#snowbird chapter 2

[organised-disaster]

Here you go @randosfandos and @baxieblur-turnip since you wanted it so much I'm ENSURING you see it the second you check your notifs

SNOWBIRD: CHAPTER II

I shower, scrubbing my sweaty body. The breeze from the roof of the Justice Building air-dried me slightly, but it feels nice to finally be showering. My hair isn't especially dirty, and it's irritating trying to dry it, so I make a conscious effort to keep it away from the water. The soap smell is soothing. I can't quite place it.

I scrub my face. I get soap in my eyes. I no longer feel happy about the soap. I wash the soap off of me and out of my eyes as I think about today. It's the day of the Reaping, meaning I need to be prepared, just like every year, to potentially be sent to die.

Or watch someone I care about get sent to die... Yumi would tell me that she loves me in a situation like this. She did every year before she passed away.

Yumi. My older sister. Never did well as a Career. Yumi was gentle, empathetic. A bleeding heart, even. She couldn't bear to hurt anyone. If someone hit her, she'd ask them why instead of hitting back.

I step out of the shower, wrapping my towel around my torso. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Yumi and I didn't look similar to each other. Yumi's nose was softer and rounder, her eyes kinder. Yumi's hair was a dusty black, much lighter than my charred colour. Yumi was cheerful and radiated warmth and welcoming.

I can't stop seeing her instead of me when I look in a mirror, though. I knew Yumi's face as well as I know Sera's. I know that while her eyes were warmer, they were still as narrow and catlike as mine are. They still looked just as harsh in the wrong lighting.

I know that while Yumi's default expression was a soft smile, her anger still looked the same as mine. Anger was so rare, so jarring, that I couldn't help but memorise it.

I know that while I rarely smile at anyone but Sera, Yumi had dimples and creases identical to mine. I can't stand to smile at my reflection anymore. It's impossible not to see Yumi.

Sometimes I wonder if Sera sees Yumi in my smile as well. I wonder if she loves her exactly the same as I do. I wonder if she blames me exactly the same as I do.

I wonder if Sera sees Yumi in her own smile also. Yumi's narrow face didn't especially resemble Sera's, but Sera's eyes and Yumi's were similar browns, although Sera's eyes practically glow from the inside. Sera's smile has the same comforting quality as Yumi's.

Yumi was just as good with people as Sera, just as patient as Sera. Just as kind. Just as sweet. Just as trusting.

I wanted to be like her when I was younger. I know now that Yumi's thinking never did anything good for her. She needed to be vicious. Capable of taking a life. She wasn't, not when it mattered most.

I'll give her that. Yumi passed on her own terms. Yumi knew what she wanted. Yumi stuck with it. With her love for humanity. She's braver than me in that sense.

She was so much like Sera, it's almost like they're the same person. Perhaps that was the reason I got so close with Sera after Yumi died.

Or maybe the reason was because Sera loved Yumi, too, and felt her loss as much as I did.

There's a lump in my throat. My vision blurs slightly. I wipe my eyes, clearing my throat. I splash cold water on my face. Today, of all days, is a bad time to think of Yumi.

I violently scrub my face again, this time with my towel to dry it. I look up into the mirror by accident. My fringe is completely soaked. My eyes are reddened. There's a brief flash of Yumi's face across my vision, angry and full of hate.

It's gone as quick as it arrived. I hurriedly turn away from the mirror. I dry myself, keeping the mirror behind me the whole time.

After I'm no longer sticky, I pick up my clothes from the floor and start to get changed. A nice button-up and trousers. The shirt is grey, and the trousers are white, both slightly worn as they originally belonged to... I glance at the mirror again.

Yumi glares at me. She sniffs and wipes her nose as she finishes putting the clothes she wore on the day of the Reaping on. I leave the bathroom, and my sister, behind.

Sera is sitting on my bed, toying with her hands anxiously. Her eyes are trained on my clock, watching every second quietly thunk by. The sound of the clock is almost muffled by her uneven breathing and the occasional thump of her heel when her bouncing leg makes contact with the floor.

She smiles up at me when she notices me in the doorway, stopping her jittering. Her hands continue to shake slightly, as does her leg. Her eyes dart to what I'm wearing, then back up to my face again.

Her smile vanishes, if only for a moment. It's back so quickly, it's almost like she didn't react at all. She remembers, then. Well, how could she have forgotten?

Yumi was just as much Sera's sister as she was mine. If Sera wasn't at my house to talk to me, she was here to talk to Yumi. If Yumi was out, chances were that she'd be doing something with Sera.

Sera screamed louder than I did. Sera's grief was known. Sera gained sympathy.

Such an apathetic child...

No reaction whatsoever..?

Her sister...

How awful...

A monster, that's for sure...

I block out the whispers of District Four as I sit down next to Sera. As she always does when we are close like this, she leans into me. I put my arm around her and let her rest her head in the crook of my neck. She sighs deeply, her breathing calming down.

I know how deeply Sera craves the comfort of touch. I have always been averse. In general, if someone is making contact with my skin, it's because they're trying to hit me until I don't get back up.

But I also know how good it feels to be near to Sera. For our hands to be locked together, for our shoulders to be touching, for her breath to be on my neck.

Sera is gently gripping the hand attached to the arm I'm holding her with. She carefully traces lines along my palm with her thumbs, following the creases. Sera likes repetitive things like that.

There are a million things I could say to Sera. But just like every year, I don't need to say any of them. Now is not a time for words. Words come later. Words come after. And some words come never.

Words used to express relief. Words used to state gratitude. It's considered awful luck to say things like that. Especially when the people selected only have a one-in-twenty-four chance of coming home.

No matter what, there'll always be at least one grieving family. Sera's family has always been so lucky. Seth, Sera's brother, is only about a year older than I am. He's too old for the Reaping now. He's never been pulled.

Sera hasn't been pulled before, either. I hope she stays that way. I don't know what I'd do if she didn't. I've never thought about it, either. If I think about something like that, it starts getting hard to breathe.

I can't really think about it. My thoughts just won't go there, and if I force them to, they don't stay for long. I don't like it. I stay away from things like that. They belong at the very back of my mind with everything else.

I don't have to worry about that. Sera won't be pulled. I won't be pulled again. We're going to be okay.

Sera's switched from massaging my palm to fiddling with the hem of Yumi's shirt. She's started her gnawing of her lower lip, the already damaged skin bleeding slightly.

Her eyes flick to my clock again. I once again hear her breathing grow uneven as some degree of panic sets in. I squeeze her a little tighter, pull her a little closer.

Sera tears her eyes from the clock. Sera has a death grip on Yumi's shirt. I gently pry her fingers off, squeezing her hand when Yumi's shirt is free. Sera's tenderising of her lip ceases. Sera sighs and surrenders as we fall over together on my bed.

Sera adjusts herself to be resting her head on my chest, her feet hanging off the edge of my bed. Sera only ever wears one pair of shoes. A clunky pair of worn leather boots that fall off her feet at every possible occasion. They slide off, one actually hitting the floor while the other clings for dear life onto her ankle.

I hope my heartbeat doesn't speed up too much. It'll probably make Sera's head bounce if it does. I let my head fall back onto my pillow, my neck already hurting from my observation of Sera's boots.

Sera starts to toy with my hair, running it through her hands. She's always loved to compliment how shiny it is, how smooth I keep it. She always goes on to say how she wished she could have her hair as tidy and clean and nice-to-the-touch as mine.

I never said anything to her. Perhaps I should have. I would have liked to tell her that her tousled mess was charming. That it framed her face. That it brought out her smile.

I would not have liked to tell her that it made her look like Yumi, who wore her unkempt, unruly disaster in almost the exact same way. I don't think Sera remembers, but her hair was kept neat once, too.

Back when Yumi was still alive and Sera's mother was still around. Sera saw her family a lot more when she was younger, her brother not yet graduated, and her father not totally responsible for their income.

She had to brush her hair every couple of hours and apply some sort of gel to it, but it stayed in place. The kind of cutesy style that made little girls an object of affection for all the little boys.

She was maybe around seven when she properly met Yumi. She had come over to my house and accidentally walked into Yumi's room, briefly forgetting which was mine.

Yumi was fourteen at the time. She had been so sweet with Sera. By the time I realised that Sera had gotten lost somewhere, she was already playing some sort of complex game that involved knots with Yumi.

I tried to join. I wasn't good with knots then. I'm better now, but I still struggle with complicated ones. Sera has always been so talented with her hands. She's always had such nimble fingers.

I finally tied a knot. Yumi couldn't untie it. Neither of our parents could untie it. Sera couldn't untie it. That memory has resulted in this sweet mental image. Of Yumi sitting on the floor of her room, her little sisters next to her, puzzling over a knot tied by the least competent one.

That mutual lack of understanding for how I created such a thing was a building block for their relationship. I don't quite remember what became of the knot. I believe I gave it to Sera.

Sera has always admired Yumi. Sera saw the way Yumi wore her hair and decided it was the most amazing thing she had ever seen. She mimicked Yumi in other, smaller ways that she still does to this day.

A little flick of the hand here, a tonal shift there. Sera saw how Yumi played with her hair when nervous and started doing it herself. She does it automatically now, pinching and rolling her blonde locks between her thumb and forefinger.

I absently run my hands through Sera's curls. My fingers snag on knots, and I hear Sera wince as I work them out. I groan.

"Sera, did you brush your hair this morning?"

Sera doesn't respond. She's pretending to be asleep. I know from experience that Sera takes at least ten minutes to fall asleep; it hasn't even been three. I sit up, Sera sliding down my chest, then sitting up as well.

Sera won't meet my eyes. I sigh and rub her face.

"You need to take care of yourself, Sera," I say, disappointed but not surprised. Sera tends to neglect things like this. Only small things, and she doesn't really resist, but she doesn't do them if she's not prompted.

Brushing her hair is a bad one. She almost never does it. I have to do it for her most of the time. Once, I didn't see her for four days because of an especially busy week for both of us.

It took me ten minutes to clean the accumulated grime off of her body and at least an hour to work the knots out of her hair. I scolded her the entire time for her forgetfulness. I wasn't surprised that her family didn't remind her, considering that her father and Seth were out fishing for a good three days. I assume Sera avoided them on day four.

"I know, Rumes. I'm sorry," she mumbles. "It's just... I didn't have the time this morning." Sera's excuse is flimsy. I stand up and walk over to my dresser, locating my hairbrush. I walk back over to my bed and sit down. Sera obediently turns to show me the back of her head.

I start to slowly run the brush through her tangled mop.

"I think we both know that isn't true, Sera." I'm not trying to be accusing. But I'm not trying to be nice.

Sera winces, both at the fact that I've caught her and because of the knot the brush has just caught on. It rips out a little of her hair as I work it through.

"I... It's..." Sera sighs. "It's a little hard, you get it?"

I don't. I really don't get it. Self-care has never given me any trouble, but I don't dare mention this to Sera. Telling Sera she's strange for not washing her face won't help her. Reminding her that she needs to do it will.

I've never been completely certain if her poor care of herself was because of her faulty memory or something else. I'd love to blame it on her memory, but Sera's general... erraticness is probably to blame.

She'll start tasks and forget about them entirely, she'll lose track of time, she'll forget to drink water... It's not really a surprise that she forgets important things anymore. She remembers to eat, at least. That removes some level of worry I have for her.

"Yes," I lie. This seems to reassure Sera. A part of her hair bounces back into shape as I finish pulling the brush through. I start again at my next chosen section, running my hands through what I've brushed. For a long time, there is no sound but our breathing and the soft, gentle noise of the brush through Sera's hair.

"You remembered to wash it. That's good," I say aloud, recalling its pleasant smell and softness when I hugged her earlier. I should have praised her then.

"Thank you," says Sera, a little uncertain. I regret speaking almost immediately.

Sera sighs and fidgets. Her other boot fell off at some point.

"You look like her, you know," she says quietly. I force the brush so hard through her hair it slightly yanks her head back. It was an accident. I hope.

"Sorry." There's a long silence.

"You really do, though. You look like Yumi," Sera finishes.

"Can we not talk about this, Sera?" I ask. Sera huffs.

"You can't just pretend she doesn't exist because she isn't around anymore," says Sera, more certain this time.

"I'm not," I respond levelly.

"Then w-w-why do you keep acting like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you never cared." I yank the brush suspended in Sera's hair.

"Hey, look at that. It's stuck," I say, letting go of it. It remains in Sera's hair. She reaches around to the back of her head and pulls it free, handing it back to me.

"Stop doing that, Rumi," she says, sounding like she's dealing with a small child.

"Doing what?" I ask, starting to brush Sera's hair again. Sera sighs.

"You know exactly w-w-what I'm talking about, Rumes. Don't change subjects to avoid things," she says. I don't avoid things. I'm not avoiding anything.

I voice this. Sera sighs again.

"You do, though, Rumes. You are. It's okay if you miss her. I do, too," says Sera. I finish brushing her hair and throw my hairbrush at my back wall. It thunks onto my dresser again.

"Can we just not, Sera?" Sera turns around to face me.

"I think w-w-we should, though," she says. I don't want to listen to her anymore. "I think w-w-we need to talk about her."

"We don't. There's nothing more we could say," I mutter.

"Rumi, you get so... distant. Around this time of year, you just avoid talking about her entirely."

"Have you ever thought that maybe I don't want to talk about a dead woman?" I snap.

"Yeah. Lots," Sera responds softly. "But you talk about her." I stiffen.

"You like to mention her from time to time, anyw-w-way," says Sera. "You joke about how Yumi w-w-would do this, Yumi w-w-would like that, blah blah blah."

I turn away from Sera, no longer enjoying this conversation.

"Rumes, you talk about her like she's just... aw-w-way," says Sera thoughtfully. "And I think that's good, I do, because -"

"Stop." Sera sighs softly.

"Rumes, can w-w-we just talk -"

"Stop."

"Rumi, it's not healthy to bottle these things up. If you don't w-w-want to talk now, that's fine, but -"

"I don't want to talk about it at all," I interject. "I don't need to, I don't want to, I won't. It's that simple." Sera needs to drop it. I'm fine. I'm acting normal. I always behave like this.

"She died for a good reason, okay? And I think w-w-we -"

"A good reason? You think it was good?" I interrupt. Sera looks startled.

"Rumes, that's not w-w-what I -"

"Oh? It's not w-w-w-w-what you m-m-m-eant?!" I shout, imitating her stammer.

"Rumi..." Sera's definitely upset. I've crossed a line. I don't care. Maybe she deserves it, just this once.

"Why don't we all just celebrate, huh?! 'Cause Yumi's dead! That's GREAT!"

"Rumi, just stop..." Sera mumbles.

"Sorry, you'll have to speak up! I can't hear you under all those extra letters!" I find the wound and tear it open.

"Rumi, w-w-w-why are you -"

"Oh, get to the point! How hard is it to talk?!" Sera flinches. She pinches the crooked part of her nose. She always does that when she gets self-conscious.

"Rumi, please just calm down," says Sera, voice gaining a pleading quality. I ignore this.

"Calm down?! You want me to calm down?!"

Sera's eyes start to water.

"Oh, don't you start crying AGAIN! You're so bloody emotional all the time!"

"You don't even have emotions!" she snaps back. Sera gets up off my bed.

"Maybe the reason you act like you don't care is because you really don't!" My sheets are pulled taught as I clench my hands. Sera angrily kicks her foot into one of her boots, looking for the other one. "Maybe you didn't cry at her funeral because you didn't love her!"

"Of course I loved her! She was my sister!" I shout, following Sera as I kick her boot from my bed into my wall. She snatches it off the floor and slams her foot into it.

"She w-w-was my sister, too!" Sera shoots back.

"No! No, she wasn't! Yumi was never your sister! No matter how close you think you were, you were never her sister!"

That's hurt her. She stops for a moment, tears threatening to start rolling down her cheeks.

"I loved her. Doesn't that mean something?" For just a moment, I feel a sliver of regret. It vanishes.

"Doesn't mean anything. You never meant anything to her," I snarl. This is untrue. Yumi did truly care about Sera. But now I just want to hurt her. Sera mumbles something.

"Huh? Speak up!" I demand. "You wanna say something? Say it to my face!"

"At least I'm not the reason she's dead," she says. There's utter silence.

"What?" Sera is completely crying now.

"At least," she repeats. "I'm not," she continues. "The reason she's dead."

"So you're saying it's my fault, then?"

Silence.

"N- no, I... No, I'm sorry. I got angry."

"No, I get it."

"Rumes, please, I didn't mean it. It w-w-wasn't your fault."

"It was, though. It's my fault. And it's always going to be my fault."

"It's not! I got angry! I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I've never been that angry before. I'm sorry. If it's any-w-w-one's fault, it's mine. I could've -"

"Just stop, Sera."

"Rumes..."

"You can go now, Sera."

"But -"

"You can go now, Sera. Go home. Say hi to Seth for me."

Sera nods. She tries to hug me. I gently push her away.

"I'm sorry, Rumes."

"So am I." Sera opens the door.

Sera hesitates, standing in the doorway.

"Yumi w-w-would have said you look nice."

The door closes.

[albatmobile]

Cardinal Sins Chapter 2

𓅪 Living with your vigilante boyfriends for the past year has been amazing, well, almost. Butting heads, old wounds resurfacing and a deadly threat still looming overhead could threaten the sanctity of everything you've ever fought for. Will you finally overcome your tainted past and survive the trials and tribulations, or will your relationships and your faith crumble under the pressure?

Rated: E | 7.3k | Contains: stakeouts, interrogations, sex pollen, public sex fem!Reader x Jason Todd x Roy Harper [masterlist] Previous in Series: Art of Rehabilitating Snowbirds

Chapter Two: Novocaine

When you get home, Jason’s silent as you and Roy excitedly rehash your interrogation. 

Dick takes off a few minutes into the conversation, noting Lian had been put to bed at 8 and had been sufficiently fed with Dick’s famous sarmale. 

Once he’s gone, Roy reattempts to pick up your quickly souring mood that Jason’s pouty attitude has caused.

“Baby, when you pushed him away,” Roy has his arm around your shoulder as he guides you into the master bathroom, “I was like, ‘holy fuck, she’s about to whip him the fuck up,’” he snorts as he wordlessly helps Jason remove his armor, continuing to recount, “And then you literally whipped him the fuck up.”

You giggle, though it’s soon cut off by Jason’s quiet grumbling. 

You’ve had enough.

From the death glares he’s been shooting you coupled with all of his under-breath comments, you’re about ready to lose your shit.

“Got something to say, Jay?” Your eyes narrow at the aforementioned man, mimicking his slitted emeralds. “Or are you content to mutter under your breath like a child?”

Roy’s shoulders sag as he looks between the two of you, fully knowing what’s coming next.

Jason scoffs, turning his attention to Roy just to piss you off even more. It works. “Why do you keep acting like it’s a good thing that she’s getting physical with mercenaries?”

“It’s not like what we do is any better, Jay,” Roy chastises him lightly before shutting the door with a quiet click behind the three of you. 

Jason huffs, “Whatever.”

As soon as it’s shut, you waste no time in advancing on Jason, finger accusatorially pointing in his direction. When you reach him, your finger bends as it firmly meets his built chest. 

“What’s your fucking damage, Jason?” you complain, making sure to keep your voice low. “We got the lead, you’re welcome, by the way, so what’s the fucking issue?”

Roy groans, watching as another fight rears up between the two of you.

“It was a rookie mistake to let you take charge,” Jason insists. He tears off his shirt and his pants follow soon after. You try not to check him out; really, you do, but it doesn’t work. He rolls his eyes under your blushing inspection and moves past your smaller form into the bathroom. 

“Again,” you huff, “I got the information, didn’t I?” 

Don’t stare at his abs, don’t stare at his abs.

He hops into the spray, giving you a full view of his abs and so much more.

Fuck.

You cross your arms, facing away from him with a pout. 

You’re angry, you’re very angry. He’s so hot… but you’re so fucking angry…

You unwittingly bite your lip, following the streams of water that trickle down every delicious curve of his muscular body.

“Yeah,” he laughs humorlessly, running a hand through his wet hair as he looks at you with an unreadable look, “by dry-humping him.”

Okay, yeah, the anger’s definitely back.

You’re in his face in an instant, abs be damned. “FUCK YOU!”

Roy, who’s halfway through removing his pants, nearly trips as he holds you back from giving Jason a piece of your mind. “Woah, woah!” the redhead exclaims at the sudden shift. Meanwhile, you glare at Jason’s smug face, flipping him off easily. “Hey, enough.” Roy’s using his dad voice now. “Both of you. This is getting ridiculous.” 

Roy checks you over and once he’s determined you’ve calmed down, he joins your boyfriend in the extra large walk-in shower.

“I just don’t understand why you can’t just tell me how you feel, Jason,” you hold out your arms as you sigh in exasperation. “Why does it have to be jabs? Why does it have to be a fight? I love you!” Jason’s taunting smirk disappears and is replaced by a grim line, then blankness. “Please,” you plead, “just talk to me, Jay.”

He doesn’t bother getting annoyed about the nickname anymore, having long given up on stopping you from saying it once Roy had given the okay.

“You don’t have anything to prove to us,” is all he says.

Them?

He thinks this is still about them?

“Maybe I want to prove something to myself,” you breathe. 

Silence immediately falls as your words sink down over the room with the steam. The shower spray batters the tile as the three of you take each other in.

You distract yourself by changing into your pjs and washing your face, looking at them in the mirror and trying not to get distracted by their tempting nudity. To save yourself from getting caught staring further, you wait for them on the bed.

They finish up and dry off soon enough and join you in the bedroom.

Roy climbs beside you and wraps you in his arms easily, but Jason lingers by his nightstand, fiddling with the note he’d written for you and Roy back in high school. 

‘Remember for them.’

You watch Jason, feeling Roy’s familiar gaze flit anxiously from lover to lover as the two of you wait for him to speak.

“I,” Jason starts suddenly, looking down at the note as he does so. “We,” he corrects himself and chances a glance in your direction, “don’t want to see you get hurt.” He sets the note down and sits on the bed. “I love you both a lot. I can’t stop Roy from fighting, so it’s not fair of me to stop you, but I don’t hate it any less than I hate him going out in the field,” he sighs. “And I’m sorry for being a dick.”

You draw Jason against your chest, rubbing his back while you press kisses against his hairline. “Do you really think I’d put myself out there, hell, you think Bruce would encourage me to go out there if I couldn’t hold my own?” Jason raises a dubious brow, but it’s beside the point. “Let me show you what I’ve got, both of you,” you’re pleading now and you know it. “Please.”

Jason tilts his head up to look at Roy, who’d conceded long ago, for confirmation he already knows is there.

“Fine,” he says. After this, Jason wastes no time in pulling you down into a sweet kiss, then Roy. 

Roy doesn’t let you off the hook as he draws you close for a toe-curling kiss and lowers you to the mattress below. “I’d totally fuck you, princess,” he yawns in the middle of your nickname, “and the grumpy, old man, too, if I weren’t 10 seconds away from falling asleep.”

You and Jason both laugh as you settle into their embrace and drift off for the night.

And, thus, contention #2 comes to an actual end...

Hopefully.

•••

Two days later, you’re hacking into the surveillance cams at Gotham Botanical Gardens.

“Do you see anything, Sitter?” Arsenal asks.

You roll your eyes at your loathed codename which was short for babysitter, aka the whole excuse they used to reach out to you two years ago.

You watch as the two of them stealthily make their way into the underground storage unit, watching for obstacles.

“Yeah,” you drawl. “A shit ton of leaves, a few plants,” your fingers tap boredly against the wooden desk, “some dirt.”

The entire lot is entirely vacant aside from all the obvious flora and fauna littering about. Well, that and one janitor, but he’s been finished cleaning for a few minutes now it seems.

Hood’s gruff voice replaces Arsenal’s over the comms, “He meant anything useful.”

“Stand by,” you respond tonelessly.

Comics never really went over how long these missions take, not just set up either, but also staking out. Timing is everything and it’s slowly becoming a skill that you’re understanding. Having watched them over comms nearly every night this past year, you’ve picked up on some things.

Actually being in the field, though, definitely feels different.

After another 30 minutes of making sure that, yes, the janitor was the last person in the building, the mission finally begins.

“Sitter to position in,” Arsenal’s voice crackles in your ear, stirring you from your boredom, “5.”

You stretch your body as you stand up from the surveillance desk, groaning as you do, “Copy.”

Time to get suited up.

All your energy floods back in an instant. You giddily pull out your freshly made suit that Damian and Jon had dropped off earlier when Jason and Roy had been prepping. Neither have seen anything and you kept close-lipped about the design.

It’ll be a complete surprise for both of them.

Five minutes click by and you swiftly place a stray chair under the closest air vent to hop in. You close it behind you before carefully traversing the duct system, using Red Hood’s directions as your guide.

“You should be seeing a vent opening dead ahead,” his deep, robotic tone warbles across your earpiece. “You’ll see Roy and me.”

Sure enough, when you look down, they’re both standing there waving at you.

“Copy,” you respond, waving back but it’s far too dark for them to see you. “Sitter is in position.”

“Are you wearing the,” Roy trails off teasingly.

“Wearing the new suit?” you finish for him. “Yeah, I am.”

You don’t need the comm system to hear Red Hood’s heavy sigh, “Would the two of you get your heads in the game?” 

You and Arsenal both sulkily respond at the same time, “Copy.”

“Good,” he says. “I think I found something.”

You watch as he and Arsenal move to further open a door that’s been left ajar. 

Weird.

You hadn’t seen that on the security cameras.

You have to let them know something’s up. 

“Hood, Arsenal.”

“Go for Outlaws,” comes Arsenal’s quiet response.

Just as you’re about to warn them that the security footage has been on loop, a room full of vines shoot out to capture them both. 

You barely manage to cover your gasp as a redheaded woman slowly slinks into the room. Vines follow behind her like loyal dogs as they snake menacingly throughout the large, open space. You can’t help but bristle at her scantily clad getup as she saunters toward your men.

You’re sitting on your haunches in the vent, waiting for their signal, but it still doesn’t come.

She sidles up to your boyfriends, slowly petting their faces as she coos something you can’t make out. 

Your fist clenches. Just who does this green bitch think she is?

Both move their disgruntled faces away, but the searing smog of jealousy is already weighing down on you, pumping through your veins like adrenaline with every agonizing beat of your heart.

In your crouched position, you steel yourself to put an end to this. Your entire body thrums with rage, feeling the icy heat of it trapped against your body like, well, some sort of a greenhouse effect.

Still, their signal never comes.

Her skin slides against them as they struggle while her fingers trickle along the same paths yours have long ago claimed. You’re shaking now, hands and teeth clenched as you wait.

Still nothing.

You can hardly think anymore. All you feel is the pulsating rage of insecurities rushing to your skull, drowning it until you have no choice but to attack.

They belong to you.

Your body reacts before your jealousy-submerged mind can catch up. 

You bash in the vent with your heeled boots, using both hands on either side to launch yourself out of it like a slingshot. Your right leg surges forward as you sail across the room, preparing to put this costumed freak on the ground.

“Woah.” You hear as you whiz past Arsenal and land a kick straight to her stupid, moldy-green face.

“Agh!” she grunts. The villain skids to the floor but almost immediately pushes herself into a standing position. She rubs at her swollen cheek, eyeing you up all the while. “My, my. What a pretty flower you are.” Her green lips smile sinisterly and the woman begins to circle you as she takes in your red vinyl costume appreciatively. “I haven’t seen you around these parts before. Name’s Ivy,” she smirks, reaching out a leaf-covered hand in your direction, “Poison Ivy.”

The neon green of her lidded eyes scour over your suit, as if memorizing it.

“That actually explains a lot,” you snark. “Call me, Cardinal.”

She hums, "Interesting."

Before you can bat her hand away from you, two vines restrain your arms to your sides.

“Hey!” you yelp. You’re instantly lifted in the air, where she holds your flailing form.

You attempt to struggle, but the vines only tighten their hold on you as you do so. Suddenly, she begins to talk about her careful care over her plants, which you use as a distraction. The clawed tips of your gloves, a design Luke had suggested implementing, immediately get to work. You use their sharp tips to saw through the thick vines, only bothering to feign attention when her sly eyes shift your way.

You grunt, glaring at her smug face as she delicately pets your leafy restraints. “Do play nice,” she says, petting a few plants that she's grown to hold her in a verdant throne of sorts. “My babies haven’t had civil company in quite some time.”

Is she serious?

Fuck. This.

“I’m fucking tired,” you finally manage to saw through the vine enough to wriggle your one hand free, then the other, “of you second-rate villains telling me to play nice.”

Completely freed, you swing your dangling body to knock her sideways, out of her throne and onto her ass. From there, you waste no time in grappling with her, throwing vicious right hooks at her head. It’s completely savage and you wish you didn’t feel such an exhilarating rush from beating her down, but you do.

She lands a few good hits on you, but you refuse to give her the upper hand. You lower your block, allowing her to pay you back for the previous head shots as you position yourself for the final blow.

The two of you are grunting, in both pain and aggression as you struggle to get her pinned.

One uppercut to the chin is all it takes for her to finally slip into an unconscious state. She quiets, though you remain on her, panting for a few beats longer to make sure she’s actually down. Only when the other vines recede, do you allow yourself to get up. 

Your gate is slightly wobbly, but you still manage to jog over to cut off the remaining vines from Red Hood and Arsenal.

“Love the suit, baby, but, damn,” Arsenal greedily eyes you up, “you weren’t pulling any of those punches, were you?”

You’re embarrassed that you’ve allowed your jealousy to get the best of you, but, for now, you try to brush it off, “Couldn’t risk her getting the drop on me.”

Hood doesn’t really say anything, just runs his hands up and down the expanse of your body appreciatively. “Cardinal, huh?”

“Yeah,” you say with a sheepish rub of your arm. “I, you know,” you trail off self-consciously, “when I knew, I knew.” 

It’s not that you need their approval, it’s that you want it. 

Ever since you picked up your first comic book, you’ve been waiting for a moment just like this. Regardless of what Damian had warned, this whole night felt straight out of the ones you used to read when you were younger.

Red Hood and Arsenal have been in the game way longer than you have and, if you’re going to be fighting by their side, you want to hear what they think of your hero persona.

“Cardinal it is, then, sexy,” Arsenal encourages. Not too long after, his gloved hand sneaks down your back to grab at your ass.

“In the field, Arsenal?” Hood’s robotic tone warbles across the gentle hum of the lights. “Really?”

Arsenal immediately removes his hands from you. “Totally right, sorry, baby.”

“Cardinal,” you correct.

“Let me just,” he cuts himself off, mimicking zipping his lips dramatically enough for you to start giggling.

All the while, Ivy’s slowly come to. She blearily takes in your crew before shoddily aiming the tiny silver crossbow that adorns her wrist in your direction.

“Unh!” you grunt in pain a small arrow embeds into your shoulder. “TAKE COVER!” you warn. At the same time Jason tackles you out of the way, collecting an arrow in his back for you as he does. 

Meanwhile, Arsenal unleashes a barrage of much larger arrows her way.

Ivy’s more coherent now and able to dodge every single shot he sends her way.

Not good.

“Cover is futile with me in a room full of plants, lovely,” she teases as teeth chomp suddenly down around you. “I won’t play so nice this time, darling.”

Her voice gets cut off, muffled by your new prison.

It’s dark.

There’s a sliver of light where you can make out your boyfriends attacking Poison Ivy through wispy teeth.

You’re pretty sure you’re inside some kind of mouth, but- what?!

Seriously, what kind of plant has teeth???

You extend your arms as far as they’ll go as you push around the vast dark cavern but it only causes the mouth to close completely.

Shit.

Don’t panic.

Don’t panic.

It’s warm here, especially with the suffocating fabric of your suit plastered up against your panting face.

“FUCK!”

You bang against the hollow cavern, feeling helpless.

All at once, boiling fluids begin to rise toward you, leaving you to feel even more helpless.

Claws.

Oh, shit. 

You want to smack yourself upside the head for forgetting about the only weapon on your suit- your sharp gloves. 

You sink your fingertips into the fleshy stomach (?) you’re currently inside. 

The material is veiny and crisp, so your claws crush through the stomach like a paring knife through an apple.

Arsenal’s right there to catch you, rolling your bodies to the side to avoid being swallowed by, what you now realize, is a truck-sized Venus flytrap.

“Holy shit!” you exclaim breathlessly, looking up at Roy as he checks you over for any injuries. “I’m good, baby. I’m good,” you assure him, taking the hand he offers to get you back on your feet.

“MY BABY!” 

“CARDINAL,” Hood screams over Ivy’s screeching, “ARSENAL, GET DOWN!”

Arsenal drops with you, unleashing two arrows as a loud crash sounds from behind the two of you. Upon contact, the arrows burst and envelope the room in a thick fog.

It’s quiet, though you can hear your breathing from where you lie.

You turn to your side and faintly see Arsenal looking around.

“You really think some fog will stop me?” Ivy sounds like she’s gritting her teeth at this point. All at once, her vines shoot out to capture Arsenal from beside you. You hear Red Hood grunting somewhere close in the distance and assume he’s been captured, too. “You,” she hisses, stalking your way before crawling on top of you to pin your hands to the ground. You struggle against her hold as she manically smirks down at you. “You’ve destroyed my precious plant,” she caresses your face, leaning in as if she’s about to kiss you, “now, prepare to pay the price.”

Her hands shoot down from your wrists to your throat.

“Get off of me!” you screech as your hands wrap around hers in a vain attempt to pry them off of you.

“Silence!” Poison Ivy bangs your head back against the tiled floors below. “The three of you think you can just waltz in here and destroy my property? Did you really think I wouldn’t put up a fight, or are you all just that sloppy?” she scoffs, “Now look at you,” she mirthfully smiles down at you, “you’re beneath me. You’re all beneath me.” Her grip tightens and you feel yourself slipping out of consciousness at the added pressure. “All you humans are good for is fertilizer.”

“Fuck you,” you struggle to speak against her chokehold. 

As a last-ditch attempt, you use the oldest trick in the book.

You tap her on the shoulder, briefly distracting her enough to have her hands around your neck to loosen. It’s only a brief moment, but you use it to buck your hips, swiveling under her small frame to dislodge her from on top of you. You lunge after her, sending puffs of smoke into the air as you wrestle around with her in the blinding fog.

You have the upper hand, but you know if the plants get involved again, you’re fucked.

Time to put her back to sleep.

You hear Arsenal and Red Hood’s grunts on either side of you as you pummel her into the ground. Fist after fist. Even when you miss and your hand crashes agonizingly into the ground below, you don’t let up.

Payback?

Probably.

Justified?

Totally.

Finally, the vines from around your lovers grow limp and the two of them break free.

You can hear Arsenal and Hood stirring from behind you, so you halfway turn around, accentuating the curve of your ass in your vinyl-clad suit.

The smoke has mostly cleared now, though, for some reason, your throat still feels tight.

Weird.

Before you can ponder it further, both your boyfriends come up to give you huge hugs.

“Yeah,” Arsenal says with a proud smirk, eyeing your voluptuous cheeks as he pulls away from you, “I’m fuckin’ that ass.” The redhead groans, however, when he pulls away and sees one of Poison Ivy’s arrows embedded in his chest. He pulls it out with a small wince.

“Stop,” you complain, “I’m trying to look like a professional over here!” For some reason, every movement sends a flash of tingling heat across your skin. You shake it off, meeting Arsenal’s wild grin with a snort.

“Oh, it looks professional alright,” he teases.

With one last quick look around the place, he and Hood move to restrain Ivy’s unconscious form. When the place is deemed clear, Arsenal slings her over his shoulder so your group can take her to another location for interrogation.

•••

The room you’ve picked is high up, clear in the city and far, far away from any plants.

Your mission earlier today had been to make sure the room was completely void of any plants. Literally, any plants. You’d found a quarter inch of grass and had to dispose of it.

Ivy doesn’t put up much of a fight once she realizes there’s no way out.

That, and she’s got two guns and a crossbow pointed at her head.

“Gee,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “Guess I’ve done it this time...” she trails off coyly. “This being what exactly? If you don’t mind me asking.” Her drawling tone makes it clear that she doesn’t really care if you do or don’t mind.

“The shipment to Black mask,” Red Hood starts and shoots at the wall directly behind her, the bullet whizzing past her ear. He’s not wasting any time tonight. She automatically straightens in her seat in response to the shot. “What did you give them?” he demands.

She catches herself before swiftly sliding into another coy smirk. “That’s all you want to know?”

“We’re not playin’ games over here, Ivy.” Another shot. This time from Arsenal with his arrow sticking a millimeter away from her foot. “What was in the box?”

However much they try to intimidate her, her eyes never leave you. You know she can’t see under your mask, so you have no idea why you feel like she can. Honestly, it gives you the shivers.

You tilt your head ever so slightly, hoping it comes off as menacing, but her eyes merely gleam. For what, you have no idea.

“A stem,” she answers carefully.

You’re glad your mask hides the entirety of your face because you’re shell-shocked.

Your vision had been of a stem…

Her response only adds credibility that what you’re seeing is actually happening…

You take three menacing steps forward before you even realize it. 

She’s playing way too much for your taste and if Arsenal and Red Hood aren’t going to beat some sense into her, you are.

You don’t have to say anything to have her leaning slightly back, away from your threatening demeanor. You place one of your pointed-toed boots in the space between her green thighs on the chair. Your head slowly tilts to the side, smiling under your mask as she follows your movement easily.

Her eyes flicker from your eyeholes, sliding down the stitched red vinyl of your outfit and along your leg until her gaze finally settles on your foot.

Without a word, you kick with all your might, sending the chair right smack against the concrete wall behind it. You push it with such force that one of the chair’s legs snaps in the process. 

She groans, attempting to loosen her restraints, but it’s futile.

You approach the discarded leg slowly, noting how her breathing picks up as soon as you approach her tied-up form on the floor to grab it. You twist the wood around playfully like a baseball bat before swiftly swinging it up above your head as if to bash her.

The leg doesn’t even come close to contact before you get your answer.

“IT WAS A ROSE!” she finally admits. You halt your movement, leaving your weapon hovering dangerously close to her squinting left eye. “It was a rose,” she repeats lamely.

“What kind?” Arsenal asks.

“The extinct Winter Rose.” She glares at you, but you remain completely still to maintain your off-putting demeanor. “The very same ingredient I use to poison my arrows,” she adds, seemingly pleased with herself. 

As soon as she mentions it, a flash of heat pulses down your body.

You have been feeling extremely warm ever since one had gotten embedded in your shoulder. You’d chalked it up to the skintight costume, but apparently not.

You hear subtle shuffling behind you and realize that they’d both been struck, too.

“The buyer?” you growl, leaning further over her tied body. She shrugs, smirking at you with a newfound confidence you intend to beat out of her. “I’ve got time,” you say right before bashing down on her collarbone until the chair leg in your hand breaks once again. 

“You wanna change your answer?” Arsenal comes up from behind you and you know he’s trying to take over. “Can’t hold my partner back for much longer,” he jokes, though he’s the only one who laughs. 

You know he thinks you’ve lost it, hell, Jay too, but you’re the only one getting any actual answers. 

Red Hood nods his head in the direction of the door.

He wants you to leave?

You mimic his motion with a sass you know he catches immediately. You fucking leave if you can’t handle it, Hood.

Even through the heat of whatever poison, even through his impenetrable helmet, you feel ice leaking from him.

To combat the cold, you turn around, giving him your shoulder in response.

Arsenal has been trying to get her to talk, but to no avail.

You had her.

She was about to talk.

They’d ruined it…

It’s as if you blackout, pushing past Arsenal to slam down on another chair leg. It breaks easily. The sound of splintering wood crackles throughout the small room, silencing Arsenal’s line of questioning.

Ivy makes a small noise that she attempts to cover by clearing her throat, but you know she’s scared of you.

You slowly stand, feeling all eyes on you as you rise and extend the splintered end of the chair leg between her eyes. The splintered wood barely scrapes against her green skin, but it’s only to serve as a reminder that it’s there.

“Let’s try this again,” your voice sings lowly. “Buyer, destination.” It’s no longer a question but rather a demand.

When she doesn’t answer, you press the ragged wood further into her skin. Small bubbles of green liquid seep out and kiss at the ends of your interrogation weapon, reminding her of the damage you can and will do.

Hell truly hath no fury like a woman scorned.

“The buyer was Joker,” she answers after a long pause. You remove the wood briefly, only to puncture her skin lightly again. It works. “FINE! The destination was Cadmus.”

You don’t have to look behind you to see Arsenal’s shock.

Cadmus had been the one who’d stolen your loves all those years ago. They’d kidnapped Roy, cloned him and, in his absence, Jason tirelessly went in search of him.

“Why did they want it?” Red Hood’s robotic voice brings you back to reality. 

“The girl’s a lot better at this than either of you.” To prove her wrong, Red Hood swiftly kicks her in the stomach. Instead of drawing it out any longer, she responds with a pained exhale, “He wants the protein in it. For what, I don’t know. Honestly.”

Hood turns to the side and backs away as soon as Arsenal nods. Without warning, Red Hood opens a capsule right under her nose. The three of you watch as the woman finally falls limp in her uncomfortable, tied position on the floor.

Distant sirens sound from down the street and you know the three of you have to go.

Arsenal punches open the window with his bionic arm and motions for you and Hood to join him. His arm whirrs briefly as a grappling gun rises from the black metal. You watch as he aims, seemingly without looking, at the office building across the way. He ties it off and tugs on the line quickly, ensuring its tautness before using his bow to zipline across the expanse.

“Here,” Red Hood offers as he whips out his shotgun. Without wasting a second, he scoops you up to hold you against his armored chest. 

Regardless of your earlier jealousy, you’re just glad to be in his arms. You wrap your legs around his torso as best you can while wrapping your arms around his thick neck and hold on tight as he uses the shotgun to slide along the rope.

Once you land on the accompanying rooftop, Arsenal cuts the line.

The walk back to the bike is quiet as the three of you avoid cop cars and civilians alike. The interrogation is over, sure, but once you’re all on the bike, the questioning truly begins.

“You want to talk about what happened?” 

You frown, refusing to look at either of them. “Nothing technically happened,” you mutter, sounding unconvincing even to yourself. 

“You looked downright murderous,” Roy starts cautiously as he hands you a helmet. 

“I can’t help my face.” You give them your best impression of innocence, but neither buy it.

“Next, you’re going to tell me that, ‘at least we got answers.’” You’re still in public, so he’s yet to remove his Red Hood helmet, though he has turned the voice modulator off. “Aren’t you?”

You remove your hands from around his waist, motioning your arms to the side like it’s obvious. “And we did. Didn’twe?” you respond pointedly.

Arguing has never turned you on before, but for some reason, you’re itching to touch yourself.

You blame it on the new suit, though Poison Ivy’s warning rings in your ear.

Poison.

From underneath you, you feel Roy’s dick stir to life suddenly. It only confirms your suspicions that whatever uncomfortableness you’ve been feeling for the past hour has been due to that dumb, green bitch’s arrows.

“Uh,” Roy starts, shifting in the seat. “Anyone else starting to get really horny, or is that just me?”

Jason lets out an annoyed curse and screeches to a halt in an alleyway.

“Home’s four blocks down,” you try to sound normal, but whatever effects the poison has entirely set in. Instead, your voice comes out in a low purr, surprising even yourself.

“Jay?” Roy asks unsurely.

“Listen,” Jason gruffly removes his helmet, throwing it to the ground below. You watch as it clatters on the slick alley pavement and is soon followed by his holster and, lastly, his gloves. “We’re talking about this after this toxin wears off, got it?” His stern gaze stares you down, but apparently, it’s not enough. He removes your mask before nodding Roy over. “Answer me,” Jason demands cooly, pressing his thumb firmly against your bottom lip. It’s as if he’s waiting for your words to fully ravish you in your poisoned states. “Now.”

“Yessir,” you say and nod slowly, as if entranced by his touch. It’s as if your previous argument has completely slipped from your mind, no matter how hard you try to recall it.

It’s hard to think straight when all you want is Roy’s dick in your mouth and Jason’s, well, in you.

You crumble to your knees, unleashing their rigid cocks from their pants as you do. You waste no time in deep-throating their hypnotizing lengths, going between their dicks like you’re starving for it.

Truth be told, you can’t seem to get enough. You whimper, feeling your own uncomfortable itch rising uncomfortably into your lower stomach. It carries an unignorable weight that you quickly move to remedy by removing your suit.

Whatever poison you all are under seems to have taken enough of an effect to leave them completely underwater. Neither reprimand you for the full-frontal public nudity, but rather welcome it.

They descend upon your flushed, naked body like wolves devouring their prey.

You unleash the unholiest of sounds, begging incoherently for more of the soothing relief that comes with each and every touch. However, with each touch, your body only burns more.

Your cunt aches like never before, no matter how many times you rub at your clit, it’s not enough.

You squat before lewdly opening your knees to expose yourself fully. You can’t wait any longer. You shove one finger inside yourself with your thumb loyally flicking at your sensitive nub as you come face to face with their swollen, leaking cocks. 

The inescapable heat scratching at every inch of your body demands more. You feverishly wrap your hands around their lengths, trying to tease them, but the pollen wins over.

Roy’s forcibly thrusting his red-tipped dick against the corner of your mouth, while Jason’s hand snakes securely around yours. He greedily guides your slick fingers up from your pussy to grip his cock. It doesn’t take much more for him to desperately fuck into your clasped hand with shaky breaths. 

Your legs shake from the relieving rush of endorphins your lovers grant with each snap of their hips. Your jaw is tight when Roy finally comes down your throat, but it doesn’t stop him from continuing to fuck into your mouth with his softening dick. Jason seems to have played fair all he could as he forcibly shoves his cock in your mouth, too.

“Mmph!” you mutter around their overwhelming combined weight, feeling tears trickle down from your dazed, wanton eyes.

Roy’s slow with his thrusts finally, but Jason’s just getting started. Your hands close around their bases, stroking up and down their spit-covered cocks with a loose grip and a sloppy pace. Jason’s domineering grip on the back of your head forces you to take all of him you can, but it doesn’t seem to be enough. Each commandeering thrust draws wrecked, muffled moans from your fucked-out mouth.

You can’t take it anymore.

Your hands stop jacking off their pulsating members to continue relieving the inescapable, torturous throb in your cunt. You haven’t masturbated so desperately since shoving your panties in your mouth while in their bed long before you’d officially gotten together.

Your pussy is a wet mess, gushing slick onto your thick thighs with every insatiable flick of your fingers against your pulsating clit.

Time goes by inexplicably, which seems to be the only reason Roy’s normal talkative nature during sex has been silenced. The sex is purely primal, with everyone’s salacious actions driven purely by their own respective lust alone.

They both empty their come all over your face, competing with each other on who can moan louder as they aim for your open mouth. Your firm grip around their lengths coaxes and pumps every last drop you can manage.

To your surprise, they’re both immediately ready for round two. You can’t help but bite your lip in anticipation of what’s to come.

They take turns fucking into you, using your body for their pleasure while the other stifles your moans. They hide their own grunts and erotic noises through bruising marks they scatter all along your skin as if to claim you. 

You wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Literally.

Them fucking you is the most relief you’ve gotten from this whole pollen situation.

When they can’t wait their turn, they fuck their tip into you as the other continues to pump in and out of your leaking pussy. The wet sound of their dicks breaching your tight hole over and over again only spurs further want. 

Cars honk and music plays from the restaurant across the street as they pound your cunt the way you deserve.

Usually, Roy likes to take his time with positioning you so he and Jason can both watch as his cock disappears in and out of you, but not tonight. No, tonight Roy’s pussy drunk and desperate for relief.

You take load after load, with each of them taking multiple turns to fill you with their hot come. It’s as if nothing they do to you is enough with the way the itching heat of want remains trapped against your sweat-slickened skin like the most beautiful curse.

You swear you hear the familiar ‘woosh’ of a cape, but when you look up in the direction of the noise, you’re only met with the cloudy night sky.

That is, until…

“Oh,” your head snaps in the direction of the familiar voice. In the toxin’s dying haze, you’re able to make out Batman and Robin, “that’s fucking disgusting.” Robin then proceeds to fake vomit until Batman gives him his signature scowl.

“What the fuck are you guys doing here?!” Jason cries out in embarrassment, covering his junk from their view in an instant. He flips around to fully cover you from sight.

Roy, being the last one struck, is still deep in the throws of fucking you senseless. Jason forcibly pushes him off and makes him decent by pulling up his pants that have pooled at his ankles.

Luckily, they’ve already turned away to offer you all some privacy. 

“Here being a very much public alleyway, Hood?” Robin snarls, looking up at the sky while refusing to meet anyone's eyes. You shimmy up your suit, feeling a flood of sticky come spilling from you as you do. You stifle your moan, but only barely. Damn, this poison is strong. “The fuck is wrong with you three? You think it’s sane to fuck in-”

Batman cuts him off, “What’s going on? You’ve been unresponsive for three hours.”

Once you’re all decent, they turn around.

“Three hours?” you ask in disbelief. 

Suddenly, the weight of your salacious activities catch up to you. Your pussy’s never been so thoroughly fucked and it’s sure as hell never been so sore.

Hell, parts you didn’t even know could be sore are sore.

Roy tries to pull you against his erection again, but you succeed at bating him away. 

“Oracle sent us a message after all three of your signals went dark and two check-ins went unanswered on your comms.” Batman looks just as uncomfortable as you feel, you know, quite literally being caught with your pants down. “What happened?” he asks.

“Ivy,” Jason responds, staring holes into the brick wall next to him. “Her arrows were laced with some form of her sex pollen.”

Batman hums, “Is it out of your systems yet?” You and Jason blush. Roy, on the other hand, is still focused on feeling the two of you up, giving Batman the only answer he needs. “Arsenal,” he reaches into his utility belt to reveal a thin syringe, “I’m going to need you to remain still.”

You and Jason move to restrain him, dodging his tongue as he tries to lure you in for sloppy kisses. Batman uses his distracted state to inject the blue liquid into Roy’s freckled arm.

As soon as the last of the liquid empties into his veins, he shakes his head.

He rubs at his face tiredly, then moves to pat at his clothed erection. “What a fuckin’ trip,” the redhead groans. “I’m pretty sure my dick fell off.”

“I have a magnifying glass in my belt we could use to look for it, Harper,” Robin offers testily.

“Oh, look,” Roy obnoxiously grabs at the large imprint of his dick through his come-stained pants with a smirk before airily snarking back, “found it.”

Robin scrunches his nose in distaste at the sight, once again looking to the sky.

“Call us if you have any other issues,” Batman says. He and Robin don’t linger much longer before they grapple off into the night.

Once they’re gone, the three of you finally look each other over.

“Can’t even lie,” Roy sighs while slumping down the brick alley wall and into a puddle of come. “Best sex of my life, loves. So far,” he adds cheekily with a wink.

You and Jason begrudgingly meet his high five, with you snorting as you do so.

You’re hoping Jason will let you off the hook until you get home, but apparently not. No, you’re not even through the threshold of the alley when he starts.

“Why the jealousy?” he comes right out and asks.

You groan, “Pretty sure makeup sex usually happens after the argument, Jay.” Your stomach lurches uncomfortably, hating the way their eyes search yours for answers you don’t even know. “Just sayin’,” you trail off lamely. 

“Answer him, baby,” Roy lightly encourages you with a comforting hand rubbing at your waist.

It’s quiet for a moment as they allow you time to collect your thoughts.

“Now that you’re both mine,” you stare at the ground, “I just want to make sure you stay mine. Is that so bad?”

Jason sighs, “When it puts the mission at risk, yes.”

Your head shoots up, glaring at him. “Oh, but your flirting didn’t?” As much as you hate to admit it, your jealousy seems to be rearing up as the next biggest contention. 

“What fucking flirting?” Jason throws up his hands in exasperation as he says your name. “Huh? What. fucking. flirting?” 

Always one to exacerbate the situation, Jason’s irritation quickly rises to the surface before he’s able to tame it.

“We honestly weren’t, princess,” Roy quietly adds. 

You pout, crossing your arms as you turn your head to the side. You refuse to feel like you’re being ganged up on. “Oh, okay. So only Jason’s allowed to freak out about this stuff, then, right?” you ask rhetorically. Jason just shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at you like you aren’t making any sense. Roy doesn’t seem to quite follow either. “The Deadshot situation doesn’t ring a bell?” His face immediately falls before going blank and crossing his arms defensively over his chest. “No, no. It makes perfect sense,” you go on sarcastically. “So, Jason’s allowed to get jealous and insinuate that I’m some kind of fucking whore, but the second I get jealous, suddenly it’s not okay and ‘jeopardizing the mission,’” you add with exaggerated finger quotes.

Both are quiet, understanding the hypocrisy of the situation.

Maybe contention #3 isn’t just your jealousy but jealousy between the three of you in general. You recognize from their exchanged glance alone that they’ve come to the same conclusion.

“We only want you,” Jason groans your name in annoyance, as if he can’t understand why you can’t understand. 

Regardless of the reassuring words, his tone only pisses you off more.

“Oh, yeah,” you say with a roll your eyes. “Totally sounds like it when you say it like that,” you say with sarcasm dripping from your every word.

Jason’s only growing more frustrated, pacing as he runs his hands through his messy, sweaty hair. “WE’VE ONLY EVER WANTED YOU!” he finally shouts, turning to you with wide eyes. You automatically step back, not having expected the outburst. As soon as he sees it, he instantly calms himself before Roy can even try to intervene. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell,” he says quietly, suddenly unable to meet your eyes. “We love you.”

“Only you,” Roy confirms, mouth in a serious line as he gazes into your eyes.

You swallow around the ache of tears steadily building in your throat as you hesitantly walk toward him. Once you’ve closed the distance, you lift his chin with your fingers, meeting his eyes as they flicker your way. 

“Okay,” you finally concede. You hear their words and you have no reason not to believe them, but for some reason, the doubt seems to linger. 

The two of them stand there in the mouth of the alley with their hands splayed at their sides as if waiting for another blowup. It never comes. 

Instead, you sigh, “You both mean the world to me and I want to work on this with you guys.” You kick a stray rock that sits at the toe of your boot, refusing to meet their inquisitive stares. “I may need a bit of help, though.”

The tension between the three of you dissolves in an instant. 

In lieu of a response, Roy closes the distance between you and Jason. He wraps the two of you up into a bear hug, kissing you both on the lips as he does.

Jason still seems a bit stiff, which makes you feel slightly uneasy. Fuck. Have you created even more distance in your already slightly strenuous relationship?

But, no. He’s right there to give you the reassurance you need.

“We’ll all work on it,” Jason agrees. He places a guiding hand on both of your backs as he helps situate the two of you back on the bike. “Now, let’s go home.”

A/N: iiiiii am so excited to introduce the hero!oc of the ARS/CS universe to yall!! it's been building up for a while and i'm so glad it's finally here!

when i was planning ars, this plot of cardinal sins was really pushing the whole backstory arc forward in the sense that i knew i really wanted reader to be a legit hero, but i needed the backstory to be really strong to get to this point. i had a blast with ars, but cardinal sins was always the endgame

IMPORTANT: if you'd like to use cardinal in anything- lmk!! i have a tag on here and tumblr: albatmobile oc!cardinal that you can use too just be sure to give me credit pretty plss!

SPOTIFY LINK peek next chapter's song before anyone else! i add chapter songs a week early :p

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[eelclaw]

i read a light in the mist, so here are my chapter summaries. i included what-the-fuck moments, denoted (?), as well as irritating moments from the text. my final thoughts are at the bottom.

part 1: the chapter summaries

prologue: while he watches snowtuft and rootspring fight, ashfur reflects on how we got here.

chapter 1: rootspring tries to defend himself from snowtuft without hurting him. ashfur gets frustrated and sets his army on rootspring. bristlefrost jumps in, giving rootspring hope.

chapter 2: shadowsight watches bristlefrost run away to help rootspring. he sees ashfur, then shouts hurtful things at him to break his concentration over the spirit cats. the spirit cats run away, but the dark forest cats chase after them and bring them back. bristlefrost and rootspring run away, and shadowsight is attacked by ashfur.

chapter 3: while rootspring saves shadowsight from ashfur, bristlefrost saves stemleaf from mapleshade. ashfur appears and takes control of the spirit cats, but snowtuft attacks ashfur, breaking his concentration, and the spirit cats run away. bristlefrost, rootspring, and shadowsight also run away. they are joined by stemleaf and spiresight, and then by willowshine, who leads them to the barrier to starclan, where they speak to leafpool. it seems like hope can break the barrier down, but they need more cats (?). the spirit cats sense ashfur coming, so they run away. shadowsight heads for the moonpool, while bristlefrost and rootspring split up to lose ashfur.

chapter 4: rootspring is chased a little bit, then decides to find and watch ashfur (?). he finds ashfur, dark forest cats, and spirit cats at the lake. then he decides to go to the moonpool, but mapleshade intercepts him.

chapter 5: shadowsight makes it to and through the moonpool. the leaders are there, arguing over whether bramblestar is still under ashfur's influence. shadowsight lets them exposit for a while before letting them know he's standing there. he tells them what's happened, then tries persuading them to send a patrol to the dark forest.

irritating moments:

squirrelflight whirled on the skyclan leader. "you should be glad to have [bramblestar] back!" (comment: i'm not)

shadowsight blinked in surprise. how could the skyclan leader believe that bramblestar could be anything but brave and honorable?

"but i am myself now, not ashfur!" [bramblestar] exclaimed. "i've never been anything like him!"

chapter 6: bristlefrost stumbles across redwillow, maggottail, and sparrowfeather. she eavesdrops on them, but they realize she's there, chase her down, and catch her. she tries persuading them to fight ashfur.

irritating moments:

[bristlefrost] had to persuade [redwillow, maggottail, and sparrowfeather]. puffing out her fur, she tried to imagine what bramblestar would say.

chapter 7: rootspring is imprisoned by mapleshade and houndleap, and ashfur checks on him. the voice in rootspring's head tells him to say something spooky (?). ashfur is freaked out, and he leaves to check the barrier.

chapter 8: shadowsight is still arguing with the leaders. they finally agree to send a patrol, and to meet at the moonpool before dawn. the shadowclan cats go home, and lightleap is picked for the patrol.

irritating moments:

[tree] paused, his eyes traveling over the group. "what i'm asking you now is, if you don't have starclan, what are you?"

shadowsight's paws tingled. this great warrior was volunteering to risk his life for his clan. he felt a new rush of affection for [graystripe]. thunderclan was lucky to have him.

"cloverfoot can't go," [lightleap] mewed earnestly. "she's our deputy. we can't manage without her. snowbird is a great warrior, but she's nearly an elder." (comment: but graystripe is an elder)

chapter 9: bristlefrost goes to the barrier with maggottail, redwillow, and sparrowfeather. needletail is on the other side and tells them that starclan is collapsing. they make an opening big enough for needletail to get through. bristlefrost suddenly feels dizzy, and rootspring's face appears to her, telling her that ashfur is coming (?). ashfur comes to them, with the spirit cats, including stemleaf, willowshine, and spiresight, under his control.

chapter 10: rootspring is still imprisoned. the voice in rootspring's head tells him to say more spooky shit, which freaks out darkstripe. the voice reveals itself to be firestar and asks to take over rootspring's body (?). rootspring lets him, and firestar kills darkstripe, scaring off all of rootspring's guards, except silverhawk. rootspring comes back to hismelf, and he and silverhawk go to find bristlefrost.

chapter 11: ashfur makes the spirit cats attack needletail. bristlefrost attacks ashfur to break his concentration. maggottail, sparrowfeather, and redwillow join bristlefrost, but ashfur takes control of the spirit cats, so they have to run away. redwillow falls in some water and dies, then needletail calls them up into a tree. they capture berrynose, stemleaf, and willowshine, holding them in place until ashfur is out of range, freeing them. they climb out of the tree, and rootspring and silverhawk join them.

irritating moments:

"firestar's with us?" needletail was pawing the ground. "i think so," rootspring told her. needletail whisked her tail happiily. "then we've got nothing to worry about."

chapter 12: shadowsight escorts lightleap to the moonpool, but she can't let the sisters' singing into her thoughts, so shadowsight takes her place in the patrol, and they go to the dark forest.

irritating moments:

"every one of us is risking our lives," [mistystar] told them. "and our future in starclan. but if we fail, our clans will lose more. that's why they are sending us on this mission. why else would thunderclan even think of risking an elder as loved and valued as graystripe?" she dipped her head respectfully to the gray tom, and he dipped his in return. then she turned her gaze to crowfeather. "as deputy of windclan, you've proved your worth over and over again."

"you're the youngest volunteer," [mistystar] mewed. lightleap glanced at her paws self-consciously. "which means you're risking more than any of us. you have many moons as a warrior ahead of you. you may yet decide to take a mate and have kits. it isn't just your future in starclan that you are risking, but your future beside the lake."

squirrelflight lifted her muzzle. "i'll go." "no." tree lifted his muzzle. "bramblestar will never forgive us if we let you go." (comment: i do actually agree with keeping squirrelflight safe once she's escaped ashfur, but this sentence made me cringe)

chapter 13: bristlefrost, rootspring, needletail, maggottail, sparrowfeather, silverhawk, berrynose, stemleaf, and willowshine go to the starclan barrier. many starclan cats as well as juniperclaw join them. the spirit cats sense ashfur coming, but they decide to stay and just resist ashfur's control (?). someone approaches, and firestar attacks them.

chapter 14: graystripe is attacked by firestar, but each realizes who the other is, and the two patrols merge. shadowsight tries to use his connection to reach out to ashfur, but sees himself, and something in his vision attacks him.

chapter 15: bristlefrost sees shadowsight cry out and fall unconscious, but he wakes up, so the patrol keeps going. they come across a river, and bristlefrost pulls down a tree so they can cross. they stumble across ashfur talking to himself in a clearing, and darktail emerges with a horde of rogues, who attack the patrol (?).

irritating moments:

[firestar] seemed so certain and unafraid. how could [bristlefrost] give up hope when firestar was with them?

chapter 16: rootspring tells shadowsight to climb a tree and focues on the fight. he throws a rogue into the water, which is eating up the battlefield. eventually needletail and violetshine kill darktail, and the rogues flee.

chapter 17: shadowsight feels useless up in a tree, but at least the rogues are gone! the rogues are herded back into the fight by mapleshade and thistleclaw. shadowsight falls out of the tree, and a rogue attacks him, but bristlefrost saves him and tells him to run. he passes out. ashfur comes to him in his mind and tells him he's dying, and asks him to join him. shadowsight refuses, so ashfur tells him he's pathetic and nobody likes him.

chapter 18: bristlefrost sees that ashfur is about to throw shadowsight in the water. she knocks ashfur into the water and falls in with him. in her last moments, she imagines a future with rootspring.

chapter 19: with ashfur dead, the battle breaks up and the water recedes. rootspring mourns bristlefrost.

chapter 20: shadowsight wakes up from his ashfur-vision and realizes bristlefrost is missing. as the patrol heads to starclan, shadowsight spirals, but juniperclaw grounds him. leafpool tells shadowsight that his connection with starclan is gone.

irritating moments:

"do you think i'm disloyal after i've fought so hard to save the clans?" [rootspring] asked. violetshine bristled. "of course not! no one does!" murmurs of agreement spread among the others. "and yet i loved bristlefrost. rootspring's through tightened, his voice growing husky as he went on. "i tried not to love her. i knew i'd be betraying my clan. i tried reasoning with myself, but it was impossible. when we got home, i was going to join thunderclan to be with her." …mistystar looked at rootspring, her eyes glistening. "i know how much it hurts to lose a cat you love," she mewed softly. "and i would never accuse you of disloyalty. but if we allow cats from different clans to become mates and have kits, it'll undermine every clan."

chapter 21: the patrol enters starclan, and rootspring watches the patrol reunite with lost loved ones. there is an argument over who deserves to be let into starclan, and whether someone deserves a second chance if they break the warrior code, and whether the code should be changed. graystripe reveals that he was mortally wounded in the battle.

chapter 22: the patrol goes through the moonpool, reentering the living world, and tell the others what happened. graystripe finally dies.

chapter 23: the next day, shadowsight and the healers meet at the moonpool. shadowsight tells the others that he can't share with starclan, and everyone apologizes to him, even though there was no buildup to it at all.

[shadowsight] blinked at her. "but you were so angry with me for bringing ashfur back." mothwing sniffed. "i had to be angry with some cat," she mewed. "i'm sorry i was so hard on you. i was grieving for my place in riverclan and needed some cat to blame. and i suppose, in some way, you represented my worst fear- that living cats would go against their own instincts to follow the dangerous instructions of some long-dead cat."

"mothwing gets along fine without sharing with starclan." [jayfeather] turned his blind gaze on mothwing, with just a touch of apology in his expression. i suppose he's sorry for revealing her secret to a whole gathering, shadowsight mused as the thunderclan cat went on. (comment: jayfeather's relationship with mothwing changes as the plot requires, but i choose to believe that they settled their differences in oots)

chapter 24: the clans have a gathering, and bramblestar summarizes the events of the arc. there is an argument about cats from different clans becoming mates, but rootspring speaks out. many cats stay after the gathering for a vigil. spotfur, ivypool, and fernsong ask rootspring to make their lost loved ones appear. he can't, but he realizes that bristlefrost will always be with him.

had [the clans] forgotten how easily they'd turned on each other and how far they'd gone in driving out codebreakers under ashfur's command? not to mention the warriors who'd insisted that the real bramblestar was gone and that they should kill ashfur even though it risked leaving bramblestar's spirit with no body to return to. bramblestar must know this. he'd watched the clans as a ghost. rootspring felt a new rush of respect for the thunderclan leader. he was being generous with his speech.

[rootspring] forced himself to go on. "would any of you question my loyalty?" kitescratch blinked at him. "of course not." "you're one of the lights in the mist," shimmerpelt called. "and yet i was willing to leave my clan for a cat i'd fallen deeply in love with," he mewed. kitescratch stiffened, surprise rippling through his fur. around the clearing, rootspring heard gasps. "leave his clan?" "who was he in love with?" (comment: who the fuck do they think he was in a half-clan relationship with? surely not that thunderclan girl who all of the clans have teased him about liking since he was a new apprentice)

part 2: my thoughts

verdict: i hate this book

to nobody's surprise, the theme of redemption was handled poorly

most of the book consists of characters telling each other to run and running away and splitting up and being recaptured and jumping in to distract ashfur and running away again

there's the way starclan and the dark forest and the spirit world work, and how none of it is explained, but at the same time all of it is overexplained, if that make sense. the worldbuilding is just incredibly unsatisfying, like the authors pulled it out of their ass

small pet peeve, but the dark forest intensifies the cats' feelings of fear and anger, and every time they realize it and they think, "oh no... the dark forest is getting to me... but i won't let it change who i am!" and it's kind of annoying

i hate that the barrier can be broken down by thinking positively, and i hate that a patrol is sent to the dark forest, and i hate the cats that were chosen for the patrol

what does the patrol actually accomplish? i just read the book and i can't remember

lightleap's rejection is a very transparent attempt to add tension and still get our third pov character in the dark forest, but this adds nothing to lightleap's character since her plot gets dropped in asc, so this scene is stupid

speaking of putting shadowsight in the dark forest, why is he there? when ivypool, tigerheartstar, et al talked about the dark forest, shadowsight argues that the dark forest has changed since they trained there, and he should join the patrol because he is the most familiar with the dark forest in its present state

but everything he knows about the dark forest, the others can quickly figure out

instead, shadowsight spends his time in the dark forest feeling useless, since he's injured and lacks battle training, and the worst part is he's right, because he's just constantly in danger and the others keep having to protect or rescue him

also, shadowsight and ashfur have a mental connection, but it's never used in an interesting or meaningful way

and i can't take the connection seriously, because the explanation for it is basically "we're not so different, you and i", except ashfur is cartoonishly evil, and little has been done to establish their similarities

but it's not just shadowsight! none of the characters do anything! if bristlefrost had drowned herself and ashfur at the end of the last book, we wouldn't be missing out on anything. in fact, she would've saved me from 200 pages of this nonsense

tldr: sure, this book was built on shaky foundations (the abysmal pacing of the previous four books), but it didn't even try.

part 2.5: my ending

i have an alternative end in mind, but i need to establish some things first:

antagonists: ashfur doesn't have some grand scheme, he's much more of an opportunist. bramblestar is controlling and manipulative in his own right.

the connection: shadowkit has a strong connection to starclan, as shown by his prophetic dreams (which are implied to have been ashfur? we're getting rid of that). when shadowpaw is an apprenticed, ashfur co-opts this connection for his own use.

rootspring's powers: keep his ability to see ghosts, since him seeing bramblestar's ghost is pretty important to the plot. but we're getting rid of his ability to feel things through the land, since he uses it like three times, and it's not worth the bullshittery.

bristlefrost: she starts off similar to ashfur. self-absorbed, broody, obsessed with someone who doesn't return her feelings. like shadowsight, she was manipulated by ashfur, but i want her to be messy. perhaps, unlike shadowsight, she enacted ashfur's will voluntarily. enthusiastically. she was loyal to the imposter because she believed what he preached, and she didn't care who it hurt... until it hurt her family. her arc could be about learning to care about issues that don't affect her, because they affect other people.

shadowsight's warrior training: there's a few scenes where shadowsight, feeling lonely and ostracized, joins his sisters on warrior patrols. this subplot doesn't go anywhere, but i'm making full use of it. shadowsight actually learns from these excursions, and develops stronger fighting skills, which he'll use to defend himself in the dark forest.

bramblestar and squirrelflight: it feels like squirrelflight is robbed of a climactic ending. again, i agree that sending squirrelflight back into the dark forest after she escapes is a stupid risk, but since bramblestar and squirrelflight escape in book 5, we lose those stakes in book 6. so i would keep them in the dark forest for longer, they don't get to escape until the final battle.

okay! we have the ingredients, so here's how i would end tbc:

i think the final battle in the dark forest should have been shadowsight, bristlefrost, and rootspring. just the three of them, no stupid patrol. they swear to end this.

shadowsight wants to save bramblestar, since he feels guilty for killing him. what kind of healer kills? bristlefrost wants to take ashfur down for encouraging her flaws and leading her down the wrong path. i think rootspring would compliment them nicely as a neutral force. it would be nice to rescue that ghost that pestered him for a few months, but it's more important to save themselves.

so they travel through the dark forest, searching for ashfur, and i would give all three of them get moments to shine, moments to show off their skills and growth. i'm running out of steam again so i'm not going to come up with specific examples. maybe shadowsight uses his connection to track ashfur and his new training to protect his friends. rootspring's power could actually be relevant, maybe he can do something with the spirit cats in the dark forest. maybe he can free them from ashfur's control. idk. bristlefrost is shown in the books to be impulsive but quick-witted under pressure. the point is, there's potential here.

the three find ashfur and his prisoners. after a long battle, they free squirrelflight and bramblestar, and to not deviate too far from canon, bristlefrost dies killing ashfur. he tries the "we're not so different" spiel first, appealing to the character she starts off as, but she's learned and grown and she won't let him get to her. in his last moment, ashfur severs his connection, shadowsight's connection, with starclan.

rootspring and shadowsight converse with starclan before they return to the living world, and i want this to be the first hint of discontent. after everything, the starclan cats are more concerned with their precious code than with pardoning the dark forest cats who helped save them. rootspring and shadowsight argue with them, and manage to convince them that the code should be changed, and they return to the living world feeling faintly disappointed. after all, these three young adults had their lives fundamentally changed after being caught up in grudges far older than and completely unrelated to themselves.

i want an epilogue where rootspring and shadowsight sit together during a gathering, quietly watching bramblestar. they were kids the last time they saw the thunderclan leader in this place, but they're adults now. old enough to know that leaders make mistakes, like all other cats. experienced enough to recognize bramblestar's controlling tactics, to notice when he subtly demeans squirrelflight.

rootspring remembers how bramblestar's ghost followed him, demanding his help. how he couldn't sleep, eat, or train without bramblestar's voice snarling in his ear. shadowsight wonders how it took so long for thunderclan to realize there was something wrong with their leader.

now that it's over, they doubt if it was worth the price. would bristlefrost have sacrificed herself if she knew who it was for?

part 4: extra

bonus thing that pissed me off! here's every time someone mentioned being a "true warrior":

a true warrior accepted defeat and moved on. protecting their clan was more important. but ashfur had let his bitterness grow until it tainted his whole life.

how could a warrior like squirrelflight ever love a warrior like you? no wonder she chose bramblestar. he's everything you're not. he's brave and loyal. he's a true warrior in a way you could never be."

"if [snowtuft] is dead, he died a true warrior's death," [bristlefrost] murmured.

"i was with them," [shadowsight] called out as he limped from the edge of the moonpool. "i know what happened there. bramblestar and squirrelflight were true warriors! they couldn't change even if they wanted to. they would die for their clan and for each other and you know it."

"you have a chance to do something you never did in the living forest," bristlefrost pressed. "you have a chance to fight on the side of goodness and courage and loyalty. you have a last chance to be true warriors."

"if we betray starclan, we give up what it means to be true warriors." bramblestar swished his tail.

there was only one way to end this fight. the thought of it made [firestar] shudder. but he would do what he had to do. a true warrior always did- and he had never stopped being a warrior.

"don't rely on us," willowshine warned. "why not?" needletail blinked at her. "have you forgotten ashfur can control us?" willowshine mewed. berrynose's pelt ruffled self-consciously. "we'll try to fight it, but ashfur's power is strong here." "but you're true warriors," needletail insisted. "that's not enough." berrynose told her darkly.

maggottail narrowed his eyes. "why risk your place in starclan?" he mewed sourly. "i'd risk anything to save my clan," stemleaf retorted. as berrynose whisked his tail in agreement, firestar looked at maggottail. "for true warriors, the clans' future is more important than our own," he mewed.

"if you're looking for a way out of the dark forest, forget it," needletail snapped. "you won't be forgiven for what you did." "i'm not!" juniperclaw mewed quickly. "and i know. i just want to prove that i'm a true warrior despite everything. to myself and to my clan."

"i've made nothing but bad decisions. but now-" he glanced at rootspring and then bristlefrost- "i've seen what it is to be a true warrior and risk everything for others."

rootspring remembered snowtuft. the dark forest warrior had given up any future he could have in order to save living cats. didn't any cat who finally became a true warrior, no matter how long it took, deserve to be accepted?

needletail's eyes widened. "did you name her after me?" "of course after you." violetshine nudged her old friend with her nose. "my kit deserves a true warrior's name."

"we discussed with firestar and leafpool how to make the warrior code more relevant to our lives beside the lake. you will know now that starclan agreed to reorder the rules so that we know which parts of the code they value most. loyalty is at the heart of every true warrior, and a willingness to protect those weaker than themselves."

"i thought starclan believed loyalty is at the heart of a true warrior," [shimmerpelt] grunted. "what's loyal about choosing a mate from another clan?"

dovewing's tail quivered angrily. "no true warrior would even think about switching clans for a crush!"

[ktwritesstuff]

Nothing Else Matters (a Triple Frontier shifters AU) Chapter 2

Title: Nothing Else Matters Fandom: Triple Frontier Rating: Explicit Characters & Pairings: Reader x Triple Frontier Boys reverse harem style Word Count: ~2,000 Summary: Sneaking around the family cookout with Frankie in flashback.

Chapter One | Chapter Two (below cut) | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six

Chapter Two.

After Tom and his wife separated, he had you basically squatting in an unsold condo in Jacksonville.  It was humiliating.  You were approaching your mid-thirties.  You were supposed to be settling down somewhere beautiful, raising children, expanding your pack’s territory.  Instead, you were barely scraping by.

Will agreed that if Tom gave permission you could stay with him; you could start your family and he would support you until Tom got back on his feet.  Tom refused outright.  Claimed it was too complicated with Molly and the girls (you didn’t know what he had expected, taking a human mate.)  He was ashamed of his own inadequacies as a husband and a provider and he took it out on you.  It wasn’t fair, Will knew it, but he wouldn’t defy Tom.  You understood, but that didn’t keep you from resenting him.

The one nice thing about the shitty retirement community where Tom had you holed up was that in the summer, when the snowbirds flew north, you had the pool practically to yourself.  It was a rare weekend when Tom had the girls; you were celebrating with a cookout.  The boys came over to drink beers in the sun and enjoy time with the family. 

You even bought a new bikini for the occasion: blue with white flowers, cut to accentuate your curves, but still modest enough to wear around the kids.  Tess was at an age to understand just enough to blame you for her parents’ failed marriage, but you figured there was still hope for Evie.

You and Benny swam with Evie while Tess sunbathed and Tom, Will, and Frankie played a low-stakes game of Rook at one of the plastic tables on the deck.  Benny made a game of lifting Evie out of the water and launching her into the deep end of the pool.  

“Think you could do me?” you laughed, paddling towards him.

“Challenge accepted.”  

Benny squatted down to get his hands under your bum and as he lifted you out of the water you felt his fingers slip under the gusset of your bikini bottoms.  You hit the water with impressive force and made sure you were still tucked into your suit before coming back up for air.

“Again! Again!”  Evie cackled gleefully as she was doused by the splash.  

“Gotta give the people what they want,” Benny said, pulling you toward him through the water.  

This time when he reached under you, his fingers curled deep enough into your folds that it could not have been an accident.  You gasped, choking on a mouthful of water as you surfaced, kicking your feet at Benny, Evie happily joining in to drench him in the over-chlorinated water.     

“Hey, that’s enough of that,” Tom called as the water splashed over the edge of the pool.  “Come on Evie, adult swim.  Go get your sister to put more sunscreen on you.”

Benny swam toward you as Evie paddled dutifully to the edge of the pool.  

“You hear that,” he said, grabbing you by the thighs and maneuvering your legs around his minuscule waist.  “Adult swim.” 

He slipped one hand under the waistband of your bikini and pressed his nose to yours. 

“Not in front of the girls,” you pleaded, your eyes shifting to where Tess and Evie were toweling off by the pool house.  “They still think I’m their dad’s girlfriend.”

“Now why would they think a silly thing like that,” Benny said, bobbing through the water, inching closer and closer to the deep end.  

“It was Tom’s decision.”  And Tom’s word was law.  You supposed it was less painful for him to let them believe their father was unfaithful to their mother than for them to know the truth: that he was utterly unsuited to raising a family.  

“Ready?” Benny said, moving you into deeper water.  He could still stand comfortably, but even on tip-toes your head would have been under.  

“One.  Two. Three–” 

You held your breath and closed your eyes as Benny dunked both of you under.  He pressed his mouth over yours, bubbles rising from the place where your lips met, tickling your nose.  A game of underwater chicken, waiting to see who would break first.  

Benny gripped your neck hard enough to bruise; you squeezed your knees into his sides, trying to force the air out of his lungs until there was no space left between you.  Seconds passed that felt like minutes as your lungs burned.  Finally, you pushed away from him, kicking for the surface.

You came up gasping for air, and threw your hair back from your face.  Benny surfaced right after, grinning like a wolf, reminding you how little separation there was between the man and the animal.  It was all just Benny.

“I got you,” he teased, swimming toward you.  “No escape.”

You swiped a hand across the water to splash him as he cornered you against the side of the pool, putting his hands and feet on the tiled wall on either side of you. You held onto his wrists, pressing the flat of one foot into his crotch, feeling him getting hard through his swim trunks.

“This is nice,” Benny said, leaning into you.  “All of us together again.”  

“Only one missing,” you said, your eyes drifting toward Frankie, sitting alone on the deck.

Frankie had taken Santiago’s leaving hard.  First there was the drinking, then the drugs, then rehab, and then a second stint in rehab after Tom caught him freebasing in the bathroom at Louie’s Cantina.  You worried about him; he wasn’t like the others.  Frankie was a sensitive soul.

“Death from above!” Will shouted, before cannon-balling into the pool, drenching both you and Benny.

“Vengeance!” Benny cried, launching himself through the water after his brother.  You paddled back to the steps as they play-fought in the deep end, holding one another under long enough to make you nervous.  

You showered in the pool house and slathered yourself in lotion.  The smell of chlorine covered a multitude of sins, but it was murder for your sensitive nose.  You dried your hair as best you could and changed into a long knit dress.  By the time you finished, Tom and Will were fighting with the grill, calling out orders for hamburgers and hotdogs.  

It was now or never.  You slinked over to where Frankie was nursing a lukewarm beer and sat in his lap.

“Mi amor,” he sighed with a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes, setting his free hand on your knee.  “¿Come va?”

You draped one arm over his shoulder, plucking his ball-cap off his head and tossed it aside.  Frankie watched you curiously, but didn’t resist as you took his sunglasses off his face and placed them on your own head.

“Take me to bed,” you said, lifting your voice at the end of the phrase, although it hardly constituted a question.  

Frankie’s eyebrows rose to meet his hairline.  You took his beer from his hand and set it on the table beside you.           

“Yeah,” he stammered.  “Lead the way.”

You took Frankie by the hand and led him through the gate, as Tom swore and tried to smother a grease fire that had sprung up under the hotdogs.  

Inside the condo was cold and dark.  As soon as you closed the door, Frankie had his hands all over you, pawing at your breasts, sliding his hands up the slit in your dress to grope your ass, kissing your neck and exposed collarbones, knocking his glasses off your head.  They clattered onto the tile and you nudged them aside with one toe.

“Que rico.  Yo te quiero mucho, Estrellita.  Dime que quieres.  Yo te amo.”  

Frankie always reverted back to Spanish when he was riled up.  You loved it, even if you understood less than half of it.

You sighed contentedly, tipping your chin back to expose your throat to him, his beard scratching against your sunburnt skin.  You ran your fingers through his hair and reached one hand down the front of his shorts to stroke him as he nibbled and sucked at the pulse point in your neck.

“C’mon, give it to me,” you cooed.  “Want you so bad.  Need you to take care of me, baby.”

A growl rumbled in Frankie’s chest as he pressed you up against the wall right there in the entryway.  He gripped your thigh, hoisting your leg up over his hip, lifting you just enough to press his hard-on against your sex, hot and throbbing with desire.

“That’s right,” you urged.  “Right there.”

Frankie kissed you hard and slow and deep, his tongue delving past the sharpness of your teeth.  He tasted like cheap beer and corn chips.  He massaged your breasts, hips grinding into you. Your back arched and you held his face in your hands.  Frankie pulled away from you with a soft moan, resting his forehead on yours, stroking your bare arms.

“Mind if I freshen up?” he asked, nodding toward the bathroom.

“Be my guest,” you said, wetting your lips.  

You took a seat on the sofa in the main room as Frankie ducked into the bathroom down the narrow hall.  As you waited, Will came inside.  He disappeared behind the kitchen island as he stooped down, opening the fridge.  

“We have any more cheese for the burgers?” he called.  “Tom burnt the first round to hockey pucks.” 

“Should be in the drawer,” you said, trying to keep your voice even and calm.

Will stood, package of Kraft singles in hand, and looked down the hall where the light shone out from under the bathroom door and the sound of the exhaust fan running.  He turned back to you. 

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Just taking a break from the sun,” you said, hoping that would explain why you were sitting in the dark, panting with exertion, your face flushed.

You had smothered yourself in rose oil to cover the smell of heat and sex, but it didn’t matter.  Ironhead probably knew your cycle better than you did.  

“You have got to be kidding me,” Will said.  “Have you lost your damn mind?”

“I’m a big girl, Will,” you said.  “I’ll do as I please.”  

“Tom said no.”  Despite his protests, Will kept his voice low as he came around the counter from the kitchen.  You rose to meet him in the hall.

“Tom doesn’t own me,” you said.  “He seems to forget that. Maybe you have, too.”

“And maybe you’ve forgotten we have rules for a reason,” Will said, always playing the good soldier.

“Just because you’re not man enough to do it, doesn’t mean it’s not the right thing to do,” you snarled.

“Fuck you, Ginger,” Will said, slamming the door behind him on his way out.

You watched him storm away through the front window, sticking out your tongue and lifting your middle finger, catching a glimpse of your eyes flashing amber in your reflection in the glass.

Frankie came out of the bathroom smelling like mouthwash and Old Spice deodorant.  It looked like he had made an attempt to tame his curls, dampening down unruly hat hair.  The gesture softened your raging heart.  

“Hey,” he said, sensing the change in you.  “Is everything okay?”

You shook your head, snaking your arms around his waist, comforted by his warmth, the subtle softness of his belly.  

“I’m fine–a little sun sick.”

“You sure?” he asked, brushing a hand over your hair.  “You want to lay down for a bit?”

“You’re always so sweet to me,” you smiled up at him and took his face in your hands.  “I just want you to be sweet to me.”

“Okay,” Frankie said, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head.  “Let’s go to bed.”

You pulled Frankie into the bedroom with outdated wicker furniture and closed the door behind you.  You lifted your arms, prompting Frankie to pull your dress off over your head.  Your breasts were probably too big to go braless, but you did it anyway.  Your nipples pebbled in the cold air as Frankie ran his fingers across the tops of your breasts.

You sank onto the bed, sliding across the cheap polyester sheets as Frankie pulled your panties off.  You leaned back on your forearms as he knelt between your legs, pulling his sweat-stained t-shirt off over his head.  You reached for his belt, unfastening the buckle and pulling the leather strap free.  

Frankie slid his hands under you, bowing his head to kiss a trail up the sensitive skin of your stomach.

“You are so beautiful,” he said, gazing up at you reverently.  “I still can’t believe I get to be with you.”  

“Come here,” you urged.  

Frankie sat up long enough to shuck off his shorts and boxers before laying down beside you, pulling the duvet up to ensconce you in a cocoon of warmth and darkness.  

The sound of Frankie whispering sweet nothings to you went straight to your core as his fingers circled your clit, dipping inside you.  You pressed your hands into Frankie’s chest as he fondled your stomach and breasts with his other hand.  Massaging and kneading until your body felt soft and pliant as dough under his hands.    

“¿Estás lista?” 

You murmured your ascent, opening your legs for him.  Frankie pressed the head of his cock into you, moving deeper with short, careful strokes.  

You ran your hands across the muscles of his back, feeling them flex and extend as he rocked into you.  Quick and shallow at first, then long and deep.  Your body tensed as the sensation built.  You scraped your nails across Frankie’s back, letting your head fall back, your mouth falling open with a gasp.

“I’m close,” Frankie warned, his back arching like a cat’s as he moved against you.  

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded, hitching your legs over his hips to keep him inside you.  “Don’t stop, please.”

Frankie moaned and went limp, his weight dropping onto you.  Your inner walls contracted and relaxed as he came inside you, milking him for every drop of seed.  He moved to roll over, but you put your arms around him to keep him close, warming his softening cock in the heat of your arousal.

“Stay,” you sighed, running your fingers through his hair.  “Can we just stay like this for now.  Please.”

Frankie nodded and bowed his head to your breasts with a sigh as you twisted his curls around your fingers.

“Yo te amo, Francisco,” you said, kissing the top of his head as he rested against you.

“Yo te amo, querida.”

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Cardinal Sins

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/OlRs41Z by albatmobile (delsol) Living with your vigilante boyfriends for the past year has been amazing, well, almost. Butting heads, old wounds resurfacing and a deadly threat still looming overhead could threaten the sanctity of everything you've ever fought for. Will you finally overcome your tainted past and survive the trials and tribulations, or will your relationships and your faith crumble under the pressure?   Sequel to Art of Rehabilitating Snowbirds Words: 6595, Chapters: 1/13, Language: English Series: Part 2 of Rehabilitation & Repentance Fandoms: Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Young Justice - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: Multi Characters: Jason Todd, Roy Harper, Damian Wayne, Jonathan Kent, Stephanie Brown, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Kon-El | Conner Kent, Tim Drake, Lian Harper, Luke Fox, Bruce Wayne, Oliver Queen, Dinah Lance, Connor Hawke Relationships: Jason Todd/Reader, Roy Harper/Reader, Roy Harper/Jason Todd/Reader, Roy Harper/Jason Todd Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Slow Build, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Roy has a bionic arm, Hurt/Comfort, honorary batsis!reader, Found Family, Other Additional Tags to Be Added read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/OlRs41Z

[disregardandfelicity]

Snowbirds

Rating: E

Relationship: Joe/Nicky

Chapters 2/3

The mission had started straightforward enough.

Andy and Booker were using less-than-legal channels to find “some liquor in this godforsaken dry country” when they stumbled, quite by accident, upon the edges of an arms trafficking ring. While they themselves often took shortcuts to get the weapons they needed, the body count of this unchecked operation was extreme, and they couldn’t, in good conscience, look the other way.

Before their leads dried up, Andy and Booker had determined that the ring leader worked in finance and frequented a particular social club.

That was where, forged membership papers in hand, Joe and Nicky first met Frank Morris, the man now set to host them at his luxurious coastal estate.

i (mostly) finished a fic for the first time in awhile! also baby's first attempt at a multichap!

[ao3feed-hawks]

Make My Lullaby a Fairytale

make my lullaby a fairytale by Stratagem

Hawks and Fuyumi find out they're having a baby and then they quickly discover they're having twins. Pregnancy ends up being quite the adventure.

Words: 2093, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of snowbirds and the flock (hawks/fuyumi and future|2nd gen fics)

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Takami Keigo | Hawks, Todoroki Fuyumi, Todoroki Shouto, Todoroki Rei, Todoroki Natsuo, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor, Tokoyami Fumikage

Relationships: Takami Keigo | Hawks/Todoroki Fuyumi, Todoroki Fuyumi & Todoroki Shouto, Takami Keigo | Hawks & Tokoyami Fumikage

Additional Tags: Family Fluff, Family Feels, Pregnancy, todofam, Hawks and Tokoyami are Basically Siblings, twins on the way, pregnancy fluff and a bit of angst and introspection, Mostly Fluff, huwumi, Parenthood, Parental Takami Keigo | Hawks, Parental Todoroki Fuyumi

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47930380

[lesfeldickbiblestudy]

  Through the Bible with Les Feldick LESSON 2 * PART 4 * BOOK 80 DANIEL – PART II - 4 Daniel 2:1 - 4:25 Okay, good to have everybody back from your break time. We’ll get right back to where we left off in Daniel.  But again, I always like to welcome our television audience.  My goodness, I don’t want to forget that they are out there, because they are so faithful and the letters are so encouraging.  And we just praise the Lord every day. My, when we were in Florida, we had dinner after church on Sunday with a couple who were “snowbirds”. They had come out of a dead religion.  My, how excited. You just can’t image how excited people can get when they finally find the truth of the Word of God.  And to think that we’re a part of it is mind-boggling. So, that’s why we always appreciate everybody’s prayers.  Not just for us personally, but for our listening audience—that we’ll get “Lydia’s”.  And every once in a while we get a letter—I’m one of your Lydia’s—that’s what we love to hear—“whose heart the Lord opened.” They’ve listened to what we said and choose right.  Because it’s still a choice, you know. You can choose to reject it or to believe it. All right, let’s come back to where we left off in verse 26.  Is that right?  Chapter 3 verse 26, I don’t know what I’d do without my front row.  They’re the ones that kind of keep me up to par.  Daniel chapter 3 verse 26, and here we have Nebuchadnezzar, again, aghast that these three young Jewish lads have survived that heated furnace. Now, I suppose the scoffer says this is just legend.  But no, it’s not.  The God in the Old Testament did the miraculous and all for our learning.  After all, God is the same, but He’s not working in those kinds of miraculous ways. Because you see, we have the Book.  This is the miracle in itself.  That we have everything we need right here between two covers.  So all these things, as Paul said, were written for our learning.  And I think I made my point in the last half hour, that this is all a preview of the Nation of Israel going through the horrors of the Tribulation, the fires that are still coming. And I appreciate when people come up and share things with me.  I just had one of our listeners share at break time where he was witness to one of the tests of our nuclear bombs back in 1950, and how horrendous that was. Then imagine what they are now. Because see, they don’t quit.  They don’t quit improving, improving, improving.  I know. I read a book sometime back that was pretty much the life of these Ph.D.’s—young, sharp scientists out there in our laboratories working on these weapons of mass destruction. And they’re just constantly refining them. And like he said, where they had detonated, everything, the steel towers, the mock villages, and everything were totally reduced to ash.  Well, that was in 1950!  Can you imagine what they’re doing today?  So, when I speak of the Tribulation days and the earth being reduced to rubble—with over 2,000 of those now in warehouses around the world, why, they could destroy this earth twice over.  And we know it’s coming.  It’s going to have to happen, because God is yet going to bring in that glorious Kingdom, which will be like the Garden of Eden.   All right, but back to Daniel now: Daniel 3:26 “Then Nebuchadnezzar came near to the mouth of the burning furnace, and spake, and said, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego, ye servants of the most high God, (Now he’s making a little headway, isn’t he?  He’s not there yet, but he’s not referring so much to his pagan gods. But now he’s recognizing that the God of the Jews is the most high God.) come forth, and come hither.  Then Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego, came forth of the midst of the fire.” Daniel 3:27 “And the princes, governors, and captains, and the king’s counselors, being gathered together, saw these men, upon whose bodies the fire had no power, (The fire never touched them.) nor was an hair of their head singed, neither were their coats changed, nor the smell of fire had passed on them.

”  Miraculous?  Absolutely!  It just shows us, again, what our God is able to do. You know, I’m constantly aware—because you see, as I mentioned in one of our previous tapings, the most popular books the last twelve months in America, three of them in particular, sold by the millions. And all three of them were authored by atheists ridiculing the concept of God.  So, I have to come back with the opposite approach.  Our God is still the One who created this universe. And all you have to do is on a clear night, go out away from a lot of light and look at the sky.  And then remind yourself that you’re only seeing just one little particle of the whole, and God’s in control of all of it.  He can do whatever He wants with it.  And just because we’re not seeing things happen today like happened back here, doesn’t mean that God has lost His power.  He just hasn’t seen fit to use it.  But the day is coming when, yes, He’s going to intervene again in human history, and we are going to see the results of His power. All right, so here is just a good evidence of His miraculous power. That these young Jewish lads, in such a heated furnace, came out without even a hair singed.  All right, now then, ol’ Nebuchadnezzar’s starting to get the gist, isn’t he?  He’s waking up a little bit. Daniel 3:28 “Then Nebuchadnezzar spake, and said, Blessed be the God of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego, who hath sent his angel, (Now in this case, I feel it was God the Son Himself.) and delivered his servants that trusted in him, and have changed the king’s word, and yielded their bodies, that they might not serve nor worship any god, except their own God.”  In other words, they stayed true. Well you see, believers have done that in the last 2,000 years of human history—where they would rather die the martyr’s death as to give in to something false.   All right, now ol’ Nebuchadnezzar completely changes his attitude, and now he makes another decree, verse 29.   Daniel 3:29 “Therefore I make a decree, That every people, nation, and language, who speak anything amiss against the God of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego, shall be cut in pieces,...(Now he’s going the other extreme.  Now he’s going to cut up anybody that opposes it.  The foolishness of men is the only way I can put it.  And they haven’t changed all that much.)…because there is no other God that can deliver after this sort.” Well, that’s certainly true.  At least he got the message.  Now verse 30: Daniel 3:30 “Then the king promoted Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego, in the province of Babylon.”  In other words, they moved even further up the governmental ladder. And remember now, they’re still rather young lads. Now, we’ll go on into chapter 4.  Because we’re going to go through the Book of Daniel chapter and verse, and after that?  I don’t know yet. Daniel 4:1a “Nebuchadnezzar the king, unto all people, nations, and languages, that dwell in all the earth:…” Now here again, I’ve got to remind you.  How much of the earth does Nebuchadnezzar know?  Just that little sphere of the Middle East.  They have no idea of the vastness, I don’t think, of China and the islands of the sea.  They certainly know nothing of the Western Hemisphere.  They know nothing of Europe, but only of their then-known world, the present area of civilization.  Of course he was the ruling monarch, and he makes these decrees. Daniel 4:1b-2 “…who dwell in all the earth; (That is his known earth.) Peace be multiplied unto you. 2. I thought it good to show the signs and wonders that the high God hath wrought toward me.”  Now, I think it behooves us—go back with me to Genesis. Because you know, I love to compare Scripture with Scripture. So come back to Genesis chapter 14, if I’m not mistaken.  I want you to see the difference between God as He revealed Himself to Israel and God as He’s now revealing Himself to this pagan king. Because it’s the same God, but He certainly has various names and titles and so forth. Now back here in Genesis 14 we have Abram shortly after his call out of Ur of the Chaldees.

  He comes to the rescue of his nephew Lot and his fellow Sodomites.  All right, Genesis chapter 14 and they have defeated those people who overran Sodom, with Lot and fellow citizens, and now verse 17. Genesis 14:17-18 “And the king of Sodom went out to meet him after his return from the slaughter of Chedorlaomer, and of the kings that were with him, at the valley of Shaveh, which is the king’s dale.  18. And Melchizedek king of Salem brought forth bread and wine: and he was the priest of the most high God.”   Now, that’s as far as we can carry it here.   This was his title—Melchizedek was the priest of the most high God. All right, now let’s move up to Exodus chapter 6.  Now we come to the name of God that was intrinsic in God’s relationship with Israel.  So, we start out with Abram still recognizing the most high God, which, of course, is what Nebuchadnezzar is realizing. But Israel gets to the place where the name of God that is most convenient or well known to them is Jehovah.  And we find that in Exodus chapter 6 verse 3. Exodus 6:3 “And I appeared unto Abraham, (In other words, God is speaking to Moses in verse 2.) unto Isaac, and unto Jacob, by the name of God Almighty, (See, the Most High God, but now move on.) but by my name JEHOVAH was I not known to them.”  But now He is. All right, so the term Jehovah, then, becomes that name of God that Israel was most associated with.  And Jehovah is what’s used, usually, in our Old Testament.  It’s capital L, capital O, capital R, capital D.  That’s Jehovah. When Saul of Tarsus on the road to Damascus fell to his knees and cried out “Lord, what would you have me to do?”  Well, what Lord was he speaking of?  Jehovah!  That was the name that Israel was associated with and understood.  And Jehovah, again, was God the Son.  Now that’s just basic biblical understanding. That in the Old Testament, yes, the Gentile Nebuchadnezzar and Abraham, early on, understood the God of Heaven, or the Most High God.  But when it came down to a relationship between the believing Jew and that same Most High God, it was Jehovah.  It was God the Son.  It was LORD.  Follow me?  All right, see, I just had to give you that free for nothing. But, here this ol’ Gentile, pagan king as yet understands nothing more than the Most High God.  He’s come that far.  All right, back to Daniel chapter 4. Daniel 4:3 “How great are his signs! (Well, I reckon! When you can throw young men into a furnace and have them come out un-singed, I reckon that’s a sign.) and how mighty are his wonders! his kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and his dominion is from generation to generation.”  Well, that’s exactly, of course, what Daniel saw in his vision back there in chapter 2.  That this coming Kingdom ruled by God the Son is an everlasting Kingdom.  But it’s going to be a literal, earthly kingdom now, not a spiritual thing, a literal. Daniel 4:4-6a “I Nebuchadnezzar was at rest in my house, and flourishing in my palace: 5. I saw a dream (The ol’ boy is constantly dreaming, isn’t he?  And he had another one.  Now he’s got a dream that’s rather disconcerting, because it’s going to affect him personally.) which made me afraid, and the thoughts upon my bed and the visions of my head troubled me. 6. Therefore made I a decree…” He liked to use his authority, didn’t he?  You know, you’ve got to look at these world leaders.  There’s just something about them, and they haven’t changed.  When they get to the place that the whole world is looking up to them, it affects them. They get the idea that, you know, they’re something special.  They lose sight of the fact that they’re mere flesh.  This ol’ Nebuchadnezzar is a good example of world leaders. Daniel 4:6b-7 “…made I a decree (same thing as he did before) to bring in all the wise men of Babylon before me, that they might make known unto me the interpretation of the dream. 7. Then came in the magicians, the astrologers, the Chaldeans, and the soothsayers: and I (Nebuchadnezzar) told the dream before them; but they did not make known unto me the interpretation thereof.

”  But here comes Daniel to the rescue, verse 8. Daniel 4:8a “But at the last Daniel came in before me, whose name was Belteshazzar, according to the name of my god, (In other words, that’s why he renamed him.) and in whom is the spirit of the holy gods:…” See, now there again, ol’ Nebuchadnezzar still hasn’t got it all straight.  He recognizes there’s a Most High God, but he’s still going to hang onto his own pagan gods.  But, verse 9: Daniel 4:9 “O Belteshazzar, master of the magicians, because I know that the spirit of the holy gods is in thee, and no secret troubleth thee, tell me the visions of my dream that I have seen, and the interpretation thereof.”  Now I’m going to bring you on.  No, I guess I’m close enough.  I’ll keep going—verse 10.  I didn’t want to spend a lot of time just reading, but sometimes you have to. Daniel 4:10 “Thus were the visions of mine head in my bed; I saw, and behold a tree in the midst of the earth, and the height thereof was great.”  Now you know, it’s rather interesting. What’s one of the first things we learn in Genesis?  The tree.  Which one?  The tree of life. And the tree of life is, of course, intrinsic to all of Scripture. And it will appear again in Revelation chapter 22.  So, it’s interesting, when you look at the human race, how they take things that began in Genesis or maybe in the Garden or even shortly after, and, in fact, all the way up to the Flood.  They can take those things that were ordained of God, and they have completely adulterated and polluted it. Now, one thing I’m referring to is the horoscope.  Now the horoscope was well-known by the Adamic Race long before the Flood.  They understood the movements of the constellations. It was actually the Word of God in the stars.  And they were able to interpret it.  But, what did mankind, under Satan’s instigation, do?  They polluted it.  They adulterated it, so that now the study of the stars is usually Satanic and demonic. All right, now the same way with the image of a tree.  We already saw an instance of it back here in chapter 3.  What’d they make an image like unto? A tree.  So the tree becomes a polluted thing of that which was so holy and so perfect.  So, just kind of watch for these things as you study Scripture.   All right, now in this dream he sees a tree. Where was I?  Verse 11. Daniel 4:11-12a “The tree grew, and was strong, and the height thereof reached unto heaven, and the sight thereof to the end of all the earth: 12. The leaves thereof were fair, and the fruit thereof much, and in it was food for all: the beasts of the field had shadow under it, and the fowls of the heaven dwelt in the boughs…” and so on and so forth.  What’s he seeing a picture of?  Himself.  His own sovereignty, and how he was in the place of providing for his, today we’d call them the electorate, I guess, but his subjects.   And he was responsible for their welfare.  All right, when he was a benevolent king, he could do that.  All right, verse 13: Daniel 4:13-15a “I saw in the visions of my head upon my bed, and, behold, a watcher (an angel) and an holy one came down from heaven; 14. He cried aloud, and said thus, Hew down the tree, (In the dream, now, he sees this huge beautiful tree with all of its provisions, not only for humans, but also for the animals and the birds and everything, and the angel says--) Cut down the tree, and cut off his branches, shake off his leaves, and scatter his fruit: let the beasts get away from under it, and the fowls from his branches: 15. Nevertheless leave the stump of his roots in the earth, even with a band of iron and brass,…” Now, what should that immediately send you back to?  The first image of gold, silver, brass, iron.  In other words, there’s going to be following empires that will still preserve much of what ol’ Nebuchadnezzar began.  In fact, I’ve taught it here on the program over the years.  Every one of these empires left certain attributes that are in the world today.  Nebuchadnezzar and the Babylonian Empire were the beginning of what we call the banking system.

  Not like it is today, but anyway, the banking system had its origin in ol’ Nebuchadnezzar. All right, now what’s also going to be involved here?  He’s going to have certain residue of the Roman Empire, the iron, that’s going to carry on, and the brass which was the Medes and Persians.  All these attributes are still going to be evident, starting with the stump that is Nebuchadnezzar.  All right, now let’s move on. Daniel 4:15b “…and let it be wet with the dew of heaven, and let his portion be with the beasts in the grass of the earth:” In other words, Nebuchadnezzar, like this tree, is going to be cut down to the earth.  Now verse 16, now remember, this is still the miraculous God that saved the little Jewish boys in the fiery furnace.  This same God is going to bring this about in the life of ol’ king Nebuchadnezzar. Daniel 4:16 “Let his heart be changed from man’s, and let a beast’s (or an animal’s) heart be given unto him; and let seven times (or seven years) pass over him.”  So what happened?  He lives like an animal for seven years. Daniel 4:17a “This matter is by the decree of the watchers, (angels who have intervened) and the demand by the word of the holy ones: to the intent that the living may know that the most High (See, here we come back to that title of God again.) ruleth in the kingdom of men, and giveth it to whomsoever he will,…” Now we’ve got to always be aware of that.  As much as we love our democratic form of government and our liberties and all these things, yet we also have to know that the God of all has His thumb on everything. All right, this is what we’re to learn from the Old Testament.  Five minutes left?  All right, verse 18: Daniel 4:18 “This dream I king Nebuchadnezzar have seen. Now thou, O Belteshazzar, (Remember, that’s the other name for Daniel.) declare the interpretation thereof, forasmuch as all the wise men of my kingdom are not able to make known unto me the interpretation: but thou art able; for the spirit of the holy gods (See, he’s still got that pagan mentality.) is in thee.” All right, I hope we’ve got time to go through this interpretation.  Then we’ll be ready to move on in our next taping.  Verse 19: Daniel 4:19-21a “Then Daniel, whose name was Belteshazzar, was astonished for one hour, and his thoughts troubled him.  The king spake, and said, Belteshazzar, let not the dream, or the interpretation thereof, trouble thee. Belteshazzar (Daniel) answered and said, My lord, the dream be to them that hate thee, and the interpretation thereof to thine enemies. 20. The tree that thou sawest, which grew, and was strong, whose height reached unto the heaven, (In other words, was well up into the air.) and the sight thereof to all the earth; 21. Whose leaves were fair, and the fruit thereof much,…”  In other words, it was a beautiful tree, productive in every area. Daniel 4:21b-22 “…and  in it was food for all; under which the beasts of the field dwelt, and upon whose branches the fowls of the heaven had their habitation: (That was the picture of his kingdom.) 22. It is thou, O king, that art grown and become strong: for thy greatness is grown, and reacheth unto heaven, and thy dominion to the end of the earth.”  In other words, he controlled the then-known world. Daniel 4:23 “And whereas the king saw a watcher (an angel) and an holy one coming down from heaven, and saying, Hew (or cut) the tree down, and destroy it; yet leave the stump of the roots thereof in the earth, even with a band of iron and brass, (We’ve already explained.) in the tender grass of the field; and let it be wet with the dew of heaven, and let his portion be with the beasts of the field, till seven times (or seven years) pass over him;” Now verse 24: Daniel 4:24-25 “This is the interpretation, O king, and this is the decree of the most High, which is come upon my lord the king: (In other words, speaking through Daniel.) 25. That they shall drive thee from the men, and thy dwelling shall be with the beasts of the field,

and they shall make thee to eat grass as oxen, and they shall wet thee with the dew of heaven, and seven times shall pass over thee, til thou know(Now here it is.  Here’s the whole crux of the matter.) til thou know that the most High ruleth in the kingdom of men, and giveth it to whomsoever he will.” In other words, why did Nebuchadnezzar get to the place that he got?  Because of God.  Why will he become like an animal of the field?  Because of God.  It’s going to be restored as we go on, but I haven’t got time today.  But it’s all in the hands of a Sovereign God.  And the world can’t comprehend that.  The world thinks they are running it their own way.  No they’re not! You know, I’ve said on this program for all these years (man, I can’t believe it’ll soon be 19 years).  I’ve said it over and over, when God sent the whole ball of wax rolling back there in Genesis chapter 1 and instituted time, and here we are 6,000 years later and everything that has happened in 6,000 years was by His design.  Everything!  Nothing was by accident. And now here we are approaching the end-time, and everything is coming together so fast.  I feel this whole financial thing is no more than setting the stage for a global world system.  A global banking system!  I wouldn’t be surprised that in another year we’ll probably have a new currency.  Wouldn’t surprise me a bit, but I hope not.  But, it could very well happen.  Why?  Because in God’s design, it has to come.  By the time the anti-Christ makes his appearance, the world has to be ready for a world government and a world currency and a world religion.  And, oh, all the forces are working so frantically to bring their religions of the world into one. Now, I remember reading about the ecumenical movement when I was a teenager. And it scared the socks off of me, because the writers back then used to make it so stringent that there would be so much pressure from all the big major religious systems of the world to bring everybody under the umbrella, and if not, your head would go.  Well, it’s coming.  And we can see that it’s coming.  And all according to God’s plan.  Every bit of it is according to His blueprint.  And like I’ve said over and over, is He ever a day late?  Not one hour.  Everything is right on schedule. So anyway, we’re going to leave it here.  Time is gone. Nebuchadnezzar now is going to go out and live like an animal for seven years, so that he’ll come to his senses and realize that the God of Daniel is the God of Creation!

[ao3feed-todoroki]

Make My Lullaby a Fairytale

make my lullaby a fairytale by Stratagem

Hawks and Fuyumi find out they're having a baby and then they quickly discover they're having twins. Pregnancy ends up being quite the adventure.

Words: 2093, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of snowbirds and the flock (hawks/fuyumi and future|2nd gen fics)

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Takami Keigo | Hawks, Todoroki Fuyumi, Todoroki Shouto, Todoroki Rei, Todoroki Natsuo, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor, Tokoyami Fumikage

Relationships: Takami Keigo | Hawks/Todoroki Fuyumi, Todoroki Fuyumi & Todoroki Shouto, Takami Keigo | Hawks & Tokoyami Fumikage

Additional Tags: Family Fluff, Family Feels, Pregnancy, todofam, Hawks and Tokoyami are Basically Siblings, twins on the way, pregnancy fluff and a bit of angst and introspection, Mostly Fluff, huwumi, Parenthood, Parental Takami Keigo | Hawks, Parental Todoroki Fuyumi

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47930380

[upwardwrites]

——— Hello, writeblr!

🪶 Call me Upward. I’m ancient by tumblr standards : I made my main blog (unsurprisingly named @upward - where my likes/follows come from!) in 2008.

🪶 I’m in my mid-thirties, based in the US and use she/her pronouns.

🪶 I spend a lot of time with words. As a Creative Director with a background in Copywriting, my day is spent making sure words, images and emotion play nice. Even when I’m not working on my novel or short stories.

🪶 My Copywriting experience has given me great tools for my own work, but one of my passions is helping others write and edit more effectively too!

🪶 I’m lousy with grammar though. Can’t use a comma properly to save my life, according to countless proofreaders.

🪶 I’m also a photographer! And I collect hobbies. Learning things makes my brain happy even if I don’t stick with it.

🪶 Mostly speculative fiction, sci-fi, fantasy, horror. Appalachian settings and themes play enormous roles in my work as do my characters’ relationships with the setting.

🪶 avatar art is not mine, credit is here!

🪶 Primary WIP: The Butcher Bird

(This sounds like a shitty movie voiceover I KNOW IM SORRY)

For as long as anyone could remember, most humans looked skyward for extraterrestrial arrival. Even if they had looked in the right place, it wouldn’t have saved them. Several years after the collapse of civilization, an event known as the Landing, only a small percentage of the human population remains, learning to survive in communities cut off from technology and the rest of the world. Sadie Barton returns to the Smoky Mountains, in many ways the same unruly girl who left her daddy’s house on the lake the day she turned eighteen. But years of service in a secretive militia left deep marks, the most recent of which brings her to the struggling community of Snowbird and some old friends. Despite a brutal start to another hard winter, it’s a chance to right some wrongs, find a purpose and finally come home. Except the trees across the hills and in the hollers are lighting up with more strange runes, making it much harder for her to disappear.

I’ve had this story in my head for more than ten years, but didn’t start actively writing it until Autumn of 2021. I’m nearing the end of my first draft but I keep learning new things, meeting interesting characters and messing with what I’ve already written. Good chance it’s well over 150k words with “deleted scenes” or pieces I haven’t been able to place yet. Likely a duology and it sets up a fun universe to play in!

🪶 Additional WIPs: UPDATED 7/17

1. Unnamed Appalachian Horror Project

Co-writing an Appalachian horror anthology with a friend. Short stories that intersect. Inspired by a card from the game Inscryption.

2. Unnamed Web Series

Another joint venture that will hopefully become a web series! A slice of life comedy that explores what happens when residents of a rural mountain community have problems with their HOA (and each other).

A smattering of short stories neglected for years and years. More suspended and unfinished than in progress. But they’re there!

🪶 Etc etc: Why and What else?

I’m not really comfortable peppering most people with details about my project. I’m keeping it close (why you won’t find things like full chapters here either) and surprisingly shy about letting anyone read my work.

But I’m desperate to talk about it! What I’m learning, changes I’m making, ideas I get. What my OCs are like.

Even though I’ve been writing since I could hold a pencil (I still remember my first short story from first grade) and people even pay me to write, I have no idea how to write good novel-length fiction. I have so much to learn. I get stuck frequently. I lose focus. I battle a lot of burn out.

I try to write at least 400 words a day unless I’m having a tough burn-out day, so that’s my primary writing goal. My next one? Finish this rough draft by June 30 of 2022.

So bring on the questions and the prompts and the ideas. I’d love to read your work and ask you more about it, too!

[organised-disaster]

Okay I'm working on snowbird chapter 2

I hope people actually read it considering seven of them voted for me to keep writing it when I asked them

[albatmobile]

The Art of Rehabilitating Snowbirds Chapter 2

𓅪 Navigating the present is hard when your past refuses to die. 

𓅪 After not hearing from Roy or Jason for five years, you suddenly find yourself taking in extra income as a babysitter for Roy and Jason's child.

𓅪 Rated: M | 9.8k fem!Reader x Jason Todd x Roy Harper [masterlist]

Chapter Two: The Wilder Mile | ao3 - wattpad

THEN

Being new (and poor) didn’t help your situation. You figured this out early on.

Somehow, you could all be wearing the same prissy uniforms, but these rich kids could sniff out that you didn’t belong.  

Because of this, you spent your first day of freshman year at Gotham Academy with your head down. You only briefly stopped to chat with your locker neighbor, a raven-haired sophomore, about who you knew in common from your old school. 

As it turned out, you both had the misfortune of knowing Bart Allen. You had smiled when he said that but didn’t linger much longer as you needed to get to class.

It had gotten out by your second day that you were there on scholarship from Star City, “which makes so much more sense, poor thing!" and, “I knew she didn’t belong.” You heard the whispers in each hall you passed, heard the laughter during each period you attended. Not even in the fucking bathroom, were you safe from the gossip mill. 

By your third day, you'd made peace with the fact that you’d be a leper for the rest of your four years. No, really, you were fine with it. 

Nothing you weren’t used to at home anyway.

You sighed and snuck to the back corner of the library to eat lunch. 

You’d found the spot whilst roaming around in between class periods. Once you’d seen no one go near it, you decided to hunker down and make it your new hideaway, hoping the other students would leave you the fuck alone.

Every now and then, you’d feel a certain scratching feeling on the back of your neck. It was almost as if someone were watching you, but you highly doubted it. The towering bookcases surrounding you did a pretty decent job of concealing you. 

You chalked it up to still being paranoid on account of your shit first days at the academy because each time you looked around, all you saw were books.

In the days following, you’d try to talk with your locker neighbor more but ultimately didn’t want to make him feel like he had to talk to you. The number of times you bumped into each other at your lockers was uncanny, but he didn’t have to force himself to talk to you every time. 

Ah, yes. The burden of anxiety.

“What’s your name?” the raven asked you on Thursday of your first week. You told him. “Star City, right?” You nodded, retrieving your books silently, giving him the chance to dismiss you, but he prodded on. Did he actually want to talk to you? Maybe he was the weird one- not you. Or maybe he didn’t actually hate you like everyone else apparently did? “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, flashing you his abashed blue eyes, “I never introduced myself and I keep pestering you.” 

Damn, should you be asking him about more stuff in return, then? 

In your reclusive state at Gotham Academy, you'd somewhat forgotten what normal, friendly (emphasis on friendly)conversations were like. Ultimately, you'd come to the assumption that no one wanted to talk to you, so it was best just to keep quiet and to yourself.

“You’re good.” You gave him an awkward double thumbs up. Damn, that was fucking lame. You cursed yourself internally. The first person who actually wanted to talk to you was, you noted with a slight blush, hot as fuck, and here you were, screwing it all up. “Do you play any games?” 

You can't help but cringe. What the fuck was wrong with you? Yes, you should be asking questions, but you didn't need him to know you were a loser this early on.

Instead of looking at you weirdly, the sophomore just nodded excitedly, “For sure. We should game together sometime.” The bell rang soon after and you instantly realized his proposition to be an empty invitation. He shut his locker and stuck his bony, pale hand out to you. “I’m Tim, by the way.”

“Cool.” You nodded, losing yourself in the depths of his hypnotizing blue eyes. “I’ll see you around, I guess,” you said as you motioned around both of your lockers, lamely referencing the fact you’d see him next period to switch out books just like always.

“For sure.”

You stared after his retreating form and sighed, leaning your back against your locker to shut it, “Can I just have one normal interaction for once?”

“Do you talk to yourself a lot?” 

You startled, turning immediately to the source of a new male voice. 

Your eyes traveled up the form of the skinny, short kid standing next to your locker. His neatly combed ink-black hair contrasted starkly against his tanned skin.

He squinted at you, seeming to recognize you were acknowledging his lackluster stature with distaste.

You blushed at having been caught and hugged your books closer to your chest as if they would somehow help conceal your embarrassment. “No,” you spat out too quickly to be believable. 

“Loon,” he responded boredly, continuing to block your path. 

You squinted at him. “What do you want?” You attempted to step around him, but he swiftly stepped in front of you again, causing you to huff and back up. “If you want lunch money or some shit, you picked the wrong girl.” 

At Star City, sure, people had picked on you, but it was nothing ever violent. This kid, though? This kid looked like the definition of violence. 

This time, instead of waiting for his response, you spun on your heel and went, what you realized too late was, in the opposite direction of where you actually needed to go. At least, you thought… You were still very much in the process of figuring out the layout of this giant, castle-like school. Hogwarts and those moving stairs had nothing on Gotham Academy's labyrinth-like hallways. 

You heard his light footfall gaining behind you and wondered worriedly if the dude really was going to give you trouble. 

“You’re going the wrong way,” he said tonelessly after you’d rounded your third random corner.

What the fuck was his problem? 

“Yeah,” you said shortly, “some little twerp was blocking my way.” 

“Hey!” he hissed before mumbling something under his breath. "You're the little one here, dumbass."

You quickly spun around to face him. 

From this close, you could see the annoyance trickling out from his deep honeyed eyes. You hadn't been able to see the extent of their color by your locker, but near the huge glass window you were both facing, you could clearly see the intricate layers of yellow and green hidden within their depths.

You snapped yourself out of it. 

Now was not the time to be checking this creep out. 

Before he could say anything else, you continued straight from where you’d been heading, hoping you might end up circling back around to your locker. As the environment around you continued to look completely unfamiliar, you began to doubt your logic completely. 

At this point, you were totally lost.

The kid appeared noiselessly behind you to grab your lower arm with a sure, strong grip. 

You glanced up at him uneasily and your eyes danced with his in some sort of weird battle. With how young he looked, he had to be a freshman like you, though his strength was something someone way out of high school might have. 

Definitely weird. 

You weren’t going to go cross-eyed over this kid and he could tell. He was the one who ended up breaking the silence. “You’re going to art, aren’t you?” It didn’t seem like a question, but you nodded anyway, already wanting this interaction to be over and done with. “Follow me.” 

You sat there for a few seconds as your indecisiveness kicked in.

Stay lost or follow the kid psychopath?

You begrudgingly went with the latter, noting again just how young he looked. 

No matter how young he was, the fact still stood that the kid was aggressive and cryptic- something you didn't appreciate in the slightest. You supposed it should be reassuring he knew the way but, if anything, the kid put you on edge.

“I didn’t know they had a middle school here, too,” you jested as payback for his odd, if not hostile, introduction. 

“That’s a horrible insult,” he said matter-of-factly, not missing a beat while glancing at you out of the corner of his eyes. “There’s also an elementary where you should clearly be right now,” the kid sighed as if unimpressed with your attempt to sass him.

"Please," you continued on, waving him off unperturbed, “my tits would say college, easy.” 

You'd been expecting an eye roll or some kind of 'as if' comment, but, instead, his cheeks stained dark red against his dark skin. He soon looked anywhere but at you. You clearly weren’t ready for that reaction as you quickly followed suit, turning your gaze to the polished granite floor below. 

With one more turned corner, you finally started to recognize the art wing hallway. “There’s a restroom over there, too, just so you know,” he pointed at a wooden, unmarked door as he broke the awkward silence once again.

“Okay,” you replied blankly at his random advice. 

He seemed as sheepish as his RBF would let him as the two of you closed in on your classroom. 

He instinctively held the door open for you, something you noted gratefully, though surprised nonetheless. You nodded to him, making brief eye contact again when you walked past. 

As soon as you entered the room, the pre-period chatter dulled. 

It was a phenomenon you'd become accustomed to at Gotham Academy, though your stomach still clenched subconsciously at the unwarranted attention. As much as you hated to admit how much it affected you, it was hard to have everyone in the school judge you like this without ever talking to you. 

You wouldn’t blame the brooding asshole sitting next to you for not liking you after you'd insulted him, but everyone else? They could all straight fuck off. 

You brushed off the silence as you sat down at the only empty table left, figuring this was better than the harsh insults and accusations you'd been getting. 

The stool beside you scraped horrifically against the cement floor as the creepy kid from earlier took a seat next to you. 

You gave him a confused glance, but he merely pulled out his phone and began tapping away at it. In response, you faced forward to stare down at your empty sketchbook. 

“I heard she’s not even smart,” one girl said. You look up hesitantly to see her sneering at you with morbid glee. 

Oh, great, you thought. Here comes the usual shit.

Just one day. Was it too much to ask for just one day of peace?

“I hear she gave a bunch of blowjobs to get that scholarship,” another kid said. 

The kid next to you shifted in his seat, but you didn’t bother to see if he was glaring at you or not. He’d surely heard the ruckus by now; how could he not?

“Her? No way. Who would want… that?” Soon, the entire table and the one next to them were chiming in.

“God, I bet she stinks. Talk about a fucking charity case,” a blonde loudly exclaimed.

“What a whore.” 

“She's literally a slut!” 

Everyone at the tables flanking yours had joined in at that point, adding to the cacophony of slander. 

You weren't surprised but disheartened to hear the name-calling and rumors getting so aggressive. You still didn't understand what you’d done to make these people talk about you in such a way. 

After all, how could you help being poor? 

The tanned kid beside you seemed to agree with your internal train of thought. When you finally bothered to look over at him, you saw him sneering at the other tables.

“Elliot,” he barked in a way that made you lean away from him. His tone demanded attention and everyone was quick to oblige. “You have no right to talk after the 8th grade graduation party this past May.” 

People around the classroom quietly giggled and 'ooo'ed.'

The corners of her mouth instantly dropped at the dig. She gaped at him while her friends, who, in turn, glared at you. 

“Big mistake, newbie.” 

You were pretty sure her last name was Elliot, not her first, but then again, you knew nothing about Gotham after spending your entire life in Star City. 

“But I didn’t say shit!” you exclaimed helplessly.

It didn’t matter anyway. 

You hesitantly looked up again to see the entire group still sneering in your direction. 

There was a sudden bang and your table shook in its wake.

“You’re a pathetic waste of space.” The kid stood up so abruptly he knocked over his metal stool, leaving it to crash and clank to the ground below. “All you’re good for is spewing slander, you annoying-ass cretin!”

Your eyes widened at the commotion he was causing on your behalf. 

Why was he sticking up for you like this?

The teacher appeared out of nowhere, effectively shutting the class up as he finally started the lesson. 

About fucking time, you thought to yourself.

“Damian, sit down,” your teacher said exasperatedly. 

The tanned kid, no, Damian, you corrected yourself, muttered to himself. 

He picked up his seat and aggressively dropped it upright to stand again. The stool screeched obnoxiously as he situated himself with all eyes in the class on him. Most, you noted, looked fearful, while others looked downright offended at his presence.

The gossip continued, albeit in hushed whispers, as the teacher reviewed basic watercolor techniques, something you were already good at. 

You zoned out the lesson, only to be brought back into the moment by Damian's huffs of frustration. 

Damian, you’d noticed from the corner of your eye, kept peeking over at you occasionally, squinting calculatingly, then would slump as he went back to his canvas. That was how it continued until the bell rang to release you to next period.

“Those inbred, trust fund fucks don’t know what they’re talking about,” it was all Damian said about the incident as you both left the art room. 

You laughed at his savageness, "Thanks." You thought you were odd? This kid was way up there with you. 

“Are you headed to the library to eat?” he asked nonchalantly. 

You raised an eyebrow at him and he blushed in response, completely avoiding eye contact with you. “Uh, yeah,” you hesitated, “I hadn’t realized my lunch spot had been spotted, I guess,” you said, rubbing at the back of your head. 

You felt completely off guard, knowing that someone had been watching you. No, not someone; Damian had been watching you. 

He looked at you expectantly, but you were unsure as to why. Wouldn't a kid like him have friends already? It's not like he'd be waiting on an invitation to lunch with you. Not like anyone would, for that matter, you thought bitterly.

You continued back to the hallway where you’d met an hour ago and tried to part ways once again. 

“See you in class,” you said, going to dial your locker code and grab your lunch.

You added your copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray to the growing pile of supplies in your arms before finally making off toward the library. You wouldn't need anyone's help finding the way, considering you’d already memorized the way... Or so you thought.

You felt Damian’s presence behind you the whole way. You only acknowledged him by thanking him when he’d grabbed some falling textbooks of yours and when he corrected you on which turn to take. 

What a fucking creep.

You settled into your hidden lounge area with your newfound friend(?) in complete silence. 

He single-handedly slipped your heavy textbooks onto the table in front of you with inhumane ease, reminding you of his strong grip on your arm from earlier. He looked at you with an intensity you were beginning to realize was natural for him as you bit into your sandwich. 

“What?” you asked around a mouth full. 

He simply tsk’d at your comically stuffed cheeks and began meticulously setting out the compartments of his bento box, then his napkin, then utensils on top, then another napkin to set on his lap. 

You rolled your eyes at the cumbersome display before cracking your book open to where you’d last left off.

It was a sad book. One that made your stomach twist in the morbid realization of what true darkness lies within everyone. The dark and the light. The kind and cruel. There was balance and consequence. You’d realized Dorian’s plights against himself are what ultimately caused his undoing and, subsequently, the desecration of who he once was. 

“Are you on an internal nerd rant or something?”

You immediately snapped out of your conclusion. You bit off another bite testily. “At least I’m old enough to read chapter books.”

“I do not look that young,” he exclaimed with a hint of exasperation. 

You shrugged and held up your book. “Maybe not, Damian Gray.” You wiggled the cover at him condescendingly, much to his chagrin.

“You're a nerd.” Whatever you’d said, it was enough for him to finally be comfortable enough to start eating. You wouldn’t pry. “Besides reading basic literature and being a watercolor Van Gogh, what do you do.”

“Did he even do watercolors?” you questioned his odd logic.

“No, I don’t think he did them,” he said while rolling his eyes. “He used them in over a hundred paintings.” 

“So, you like art then?” you asked, half-interested, mostly trying to get back to your book. 

“Sure.” It seemed like an understatement, but you waited for him to continue. “I’m not very good at it, though.” 

You tried to think back to class earlier, realizing you hadn’t been paying attention to his work as you'd been more occupied with keeping your head down. 

“Anyone can do anything,” you said with a tiny shrug. He nodded appreciatively at that and dug into his lunch with more gusto. From there, you sat in companionable silence up until the lunch bell rang. “See you around, Damian,” you began picking up your things and collected both of your trash.

Normally, you wouldn’t do this, but after he'd stuck up for you earlier, you wanted to show him in some small way you were appreciative. 

“Would you want to show me watercolors after school?”

You turned around to see a somewhat shy, no, uncertain, looking Damian. You shifted around your books to look at him at his odd request. “Uh, sure.”

You felt a bit anxious being social outside of school for who knows how many hours. Especially with this kid you really didn’t even know. Sure, you’d spent less than an hour with him at lunch and it had been fine, but your social anxiety, coupled with being a social outcast at school, made you extra wary of students here. However, you begrudgingly reminded yourself that you shouldn’t be turning down friends.

That was for sure. 

“I remember your locker from earlier.” You smiled at that. “It’s right by Tim’s,” he clarified, somewhat embarrassed.

 “Oh, yeah!” you said with a nod as the two of you walked out of the library doors and into the bustling hallway. “He was the first person to talk to me.” You winced as soon as the words came out of your mouth, not knowing if you should’ve revealed that kind of information. 

Hell, Damian had seen just how bad it could get in art earlier, so who really cared?

He merely glanced at you out of the corner of his sharp eyes, revealing no hint of emotion beneath them. Creepy. “Tim will walk home with us,” he said. “Probably bringing his annoying friend Brown, too.” 

“That’s a weird name.” It reminded you of shit.

“It’s because she’s shitty,” he said simply as if it were obvious.  

You laughed at him having practically read your unspoken thoughts. “I’m sure as long as she’s not like the girls in our art class, she shouldn’t be too shitty.” 

He smiled at you, leaving you to blush a bit at his odd, somewhat off-putting charm. 

“You may be right,” he said your name. “I’ll meet you by your locker. Try to find a good piece of literature in the meantime.” 

You gawked at him, leaving him enough time to exit before you could formulate a response, “Hey!” you yelled after his retreating form, earning you multiple dirty glares in the hallway. You sighed and shrugged to yourself as you headed off to your final classes, nothing you weren’t used to at this point. 

At least it was looking somewhat up?

•

True to his word, Damian met you by your locker, but not before Tim.

You greeted him kindly as you opened your locker to deposit your books and take home the workbook you would need for water coloring with Damian. Out of nowhere, a blonde girl appeared beside him and began blatantly sizing you up. 

“Brown, right?” You smiled as you reached your hand out to shake hers.

She snorted, pointing to Damian, who'd silently snuck up from behind, startling you somewhat more than you’d care to admit. “You’ve been hanging around little bird too long, huh?” 

“Hardly,” you both said at the same time in completely different tones. Damian’s annoyed, yours dismissive.

Tim and Stephanie exchanged an amused glance. 

She winked at you and nudged your shoulder as you fell into step with them. “It’s Stephanie, by the way.” 

“I was completely off,” you laughed sheepishly, but you were glad that she seemed to warm up to you so quickly. “So, you guys are sophomores, right?” you asked as the group exited through the main doors and into the affluent courtyard entrance. 

“Hells yeah.” Stephanie nodded from in front of you. “Worst year EVER! Tim already knows that, though, dontcha?” She turned to the raven-haired man and urged him to reply by poking at him until he finally shook off her pestering. 

“What does that mean?” You tried to keep the conversation going. You already felt intrusive tagging along; the last thing you wanted was for it to be awkward, too.

“Technically yes, technically no,” Tim replied modestly, finally giving in to Stephanie’s little pokes, “I’m in all junior classes right now, but, yes, I’m almost 16.” 

“We get it, Drake,” Damian had his arms crossed as he walked behind him, next to you. You were starting to notice his habit of calling people by their last names, “you’re a lame nerd, and so is she.” He threw a thumb your way, which you quietly protested. “Can we all shut up about it now?”

You’d already seen Damian get hostile in art, but you were starting to see a habit. 

“Jeez, Dami.” Tim turned around to ruffle Damian’s dark, perfectly placed hair. “I’m sure she’s not,” Tim said, smiling at you. In that moment, you swore you saw Damian’s eyes flash red. 

You didn't know much about your new friend, but you knew enough to know this wasn’t going to end well. 

“Fuck you, Timothy.” His voice turned ice cold as he pushed at Tim’s slender back with an unreasonable force. Tim didn’t seem phased in the slightest, yet again, by Damian’s aggressive nature. Instead, he shoo'ed him off like an incessant bug. 

It made you chuckle a bit. 

Their bickering raged on and you quickly realized, after passing the main streets, that you were headed deeper into Bristol where the super-rich lived. 

What the fuck had you gotten yourself into? Yes, you should have realized that they probably lived somewhere nice since they attended the academy, but the richest area in Gotham? Come on now. 

The trees were plentiful in this area and the sidewalks weren’t deathtraps like the rest of the city. There were even people jogging alone with headphones in- what?! In your dangerous side of town, you could hardly walk with your phone in your pocket without becoming a mugging target. 

The group made another turn onto a long, grand street where the huge mansions loomed dauntingly over each side of you, snickering that you didn’t belong here. 

You looked ahead, straight down the middle, where a giant foreboding… castle? No, mansion?  sat affixed with a gigantic monogrammed metal gate. 

Tim and Damian were still smacking at each other when Stephanie randomly and quickly decided to turn around to walk in the grass beside you. “You’re new, right?” 

You nodded. “It’s still my first week.”

You were expecting the normal ‘how are you liking it?’ or ‘who’s your homeroom teacher?’ type of question, so you weren’t at all prepared for her next question. “I heard.” You tensed instantly, but she either didn’t notice or didn't care. “So, what’s your deal anyway?” 

“Please, Brown,” upon hearing what she said, Damian abandoned his bickering to intervene in your conversation. “You may very well be dumb, so don’t pretend to be.” 

Stephanie ripped her glance from you to Damian and pinched her face together. “The hell does that mean, asshole?”

“See, you really are an idiot,” he let out an exasperated sigh. 

Tim seemed extremely uncomfortable and focused his attention strictly on the insane mansions you were passing. You felt like doing the same, but your eyes refused to leave the pavement to avoid the conflict raging on- something you were having to get used to in Gotham.

“Feel free to explain, baby face,” she taunted. 

You felt Damian stir angrily from beside you. “You know what people have been saying.” Damian glared at her menacingly enough to make you glad that you weren’t on the receiving end of it. “Don’t play dumb,” he said simply.

“This is why no one wants to hang out with you except the new girl, hellspawn!” Stephanie spat coldly. “With your angry little outbursts and shit. Makes sense your only friend would also be the only other social outcast at GA,” she added with a huff, deflecting Damian’s attacks that he’d already begun throwing her way. 

Damn, that's really what people thought of you? 

It had been a mistake to come. 

You desperately wanted to tell Damian that you’d just teach him during lunch tomorrow so you wouldn't be intruding, but he was too busy getting up in Stephanie's face to notice you trying to get his attention.

“I should say the same for you, you nosey hag! Why I oughta-”

“It’s true,” Tim said quietly from beside her, causing her to turn quickly and Damian to cease his verbal (and physical) assault. 

Now, you felt infinitely more embarrassed. This had definitely been a mistake.  

Stephanie perked up at the sound of Tim taking her side, but you felt like complete and utter shit. All those times at your locker, Tim was just being nice to you because he felt like he had to. 

Your legs hesitated in an attempt to retrace your steps and go back to your shitty, empty apartment to be alone. 

"What does that mean, Drake?" Damian growled, redirecting his assault toward the raven-haired sophomore.

"I mean, what you said is right, Damian." Relief flooded instantly with the realization that, no, Tim was actually just being nice to you because he wanted to. 

"Oh." Damian relaxed at the same time Stephanie huffed. 

"Whatever." She flipped her blonde hair in Tim's expectant face, though he made no move to dodge the attack.

You didn’t know these people and even though Damian had actually seemed kind, you shouldn’t have accepted a group hangout with people you didn't know after the extreme bullying that had been going on. 

The spat then moved from Stephanie and Damian to Stephanie and Tim. Damian used this as an excuse to focus his attention back on you. 

“What’s wrong?” You’d never heard his voice sound so soft. 

You looked up from the ground. “It’s just,” you paused, not sure if you wanted to continue. Maybe it was the fear of rejection, maybe it was what Stephanie said, or maybe it was something else entirely. “If you have all these friends,” you gestured between the three of them, “why are you being nice to me?”

“Don’t ask dumb questions. It makes you sound insecure.” He seemed to mean it in the kindest way possible, but even still, it did nothing to put you at ease.

Damn, if he hadn’t hit the nail right on the head, though. 

You had been feeling insecure recently. It was hard not to with the constant attacks. Not to say you were anybody at Star City, choosing mostly to operate under the radar, but here, not only were you on the radar, but you were a lone dot. These rich kids seemed to get off on treating you like some kind of taboo sideshow.  

You'd somewhat expected Damian to act like Bart: say hi in the hall and make sure to give you notes to catch up on when you’d been out sick, but that was it.  

That was all you’d known as far as real kindness, even at Star City. 

You’d never hung out outside of school, let alone in it. You always focused more on your novels and comic books rather than the petty drama unfolding in middle school. 

Damian was basically your first real friend, you realized. 

“Okay,” you said, wanting to appease your friend. 

It seemed to work because he knocked into your shoulder lightly. In response, you did the same back, this time with more force.

“Careful,” he said your name deeply. He then dug his bony shoulder into your fleshy one, leaving you to yelp. “I won’t go easy on you just because you’re a girl.” 

“Damn, Damian,” Stephanie interrupted with a Cheshire grin. “You’re soo smooth with the ladies.” She nudged at him, but he didn’t seem to fall for the bait this time. 

He sighed dramatically, distancing himself from beside you, “You’re not worth my time, Brown.” 

Tim glanced back between the two of you with a casual calculation that made you wince. Why couldn’t they see you were just friends? More specifically, only friends because everyone else in your grade and others seemed to hate your guts if Stephanie’s reaction was anything to go by.

As you passed the last few houses on the block, you quickly realized you were approaching the biggest one. 

Just who had you befriended? 

Actually, how were these three even friends? It seemed like all they did was hate on each other and argue about dumb shit, you noted to yourself as you attempted to keep in step with their fast pace. 

“How did you guys become friends, anyway?” you asked. 

“You mean she doesn’t know?” Stephanie giggled mirthfully. 

You were starting not to like this Stephanie girl. First, being called an outcast and now acting like you're dumb? Yeah, not the greatest first impression. Maybe it was just an off day for her, you shrugged internally.

“Shut up,” Damian scowled, glancing between the three of you.

Tim looked back at you with an intensity in his blue eyes that you couldn’t place. “You’ve never heard of Bruce Wayne?” 

 “I don’t live under a rock,” you said, rolling your eyes lightly, “but what does he have to do with anything?”

“Oh, man,” Stephanie laughed, “this is good.” 

You couldn’t tell if you liked her or not yet as you didn’t see what was so funny. Hell, you couldn't tell if she liked you or not as she went from insulting you to messing with you- it was confusing the fuck out of you. 

Damian could sense your annoyance. “Tim and I live with him.” 

You’d thought back to what the news said about Bruce Wayne. He was rich, a playboy, and he adopted a fuck ton of kids, so WAIT... Did that mean...?

“You live with him, or you guys are family?” You’re shocked at the revelation, looking between the two boys for similarities you’d missed. You noted that, aside from their dark hair and aptitude to bicker, they truly bore no resemblance to one another in the slightest. 

“Sure,” Tim said just as Damian replied, “Hell no.” 

 “They love each other, though,” Stephanie assured you with a snort and a devilish smirk. “Don’t you guys?” 

“You are on my last nerve today, Brown.” Damian’s eyes bore menacingly into the back of her head. “That’s not a place you want to be.” 

“Seconded,” Tim added, flicking her nose playfully.

You nodded at the information and figured you would do your research once you got home. That and treat yourself to the latest issue of your favorite comic for dealing with this social shitshow. Maybe a face mask, too. 

“Jeez, what is this? Hate on Stephanie day?” She swiveled to give everyone her best version puppy dog eyes, but much to her chagrin, your sympathetic smile was the only positive response she was met with. 

You’d always been a people pleaser. It seemed Damian was definitely not that and Tim? Tim seemed more distracted by your presence than anything. 

“It is now,” Damian muttered as your group approached the daunting gates of what you now knew to be Wayne Manor. 

Tim kept glancing back at you sporadically, which had you checking over your uniform and hair. Did you look like shit or something? 

Even Stephanie seemed to notice his incessant staring. “You good?” Tim blushed and swatted at her fingers, which poked him all over. 

Maybe earlier you’d mistaken her forward behavior as being rude like the rest of the people you’d encountered at Gotham. Maybe she was treating you like this because she liked you? 

Girls were too complicated.

“I think for once,” Tim said as Stephanie backed off enough to let him enter the gate code, “Damian and I can agree on something.” 

She gasped as your group continued up the expansive driveway, “BITCH!” 

You tuned out the screaming as you thought about all the parties you’d read about in the paper. Each of them taking place quite literally where you were stepping. All the elegant gowns and cars that had crossed this very path over the years and now you in your Gotham Academy uniform.

You’d realized that the group was a lot of energy to deal with about halfway through the walk here. Not that it was bad, but after the week you’d had, you already felt so drained. 

It sucked because you knew hanging out with people did nothing but benefit everything you’d been experiencing since the move, yet, at the same time, it was so, so much. You reminded yourself of your comic and face mask and persevered while trying not to let your energy bring the group down.

Damian said your last name as you walked into the house- manor, “Let’s go to my room.” 

You hadn’t been able to take in… well, anything before Damian was pulling you by the arm like a rag doll. 

“HEY!” Stephanie whine-screamed from the foyer. “What if we wanted to hang out with the new girl, too!” You cringed internally at her use of the nickname that others had used as an insult against you all week. After your rocky start with Stephanie, you weren't sure you necessarily appreciated it coming out of her mouth either.

As if her wish had been answered, Damian, along with you in tow, ran right into something- no, someone- as you rounded the corner to get to the stairs.

“Woah there, Dami!”

You and Damian looked up at the most gorgeous, ripped human ever. Your eyes followed a chiseled path upward. 

The man’s olive skin glistened wet from whatever pool he’d been swimming in. You had no doubt that this place had a ridiculous amount of them. The man's bold choice to wear a royal blue Speedo was making it difficult for you to swallow, let alone maintain normal, conversational eye contact. 

He casually wiped his dark, wet locks off and flipped the matching blue towel he was holding over his muscled shoulder. Who knew you could be so attracted to that shit? A shoulder? Come on, girl, this was too thirsty even for you. One thing was for sure, though; this guy looked like he’d popped straight out of one of your comic books.

“Grayson, move,” Damian demanded with his signature glare. "I'm not kidding." 

“Okay, baby bird.” He made to move out of the way, then winked a cerulean eye and quickly shifted back. "After you introduce me to your girlfriend.” 

At that, you and Damian both looked disgusted enough that the man burst into a fit of teary laughter. 

Damian tried to use the distraction to move past him, but the older man still refused to move, even with tears completely shrouding his eyes. 

At this point, Tim sprang up from behind you and Damian to mediate, but Grayson, as Damian had referred to him, barely acknowledged him when he came into view. This all changed when Tim opened his mouth.  

“She knows Bart,” it was all Tim said, but it had evidently been enough. 

The man let out a long and excited 'ohhhh!' and smiled softly, completely shifting from a menacing annoyance to a charming puppy.

“I don’t think I introduced myself.” He’d crossed his arms to fend off Damian, meaning it now meant that you were face to face with his rippling biceps. Even as he unfurled them, you could still see the full power of their aggressive definition. You were definitely blushing now. “I’m Dick,” he said as he offered you a titan-sized hand to shake. 

You took it lightly, not that it mattered with his strong grip while telling him your name. You wouldn’t be able to think of a dick joke until he was way out of your vantage point, let alone say anything intelligent until then. 

“You probably never met his cousin, but Wally and I go waaay back, if you know what I mean,” Dick sighed and moved from the front of the staircase as he reminisced. “We used to sneak out on the weekends together to… do homework.” He caught himself quickly enough as he nodded to you and all the rest of the high schoolers in the room. “Oh man, and during prom when we,” he said with a smile before seemingly dropping back into the present again, “danced. Sober. And did nothing else.” He looked pointedly at you and Damian. “Maybe don’t do what I did?” he muttered to himself, lost in thought as he suddenly took off deeper into Wayne Manor, still in a Speedo, you might add, but damn, you were not expecting what was behind him at all.

Your eyes bulged at the juiciest ass you’d ever seen on anyone, regardless of gender. 

Damian rolled his eyes at your incessant staring and insisted you follow him. “Now that the troll isn’t in the way.” 

"Yeah, troll," you said distractedly, letting Damian lead you up the stairs and down a hallway of dark, wooden doors. 

He shook his head at your entranced state as he reached a random door and pulled you inside. 

The room was warm and quaint, with light leaking from the undrawn cream curtains. Easels and half-finished work were somehow in an organized clutter about the floor and took up nearly the rest of the room.

He said your name immediately, snapping you out of your thoughts, “Don’t look at my shit.”

You laughed and picked up the closest stack to you. “How can I not?” you said, gesturing down to the very angry acrylic scratches for lines on the thin canvases in your hand. “You fighting some demons, buddy?” you teased his aggressive art style.

“You have no idea,” came his cryptic reply.

You ignored his statement and continued your inspection of the room. “Do you even own a watercolor set?” You looked around and only saw the same types of paint tubes. 

He looked proud as he shuffled around stacks of his artwork. “I had Pennyworth order us some.”

Even more cryptic. Awesome. 

This family just got weirder and weirder the longer you stuck around. It was honestly a wonder you hadn’t run back to your apartment at this point. 

“Okay.”  

He smirked as he shoved a Schmincke palette into your face, “Tell me I don’t have the necessary supplies now,” he proudly said your last name. You ogled at the expensive palette, reaching out for it, which he regretfully obliged. “Don’t get your drool on it now,” he warned, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the thought.  

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved him off, “only in your dreams, twerp.”

“Enough,” he demanded sternly, effectively scaring the shit out of you. 

“Woah, there.” You used one hand to hold the $400 watercolors and the other to imitate a white flag. He’d used that same tone so many times earlier, but never towards you. “I didn’t mean anything by it, s’just a nickname.” You quickly handed him back the palette and made off toward an empty easel in an attempt to change the mood. “Do you want me to teach you or not?” 

He crossed his arms and huffed like a child, nay, a twerp, as he disappeared off into the hall to search for more supplies in lieu of a response. 

You stood in the room, unsure of what to do with yourself, when you heard the door open up again. 

Instead of Damian’s short stature, it was Tim. 

Your eyes widened at the sight of him. “Hey,” you said. Your hands fiddled anxiously behind your back as Tim's unreadable face scanned the room and you.

“So, you guys are really just painting?” He picked up some of Damian’s work, something you would never tell your friend, seeing as you liked Tim and wanted him to remain alive. 

“Duh.” After all those nasty rumors spread about you, suddenly, any proximity to a boy was considered promiscuous. You’d never even had your first kiss anyway, which was the most embarrassing part about the whole rumors ordeal. You glanced back at Tim to see him staring at you like he’d been on the walk here. “What?” 

He chuckled, running a loose hand through his dark locks. He looked effortlessly, yet somehow understatedly, gorgeous. “You owe me for earlier down there, by the way.”

“Sure,” you said, “whatever you say, Tim.” 

“See you around?” It comes out like a question.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” you laughed at his small frown. “We’re locker buddies. Of course, I’ll see you, loser.” You quickly smacked your hand over your mouth. “Sorry, I was just joking!” 

“You’re the nerd here.” He shot you a cheeky smile before moving towards the door. “See ya.” 

You waved back at him as he left, then immediately felt around your cheeks for any sign of heat. 

Damian reappeared moments after Tim left, plopping a pad of watercolor paper in front of you with an expectant stare. “Well?”

Damian really was a funny kid. Whether he meant to be or if this was really just how he acted, you didn’t know yet, but you couldn’t help the snort that erupted unexpectedly.

“Are you just going to stand behind me like a fucking voyeur?”

He blushed and tugged at his collar. “Of course not,” he said, referring to your last name—another quirk of his you were already getting used to. 

It was almost endearing. 

Almost. 

He snatched a nearby easel and set it down next to yours, noticeably not behind it, you noted with amusement. Damian then grabbed the pad of paper he’d stuck in front of you and split the thick book in half with an ease that left you speechless. Literally. What do you say after someone does something mundane so savagely yet so casually? 

“Uh.” 

He glared at you as if to warn you to drop the whole thing. “You may have talent, but I don’t have all day.”

“Whatever,” you dismissed him, still not over him ripping the book.

This must be how he bantered. You realized that, while you may have noticed some of his personality, you definitely were nowhere close to understanding the true breadth of it. Yet, you added hopefully. 

You both quietly fell into a companionable silence as you showed him certain tricks he would replicate on his half of the watercolor paper pad. You noted that the silence only lasted so long, as Damian’s aggressive style still wasn’t transferring to the watercolors. 

“This is bullshit,” he muttered as he scrapped yet another piece of paper. 

“Maybe it’s just not your style?” you tried, but the glare you were met with left no room for debate. “Okay, okay.” You moved beside him and put your hand over his to control the movement. His body wash or whatever cologne he was wearing smelled amazing, but damn, did the kid overdo it. “See how light I’m pressing?” He nodded as you did the movement again, releasing more of his intoxicating scent that you were forced to ignore. “You want to paint with the tip of the brush mostly and you can’t do that if it’s smushed against the paper,” you said. He replicated your light movement with your hand still on top of his, creating a thin, delicate line. “Come look,” you said as you stepped back to fully view his canvas and motioned for him to do the same. 

“You’re right.” He inspected his previous work to the one you had just worked on with him. He said your name suddenly, causing you to turn towards him. 

You hoped you weren’t blushing, but the close proximity, his scent and him saying your first name for once? It was a bit too much for you.

Before you could reply, a resounding bang crashed throughout the room, seeming to have come from somewhere downstairs. Damian remained perfectly still but seemed unsure of the comeuppance, which did nothing to comfort you. 

“Damian?” you asked, unsure of what to do. 

Then the yelling started. 

You couldn’t hear much of it at first, but it quickly became a booming screech, then even louder to the point the two of you couldn’t ignore the ruckus any longer.  

“Stay here,” was all he said. He got up swiftly to shut the door behind him, effectively leaving you to listen blindly to the crashes and bangs from below.

You easily could’ve listened to Damian's demands, but you didn’t. 

As soon as he left the room, you waited only a moment before opening the door to follow after his retreating form. Once you reached the end of the wall, you crouched down to peer through the banister down into the entryway below. 

You held back your gasp at the sight of a hulking Bruce Wayne, who was much larger in person than on TV and the papers, towering menacingly over yet another dark-haired kid.

You couldn’t see Damian, but you peered close enough to catch Tim and Dick attempting to intervene with the rampaging kid. 

Where had Stephanie gone to? You searched around with wide eyes but found her nowhere. You couldn't lie that you wished she were here to witness this crazy shit go down with you.

Speaking of Damian. 

“I told you to stay in the room,” he grumbled, suddenly appearing behind you to grab your hand. 

You stumbled as you fell into step with him while he pulled you back towards the direction of the art room. Instead of taking you back there, he stopped just short and tugged you down a different staircase from the main one. 

“Where did you even come from?” You hadn’t heard or seen him sneak up on you at all. He was like a fucking ninja. “Who is that?” That being the more important question to ask, you realized. 

Tim was already waiting for the two of you halfway down the stairs while an older gentleman waited down at the base. Tim looked haunted, but it seemed like, at the very least, he was holding it together for you. Damian, to the untrained eye, seemed as unbothered as ever, but you picked up on the way his actions bordered on robotic more so than usual, meaning he was also putting on a calm facade for you. 

You realized you wouldn't be getting any answers any time soon.

“Miss,” the older gentleman stated your last name as you came to the end of the stairs and found yourself in a huge kitchen that would be any chef's dream. “I will be the one escorting you home this evening.” 

The guttural screaming and banging sounded close, so you nodded and swiftly followed behind. All the while, Tim and Damian remained protectively on either side of you.

Flanked and covered on all sides, you made your way out a back exit where you assumed a car would be waiting. 

You don't know what made you do it, but you turned your head at the last minute to see the new raven-haired kid stomping directly across the hallway that led right to you. 

Your eyes took him in, trailing helplessly over his larger form while your fight or flight kicked in. 

“Another one?” he screeched, his seething green eyes locking onto your own with a fiery rage. “ANOTHER FUCKING REPLACEMENT, BRUCE?”

You startled backward into Tim’s chest as your eyes refused to leave the active threat in front of you. 

Bruce came into view, noting your presence briefly with a quick but sorry gaze. It was enough to make your stomach flip at the acknowledgment. 

You were shaking, you realized, just as Dick yelled at him to get back. 

He and Bruce had the kid held back by both of his arms as he attempted to come closer to you, but scar-face continued to struggle violently against their inhumanly strong grip. 

“TOO MUCH TESTOSTERONE, SO YOU HAD TO GO ADOPT SOME FAT BITCH?” From this close, you noticed the angry scars cutting across the fleshiness of his boyish cheeks and his odd white tuft of hair. The scars bent and morphed with every exaggerated expression. 

Damian snarled from behind you while Tim and Alfred both placed gentle, guiding hands on your shoulders to lead you outside and into a blacked-out sports car. 

What even was that dude talking about? Replacement? Adopted? 

After quick goodbyes to Tim and Damian, you were left alone in the back of a Rolls Royce, wondering what the fuck you’d just witnessed.

•

About a week after your first visit to Wayne Manor and only a few days into your second week at Gotham Academy, you were still finding a routine. 

Every morning started off by seeing Tim (and sometimes Stephanie) by your locker. The three of you would chat for a bit about classes until Damian would stop by to walk you to your first class, only because the rumors still hadn’t quieted. 

If anything, the gossip had only gotten worse after you'd started hanging around the Wayne family.  

You were a grade ahead in English and had confided in Damian after a few days of pretending like you didn’t know where the classroom was and him insisting you did, that you were actually just anxious. He’d looked at you like you were dumb until you explained your dilemma of having to cross through the older kid hallways to get to the classroom. 

He hadn’t needed you to elaborate further to understand that the kids were still making fun of you. Thus, he began to walk you to class every day. 

It wasn’t like Damian’s presence stopped the taunting; it just made it less directly aimed at you, which worked just as well. Plus, Damian ended up being funny as hell, so just having his presence helped keep you calm through it all. 

It was... sweet.

Another new routine was that you now had Damian to eat lunch with and Tim and Stephanie as well. After your first hangout, you started seeing more of them in the hallways and eventually at lunch. It turned out both had the same lunch period and, after discovering this fact, would try to sit at the lunch table with you guys most of the time unless they had projects and such to complete.

Long gone were your days of hiding out alone in the library.

Today had been much of the same.

You were at lunch with Damian and Tim (Stephanie had to stay over in chemistry to finish an assignment) when a familiar and not in a good way, green-eyed face plopped down. The force was enough to shake the entire table. 

His very being demanded attention, you realized with a gulp as you took in his messed-up uniform collar and, even more pressing, the deep-set scars that ran across the majority of his face.

Your fearful glance bounced between an annoyed Damian and tense Tim while the kid who’d screamed at you appeared sheepish. 

“What’s up?” he tried with a deep voice that sounded extremely different from the angry yells you'd heard during your first visit to the manor. 

When no one responded, he scoffed and pulled out a packed lunch that matched Damian and Tim’s sophisticated own. Though it looked insanely good to you, he pushed around at it. You looked down at the pathetic leftover pizza you’d ordered two days prior with severe disdain. Definitely not as appetizing as their gourmet sandwiches and pastries. 

As if sensing your envy, the kid from the manor pulled out a red Tupperware container and scooted it cautiously across the table toward you. 

You eyed the container skeptically before squinting at him. 

“I made you scones.” You didn’t bother responding once again, but, nonetheless, he continued, “I’m Jason.” 

“Okay,” you drawled out, wishing he would just leave you alone.

He looked unsure of you now, eyes widened and searching Damian and Tim’s faces for the right thing to say, but neither offered any help, let alone return his anxious gaze. 

Why did he care what you thought of him or whether or not you accepted his apology?

“You’re not fat, by the way,” he added hastily, realizing too late that it had sounded a lot better in his head than it did coming out. 

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped from your lips, not having expected his forwardness. You cleared your throat after catching the incredulous looks from everyone else at the table, but Jason seemed pleased. 

You rolled your eyes a bit, hesitantly accepting his peace offering, when your stomach growled, revealing just how disappointed with your lunch you were. You couldn’t deny that his scones looked fucking bomb and the piece of pizza you’d eaten left a lot to be desired. 

You took out a chocolate chip scone and toasted it in his direction. “Nice to meet you, Jason,” you told him your name before biting into the heavenly pastry. The insane taste alone had you moaning. “Holy shit,” you opened your eyes to see everyone at the table bright red and refusing to make eye contact with you, that is, aside from Jason’s stark green ones, “these are awesome."

You weren’t lying, either. 

You knew how to cook and bake and all (when you were able to get the ingredients, that is), but it never came out anything like this.

“I made them.” He smiled at you a bit hesitantly. You could imagine why after such a violent introduction (if it could even be called that) and now here he was with a complete 180, gentle disposition and scones. “I could show you too?” It came out as more of a question. 

“Careful, Todd,” Damian warned, “she’s my friend, not yours.” 

You would later ask Jason for his scone recipe and curse him when you realized that, of course, he hadn’t given you the exact recipe and your scones came out tasting like shit. All those wasted ingredients for nothing, the fucking asshole. 

You were going to get that recipe.

•

The same week Jason started school, you returned to Wayne Manor for the second time. This time, without all the hostility, though it seemed like any time the Wayne siblings hung out, there was some sort of quarrel. 

This time, it was over who kept dropping all the green shells. 

Damian was convinced it was Stephanie, who was convinced it was Barbara, who was convinced it was Dick, who was convinced it was Tim, but it had been you. Jason, who refused to play and insisted on posting up against the game room entryway, knew it'd been you.

What were you supposed to do when they were apparent Mario Kart gods while you were more like a toddler chewing on a console?

Finally, after Stephanie, Barbara and Dick had each won twice in a row, Mario Kart was rage quit by Damian, who demanded the group play something else.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his petulance, “At least you came in second once.”

“Yeah, well, someone has to be last place,” he said your last name. 

“Maybe not every time, though,” Tim teased you with a nudge from beside you on the couch you were both sitting on with Damian. 

“Well, then. Let’s play something I’m good at,” you said as you flipped through their virtual game library until you came across Injustice 2 and launched it. Everyone in the room boo’ed. “What?!” you asked incredulously. “You guys bought the game, not me!”

Luckily, Damian came to your rescue. “I want to play."

“You gonna be Batman, little bird?” Stephanie teased him. 

“Please, Brown,” Damian maneuvered his controller to click on player two just as you picked player one, “I actually want to win.”

You played as Catwoman, while Damian selected Robin. 

“They should have some relevant dialogue when they appear too!” You wiggled excitedly in your seat in anticipation. 

It'd been a while since you played the first game and you’d never had the money to buy the second game, so all the game content was all new to you.

The characters loaded in and true to what you said, they began to taunt each other. You tried to turn up the volume, but before you could, Damian clicked 'A' and skipped through the intro, leaving your mouth to drop at the audacity.

Stephanie and Barbara cackled at your offended face while Dick got up to try and smooth things over with a placating grin. "Woah, there." 

“Fucking asshole!” you cut Dick off, dropping the remote as Robin began beating the shit out of Catwoman before you could get a proper hold on your controller.

“Fuck your dialogue,” Damian said as he sat hunched over with his hands rapidly pounding buttons while you attempted to catch up to his onslaught of attacks. Stephanie, Barbara and Tim were hooting and hollering at Catwoman's whip assault while Dick sat back down to politely cheer for Damian, who quickly shut it down. "You're distracting me, Grayson."

You end up kicking his ass, but barely. Still enough of a beating for him to throw the controller out of the room past Jason's looming body. 

You laughed as he pushed into your shoulder, “So much for last place, huh?”

He stuck his tongue out and you don’t know why your first thought was to grab it, but you did. 

You stared at him while he stared at you, tongue still between your pointer and thumb, neither of you (or anyone in the room) saying anything. You were equally surprised he hadn’t reclaimed his tongue by pushing you or whatever Damian’s aggressive ass would normally do.

Jason, somehow, is the one who ended up breaking the weird, no, awkward tension you’d created by clicking on rematch. This time, you noted, without skipping the dialogue. 

You nodded appreciatively in his direction, but he just shook his head with a roll of his eyes. "Psycho."

You dropped Damian’s tongue immediately, flush with embarrassment you were desperately trying to quell into a cool nonchalance and joined the game. 

Within a few seconds, you used Catwoman’s whip to knock Robin on his ass with ease. "That's rich." You shot him a pointed eyebrow that you knew he understood.

“Jeesh!” Stephanie exclaimed now on the edge of her seat as Robin teleported behind Catwoman, but you dodged his sword attack and retaliated with a headlock followed by a body slam. She ended up blocking Dick’s view, leaving him to shuffle across the room near Jason in order to see past everyone who’d collectively gotten up from their seats. 

Jason, who was on the left side of the couch, didn’t seem too bothered by Dick’s presence, but you knew it was throwing him off a little. As soon as Dick entered Jason's personal bubble, he was no longer able to dodge your Super Move like he'd done countless times before.

In the end, Jason beat you with a wink and left the room, leaving you more confused than ever about your rocky relationship. 

From screaming to scones to winks, all in a few days. You were getting severe whiplash from this family when you weren’t even sure why they all even wanted to keep hanging out with you, least of all why you kept coming back.

Maybe it was a bit dysfunctional, maybe you were all dysfunctional for that matter, but for the first time ever, you felt like you kind of belonged. 

It was… nice.

A/N: hope ur enjoying so far!

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[need1etail]

I have 3 questions about your AU! :) I'm a dummy and confused myself on some stuff, so wanted to ask before I got further haha

1. Has Witch replaced Tree completely in your AU or does he still exist, and maybe the cats will need to find him reason later (or even he gets a cameo?) for some reason? I like Witch, but grew fond of Tree after reading his novella and TBC. If Witch has replaced him, did you not like the extra-toed cat part of the prophecy? I just imagine them walking around with a buncha extra toes on their lil paws and a split face, making them even weirder-looking than Tree, so was wondering lolol!!

2. Who all were the cats Needle saw saving her? I just finished reading the chapter where the missing cats were found (wonderful writing...!) but got confused by who is who and where. Needle saw two white cats, a torbie, a gray tortoiseshell, and a brown tabby. But when I read the reunion chapter, we only saw Dawnpelt (gray tortoiseshell), Cloverfoot (gray torbie), Beenose (white), Pepper (black with white paws and tail-tip), Birchbark (beige), and Lioneye (yellow). Who was the second white cat and brown tabby? I know it can't be Snowbird (white) or Snakepaw (tabico), because Snowbird said she was wandering Twolegplace completely alone until she and Snakepaw found each other, and Snakepaw didn't mention being around others when she woke up. She just mentioned Witch helping heal her. Did someone who helped save Needle die? :(

3. Who all from former ShadowClan is still with the Kin? I know Slate is (confirmed he attacked Spark...! Asshole!) and Sleek was until she was exiled for failing to kill Needle (or so she says...I'm keeping my eye on you, miss gorlie!), as well as the cats mentioned in the prologue before Sleek set out to find Needle, but I'm lost on who else is there!

Sorry for all the questions 🥲 just curiosity!

Never apologizs for asking questions, I love them <3 and thank you so much 💞💞

1. Yes, Witch has replaced Tree <3 Tbh I just. Didn't like Tree and Violet's relationship as much as I liked her's and Zelda's, so, originally, Zelda was gonna replace Tree. But after a while I, too, grew fond of Violet and Tree's relationship. So I combined them lol which is why Witch is a brown (Zelda) and golden (Tree) chimera! At this point, i kind of wish violet were in a poly relationship with Zelda and Tree, but I. Really like Witch 😭 they're one of my favorite Warriors OCs I've made, even if they're a combo of two canon cats. So no, unfortunately, Tree will not show up in this rewrite since, technically, he is Witch. I like the idea of Witch having extra toes lol but it might not be said in canon. They are a strange lil cat I adore them <3

2. Sooo I messed up and I have to go back and fix that thank you for reminding me. It was supposed to be two black-and-white cats! Beenose and Pepper. While technically Bee isn't black-and-white, I will continue to call her that lol. You're right about everyone! The brown tabby was Marshstripe and he is a-okay :) i really hope i mentioned him in the chapter where the lost shc cats are found i wouldn't put it pazt myself for forgetting whdbxhxh. I always forget about Marshstripe I'm as bad as the Erins 😭 he'll show up in Needle's Light <3

3. As of the end of Stalking Darkness, it is only Spikefur, Slateclaw, Juniperfang, and Rippletail I believe! All the jackasses <3 they'll be acknowledged eventuay don't worry, just haven't had the chance yet 😭

[imjustheretoseetheprivateblogs]

Note: All pairings will be depicted as 18+ years or older, warnings for questionable content will be issued in chapters should they contain any. I reserve the right to not write a pairing.

Update: Update: This poll is now closed. Thank you to everyone who voted. Results are below the cut. I will work on them in numerical order:

Rosegarden-27

Renora-14

Arkos-13

White Knight-12

Blacksun-8

Arc Furnace-8

Emercury-8

Ironwitch-7

Snowbird-7

Slush Puppy-7

Broken Machines-7

Cinnabun-6

Dragonslayer-6

Uptown Funk-6

Solarflare-6

Lancaster-6

Faunus Pride-6

Thermometer-5

Phoenix-5

Sunnybees-5

Ice Coal’d-5

OzpinxOscar’s Aunt-5

Summer Lovin-4

Bad Harvest-4

Professor Arc-4

Other-4

Alcoholics Anonymous-4

French Roast-4

Robyn/Qrow/Clover-4

Iceberg-4

Combat Goggles-4

Wise Dragon-3

Sunny Kalifornia-3

Speakeasy-3

Seabiscuit-2

Yatsuyang-2

Ice Cream-2

Yang Bang-2

Time Piece-2

WeissxHarem-2

Call Me Sir-1

LSD-1

Gauntlets & Greaves-1

OzmaxSalem-1

Kalimari-1

Country Rose-1

Sea & Sky-1

Thank you once again to everyone who voted

[esther-dot]

All That Is After

“He’d been the hunter and the hunted, at times, both, but he could never tell which he was when it came to Sansa. To her, with her, he was neither. Although, what he was—what they were, he had never been able to say.

Yet, no matter how far he traveled, even beyond the Wall, the thought was still there. He carried it with him, worse, it escaped his hand and surrounded him. It was in the call of every bird, the caw of the crows, the song of the snowbirds, the hoot of the owls from the depths of the night.

Harsh, hopeful, hidden.

He counted off days slowly, bending and breaking them like the ends of branches, marking his way back home, but he persisted in riding further North. He would not bend.”

Chapter 2 on AO3

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Cardinal Sins

by albatmobile (delsol) Living with your vigilante boyfriends for the past year has been amazing, well, almost. Butting heads, old wounds resurfacing and a deadly threat still looming overhead could threaten the sanctity of everything you've ever fought for. Will you finally overcome your tainted past and survive the trials and tribulations, or will your relationships and your faith crumble under the pressure?   Sequel to Art of Rehabilitating Snowbirds Words: 6595, Chapters: 1/13, Language: English Series: Part 2 of Rehabilitation & Repentance Fandoms: Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Young Justice - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: Multi Characters: Jason Todd, Roy Harper, Damian Wayne, Jonathan Kent, Stephanie Brown, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Kon-El | Conner Kent, Tim Drake, Lian Harper, Luke Fox, Bruce Wayne, Oliver Queen, Dinah Lance, Connor Hawke Relationships: Jason Todd/Reader, Roy Harper/Reader, Roy Harper/Jason Todd/Reader, Roy Harper/Jason Todd Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Slow Build, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Roy has a bionic arm, Hurt/Comfort, honorary batsis!reader, Found Family, Other Additional Tags to Be Added via https://ift.tt/OlRs41Z