards the ground, eyes down and a hand over his heart.

"Hello. Are you all right?" His voice was young, slightly accented, and strangely familiar.

Despite it all, Najida smiled. Only in Gotham would one of the Robins know a traditional Muslim greeting, and care enough to use it. Just when she thought the city was full of bad things, it always managed to change her mind.

"Yes, thank you. Are your friends going to be all right?"

The tiny Robin scoffed. "Those peasants don't stand a chance."

"Do you mean your friends or the thugs?"

"Which one do you think I mean?" He rolled his eyes just as a gunshot rang out, the sharp report echoing through the small space.

Najida flinched, dropping to the ground and covering her head with her hands. The tiny Robin looked unconcerned, even as a thug fell down, screaming and holding his foot.

"That's Hood. He's the marksman."

"He shoots people? Shouldn't you not shoot people?"

The look the tiny Robin gave her could have burned hair. He scoffed. "Do they not deserve it?"

She was about to snap that nobody deserved to be shot when something came to her. Why was that accent and bad attitude familiar? Because she'd seen it earlier that day.

"Damian?"

The kid froze like he'd been caught in a searchlight, before lunging straight at her. Caught by surprise, his momentum knocked her flat on her back, pinning her under him as the tiny Robin held her down.

"How do you know that name?"

She groaned as his knee dug into her stomach. For such a tiny kid, he was freakishly strong. "Cut it out and I'll tell you!"

Slowly, the knee moved back, but he didn't get off of her. Oh well. One out of two wasn't bad.

"One, I'm a barista. If I don't remember my customers, I'd be out of a job. Two, not many preteens carry themselves like Alexander the Great. Three, no I am not going to tell other people because I am very aware that you can and will kill me. And four, if you don't get off me right now I'm going to remind you that you are breaking the rules of my religion, which makes me a lot more willing to hurt you."

When he didn't respond, Najida shoved him hard. The force pushed him roughly off her, sending him tumbling onto the ground. Damian turned the impact into a roll and came up standing, his expression promising bloody death.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't beat you unconscious right now."

Najida threw up her hands. Earlier that day, she might have been scared. But compared to what she'd just been through, a boy in a bird costume with a degree in brattiness and homicidal tendencies didn't frighten her as much as it probably should have.

"Look, you attacked me! I literally was about to tell you that I don't plan on doing anything with the information before you plowed into me like a wrecking ball. I warned you to get off me, too. You're the one who didn't listen or wait for an explanation."

For a moment, they both stared at each other, the only noise the sound of fighting. Then Robin blew a breath out through his nose, eyes still narrowed.

"Tt. You're not what I expected. When I saw a bar wench-"

"Barista!" she interrupted angrily. "Bar wench is derogatory, inaccurate, and it makes you sound like you're in the Middle Ages."

"Will you let me finish? As I was saying, I expected someone weak and servile. You're not what I thought you were."

Huh. From such an emotionally confused kid, that might be as close as Najida got to a compliment.

"Robin!" The call made her jump as Damian's head whipped around.

"I have to go help them. Stay down."

And just as quickly as he'd showed up, he was gone, diving into the fray with reckless abandon.

Najida huddled close to the wall and watched the fight, eyes flicking on each of the heroes in turn. These were her idols, people who'd finally decided to do something about the darkness plaguing Gotham. Even though they were only human, they still decided to heed the call and take up arms.

Nightwing fought like a deadly ballet, flipping and turning with uncanny precision. Here a backflip, there a midair somersault, even grabbing the edge of the Dumpster to flip over backwards and send three guys flying. His sticks were just as fast, smashing faces and disarming people with the speed of long practice.

Whoever Red Hood punched stayed down. He didn't hold back and he gave as good as he got, bloodying faces and knocking out teeth. While Nightwing was an acrobat, this guy was clearly a brawler first and foremost. His guns kept firing, aiming for kneecaps and legs and other non-lethal areas.

Red Robin's fighting style was more analytical. He didn't waste time on stray punches or any grandstanding. His hits went straight toward the places that would cause the most damage or take the person out the fastest. His bo staff shifted from hand to hand, shooting out to whack people over the head or knock them to the ground.

Robin fought like a demon. While he didn't look physically tough, he was using the mass and force he did have to great effect. His hits landed with a force greater than she'd expected, his small frame made it difficult for his attackers to hit him back, and he was using their underestimation of him to his advantage. Every Batarang he threw hit its target, leaving more than a few thugs unconscious or with concussions at the very least.

Almost as soon as it had started, it ended. Some of the thugs-or were they gang members?-had fled, opting for self-preservation over courage. But most of them were laid out on the ground, either unconscious or loudly groaning.

Red Robin got busy tying the thugs up, using tough and sturdy knots and ignoring the conscious ones' complaining.

"This is illegal!"

"So's attempted robbery and murder," the winged vigilante snarked back. "Have fun complaining about it in Blackgate."

While Red Robin secured the thugs, Red Hood was doing something more violent and intimidating. Which didn't really surprise her, given what she'd seen of him so far.

The man who'd held a knife to her throat nearly pissed himself when he was slammed hard into the brick wall, Hood holding him by the shirt collar as easily as Najida could hold a coffee cup.

"Who hired you?"

The man was close to sobbing, breaths coming out ragged and wet.

"I won't tell you! They'll kill me if I tell you!"

"No great loss, then." Red Hood drew closer to the thug so that they were nose-to-nose. His face darkened.

"You and your merry band of sickos nearly raped and killed a teenage girl. If they don't kill you, I'll do it first. And I won't be nearly as quick or gentle. I'm the Red Hood, asshole. You should be fucking terrified of me."

"Now, for the last pain-free time. Who hired you?"

"APOLLO INDUSTRIES!" the man screamed, sobbing as he was roughly pushed to the ground.

The name cut straight to the bone, the shock pinning her in place, unable to move. No. That couldn't be right. Apollo Industries was where her father had worked before he'd died. Before he'd been murdered, she corrected herself.

That meant he was murdered by his own company. They'd killed him. They'd killed her father.

The man crying, the sound of boots on concrete, the lights of the city, all of it faded away, until it was just Najida, alone with her grief. Trembling, she sank to the ground, her legs unable to hold her. Had his death only been a year ago? It felt like a lifetime of pain.

When she closed her eyes, she could still see.

The broken window, shards of glass scattered across the floor. Her father's body, broken and twisted on the ground, covered in red and eyes unseeing. Blood covering the walls of his room like a macabre paint job. The three people in the room with the corpse. The wild Asian man standing over his body, hands curled into claws, a crazed look in his eyes, and a barely human form. The little Hispanic girl in a bloodstained dress holding a butcher knife. The abnormally tall black man with an almost clinically perfect body and a detached expression on his face. The red and blue lights of the cop cars up and down the street. Her mother's face, frozen in a scream of endless sorrow but not knowing the reason for it.

When she closed her eyes, she could still hear.

The footsteps of the three people as they ran, her desperate screams following them.

The exclamations of the cops when she showed them the body.

"Fifty six stab wounds. Fuck."

"Is that his kidney? Looks like it's been sliced open, too.."

"Oh my god, his leg's been chewed off..."

The words of the one man who wanted to help a scared kid.

"I'm sorry, Commissioner Gordon, I swear I didn't do it-"

"Kid, hey. No one thinks you could do something like that. You're fifteen, you're not strong enough to kill a five foot ten man, and you're the one who found the body, after all."

"But I heard some of the officers saying that they shouldn't trust me-"

"They're idiots who can't see past their own bigotry. Nobody's going to listen to them."

"Promise?"

A deep sigh. "Promise."

The disbelieving responses when she told them what she'd seen.

"A wild man? Kid, this isn't the Stone Age."

"I swear I'm not lying! Please, you've got to believe me!"

"Shock's a hell of a drug. She's probably not thinking straight."

"I'm thinking just fine! I just want someone to listen-no, please, come back! Come back! No!"

When she closed her eyes, she could still smell.

The overpowering stench of blood, stuck in every nook and cranny and refusing to come out for months after. The smoke from the commissioner's cigar, circling his head like a gray wreath. The smell of body odor and mint-she could never have mint chocolate chip ice cream after that.

When she closed her eyes, she could still feel.

The blood on her hands, enveloping every inch of skin. It was everywhere, she'd been bound to get some on her at some point. The feel of the large trench coat, draped over her by the commissioner like a blanket. The rough edge of the curb digging into her legs. The rain pounding down on her head.

While it had faded slightly over time, the grief always been in the back of her mind ever since that day. But this new revelation brought the tears and the agony out full force. They fell with the force of bullets, soaking her cheeks and blurring her vision. Sobs wracked her chest, lines of aching tearing through her body like claw marks.

This wasn't fair. They'd sworn on live TV that they had nothing to do with her father's death. They didn't even help her and her mother get back on their feet. It was their fault that they lived in a crappy apartment and her mother was bedridden. It was their fault that her mother cried for days at a time without knowing why. It was their fault her throat was bleeding right now.

Well, they'd made a big mistake. They'd failed to kill her. And she wasn't planning on letting them get away with it.

(Part Three will be up soon!)

[fullmetalcarer]

Lips as Red as Blood - part 2

When Charles was twelve years old he found an injured raven in the forest.  He had been wandering there alone, weeping over the death of his beloved father.  His loneliness was a hand round his throat, gripping so tight he could not breathe.  His mother had withdrawn into her chambers and would see no one, certainly not her despised son.

The raven had sharp claws and a wicked beak, but the little Prince was not afraid as he had known only love and adoration all his short life, except from the Queen.  He tucked the raven into his shirt - it cawed and bloodied his fingers - and made his way back to his rooms in the castle.  He splinted its broken wing with pencils and thread and made a nest for it by his bed out of his oldest clothes.  He begged some scraps from the kitchen - pretending to be hungry - and fed it and put a bowl of water beside it.

In the morning he woke and leaned over the side of his bed to see how his patient did.  Lying in the nest of clothes was a young girl of much his own age.  Her skin was bright blue and covered in whorls of scales.  Her eyes glowed like the coals of a fire.  Her hair was scarlet as a robin's breast.  One of her arms was much bruised and torn.  Charles fell out of his bed and landed beside her.

The girl scrabbled away from him and pressed her back into the corner of the room.

"Don't be afraid," said the little Prince.  "I mean you no harm.  Who are you?  How do you come to be here?  What happened to your arm?"

The girl said nothing.  She gazed at him with her strange eyes.  A sudden thought, a foolish, absurd thought, shook him.

"Are . . . are you the raven?"

She nodded.

"Are you of the fae?"

"I am.  As are you."

Her voice was clear and pure.

"I am not of the fae.  My parents are, were, of human stock."

She laughed, a strange combination of harshness and pealing bells.

"Your mother begged you as a boon from the forest spirits.  You are touched by the fae.  Do you not hear the true thoughts of others despite what their mouths say?  Do you not feel their grief as your own?  Do you not joy in their gladness as though it were yours?  Can you not move the minds of others to your will?"

He gasped.

"Yes, yes, yes to all, but I try very hard not to. I am most careful not to change thoughts or direct actions.  All the teachings of the Church say such things are evil, witchcraft and of the devil."

The blue girl smiled.

"The fae are not of the devil.  Nor are they of your God.  They are of themselves alone and so are their gifts.  Such gifts may be used for good or ill, but they must be used lest they turn upon the gifted one."

They gazed at one another.  Charles noticed a trickle of blood run down her arm.

"You are bleeding.  Please let me help you."

She inclined her head.

He fetched warm water, towels, bandages and onitment.  He cleaned her wounds and anointed and bound them.

"How were you hurt?"

She grinned.

"I had a disagreement with a fellow fae.  He did not fare so well."

"Are you hungry?  Can you eat our food?"

"Yes to both."

He brought bread and cheese and chicken and fruit and milk.  The fae child wolfed it all down.

"What is it like in your world?"

"Boring."

He laughed.

"But all the tales say the realm of the fae is full of wonders."

"So it is, but even wonders become over familiar with time.  I am thinking of spending a few decades in the human world.  It is not as though our worlds are separate.  Everywhere they impinge and overlap."

"How old are you?"

"Older than the oldest human living, though that makes me but a child to our kind."

"Where will you go?"

She tilted her head.

"This is a palace, is it not?  You are a Prince.  I like the idea of living in luxury."

Charles bounced up and down with excitement.

"You would stay with me?"

"I would."

He embraced her.  Her scales felt cool and pleasantly rough again his skin.  Then he drew back in disappointment.

"But you cannot stay.  They would kill you on sight."

She grinned.

"But why?"

Her scales flickered and her blue skin changed to peach and her golden eyes turned grey and her scarlet hair lengthened and turned flaxen.

"You . . . you are a wonder," he breathed.  "Will you be my sister?"

"I will."

"What shall I call you?"

"Why, Raven, of course."

And so the little Prince gained a playmate and a sister and a friend who understood his fae gift.  And though he did not grieve his father any less, yet his sorrow was eased.  The courtiers and servants were certain someone had told them Raven was the daughter of some minor lord from some distant part of the kingdom.  They could never quite remember who told them. The Queen paid her no more mind than she paid her son.

Two years passed and Lord Kurt of Marko came courting the Queen.

There will be a link to part 1 here when I've worked out how the flip to do it

part 1

[write-my-dreams]

JayTim Day 1: Carnival

Author: write-my-dreams

Pairing: JayTim

Rating: PG

Warnings: None

Summary: Jason takes Tim (along with Dick and Damian) to a carnival in Metropolis.

Read at Ao3

Tim didn’t care that he was seventeen. He could seriously use a drink right now, painkillers be damned. The last few days had been hell. Absolute hell. He’d broken his arm going up against some of Scarecrow’s thugs. Bruce had benched him until he healed, refusing to take no for an answer. Cassie and Kon also refused to let him work with the Titans until he was back to full health. Balancing Wayne Enterprises, his relationship with Jason, spending time with friends, and patrolling as Red Robin had kept Tim’s life beyond busy. Now that he couldn’t be Red Robin he felt restless. Bored. Like the walls were starting to close in on him. 

He glanced up from his computer when Jason came through the door. “Timmy! On the computer again I see. Put it away. We’re going out.” 

Tim glanced at his screen. He’d just been going over the presentation he was giving tomorrow. “Okay. Where?” He put his laptop on sleep mode and set it aside. Jason was doing his best to keep him entertained while he healed.

“Metropolis,” Jason replied. “There’s a summer carnival in town for the week. Dick found out about it and said we should all go. I said I could stop by his apartment to pick him and the demon spawn up if you’re interested in going.” 

Tim blinked. He hadn’t expected Jason to suggest a ‘family bonding’ activity. It’d be nice to see Dick again even though Damian would be involved. “Okay. Give me a minute to get my things then I’m ready.” The alternative was nitpicking the presentation or finding something else to amuse himself. He had been thinking of planting a virus into Ra’s al Ghul’s security network…

Damian approached the colorful gates with trepidation while Dick bounced on his toes. Tim and Jason exchanged amused looks. Damian usually acted like the bored parent being dragged along by his eager child whenever he was out with Dick. 

“Poor little baby bat looks like he’s being tortured,” Jason muttered to Tim.

Damian stopped to glare at him. “I am not a baby, Todd. Cease calling me such an absurd pet name.” 

“Fine, demon spawn.” He laughed and took Tim’s good hand. “Tim and I are going to the games to win Cass the biggest teddy bear we can find. You two have fun. Keep an eye on Dick and don’t let him get kidnapped.” Jason ruffled Damian’s hair with his free hand for the sole purpose of irritating him. Tim ignored the angry snarl as they walked away. It’d been a long time since he’d last been to a carnival as a guest. There just wasn’t time in his life. “What’s going on in that big brain of yours?”

Tim squeezed Jason’s hand. “Not much. I’m just trying to remember the last time I went to a circus or a carnival. I know Dick and I went the last time Haly’s Circus came to Gotham, what, three years ago? You know how Gotham doesn’t really attract fun.” Too much chaos in the city and too many costumed freaks. 

Jason cocked his head. “Roy and I took Kori to a few carnivals last year.”

“What’d she think?”

“She loved it, though she almost made herself sick with cotton candy and elephant ears at the first one. It was fun though. We went on every ride and I think played every game. We won a lot of prizes. So many I could barely fit them all into the car.” 

Tim smiled as he visualized it. He stopped as he noticed the rack of prizes behind the ring toss. Given their location, there were plenty of Superman prizes. Shirts, plushies of varying sizes, even a few body pillows. “I’m going to win Kon a Superman plushie.” 

Jason snorted. “Go for it.” He took a closer look at the prizes. “You should win him the body pillow. Or give it to Bruce. The looks on either of their faces would be priceless.” He pulled out his wallet, grinning as they stepped into the line. 

Tim rolled his eyes. “Selina won’t be thrilled if she comes by and finds him in bed with a Superman body pillow. Besides, we both know that Dick would steal it. He’ll probably ask Damian to win one for him so he has an excuse to cuddle him.” Somehow he’d have to hide the pillow from Dick so he couldn’t take it for himself. 

When it was their turn, Jason paid for Tim’s three tries. The carnie gave Tim’s sling a skeptical look as he handed over the rings. Clearly he thought there was no chance Tim would manage to toss a single ring over the bottles. Completing a ring toss would be no difficulty for him at all. Something Tim demonstrated, to the surprise of the carnie and the line behind them. “I’ll take the body pillow,” Tim said with a grin. “My friend just loves Superman.” He tucked the pillow under his arm. He was meeting Bart and Kon tomorrow so he’d surprise Kon with his very own Superman body pillow. Tim made a mental note to message Bart to record the whole thing. 

“He’s going to be so confused.” 

“It’ll be great. Oh, look over there.” Tim pointed at two different stands. One involved knocking over bottles with a ball and the other was a shooting game. Each offered massive teddy bears as prizes. “Steph will love that big purple one.” He imagined Cass would be just as confused as Kon, but she would appreciate the gesture. Jason held Kon’s pillow while Tim did the ball toss to win Steph’s teddy bear. Tim could just barely fit both under his good arm as he watched Jason take out each target to get Cass her prize. “Let’s stop at the car and drop these off. I won’t be able to eat any cotton candy like this.”

“Or elephant ears.” Jason carried the bears so Tim could manage the pillow. “Wonder what Dick and the demon spawn are up to right now?”

“Probably going on rides.” Tim glanced up at the Ferris wheel. He wouldn’t mind going on a few himself. He would happily avoid the funhouse or any of the cheesy ‘House of Horrors’ attractions. He adjusted his grip on the pillow when they reached the car. “Looks like Dick and Damian did the same thing we did.” There was an oversized cat plushie in the trunk along with a big pillow bearing the Superman logo. Tim shook his head as he set the pillow next to it. As if Dick didn’t already have his own supply of Superman shirts. And underwear. Quickly he banished the thought of his brother in underwear out of his mind. 

The bears just barely fit in the trunk. Jason shut it then locked the car again. “What do you want to do next? Ferris wheel?”

“Not quite. We’re at a carnival, which means we need to eat some cotton candy and greasy fair food."

Jason grinned as he took Tim’s hand. “I like the sound of that. Are we going on any rides or are we going to be too busy eating carnival food?” 

“Why don’t you pick? I’ll buy us a bag of cotton candy then we’ll ride on the Ferris wheel. What’s next is up to you.” 

“Twister,” Jason said promptly. “We’ll have to get an elephant ear at some point too.” 

Tim nodded. “Sure.” 

About an hour later, they’d been on most of the rides they were interested in and demolished a bag of cotton candy, a deep fried candy bar apiece, and were now working on an elephant ear. Tim watched Jason scan the carnival as he chewed a piece of the fried bread. A steady relationship had done wonders to ease Jason’s anger. He and Bruce still had their issues, but Tim hoped that would eventually change. Especially if Bruce could see this version of Jason. Eyes bright, having fun, chatting away between bites of the enormous cinnamon elephant ear they’d bought to share only for Jason to eat most of it. Seeing Jason so happy made Tim’s heart swell with love. He didn’t care about their rough history. What they had now was all that mattered. 

“Tim?” Insecurity crossed Jason’s face. He dropped the piece of bread back into the basket. “You’re staring at me.” 

Tim leaned in to kiss some of the cinnamon away from Jason’s mouth. “Because I love you. And you’re hot when you’re smiling and excited.” He kissed Jason again, this time just because. “We should do things like this more often.”

Jason drew him closer. “Yeah? My workaholic can be pried away from his computer and his case notes without violent protests?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Yes. If it’s to spend time with you.” He grinned as a blush replaced the insecurity. “Want to go ride the Ferris wheel again and make out in the car?”

“I should make out with you by the cotton candy seller. She was checking you out. So was the fortune teller.”

Tim snagged a piece of the elephant ear. “Better them than some creepy old man.” He didn’t mention who crossed his mind. Jason’s scowl made it clear they shared the same thought: Ra’s al Ghul. Tim took another piece and changed the subject. “Since we’re eating so much unhealthy food we’re going to have to work out tonight. You especially. I’d hate to see your butt get fat.” He smirked at his boyfriend. 

“Or your thighs.” Jason gave Tim a wicked grin. “Sex after we drop off Dick and Damian?”

Tim stepped closer. The carnival faded into background noise around them as he leaned into Jason’s space. “I can think of a good way to work off some of these calories. Like I said, you better work hard.”

Jason’s eyes darkened. “Is that a challenge, Timmy?”

“It is.” Tim pushed up on tiptoe to kiss him. “Don’t disappoint me.”

“You know I won’t.” 

[cathcacen]

Bones and Parts finally meet! Requested by @phylophe ahahahahah these boys I love them so much.

The internet connection in his hotel room is terrible, and he’s already accidentally walked into three walls, an elderly couple, and a woman from the conference who had stopped to gush at him. He’d apologised profusely and proceeded walking, grumbling at his phone.

It isn’t until he’s squared away into a slightly dark and narrow sidewalk outside that the connection clears up, and he’s rewarded with the bright, toothless smile of his daughter. The little girl is already dressed for bed, and he’s grateful they aren’t so many time zones apart that he can’t say goodnight. She’s talking quickly at him, bouncing cheerfully on her Aunt Rei’s couch – something about a bear, a bird, and a fairy, and he’s somewhat aware that he’s smiling goofily. Several passers-by glance aside at him, all looking bemused.

He recognises some of them from the convention, but finds he doesn’t actually care what they think.

“Slow down, sweetheart.” He finds a place on the sidewalk and sits down. The bushes surround him, and he hopes there aren’t insects in there. “Slow down, what was that about the bear?”

“Auntie Rei told me a story about a bear and a bird who were friends! And then Uncle Lear drew them for me – look!” She holds up a crumply sheet of paper, where his brother in law’s unmistakeable sketches have rendered a round, fluffy grizzly with a tiny robin on its head. “Daddy, when are you coming home?”

“I’m flying back tomorrow. Be good until then?” He brushes her cheek on his screen with a finger. It’s what he hates most about travelling.

He can’t bring his daughter.

“Okay.” She holds her breath for a long moment, then lets out an all-too-adult sigh. “Daddy, will Auntie Rei check under my bed for monsters tonight?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve paid off the King’s army; they’re standing guard in your room, so the monsters won’t get you.” He’s not lying. He’d put exactly a hundred toy soldiers under the bed in Rei’s guest room a week ago. “And if they do a bad job, I’ll tell them off tomorrow, okay?”

She giggles as she nods. “Thank you, daddy. I miss you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart. Put your aunt on the phone, will you?”

By the time he’s done talking with Rei, it’s close to eleven and he’s in dire want of a good, long soak. The bathroom in his suite is designed with glass walls, so he turns on the television and pushes numbers until he finds a fairly reputable news network. There’s a short segment on the conference, and he watches as the screen plays a cut scene from the various happenings of the day. His own speech flashes across the screen for two seconds, and he lets out a chuckle.

He still can’t believe he’s finally met the designer in the flesh.

When he’s done cleaning up, he climbs into bed and falls in with a groan. He’s exhausted, but the lingering adrenaline from the day keeps him awake. He lies in bed over the next hour, trying and failing to sleep; the various happenings of the day keep replaying in his head. Key among them is his meeting with Haekel. He chuckles as he recalls the initial moments of their correspondence. It’d been easier than he’d thought it would’ve been.

Just ask Lear, will you? His sister had been unsympathetic to his plight. It’s not that big a deal, and I’ve already shared some of your thoughts and opinions with him anyway.

He’d spent weeks digging up research and thinking up reasons and justifications, only to be met with a mild, if somewhat amused “Sure” from his brother in law.

In retrospect, he realises both Rei and Lear must’ve had some fun with that. Bastards.

He sits up in bed, groaning. Forget it. There’s no way I’m getting any sleep right now.

It doesn’t take too long to dress. He throws on a t-shirt and the pair of sweatpants he’d brought for exercise, then heads down to the hotel’s lobby. Most of the hotel’s guests are asleep in their rooms by now, and he has full use of the lounge. Soft classical music plays in the background – he recognises it as Chopin.

He chooses a plush sofa and sinks into it, then flips open his laptop. The internet works much better in the lounge, so he goes about replying e-mails and reading up on his case updates from back home.

When he’s done with his work and there isn’t anything better left to do, he types Haekel’s full name into his browser, and is met with next to nothing – a few outdated mentions in a university newsletter and vague mentions in military-related reports. As far as he can tell, Miles Haekel is a ghost.

He glances around to check that he’s truly alone. Satisfied, he gets back to work. Haekel’s tech guy had given him a set of instructions for secure communications and encryptions; he runs through them one by one. Once he’s certain his network is secure, and that his browser history cannot be tracked through the hotel’s WiFi, he starts to dig into military records.

Let’s see what we’ve got here.

There’s a big warning sign at the start of the page. Under the Status section, bright red bold letters read “Defected, Wanted, Current Whereabouts Unknown”. Talk about a big damn entrance, Haekel.

It doesn’t exactly surprise him; Haekel’s parting words earlier, coupled with his association with Lear had given him an idea of sorts. He scrolls through the records, a little disappointed at the results his search had yielded. Nothing really stands out.

Then he gets to Haekel’s deployment history and almost yells in shock.

They’d served at the same base, at the same time.

He racks his mind for memories from that time, but it seems a lifetime ago and he has some difficulty. It had been in the infancy years of the war, in early days when both sides fought skirmishes with no concrete purpose. He’d been at the frontlines, a mere lieutenant at the time, though fortunate enough to have the backing of the Naveau name and his father’s recommendations.

The gears work slowly in his mind. He runs through the days, neglecting the rest of the information on the screen as he tries to bring up everything he can recall from the time. He remembers helping his superior on cases ranging from mild to mind-blowingly extreme. Reconnecting severed limbs, cutting off those beyond saving. Tendons and nerves and cartilage and everything else in between; he can’t even remember all the soldiers he’d seen and treated.

I must be getting old.

He closes his laptop, pinching at the bridge of his nose as he leans back with a heavy sigh. That feeling of déjà vu returns – I’ve seen his face before. Still, despite his best efforts, he can’t place it, though he has a sneaking suspicion it has to do with their shared time in the military.

What else, Hans? What else do you remember from then?

The answer hits him hard and fast, and he almost accidentally shoves his laptop off his lap when flipping it open. He’d changed his computer recently, but had thankfully backed up all his files. Where’s that commendation form? I know it’s in here somewhere.

It takes him close to an hour sifting through tens of digitised military forms, but he eventually finds the one he’s after.

Oh my god, Parts, you’re him. He scrolls through the file, laughing quietly. The memories click into place, and he thinks back to the events that had led to him writing the recommendation. His Major at the time, a Trauma surgeon from an allied country, had been adamant against the actions of a field medic.

Irresponsible, the Major had said. Breaks protocol like it means nothing.

The lives and limbs had all been saved, anyway. The medic’s work was unconventional; it was understandable, given he hadn’t trained as a doctor, but his usage of readily-available things in the field – debris, branches, five-thousand-dollar machines, and broken-up vehicle parts – was ingenious and effective.

He’d gone over the head of the Major to personally make the commendation to their Colonel. It hadn’t cost him too much – a week’s time-out from surgery for his indirect insubordination and a grudge that persisted to present day.

I guess that wasn’t nearly enough if he ended up defecting anyway. Now I know why he was nowhere to be found after, despite my commendations. He’d wanted a chance to work directly with the medic, but had been told he’d been dismissed.

He lets out a long breath, suddenly tired. A better man might lament the fact, he thinks, but Parts deserved a place to do his work unimpeded by protocol. Clearly he’s better off where he is now.

A quiet ping makes him jump. He checks his e-mail tab, then lets out a quiet laugh. Right on time, Parts.

“I have a present for you. Leave immediately after your talk tomorrow morning. Time and place of meeting TBD.”

He grins, then closes his laptop and gets to his feet. I guess what goes around comes around. Here’s to our future collaborations.