#snowbird chapter 3

[organised-disaster]

Sorry for the delay, but it's finished!!

I'm just going to tag @baxieblur-turnip and @randosfandos because they're the only interaction I get lol

SNOWBIRD: CHAPTER III

"You'll be fine, Rumes. Your name's only in once this year," says Yumi. She wraps a hairband around my braid, keeping it in place.

I rub my nose.

"Yeah, but you're in a bunch of times," I say. Yumi sighs.

"That's okay. It's my last year, remember? And so many other people have the same odds as me. We'll both be safe."

Yumi awkwardly stumbles out from behind me. I remain seated on the floor, staring at a scuff mark on Yumi's floorboards. Yumi crouches down slightly. She squeezes my shoulders.

"It's going to be okay, Rumi." I nod. Yumi gently tugs me to my feet. "Come on, then, Junco. We'll be in trouble if we're late."

Yumi had all sorts of cute little nicknames for me. Sometimes, I wished she'd just say my name, although it usually wasn't positive if she did. It was mainly "Rumes." I don't let anyone call me any of Yumi's nicknames anymore.

She called me "Junco" a lot, too. It was my favourite bird. Yumi said she started calling me that because her earliest memory of me is me pointing at one during winter. Yumi loved to tell me that story, too.

I was sick. Nothing that would hurt me now, but I wasn't a strong child, and such a mild illness hit me hard. I never really knew what I had. It never occurred to me to ask.

Yumi said that she came to check on me, alongside my mother. I was apparently standing up in my cot and watching the window.

I pointed at it and said, "Bird." I was talking about a fat little dark-eyed junco I had spotted. Yumi used to say how she was convinced it had cured me. She said she figured out that it was medicine and care, but she was young.

She found out what it was called and started using it as if it was my name instead of the bird's. She called me that less as I got older, but she almost never called me by my real name when I was younger.

I hug my knees closer to my chest.

"Junco, you should dig a -" A wave crashes over my cubic sandcastle, obliterating it and reducing it to naught but a pile of dampened grains of sand.

I frown.

"A moat. You should dig a moat. That way, the waves can't hit it that hard," Yumi finishes. I start to rebuild the sandcastle. Yumi walks over, her footprints shifting the waterlogged sand around them.

"You can't just rebuild it and expect it to be okay, you know," Yumi states. I halt my construction, watching as the waves once again take it from me.

"Why not?" I ask, resuming.

"You can't control the ocean, Junco. It'll break your blocks down over and over again, no matter how high you build it up," she tells me. I look up at her. She smiles.

"You can do so much else in situations like these," she chuckles. "You change what you can control. Like a moat! You could dig a moat. Or build a wall."

Yumi does both of these as I watch, fascinated. She uses her body to block the waves as she digs and uses the sand to build a wall.

She gets up. The waves once again crash around my sandcastle, but it remains unharmed.

"See? It can't do anything now."

I was only eight, I think, which would have made Yumi fourteen. She made it her business to ensure I learned something from all our interactions. Even if that something was simply that she loved me.

Yumi felt it was important. I didn't realise until just last year that she did it out of a fear of early death. A completely justified fear. Yumi was never paranoid, not even when she was literally surrounded by people who wanted her dead.

"Happy birthday, Junco!" Yumi says cheerfully.

"Yumes, aren't you supposed to be at the Reaping?" I ask her as I yawn. Yumi shrugs and hugs me.

"Ah, well, I have a few hours. A few hours for your birthday!" Yumi does a stupid dance that involves flicking her hands around and jumping a little. I giggle.

"I'm pretty old now," I state once I'm done screeching with laughter after Yumi unintentionally falls and lands flat on her face.

"Ten!" says Yumi excitedly. "It's your first milestone!" Yumi's cheerfulness seems slightly strange.

"Are you okay?" I ask. Yumi sighs. She smiles, albeit slightly forced.

"I'm just a bit worried, Junco," she says.

"Oh, but it's nothing major! Just silly little anxieties," she says, backtracking desperately as she sees my frown.

"Okay..." I say slowly. I don't believe her. I hope that's evident. Yumi hugs me again.

"It's fine, okay, Junco? You're fine. It's your birthday," she says. I don't know why she's hugging me so tight or why she's shaking so much.

"I think I'm a little old to be called 'Junco' now, Yumes," I say, changing the subject.

"Oh. Okay," says Yumi vaguely. "What do you want to be called?" she asks. I ponder her question for a moment.

"I like Rumes. Call me Rumes," I say. Yumi nods and smiles again.

"Well, Rumes," says Yumi, placing some extra emphasis on my name. "The Kaishurrs caught some nice salmon. Mother's cooking it for breakfast today!"

I smile. I do like salmon. Yumi relaxes at the expression on my face.

"I'll let you get your good clothes on, Rumes," she says. Yumi turns and leaves.

Mr Kaishurr is a fisher, as he was at the time, working in his big teams on their haulers. They'd sometimes go over quota, meaning they got to choose what to do with the excess.

Well, not really. They weren't truly allowed to, but the Peacekeepers turned a blind eye to it. Some even bought fish from them. District Four has never been a poor district, but if you were doing that physical labour, if you were being tossed about on the open ocean, at the mercy of the elements...

Well, would another bowl of soup truly hurt anyone? Another, more filling topping for your bread? Just a little more food at dinner? And the Capitol wouldn't even suffer without the extra. The Peacekeepers understand that. That's why the Capitol remains unknowing of District Four ever going over quota by more than would be noted.

The Kaishurrs often chose to share their excess with us. It's what we'd cook on special occasions. My mother was the reason we knew them, being incredibly good friends with Mrs Kaishurr. With their wives occupied with talking and laughing and cooking together, my father and Mr Kaishurr really only had the option to talk to each other.

Their conversations were stilted and awkward. They coexisted because it was easier than hating each other. Mr Kaishurr always rubbed my father the wrong way. He irritated me slightly, too, always talking and knocking people about or putting his arms around people's shoulders or talking far closer than he really needed to.

Neither of my parents fished - when they still worked - and worked much higher-paying jobs than the Kaishurrs did. My mother ran a glass-blowing business, as well as just making small-scale glass panes and such.

Most of the glass in Panem is sourced from here, although One is responsible for making most of the gorgeous things out of it.

My mother used to say how she loved the shapes and colours the glass made. That was why she did it, she said, and not because it paid well. It did, though. Fine glasswork such as Mother made was expensive.

My father worked on the mayoral council. Still works. He must be disappearing there all day to still be bringing in an income. He's fairly close to the mayor in his position, and he used to be good friends with him. Maybe he still is. I don't know when he'd find the time, though. He's buried himself in work and alcohol, even more so lately.

Sometimes, the mayor would come over for dinner with us. When Yumi was still alive, when Mother was still here, when Father still smiled, when the Kaishurrs were in the early stages of their fight.

Yumi would dress nicely, as would I. Our mother would start preparing food early while our father would clean the house. Mayor Esthel was his friend, but he was the type of friend that Father had to be cautious around.

Yumi gently kicks my leg under the table. I look at her. She pulls a strange face, tugging the skin under her eyes down with her pinkie fingers while she stretches the corners of her mouth with her other fingers. She sticks her tongue out.

I laugh quietly. Our mother smacks the side of Yumi's head, stifling a laugh of her own. Yumi stops tugging her face, her mouth snapping back to her normal smile.

We're silent again as we eat our dinner. I messily eat the bread I've been soaking in my soup, getting the hot liquid all over my chin. Yumi hands me a napkin.

I look up at her again. She's balancing her spoon on her nose. It falls off and clatters on the table. She quickly slaps it back onto her face like it never fell in the first place.

I laugh much louder this time, mainly at how goofy Yumi looks with her large grin and nose obscured by silver metal. Yumi seems satisfied.

Our father clears his throat, briefly distracted from his conversation by Yumi's antics. He's glaring rather pointedly at her. Mayor Esthel chuckles and waves a hand good-naturedly.

"Please, Sesten, it's fine. Your daughters act like my little girls. It's nothing I'm not well-versed in."

Mayor Esthel has two daughters, Tyra and Mechi. Completely identical to the point where they're sure they were confused with each other as babies. Both have straw-coloured, collar length hair cut in neat bobs. Each about my height.

They're both my age. We talk occasionally. Nobody can tell them apart by face alone, but Mechi has taken to embroidering her name onto all her clothing for that exact reason.

The day they swap clothing is the end of whatever we have together, I suspect. Tyra completely believes that she is more attractive than her sister and that they shouldn't be indistinguishable from each other.

They're both good-looking, with their fair complexions, sharp noses, and keen, narrow features, but Mechi is far nicer to be around. That doesn't stop both of them from being equally popular and equally desired. Tyra loves the attention while Mechi merely tolerates it.

I wouldn't say we're friends. Friends are too dangerous.

I hear quiet, muffled crying. I wander out of my bedroom, searching for its source. It's coming from Yumi's room.

I open the door. Yumi's face is buried in her hands, and her shoulders are shaking. She's sitting on her bed in a weak slouch. I walk over to her.

"Yumi?"

Yumi snaps up to look at me. She sniffles loudly and wipes her nose.

"Are you okay?" Yumi looks like she tries to smile. Instead, she bursts into sobs again.

I sit down next to her and wrap my arms around her. Yumi continues to cry. After a long time, she takes a deep breath. I hand her a handkerchief.

She wipes her eyes, then loudly blows her nose. She folds the handkerchief up.

"I'm sorry, Junco, I... It's not your problem, really," she says damply.

She pats my head. She smiles as more tears pool in her eyes. She pulls me into a hug.

"I love you, Junco. Don't ever forget that."

"Do you miss Otto?" I ask.

"Yes," Yumi chokes out.

"I miss Otto, too," I say feebly.

"I don't think there's anyone who doesn't," Yumi responds, equally quiet.

"I think she did a good job," I try. Yumi is quiet.

"She fought pretty hard," is all she says after a while.

Otto was a sweet enough girl. She was Yumi's closest friend, right up until her death eight years ago. She went down roaring. Yumi said she didn't like seeing Otto like that, but what did she expect?

Otovia Ossa, the best student in her grade and the most lethal fighter. She killed three other tributes before... Gloss, was it? Something like that, anyway. Before what's-her-name from District One took her down and won.

"Why?"

It was a stupid question, really. It had an obvious answer. But hearing it out of Yumi's mouth made it stick with me.

"Because she wanted to go home. In the end, the winner isn't the most vicious. They're not the best at killing. They're just the one who fights the hardest to get home."

I'll never forget that. It's burned into my brain. And I know. I know exactly how she meant it. I know what she was doing when she did it.

Yumi squeezes my hand reassuringly. I look at her. She smiles warmly. I smile back.

"The female tribute is..." Yumi doesn't let go of my hand. "Rumi Erudite!"

Yumi almost crushes my hand before she releases it. I stiffly walk forward. Yumi sputters from behind me. I get halfway to the stage before she shouts.

"I volunteer as tribute!" Yumi shoves me back into where I was. Our eyes meet in passing. She's angry. Her expression softens as she looks at me, but then she turns back to the crowd. Her eyes harden and smoulder again, the brown suddenly appearing black as she glares at them.

I didn't misunderstand the meaning. Yumi was always clear with me.

There's a close-up of Yumi's disgusted expression as she turns away, then the camera switches back to the Careers finishing the District Eleven tributes off. Yumi's district partner created a net trap. District Eleven was their first set of victims.

"Man up, Erudite," scoffs District One. "This is the 'fight each other to the death like animals for a chance to go home' games. Being a pacifist gets you killed." Yumi glares at him.

"It's barbaric," she spits. "Trapping them like fish."

"The barbarity is the whole point," shoots the other District One tribute in retaliation. Yumi still looks appalled.

"I won't have a part in it," she mutters. The other District Four tribute quickly comes to her aid as the other Careers growl and mutter as they turn toward her, faces twisted into snarls.

"So you're just dead weight, then?"

"You're using our supplies, but you won't contribute?"

"We don't need to keep you, you realise..."

"She doesn't mean it like that, guys. She'll help us, obviously, and she'll kill someone if she needs to. She just means she doesn't want to for the moment," says her district partner, pointedly turning and glaring at Yumi.

"She's not good at getting things across," he lies.

"That's believable," sneers District Two. District Four huffs.

"She is worth more alive than she is dead right now," says the other District Two tribute.

There's various mutters of agreement.

"Fine. We're eating you the minute we run out of food, though, Yumi," says District One. She's met with awkward silence. "It's called a joke. It's called a bloody joke, guys, relax."

So why? Why would she tell me that and do what she did?

District Four stomps after Yumi, his trident in his hands. He could throw it.

"Fight me, you idiot! It's just us! Why are you still running?!"

Yumi doesn't respond to him, losing her footing in the mud and slipping but not entirely falling. She continues fleeing. Her district partner finally decides to try, shifting easily into a sprint. He gains on Yumi immediately.

He yanks on her jacket, throwing her to the ground by her hood. Yumi makes no visible attempt to resist. He raises his trident in front of her face, and his whole body tensed as if to throw it. He holds himself there for a while.

"Yumi..." he says quietly, his trident falling from his hands. "...please fight. This is getting depressing."

Yumi looks up at him and smiles, although slightly sad.

"No."

I couldn't put the pieces together. I can now, of course, but I was twelve, and she was eighteen, and I firmly believed she was amazing. I couldn't see her flaws.

And I couldn't see why she would let him kill her without even resisting. I realise now, though, that Yumi saw it as a way out.

As her escape. Yumi never liked the idea of the Games. She never liked being trapped under the Capitol. If she had been around when it happened, she would have wholeheartedly supported the rebellion that started this whole mess.

She kept quiet. She loved me. She protected me. And then when the moment came, the time when she could help our family...

She didn't take her opportunity.

She loved human life in general more than she loved me.

That's fair, I suppose.

Finnick Odair yanks his trident free of Yumi's body. As he is declared the winner, he throws the trident far away from him. It buries itself in a tree trunk. Finnick drops to his knees and begins to sob.

For a brief moment, there is only the babbling of the commentators on the screen. Something shatters.

What do I remember, I wonder? What do I remember of my mother's screams, of my father's mournful fury? I remember the sound of my mother screaming until her throat was raw. I remember how she sounded as if her heart had been ripped from her chest.

I remember my father's bleeding, shredded knuckles as he continued to punch the walls until they gave way. I remember his face. I remember my mother's. I remember...

I don't even remember what I felt. I loved my big sister more than anything.

There was a funeral. Yumi's friends attended. Yumi's parents attended. The girl who had practically become Yumi's younger sister attended. Finnick attended. Did I attend? Did I attend the gathering meant to mourn, if I had never once mourned? I don't know.

I left dandelions on her grave. She liked dandelions.

My father gave the eulogy. My mother couldn't. She was forgiven fairly easily, so wrought with grief that she wasn't really present in the first place. District Four talked about me. They thought I didn't hear them.

Everyone loved Yumi. Most cried when she died. They expressed their sympathy to my family. My parents were inconsolable. Some people tried to talk to me.

I'm told I showed nothing. That I was completely and utterly blank with no sign of mourning or sadness or anger or anything that would be brought about by the death of a sister.

I'm told I unsettled people. Because a child's eyes should never be so dull or emotionless, I'm told. So they started avoiding me. They still do.

I receive sideways looks. I receive double takes. I receive second glances. People walk faster when I am behind them. People do not show me their backs if they can help it.

I loved my mother, too. Although the last time we ever spoke was the hour before Yumi's death.

Mrs Kaishurr, of course, attempted to console her. My mother's other friends, my uncles, my father, they all made efforts to help her. I think the last time I ever saw her was when we passed in the hallway.

She didn't look at me. She hadn't looked better than she'd been before, but she wasn't crying. Her eyes still seemed flat and hollow. The circles under her eyes were much darker than they had been.

Her hand was briefly on my shoulder. She gently squeezed it. And then she walked into the study.

She was a lovely woman. Brown curls down to her upper back and brown eyes to match. She was patient. Perhaps too loving. She had her hobbies. She didn't even leave a note. She loved her friends. She was a loving mother and wife.

It was my father that I looked most like. Yumi's distinction from me came from our mother's eyes and curls, but our narrow faces and black hair came from our father. Yumi was a combination of both our parents. I clearly only took after our father.

My parents used to joke about how I was exclusively my father's daughter and that my mother had no part in me. My father would then say that this was a blessing, because I was already such a pretty girl and that if I looked like my mother he would have to start nailing boards to our doors so people couldn't break into our house and propose to me on the spot.

My mother would laugh and smack him with whatever was in her hand at the time, often a spatula.

I wasn't the only victim of my father's jokes. He would occasionally ask Yumi how many boys she'd turned down that day, to which she would respond with a random number. My mother would sigh and shake her head, smiling.

There wasn't any sign of a struggle. Most of her things were missing, along with some bags. The door was unlocked. It's reasonable to assume she left of her own accord. She didn't even look at me. She couldn't, apparently. If the conversations overheard through doors are any clue.

We still don't know where she went. We had no guesses, no indication. We just assumed she went to another district. I wonder how well that went for her. I used to despise her for it, for abandoning her family when they needed her. I don't blame her for leaving anymore, though.

She left because she just couldn't face it anymore. Because she couldn't look at her home and know that one of her daughters would never return to it. Because she couldn't look at her surviving daughter without seeing the other one. Because she couldn't look at her daughter, knowing why she'd never see the other one again.

I can't blame her. I'd leave, too, if I knew that I would be forced to live in a home that could never feel full again.

Some good leaving would do now, though. Now that the damage has already been done. There wouldn't be a point. And besides, who would miss me?

Who would miss Rumi Erudite, the girl good at nothing but violence? Who would miss Rumi Erudite, the girl who only knows how to hurt? Who would miss Rumi Erudite, the girl that everyone would be correct to hate?

No one. I know that if I vanished, no one would look for me. My father already refuses to acknowledge my existence, as if pretending he only ever had one daughter would prevent him from losing the second. There is occasionally food on the table when I get home, but beyond that, I am dead to him. I doubt he's even doing it to save himself anymore. He ignores me out of habit and hate.

People would hear that I had disappeared. They'd remark that it was odd, perhaps, if I didn't leave a note. That would be the end of it, and no one would speak of Rumi Erudite again.

Maybe I should. I should just leave in the middle of the night, quietly and without making a spectacle of it. Since nobody would care.

I kick the wall across from me, hoping to put a hole in it. The wall does not give, but when I bring my leg down, something makes a crinkling noise. I look up to see what it was. A small, rectangular parcel sitting under my foot. I pick it up. It fits nicely across both my hands. It says my name on it in a neat, very deliberate script, as if the person writing it had to spend a lot of time and effort forming each letter. Sera's handwriting.

I tear the paper off it. A photo frame, thicker than most that I've seen. I run my fingers over the patterns dug into the dark wooden border. Framed is Yumi.

A greyscale drawing of her, done with graphite pencils. It's incredibly detailed. Yumi is facing the artist and smiling warmly. A few of her dark curls are caught up around her ears. She looks a little windblown, her hair preferring the left side of her head to sit.

I turn it over to find that it has a stand. Pinned underneath the stand is a note in Sera's slow handwriting.

Happy birthday, Rumes. Love ya.

I run my fingers gently down the glass panel in the front, tracing the outline of Yumi's face. The surface is uneven and rippled. I pull my thumb down the frame again and am pricked by a sliver of wood. This is Sera's handiwork.

It's not really a surprise that she made this. She's quite adept with things like these, a skill developed by years of gutting fish. Her hands tremble, but she can hold them still when she concentrates. A smudge on the side of Yumi's right eye tells me that Sera probably drew this, too.

Of course. Of course she did. Because that stupid girl just won't give up on me and move on.

My knuckles whiten as I grip the portrait of Yumi. Sera. I want to strangle her. I want to shout at her. I want to call her an idiot and slap her until she regains her senses. I want to hold her close and never let her go. I want to beg on my knees at her feet for her to forgive me. I want her to leave my life entirely.

She's an idiot. She'll never learn. She'll be the one who gets lost looking for me. She'll be the one who gets hurt defending me. She'll be the one who wastes her life on me. She'll be the one who stands too close when I lash out.

She's the only one who stayed in my life. She was the only one who comforted me after Yumi died. She was the only one who came to my aid when everyone was correct to say those things to me.

I grab Sera's arm and pull her away. She resists, ignoring my statements that she's done enough. The boy, covering his bleeding nose and what will turn into a black eye, cusses and runs off.

I use my thumb to wipe the blood away from Sera's cheek. She draws the back of her hand across her mouth, smearing the blood from her busted lip.

"Tetra shouldn't be allowed to talk to you like that," she mutters.

"And you shouldn't be allowed to get into fistfights with people who insult me," I snap back angrily.

Sera folds her arms across her chest.

"It's not fair. He w-w-went after Yumi." I let go of her face.

"He went after me, not Yumi," I tell her. Sera frowns harder.

"He said that -"

"It doesn't matter what he said. He was going after me." Sera's expression changes from a confused frown to near tears.

"Rumi, it isn't your fault."

It makes me angry, so angry, when Sera lies to me. She thinks I can't tell that she lies to me. But we've known each other for fifteen years. I recognise cues that basically don't exist. I can identify her mood based on how quickly she blinks.

I see all her little tells, her painfully obvious tells. And they infuriate me.

I am not a thinker. That is not what I do. I act before I ask, as I've been told by my many frustrated primary school teachers. And by plenty of others, to remove the needlessly complicated words.

I act on anger. I act on sadness. I act on hate. I do not act on happiness or love or anything that Sera does. That is why she does them, to make up for every horrible thing I do.

I regret acting in that moment. It would have been better if I had done nothing, nothing at all. It made me want to cut off my hands. She didn't deserve it. She hadn't earned it. She had already taken so many hits for my sake. And then I administered one more, and it was the one that made her cry.

Sera places her hand on her cheek, rubbing where I hit her. She looks rattled. I clench my fists tightly, backing away from her. Tears spring into her eyes.

"I'm... I'm sorry..." I mumble. Sera starts to tremble. Her tears drip down her cheeks. She looks utterly betrayed. I walk away faster, shaking my head. Sera's shoulders start to shake as she sobs. I turn and run entirely.

I ran all the way home and locked myself in my room. Rumi Erudite doesn't cry. She gets close, yes, but she doesn't ever cry. She's not capable of it. She's not capable of empathy.

She is capable of violence. She is capable of smashing photo frames and shattering mirrors and punching walls and hurting everyone around her.

She is capable of sitting in a ring of broken glass, her knuckles bleeding and cut by the shards stabbed into them that she couldn't be bothered to remove. She is capable of being discovered by the friend that she punched in the face.

That friend is capable of wrapping her arms around Rumi Erudite and brushing the hair out of her face. That friend is capable of telling Rumi Erudite that it is all alright as she gently pulls the mirror fragments from her awful hands. That friend is capable of bandaging Rumi Erudite's self-inflicted wounds.

That friend is capable of listening and nodding while Rumi Erudite gives the most worthless apology anyone has ever heard.

"I... I didn't mean it, Sera. Please. I didn't mean it."

"I know. It's okay. Did I push too hard?"

"..."

"Rumes?"

"Why do you always blame yourself?"

"Haha. You're exaggerating a little there, Rumi."

"I'm serious. What part of this was your fault?"

"I... Uhm... You... Tetra w-w-was being an ass! He -"

"You didn't deserve that. I'm... I'm sorry. I got angry and you were close."

"It's okay, Rumi, it really is."

Sera bounces back. She brushes things off. She ignores, she overlooks, she turns a blind eye. To everything I do wrong. She thinks I don't notice what she discards of her morals for me. She knows I'm not a good person.

I don't know why she's stayed by my side all these years. She's had six to leave, six to work out how to phrase it without hurting me. Sera is kind. She lets people down gently.

I don't deserve that, though. I deserve to be dropped from a great height, in the metaphorical sense. Perhaps in the literal, too. Maybe I would walk off myself...

I cut off that train of thought as quickly as I can, shoving it back to the dark corner of my mind where it resides. It's much worse than simply fantasising about leaving, and I'd rather not touch it now.

Sera tends to hold it out of my reach, though. Even if it hurts her, she stays by me. For fifteen years, I've been a thorn in her side. For twelve, I've hurt her. For six, I've been...

Awful. I am awful. I am a monster. And Sera is an angel, an angel, and she will always hold out her hand to me so that one day I may stand in her light. That hand...

That hand that is calloused and scarred from years of work. That hand that is wonderful to know and to love. That hand that is safe to be near.

That hand that is always gentle even when it is undeserved. That hand that is never raised against me, not even when it would be considered self-defence, not even when it is necessary, not even when it is right. That hand that is often wrong, that persists nonetheless.

That hand that is always outstretched, always waiting for me to take. No matter how many times it gets bitten and clawed and stabbed, it will never retreat. That hand whose owner always smiles, be it happily or sadly or with worry. I hate that smile.

I hate Sera. I hate her rough hands that feel so warm wiping the blood off my face. I hate her gentle tracing of the scars on my knuckles and abdomen and face and arms. I hate the way she holds my hands, acting as if they have a purpose that isn't pain. I hate the way she cups my cheek in her palm, and I especially hate the way I lean into it.

I hate the way I stain her hands with the rust-coloured aftermath of my training to die fighting. I hate the way I worry her with my cuts and bruises. I hate the way I resist when she tries to use me for comfort. I hate the way I abuse her.

I hate the way I dare use up air. I hate the way I dare waste her time. I hate the way I dare take up space. I hate the way my eyes are hooded. I hate the scar on my cheek. I hate the sight of my face. I hate how I love winning fights. I hate how I love the sensation of flesh under my fists.

And, oh, how I hate that all I know to do is hate.

I hate.

Sera hugs me desperately, hiccuping and sobbing. Yumi gently pries her off me. She sniffles loudly, and her face screwed up. Yumi hugs Sera, clearly feeling sorry for her. This proves to be a mistake, as Sera instantly latches onto Yumi with the approximate force of a vice.

"Sera, sweetheart, let me go," says Yumi kindly. Sera responds by burying her face in Yumi's stomach. Yumi pats Sera's head. "We'll be late, Sera. We'll get in a lot of trouble with the Peacekeepers if we're late."

Sera releases Yumi, desperately trying to contain another ocean's worth of tears.

"It's only her first year. She'll be alright, Sera. You guys can go to the beach again afterwards, like you normally do!"

Sera nods. She looks at me, then hugs me again.

"It's a beautiful day for the beach, Sera."

"Okay."

"Come on, Rumi. I wasn't joking."

"Come home, Rumes..."

"...please."

And hate.

Sera wipes her eyes. Then she wipes them again. And again. I hand her a tissue, which is instantly soaked by all the water pouring from her eyes.

"I'm so happy you're still here, Rumi," she manages, voice choked by emotion."And Yumi's going to be okay, right?"

"Of course she will. She wouldn't leave us. She'll fight."

"Y- Yeah... Yeah, I bet she w-w-will! Yumi's amazing! She'll be okay. I bet she'll w-w-win and not have to hurt anyone, either! She's smart enough to figure it out." Sera inhales unsteadily, her usual smile brought to her lips.

I hug her.

And hate.

I do not let go. I cannot ever let go. The world will fall to pieces if I let go. She is dead, so she is holding me together. And I am holding her together also, because Yumi is not here to do it for us.

She weeps. I cannot.

But it won't change the fact that my mother left.

My father barks a laugh. It's angry and mirthless.

"Of course she would. Because she just can't take anything, can she?! She just -" My father abruptly smashes his empty bottle of drink into the wall. It does not break.

"- can't -" Again, he forces the bottle into the wall. " - take -" I hear the bottle crack, but it remains sturdy. The wall is dented now.

"- anything!" The bottle explodes into a shower of shattered glass and alcohol dregs. It's almost pretty, with the way the light hits it.

But it won't change the fact that my father does not accept that I exist.

I gently open the door to my father's study. He is sitting at his desk, head down, and glass in hand. It's mostly empty. Paperwork litters the floor. I read one. It's about a request for a new Peacekeeper division.

I make no attempt to wake my father. He will not like it if I wake him from whatever heavy, dreamless sleep he has deliberately drowned himself in.

But it won't change the fact that Sera was injured.

I clutch the hem of my mother's dress, peering around her in an attempt to see into Cod's home. They talk at the door.

A little girl with blonde hair wanders into my field of view. She turns to look at me. Her face is badly scraped, stitches running from her chin to her nose and her eyebrow to her hair parting. Her nose is mostly obscured by a bandage.

She studies me for a long time, attempting to place me in whatever memories that have not bled out of her. She beams, her grin crooked, and waves.

She calls my name, and I call hers.

But it won't change the fact that Yumi is dead.

"Finnick?"

"Yes?"

"When you get home, can you please do something for me?"

"Of course, Yumi. Anything."

"Tell my family I love them. And there's a girl named Sera Kaishurr. Tell her I love her, too."

"I will, Yumi. I promise."

"My baby sister, most of all. Don't let her forget."

Yumi's slight smile does not ever fade.

And it will never change the fact that I killed her.

[albatmobile]

Cardinal Sins Chapter 3

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 | 15k | Contains: popsicle smut, revelations and a takedown fem!Reader x Jason Todd x Roy Harper [masterlist] Previous in Series: Art of Rehabilitating Snowbirds

Chapter Three: Ice Cream

“Lian,” Roy lectures halfheartedly as he looks up, mopping the sweat from his freckled forehead. “I need your help putting together your dollhouse. Where do you keep wandering off to?” He stops talking as soon as he catches sight of what’s in her hand. “Where did you get that?”

The 'that' refers to the melting blue popsicle you just gave her.

“What?” you question, meeting his unimpressed stare with one of your own.

It’s hot as fuck outside. 

Even under the covered part of your balcony with fans running, it’s almost unbearable. This, however, doesn���t stop Jason and Roy from insisting on putting together a dollhouse the size of you outside on it.

“Why did you give Lian a popsicle if you know she’s supposed to help daddies put this together?”

“Because I wanted a popsicle,” you suck on your own popsicle as if it’s obvious, “and I knew if I got one she would want one, so…” 

“Baby, I want a popsicle,” Roy complains from beside Jason. He pulls up the bottom of his shirt to wipe at the cascading sweat on his forehead before giving up and throwing it off his body altogether. 

You bite at the corner of your lower lip, getting lost in the dips of his dripping, chiseled chest.

He, being the asshole he is, hands Jason the screwdriver 

“You two fucks are good for nothing,” Jason teases. You snatch your popsicle from Roy’s exaggerated lunges your way with a bubbly laugh. “What’s the point of dating two people if I’m the only one ever doing the heavy lifting work?” 

“Roy and I are like your trophy wives, daddy,” Roy nods at your statement enthusiastically from beside you before chomping off half of the treat in your hand. “ROY!” you shout.

“DAD!” Lian echoes your yell. 

At this point, Lian has more puddle than popsicle. 

Roy sees this and uses it as an excuse to eat the melting blue goop before it hits the stone tile.

“So stinkin’ cute,” you can’t help but coo.

“You sound just like him,” Jason teases, looking up at you through his dark lashes.

You blush brighter than the red popsicle in your hand. “Shut up.”

Jason smirks, briefly glancing down at the screw before looking back up at you. “Give me a bite,” he says.

Your heart flutters.

Even though you’ve been dating over a year at this point, he still manages to stir butterflies in your stomach. Without hesitation, you bend down, bringing the sweet cold against his silky lips. The red liquid trickles slowly down to his defined jawline until it dribbles down onto his jugular.

You slowly settle in his lap with your legs stretched across his thick thighs.

His eyes flash dangerously.

You take the melting stick and press it against his lips again. This time, he lewdly slurps at it, drawing attention from Roy who’d just finished off Lian’s popsicle. 

“Go wash your hands, etai yazi,” Roy says while distractedly ushering Lian inside. He shuts the balcony door behind her, but he’s too busy staring at you on top of Jason to notice that she’s dripping blue all across the hardwood. 

As soon as she’s out of sight, Roy bolts over hungrily.

Your tongue juts out, lightly tracing along the sweet red river stretched out along his neck and Adam’s apple. You flick at his jugular with the tip of your tongue, watching as it bobs up and down before gently sucking it into your mouth.

He releases the prettiest moan.

The screwdriver falls to the tile with a clatter, but you and Jason are far too wrapped up in each other to notice his closeness.

It’s as if a floodgate has broken. Neither of you willing to break apart.

All of your arguments have put distance between you that seems to dissipate with every hungry clash of your mouths together.

Roy cuts in, sucking Jason’s tongue into his mouth lewdly for your entertainment. Their sinful green eyes peer at you, half-lidded, as they consume each other with slick, wet noises.

They break apart to scatter teasing bites and hickeys all along your shoulders and neck.

All of a sudden, you hear Lian’s tiny footsteps. Curiously, they seem to be scampering in the opposite direction.

You glance up to see her running with one of the Twinkie’s from Roy’s sweets stash, only to disappear into her room moments later. You figure it’ll at least give you a few minutes of peace out here.

“I love it when you guys get along,” Roy pants once Jason allows him to come up for breath. His eyes are blown wide with his pupils encompassing the majority of his verdant, lucid gaze. “And in public too, nonetheless.”

You blush at the reminder, though it doesn’t stop you from removing your top and pushing Jason’s closest hand into your panties. You instantly buck into his calloused teasing, rolling your hips as your arms collapse around his neck.

He expertly trails along your folds, parting them while hardly offering you relief.

Your hips roll helplessly against his onslaught, gasping when the pad of his finger briefly catches on your clit. 

“You want to piss off the neighbors, babe?”

You groan pathetically, “I don’t give a fuck as long as you keep touching me.”

He does.

His rough fingers trickle down to your entrance, teasing you only briefly before slowly sinking his index finger into you. Meanwhile, Roy takes a brief look around before pulling down his pants and slinking down to the ground beside both of you. He grips his cock in his hand loosely, watching as Jason’s hand retreats in and out of your squelching heat. You bite your lip as you watch his stroke steadily becomes more desperate as Jason’s pace increases. 

You take Roy’s girthy member into your free hand and offer sporadic, desperate yanks as Jason stealthily adds in another thick finger.

The pleasure becomes damn near unbearable as his fingers work in tandem, curling and uncurling against your g-spot. At some point, you get lost in the throws of your pleasure, leaving Jason to pick up where you’d left off on Roy’s cock.

He teases you slightly, stalling his movements to spit on Roy’s red-tipped cock. You watch as his saccharine saliva drizzles down Roy’s tantalizing length. 

You can’t help it. You need him in your mouth.

You unfurl your tongue, welcoming Roy’s hefty weight against it as you gag against his fiery base. Jason runs a gentle hand through your locks before tugging your attention back to him, enveloping your plump lips with his own. As soon as he releases you, your mouth is back on Roy’s length.

This is how the three of you continue until Roy’s orgasm interrupts your lewd makeout session with Jason. 

Your expecting tongues and Jason’s fluttery dark lashes are now drizzled in Roy’s sticky want. It’s enough to have you twitching and grinding mindlessly against Jason’s rough fingers until you still suddenly and release. He removes his fingers from your still-pulsating cunt, revealing a slick trail on them as he does so.

You gasp when he shoves your want right down your throat. Your eyes cross briefly as you take his large, syrupy fingers into your small mouth, sucking the sweetness of your orgasm as you meet his dazed eyes.

You know just how to thank him.

“Baby,” you slink from Jason’s lap to position yourself lower, “let us suck you off.”

Jason looks over at a beet-red Roy, whose spent dick twitches hungrily in response to your salaciousness.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Roy beams eagerly, moving to help you remove Jason’s shorts.

You and Roy share so nicely for Jason, taking turns tempting him to go over the edge.

Your tongue lewdly traverses Jason’s length, stopping briefly to tangle with Roy’s from the other side of Jason’s cock before diving back in.

The three of you know you don’t have much time before Lian becomes bored and comes back out. Because of this, the time usually spent teasing and edging is spent in a race to see what will make the other come undone first. 

You utilize all the tricks they’ve both taught you in an endless barrage that leaves Jason grunting and tugging at your and Roy’s hair.

“Shit!”

“You already about to come, Jay?” Roy teases around swollen lips.

“You’re one to talk, Harper.” Roy doesn’t bother with a retort. Instead, he flicks his tongue in a way he knows Jason can’t resist.

Together, you and Roy make quick work of his leaking cock, taking turns devouring his length until he can’t hold himself back any longer.

“Mm,” you moan salaciously. You take his load, but you don’t swallow it. Instead, you spit Jason’s come out onto his twitching length and force Roy’s head down on the mess to clean it up.

He slurps gently at Jason’s sensitive member, collecting as much of the stickiness as he can before drawing you in for a kiss to take the rest.

“Fuck,��� Jason groans, pulling each of you in for a toe-curling kiss. “I needed that.”

“I better go grab some towels,” Roy says, getting to his feet. He throws you your shirt as he messes with the heavy balcony door, “and go see what else Lian stole from the sugar drawer.”  

��••

“My boy!” Ollie greets. The older blonde man roughly pats the shit out of Roy’s back as your motley crew enters their mansion.

Dinah, with Connor clinging to her hip, welcomes each of your family members in with big bear hugs.

You look around at their growing little family and can’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach as you look at your own. You don’t even notice your sentimental gaze toward Lian until Dinah mentions it.

“You okay?” she asks, though it seems like she already knows the response.

You’d waited for so long to be a part of Jason and Roy’s life and now that it’s finally here, you sometimes stop and catch yourself taking it in. 

“Yeah, good,” you clear your throat anxiously under her knowing gaze. She lets you stew in your thoughts a bit until you unwittingly blurt out, “So, how has it been?”

Dinah shoots you a knowing smirk but plays coy anyway, “How’s what been, love?”

You know there’d be no point in faking ignorance with her.

“You know,” you smile awkwardly, “your family and all that?”

She laughs easily, sounding almost too perfect. “It’s been good. Not a lot of sleep, but we’re both used to it after years on the job,” she pauses a moment, staring at Lian and then at you. “Are you sure that’s all you were wanting to know?” She gives you another look that, for some reason, has you revealing all your cards.

A family of your own.

The butterflies come back tenfold.

“Being a parent to a newborn seems intense,” you say, motioning to where Connor and Lian are messing around with his toys. Right now, Lian is attempting to teach him which shapes go in which hole.

“Ah,” she finally looks pleased with your response. “See, being a parent is just another phase in life. It’s an important decision, though. One that shouldn’t be taken lightly,” she sounds resolute, “but you already know that- don’t you?”

You blush down at a beaming Lian. 

When you realized that Jason and Roy were completely open to you being in their life, you knew you had to be there for Lian too. You’ve already made the decision, it seems, without necessarily fully realizing it. It’s daunting to you to be considered a parent when you’ve never considered yourself to have any. You know, aside from Bruce.

Thinking back to your own parents, you realize that, yes, they’d been your age at some point, grew up at some point. That being said, it didn’t seem like they’d put as careful consideration into raising you as you’re determined to with Lian. No, they’d only raised you for a check.

Lian…

Jason and Roy have assured you numerous times that she thinks of you as her mom. The word alone makes you slightly uncomfortable with the realization you now have the ability to fuck her up mentally, just like your parents have done to you.

How is this the first time you’re realizing this?

You begin to inwardly panic, hoping you’re hiding it well, but your wide, doe-ish eyes reveal it all.

She places a gentle hand on your bicep as if hearing your thoughts as they loudly clash in your brain. Fucking therapists, always therapist-ing. 

You sigh, “How do you know you won’t fuck it all up? That you won’t fuck them up?”

She nods as if thinking of the answer. When it comes to her, you’re definitely not ready for what she says.

“You can’t not fuck them up,” she says with a shrug, looking down at her babbling son. “That’s just what being a parent is. As long as you do your very best to do right by them, that’s what counts. Being a parent is a thankless job. All you can do is try to set them up for success; give them a life that’s better than yours. If you do that, you can’t fuck them up too bad, I’d say.”

You nod, pretending like it all makes sense, but you really have no clue.

“The hell are you two on about over there in the corner?” Ollie’s loud voice booms, effectively startling you three feet into the air.

Roy quickly hushes him with a warning glare, “Lian’s in her repeating phase, grandpa.”

“Yeah, grandpa,” Lian mimics her dad.

Roy raises a brow at his dad as if to say, ‘I told you so.’

Ollie raises his hands up in faux-surrender. “Sorry, kid. The other kid over there’s just a bit over two, so cursing isn’t really on our minds so much as choking hazards.”

Lian and Connor have been getting on like a house on fire. She’s eager to teach him and read to him, helping him stand and playing peek-a-boo with him until he giggles himself into a fit. You don’t realize you’ve been staring so long until you feel Roy’s familiar verdant gaze fall on you. Before he can make some smart ass remark that’ll make you blue-ball him for the rest of the night, Lian chirps up.

“Dad,” Lian shouts over her shoulder. Connor stumbles a little bit, leaving Lian to immediately turn around to support him as he attempts to wobble around. “Can we get a baby?” 

Roy sputters while Jason pointedly avoids Ollie’s shit-eating grin.

“Any advice on how to take this one, Ollie?” Roy asks.

“How the fuck should I know?” he says, thoroughly amused.

“Because you’re Roy’s dad?” you chime in with your confusion palpable.  

“Darlin’, this is my first time parenting a kid so young,” Ollie snorts. “When I found this kid over here, he was already downloading porn to the cave’s systems-”

“The Quiver,” Roy corrects him.

“Oh, damn.” Ollie seems to think on it for a moment. “Yeah, that does work a lot better,” he starts to say something else, then stops. “Shit, have you been calling it The Quiver this whole time?” Roy merely rolls his eyes in response. “No, no. That’s good. That’s good,” he says to himself before turning toward Dinah. “Were you calling it The Quiver?”

“Love,” she sighs tiredly, “it’s not cavernous in the slightest.”

Ollie stops rubbing pensively at his goatee. “Damn.”

“Damn,” Lian repeats quietly.

Dinah shoots Ollie a loathing look, one Roy matches easily.

“I told you she’s in her repeating phase,” he hisses, covering her ears from any further debauchery from Ollie’s mouth.

“How the fu-" he catches himself, shooting a playful index finger in Roy’s direction, then Dinah’s. “Caught myself, see? I can parent.” Dinah, however, doesn’t look impressed. “Maybe I’m not the best with cursing,” he admits. “And honestly, parenting is still new to me.”

“Tell me about it,” Roy mutters under his breath as he busies himself with fixing Lian’s braids. 

“Listen,” Ollie starts cautiously, “the first time I saw you on the reservation, kid, you were mourning the death of your second father.”

“Brave Bow,” Roy offers to no one in particular.

A quick glance Jason’s way reveals nothing about the events unfolding. 

Does he already know this, or is he hearing this for the first time too?

“I guess I just didn’t know how to be that,” he searches for the word, “parent or, I don’t know, role model for you. Tried my damn-darndest, though, I’ll tell you that much.” Ollie sees you looking inquisitively Roy’s way and quickly adds, “S’not my business to say much beyond that, though,” he trails off awkwardly, watching as Roy continues to stare at the carpet.

Luckily, Roy fills in the blanks for you.

“He took me in and offered me a life I never could’ve had on the reservation. How can I be mad at him for that?” his tone seems to contradict his prior statement, however. 

“That doesn’t invalidate any negative feelings you have, though,” you offer awkwardly in the tense atmosphere that’s quickly overtaking the room. 

You’ve seen Bat Family drama, but never Harper/Queen/Lance beyond the night of the college party.

“Shit,” Roy sighs with a weak smile. “I thought being an adult meant feelings were supposed to get easier.” 

“Definitely not,” you say at the same time Jason answers, “Fuck no.”

“All this being said, Jason wasn’t my only intervention,” he says it so simply, but the grim look on Ollie’s face says everything you need to know. He’s hit a nerve.

Dinah moves to pick up Connor from the floor to quiet his upset noises, “You know we tried our best to allow you to be yourself and have fun, but when it became clear it went deeper, we thought it best to intervene.”

“By tearing me away from Star City in my senior year? Y’know, the place I grew up in,” Roy says, nodding sarcastically. “Where all my friends were? Yeah, no totally makes sense to remove me from my only fucking support system since the reservation.”

“We seem to remember this differently,” Dinah responds cooly.

“Bet we do.” Roy smiles humorlessly. It’s quiet as the heavy words sink down. Roy’s not quite finished, though. “You ripped me away from everything I’ve ever known just so at least I’d be under the Bat’s watchful eye, right? Because you both couldn’t stand the thought of having a fucking drug addict for an orphan, right? You wanted me to be like Dick, perfect, quiet, sober, so you made Bruce my fucking watchdog over at Gotham Academy. Isn’t that right? Thought he’d knock some sense into me? What kind of delusional ass motherfuckers are you?”

Lian looks up from the ground at her dad, obviously never having seen him so upset. You look at Jason, hoping for some sign of what to do, but he looks just as conflicted.

“Star City was where you were using, Roy!” Dinah interjects suddenly. “For god’s sake, we didn’t want you to have to pass by the streets you bought from on your way to school, Roy.” 

“We didn’t know what we were doing,” Ollie admits cautiously, “but we did it with our hearts in the right place.”

Dinah looks at you now as your earlier conversation comes to fruition with Ollie’s words.

“I’m not doing this in front of my kid anymore,” Roy says. The redhead scrunches up his face in irritation before easing it away with his fingers. “You're not my guardians anymore and haven't been for a long time, might I add."

“Guardians, sure. But you've always been a part of this family regardless of the system that brought you to us. We love you, son,” Ollie says. He sounds sincere and full of regret, leaving Roy’s hand to still between his brows. “All I’ve ever wanted was to do right by you, Roy. I wanted to be your Brave Bow, wanted to be your real father and I wasn’t any of those. Hell, I wasn’t even a good Ollie to you. I see that now and have for a while,” he walks over to Roy and places a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It wasn’t right of me to take you in when I wasn’t ready to be a parent, kid, but it doesn’t mean I love you any less.”

Roy lifts his head up, meeting Ollie head-on. He finally sighs, “I love you both. Even after the bullshi-”

“We should’ve handled it differently,” Ollie nods rapidly, “very differently. I didn’t know how to handle the situation and, for that, I’m so sorry, Roy. We just wanted to get you out of the place that was eating you alive so you could start over new. Bruce and Dick had absolutely nothing to do with it. We genuinely just thought we were doing what was best for you.” He looks over his shoulder to where Dinah’s slowly bouncing Connor in her arms. “We now realize we were wrong,” Ollie admits. He’s tearing up now and you can’t help but feel your throat tighten in response. “My beautiful boy, we were wrong.”

Roy’s voice is thick with tears as he finally faces his father, “That’s all I’ve ever wanted: an apology. To hear that you love me regardless of all the messed up shit I did. That’s all.”

“I love you, my boy,” Ollie holds him at arm's length, looking over Roy’s bashful form with pride before pulling him in for a bone-crushing hug, “always.”

“Always,” Roy says into his chest. He quickly wipes away any stray tears as they pull apart, brushing off imaginary dust on the front of his shirt as he clears his throat, “So, uh, you made your famous chili?” 

The edge of the room quickly dissipates, almost as if it’d never happened. It’s a complete 180 from the throw-downs and grudge matches the Waynes are infamous for. 

You look at Jason and swear he’s got to be thinking the same thing. 

“Think the spitfire can handle it?” Ollie winks your way as he ushers everyone into the kitchen.

You raise a questioning brow. What kind of chili denoted ‘handling’ of any sort?

“She’ll be fine. Right, baby?”

Oliver lifts the lid on a bean-ridden concoction that sends a singeing scent through the air. Your eyes unwittingly water as the spicy smell assaults your nostrils.

“Right,” you answer unconvincingly through the tears welling in your eyes.

How the fuck is Lian supposed to eat this shit? No, better question; how are you going to eat this shit? You don’t have to wonder long because Ollie and Roy are fighting over the spoon that, ultimately, ends up shoved in your mouth.

You wince, feeling the heat immediately and it’s…

Holy shit, it’s fucking amazing.

Ollie must see your eyes light up because he smirks at his wife, “Told ya the chili’s good, pretty bird.”

She just rolls her eyes before offering, “The taste is fine. It’s what happens after that’s a travesty.”

Ollie howls, slapping Dinah on the back as he doubles over. “Oh, she’s right, though, you know?” he wipes away a stray mirthful tear, “How many bathrooms did Bruce set you up with?”

“Three,” Jason says as he helps you and Roy set the table.

“Well, then,” Ollie beams as he dumps the steaming pot of chili in the center of the table, “dig in!”

•••

Joker.

He’s here.

Well, more accurately, you’re Joker.

Closely peering down into the pool of water below you, you see his maniacal face as if it’s your own.

There are more shapes in the reflection, though they remain as murky as the filth that stirs in the water surrounding you.

You know you’re dreaming, but, fuck, the images are so strong that it feels real…

You can practically taste the dank, mildewy stench that liters your nostrils. The ground beneath your feet feels sturdy, pressurized as if it’s your own feet pressing into the concrete below.

You wake up to Roy snoring in your ear, clutching your bare tit like it’s a lifeline. He’s hardly noticed your hard panting and, if anything, it only spurs his snoring on even more.

Jason, on the other hand, stirs in the intimate dawn light.

His hands slowly trail up and down your stomach as he blearily blinks awake.

“Ollie’s chili wake you up, babe?” Jason yawns lightly. “Or was it this fucking asshole’s sleep apnea?” You want to laugh, really, you do but your heart refuses to calm. He shifts onto his forearm, now more alert as he checks you over. Your name is a quiet whisper in the morning quiet of your bedroom, “What’s wrong?”

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

It feels different from the panic attacks you’ve had in the past.

It’s like you’re frozen. Your body is still under the influence of your horrifying dream and you can’t wake it.

“Roy,” Jason’s deep voice reverberates lowly in your room. Jason reaches across you to shake Roy awake. You want to stop him. You want to tell him you’re fine, but you can’t. “Roy, wake up.”

Roy awakens with a loud snort, blinking his eyes in the bright light that leaks through the curtains, “Wha?”

Move.

Please, just fucking move. You beg your body, pleading with all your might that you’ll be able to move before Roy truly wakes up and gets concerned.

You’re fine.

Everything’s fine.

“She won’t move,” Jason supplies. His tone is gentle, but worried as he and Roy talk over your tense body. 

“Panic attack?” Roy’s sleep-ridden voice slowly slips away as concern takes over.

“Dunno. I just woke up.” You feel Jason’s shrug more than you see it. “Can you help me elevate her?”

Hearing them talk about you like you’re not here only serves to freak you out further.

Roy’s hands gently join Jason’s as they shift your head to slide a pillow underneath.

You’re good.

Everything’s good.

Why can’t they see that?

No. 

Why can’t you show them?

“Focus on your movement on your fingertips, baby,” Roy’s sidled up beside you to coo in your ear, “then your knuckles, then your palms, then your wrists.” 

You feel him look up, most likely at Jason for what to do next.

“Imagine Roy trying to cook scones with Alfred,” Jason says hesitantly. It sounds like he’s not too sure of what he’s saying, but it’s out in the open now. 

“Sure,” Roy snorts lightly, “scones with Alfred at the manor. There’d be so much flour everywhere.” He’s taken to petting your hair now. “You and Jay would make fun of me and Alfred’d definitely make me mop after. I’d be cursing the whole time to the point I’d have to take out a loan to pay off my swear jar indictments.”

Jason slowly begins drawing tiny circles on your hip bone. 

You blink.

“That’s it, babe,” Jason’s soft voice caresses your being until it’s all you can focus on. “Come back to us.”

It’s as if you break the surface of water, coming up for air and gulping it down like it’ll somehow disappear.

“Control your breathing,” Roy says and gently places your hand on his chest to demonstrate a deep breathing technique. “Good girl.”

Every moment coming back down from your nightmare is agonizing hell. Put aside the embarrassment, you realize you’re now going to have to reveal everything. It’s so fucking embarrassing to have to look your lovers in the eyes and say, “Hey, Joker’s been in my head again. I want to die, but it’ll be alright!”

Well, not exactly to that effect, but still, you get the gist.

“Sorry,” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth. They both dote over you, telling you not to worry and asking if you’re alright, but you can hardly focus. All you can see is his face. “Just keep having these, like, nightmares or something. I’m really fine, though.”

They seem entirely unconvinced.

Surprisingly, it’s Jason who speaks first. He takes your hands within his big, calloused ones, “You can talk to us. Please talk to us.”

You stare down at your joined hands, then up into his emerald eyes, then over at Roy’s tired frown. “Okay,” you say slowly. How do you even explain this? “He’s, uh, been in my head.”

That’s a good start, you sarcastically think to yourself.

“Joker?” Roy asks, though he and Jason both seem to already know the answer. 

Both of them are sitting beside you in the mess of cotton and pillows, waiting for your response. 

“Yeah,” you respond dejectedly. You clutch at your duvet, bunching it up in your fists as you willingly allow the horrors to crawl back into your brain.

“How long?” Jason growls.

“Huh?” You look up, meeting his fury head-on. 

Why is he so upset?

“How long have you been keeping this from us?” he asks with his emerald ire sears deep into your soul.

“Jay,” Roy scoots over on the bed from behind you to place a calming hand on Jason’s bare thigh, “please. Not right now. It doesn’t need to get like that.” 

He’s treading carefully, but Joker’s always been a sore spot between you and Jason. Especially ever since he was sidelined by Bruce from saving you at the Wayne Gala your freshman year.

“She was doing this same shit at the manor, Roy. I’ve been biting my tongue for long enough,” he spits. His head whips your way now. “Do you trust us?”

You quirk a tired brow. “Is that really a question?”

You trust them enough to bare your body to them. You trust them enough to love them. Hell, you trust them enough to fight side by side with them. 

But to reveal your fears?

You sigh.

“Yes,” he glares, pushing the issue once again.

“With my life, apparently.”

He laughs humorlessly, crossing his arms and looking to the side, “Is that enough?”

You can’t do this right now.

“I don’t know. Is it?” you snark back. “You know, this seems like a really roundabout way of getting me to open up, Jason.”

“For fuck’s sake! There shouldn’t have to be any sort of way!” he exclaims before quieting down. It’s still early in the morning, but Lian would be up soon. “You should just feel like you can come and talk to us about things that are hurting you.”

“I’m not hurt!” you insist.  don’t know if you’re saying it to convince them or yourself, but no one seems convinced. You turn your gaze back to the crumpled blanket in your clutches.

“Baby,” Roy starts rubbing your leg, too, eyes going between you and Jason cautiously, “just talk to us. We were both really scared just now seeing you like that.”

You peer up into his verdant sincerity. “I’m sorry,” you say. You’re not able to meet Jason’s eyes, something he notices immediately.

“Stop apologizing,” his gruff voice startles your eyes to meet his gaze.

You look away first.

“Jason,” Roy groans, “please.”

“She knows I’m just upset because it’s him,” he says, looking at the side of your face as if gauging if you do or not.

The thing is, you do. But damn, you’re not up for this back and forth right now.

Your stiff body still hums with adrenaline, trembling all the way through to your unsteady fingertips.

“Just take a deep breath, baby,” Roy urges. His chapped lips kiss lightly at your shoulder while his light green eyes shoot Jason a warning look. 

Eventually, the shaking lessens and you reach over to take each of their hands within your own. You rub anxiously at the skin of their hands as you think of how best to explain the situation.

“Ever since the dockyard, I keep seeing him in my head. I don’t know if they’re continuations of my nightmares or what.” Your hair scatters across your shoulders as you shake your head. “And, I don’t know why, but every time it’s like I’m… him,” you trail off as you stop rubbing their hands. “I see the things that he sees.”

You don’t look up to see their faces, knowing you sound fucking insane.

“What kind of things?” Jason asks.

You look up into his hardened emerald eyes before continuing on warily, “At the manor, I saw the stem.” At this, Jason and Roy share an evaluating glance. “That and Joker escaping with,” you remove your hands from theirs as you try to think of the words, “like this hoard of just blurry figures.”

Their faces are grim. You’re just glad they’re actually taking you seriously. 

It’s taken you far too long to come clean and it instantly feels like a portion of the weight has been lifted from your chest.

“What did you see just now?”

You clear your throat uncomfortably as the dream comes back to you.

“Water,” you say.

“Water?” Roy repeats dubiously.

“It was murky,” you supply with a lame shrug.

“Murky water in Gotham,” Jason’s low morning voice rumbles deeply into the stillness of the room. “That really narrows it down.”

“I know it comes naturally to you,” you briefly look up at his unconvinced face before taking refuge in fiddling with the duvet again, “but you don’t always have to be such a dick."

Cue the ever-present sarcasm.

“Gee, I’ll keep that in mind.” 

There it is.

“It’s 5 in the fucking morning, loves,” Roy groans, tiredly falling backward to the mattress below. He seems just about as done with the direction of the conversation as you are. “Don’t you guys have a fucking ‘off’ button?” he pauses briefly before raising a fiery, interested brow. “Makeup sex?”

“Roy!” you and Jason both admonish him, simultaneously smacking him on his sides.

“What?!” Roy runs a tired hand down his face as if it’ll somehow wake him up more. “So much fucking tension, you’d think the two of you’d be ready to bang at a moment's notice.” He raises an interested fiery brow again as if somehow either of you will suddenly now be more into the idea. “So,” he trails off, “that’s a no on the makeup sex?”

“There’s nothing to make up!” Jason insists. “She kept shit from us, I got mad, she opened up. We’re good.” Regardless of his words, he appears to anxiously await your response, mimicking your fidgeting with the blanket. 

If you two hadn’t been moments from ripping each other’s throats out, Roy might just think the two of you looked cute. You’re both clearly worried about what the other thinks, but neither knows how to bring it up without butting heads.

“We’re good,” you agree.

“Cool,” he tries with a faux confidence you see right through.

“Cool,” you finish. You make to kiss him but, ultimately, hesitate.

Roy notices and won’t allow it. “Jay,” he nods his head in your direction.

He gets the idea but hesitates as well.

Your chemistry is palpable. It’s thick in the air between you in a way that makes you want to push back and flee at the same time. It’s affronting and repelling, similar to two like magnet-poles facing each other. 

He pushes through, regardless.

Jason swallows heavily, “Can I kiss you?”

You meet him halfway with a light smile, “Always.”

•••

At the last minute, Stephanie joins in on your reconnaissance mission. With two ex-Cadmus escapees, your team needs all the mental support it can get.

Arsenal’s stretching beside you as you wait outside the perimeter in the trees. He doesn’t seem particularly off; he hides it well enough, but you see the hidden tenseness that lies beneath each movement he makes and every word he holds.

It’s pitch black, aside from the emanating lights from the large cinderblock facility. It’s a normal looking building, ugly if anything, which makes it somehow seem scarier. The place could easily blend in with the normal office buildings downtown, though what goes on inside definitely doesn’t scream normal.

You, Red Hood and Arsenal trekked up one side of the mountain while Superboy, Red Robin and Spoiler took the other. You reconvened in a small coverage of forest before you attempted to breach the research center.

“How are you feeling?” Spoiler cautiously eyes Superboy from the corner of her mask. Red Robin seems like he wanted to ask the same, shifting anxiously from beside the blonde.

“Definitely not great to be back,” the Kryptonian sighs deeply, sparring Arsenal a quick sympathetic glance, “but someone’s gotta show you fucks around.”

“Wouldn’t Roy-” Everyone’s heads immediately shoot in your direction at the slip-up. “I mean, Arsenal,” you correct yourself, “know the way around?”

Red Hood shifts from behind you, causing you to glance back at him to avoid Arsenal’s distant stare. He’s looking forward towards the lab, but his eyes are somewhere else entirely. 

You know the feeling.

You don’t have to see through Jason’s helmet to know he’s thinking the same.

“He was knocked out for most of the escape,” Red Hood supplies finally.

“Hood’d be more help.” Arsenal shrugs too casually for the heaviness of the moment. “S’not like they let me out of the tube to go on walks.”

It’s tense.

Everyone goes back to their pre-mission tasks quietly.

“The place sticks with you, though,” Superboy says. “The smell, the lights,” Arsenal’s nauseated look seems to confirm this. Regardless of how hard he tries to hide how much this affects him, Superboy’s words seem to be the final nail in the coffin. “Never knew their names, but I remember the faces of the scientists and Genomorphs clear as day.”

The scientists and the what now???

“Yeah,” comes Arsenal’s rough response. That’s all he says, making it clear that the subject is over.

Red Robin looks to Spoiler, who looks to Superboy, noting how lost in thought he appears to be. It’s clear he wants to comfort Arsenal, but if the archer isn’t willing, it’s obvious Superboy isn’t going to push. However, the blonde and raven next to him seem more concerned with his reaction than Arsenal’s. 

It’s really cute how close the three of them have gotten. Feels like just yesterday you were keeping up with Tim and Stephanie’s relationship via Damian’s gossip. Not to mention your first time meeting Konnor at the college party where you’d first kissed Roy. Though, you still find it hard to believe that Tim and Konnor managed to become friends despite the fact that they were fighting over the same girl. You think back to your odd yet similar predicament. Okay, maybe not that hard to believe, but still. 

Aside from a few rustles and light whispers from your crew, it’s dead silent as you wait for the guards to change shifts. When the time finally comes, you set to work on your burner laptop.

Your fingers fly across the keyboard at the same time your group closes in on the guard station at the back entry.

“I just hacked their security systems,” you whisper, proudly turning your screen around to show them. It had only taken a few moments and even Arsenal seems impressed by your Flash-like speed.

From below, you hear one of the main security details scream out, “Some dude just hacked our security systems!”

You turn around to face the crew with a deadpan expression.

Spoiler snorts, “Sexist ass, scientist motherfuckers.”

Arsenal lets loose a light laugh, but you know it’s taking everything within him to just remain mentally present. You shoot him a sympathetic smile you’re sure only Red Hood sees.

With the security cameras playing yesterday’s footage, Spoiler and Red Robin tag team a group of guards before they can reach for their radios.

“We only have five minutes before they’ll be walkie-ing down for a check-in,” Spoiler brushes imaginary dust off of her purple suit. “We need to get a move on.”

Superboy nods, seeming to pick up on incoming noises as he quickly ushers the group into a dark corner. Your back presses against the cold exterior wall as two stray guards goof around on their way to the front station where the other guards lay knocked out and tied up.

Not good.

Red Robin wastes no time in producing two marble-sized orbs from his utility belt and throwing them in their direction. Light blue smoke filters into the night and Red Robin warns everyone to cover their mouths and noses. You watch as the first guard slowly kneels, then the second before they’re both passed out on the ground.

Arsenal quickly grabs both their lab cards as Spoiler and you drag their bodies into the shadows you’d just sought refuge in. 

“We’ll need to split up,” Red Hood’s robotic voice warbles. He doesn’t need to dole out teams for everyone to know who’s going with who, but you all need to know where you’re going. “My team takes the North part of the facility, your team South. We need to find that stem and anything else that could help with figuring out the serum’s chemical composition.” 

Everyone nods, steeling yourselves for possible conflict as Arsenal uses one of the keycards to gain entrance.

“You’ll probably need this,” Arsenal hands Red Robin the other lab keycard. 

It’s quiet.

The sickening fluorescent lights grant no secrecy as you wander further into the maze of hallways.

There’s one hallway that’s completely blocked off, so that’s the one you decide to go down. You duck under the caution tape and carefully traverse around the random building supplies that create an obstacle course. 

A heavy metal door blocked off by steel beams is at the end of the hall. The keycard looks busted, but there’s a makeshift lock strung through the double door’s handles. Arsenal picks the lock in under a minute.

All of you are on high alert after the lack of, well, anyone in the area. 

What lies beyond the vault door is a large elevator.

The three of you look at each other briefly before climbing inside. Red Hood picks the lowest floor, Sublevel 53 and steadies you as the sonic speed of the elevator shoots downward at a stomach-twisting speed.

“Anyone else concerned by the lack of guards?” you ask.

Neither have to say anything. The grim look on Arsenal’s face says it all.

You arrive in a white sanitation quarantine room and quickly push through to the next room. It ends up being a wide open, empty lab, though it appears well lived-in. Post-it notes are scattered across the various papers and stray beakers have been left in the sink. Further inspection shows lab coats strewn haphazardly across the fancy rollie-chairs as if someone had just left for a ten-minute break. It sets your nerves on edge.

You push past the chairs, absentmindedly thumbing through some papers as you go along, but you ultimately head toward the giant wall-length computer set up against the furthest wall. 

Arsenal and Red Hood do a thorough sweep of the floor while you plug into the mainframe. The system is difficult, one of the hardest ones you’ve ever had to crack, but you know you’ll be able to. The long tips of your costumed nails clack dutifully against each key, sounding similar to a gangster shooting off a Tommy gun.

“We’re in a lab,” Hood’s voice crackles into your comm system. Arsenal sidles up to you, crossing his arms across his chest as he leans against the large desk to watch you work. “What’s your position?”

There’s a beat of silence that’s occupied only by your hands flying across the keyboard before Spoiler responds, “In some sort of underground greenhouse.”

“What floor?”

“Sublevel 35,” she responds.

That’s the inverse of the floor you’re on now. This could be a good sign.

A static sets across your earpiece before Red Robin’s fuzzy voice breaks in and out, “W- found… stem.”

“You found the stem?” Arsenal tries to make sense of the message, but the connection is steadily getting worse. “Five minutes, meet at the rendezvous point,” he repeats himself a few more times before the comm system cuts out completely. 

“Guys,” you call them over, “I think I found what we came here for.”

Arsenal turns around to better face the screen while Red Hood slowly walks over, trying to make sense of the files in front of him as he does.

“Poison Ivy mentioned them using a protein,” you say as you motion at the screen labeled ‘Plant Protein JK-2.’ “Looks like they’re trying to find a way to make it water soluble or something.” Your eyes rapidly scan across the numerous files, widening with each new twist and turn Cadmus’ information takes you on. “That can’t be right,” you say as you scan over the last document just to be sure of what you’re seeing. “It seems like they’re also hoping the protein can work in conjunction with a disperser of sorts?” you trail off in confusion.

“A microwave emitter,” Red Hood puts his hands on either side of you, leaning over your smaller body to get a closer look, “for something called Clean Energy, LLC.” 

That name. You remember clearly seeing it on the vaulted door back when you toured with Luke and Jon, but… Why would Cadmus have equipment from Wayne Enterprise?

Your program is still uncovering information, albeit at a crawling pace, leaving you to tap your sharp nails with impatience.

"They're not going to believe the video loop forever," Arsenal warns.

After what seems like forever, a new set of documents pop up on the screen. Your brows furrow under your mask as you try to make sense of the jargon, but it's entirely too vague and too specific at the same time.

Arsenal seems to be in the same boat.

"It's obviously a participation contract, but for what?" you question, meeting his confused gaze.

The redhead just shakes his head, puzzled as he looks back at the screen. "None of this other information makes any sense either."

Before you can think more about it, the elevator suddenly dings. You glance back quickly at the screen one last time to confirm as a squad of tens of Cadmus officers flood into the room with their guns drawn.

“GET ON THE GROUND!”

“DROP YOUR WEAPONS!”

Your head snaps from side to side, waiting for a signal, any signal, or something telling you what to do. It never comes.

Fuck. 

You’re going to have to think on your heels. Luckily, the three of you have been training nonstop ever since you got your costume, so you feel more than capable. Scared, 100%, but capable, nonetheless.

“You are trespassing in a government facility,” the main officer warns as he walks forward slowly with his gun aimed directly at Red Hood’s head. “Surender now and no one gets hurt.”

Where have you heard that one before? Oh, yeah, when your parents said it and lied.

Arsenal makes to lift his hands in surrender and you wonder if you should do that same. In the seconds during your hesitation, he makes the decision for everyone. With great speed, he loads his crossbow with a smoke grenade followed by a smoke bomb and sends them flying. The combination of arrows blinds and then clouds the room upon impact, giving you all the cover you need.

You feel their steady hands remain on you as the three of you sprint into the hallway. Luckily, none of the officers followed, allowing the three of you to board the now empty elevator.

Red Hood fires off a few shots at the guards that have caught on to your escape, but a few get too close as the doors continue to close slowly.

“Arsenal,” Red Hood calls. All the while, he covers you with his body, pushing you against the closest wall of the elevator car.

From only that one word, Arsenal springs into action, drawing one final arrow that unleashes a highly reactive, fast drying, industrial polymer that encases and hardens around the group of advancing men.

The three of you stand panting as the solid doors finally thud shut and the car makes its fast ascent. 

“Holy shit,” you breathe. You’re running your gloved hands up and down the expanse of Red Hood’s body armor as your adrenaline settles upon your vibrating body like a static-like buzz. “Poison Ivy was nothing compared to this shit.”

“You say it like it’s exciting,” Arsenal replies with a quirk of his lips, though his eyes remain distant.

Hood briefly turns off his voice modulator as the floors continue to quickly click by. “Prepare yourselves.”

Bows and guns drawn, the three of you await whatever waits beyond those heavy doors.

Ding!

Waves of higher-level security are lined up at the ready.

You swear you see what looks like a pale, big-headed monkey with horns hobbling inside a panel in the wall, but you can’t be sure. Your heart’s beating too fast for you to make sense of anything other than ducking and punching as you fight your way out of the elevator car. Too many bodies are piling up and Red Hood keeps having to re-trigger the door motion sensors to keep the heavy metal doors from closing on the three of you.

It’s not the most opportune position to be stuck in, let’s just put it that way.

Finally, Red Hood laces his gloved fingers together, which you use to backflip off of. The momentum sends you flying over top the rest of the officers and allows you to strike from behind.

With you out of the car, the men are forced to scatter, leaving an opportune moment for your partners to bulldoze their way into the hallway.

Red Hood immediately moves to cover you. You watch from the corner of your mask as he lands haymakers on any motherfuckers who stand in his way of reaching you.

“Hood, your six,” you warn, causing him to duck as you jab forward with your left hand. The power of your fist alone is enough to shatter through the visor on his helmet and reach his now unprotected face.

Red Hood pops back up. “Thanks, babe.”

He seems like he wants to say something else but instead grabs you by both of your arms and spins you around to take a bullet for you. It’s romantic. Though, knowing he wears a heavier bullet-proof vest than most cops means that it makes more sense for him to take the hit, but… still romantic, nevertheless.

“That was close,” you breathe out unsteadily. 

His sturdy grip around your biceps vanishes as he raises his guns to keep the advancing officers at bay.

“I don’t think I’d mind getting closer, Cardinal.”

At the sound of him using your heroine alias, you beam. “How much longer you think this bullshit will take?” you ask, finishing your sentence by grabbing the head of the nearest guard to you and flinging him into one of his buddies.

Red Hood humors you, motioning to the growing pile of passed out bodies. “30 minutes tops,” he teases.

You can’t help but throw your head back and laugh, feeling like you’re in one of the old comics you used to pour over endlessly. 

You advance on your lover slyly, never once faltering as he continues to fire off round after round. You feel someone advancing on you from behind and seamlessly spin around to take him down with a roundhouse before facing Red Hood again. 

Your claws trickle up his body armor, stopping only at his thick breastplate. He follows the action easily, though he never once misses his shot, “As soon as we’re finished, you can get as close to me as you like, Red.” 

“What happened to fucking heads in the game?!” Arsenal slides over to the action, shooting off a quick succession of arrows as he does. 

“You’re just mad you’re not getting felt up, too. Don’t lie,” Red Hood’s monotonous warble manages.

One moment, Red Hood is pummeling half-beaten guards your way to finish off, and the next… well.

You turn suddenly at the sound of a deep grunt, startling backward when you turn and are met with two stocky guards. You back up with raised fists, bumping into Arsenal’s familiar warmth as you do.

“Where’s Hood?” Arsenal has his head slightly turned so he can speak to one side of your face.

You shake your head, turning to do the same. “He was behind me. DUCK!” you warn.

The two of you duck at the same time and manage to avoid a round of bullets.

“Shit,” he curses at the same time the guards decide they’ve had enough of your conversation. You’re both surrounded as heavy-armored men swarm around the two of you like prey. “I can’t get taken again.” Arsenal’s panicking, making sporadic swings and holding nothing back. “I can’t,” he says. His voice begins to shake as the outnumbering amount of remaining guards close in.

You steel yourself, ready to take on the brunt of men who seem distracted by your partner’s frantic state. You claw your way between the men, ducking and dodging their heavy fists as you knock their guns from their hands.

“I won’t let them,” you pant, hoping you can keep good on your promise. This is the first bout of the night, but the constant hailstorm of fists coupled with Arsenal’s panic is dragging all the energy you’ve got. “But I need you to get your head back in the game.”

You do a flip over a guard who was taking aim at Arsenal. You grab at the shoulders of his bulletproof vest and tug down with might of your descent in a way that sends him sprawling halfway across the room. His gun clatters to the floor and you watch in horror as one of the men you’d just disarmed picks it up. The man aims and shoots so quickly that you almost don’t dodge the bullet sent millimeters away from your arm.

You hastily duck out of the way, dodging another close call, but you know your luck will run out soon if you continue to flee like this.

Luckily, Arsenal seems to realize this and comes to just in time to protect you. He takes mere seconds to draw his bow to unleash a flash grenade that distracts them enough for you to flip over the two advancing guards in front of you.

You land behind them, kicking one in the back of the leg where you know it’ll give him a muscle spasm and the other on the tailbone where you know it’ll ache like a motherfucker. 

It’s loud now.

The ugly sound of grunts, horrible cries of agony and the sickening squelch of fists against raw flesh fill the sterile, echoing hallway.

You’re so caught up in ensuring that your stance is correct and that you’re protecting your vulnerable areas that you don’t hear Arsenal’s muffled cry for help. Rather, you vaguely feel Arsenal’s presence disappear from behind you just as you feel Red Hood join you. His ragged breathing startles you as you take in his beaten state. You fend off a majority of the men to allow him a moment to rest, feeling a plethora of questions flooding your brain.

Where had Red Hood gone to?

Where is Arsenal now?

With everyone dropping like flies, you can’t help but wonder if you were going to disappear next…

Two men charge at you at once and you duck out of the way at the last second so that they tumble into each other instead.

“Hood,” you wheeze, turning just in time to see him body-slamming the last guard to the ground.

So far, no alarms have sounded, but you don’t know how much longer that’ll last with the number of bodies your team has been piling. 

“Where’s Arsenal?” he asks in a panic. Red Hood stalks over to you, quickly checking you over, it seems, without even realizing it. 

“Don’t know,” you respond, shaking your head quickly. You can’t see it, but you know his face is grim. Your stomach settles uncomfortably, knowing you’ve undoubtedly let him down.

There’s no time to linger on your inner doubts as Red Hood takes off. 

You follow behind his frantic form as he searches the endless maze of hallways splayed out in front of you. After finding no further clues, you double back to the original hallway. You try to think back to where you were positioned when you felt him leave when it hits you.

You motion for Red Hood to follow you, something he does easily.

“It almost got me,” Red Hood warns ominously. He secures the hallway before motioning you forward. “Didn’t feel shit until it started dragging me.”

It?

He must be so caught up in memories of whatever happened last time he was here that he’s not thinking straight. You need to get him out of this funk and back in the game.

Without Hood’s guidance, you’ll be all on your own in this hellish laboratory.

“You’re not alone this time,” you put a reassuring hand on Red Hood’s shoulder, “I’m right here with you.”

He shrugs it off almost immediately, leaving you feeling dejected. The action alone lets you know you’ve definitely let him down.

Great.

With Jason, it was starting to feel like one step forward and two steps back: this morning being the step forward and now being the two steps back.

That’s all you have to say before the two of you are off again, searching each wing for any indication of Arsenal. Regardless of your hurt feelings, you follow after his long gait, making sure to check your six and stay alert even at his fast pace.

Red Robin, Superboy and Spoiler round the corner right as you feel your heels lift from the ground and a silencing hand (?) cover the mouth portion of your mask.

•••

Your head is underwater.

No, literally.

You’re somehow floating in water.

You can only manage to blink your eyes open for a couple of blurry seconds before the sting of the liquid forces them closed again.

The fuzzy image of the clock across from you shows it’s been nearly three hours since you’ve been taken. At least, you think. Each time you open your eyes, your vision becomes more and more clouded with whatever liquid you’re suspended in.

Muffled voices ripple around you, along with animalistic growls.

If you could furrow your brows, you would.

Whatever had grabbed you obviously hadn’t been human, coupled with Jason calling his captor ‘it,’ you’re not sure what the fuck is in this room with you.

Nor, you realize, do you have any idea what you’re in.

You can’t turn your body, only having the ability to twitch your fingers and eyelids, but you’re pretty sure Roy’s right beside you.

You’re also pretty sure that you’re naked.

“There’s evidence of two subjects in this tube.” You hear a man’s voice clear as day. From the sounds of it, they must be directly in front of your… tube? “The original specimen is showing signs of symbiosis without ever having had the latest two compositions. Further study with her could prove useful.”

“What’s the status of the test subjects for the serum finalized yesterday?”

“Still a week out before we can begin, sir.”

“That won’t do,” comes a dark voice, much deeper than any of the other chatter. You hear a loud clank, then whirring as they jostle your tank around. “Inject the latest JK-2 serums into the original specimen. Him too-" Who’s him?? “We’ll take all the free subjects we can get. Monitor the responses, then call the boss.”

You feel a cold rush race across the expanse of your encased skin, sending shivers across your body as the liquid settles into and fills your veins.

“First injection is complete, sir.”

You’re so used to being injected at this point that it almost doesn’t phase you.

Almost.

Surprisingly, your legs kick out, ringing out in immediate, unbearable pain as they come into contact with what feels like thick glass. You try to move your arms, but only your fingers choose to cooperate as your body begins to shut down in a familiar terror.

Before you can completely surrender to your suffocating fear, you hear a loud boom, feeling debris impact your tank. Soon, the liquid blanketing you seeps through the cracks, leaving your body heavier and heavier as more continues to leak out. Your skin is starkly pierced by the prickly remains of your prison as your lifeless body leaks like a puddle to the steel floor below.

You’re half-lucid, half-panicked when sturdy arms wrap around your soaked body.

The tubes forced down your throat are carefully removed before you’re being hauled over someone’s shoulder. 

It’s as if all your previous injections have granted you some sort of immune response against Joker’s torturous serum. No matter how much he tinkers with it, the fear seems to last shorter and shorter, with the hysteria lessening to that of nothing. However, you’re still fighting off the pulse-pounding effects of the injection, leaving you lucid with a fatigued pain settling deep into your bones.

No matter how quickly the other effects have worn off, the pain and mental toll still remain, fogging up your instincts.

With your breathing back to normal, you see that Hood has you thrown over his shoulder, sturdy hand around your ass, while a naked Arsenal wraps his arm around Hood’s neck for support.

Roy.

"Inject him, too."

Had Roy really been right beside you that whole time? You fucked up over and over again tonight and this was another prime example of this. You promised Roy you wouldn’t let them take him again and yet…

You do feel a minuscule amount of your edge ebb knowing that, at the very least, he’s safe, though.

Red Robin quickly takes up the remainder of Arsenal’s weight while Spoiler makes a grab for your discarded suits.

Superboy’s trying his best to hold off what seems like the entirety of Cadmus security while the rest of you shuffle to safety.

Red Hood Hands Spoiler a handful of clanking items that she secures against the remains of the lab. She rushes to join you just as the room you and Arsenal were in explodes in a loud, angry cacophony of rubble. Any samples they may have kept from the two of you would stand no chance of surviving a blast like that.

With Superboy fighting off squadrons on his own, it’s not looking good. Plus, you’re not sure how much longer you can stay awake for.

It sounds like war.

The previous quiet that enveloped the lab is completely gone as ravaging screams and deafening gunpowder leak into the room like smog.

When all seems lost, a man in a gold helmet skids onto the scene. 

His shield staves off the never-ending barrage of bullets coming from the hoards of guards, “This way!”

The man wastes no time in scooping you up into his arms, so Red Hood’s better able to fight. You start to protest, until you look up through the curtain of your wet hair to see the golden helmet of the man holding you.

“Roy?!”

This man seems to be a beefed-up replica of Roy. You blink again just to be sure of what, no, who, you’re seeing to confirm that, yes, this motherfucker looks just like your baby.

“Jim,” the Roy replica smiles down at you, blushing when he realizes your compromising state, “but you can call me Guardian.”

Your head is cold and pounding with the worst migraine of your life. You can’t 100% tell if your head is actually spinning because fuck if it doesn’t feel like it.

Your pulse quickens, seeming to match Guardian’s steadfast gait as he runs toward… well, you can’t really tell. The blurred edge around your vision slowly clouds in until it’s all you can see. You know you’re losing it now.

The battle sounds far away, though you can feel the kickback from Guardian’s arm each time he fires off his gun.

Your visions suddenly become stronger and strike against your skull like a mallet.

Laughing, smoke, Joker.

An army.

Hood doesn’t hesitate to follow the clone, barreling down the hallway with a dripping, nude Arsenal supported in his arms. You want to say Arsenal looks pathetic when you realize you’re in the exact same state.

“It’s a dead end,” Red Hood exclaims, turning around to fire on the advancing swarm of guards with his free hand. 

Meanwhile, Guardian sets you against the side of Red Hood that isn’t occupied by Arsenal and set to work, typing away at his holographic wrist-computer. “That’s what they want you to think,” he says and smiles pointedly as the panel of the wall splits in two, revealing a raised, metal tunnel. You think back to that weird monkey creature you saw using the same type of panel earlier. If you’d been in your sane mind, you might’ve asked him what it was, but, as is, you’re lucky to be breathing. “Get in!” he urges.

Hood steps inside first, lifting Arsenal’s weakened body in behind him with help from Red Robin. 

“Here,” Spoiler says as she offers Guardian a hand.

Guardian takes it gratefully as he cradles you in his arms.

“Superboy!” Red Robin calls, signaling for him to make his escape. Spoiler anxiously looks up, nearly losing her grip on you as she watches Superboy barely make it in time.

He slams the entrance shut behind you right as the hoards of guards and odd-looking creatures round the corner.

The silence is eerie.

Your ears are still ringing from the battle in the quiet echo of your team’s shuffling.

“We’ve got keep moving,” Guardian suddenly says. His voice is grave and his eyes are filled with the wild worry of a cornered animal. “They’re closing off the exits to the genomorph tunnels as we speak. We're going to be stuck in here.” He motions down to screen where outlets are turning from green to red.

“Where does this side of the tunnel face?” Spoiler points to her right as your group continues to sprint along the metallic tunnels.

Guardian stumbles in his gate before clearing his throat, “It, uh, doesn’t say.”

“Then that’s our way out,” Red Hood’s tone is final.

You hear Superboy asking Spoiler if she’s injured followed by Red Robin’s quick quip and Spoiler’s enchanted laugh.

You lose yourself in their moment of calm, allowing it to wash over you. It works for a while. The constant thrum of panic has somewhat waned, yet still lingers like a reminder across every inch of your naked body.

Suddenly, everyone screeches to an abrupt halt.

Your eyes blink open in a brief moment of strength only to see you’ve all hit a dead end.

“How?” Guardian starts, only to be cut off by Superboy’s confidence.

“Nothin’ I can’t break through,” Superboy insists. The Kryptonian cracks his knuckles with a small smirk thrown Red Robin and Spoiler’s way. “Nothin’ I haven’t done before either,” he adds bitterly as he faces the metal wall.

Red Hood’s taken off his brown leather jacket to offer you a bit of modesty, but it’s not much.

“Cardinal.” Hood’s turned off his voice modulator.

Jason.

“Yes,” he says. “Stay with me.”

“I need to figure out if there’s a hollow point I can work with.”

Your eyes slip shut once again as the rhythmic thumping lulls you back into a light sleep.

“OOF!” someone sounding suspiciously like Red Robin exclaims. “Kon, why’d you stop?”

“I hear something.” Meanwhile, you can practically hear him concentrating, even through your haze. “They’re going to start blowing the tunnels.”

“Then this is as far as I can take you.” Guardian, you recognize in your muddled thoughts. You hear the robotic tapping from his wrist computer. “They’ve surrounded all exits. I’ll try to hold them off as best I can.”

“Shit,” Red Hood’s voice rumbles across your skin.

“Kon,” Spoiler sounds like she’s panicking now, but you have no idea why. Your body’s never felt more relaxed. Your mind, however? That’s a whole different story.

Your visions come in waves, right now, quite literally.

You see waves, water. You can practically feel the droplets against your naked skin.

“I’ll bust us out of here, don’t worry.” You blearily open your eyes to see Superboy searching the wall with splayed hands. “Besides, I think I finally found the spot. This area seems structurally weak enough for me to break through, but once we break it, how are we getting out? I can’t fly,” he states.

“Break first, escape second,” Red Hood supplies, staring down at you with pity.

“You’re the boss,” Superboy says with a shrug, watching as Hood caresses your face, then Arsenal’s. 

The Kryptonian clears his throat and motions for everyone to get back.

Guardian activates his shield as the raven slams his fists against the metal, warping it with each titan-like clash of his strength.

You black out. 

Your eyes close without your permission, sealing shut with images of Superboy crashing down the mountain atop which Cadmus once stood.

Red Hood’s gun startles you awake again.

“Guardian,” you whisper helplessly, watching as the last of the lab crumbles into the river and is carried off with the rest of the debris. 

Whatever serum they used has already worn off, though the pangs of your visions still ring out violently against your skull. It gets to the point where it’s nearly impossible to tell what’s a vision and what’s real.

“We’ve got to keep moving,” Red Robin says. He sounds calm and panicked at the same time as he helps you stand.

Meanwhile, Red Hood tries to wake Arsenal, but to no avail.

“Arsenal was in there longer than I was,” your words feel incoherent as if you’re speaking through a drunken stupor. “I didn’t see what they did to him, but I was injected.” 

You pull your arms through Red Hood’s jacket and zip it up. The length means the edge of his jacket just barely covers the lower half of your ass, but you’re not stopping to shimmy into your skin-tight suit right now.

Red Hood growls lowly, quickly snatching his helmet from his head, “They didn’t deserve mercy.”

“I’d hardly call their base collapsing mercy,” Red Robin chimes hesitantly.

Red Hood ignores him, electing to trek forward with Arsenal thrown over his shoulder.

The sun has just begun to rise, leaking vibrant pinks and melty yellows across the horizon. Crickets chirp out as the songbirds rise from their nests to greet the dawn.

You feel yourself lulling off to the peace of early morning noise. That is until Jason’s anger suddenly lights up your ears. Seeing as you’d been steadily nodding off, your head snaps up in alert at his deep grumble.

Apparently, he wasn’t going to ignore Red Robin.

“Mercy,” he mutters with a humorous laugh as if he’s been mulling over the word. “Fuck you, Tim. I’ll tell you what, it’s mercy compared to the hell I would’ve shown ‘em,” you watch as he suddenly spits on the ground with a snarl. “Fucking COWARDS!” He stops now and you halt your limping to stare at him. “I’D’VE FUCKING KILLED THEM. WRUNG THEIR FUCKING NECKS ONE BY FUCKING ONE, TIM. I DON’T GIVE A FUCK,” he spits. Jason looks downright psychotic now. “I’d do it. I’d watch as their pathetic lives left their eyes and I’d fucking laugh. I’d be so fucking happy, you have no fucking idea. Pathetic, soulless SCUM.”

Everyone stares at him in shock, watching as he angrily pants. His fists are clenched as he burns holes in the ground below him.

“Jason,” Tim trails off softly. It’s as if he’s still surprised by the outburst because he can’t seem to think of anything else to say beyond that.

Field names be damned.

“You and these fucking bats, you’ve all got this dumb fucking antiquated code of morality,” Jason grits out. “Guess what, Timmy? I don’t have that fucking code and I don’t think I ever will. This is my mercy; take it or leave it. Tell Bruce to disown me again, I don’t care. Not this time.” He’s put his heart out on the line, revealed all his cards and yet, his brother remains silent.

It’s answer enough for Jason, it seems, who merely resituates Roy and starts away from the river.

“No use in talking about it now,” Steph mutters as she examines the horrifying remains of the lab. 

The entire body of water is littered with large, crumbling portions of a now unrecognizable building.

Even in your haze, you know your group doesn’t have much time to hang around. You need to get moving.

Moving.

You attempt a step of your own and quickly fall forward into what may as well have been steel but was, in all actuality, just Conner. He calmly picks you up at the bend of your bare knees with ease before motioning for Tim and Steph to follow him onward.

Even though he’s suited up, you see Tim so clearly now as he helplessly stares at his brother.

Tim’s mouth opens, then shuts before ultimately trudging forward. “Let’s go,” he says

Jason mumbles something incoherent. Nonetheless, you can hear the tears in his voice as Conner finally catches up to him. “This whole thing was fucking bullshit, man,” he says while wiping angrily at his domino mask. “No one should’ve been taken.”

“We did our best,” is what Conner ultimately replies. His tone is unsure, like he doesn’t know if what he says will set Jason off again or not.

It doesn’t.

“Yeah,” Jason says, “but was it enough?”

From there, the trek continues.

Soon, it becomes obvious to the group that Jason’s lagging behind. It seems Roy’s added weight, coupled with Jason’s own injuries, has left him trudging a few feet behind everyone else.

No one says anything, but you can see Steph, Tim and Conner all seemingly having a conversation through their eyes alone. It reminds you of your high school years when Jason and Roy would do much of the same and how it’s evolved to now include all three of you.

At some point, Conner offers to take Arsenal from Jason, but he refuses. “No, this is my burden.” You’ve never heard him sound so grim.

Your heart sinks. “Jay,” you say dazedly.

“No,” he says and you watch as his bottom lip wobbles slightly. “Don’t you dare try to fucking lie to me. Not when they almost stole everything from me again.”

You stare at him from over Conner’s shoulder, tapping him to let you down. He obliges but looks after your wobbly form with concern.

“It’s not your burden to bear alone.” Even though it’s already hard enough to hold yourself up, you limp over and shoulder the rest of Roy’s weight. “And I’m not fucking lying about that, Jay,” you insist.

Tim, Connor and Steph stare back at the three of you, looking at each other before continuing on.

Though it takes longer, you and Jason carry Roy’s weight all the way back to Gotham’s outskirts. You’re met by Jon and Damian and two parked cars.

Upon seeing you, Jon flies over and scoops a naked Roy from both of you, safely depositing him in the car he and Damian had exited from. Damian watches the action distastefully, undoubtedly annoyed that Roy’s bare ass cheeks are sitting on his Italian leather.

Jason wastes no time in lifting you up bridal style to carry you to the road.

“The fuck happened?” Damian asks, looking the five of you over with a quirked brow.

“We’ll brief you on the ride back,” Tim says. He can’t stop looking back at you and Jason, though. You meet his gaze only to have him smile lightly and help Stephanie into the car.

“I call shotgun!” Jon calls as he hops into the passenger seat beside his older brother.

Damian ‘tchs,’ looking over you and Jason with a distasteful look. His mood seems to soften when he realizes Jason isn’t in the mood for their usual tiff and surprisingly backs off.

“I suppose I’d get stuck with you three,” Damian says lightly as he and Jason help you into the back seat of the Batmobile. 

Lian was going to be so upset you were in here without her. 

Jason ignores him in favor of glancing back at you and Roy briefly. He, ultimately, settles his gaze out the window.

The engine booms to life and Damian waits for Conner’s car to start up before he revs the engine once more. It all seems to go largely ignored by Jason.

“Cadmus is gone.”

“Meaning you killed them all?” Damian sneers. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t drop the three of you off at Blackgate?”

The car zooms off at a speed that sends your body backward against your seat.

“Building collapsed,” Jason closes his eyes, “all on its own.” Jason’s statement lingers in the air as Damian sorts out the information in his head.

Finally, Damian clears his throat, “Fine, then.” His eyes flicker over your discarded costume in the rearview, obviously looking to change the topic. “Costume held up well, I presume?”

“Would’ve kept me nice and cozy in the incubation chamber if they hadn’t stripped me.” The resounding silence that follows makes your stomach sink. “You were right, Dami. Hell, you both were,” you sigh, feeling his gaze on you in the mirror, but you refuse to meet it. “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this.”

Inside the chamber was unlike anything you’d ever experienced.

It’s just another experience to add to the vault of terrifying images that already keep you up at night. 

Great.

One thing you haven’t figured out is what they meant by two subjects. You were definitely going to be taking a pregnancy test as soon as you get back home.

“I think you’re conveniently misconstruing our words,” Damian responds without missing a beat. Jason turns his head in surprise, not having expected Damian to stick up for him. “And I think you’re beating yourself up for nothing. Everyone gets captured at some point. Not everyone gets out safe. You did well.”

You blush, ducking your head from Jason’s view. “Thanks,” you respond earnestly.

Jason’s the one clicking his tongue now. “From threatening to drop her off at Blackgate to congratulating her,” Jason trails off, staring at the tiny quirk of Damian’s mouth with disdain. “Whatever,” he huffs.

From beside you, Roy finally begins to stir. 

He sucks in an aching breath, nearly choking on it as he begins to thrash around. Roy searches around frantically until his eyes finally rest on you and Jason, “Wha?”

Relief floods you and you immediately begin to caress his freckled face. “We’re safe,” you tell him. “We’re in the Batmobile.” 

He nods blearily. After a few moments, he sits up slowly, straightening himself in his seat with a feigned nonchalance.

Whatever guilt Jason was feeling revives itself in everything he does. “They’re gone, Roy,” he says simply. He looks like he’s waiting for Roy to yell at him. No, like he’s waiting for both of you to start telling him he fucked up.

“Got me outta there a second time, Jay?” Roy tries to joke, but his tone falls flat.

You immediately start rubbing your hand up and down his sweat-soaked chest. You can tell he wants to ask about the nudity, but seeing you also naked leaves him distracted. It’s not so much comfort for him as it is for you, trailing your fingers through his coarse chest hair and over the divots of his abs as if to prove he’s actually here.

You really thought you’d lost him.

“I let you get taken a second time, Roy,” he laments. Jason faces forward, not daring to meet Roy’s concerned gaze. “This time, I let her down, too. Again.”

The finality in Jason’s tone forces Roy’s eyes to face your still slightly damp form. You know that with your wet hair, you probably look like a wet rat in Jason’s oversized jacket, but Roy looks past this and seemingly more. His eyes linger over your naked body with a cold distance, seeming to realize that both of you had gotten captured.

You won’t allow him to stew in self-pity, either. Despite your tiredness and the way your head pounds, despite the body aches and heartache, you push through. They need you to be strong in a moment when they’re both crumbling.

You steel yourself, gathering the fumes of energy you have left to feign normalcy when there is none.

You turn to Roy, addressing him suddenly, “Now that you’re awake, can you please talk some sense into him?” Your arm motions toward Jason. “He, Tim, Kon, Steph and I’m like 99% sure your clone, got us out of there. The whole place collapsed- the whole god damned thing, Roy. It’s all gone and Jason’s one of the only reasons we’re both in this sick ass car right now and not chunks floating down a river.” 

You try to convey just how insane Jason’s being with your face, but Roy’s more focused on putting the pieces together.

“Wait,” he says, rubbing at his face. “Jim? Did he….?” Jason’s stiff posture is the only answer Roy needs. Roy laughs humorlessly, staring off into space as he takes in all the new information, “And then there was one.”

You realize quickly enough that no sense will be talked into Jason because sense needs talked into Roy first.

“We’d be stupid to think taking down their facility means the complete annihilation of Cadmus,” Damian starts somewhat cautiously. You watch as his hazel eyes carefully meet Roy’s in the rearview mirror as if to gauge his reaction. 

“No, he’s right.” The weight behind Roy’s response, hell, his agreeing with Damian is all too much.

“It’s not completely hopeless,” you try. “Plus, we got the info we came here for. Steph confirmed that they managed to snag the stem sample Ivy sold and now we know about the microwave emitter.” Roy’s lips are tight as he looks out the window. “We may have gotten captured, but they blew up the lab. There’s no possible way for there to be any remains of either of our DNA and, oh yeah, did I mention the whole fucking lab was obliterated? That’ll throw them off for a while and, when it doesn’t, we’ll be right there to take them down for good. All three of us,” you assure him by placing a gentle hand on his knee. “No one will ever have to go through what you went through there again, baby.”

The energy in the car grows even tenser and you start to wonder if you’ve maybe said the wrong thing.

Finally, Roy speaks.

“What we went through,” Roy corrects you grimly, looking at you only through the reflection of the car window’s glass. “You were right beside me in that lab and I’ll never forgive myself for it.” 

Jason’s chin rests in his hand with his fist covering his mouth as he stares out at the Gotham City lights. Through the side mirror though, you can tell his eyes are unfocused. You know he’s heard Roy and can’t help but think he deserves a percentage of that same blame.

They’re both ridiculous. 

Can they not hear what you’re saying, or are they just ignoring you to brood?

Of everything that went wrong, so much more was righted in the end. The whole situation’s like a win, win, win… win. Multiple wins, okay? 

And, yeah, there were losses. You and Roy got shoved into test tubes and Guardian was lost in the wreckage, but it could’ve been so much worse.

You don’t feel bad about admitting that you feel like the mission was a near complete success.

“Well, I’ll be here to help you try.” You look from Roy to Jason. “Both of you.” A few beats of silence linger in the Batmobile before you finally try again, “I love you, my loves.”

This finally gets them out of their clouded thoughts.

Jason reaches around to kiss the back of your hand and, at the same time, Roy places a gentle kiss on your cold cheeks. After their combined attention, your cheeks definitely aren’t so cold anymore.

Damian snorts, “This is just like one of those fucking Telenovelas Jason used to force me to watch with him.”

“Shut up, fuckface,” Jason hisses at his younger brother. Finally, he slumps back in his seat, instantly going back to scowling out the window dramatically.

Another few dregs of silence linger before, surprisingly, Damian’s the one to break it.

He clears his throat hesitantly, “I didn’t bring up the possibility to ruin the mood further.” Was Damian seriously apologizing to Roy? Even Roy seems uncertain at the odd shift in conversation. “It was merely to say that Grayson and I will keep an eye on Cadmus’ progression for you three. I doubt to see much activity from them for at least a few months, but I won’t assume anything when it comes to them.” You think he’s done, but after a moment, he continues, “You all did good work, so don’t worry about the maintenance. We’ve got that covered.”

Roy nods appreciatively at Damian before turning to you. 

The chip on his shoulders that had been there moments prior has seemingly lifted. His hand tentatively trails across your bare thigh to gently take your hand into his. You can’t help the light sigh you release at the contact, but the small smile he gives in return makes you glad for it. 

His freckled fingers trail over your soft skin absentmindedly as you trudge on through the rainy dredge of the neon-lit city.

Damian was kind enough to bring a few sets of civie clothes for the three of you to change into before hopping out of the Batmobile a few blocks away from your apartment. The action alone reminds you fondly of when you’d given Jason, then as Red Hood, the run around with your address much in the same way.

You don’t mind the short walk, reveling in how the salty Gotham rain stings against your skin, reminding you that you’re real.

Lian’s been asleep for hours by the time your motley crew stumbles back into the threshold of your penthouse.

You and Jason help Roy in the shower, spending extra time to drag your caring touches all along his body as he sobs into the stream. Once he’s sufficiently washed and his tears refuse to fall any longer, you hop out to help him to bed while Jason finishes washing up.

“Come on, baby,” you coo, drawing his wet, naked body into bed with yours. You can’t help but think back to how the two of you were just in this predicament hours earlier, something Roy seems to sense. “What?” you ask, regardless.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” he whispers your name into the low-lit room.

You sigh, trying to will away your annoyance, but it still shines through anyway, “It’s not like I’m some fucking damsel in distress, Roy. I can hold my own.”

“That’s not what I’m saying and you know it,” he chides back without missing a beat. 

You focus on wiping away the remaining streaks of tears that stain his flushed, freckled cheeks.

“I love you,” you murmur, moving your body closer to his. It’s not sexual, well, it is, but it’s not meant to be. It’s reassurance, comfort, that the man you love is still here beside you. It makes you want to memorize every inch of his body in case…

“I love you more.” The redhead nestles further into you, leaving you to wonder if he’d been thinking the exact same thing.

You don’t know who caves first, all you know is that his chapped lips are moving against your plump ones. It’s slow and fluid, like even shrouded in all his stupor, he’s putting every ounce of love and devotion into his erotic onslaught against you.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper against his lips without thinking.

He blinks blearily at you before resting his forehead against your own. His grip on your jaw lightens briefly as he looks at you, really looks at you and sighs, “I’m sorry, too.”

You nod, biting your lip, not sure if you’ve ruined the mood, when he guides your face up to drag you under once again. Your toes curl as Roy’s hands trickle along all of your sensitive spots, leaving goosebumps in his wake. His love distracts you from the heaviness of the night, if only for the minutes that trickle by, coming apart in each other’s arms.

When you do separate, you’re both panting and still connected via a heavy string of saliva that Jason graciously wipes away for the two of you.

“I thought you were in the shower,” you say dumbly at the jaw-dropping site in front of you.

Your eyes follow down the rippling divots of Jason’s muscles as droplets cascade down them. You swallow heavily, unwittingly looking down at Roy for refuge from the tantalizing sight. 

“You should go finish up,” Jason says. He notes your blush with sparks of mischief in his eyes, but nonetheless, he keeps his kiss with you PG-13. “I can take over here.”

You patter about the room for a while, building up the courage to do what you’re about to do.

While Jason’s busy holding Roy tight in bed, you sneak off to the bathroom. Neither seem to notice how you uncharacteristically close the door with a click behind you, which makes it all the easier to pull out your secret stash from under the sink.

You’ve only had to use them once before, leaving only one package.

You turn on the shower to drown out the noise you know you’ll soon be making before hurrying back to the task at hand.

The plastic crinkles upon first contact with your tentative hands, but the door ultimately remains shut. You breathe out shakily, fumbling to tear it open so you can finally get some relief after the whole test tube debacle. 

Your mind hasn’t been quite right since and you know this will at least put some of your worries at ease.

Seconds are ticking by as you finally manage to rip it open like a Band-Aid.

You pay little attention to the ruckus you’ve made as you quickly take the contraption out. You conceal the wrapper in toilet paper before stuffing it down in the bottom of the trashcan, not bothering with the instructions.

How hard could it be, anyway? Step 1: Piss on stick, Step 2: Read stick.

There’s nothing left to do but face the music, you think bitterly.

You stare at the white object in front of you, scoffing at how a dumb piece of plastic is going to be the thing that reveals your fate.  

You take the pregnancy test and quickly hop into the shower to finish rinsing the dried suds from your body. You emerge in a swell of steam minutes later and are relieved to see the ‘negative’ flashing across the small digital screen.

You stare at yourself in the foggy mirror as panic sets in.

They can’t know you had another scare, not when the first one a year ago caused such mixed emotions for everyone. You wonder if now would be different but quickly shake your head. You have Lian. You want to make sure her childhood’s better than all three of yours and that’s all you can afford to focus on for now.

With pregnancy out of the way, you’re left to wonder what exactly the Cadmus scientists had meant by ‘two subjects.’ Poison Ivy had mentioned a symbiotic nature, but surely the stem you’d collected tonight had been the only stem she’s sold to him… Right?

You glance past your reflection up to the window that sits behind you. You know it opens slightly at the top to allow ventilation and realize this is your best bet.  You climb into the slippery tub, standing precariously on the thin ledge to unlock the hinge and open the small squeaky window. You can’t see down with the way it opens upward at an angle, but you’re able to throw the stick out of the opening easily enough.

You glance back at the door, but it’s still shut. You can’t stop the loud exhale you produce, thankful that the shower’s still on to hopefully cover it up. You quickly finish up in the bathroom before joining your loves on the bed.

You think you’ve made it when Jason suddenly stirs.

“Did you open the window, babe?” Jason asks quietly so as not to wake Roy.

“Just to help the steam,” you swear you answer too nonchalantly for him to actually believe, but all he does is yawn and pat beside him on the bed. You curl into his strong, naked body, smiling when he immediately scatters light kisses against your still-warm skin. “How’s he faring?”

“It’ll be hard,” Jason’s hands begin wandering less than innocently along the globes of your ass, “but he’s got us.”

Just like you had the two of them through the darkest parts of your life, the least you can do is be there for them during theirs.

You nod, breath hitching as he draws you in for a toe-curling kiss. 

“Jason,” you gasp, only to have him gently shush you. The three of you have long established that sex doesn’t always have to be the three of you, but you always feel somewhat odd when it happens.

You can’t count the amount of times Roy’s eaten you out in the parking lot while Jason was grabbing groceries or Jason’s habit of sneaking into your long ass showers to get you dirty all over again. It also wasn’t unheard of for whoever was going on patrol that night to have the occasional rooftop/alleyway quickie.

Let’s be honest, after tonight’s terrifying, death-defying mission, you have a lot of tension you need help releasing.

Jason seems to understand completely.

“Today kinda put me back in the fucked up headspace I had after,” he trails off, stopping his salacious ministrations before he can reach your throbbing cunt. He sees the understanding in your eyes and clears his throat, “Just felt like I let you down again.”

“Well,” you flip around in bed so you can face him, running your hands along his abs as you meet his heated gaze, “you didn’t and neither did he.” You motion over his shoulder with the slight bob of your head where Roy's passed out. “Fuck me and get whatever guilt you have out, babe.”

He bites lightly at his bottom lip, reveling in the way your body reacts to him.

“I can do that.”

Roy’s snores accompany the gentle sound of Jason making love to you until you’re completely tired and spent. Soon, all three of your snores fill the room with something Lian would later tell you at the breakfast table that sounded like ‘hibernating bears.’

This week, there's definitely an uptick in the peculiar instances of hibernating bears.

A/N: not edited as much as i'd like. just finished editing this outline so expect more CS soon!

be sure to check out info on the giveaway for a physical copy of ARS (plus 4 custom pins and a bookmark!) here!

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[gallopinggallifreyans]

Been workin double time so y’all can have nice nice lucky snowbirds (I still think they should be called flying south) and also I’m procrastinating studying for finals

Remember: don’t read this at work. This bad boy can fit SO much filth

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

Camp Wanamaker (Ch. 3/10)

July 1, 2023

Notes - I almost had this finished yesterday, but I ended up passing out at my desk and forcing myself to go to bed. Then, this morning, I woke up at 3:30 because our neighbors are morons and that only started the insanity for the day, so I ended up finishing this a lot later than I intended to.

Chapter 3 - Good Vibrations

Hazy rays of sunlight filtered in through the thin cotton curtains that just barely clung to their rod, the light catching the floating specs of dust that hung in the air. Birds chirped outside, their melodic songs filling the air alongside the gentle hum of crickets. The early morning air was crisp and cool as Sunday’s overnight rain brought cooler, less humid air to the summer camp. Soft voices from the other room filled the log cabin with laughter and conversation, but there was still one resident of the Lakeside Lodge who had yet to join the festivities. Pale blue eyes peeled open slowly, only to wince at the brightness of the light coming into the room and slide back shut. The bed creaked and groaned as Miles shifted onto his side and attempted to bury his face in his pillow. If the noise from the other room was anything to go by, he was sure everyone else was already awake and somewhat ready for the day, but that didn’t mean he had to be just yet.

Despite the fact that he hated mornings with a passion, Miles found them peaceful when he was allowed to wake up on his own time. On his days off, he would spend an hour or so letting himself adjust to the day if he was lucky. After a while, he would pry himself from the mattress and drag himself to the kitchen to make breakfast if his brothers hadn’t gotten around to it first. In more recent days, however, he’d been forced to wake up with the sun and be ready for the day to begin. He would rise with the rest of the counselors and get dressed, the hike to the mess hall further rousing him from any remaining slumber he had in him. Once he was awake, things weren’t so bad, and he could get into the rhythm of the day. It was just the mornings that dragged everything out of him.

The distant sound of a plane flying overhead reminded Miles of home - where elderly snowbirds spent their retirement money flying down south for the winter before returning to their northern homes for the warmer seasons. In a way, Miles supposed, he was now just like one of those elderly people -spending his summer in New Hampshire. No matter how hard he tried to ignore the sunlight beaming through his window, Miles was pulled further from sleep as the silence of the early morning was broken only by the sound of Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go. Though the song was fun, and he genuinely liked it when it came on over the radio while he drove the kids wherever they needed to go - listening to them scream-singing along to it in the backseat - Miles slowly lifted his head and glared at the window as though the song offended him before slumping back onto his mattress with a groan of complaint. 

The night before, they had spent a few hours around the campfire after dinner, learning where they would be stationed for the entirety of the summer and putting in song requests for the morning wake-up call. He knew a few of the selections their group had made - Royce and Bentley offering a few of their favorite songs while Carrie and Vivien went back and forth, offering a bunch of songs ranging from ABBA and Madonna to Britney Spears and Avril Lavigne. He couldn’t recall anyone suggesting one of Wham!’s greatest hits around the fire, but whoever had put in for the bubbly, energetic, 80s pop song was going to feel his wrath. Who, in their right mind, would want to wake up to something so blindingly perky first thing in the morning? Not Miles, that was for sure.

Using his pillow to muffle the four-minute-long song, Miles tried to return to sleep but found it growing more and more impossible. A solid knock on his bedroom door halfway through the song made Miles let out a grumbling plea for just a few more minutes to relax in the comfort of his mattress, but the person on the other side of the door was insistent. Miles tried to roll onto his stomach and ignore the person as they pushed their way into the room, but that didn’t stop the human alarm clock from grabbing his blanket and pulling both it and Miles’ lumpy pillow away.

“Fuck off,” Miles grumbled. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Butchy chuckled. “Up and at ‘em, sunshine. The first round of campers is going to be here after breakfast, so if you want any coffee before they get here, you need to get moving.”

Miles let out a groan as he rolled onto his back, staring up at Butchy with tired eyes, “Why do you have to be the voice of reason?”

“Would you rather I let Vivien come wake you every morning?” Butchy asked in response.

Miles remembered Vivien’s wake-up calls all too well. After housing the brunette for a few months, he had learned to at least try to wake up to his alarm. While Bentley and Royce would at least try to get him out of bed with words, Vivien resorted to violence, jumping onto his bed and beating him with a pillow until he was awake enough to fight back. To make matters worse, when he had to be up for work, she had refused to make coffee until he was awake and dressed. In a way, her tactics were effective, and he quickly learned to get up and ready before she came in swinging so that he would get his coffee before heading out the door, as the alternative would be much worse.

Quickly shaking his head, Miles pushed himself to sit up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed as he told Butchy, “I’d much prefer the voice of reason to her assault and battery.”

Butchy chuckled, tossing Miles’ pillow and blanket to the end of the bed, “Well, then, I suggest you get up before I release the hounds.”

As Miles pushed himself from his mattress with a yawn, he muttered, “I’m going, I’m going.”

The taller brunet left Miles to his devices and returned to the living room, where Vivien had perched herself on the back of the couch, watching the biker with an almost maniacal grin. Butchy shook his head as he passed her, patting her on the arm as he said, “Not today, piccola.”

“Aw,” Vivien sighed in defeat, allowing herself to slide back onto one of the couch cushions. “Why not?”

As Butchy rounded the couch and perched himself on one end, he said, “Because I threatened him with you, and it worked.”

“As it should,” Carrie chimed in with a knowing grin. “I’ve seen you attack him first thing in the morning.”

Placing a hand over her chest with an overdramatic gasp, Vivien turned to Carrie and said, “I do not attack people! I awaken them.”

“Ah yes, because digging your bony ass knees into someone and smacking them silly with a pillow first thing in the morning is how you should wake someone up,” Riven spoke sarcastically as he sat on the armrest.

“It is when it comes to Miles,” Bentley stated. 

“He hardly ever gets out of bed on time unless he absolutely has to,” Royce agreed. “Having Viv wake him up was the only way he would be up early enough to make breakfast before getting out the door for work sometimes.”

“It was hilarious,” Bentley beamed. “Royce and I would watch her beat him up from the doorway.”

“Good to know you two like to see me get beaten up by a literal child,” Miles deadpanned as he made his way into the living area, running a hand through his hair as he closed his bedroom door.

“This ‘literal child’ has access to couch cushions,” Vivien said with a smirk.

Shoving Vivien’s head from behind, Miles said, “Try me, noodles-for-arms.”

“Bitch,” Vivien scoffed, taking one of the decorative pillows from the couch and smacking Miles in the chest with it.

“I know you are, but what am I?” Miles taunted in a childish voice.

Vivien snorted, “Now, who’s the child?”

Before Miles could come up with a snappy comeback, Mick spoke, “You both are; now let’s go before everyone takes the good food, and we’re stuck with nothing but granola bars and yogurt.”

Dropping her weapon onto the couch, Vivien joined Miles as everyone followed Mick to the door. Peering over at the biker with a grin, she muttered, “This isn’t over, dipshit.”

“Didn’t think it was, asshat,” Miles retorted with a smirk.

After breakfast, the group was divided and made to go to their stations to wait for the campers to arrive. The other campers would be assigned to a cabin upon arrival and be made to stay with those people for the duration of their time at camp. Bentley, on the other hand, was in a cabin with seven counselors who were assigned to different tasks, and, therefore, he had no set schedule. Although Bentley was still, technically, a camper, he was allowed to roam freely throughout the camp without being told off by the workers.

His brothers had been taken to different areas - Royce taking up the front desk at the library and Miles working with Vivien in the music hall - so Bentley was left roaming around until the camp was flooded with kids of all ages. He had enjoyed spending the last week being treated as the only camper, but with everyone else piling into the camp and filling all of the empty spaces, he was minutely worried that he’d be forgotten in the fray. Granted, as he drifted from place to place, he was sure certain people would make space for him if they could. 

Royce’s spot in the library would be fairly easy for the curly-haired boy as he loved books to no end, and while Bentley knew he could spend as much time as he wanted there, he wasn’t overly fond of how quiet it normally was. On the opposite side of the camp, the music hall was practically a free-for-all unless it was during lesson hours - Vivien offered drum training while Miles taught people to play guitar, and others offered different string, woodwind, or brass lessons. The fitness center had only so many places for people to work out, but Bentley knew Butchy wouldn’t care if he just sat around at the desk for a while. Carrie and Riven were working in the playhouse together, and while Bentley wanted to talk to Riven more and fill him in on how things worked between their worlds, he knew it would be nearly impossible as they worked on helping others with their acting, singing, or dancing. He could spend all day with Mick if he wanted to, as she was filling two roles at once. Flitting between archery and lifeguarding was no easy feat, but she was determined to manage both until the end of the week when someone else would be able to cover her position on the lifeguard chair.

As Bentley perched himself on the porch that wrapped around the main office, he wondered just how long it would be before everyone began arriving. According to the long talk they’d had to sit through after breakfast, it would be just after lunch, but Bentley wasn’t even sure what time it was - nor did he have any desire to pull his phone out of his back pocket and find out. Keeping track of the time was like watching grass grow - tedious, pointless, and boring. All he knew was that the sky was beginning to grow cloudy as the forecasted rain showers drifted closer to the small town, and the closer they got, the more time had passed.

Bentley sucked in a sharp breath as something cold pressed into the side of his neck. Jumping, he whirled around only to find the mess hall’s resident vacuum cleaner, Ding, standing behind him with his tongue flopping lazily out of his mouth and his tail wagging happily. Relaxing back in his seat, Bentley chuckled softly and raised a hand to the large dog’s fur, smiling to himself as the dog ducked under his hand and leaned into the scratches Bentley gave him. Ding sat beside Bentley, leaning up to lick Bentley’s cheek as the boy scratched just under his collar.

Chuckling, Bentley admitted, “You scared the crap out of me, Ding; I hope you know that.”

“He has a habit of doing that,” a voice claimed not far away. 

Looking up from the dog’s colorful fur to where George stood with a smile and a pair of cups filled with a mysterious green liquid, Bentley smiled and greeted the man as he sat on the other side of the massive dog, “Hey, Chief.” The man smiled and held out a cup of green juice with something floating in it. Upon further inspection, it was a plastic beetle. Raising an eyebrow as he hesitantly accepted the cup, Bentley asked, “What is this?”

“Bug juice,” George replied. “It’s a mixture of Sprite, lemon-lime Kool-Aid, and lime sherbet. It’s something a lot of campers fight over here as we usually only have it a few times every week, and once it’s gone, there’s no making anymore.”

Bentley took a sip of his drink and hummed; he could see why everyone liked it so much. Nudging Ding’s nose away from the cup, he turned his attention to the camp’s director and asked, “What did you mean when you said Ding has a habit of scaring people?”

George chuckled, “Despite being the size of a small horse and stumbling around camp like an idiot, Ding’s got a way of sneaking up on people when he wants attention.”

“How did he learn to do that?” Bentley asked.

“Hell if I know,” George chuckled before taking a sip of his drink. “My guess would be either my wife or Hayley since the little menace is always nipping at their heels.”

Hayley was Vivien’s birth mother; Bentley knew that much. It seemed as though they were close, and if Vivien’s pictures were anything to go by, they looked a lot alike. “Hayley,” Bentley began, “she’s your daughter, right?”

George nodded, “She’s the younger of the twins, and Ding’s always adored her more than anything.”

“Is that why he likes to sit with Viv at meals?” Bentley wondered.

“It’s one of the reasons,” George agreed. “She gives him an endless supply of food to keep him happy, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he spent the rest of the summer bouncing back and forth between her and Hayley when she gets here.”

Bentley nodded thoughtfully. That’s right, Hayley was supposed to be coming to camp at the end of the week. Saturday was the first of July, and the only reason he remembered that Vivien’s biological mother was coming that day was that Vivien had put it on the calendar in their cabin in bright red marker, circled it a few times, and drew stars around it for good measure. Thankfully, Saturday was when the campers who were only there for one or two weeks would leave, allowing them a weekend mostly to themselves. Maybe he would get the chance to know Vivien’s birth mother during those little breaks between weeks.

“What’s Hayley like?” Bentley asked.

“She’s a lot like Vivien, actually,” George mused. “Adventurous, intelligent, full of snappy comebacks and witty remarks. She was a bit more rebellious in her teenage years, however.”

“How so?”

George let out a laugh, “Let’s just say that Vivien is tame compared to Hayley.”

Bentley smirked, “Now I really want to know!”

With a glimmer of something in his eyes, George opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by his wife as she approached, “Don’t go telling the boy about how Hayley stole your motorcycle and rode up to Maine just for a concert.”

“I wasn’t,” George chuckled, raising his empty hand in surrender and smiling at his wife’s grin. “I was going to tell him about the time she smoked some of my weed and began arguing with your parrot.”

Shaking her head, Dawn turned to Bentley with a smile, “All in all, Hayley gave us a run for our money until she got herself a job at that wire company, but we gained enough stories of her escapades over the years to write a novel about.”

Bentley chuckled, “It’s no wonder she and Vivien get along so well.”

George hummed, “As I said, Vivien is tamer compared to Hayley, but she still thrives on adventure all the same.”

Sipping at his cup of bug juice, Bentley thought about just how much fun this summer could be once the woman arrived at camp. Maybe she would bring an extra sense of chaos to the camp and help keep things lively and adventurous. If she was anything like she was as a teenager, she would definitely keep people on the edge of their seats. He could only imagine what it would be like having two Viviens at camp. Vivien used the line between adventure and potential time behind bars for breaking and entering as a jump rope, and while he was sure her biological mother had calmed her reckless side at least a little over the years, Bentley hoped she was still just as adventurous as she had been in her younger days. Smiling to himself, Bentley returned to scratching the dog beside him as he realized he would only have to wait another five days to see exactly what camp would be like with both Vivien and her aunt running around.

Tuesday was the first full day of actual camp, and while things were certainly moving along better than they had when everyone was still figuring out their bunking spots and how to get from Point A to Point B, there were still groups of people huddled around, comparing their schedules, and fussing over how to stick with their groups. Thankfully, most of the issues would be solved quickly as the campers were spending more of their time at the art barn, making shirts with their chosen cabin names plastered on the front. Whoever had suggested naming the typically numbered cabins after Greek gods for the summer, like in the Percy Jackson books, had been victorious, and the idea was an instant hit with the campers as they worked on naming everything.

The girls in Cabin 1 had claimed Aphrodite as their cabin name just as quickly as the boys in Cabin 2 had chosen Poseidon. The rainbow goddess, Iris, was taken for Cabin 3, Apollo was claimed by Cabin 4, and Cabin 5 had taken their time choosing Athena before leaving for their cabin. Hades and Persephone came in for 6 and 7, respectively, Ares for 8, and Nike for 9. Fittingly, the group that showed up late and nearly fell asleep in their soups during supper had chosen Hypnos, the Greek god of sleep, to be the mascot for Cabin 10. Artemis was chosen for Cabin 11. Cabin 12 took Hephaestus, and if what Bentley had said during his brief visit to the office was true, they were all pretty good at building things in the art barn. The gaggle of girls who looked as though they had come straight from the set of The Craft was quick to name their cabin after the goddess of magic, Hecate. To round out the list, Cabin 14 took the name of Dionysus, and Cabin 15 chose Nemesis. 

Unlike the rest of the campers and staff, most of the people who resided in the already-named cabins didn’t mind that the others got to choose while they didn’t. In the case of the people who now lived in the Lakeside Lodge, they had no issue with the naming choices made by the others. Vivien, Mick, and Riven had been going to the camp for as long as they could remember, and the ever-changing names of different cabins were nothing new to them. The others simply couldn’t bring themselves to care as they were happy where they were.

It was clear that some campers were having issues finding their way around, and it was for that very reason that both the chief of the camp and his wife were making the rounds, showing kids where they needed to go. Instead of holing herself in the music hall to avoid the chaos until it was time for lessons with a pair of kids from Apollo, Vivien had been pulled aside by her grandmother and asked to manage the desk in the main office, answering phone calls, helping kids find their way, and talking to parents who chose to stop by and drop off things their kids had forgotten to pack. She, of course, had no issue with such tasks as she had done so for years, but as another disgruntled mother left after dropping off something her child had forgotten at home, she found herself getting bored.

As the old clock on the wall ticked another minute past two, Vivien glared up at the clock and sighed, hoping for once that the batteries in the old junkyard-worthy thing were finally dying out and it was simply showing her the wrong time. Time after lunch always crawled by like a snail going uphill through molasses, but as she was waiting for something in particular to happen, it felt even slower. Vivien jumped as the phone on the desk rang, hurriedly reaching for it and holding it up to her ear before giving the typical greeting, “Camp Wanamaker front desk, this is Vivien. How can I help you?”

A crisp, cheerful giggle came over the line, and Vivien paused. She knew that laugh. “Goodness, Vivi, you sound so mature,” the person claimed.

“Aunt Charlie?” Vivien questioned.

“Hey, sunshine,” the woman chirped. “I was hoping your Nonna was at the desk so that she’d connect me to you, but I guess I don’t have to go through all that now.”

“I guess not,” Vivien agreed, tucking the phone between her shoulder and her ear as she tugged her ponytail tighter. “What’s up?”

Vivien could practically hear the woman’s pearlescent smile as Charlie said, “Hayley and I wanted to let you know that we’re getting ready to leave New York.”

“Really?” Vivien asked, glancing at the calendar that sat on the desk. “I thought you weren’t leaving until Thursday.”

“We weren’t,” Charlie agreed, “but Hayley is determined to stop by some museum in Massachusetts on the way back, so I’m sure we’ll spend at least a day there.”

“Sounds familiar,” Vivien smirked.

“Tell me about it,” Charlie chuckled. “Heaven help me when I end up at some maritime museum with the two of you.”

Distantly, Vivien could make out her Aunt Hayley adding her two cents to the conversation, “I already said we should take her to the Titanic museum!”

“Did you hear that?” Charlie asked with a sigh. When Vivien hummed in confirmation, Charlie said, “She plans on taking you during one of your school breaks - winter or spring, probably - and bringing you to Branson, Missouri. I told her that she’s out of her fucking mind if she thinks we’re going out to that frozen tundra in the middle of winter.” 

Vivien couldn’t contain her smile at the idea. She had been following the Titanic museums for years, having fallen in love with the ship of dreams when she was still young enough to need training wheels on her bicycle. “There’s a museum in Tennesee,” she offered.

Charlie shifted the phone, hollering to Hayley, “You hear that? Even Vivi thinks a nice, warm trip to Tennessee would be better than spending winter break freezing our tits off in Missouri!”

“Missouri is still warmer than New Hampshire,” Hayley called back.

Letting out a sigh, Charlie turned her attention back to the conversation at hand, “Anyway, I figured you should know that we’ll be on our way back. We should still be getting there on Saturday, but plans might change if your other mother spends too much time gawking at dead people’s artifacts.”

In near-perfect unison, both Vivien and Hayley replied, “There’s no such thing as spending too much time in a museum.”

Scoffing, Charlie sighed, “Tell my feet that after she drags me through every floor five times over.”

“You’ll live,” Hayley commented, her voice audibly closer than before. Once the call was on speakerphone, she said to Vivien, “I made sure to save you some Playbills from the shows we saw.”

“Really?” Vivien questioned, although she already knew the answer. “Thank you!”

“Always,” Hayley replied. “I’ll send you some pictures before I pack them.”

“Speaking of packing,” Charlie segued, “I need to get back to it if we plan on getting up north on time.”

“I’ll see you guys when you get here,” Vivien spoke. “Have fun at the museum for me.”

“Next time,” Hayley began, “you’ll be there with us.”

“Absolutely,” Charlie stated. “Have fun at camp.”

“Enjoy watching the new kids run around like a bunch of chickens with their heads cut off!” Hayley commented with a smile evident in her voice.

Vivien could imagine Charlie smacking Hayley on the arm, reprimanding her biological mother for the comment, but heard nothing as she smiled and said, “I will. Love you, guys.”

“Love you too, baby girl!” Hayley exclaimed. 

“Love you,” Charlie stated. “See you Saturday.”

“Saturday,” Vivien nodded to herself, listening for the telltale click of the other line ending the call before setting the device back on its hook. She stared at the old phone for a while until her phone screen lit up, a series of messages coming in with images attached. Vivien scrolled through the pictures with a brilliant smile before taking in a deep breath and glancing at the calendar beside her on the desk. She could wait another four days.

Wednesday brought nothing but rain, and, with a simple order after breakfast to keep the campers inside as much as possible to avoid anyone getting sick, everyone went their separate ways. Seeing as they had no choice but to sit around in the music hall despite the fact that nobody had signed up for lessons that day, Miles held the umbrella between himself and Vivien as they walked through the trails leading up to their station. The older wooden cabin was fairly tall, the ceilings were vaulted for better acoustics, and, as Miles closed the umbrella and stepped inside, he realized there were a few leaks in the roof that Vivien quickly remedied by placing buckets on the floor. 

The music hall smelled of wood, as most buildings at camp did, but there was a faint odor of the rosin that they used on the bows for the string instruments. The piano on the far wall went almost unused as more teenagers were interested in taking their frustrations out on the drum set Vivien favored. Slouching into the cushioned armchair Miles had chosen for himself the first day in the music hall, he sighed and looked around. It wasn’t much, but it was a place of comfort.

Rain pattered against the windows, and as the sky illuminated with lightning, Miles hoped everyone had gotten where they needed to be before the storm started. Those in charge of lifeguarding or handing out snacks at the pool were dismissed to help elsewhere, and Miles was fleetingly glad that Vivien’s friend, Noah, had been assigned to the playhouse where he would be destined to help Carrie and Riven with putting sets together for the showcase at the end of the summer instead of being holed up in the library with Royce. Royce was, thankfully, practically alone in the rather soundproof library and could probably manage the storm by reading or listening to music to cover the noise of the storm.

Miles sighed to himself as Vivien crossed the room, checking for any more leaks drizzling in from the roof. He knew Royce had grown more capable of handling storms after having Vivien with him for a few months in St. Pete Beach, but that did nothing to quell the bubbling concern within him. Miles was still worried about Royce having to deal with it alone. Then, as though his younger brothers had been reading his mind, Miles’ cell phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to find that Bentley had sent Miles a sneakily-taken picture of Royce. It was obvious the fifteen-year-old had taken the shot without his brother knowing as Royce looked as though he was in the middle of reading, his mouth partially open and a book in his hands. Three little dots glowed on the screen before a hastily written message appeared.

Benny: Royce and I are pk. Stop worming an talk to Viv.

Miles let out a snort, easily deciphering his youngest brother’s message. Despite the incorrectly typed words, Miles was somewhat proud of Bentley. He’d gotten better at texting legible messages over time, but still refused to use autocorrect as he wanted to work things out himself. It wasn’t long before the next one appeared.

Benny: You know what I mean. Just stop thinkimg and hace fun.

Tapping out a quick reply, Miles sent Bentley a message in return before placing his phone on the music stand beside his chair and scanning the room for Vivien. Though he could hear soft, almost inaudible music, he couldn’t see her, so Miles stood and called out, “Viv?”

“In here,” she called from the back room. 

Maneuvering his way through the minefield of pattering buckets of water and musical instruments that had been pulled out of the way of danger, Miles made it to the entrance of the backroom, finding Vivien sitting on the floor with a guitar on her lap and drawer full of guitar picks and drum sticks on the floor before her. “What are you doing, kiddo?” he asked as he leaned against the frame of the door.

Setting the guitar aside, Vivien tucked some stray hairs behind her ears and peered up at Miles with a small sigh, “Trying to teach myself guitar.”

Letting out a soft chuckle, Miles crouched low to the ground beside her and asked, “Let me guess; it’s going about as well as teaching yourself French did?”

With an almost sarcastic gleam in her eyes, Vivien scoffed, “How did you know?”

“Because there isn’t a tab sheet in sight, and you’re holding it wrong,” Miles stated with a small smile.

“Not like I can read sheet music in the first place,” Vivien muttered, tossing the pick she had been using into the drawer she’d taken it from.

Shifting so that he sat on the floor next to Vivien, Miles asked, “If you can’t read music, how do you play your drums?”

“With my heart,” Vivien replied easily, emerald eyes flickering toward Miles. “I let the music take me where it wants to go. No two performances are the same.”

The more Miles thought about it, the more it made sense. He had heard her band practices and had spent time listening to Vivien bang around on her drums for fun, but he had always assumed that she knew all the songs she played by heart and never needed papers to tell her what to do when performing. In a way, he supposed he was right. Allowing a smile to tug at his lips, Miles asked, “Do you want to learn?”

“Do I need to in order to play guitar?” she asked in return.

“At first,” Miles admitted, “but after a while, you won’t need it anymore.”

Vivien nodded in understanding, letting out a soft sigh, “If you feel like taking the time to teach me, I’d be more than willing to try.”

“Atta girl,” Miles beamed, nudging Vivien with a hand before grabbing the guitar and standing. “Let’s go.”

As Miles left the foam-padded room, Vivien pushed herself from the floor and brushed imaginary dust from her clothes before shoving the drawer of picks and sticks back into the storage container it belonged to and following Miles out of the room. Standing to the side as Miles dragged a set of chairs from the rack they hung them on every night, Vivien watched as he set them up away from the cases of string instruments. She watched Miles bring over a music stand and some blank papers before he sat on one chair and gestured for her to take the other.

Miles set up the music stand in the space before them as Vivien took her seat and picked up the guitar. Quickly shaking his head, Miles held out a hand and took the guitar from Vivien, who raised a brow curiously, “I thought you were going to teach me?”

“I am,” Miles nodded. “But, it sounds like you learn the same way I do - by sound. I figure that I could play something for you, then show you how to play it instead of making you try to read tabs or anything like that.”

“Is that how you learned?” Vivien asked.

“Mhm,” Miles hummed. Adjusting his fingers on the fretboard, Miles smiled and made sure he had Vivien’s attention before saying, “I’m only going to play the easy version of this song, so promise me that you won’t laugh.”

“I make no such promises,” Vivien smirked. However, as she caught onto Miles’ nervousness, she smiled reassuringly and stated, “I won’t laugh.”

Miles let out a breath of a laugh as he shifted the guitar over his leg, “I’m trusting you, kiddo.”

“Your funeral,” Vivien shrugged.

With a shake of his head and a smile, Miles took in a deep breath and relaxed before beginning to strum out a few cautionary notes. As he began playing the song he had in mind, Vivien watched his fingers move over the frets, switching chords with ease. Then, as Miles gained more confidence in his playing and began subconsciously humming along, Vivien caught onto the familiar tune. 

Emerald eyes widened, and as Miles began playing the second verse of the song, Vivien sang along to his humming, “Needless to say, I'm odds and ends, but I'll be stumbling away; slowly learning that life is okay.”

Choosing to join in, Miles sang with Vivien as the song continued, “Say after me: it's no better to be safe than sorry. Take on me.”

Letting her voice carry her excitement to have someone else sing with her, Vivien continued as Miles focused on the music once more, “Take me on. I'll be gone in a day or two.”

Just as Miles prepared to start the next verse, a heavy sound filled the music hall as the lights above them flickered off. Vivien looked to Miles for answers, but when he had none, she turned to the windows and saw the other buildings flickering into darkness as a loud rumble of thunder passed overhead. Rising to her feet, Vivien made her way to the window and let out a disbelieving scoff as Miles joined her and muttered, “I think the whole camp is down.”

“Looks that way,” Vivien sighed. Glancing up at Miles, she asked, “What are we going to do?”

Miles shrugged, “Is there no protocol for something like this?”

Thoughtfully, Vivien shook her head, “We used to have a backup generator, but it stopped working, so we got rid of it in February.”

“Maybe we should head to the mess hall,” Miles suggested. “Wouldn’t everyone gather there?”

“It’s practically a glass box,” Vivien stated. “It wouldn’t be safe.”

“I guess you’re right,” Miles agreed.

Miles peered out the window as Vivien headed back toward her chair and sat down. As much as he wanted to go out and make sure everyone was safe, he was sure that if they all stayed where they were, things would be fine. A sharp, static noise sliced through the silent room like a knife, jolting both Miles and Vivien from their thoughts. Vivien pulled her phone from her pocket and read, “Severe weather alerts are in effect for Belknap, Carroll, Merrimack, Rockingham, and Strafford Counties.”

“That’s half of the state, isn’t it?” Miles asked as he took his phone from where he’d left it.

“Yeah,” Vivien agreed, quickly scrolling over the news alert. “Expect thunderstorms, power outages, and potential hail as the storms progress.”

Looking over Vivien’s shoulder at her phone, Miles asked, “Does it say anything about when the power will be back?”

“No,” she replied with a shake of her head as she returned to her home screen. “I’ll call Nonna and ask if she knows.”

Miles waited patiently as Vivien scrolled through her contacts and pressed on the one for her grandmother, watching as Vivien put the call on speakerphone. The phone only rang twice before Vivien’s Nonna’s voice came over the line, “How are you holding up, sweetheart?” 

“We’re alright,” Vivien replied. “Any idea when the power will come back?”

“Not yet,” Dawn replied. “Your grandfather is on the phone with the electric company, but they’re dealing with a lot of people calling in, and it feels as though we’re nowhere near the top of their list.” 

“Great,” Vivien sighed sarcastically.

Dawn hummed, taking in a long breath before saying, “I’m going to start calling the different counselors and staff and tell them to send their cabin leads back to their cabins with the campers while they come and get some food and drinks for everyone. We’re going to have to wait out the storm until we can either get through to the electric company or borrow a generator.”

Vivien sighed, nodding to herself. Then, as though a brilliant idea had occurred to her, she asked, “What about the generator at the Hill House? Does that still work?”

The woman on the other end was silent for a moment, presumably thinking of an answer, before answering, “It should; why?”

Glancing at the boy to her right, Vivien said, “Miles and I can take a run up there with Butchy’s truck and get it. If we can hook it up to the camp’s electrical grid, we’ll be back in business.”

“Good thinking, eaglet,” Dawn commented. “Come to the office and grab the key to the house before you go. You’ll need to pick up the gas cans your grandfather leaves in the garage while you’re up there.”

“Alright, see you soon,” Vivien stated before hanging up the phone. Turning to Miles, she offered him an apologetic smile before saying, “Guitar lessons will have to wait, I’m afraid.”

Miles chuckled as he made his way to where he’d left his umbrella, “That’s fine.” Pulling open the door as Vivien joined him, he asked, “Where, exactly, are we going?”

“The Hill House,” Vivien answered, pulling her sweatshirt’s hood over her head before stepping outside and closing the door to the music hall. “It’s Nonna and Grandpa George’s house just up the road.”

“They have a generator up there?” Miles asked.

Vivien nodded, “The winters up here are brutal, but the generator helps when the power goes out. We used to go up there during every blizzard when I was little because we lost power downtown a lot faster than they did up here.”

“Understandable,” Miles shrugged. “I’ll go get the keys from the cabin, and I’ll meet you at the office.”

When Miles offered her the umbrella, Vivien simply pushed it back into his hand and shook her head, “I’ll be fine. Just go.”

Without giving Miles a chance to argue, Vivien took off in a run, the rain pelting through her hoodie as she left Miles standing in the middle of the trail. Miles shook his head at the girl’s antics before taking off for the cabin they shared. Meanwhile, Vivien ran through the camp, weaving through familiar trails now lined with mud, her sneakers slipping through the uneven terrain as she made her way toward the old lodge at the front of the camp. Launching herself onto the deck that wrapped around the building, Vivien kicked the mud from her shoes off the side of the deck and swiped beads of rain from her glasses with a sigh as she pulled open the screen door and stepped inside the main office. 

The office was dark and unusually warm as the air conditioning that usually cooled the building had gone off with the electricity. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves as she called out for her grandmother, Vivien reached into her pocket and produced her cell phone, hoping its protective case was enough to keep the phone from getting wet. Unlocking the device, Vivien hurriedly flipped on her flashlight and looked around, the silence and overall darkness of the usually lively building setting her on edge. She wasn’t a fan of the dark, and the silence was unsettling, to say the least. Normally, she would be greeted by her favorite dumb dog or someone at the desk, but it appeared as though nobody was there. 

Making her way past the front desk into the main hall where people could play a handful of arcade games, some foosball, ping pong, or air hockey, Vivien took in a deep breath and called, “Nonna? Grandpa George? Is anyone here?” 

A clear, low “A-woof,” echoed through the main hall, and Vivien turned toward the dog’s bark as Ding trotted over from his resting place on the cool stone hearth next to the unlit fireplace. Clearly pleased to have been woken up for attention, the shepherd-rottweiler circled Vivien’s legs with a bounce in his steps before sitting in front of her, his front legs tapping back and forth on the hardwood floors as his tail dusted the floor and his tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth.

Vivien knelt down and set her phone on the floor so the lumbering giant could receive some scratches and muttered, “Hey, Dingy.” The gentle dog panted happily in response, raising his paw for a shake out of habit. Vivien chuckled and shook the dog’s paw with a smile before saying, “I’ll give you a treat in a minute, buddy, but I need to find Nonna.”

As though the dog had understood the conditions Vivien had laid out, he stood and trotted over to a door on the far side of the room that led into a meeting room they used primarily for interviews before the summer started. The dog turned back toward Vivien and sat by the door before giving a short breath of a bark. Pushing herself to her feet, Vivien grabbed her phone from the floor and followed the path the dog had taken, meeting him by the door. As she neared the door, she could make out her grandmother’s voice on the other side, and Vivien smiled to herself as she reached down to pet her family’s dog.

A knock on the door later, Vivien heard her grandmother moving around in the other room before the door opened, and she came face to face with the woman. Stepping out and closing the door behind her, Dawn sighed, “If I have to explain power outages to another counselor who thinks they’re above the power company, I’m resigning.”

“You won’t,” Vivien claimed with a smile.

“I won’t,” Dawn shook her head, “but it sure is tempting.” Looking over her granddaughter with an exhausted smile, the older woman reached up and took Vivien’s glasses from her face, cleaning the smudges from them with her shirt before sliding them back into place. “Are you sure about this, sweetheart?”

Vivien nodded, “You guys said that if I want to help run the camp someday, I need to think outside the box, right?”

Dawn smiled as she cupped her granddaughter’s face in her hands, “That’s never truly been a concern with you. For some reason, it appears you see things just the same as your grandfather - always outside of the box.”

Though she smiled in return, Vivien’s confusion was evident as she asked, “What do you mean?”

“He offered to go pick up that generator just before you called,” Dawn confessed. “I told him that if he plans on being able to use his back at all, he'll stay here, and we can just wait it out.”

“Did you tell him I was going to get it?”

“Of course not,” Dawn said with a small shake of her head. “He would have either tried to stop you or join you, and - to be honest - I’m getting sick of hospital trips because of his stubbornness.”

Vivien knew all too well how many times they had ended up at the hospital after her grandfather had tried to do something himself and gotten injured for it. Thankfully, none of it was severe, but it happened all too often. The last thing they needed was another trip to the emergency room in the middle of a power outage. With a nod, Vivien decided, “I guess we should get going, then. The sooner we get it and get back here, the less likely he is to take off for it himself, and the sooner we can have power again.”

“Good thinking,” Dawn claimed, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a single key attached to a small chain and a dangling silver eagle. Once Vivien had pocketed the key, Dawn pulled the teenager down enough to press their foreheads together momentarily and press a quick kiss to the girl’s cheek. “Be careful, my eaglet.”

“I will, Nonna,” Vivien reassured with a small smile as her grandmother walked her back to the office at the front of the building. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

Dawn hummed, “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Vivien called as she made her way back toward the front door.

Dawn watched her granddaughter push open the screen door, seeing it thump back against the frame as Vivien ran toward a familiar pickup truck and hopped inside. The girl spoke animatedly with Miles as the door of the truck slammed shut, and she buckled herself in. Stepping onto the porch, Dawn leaned against the wooden frame that held the roof over her head and watched with a smile as the pair backed out of the space their friend had parked in, giving them a simple wave as a parting as they backed through the mud and drove toward the long road that led out of the camp. 

Smiling to herself, Dawn sighed, “She’s just like her aunt.” Giving a bark in agreement, Ding nudged his head against the woman’s leg, softly asking for attention. Dawn chuckled, running a hand through the dog's fur before turning back toward the office as thunder rolled overhead, “Back inside, Ding. I’ll get you a treat.”

Their windshield wipers clearing the window a mile a minute, Miles and Vivien rolled down the bumpy driveway of the camp in relative silence. The defogger roared to keep the windows clear as much as possible, but it did little to keep Vivien from wiping hers with her sleeve. Miles said nothing about it, having done the same to his window when he first climbed into his best friend’s pickup. Music played softly from the speakers, having connected to one of their phones upon starting, but neither occupant of the vehicle knew whose it was.

“Turn right up here,” Vivien gently ordered as Miles reached the end of the unpaved road.

“Alright,” Miles said, flicking on the blinker as he glanced down the road, turning in the direction Vivien had told him to. “You know, I thought your grandparents lived at the camp.”

“Yeah?” Vivien wondered, watching Miles for his nod of confirmation. She chuckled, “Sometimes it feels like they do. They’ve always favored camp more than their house.”

“Why not just sell the house and move onto the camp’s property?” Miles asked.

Vivien shrugged, “They want to eventually, but they’re not done having the plans made up for their special cabin.”

Miles hummed, pulling more of his attention back to the road as Vivien stared out the window in anticipation. At the same time, Vivien felt her knee begin to bounce as the house came into view in the distance. While Carrie’s reaction to her family’s property had been about on par with what she’d hoped it would be, Miles was more of a question mark for her. They had a great relationship, and, over the months she had spent in his house over what was supposed to be a week-long vacation to their world, she had begun to see him as a pseudo-brother - a man she could trust with just about anything and knew he would be there for her as much as he was for his brothers. Taking in a deep breath, Vivien tried to force herself to relax into the leather seats; she had always intended to bring all three of the Murphy brothers to the house at once to get their reactions at the same time, but that concept had left her the moment helping camp came into the picture.

Glancing at Miles through the corner of her eye, Vivien swallowed thickly. Maybe this would be her way to get a taste of how Royce and Bentley would react to her family’s financial status. Discreetly letting out the breath she’d held, Vivien turned to Miles and said, “It’s the white house on the right with the horses at the end of the driveway.”

Miles turned briefly toward Vivien before turning his gaze back to the road and asking, “Horses?”

Vivien nodded, “A pair of stone horses by the road. The animal Nonna chose for Grandpa George was a spotted horse, so he made some when they got the house.”

Miles smiled at the thought, but as he scanned the street for the house with the horses by the end of the driveway, it faltered ever-so-slightly. Tearing his gaze from the mansion on the hill, Miles glanced at Vivien once again, pointed to the building, and asked, “Is that the house?”

Vivien nodded silently and, when Miles' expression shifted from confusion to shock, she stated, “They’ve had it longer than I’ve been alive.”

“Holy shit,” Miles breathed as he slowly turned into the driveway, blue eyes flickering over the large home. As he pulled to a stop at the end of the driveway, he shut the truck off and examined the house in more detail. “Are you sure this belongs to the same people who made us bug juice and breakfast for dinner the other day?”

Vivien allowed the corners of her lips to tug upward slightly as she nodded, “It does. They bought this when my mom and Aunt Hayley were little since they wanted them to have enough space to grow and, eventually, bring their families to stay.”

“Wow.” Miles chuckled in a breath, turning to Vivien with a smile that made her relax a little, “Think they’d adopt me and the boys?”

Surprised by the older boy’s statement, Vivien let out a squawk of laughter, staring at him in disbelief before dissolving into giggles. With a shake of her head and a smile, she turned to Miles and sighed, “This isn’t how I thought this would go.”

“How what would go?” Miles asked.

“This,” Vivien said, gesturing between them and the house. “I haven’t brought a lot of people up here, but I thought you’d have more questions about it.”

Miles smiled at the girl and said, “Although I definitely have to say this isn’t what I was expecting - I was thinking more of a house like mine - I’m not entirely surprised your grandparents have this huge house.”

“You aren’t?” Vivien wondered, her eyebrow raising past her soaked bangs. “How come?”

“I’ve seen the pictures of the camp over the years,” Miles stated. “You have to have some serious money coming in to be able to expand the property and build so many new structures on the land.”

“They also have partial ownership of my parents’ winery since it was theirs first,” Vivien added.

“I bet that was a fun switch,” Miles said with a smile.

Taking in another deep breath, Vivien said, “I just don’t get how you’re not curious for more information. I would be.”

Thinking about his reasoning for a moment, Miles asked, “You got the chance to learn all about us when you came to Florida for a while; did you enjoy that?”

“Well, yeah,” Vivien agreed. “I liked getting to know more about you guys and seeing the world you come from.”

“That’s what I mean,” Miles stated. “Now we’re getting the chance to learn more about you and your world, at your pace. We’re not going to push for more than you’re willing to give.”

“Oh,” Vivien breathed. He made a lot of sense.

“Yeah, ‘oh,’” Miles chuckled, reaching over to nudge the girl. “Now, are you going to help me get that generator back to camp, or am I going to have to search the property for it myself?”

“Alright, alright,” Vivien said with a playful roll of her eyes. “Let’s go.”

A typical Thursday at Camp Wanamaker was filled with activities, and most everyone was brought to the soccer field for a sort of field day before the end of the week. However, with rain turning the ground into mud and tree limbs falling all over the place the previous day, most workers were assigned to their typical areas to clean and fix whatever the rain had damaged. Royce was one of the lucky few who hadn’t had to worry as the library ceiling had been redone before winter the previous year, and no leaks had seeped through. Other structures, such as the playhouse, weren’t so fortunate. 

Upon their arrival at the playhouse, Riven and Carrie were saddled with cleaning up the buckets of accumulated water, mopping the floors, and getting everything ready for the end-of-the-week show. On Friday evening, each cabin would go up on stage and show off something they had worked hard on throughout the week for the parents that filled the uncomfortable metal seats they would set out. Though Carrie seemed optimistic and hopeful that the show would go over well for the parents who would come, Riven seemed less enthusiastic.

“If we’re lucky,” he had claimed, “there won’t be any eight-year-olds shooting flaming arrows on stage this year.”

They had propped the doors open with bricks and begun working on carrying out bucket after bucket of water as the rest of the workers got started on fixing set pieces and making sure nothing in the back rooms had gotten damaged in the storm. As Carrie lugged the last bucket of water outside and dumped it into what was now a very well-watered bush on the side of the building, she heard her name being called and froze, looking around for anyone who could have been summoning her. Shrugging, Carrie began heading back for the building, only to hear her name being called once more.

Turning toward the voice as it got closer, Carrie smiled as she saw Vivien barreling toward her with a bright smile, the girl’s hoodie tied securely around her waist and fluttering out behind her like some sort of skirt. “Hey, Vivi,” Carrie called in return, setting her bucket aside and bracing herself for the attack hug the teenager gave to seemingly everyone she cared for. 

Sure enough, the brunette’s arms found security around Carrie’s middle as she bounced excitedly in place. Backing off just enough to capture Carrie’s arms in her hands, Vivien said, “You’ll never guess where my Aunt Hayley and Aunt Charlie are today.”

“Where are they?” Carrie asked, knowing better than to try to guess as she was sure she’d be wrong.

“They’re at a Titanic museum!” Vivien squealed. “Apparently, there’s this museum in the back half of a jewelry store in Massachusetts, and they sent me, like, a zillion pictures of everything, and it looks like so much fun, and I just have to show everyone the pictures.”

The excitement radiating off of Vivien was palpable, and although Carrie certainly didn’t mind being included in the girl’s list of people she wanted to show, she knew that if she didn’t stop Vivien now, the girl wouldn’t stop until she had gone searching all over the camp for everyone else on the list. Beaming her usual smile at the girl, Carrie said, “That’s amazing!”

“I know, right!” Vivien giggled. Peering past Carrie into the playhouse, she asked, “Have you seen Riven? I want to show you both the pictures.” 

Chuckling, Carrie asked, “Why don’t you show everyone at lunch so you don’t have to go running all over creation, searching for everyone?”

Vivien looked ready to say something in her defense, but as the thought took hold and she realized how much sense the blonde’s idea made, she chuckled hesitantly, “I didn’t think of that.”

Carrie let out a short laugh and shook her head before resting her hands on her hips, “Tell me you didn’t leave Miles to handle all of those kids by himself.”

Vivien’s eyes gradually widened as realization dawned on her. Glancing up at the music house where she had abandoned Miles with a few drummers, a handful of hopeful guitarists, and a child who was adamant he wanted to play the tuba for his performance at the end of the week, Vivien sucked in a breath and sighed before glancing back to Carrie. “Yeah,” she breathed, “I might have fucked up a little bit.”

“Yeah,” Carrie snickered. Patting Vivien on the arm, Carrie smiled, “How about you go up there and help him out, and the rest of us will just have to wait until lunch or dinner to see those epic photos of yours?”

“I think I should, yeah,” Vivien breathed. Taking a few steps back, she said, “I’ll see you at lunch.”

“Have fun,” Carrie teased, earning herself a roll of Vivien’s green eyes before the girl turned and took off for the music hall once more. Shaking her head at the girl’s antics, Carrie picked up the bucket she had left on the steps of the playhouse and headed back inside.

Riven met her by the chair racks near the stage and asked, “What was that all about?”

“Viv left Miles alone to deal with a bunch of gremlin children,” Carrie replied as she pulled down a few chairs.

Riven made a face as he took the chairs, “I can’t imagine that’ll go over well.”

“Me neither,” Carrie chuckled as she helped Riven bring over some of the chairs and set them up in organized rows for the show. 

Around the lunch table that noontime, Vivien pulled her phone from her pocket and excitedly passed it around, letting everyone see the pictures her family had sent her during the day. Though most of the conversation revolved around the girl and her excitement for the return of her aunts, and the food ran a bit cold as they each took time to stop and scroll through the images Vivien had received, nobody seemed to mind. They were all simply glad to listen to her ramble on and on about the different artifacts and displays she had been sent pictures of.

Typically, most of the days at Camp Wanamaker are varied and different from each other, but the only constant in an ever-changing schedule is that of Fridays. Friday nights were the host to many events - campfires and beach parties for the workers while the campers had the end-of-week performances. Fridays were the start of the week’s end as, after the end-of-week performances concluded for those who were only staying a short span at the summer camp, some campers would return home with their parents. While most kids waited until Saturday to be picked up, there was always a handful who chose to leave early to spend the full weekend at home.

Fridays were also the only days that the camp would have music constantly filling the air, the speakers throughout the trails playing whatever songs were chosen the day before. For a few, however, the music that played outside the buildings was muted by thick soundproofing and went fairly ignored. Mick wasn’t usually one of those people who sat around in the music hall, playing music to keep herself entertained while others puttered around the camp, intent on being obnoxious on their free day. If anything, she would have preferred to relax on the beach with Butchy and have a peaceful picnic. However, Vivien had practically begged for help as she and Miles had no clue how to help the violinist who wanted to perform a cover of Kate Bush’s Running Up That Hill, and, as any good friend would, Mick had given up her free time to assist in any way she could.

Hours of accompanying the violinist on the piano later, Mick’s hands were cramping, and as she waved a final farewell to the excited child, she let out a relieved sigh. Once the door closed behind the kid, Mick rubbed at her wrists, hoping to quell some of the strain in them as Miles approached her with a knowing smirk. Raising an accusatory finger, Mick scowled, “Not a word.”

Pretending to look offended, Miles placed a hand on his chest and gasped, “Me? Why on earth would I say anything?”

Approaching the pair with a confused expression, “Anything about what?”

Mick sighed, “It’s nothing.”

Miles turned to Vivien with a smirk and explained, “Butchy tried to teach Mick how to play the piano when they first started getting close, and she acted like she had no idea how to play. It was awful.”

“But Mick’s played piano since she was little,” Vivien said slowly. “Why would she need to do that?”

Without giving Mick a chance to clear the air, Miles laughed, “So that he would have to adjust her hands and stay close to her the entire time.”

“That wasn’t the reason!” Mick protested, smacking Miles in the stomach with the back of her hand.

“Oh yeah?” Miles asked. “Then what was?”

Mick looked ready to argue her case, but resigned to sighing and shaking her head as she admitted, “Alright, maybe that was the reason, but I wasn’t bad at acting.”

“You were, too,” Miles chuckled. “You had him wrapped around your finger so quickly that he couldn’t see how terrible your acting skills were.”

Mick rolled her eyes, relenting with a smile as she stood, “Yeah, alright, whatever. Are you guys all set for the show now?”

Vivien met Miles’ gaze questioningly before the pair nodded, and he answered, “We’re good. Are you going to the show or the worker’s campfire?”

“Not sure yet,” Mick claimed as she allowed the pair to lead her toward the door. Turning to Vivien, she asked, “Is your band performing?”

“Not at the show, no,” Vivien replied with a shake of her head. “We’re thinking of playing some favorites tonight either at the campfire if nobody else is playing, but that’s about it.”

Mick hummed as she nodded, “Well, when you guys figure things out, let me know, and I’ll tell the others where to meet tonight.”

Vivien nodded and watched her old friend take to the trails, disappearing in the foliage that graced the walking paths. Heading back inside the music hall, Vivien helped Miles get everything put away before taking a seat on one of the remaining folding chairs and sighing. Smirking at the brunette as she stared up at the vaulted ceiling, Miles nudged Vivien’s foot with his and asked, “What’s up?”

“The ceiling,” Vivien replied, shifting her focus onto the taller male as he took a seat beside her. Sighing again, she admitted, “I’m worried about tonight.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” Miles reassured.

“Says you,” Vivien mumbled. “You pick up a guitar, and everyone loves whatever you play. I make it sound like injured cats screaming for help.”

“You do not,” Miles laughed. “You sound amazing.”

Vivien shook her head, her gaze falling to the slightly tattered Converse she refused to give up despite their condition, “I just don’t think I’m ready to perform for everyone, Miles.”

Noting the girl’s hesitance, Miles reached out and took her fidgeting hands in his, gaining her attention as he declared, “I do. You’ve been practicing, and it shows. If you decide not to play for everyone, that’s fine, but just know that, no matter what, I can tell that you’re ready.”

“You can?”

Miles smiled as he nodded, “I can.”

Scanning Miles’ eyes for any sign of deceit yet finding none, Vivien slowly nodded, “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask,” Miles accepted. Letting go of one of the girl’s hands, Miles latched onto the handle of a guitar case and slid it into view. “Just do me a favor and take this with you before we lock up - even if you don’t play tonight.”

Vivien nodded, accepting the case from Miles as he stood and folded the chair he had perched himself on, bringing it to the rack it belonged on. As Miles made his rounds one last time, Vivien opened the guitar case and peered inside at the guitar she had been practicing on with Miles for the last few days. They had been solely focused on practicing their acoustic version of Take On Me by A-ha as it was one of the only songs Miles had suggested that Vivien knew normally. Taking it slower and piecing the song together bit by bit had shredded the teen’s patience, but as she allowed Miles’ words to sink in and take hold, she smiled to herself. Maybe she could handle it after all.

Later that evening, as she relaxed on the beach, surrounded by only her closest friends, Vivien nudged Miles and asked for the guitar as discreetly as possible. Settling down on the sand in the spot she had risen from moments before, Vivien adjusted her grip on the guitar and took in a deep breath before strumming out a few hesitant chords. As she gained everyone's attention, Vivien focused on the strings under her fingers and began playing the first few notes. Once she had finished the introduction, Vivien swallowed her nervousness and began softly singing the way she did during her practices with Miles, “Talking away, I don't know what I'm to say. I'll say it anyway; today's another day to find you. Shying away, I'll be coming for your love, okay?”

Adjusting her fingers for the chorus and taking in a quick breath, Vivien tried not to jump as Jade’s voice joined hers, “Take on me. Take me on.” Looking up from the guitar just enough to see the beaming smile on the lead singer’s face, Vivien smiled and allowed herself to sing just a bit louder as she continued playing, “I'll be gone in a day or two.”

More voices joined in for the second verse - Mick, Miles, Riven, and Erica, namely - and Vivien found herself relaxing more as more people joined her. Another chorus and a bit of an instrumental break later, Vivien happily let her voice be drowned out as Royce and Bentley joined in from either side of her with unavoidable smiles on their faces. As the song played to its finish, those in the circle applauded, forcing Vivien to let out a laugh of relief as the last coil of tension eased from her shoulders. Once the guitar was out of the way, Royce and Bentley assaulted her with questions, and, for once, Vivien couldn’t think of a better way to end the week.

With all of the anticipation surrounding the end-of-week performances and her own guitar solo, Vivien had been so distracted that, when a phone call from her Aunt Hayley came in early the next morning, she realized that the excitement was far from over. Vivien had begun her day easily enough after that early morning phone call, throwing her blankets back into place and going for a swim to pass the time just a bit quicker before showering and returning to her room to get ready for the day. After all, it wasn’t just every day that her aunts came to camp.

Well, technically, it was as they went every year, but the fact still stood; it was a big day, and she wanted to be ready.

Practically wolfing down breakfast, Vivien found herself looking for something - anything - to keep her mind busy from the crawling time. Royce had offered to read with her, but that hadn’t lasted long as they both realized she had been checking her watch as subtly as possible. Swimming with everyone in the pool hadn’t gone well, as Vivien was too antsy to do much with them. Riven suggested she take some time to bang around on her drums in the music hall, but even that hadn’t gone over too well either, as she ended up checking her phone for any sign of a message.

Eventually deciding she couldn’t continue waiting around for a sign of a message to come through, Vivien handed her phone off to the one person who seemed impervious to her pleading eyes no matter how hard she tried: Carrie. Carrie took the phone hostage with ease and kept it in her pocket, watching with mild sadness as Vivien resorted to pacing the porch that wrapped around the main office and looking over every time the device made a noise. After a while, Carrie had to relinquish her possession of the cell phone as she was asked to help make a batch of punch in the mess hall, but she sent Riven a text before she left, asking him to watch the girl for her. Although Carrie knew that Vivien’s spot on the office porch gave her a good vantage point of the parking lot and the driveway that led to the camp, she wasn’t sure it was wise for the teenager to place herself there for the rest of the day.

Every car that pulled into the parking lot was met with scrutinous yet hopeful stares from a pair of emerald eyes that watched the mouth of the driveway like a hawk. The sixteen-year-old had eventually resigned to sitting on one of the rocking chairs her grandparents had made long before she was born, keeping herself occupied with rocking back and forth, petting her loyal companion as she went. Despite bribes of treats from others, Ding stayed by Vivien’s side, accepting attention from parents and campers alike as they came and went from the campground, yet refusing to leave the girl alone as the others helped parents get their kids ready to leave.

Lunch came and went, yet Vivien stayed in her place. Royce brought two trays from the mess hall and stayed on the porch with his girlfriend, talking with her and trying to keep her occupied for a while. By the time lunch had ended, a large portion of the campers who had signed up for the first week of camp had gone. Pressing a kiss to his girlfriend’s forehead, Royce took their trays and claimed he would return after he brought the trays back to the mess hall, leaving Vivien alone with her thoughts and the camp’s mascot, who greedily worked his way through the bits of hotdogs Vivien had passed him from the extra Royce had brought.

Staring out at the parking lot before her, Vivien sighed and pulled her phone from her pocket. Swiping through her apps, Vivien chose her maps and tracked the distance from the hotel her aunts had stayed at to the camp. Even if they had left at ten, they should have been there already. Two and a half hours had certainly passed since Vivien had received the selfie they had sent her, letting her know they were getting ready to leave. Frowning as she placed her phone on her lap, Vivien glanced up at the road as she heard yet another car pull into the parking lot. To her dismay, the rust-colored Buick Skylark was certainly not the bubblegum pink Volkswagen Beetle she knew Charlie had made Hayley drive for the duration of their journey.

As another child rushed through the screen door, letting it slam behind them as they barrelled out of the office and to their relative’s vehicle, Vivien slouched into her chair and stared up at the overhang that covered the porch. She tried to remain optimistic as much as possible, but it was beginning to become increasingly difficult as more time passed. Thoughts of car accidents, explosions, and a myriad of other horrible disasters flooded Vivien’s mind no matter how hard she tried to keep them at bay. Taking a deep breath, Vivien focused on Ding, pushing her thoughts away as she ran her fingers through the dog’s multicolored fur. Maybe it was something simple like them stopping at a friend’s house along the way and simply not texting - Vivien knew they both had friends in Massachusetts and understood just how much they liked to visit when they could. It wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility.

As Vivien tried to think of something else, a pair of black and white Chuck Taylors with the laces tied around the ankles came into view. Vivien knew of only a few people who did such a thing, and as she looked up, she held up a hand to block the sun as she found Butchy standing above her with a small grin. “What’s up, big guy?” she asked in a sort of sigh, her gaze drifting back toward the dog who had remained by her side for most of the day.

“We’re going down to the lake,” he replied, crouching down beside the girl’s chair so that they were on more even ground.

“Have fun,” Vivien said, forcing the corners of her mouth upward.

Butchy settled his gaze on the younger brunette and restated, “Vivien, I meant all of us. That means you.”

Taking in a slow breath, Vivien sighed, “I can’t. I have to wait for my aunts to get here.”

Resting his elbows on his knees, Butchy asked, “And you don’t think that your grandparents will let you know the minute they walk in the door?”

“No,” Vivien replied quickly, accusatorily, “I know they would. I just-”

“Have been making everyone worry all day,” Butchy interrupted, watching Vivien's expression shift from defensive to something between concern and disappointment. When Vivien said nothing, Butchy continued, “We know you’re excited for your family to get here, but keeping watch like this will only serve to drag things out. If you keep yourself busy, time will go by faster, and they’ll be here sooner.”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried that already?” Vivien scoffed, slouching in her chair. “Nothing I’ve tried has worked yet.”

With a heavy sigh and a shake of his head at Vivien’s apparent defeat, Butchy gestured to the door and offered, “Alright, well, if you insist on staying out here in this heat, why don’t you come in and get some juice to keep yourself hydrated?”

Though she felt the slightest hint of deception in his words - a plan of some sort she was sure he had planned - Vivien ignored her instincts and nodded, placing her phone on the table between the rocking chairs and sighing, “Yeah, alright.”

Butchy smiled and pushed himself back to his full height as Vivien stood. Once she had stretched, the tension in her body coming out in creaks and pops, Butchy quickly ducked low, hauling the teenager over his shoulder in a sort of fireman’s carry as she let out a screech of surprise. “Sorry, piccola,” Butchy apologized, sounding very not sorry as he made his way down the porch steps and away from the main office, “but you need a break, and if you’re not going to take one on your own, I’m going to make sure you do.”

Vivien fought along the way, digging her elbows into the older brunet’s back and kicking her legs in an attempt to escape, but Butchy was firm in his decision, and, as the pine needle pathways parted into a sandy beach, the girl finally relaxed. “Okay, I get it; I need to stop worrying so much,” she tried. “You can put me down now.”

“Not yet,” Butchy claimed, a hint of mirth in his tone as he stepped onto the wooden pier that stretched out over the water.

Figuring out the biker’s plan just a moment too late, Vivien’s voice rose as she hollered, “You better not push me in!”

“He won’t,” another voice replied. As Butchy lowered Vivien to the wooden slats, she turned to find Miles standing to the side with a smile, Riven standing just behind him with a knowing smirk. Piping up again, Miles said, “But we just might.”

Vivien was fast and could easily outrun Miles, this she knew, but even she had to admit Riven would reach her long before she reached the shore. Deciding she wasn’t one to give up easily, Vivien turned, ducked around Butchy, and shoved him toward the edge of the pier with a push to the chest before bolting. Sure enough, about halfway down the pier, a pair of arms wrapped around Vivien’s middle and hauled her into the air, her knees pulling to her chest out of instinct as she shrieked. Though she attempted to pry Riven’s arms from around her waist, Vivien knew it was a lost cause as he dragged her back to the spot where the piers met.

Miles caught one of Vivien’s ankles as she kicked his way and snagged the other when she froze in surprise. Then, as Riven’s grasp slid and his hands gripped under Vivien’s arms, her eyes widened, and she screeched, “Don’t you fucking dare!”

Though she could only see Miles’ beaming smile, she could hear Riven’s as he decided, “On the count of three, Miles?”

“No!” Vivien exclaimed as Miles nodded, and Butchy stepped forward to remove the girl’s glasses. 

“One,” Miles began.

“Two,” Riven continued.

Vivien watched as Miles nodded to Riven and glanced up at the clear, blue sky as they counted the dreaded final number in unison, “Three!”

Time slowed as Vivien sailed through the air; the only thoughts filling her head were those of murder - three slow, torturous murders that she now had to commit. Maybe she would use rat poison or antifreeze. Perhaps, if they were lucky, she would be merciful and use eye drops in their drinks. As the cool water of the lake engulfed Vivien, her mind emptied, and her eyes wrenched shut as she slid beneath the chilled water’s surface. Grateful to have been dumped in a deeper part of the lake, Vivien kicked her way to the surface and took in a deep breath as she pushed her hair from her face.

With her first breath of air, she gasped, “You dickheads are going to die!”

The blurry figure on the left chuckled, “You can’t kill us if you can’t see us, kiddo.”

“Don’t care, asshat,” Vivien grumbled. “I just washed these shorts, and now they need to be washed again. You’ll die for this.”

“Well, at least she’s focused on killing us instead of worrying about when Hayley and Charlie will get here,” the blur in the middle declared.

“Yeah.” Chuckling, the last of the three blurry stooges turned his head toward Vivien and taunted, “Did that cool you off any, Pip?"

“Ha-fucking-ha, you ass,” Vivien snarked. Although it had certainly cleared her mind of the racing thoughts that had kept her on edge throughout the day, she wasn’t going to admit that to them. “Will you three just get me out of here so I can change?”

“Are you going to hang out on the beach with us once you’re done?” the voice in the middle that she recognized as Butchy’s asked.

Sighing, Vivien nodded as she stretched out a hand, “If it means I can go wash the seaweed smell from my hair, yeah.”

It took the three men little time to pull a waterlogged Vivien from the lake, but it took even less time for her, in all of her puddling glory, to chase them back down the pier to the sand once she received her glasses. After shoving two of the three men into the shallower water and tackling Riven to the sand with a flying leap, Vivien retreated to the lodge, where she squelched her way to her room to grab something to change into and trailed a line of lake water to the bathroom where she quickly showered. Once she had ditched her sodden clothing into the hamper to be washed as soon as possible and changed into something dry, Vivien dried the puddles she had left in her wake and made her way out to the sand where everyone had gathered.

Royce shifted to the left to allow Vivien a place to sit between himself and Bentley, smiling as he asked, “Where were you?”

“Taking a shower,” Vivien replied.

“How come?” Bentley asked. “It’s not even close to lights out.”

Instead of giving a direct answer, Vivien sent a playful glare at the three men who sat across from them and said, “Ask the three stooges over there.”

Riven, Miles, and Butchy quickly looked away, eager to avoid the questioning glances the rest of the group sent their way. Eventually, Vivien dismissed the topic, and conversations began to flow once more. Gradually, Vivien felt herself relax as she dug her feet into the sand and allowed herself to laugh at Carrie and Riven’s retelling of their day in the playhouse - something about a rather unfortunate mishap involving wet paint and the new air conditioner they had just put in. Time glided by like a bird catching a gust of wind, and after what felt like only minutes went by, Vivien jumped as she heard a familiar voice call her name. 

Turning toward the line where the pine needle paths met the sandy beach, Vivien’s smile broadened as she spotted a tan-skinned, brunette woman with a Titanic shirt sliding through the sand who dragged a woman with dark skin and a head of almost neon pink braids behind her. “Vivien!” the woman in front called.

“Aunt Hayley!” Vivien hollered in return, pushing herself to her feet and stumbling through the sand as she ran toward the pair. Colliding with the taller of the two women, Vivien laughed as the older woman dropped the bag she had been holding and enveloped her in a tight embrace.

Smiling a the sight, the woman with the pink braids put her hands on her hips and asked, “What am I - chopped liver?”

Releasing her grip on her Aunt Hayley, Vivien let out a breath of a laugh and brought her arms around the shorter woman’s shoulders, “Of course.”

“If that’s the case,” the woman drawled, a teasing tone in her voice, “maybe I should just forget about all those souvenirs we brought back for you.”

Vivien’s eyes ignited like fireworks as she leaned back enough to smile at the woman, “Only the best chopped liver in the world.”

“Mhm,” Charlie hummed, a smirk settling on her face. “Thought so.”

Before allowing either of the women to break out the items they had returned with, Vivien gestured toward the group she had been sitting around with, took one of their hands in hers, and began rambling, “Now that you’re here, you can meet all of my friends, and we can share stories and hang out together and, even though I’ve told you all about them, I’m sure you’ll love to hear it all again and-”

As Vivien continued her long-winded, borderline-incoherent ramblings showcasing how genuinely excited she was for some of her favorite people to finally meet, Hayley and Charlie shared a look, smiling knowingly as the brunette before them ranted and raved about her summer and the people they had only seen pictures of prior to their arrival at Camp Wanamaker. With any luck, they would have names memorized by the end of the week and be able to enjoy watching everyone grow as time went on. They had claimed that excitement always seemed to fill every corner of Camp Wanamaker, and with a few new characters added to the fray of their normal summer group, that fact seemed to be all the more truthful.

[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-todoroki]

Here for You

Here For You by Stratagem

Shouto is bummed out, contemplative, and moping on Hawks and Fuyumi's porch. He's also letting his niece put bows in his hair. Hawks tries to be helpful even though he feels a little out of his depth.

Words: 2997, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 3 of snowbirds (hawks/fuyumi)

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

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M, Gen

Characters: Takami Keigo | Hawks, Todoroki Shouto, Todoroki Fuyumi, Original Child Character(s)

Relationships: Takami Keigo | Hawks/Todoroki Fuyumi, Todoroki Shouto/Yaoyorozu Momo, Takami Keigo | Hawks & Todoroki Shouto

Additional Tags: Relationship Advice, Family Feels, Hawks is trying to give advice but he didn't date much, Jealous Todoroki Shouto, Minor Awase Yousetsu/Yaoyorozu Momo, Todoroki Shouto is a Dork, protect him, Hawks trying to be a good brother in law, Parental Takami Keigo | Hawks, Parental Todoroki Fuyumi, Also Shouto is a very patient uncle who lets his niece braid his hair, 2nd gen, Future Fic

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46912855

[thelastbraincellofthehive]

Well, I'm watching volume 3 and honestly I have so many thoughts about it I'm gonna make a first half and second half post. Buckle up because y'all now this is a wild ride! Also buckle up because this is were I start having some very controversial opinions lol.s

The show was airing the first half of this volume when I first got into it (it was somehow because of some amazing Ever After High fanart lol I still remember) so actually, Yang and Mercury's fight was my first experienced hiatus, you can imagine my distress lol.

Every volume the list of women who could step on me grows. But honestly, Winter is on top of that list. It's like they created her with all my weaknesses in mind...

The vytal festival fights are hilarious lol as the kids said, It was nice to see them all fight in a controlled and friendly enviroment instead of fighting actual murderers.

Yatsu and Coco and that poor team in the chapter 1 flashback did fight actual murderers tho, RIP to them (?

It's brawl in the family will forever be one of my favorite episodes lol Winter and Qrow simply steal the show everytime they're on the screen!

Also, I get other ships with the characters and understand why people doesn't like Snowbird... But I've had many people who don't watch the show watch that fight scene and the general consensus is always that they were flirting. That's the most sexual tension I've seen in this show, and we've had actual romantic partners interacting more than once lol

Anyways I ship Snowbird/Qrowin...

Subject change. Remember that scene when Mercury goes to tell Cinder he saw Qrow? At the end Cinder tells he and Emmerald to 'go to their rooms' ...but arem't they supposedly sharing a room since they're partners? Beacon teams all share a room so I don't get why they wouldn't lol.

I wish we could've seen more of Ciel Soleil, honestly, she was such a cutie lol. Kinda hoping She's brought back someday. If you are a fanfic writer and haven't tried to use Ciel as something like Penny's awkward and superserious bodyward in an AU, you should think about It, girl has potential!

"If you were one of my men I'd have you shot!" "if I were one of your men I'd shot myself" still one of the most iconic and epic moments in the series lol Go Qrow!!

Neon!!! God I loved Neon in this volume lol that girl is insuferable! She's also GayAF, I know It.

I'm the one is such a banger of a song! Top 3 of the volume, easily. Also, that fight is awesome, I adore seeing all the clues for what happened next now that, you know, I know what happened next lol.

Velvet worried about Coco <3 let these two be girlfriends!!

Winter fighting Qrow because he was drunk it's so painful after we learn about her family life. Trauma is a bitch.

Also, can I just say that I miss Willow? I knew I was gonna love her, but it was even more than I was expecting, I hope we get more Willow soon.

That scene in Ozpin's office when Ironwood looks at Oz, Glynda and Qrow before sighing and leaving is so telling of where his story was going. He was part of a team, yet he felt like it was him against the world. It's sad how much the others tried to show him their trust, but he was so into his fear that he couldn't see it.

I know this is a very controversial topic for the whole FNDM and that it was disproved multiple times, but I'll never get why would it be so bad if Ruby was Qrow's daughter. The signs are all there, It would make so much sense, and I don't feel it would've taken anything from the story. Alas, it wasn't meant to be*shrugs*

Penny tackling Ruby to the ground as a greeting is tradition <3 also she's always looking back at Ruby with the biggest smile on her face before leaving <3 God Penny is the most adorable girl I've ever seen. And my Nuts and Dolts shipping heart is so happy<3 and sad

Seeing Weiss and Winter interact always warms and breaks my heart at the same time, it's so obvious there's a lot of love there, but half of the time they don't really know how to show it. Again, trauma is a bitch.

Yang, baby </3 my heart breaks for you everytime I watch chapter 6. Honestly, I never fully forgave Mercury after that lol.

Pyrrha. Deserved. Better. Say it with me Rooster teeth!!!! God the whole vault scene is painful.

Also, Glynda: "We're still the same headmasters and teachers you knew the day you arrived to Beacon" Pyrrha: "This is literally the first time I met half the people here!"

Yes, I'm using dumb humor to deal with trauma

I lowkey ship WeissxFlynt honestly... Flynt's cool, I want more Flynt please.

But my imposible otp for Weiss still hasn't been introduced. If you follow me you know who I'm talking about and I'm willing to die on that hill. RT I'll forgive you for literally everything aside the v8 finally if you make them canon. Literally!!

You only get off the hook for v8 if you give me Nuts and Dolts.

I stan my point that Ironwood was hoping to have Penny eventually become a maiden and that's why she exist in the first place. I'm guessing the whole thing with the virus made him reconsider and that's why he turned to Winter later? Maybe?

Anyways, I still can't believe this is the tame half of the volume. I guess time to keep going and get my heart rip apart again. Good talk guys!

[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-hawks]

Here for You

Here For You by Stratagem

Shouto is bummed out, contemplative, and moping on Hawks and Fuyumi's porch. He's also letting his niece put bows in his hair. Hawks tries to be helpful even though he feels a little out of his depth.

Words: 2997, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 3 of snowbirds (hawks/fuyumi)

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

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M, Gen

Characters: Takami Keigo | Hawks, Todoroki Shouto, Todoroki Fuyumi, Original Child Character(s)

Relationships: Takami Keigo | Hawks/Todoroki Fuyumi, Todoroki Shouto/Yaoyorozu Momo, Takami Keigo | Hawks & Todoroki Shouto

Additional Tags: Relationship Advice, Family Feels, Hawks is trying to give advice but he didn't date much, Jealous Todoroki Shouto, Minor Awase Yousetsu/Yaoyorozu Momo, Todoroki Shouto is a Dork, protect him, Hawks trying to be a good brother in law, Parental Takami Keigo | Hawks, Parental Todoroki Fuyumi, Also Shouto is a very patient uncle who lets his niece braid his hair, 2nd gen, Future Fic

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46912855

[rjdavies]

Celebrating Amazing Women for the Month of March: Lieutenant Colonel Maryse Carmichael

Celebrating Inspirational Women throughout the month of March.

Lieutenant Colonel Maryse Carmichael

Born: May 29, 1971 in Quebec City, Quebec

She has be inducted into Canada’s Aviation Hall of Fame in 2022. A 22 year veteran of the Royal Canadian Air Force, and has logged more than 3,500 hours of flying time. Maryse is the first female pilot and commanding officer of the Snowbirds Air Demonstration Team. She is a pilot and instructor. 

At five years old she watched her first air show and knew in that moment, that’s what she wanted to do. In 1984 she joined the Air Cadets. In 1990 she joined the Canadian Forces and completed her flight training in 1994. 

In November 2000, she returned to Moose Jaw, and joined the team as Snowbird 3.  Maryse made history by becoming the first woman to fly with the Snowbirds Aerobatic Team as well as the first woman to fly with any jet aerobatic display team. She was promoted to Major and became the display’s show Team Executive Officer. From there she made the Deputy Wing Operations Officer. From there she was stationed at Trenton with 436 (Transport) Squadron, where she served as the Squadron Operations Officer flying the C-130 Hercules between 2007 and 2009. 

In 2010 she again made history after being promoted to Lieutenant-Colonel when Maryse became the Commanding Officer of 431 Squadron – making her now the first woman to command Canada’s demonstration team. She was responsible for a fleet of 20 jets and 90 personnel.

After retiring, she joined the CAE where she’s worked as a Communication and Government Relations Manager, Training Center Operations Manager, and a Special Advisor for the Future Aircrew Training contract, Canada’s next-generation pilot and aircrew training procurement. 

She is also a member of the Ninety-Nines, the International Chapter of Women in Aviation, the Snowbirds Alumni Association, and the Honourable Company of Air Pilots. She has also been named as one of the 100 most powerful women in Canada. 

R. J. Davies

A Riveting Jacked-In Dreamy Mind-Bender

RJ Davies - Science Fiction Author, Maddox Files, Novels

[organised-disaster]

EVERYBODY STOP AND LOOK AT THESE COOLL AS SHIT DRAWINGS A FRIEND OF MINE MADE AFTER BEING EXPOSED TO SNOWBIRD

[booksbea]

Chance Meeting

Chapter 40: Family Rating: E - this chapter is M, however Relationship: Qrowin Tag: Slice of Life, Adventure and Romance, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comedy, Slow Burn, Pre-Canon, Military, Canon-Typical Violence, Age Difference, Canon Compliant Author’s note: Qrowin Week 2020 Day 1 Submission; I decided to continue my Chance Meeting Fic and used the prompts as inspiration. So...most will not stand only fics - sorry. However, the AUs will be! c:

Family. 

The word lingered in the back of Qrow’s mind, a subtle musical note that never seemed to turn off or pause. It was always in a slow tempo. Soft. Reliable. He reflected on the word, on the people that he considered or once considered to be family; the living, the dead, and the lost. 

He thought of the Branwen Tribe that he abandoned and his parents who passed away when he was a toddler. He thought of Raven who has lost her way and of Summer who never returned. He thought of his nieces and Taiyang back in Patch, living in the log house Taiyang built by hand and dragged him into helping. 

Then, his mind would wander to the family he doesn’t have yet. The thought used to make him nauseous. Marriage and children and settling down, it never would be in his cards. He was sure. He didn’t have a father growing up and the tribe merely taught him how to fight and kill. There was no love there. Only a tolerance of his existence. What would he be able to offer as a father to his children? And for years he tried to avoid thinking about starting a family, and if he did, he would imagine blank features on his children’s faces. A home in ruins. Him leaving constantly due to his fear of his semblance and his loyalty to Ozpin’s mission. 

Read the rest here. Start the fic from the beginning here.

[bonefall]

sorry I;m new and it's a lot to catch up on but can you briefly explain your better call mapleshade au?

Sure thing! As long as you don't mind that I'm gonna hijack your ask to answer a few other meta things at the same time! @katiek101 Rounding up your replies over here.

Btw never be afraid to just ask me questions about stuff, I need to update my Masterpost because I haven't added to it in a couple weeks but I'm always willing to just link people to stuff when asked!

What is the Better Call Mapleshade AU?

I summarized it in this reblog, which also contains @nightly-ruse design for BCM Mapleshade!

"Mapleshade is able to get into StarClan through a very slim ruling out of sympathy for the loss of her kits. She’s a prosecutor/defense attorney motivated by her own desire to be highly revered, playing as a literal “devil’s advocate“ against the awful choices we see StarClan make in canon.

In contrast to StarClan being the ‘council of well-meaning angels‘ who cause bad outcomes, Mapleshade is a self-concerned demon who makes good ones. Because of that, she looks somewhat out of place. An opposer for StarClan, a devil for a good cause.

The AU was born out of some joking with “Snowbird Anon” (hence the name #Better Call Mapleshade AU) and then evolved into an actual premise because my followers are literally the coolest"

It is separate from the #Bonefall Rewrite, but was inspired by aspects of it, namely a trial scene that is going to happen in Darkstar's Commandment.

though to be fair, I am considering just absorbing it into the rewrite. but for now they are still two separate, but related concepts

Do you plan to write/publish any aspects of the Bonefall Rewrite? Where would it be posted if so?

I WISH. Unfortunately I'm chronically unable to finish anything and only motivated by talking directly to people (I actually write first drafts of college essays in discord DMs). In a perfect world I would love to make full multi-chapter fics of the Super Edition rewrites such as Darkstar's Commandment and Firestar's Quietus, though.

Maybe one day, if I can speak to a psychiatrist! **laughs in undiagnosed neurodivergence**.

SO for now, everything is notes! Notes notes notes and rough drafts. The things I AM able to finish. If I ever wrote out anything, I would upload it to AO3. I promise I would make a post if that ever happens.

THE CURRENT NOTES I'M EDITING: Darkstar's Commandment, a follow-up story to Mapleshade's Vengeance, following Darkstar as she establishes the law about protecting kittens.

Blackstar, Russetfur, Rowanclaw

I powered through all of the "History Has Its Eyes On You" series in like 3 days between bus rides! I really like the take on them being a complicated couple (I keep thinking of that line, "their nests were as close as could be without being close at all") and my favorite story was the one where Russetfur went to bury Smokepaw.

Things are really different in my take, though! I see Blackstar as exclusively MLM and Russetfur is his WLW bestie. If Russet has children, they'll be honor dammed and raised by someone else.

I think you will quite like what I'm planning for Russetfur's death. It's a moment of deep pain for Blackstar that makes him relapse into some old, bad habits, leaving him wide open for Sol's influence.

Blackstar's sister Fernshade is going to have surviving children with Wolfstep (Ivytail is one of them, who eventually has Gullswoop), and I'm considering giving Flintfang a kitten or two as well. So there won't be a need for Blackstar to have kids anyway, besides, I like the idea that he's sort of Ivytail's embarrassing uncle, in a ShadowClan way where he's super intimidating to other clans.

And so Rowanclaw won't be part of that family... he is a son of Brokenstar. Same litter as Littlecloud, from Newtspeck. He will be bonding heavily with Tawnypelt over a shared experience of inheriting something VERY heavy.

Firestar's Quest with Brokenstar Details

The good deets are in this ask over here, but I really need to sit down and make a draft of it sometime soon. I'm held up on Darkstar's Commandment first, lmao

In a nutshell, Brokenstar was actually a nature spirit the whole time, the ghost of the 5th tree at Fourtrees. After the exile, the oak tree was blighted, fell over, and cracked on the highstone. It broke in the shape of Broken's tail; an omen of the curse that would befall them, revenge for the greatest sin of the clans.

This is (Brokenstar's Cataclysm)

After his death, he reconnects to these memories. In order for his restless spirit to finally be given peace, SkyClan must be resurrected. Runningnose enlists Firestar to help because he's such a little goody-goody two shoes and could never let an ancient wrong go unrighted. Hilarity ensues.

This is (Firestar's Quietus)

[paisley-print]

Near The Water’s Edge:  Chapter One

After fleeing your abusive husband, you find yourself in the small coastal town of July, North Carolina. Soon you meet Frankie Morales, Air Force Veteran and single dad. As the two of you grow closer, you begin to let go of your past and learn to love again. That is until a strange man shows up in town, and you 're forced to choose between your safety or the safety of the people that you love.

Inspired by the novel “Safe Haven” written by Nicolas Sparks. 

Frankie Morales x Female Reader 

Rating: 18+ / Heavy adult themes eventual smut.

Trigger Warnings: Domestic Abuse, Drowning, Dark Water. 

Word Count: 1744

Note: I tagged everyone who liked the original posts. To stay on the permanent list please either send me a message or write it on the post. Enjoy <3 

Series Master List

Chapter One 

Aggressively American, that was the only fitting description of the place you found yourself in. July was a coastal town located in the southern part of North Carolina. It was pronounced like ‘Julie’ but nobody ever called it that. It had been the farthest place your two hundred dollars in cash could take you; and as the greyhound pulled away, you wondered if you should have chosen Nebraska instead. 

It wasn’t that the town was dirty, quite the opposite actually...it just felt manufactured. Too perfect to be real. The streets were named things like Liberty and Independence. The shop fronts were brick and all along the main street there were American flags and flower pots holding red, white and blue geraniums.

The name Norman Rockwell came to mind. 

As you walked along the main street, you surveyed the many shopfronts. To a passerby it seemed as though you were looking to buy something - in your mind, however, your thoughts were racing.

‘I made a mistake, I know I did.’ You analyzed the last few hours, replaying the memories over and over again as if on VHS; scrutinizing every last detail. ‘He would track me down, find me - by morning. Should I go back? No- it was too late for that.’

It was still early in the afternoon, but finding a place to sleep tonight was paramount. The trip had taken eleven hours straight through. Only ever stopping to change buses and refuel - you were exhausted and your muscles ached. 

‘Food,’ you thought ‘I should eat…’ 

But did you have enough? Depending on how much a motel cost around here, you figured you would only have enough to cover a room for one night. So food would have to wait. 

As you rounded a corner, you were met with the sight of the bay. It wasn’t anything like the brown water in New Jersey, the water here was a deep green. The boats created little swells along the surface, and the sun’s glint off the peaks made it look like the water was filled with emeralds. 

On the left side of the street stood a marina and dockside restaurant. The smell of food made your stomach grumble. On the right side was a series of Victorian style houses, stone pillars and large porches dominated the structures. 

A sign in front of one had caught your attention: American Dreams B&B.

‘Jesus’ you thought ‘they’re really leaning into this whole aesthetic aren’t they?’

A bell on the front door chimed as you entered. The decor of the place looked dated; as if it hadn’t been touched since the 80s. Lots of wood tones and floral patterns. You didn’t mind it though…. it made you feel at home. 

An older woman was sitting at the front desk watching a soap opera on a little TV perched on the counter. She looked up and smiled as you approached. 

“Hello there. How can I help you today?”

“Do you have any rooms open?”

“Sure do, we have three vacancies right now.”

Relief washed over you, “what’s the nightly rate for the smallest?”

“That would be the pink room at $175 a night.”

More than you had anticipated…. “All take it, thank you.”

The woman turned to the computer. The monitor was old and heavy- it looked bigger than the TV. “Driver’s license?”

You hadn’t even thought of that… “I don’t have one, would a birth certificate work?” 

You cringed at the sound of it. Who carries around a birth certificate as identification? It was all you had, so you gave it to her, however you knew that the odd request made you stick out in the woman’s mind. Surely she would remember you if someone came asking…

The woman hesitated but took the certificate, reading it out loud “Summer Emma Sparks.”

You swallowed hard and shifted on your feet, feeling sick. The circumstances surrounding how you secured the certificate flooding your mind...

‘I needed it,’ you remind yourself.

The woman, whose name you found out to be Mae, handed you a key and sent you on your way. Now the plan would be to look for a job, something that worked off of tips. Having as much cash available to take with you at a moment’s notice was important. First, though, you would sleep. 

And as the tide lapped against the boat dock across the street, you slipped into the darkest, soundest slumber you had in years. You were safe for the time being. 

-

There was something to be said about the little joys surrounding small town life. In New Jersey neighbors barely knew each other, and would even go so far as to avert their eyes or turn their backs when passing them on the street. Here though, people were kind. 

Too kind sometimes, always pressing you with questions...you couldn’t fault them for it though. If you were here under normal circumstances, you would have welcomed such friendly chatter. It almost pained you to be so dismissive, but you needed to be, for your safety and theirs. The less anybody knows about you, the better. 

You set down a tray of empty cups and looked at the clock on the wall, debating whether to take another table. Even though your shift technically didn’t end for another twenty minutes, most of the night servers were already here and the day had been long.

You managed to get a job at the restaurant next to the marina on your second day in town. The owner suggested you start the following weekend, but you persuaded him to let you train that day just so you could get the free meal that they provided with every shift. The tips weren’t enough to buy a hotel room though, and so you had to sleep on the beach that night.

Thankfully, the tips for the last few days had been good, allowing you to buy a week in the bed-and-breakfast. Most of the servers at the restaurant were teenagers who could only work the evenings, allowing you to take as many morning and afternoon shifts as you wanted. Sometimes there would be another server with you, but most days you were alone. You didn’t mind one bit, the dining room was small and easy for you to handle by yourself. 

You had your eye on a few rental properties on the far side of town. A mobile home community offering one bedroom complexes for dirt cheap prices. You were suspicious at first, but after taking a walk through the neighborhood you realized most of the people who lived there were snowbirds or weekend warriors. 

Those residents who did live their full time seemed like you, friendly people who had fallen on bad times. They weren’t the confederate flag wielding, dip spitting, rednecks you first thought they would be; and for that you were thankful. 

“Summer….. Summer.” 

You turned suddenly, remembering that was your name. “Yeah?”

Your boss was holding two containers of soup “do me a favor and put these in the fridge before you go?”

“Of course,” you said, allowing him to pass the containers off to you. 

The fridge was a separate unit out back; it looked like a little shed. From where you were, you could see a full view of the marina. It was set a little farther back than the restaurant. To the left, lines of boats bobbed up and down with the tide. There was a parking lot next to that, then at the very end was a house... or what you assumed was a house. 

Elevated about six feet on stilts and spanning two stories high. It wasn’t anything like the grand Victorians that stood opposite of it. It was unassuming, modern and clean. Your eyes fixed on movement off to the side. Below the house to the right, you noticed a little girl. She had to be no more than three years of age, reaching for something over the bulkhead. A feeling of dread clutched at your stomach. 

‘She’s going to fall’ you thought suddenly. 

Both containers of soup hit the ground and exploded - painting the side of the building. You didn’t even notice as you sprinted down the shelled driveway towards the house. The splash came as soon as you threw open the gate and without even a moment of hesitation; you jumped into the water. 

It was freezing, like little needles pricking your skin from all sides. The salt water stung your eyes like something wicked, but you forced yourself to keep them open. You scanned what was around you, murky green darkness and foliage that reached up from the sand like the tendrils of a kraken. Threatening to grab you and pull you down into its watery depths. 

Your eyes landed on a flash of pink below. With all of your strength you pushed yourself forward, hooking an arm around the girl and bringing you both to the surface. Just as you broke through the world above, you saw a man skid to a stop and reach for the girl in your arms. 

You gasped, and the little girl coughed and hiccuped... then started to cry. It was music to your ears; it meant that she was breathing. You held the girl up as far as possible; the man took her and moved away from the bulkhead. 

“Make sure she’s okay,” you choked, the water assaulting your senses. You tread for a moment longer before the man reappeared and offered you his hand. You took it and he pulled you from the water easily. 

Bracing yourself on the bulkhead you brought your weight over the rest of the way. The man immediately turned his attention back to the little girl, bringing her to his chest and clutching her as she wailed. 

You blinked, hands coming up to rub the salt from your eyes, the world coming back into focus. The man was older, wearing a navy blue baseball cap and a grey flannel. 

His brown eyes still held a spark of panic in them as he looked at you. “I don’t know how I could ever thank you enough….she was right there, then I turned around and….” He held onto her a little tighter and sighed, closing his eyes. The little girl was settling into a mess of sniffles and whimpers. “Don’t ever do that again, baby,” he breathed. 

-

-

-

Tag List For This Chapter Only:

@heythere-mel @aquilacorvinal @krystlebee​ @pedro-pascal1503 @giizhkens-cedar @luckystrikesalterego​ @rayofhalsey @almost-golden-again @myheart-pedro @the-cosmic-ghost-18 @sewmanystitchssewlittletime @wwwbackslashcreedthoughts @anabundanceofmeg @petermj213​

Permanent Tag List: 

@hnt-escape 

[ao3feed-todoroki]

Sand in the Bottom Half of the Hourglass

Sand in the Bottom Half of the Hourglass by Stratagem

After a rough night of crime-fighting (flying autonomous cars are tricky), Hawks still holds up his promise to take his and Fuyumi's kids to play tag with Eri, who is training to use the binding cloth capture weapon. Sure, for the kids, it's kind of Quirk practice, but it's also a lot of fun. Some other familiar faces show up to watch the shenanigans and egg on the competitors. Mild chaos ensues.

Words: 2117, Chapters: 1/3, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of snowbirds (hawks/fuyumi)

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

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Takami Keigo | Hawks, Todoroki Fuyumi, Original Child Character(s)

Relationships: Takami Keigo | Hawks/Todoroki Fuyumi

Additional Tags: Family Fluff, Family Bonding, Training Montage, huwumi, everything is fluffy, Family Feels

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46045186

[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 😭