#the way I have to grit my teeth at using that portmanteau

[booasaur]

Idk if you've seen the Woensdag 10:02 clip or not but if you haven't then the following are a bit spoilery.

I'm so happy with the recent development of Anaïs and Bobbie! It is SO good to see Bobbie smile again ahah, it was hell seeing them pining from afar and Bobbie with her sad eyes.

Also! Anaïs and Bobbie is so fucking good at communicating with their eyes??? Like?? Whoa Laura and Nell are such a good actresses.

And i need more of the kisses!

I loved that clip! So satisfying to see Anais caring enough and having the trust in herself to go and talk to Bobbie instead of the show waiting for some coincidence or Event to throw them together again. And lol, then of course Bobbie's like, okay, why do you think I didn't mean it when I kissed you.

I also really liked them talking in the cafe after, one of the best things about their dynamic has been how, despite Anais's natural politeness, the way they met and Bobbie's personality just overrode it completely so she started off rather resentfully honest but Bobbie's so chill and finds Anais so interesting that it's led to this perfect, comfortable dynamic immediately.

And yeah, they have great chemistry, they're very much like Station 19's Marina in that they're very good at conveying their interest with just body language, especially the eye contact. Kudos to the directors for using as many closeups as they do and letting these moments play out as long as they do, even without dialogue.

The eps are going by so fast for me, I saw people being upset at Anais backing away from the first kiss and the few clips of angst after and I was thinking, well, surely they've still got to get together and break up at least twice, we're still so early?? But then I realized, we're actually almost halfway through... But I still feel like we'll get a bunch more on/off hot/cold drama now, considering what I remember of Druck and the gifs/posts I'd see about Skams Spain and France.

I guess you liked last night's clip? :P I have to say, I keep seeing people throw around the word "toxic" and...I mean, they're kids who've only met recently and JUST gotten together. Yeah, Bobbie seems to have issues, both do, no doubt, but I feel like there needs to be much more of a pattern and intentionality and refusal to change to be considered toxic, at the moment it's just, needing to learn and grow and there's still a fair amount of time for that. Nobody's gonna be perfect off the bat, especially not in the middle of a Skam season. :P

[luckyshotwrites]

Yandere Vore 3 - FOREVER (Neutral Ending)

In case you haven't read the past parts: Yandere Vore Master Post-It

Contents Warning (Spoilers): Willing prey, Willing Pred, Half size Difference, ?/M Teasing/Threatening, vore mentions, and Possessiveness.

Word count: 1091

(He does have a name now, Portmanteau, (Port for short) shout out to @fairlyqualityanon for helping me with it. A few skips ahead. ENJOY!)

--------------------------------------------------------------

After my failed escape attempt, he made sure to tie me to the bed every time he left. He'd keep my wrists and ankles bound with rope to the posts. So tightly that any simple twist burned. Not that I wanted to keep trying anyway. There was no point. If I somehow slipped from them, I wouldn't be able to leave the house again. I spoiled my last chance.

The dread pressed into me. It's how I thought Port's knife might feel if he ever snapped. There were times he'd point it at me when I disobeyed before dropping it. Or he'd be rough handling me. If he held me and I pulled away, he'd squeeze me hard into himself. Almost like he wanted his body to mold around me and keep me incased.

If Port was around, he ALWAYS had to have me near him and in his sight. And anytime I looked at a door or window, he would tell me, "no one WILL EVER take you away from me," with the same overwhelming infatuation I never understood.

I won't escape him, will I? I questioned every day, getting enveloped by the same routine. I'd wake up with him and be alone for hours staring at the chips in the wood ceiling. I got to know every little line and crevice. And started to desperately await his return, even crave it.

I wanted to see his affectionate smile and hear him tell me how good I had been while he petted me. I needed affirmation to hope I didn't get bound up again. I didn't want to be left alone. The three hours felt like years.

And it turned into regret and remorse. I shouldn't have tried to run. Why did I do that? There was a frustration growing at my core. He feeds me, he clothes me, and he keeps me safe. Why would I want to run away? I let out a soft scream. I talked so little that I sensed like I couldn't anymore unless it was to respond to him. To obey him. That was truly the only way I knew peace. When he didn't threaten, prod, or harshly tease me.

The days mashed together at one point, and I couldn't take it as he got ready to tie me up again. His hands came down, and I ran into him. I hugged his leg the best I could, my head near his hip. I could only wrap around one of his legs.

"Please, don't leave me," I begged and looked up at him.

The suddenness caught him off guard.

"I'm sorry, Port." I whimpered with a croak in my voice. "I shouldn't have ever tried to leave you. I didn't understand; I didn't know." I pressed into his leg, "I'll never do it again."

My strike left us in silence. I held on. 

"I know yo-you'll never trust me."

His swirling red hue bore down on me, and a severe crack whipped out, "you're trying to trick me."

"I'M NOT!" I declared, gripping his cargo pants tighter.

His lip quivered. He pried me from my hold and held me up in front of him. I could see his face struggling to smile, a joy oversaturated with annoyance. "Do you think you can run away again?" his cold eyes shifted to a sweet deposition, "you won't, dear. They won't dirty you anymore."

"I DON'T WANT TO RUN AWAY!"

His hands tightened around my ribcage, and he let out a few raspy. "STOP IT!" He brought our faces close to one another. "DON'T YOU DARE LIE TO ME," his hands trembled, "my sweet, sweet treasure.~"

He compressed my ribs, and I choked out, still making my declaration known. "I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU, POR-PORTAMANTEAU."

He flinched at his full name. His thumbs loosened. I expelled the old breath and took anew. Then, coughed in the process. 

His lips flicked into a smile, exposing his canines. 

He grit his teeth together and chuckled through them. He swung me near the bed and tipped forward with me.

 "Then prove it." His distrust never left. "Don't tell me with your words; show me." An exhilaration left his mouth along with the words he whispered, "let me encompass you."

A thick cocktail of worry and fear began in my throat. 

I swallowed it back. "If that's what it takes, I trust you."

His eyes widened wildly. He stepped to the bed and let me fall onto it. He didn't say anything; his vision marveled at my flesh. 

I knew he had the pure instinct to consume. I never admitted it before, but many Apex's did. I ignored it all and pretended the problem never existed. Until I met him. 

He held my legs up, easily keeping my ankles bound with one hand. "If you struggle or pull away from me..." he made sure I met his gaze, "I'll do far worse." He whistled, a serious cast over his eyes. "So don't make me do that."

I remained still and terrified. Listening to every single gulp, slurp, and hum as his body pulled me deeper into its warm insides. They pressed at my lower half, constricting it as the heated compression made me sweat.

He went so slow, occasionally stopping to lightly bite. He seemed so tempted to take a bigger one. But overall, even as his teeth went over my neck, I didn't concede. I stayed true to my word and let him eat me.

…

It became a habit. He'd playfully put my hands near his mouth, lick them, or lick my cheek or other parts he had near. He took my offer to the extreme, almost always choosing to consume me when he held me.

I knew his body was dangerous. It would digest me if I lingered inside him too long. And yet this was better. He was kind and caring as long as I gave myself to him. He even let me see the outdoors again, once.

He started doing it several times a day. He was careful, gentle, and adored the act. At this point, I was inside him more than outside him. I understood its constrictions, noises, and motions to try to break down my body.

I got used to his care, his threats, his skepticism, the ropes-his tone-everything, and anything he did to me.

And the thought of leaving again made me sick. I didn't want to feel the outside world anymore.

 Because now, I was his and would always be his, forever.

...

Thank you for reading, next part coming out soonish? It'll be a big one and a surprise VERY gritty one too that was supposed to be the real bad ending. Hope you enjoyed and have a great day!

[billiewena]

for the 100k fic celebration, here a portion of the “what if 10x05 had a sastiel agenda?” AKA lil shit sam/jealous dean destiel fic I first shared a while back! been having a lot of fun basically rewriting and expanding on the entire musical episode with new songs (and lots of cute kristen & siobhan moments because OF COURSE they’re still a couple.) it was really encouraging to see the positive response to it back then and it's been taking forever because of work/other writing but I’m so excited to have this one be the first full-length fics I ever post.

It starts with costumed teenagers locked in a tight embrace with absolutely no room for Jesus.

“What are they doing?”

Marie glances over her shoulder for only a brief second.

“Kids these days call it hugging,” she says slowly. Geez, it would’ve been less insulting for her to just outright say Wow, you’re old.

Except it’s not just any of the show’s stars hugging over there. One of them is the “Dean” who’d been mid-rehearsal when they arrived and looked more like Bieber than him with the blonde wig. And the other? Well, he would recognize that Columbo coat anywhere.

“Is that in the show?” he asks, pointing their way.

Marie quickly shakes her head at the accusation. “Oh, no. Siobhan and Kristen are a couple in a real life.”

He nods and lower his hand. Got it. That’s all it was. Everything’s fine. Nothing to worry about—

“No, my play explores the nature of Sastiel.”

“The — wait, what?” he says, confused at once.

“Sastiel?” Marie pauses, giving him a second to figure it out. He doesn’t. “You know, the relationship between Sam and Castiel?”

Dean blinks.

“Sam and…C-Cas?”

“I know, I know. Edlund’s series never finished. I’m lucky I got these drafts. Ugh, it’s Midnight Sun all over again. But the love story is all in the subtext,” she says with confidence. “Can you believe there are people who still think Destiel is endgame? After everything that happened after the angels fell? After Gadreel? Please.”

He silently sounds out the word. Des-tiel? Wait…

“Ever since Cas came back from the dead and took on Sam’s pain, I knew. I just knew. Every one of their arcs had been parallel to each other’s from their fall from grace to the trials. And now with Dean gone, all they have…is each other.”

Marie sighs. “Besides, you can’t spell subtext without S-E-X.”

He coughs and nearly chokes on an asteroid-sized lump in his throat.

“I…uh. Yeah, th-that’s not…you know, I think I’ve seen enough,” Dean says with a forced smile. “Thank you for your, ah, time. I’ll, uh, we’ll follow up if we have questions about the missing persons case. I—alright.”

And with that he purses his lips, turns on his heel and walks away — nearly tripping over one of the stage chords as he does. Why are there are so many of them anyways? This is just some all-girls school production, not the goddamn West End.

He finds Sam in his natural nerd habitat (the tech booth) sifting through all the bins of A/V supplies.

“Yeah, not to interrupt the blast from the past here but it’s time for us to go,” he says, patting the door.

His brother shoots him an annoyed look but packs up and follows him out all the same. Not that Dean bothers to wait for him; no, he makes a beeline for the car as soon as he leaves the booth.

“Hey, what’s with the rush?” Sam calls after him as he runs to catch up with him at the school entrance.

“No rush,” he says shortly. “Just wanted to see what you found out before you got too lost in the nerd sauce over there.”

He doesn’t need to look back to know he’s on the receiving end of a Classic Sam Bitchface right now and continues to stomp his way through the parking lot.

“Well, no EMF, no hex bags. None of their props are remotely hinky. Talked to Maeve and all those extras in the auditorium.” Sam finally catches up and walks side-by-side with him now. “You have any more luck?”

“Nah. Ms. Chandler's office is just a pile of empty bottles and regret. She's probably just face down in a bar somewhere. Or a ditch. I did get to hear all about the director’s, ah, creative vision though,” Dean says, teeth gritted. “Apparently we go into space, I become a woman, and there’s even ninjas and robots!”

“Robots. Huh. Well, that’d definitely be a new one.”

“There’s no robots in Supernatural—”

“I-I know that,” Sam says in exasperation. “I just mean it’s, y’know, innovative. And Dean we’ve fought weirder. Remember the teddy bear? The fairies? The ballet shoes?”

“Well, you just wait until you hear about what she in store for you, Lover Boy,” he says.

And that makes Sam do an instant double-take.

“Uh, Lover Boy?”

“Yeah, your number one fan back there —” he says, gesturing back towards the school, “— was telling me all about the play’s, uh, love story between you and Cas. You got something you’ve been meaning to tell me or what?”

“The love story? Wait, what do you mean me and Cas?”

Dean scoffs, already in utter disbelief of the words he was about to say. “Like you and Cas, together. Together together? Romance of the ages the way she made it sound. Apparently it’s all in her play!”

To his surprise though, Sam just… laughs. “Well, I mean hey, that’s an improvement from the ones who wrote about me and you.”

“You got that right,” he agrees with a shudder. Meeting one Becky the Stalker was bad enough. Knowing she wasn’t alone and that she had an audience made it even worse. “She even had a portmanteau for you, dude. Like you’re some celebrities in a grocery store tabloid. Sass-tiel.”

“Sass-tiel?” He seems to seriously consider it but shrugs. “I don’t know. What about… Samstiel? CasSam? Cam? Mmm, maybe not that…”

Dean groans. “Really? That’s your issue with this?”

“Of course it’s not my issue,” Sam says. He stays pensive for a few more seconds until chuckling again to himself this time, as if he’s the only one in on a private joke. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, Cas is great but…”

“Not your type?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sam says. No, it’s definitely more than that and he’s doing a piss-poor job of hiding his amused expression.

Dean turns and stares him down. “What?”

“I dunno,” he says, his smirk fully visible now. “I just think it’s funny they’re pairing me up with Cas when the one with the ‘profound bond’ with him is right there.”

“Oh, haha. You’re hilarious,” Dean retorts at once.

“Hey man, I’m not the one who stayed in Purgatory for a year to find him.”

His glare takes on a murderous edge.

“Okay. You know what? You’re going to do that thing where you just shut the hell up! Forever!”

Sam holds up his hands in either what’s either a show of innocence or surrender.

“Alright, alright. Well, other than the Charlie Kaufman of it all I got nothing.”

“So…what?” Dean says. “This-this all... This whole musical thing, everything, it's... it's all a coincidence? There is no case?”

“Unless you're seeing something I'm not, no, Dean. There's no case here,” he says sincerely this time.

“Come on. This has classic Trickster vibes all over it.” He almost wants to turn around and start yelling, Come on out Gabriel you bastard!

“Trickster’s dead, man. And he wasn’t just a trickster, he was an archangel. And they’re all gone too.”

“Could be a lower-rank angel?” Dean tries. “I mean, Zachariah pulled off an entire apocalypse world. And that place where we were both corporate drones. Before you know it, this’ll get all Buffy and it’ll be me and you singin’ and dancin’—“

“Dean…I think it’s just fans. Look, as long as they’re not putting another love spell on one of us I couldn’t really care less what they’re doing,” Sam says with some bitterness, clearly not looking back at that particular memory with any fondness. “Just writing some songs? I mean, it’s innocent enough.”

“Oh yeah, so innocent,” he scoffs. “They’re singing about our dead parents, your demon blood bender, the apocalypse, all of it! This is just…it’s make-believe for them! But it’s our lives!”

Sam runs a tired hand through his hair. “Look, I don’t get it either man. I wasn’t exactly thinking about the books’ entertainment value while Chuck was describing my sex life in vivid detail—“

“Don’t remind me,” he says, holding up a hand in disgust.  

“—but I dunno. There’s obviously something about it they connected to, right? Something they related to, something that moved them, inspired them? And I guess…I mean, what’s wrong with that?”

There is so, so much wrong with that.

“I don’t know what story they’re reading and what Sam and Dean they’re ‘connecting’ to here. But it sure as hell ain’t us. I mean…they even made me blonde, dude.”

“It’s a high school play, what can you expect?” Sam laughs. “It was probably the closest wig they could find at Party City.”

Dean ignores him, muttering aloud as he makes his way to the driver’s seat.

“The hair…the singing…the robots… the love story…”

“You really were bothered by that, weren’t you?” Sam gives his brother a curious look.

“SUPERNATURAL ISN’T A ROMANCE!” Dean snaps. “Look, these girls obviously don’t know what they’re talking about—“

“I dunno, Dean,” Sam said in a clearly taunting voice now. “Maybe you’re just jealous of what me and Cas have.”

He flushes. “W-what? I-I’m not—“

“We could give you two a name too, y’know? So you don’t feel left out? What about…Dee-stiel? CasDean?”

And he refuses to entertain this conversation any longer.

“Shut your face! Get in the car!”

Thankfully Sam notices the shift in tone and obliges at once.

Dean, meanwhile, takes a moment outside the car to glance around — almost as if checking to see if anyone overheard that comment. Not that it mattered. Who could overhear? No one even knew they were THE Sam and THE Dean. Who cared? He certainly didn’t care. He didn’t care at all...

(to be continued)

[ruleofexception]

Akuko, ch 4

Gulls cry in the crystal bay. Waves break and slap against the docks, sending up a light mist of salt water to shimmer through the air, while merchants barrel past her towards the fleet of cargo ships that bob lazily in the harbour.

The sun overhead is already scorching for mid-morning and she worries it may pink her skin before she’s even set sail, but logic reminds her that there may be far worse ailments than a sunburn, awaiting her once her feet leave land.

Portmanteau resting at her feet and journal clutched tightly in one hand, Shirayuki stares up uncertainly at the ship looming before her.

With its billowing white sails and masts tall enough to poke holes in the sky above, the ship responsible for carrying her to Akuko - to adventure - is easily the largest in the port. 

And quite possibly the busiest.

All manner of crew swarm about the decks, calling orders to one another, fastening ropes and-

“Mornin’, Miss.” a low purr materializes behind her ear and, with a shriek, Shirayuki spins on her heel towards the source. 

Ready to use the journal to break a nose if she must, her hands tremble as she raises the book, a shout builds up in her lungs and-and- 

Golden eyes appraise her curiously, easily coaxing her anger to bubble forth and replace her panic. Journal still gripped and ready to swing, she looks him up and down, “You?!”

She should break his nose.

“Aye.” chuckling, he grins and squints past her towards the ship, “Beauty of a day, ain’t it?”

Raising an eyebrow and ignoring the strange creature wriggling about in her belly, Shirayuki begrudgingly lowers the journal and all but growls, “Look, if you’re here to tell me I’m bad luck or that you don’t approve of me and my request, I think you’ve already made your opinions perfectly clear.”

“Ah, about that-” clearing his throat and lowering his gaze to the cobblestones spread out beneath their feet, his hand rubs roughly at the back of his head, “See, I didn’t… I don’t actually think you’re, ah… What I mean to say is… I’m... I’m sorry.”

Impatient and already tired of whatever game he’s trying to play with her, Shirayuki stoops to pick up her luggage and narrows her gaze at him. “You know, I have spent the past three months with nerves bundled in my stomach and an ache in my heart, because of you and what you said that day. And I have no intention of listening to more of your nonsense.” 

Turning away from him and adjusting her skirts, she starts to stumble her way towards the ship; knees shaking and chest heavy, she nibbles at her lip. She hadn’t meant to divulge just how much he’d gotten to her that day. How his words had stung worse than the tip of a thorn as they burrowed into her heart. 

How he’d made her doubt herself.

Having regained his composure, his footsteps follow close behind her, his voice surprisingly gentle, “Miss, I-”

“I don’t trust you.” 

Despite the hint of what sounds like remorse in his tone, she can’t allow herself to forget what he’d said; she’d finally found a crew and a captain who’d accepted her proposal, without asking thousands of questions about their final destination and he’d tried to ruin it. Without knowing the truth, he’d tried to sabotage her. Whatever this act is that he’s been playing at - seemingly excited for the same expedition he’d sneered at only months ago - isn’t fooling her. 

If it were up to her, they’d leave him in port and set their course for Akuko, without him.

Having reached the ramp up to the ship, she puffs out her cheeks and eyes the long and narrow board, trying to debate if she’ll really be able to get her bag all the way up there by herself; but when she feels him come up behind her, hand outstretched and ready to help, it’s like a match has been struck and tossed onto oil. 

“I don’t need your help.” gritting her teeth, she tightens her core and heaves the bag up. One step at a time she climbs, until, finally, she’s reached the deck. Placing her luggage down haphazardly, sweat clings to the wisps of red escaping her braid and she turns to grin triumphantly down at where he’s standing, staring incredulously at her. “And so help me, if you get in my way, I’ll… I’ll…” muscles fatigued and begging her to sit, Shirayuki sways a little and laughs, “Why, I think I’ll feed you to the dragons, sir.” 

[Read more]

[violetsmoak]

Philtatos [9/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101543/chapters/47690671

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: During a patrol where Red Hood and Red Robin cross paths, Jason is infected with the blood of the Eros, the ancient God of Love, who informs them that they must track down his missing bow and arrows, or Jason will go slowly mad with an obsessive desire–for Tim. Though overwhelmed by the sudden attention being paid to him, Tim sets to work trying to solve the case, before Jason succumbs to madness. In the meantime, Jason discovers that there’s more than godlike powers at work here, as well as a legacy that reaches back through the sands of time.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Beta Reader: None at the moment.

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #gold #warriors #gods in disguise

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

“Just going to put this out there, but if breaking into a flower shop is your idea of a first date, it might explain your lack of game,” Jason remarks. Tim glares up from the rear door where he’s disabling the building’s paltry security system. The other man sniggers, the sound echoing through the vocal modulator of his helmet. “Too soon?”

“You’re an ass,” Tim informs him, clipping a wire to ensure there will be no outgoing calls to the alarm company.

Jason is still chuckling as he picks the lock to get them in. He’d complained when Tim insisted on no unnecessary smashing of their way into some innocent owner’s shop. Thankfully, he’d also yielded with an uncharacteristic lack of fight.

Vigilantes cause enough property damage fighting the villain of the week, we’re not going to send some poor guy’s insurance premiums up because the Red Hood wants to kick in a door.

“How come you never broke into a flower shop for me?” Steph wants to know, voice crackling across the comms.

“That ship sailed when you hit me in the face with a brick,” Tim mutters as he and Jason slip through the rear entrance and begin looking around.

“Hold a grudge much?”

“Looks like the roses are back here,” Jason says, shining a flashlight into a cold storage display. “Think the color affects the spell?”

“Everything about this is cliché already, so I’m guessing it has to be red,” Tim deadpans, digging into his belt for a few bills to pay for their break-in and theft. Meanwhile, Jason reaches into the display and removes a bunch of red roses.

“Gotta say, this is easier than the usual job. Kind of lackluster.”

Tim raises an eyebrow. “Feeling cheated? I could queue up the Mission Impossible soundtrack for you on my phone.”

“More like Beauty and the Beast, given the situation.” Jason considers and then snorts, “Actually, definitely like Beauty and the Beast. You know that story was actually based on our annoying feathered friend?”

“Seriously?”

“Yep. In the original version of the myth, an oracle tells this girl Psyche she’s destined to marry ‘a monster that neither god nor mortal can resist.’”

“Eros.”

“Bingo.” Jason pauses, seeming to remember where they are, and then clears his throat, holding up the flora. “So, we good? Ready to channel your inner Zatara?”

“Only if I can be Zatanna.”

They leave the shop.

“Go for it. I’ve met that cousin of hers. He’s a douche.”

Tim laughs out loud. It’s not anything he hasn’t heard before—or agreed with.

The comms crackle then, bringing him back to present.

“Are you flirting?” Steph asks, sounding amused and awed. “Oh my god, you are. This is totally you flirting with each other, isn’t it?”

“We’re not flirting,” Tim grumbles, looking away from Jason, pulling his cowl down a little lower to hide his warming cheeks. He had completely forgotten about the open commlink.

“I’m flirting,” Jason confirms without shame. “But I’m allowed. I have a note.”

“You are both embarrassments,” Damian disdains.

“I think it’s cute,” Steph coos. “I know it’s temporary and all, but we should give them a ship name.”

“A what?”

“A name for their relationship. A portmanteau. All the celebs do it. Like Kimye. And technically Tim is a celebrity, so—”

“Keep the comms clear,” Dick growls, attempting to mimic the Batman voice, but there’s a tightness to it that screams discomfort. “And no names in the field.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Aw, are we makin’ you blush, Dickhead?” Jason jeers. “I thought you out of everyone would appreciate a good flirt…”

“Not when it involves my brothers. Magically induced feelings or not, I don’t need a play-by-play…”

“Consider this repayment for all the times I walked in on you and Kori at the Tower,” Tim says easily.

Dick groans. “You really did grow up mean.”

Jason roars with laughter.

“This surprises you?” Damian interjects. “He had a hit list of potential threats with all of us on it.”

Jason whistles. “Seriously? Babybird, I’m impressed! Also, annoyed—how am I the only one that gets labeled the bad one?”

“Because you don’t understand the meaning of subtle.”

“Careful, Robin, that almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Can we just get out of here?” Tim mumbles, ears still burning a bit.

It’s not like he’ was trying to flirt or lead Jason on in any way. It just seems like treating this enforced dynamic lightly, trying to find some humor in things, makes everything seem a little less…terrible.

And okay, maybe he’s kind of enjoying the fact their recent interactions are lacking their usual bite. When he was a kid, he dreamed about befriending Robin; after Jason died and even after he resurrected, that became something impossible.

But this, even in the backdrop of a horrible situation, it’s like getting a taste of that.

Which is dangerous, since it’s not going to last.

No matter how tightly Jason holds Tim’s hand as they speed toward Robinson Park, or continues to watch him as they park Redbird under camouflage nearby. He can’t know for sure, but he suspects that under the helmet, Jason may be smiling at him.

Like he’s his favorite person in the world.

But that’s why Eros said he was the one who had to do that, right?

It still sucks.

“Everyone in position?” Dick’s voice crackles over the comm line. “Batman – north quadrant.”

“Robin – south quadrant. This is still a bad idea.”

“Most of our ideas are bad ones. Batgirl – east quadrant.”

“Red and Red at the drop point,” Tim says, scanning the open glade they’ve chosen. “We’ve got the west quadrant once we set the trap.”  

He crouches down on the ground and sets to work.

“You really think an electric cage is gonna be enough?” Jason asks as he loiters beside Tim, twirling the rose between thumb and forefinger. “Considering her talents avoiding capture, Carrie Cutter probably knows how to get out of a trap.”

“Which is why we distract her and knock her out as soon as we confirm she has the diviners,” Tim reminds him as he finishes placing the electromagnetic field generators in the ground. Rather than dig up the earth, he hides them beneath debris and branches.

“Which is why you distract her, and I knock her out,” Dick reminds over the comms. “You two are to get clear of the area as soon as the spell is done.”

“Father would not approve of us relying on spells.”

“Luckily B’s not here,” Jason replies, using a knife to sharpen the rose’s stem to a point. “Now what?”

“Eros said we have to join hands, and then you have to say this—” Tim digs into his belt and passes the ripped magazine cover, “—apparently it invokes the words of Eros. I can’t read it, but he said you could.”

Jason takes the page.

“How the hell would I know how to—oh.”

“I guess the same way you were speaking ancient Macedonian?”

“Looks like.”

“Anytime now, imbeciles,” Damian snaps in their ear. “The sooner this foolish plan fails, the sooner I can say ‘I told you so’ and return home.”

“Sounds like the toddler’s gettin’ cranky,” Jason snorts. “Must be past his bedtime.”

“At least he’s being optimistic,” Steph points out. “Assuming we’re getting back home and all.”

“Once again you’ve displayed your tendencies towards selective hearing, Fatgirl, I said I intend to return home, not that I expected you to do the same.”

“Charming,” Tim drawls.

“Damian’s right,” Dick interrupts. “Let’s get this over with.”

There’s a moment of fumbling where Tim grabs the rose so that Jason can use one hand to hold the incantation and take hold of Tim’s with his other.

Tim stares down at their joined hands, Jason’s on top of his; he notes the collection of scars on the backs of his knuckles. Knuckles his face has been intimately acquainted with in the past—

“Here goes,” Jason mutters, brandishing the invocation. When he next speaks, it’s in a language Tim has never heard before, as incomprehensible as what he was saying the other day when he nodded off during the movie.

And yet it still sends shivers down Tim’s spine.

The rose glows with golden light and then flies out of his hand to hover in the air above them.

“What’s next?”

“He said something about palms together, so—”

They readjust their hands.

“No, wait, yours should be on top,” Jason suggests. “Minimize the chance of you getting in on this oh-so-fun obsession thing.”  

“Yeah, hard pass…”

As soon as their hands are horizontal over the ground, the rose gives a pulse of energy and then shoots downward, piercing fully through both their hands.

“Motherfucker!” Jason shouts.

Like Tim, it’s probably only years of training that keeps them from jerking their hands away from each other with the rose still piercing them.

“What happened?” Dick demands.

“We’re embracing a new career as human pincushions,” Jason snarls.

“He didn’t tell me what was going to happen,” Tim says through gritted teeth; the pain is nothing compared to what any of them have been through, but it still makes his stomach twist like he wants to throw up.   

Blood wells around the stem of the rose, sliding around their hands and dripping onto the ground. They stay completely still, waiting for the flow to drip to an end and then stop completely.

In that instant, the rose vanishes like nitrocellulose paper, freeing their hands. Jason shakes his hand, still cursing as he studies the wound, while Tim kneels in the dirt to etch the symbol of Eros into the ground.

There’s a golden shimmer against the grass, and then—

Nothing. 

Tim won’t lie, he sort of expected more smoke and explosions or some indication that something magical was about to happen.

From the way Jason’s head tilts to one side, he expected the same. “Now what?”

“Now we wait, I guess. She’s human, it’s not like she’s going to teleport here I guess.”

“She has been taking the slow route so far…”

“Take advantage of it,” Dick orders. “Get to cover.”

“And no making out,” Steph says cheerfully. “No one wants to hear sucking noises.”

“Seriously, Batgirl?”

“Why would you say that?” Damian sounds scandalized.

“Muting our comms then. Wouldn’t want to offend your delicate sensibilities,” Jason says, tapping the side of his helmet. There is a chorus of complaints and disgusted groans in the background. A beat later, his shoulders tense like he’s wincing and he glances at Tim, head ducked down. “Sorry. That made it sound like—”

“No, they’re being jerks,” Tim says as he mutes his own comms. “Let them stew.”

Jason’s mischievous, conspiratorial laugh is entirely worth the flack Tim knows he’s going to get from Dick later.

They retreat to their designated spot, crouching down to await the supposed arrival of their query.

“I was sort of expecting us to be struck by lightning or something,” Jason admits after several minutes, drumming his fingers against his thigh in a quick and nervous rhythm. His other hand keeps reaching for the catch of his helmet, then jerking back downward, like he’s fighting the impulse to pull it off. Whether to tear at his hair or scrape at the skin of his neck, Tim isn’t sure, but either compulsion worries him.

He’s been good so far tonight, ever since they all got their marching orders, but now that he’s sitting still, he’s clearly without a distraction.

Tim stretches across the small distance between them and takes his hand in his.

“Struck by lightning, huh?” Tim says, swallowing against the awkwardness. He can feel Jason’s eyes on him from beneath the helmet. “Looking to defect to the Allen family?”

“Well, red is my color,” Jason jokes tensely, then shrugs. “Actually, I was thinking in terms of the gods. It happened a lot in all the myths, where if you pissed someone off Zeus would fry you with a bolt of lightning. Or, you know, Hera would trick some poor girl to ask to see Zeus’s in all his immortal glory and then she’d get fried.” He snorts. “Almost all the myths basically boil down to trouble started because Zeus couldn’t keep it in his pants.” 

“Clearly,” Tim mutters. “Guess Flash and Kid Flash were lucky they got powers instead of dead. Somehow the Big-Pile-Of-Dust doesn’t have the same charm as Scarlet Speedster.”

Things go quiet again.

Out in the open, there’s still no sign of Carrie Cutter. Tim wonders if maybe this whole thing really is just Eros having fun at their expense.

Oh well. Even if it all turns out to be a bust, this is keeping Jason’s mind occupied. Better than anything we could do for him locked up in the manor…

“I’m glad it was you I was working with at the time, and not Grayson or the bat brat,” Jason says suddenly.

“Why’s that?” Tim asks absently.

“Because you’re not family.”

Tim tries not to react. He’s had punches to the gut that hurt less than that.

It’s pretty much what I figured, but still…

“At least not the way they are,” Jason continues, oblivious to Tim’s reaction. “Nightwing wasn’t around much when I was a kid, but it was like having an older brother in college or something, right? Anytime I picked up the phone to bitch about the old man, he’d take the call.”

Tim swallows, needing a beat to ensure his voice doesn’t sound heavy, and ventures, “Did you…do that often?”

He’s not sure how to take the older man’s sudden candidness.

“More than you’d think. Not the first year—he still wasn’t that real to me before then, just a name I kept getting compared to. Also, he was always fighting with B, or treating me like his replacement.”

“Imagine that,” Tim says wryly.

“What, you thought you were the only one to get the cold shoulder?”

“His cold shoulder didn’t involve causing permanent scarring.”

Jason winces. “Fair.”

“Forget it. I told you before, water under the bridge,” Tim dismisses. “How’d you end up making good with N, back then?”

“I ran away. Tried to make it on my own because B was being…you know. Shit went down and I came back to the manor, and then Dickiebird showed up and told me about how he ran away shortly after B took him in.”

Tim blinks. “I never knew that.”

“Must’ve been before you took up your stalking hobby,” Jason says, and Tim can hear the grin in his words. “After that, he was more real to me. And he tried to actually be there. Except when he was off-planet.” He pauses for a moment, thoughtful, and Tim remembers that that’s where Nightwing was when Jason was making plans to go to Ethiopia. “And then with the brat—we come from the same place. Mothers sold us out, don’t play well with others, never really had a childhood…trying to toe B’s stupid line when we know it’s never gonna work…”

“You don’t know that.”

“Agree to disagree, Timbers. The point is, with those two, I get it. They’re family, even if I don’t want them to be. But you—”

Tim’s shoulders slump. “Not damaged enough?”

“Bullshit, you’re plenty damaged. You chose this shit, and there’s a special kind of insanity in that.” That should be an insult, but Jason’s tone is admiring. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m relieved. That I’m fixating on you and not—look, I couldn’t take the incest guilt on top of losing my mind. It’s one less thing to hate myself about.”

There’s a lot to unpack there, Tim thinks, especially that bit about Jason hating himself. He opens his mouth to say something about it, but then Dick’s voice growls, “We’ve got company. Everyone stay sharp.”

Looks like we’ll have to table things until later…

A motorcycle speeds into the park, the growl of the motor shattering the otherwise quiet night. The woman upon it, clad in green combat gear and without a mask or even a helmet over her bright red hair, practically leaps off the bike without stopping, letting it skid to one side.

Her eyes are wild, and her arms snap out in front of her in an oddly zombiesque. Tim understands the reason for the latter when he takes note of the wrist-mounted crossbows on both hands.

Ten to one those are Eros’ diviners.

Cutter marches straight up the sigil, which shimmers and vanishes, and she stops, looking around.

Tim’s finger hovers over his wrist computer, waiting with bated breath as she edges closer and closer to the trap.

“Come on,” Jason murmurs under his breath, attention fixed on that as well.

“Where is he?” Cutter growls and Tim is surprised at how rough her voice is compared to the way she’s sounded in various interrogation videos he’d used for research. “This is his blood, so where is the brat?”

She finally takes the final step and Tim engages the cage.

Fingers of electrical energy spring to life around her, creating a contained dome around Cutter. She snarls, trying to jump backward, but the forcefield keeps her immobile. She can’t even move her arms.

Across the clearing, Dick materializes from the shadows in silence.

 “Be careful, Batman,” Tim cautions in a low voice. “The electric field was supposed to knock her out.”

“If you really thought it would be that easy, you haven’t been doing this long enough,” Jason murmurs.

Tim ignores that. “The field will keep her from shooting you while she’s in there, but the minute I deactivate it, she’ll try something. Get her disarmed first.”

“It’s like you think this is my first time,” Dick mumbles before he growls out his imitation of Bruce, “Carrie Cutter. You made a mistake coming to Gotham.”

The woman’s slightly manic expression freezes on her face and then smooths into something predatory. “Oh, I see. So, you’re the Batman. I have to say, I’m underwhelmed.”

Dick remains silent, and Jason snorts, leaning in a little too close to Tim to murmur, “Wonder how hard it is for him right now not to make a joke.”

Tim grins.

“Your murder spree ends tonight,” Batman says. “If you cooperate, it will go better for you.”

“Isn’t that what every guy says?” Cutter purrs. “What if I like it a bit rough?”

“It’s up to you. You’re getting arrested either way, but if you work with me, I can ensure a lighter sentence.”

Tim can practically hear Jason grinding his teeth at that. He nudges him.

 Now’s not the time for a rant about Red Hood’s brand of justice…

“That’s awful accommodating for the Big Bat. I must have something you want,” the woman muses, shifting as she continues to test the bounds of the forcefield. She glances down at the ground and then snorts. “You’re working with Eros. The little brat wants his toys back, doesn’t he?”

Damn. So much for surprise.

“And if you give them up without bloodshed, we can figure out a deal.”

Her expression becomes pinched. “What makes you think I care about deals?”

“Because without making one, you wouldn’t have been able to steal those in the first place.” He gets closer until he’s looming over her. “Tell me who helped you steal the diviners. If I know who it is, I can protect you from them better.”

“Protect me,” she repeats. “What makes you think I need protection?”

“I already have intel that says the only ones who know about the diviners and how to wield them would have to be Olympians or beings of similar nature. They don’t tend to be the most altruistic—or forgiving.”

“Well, you have a point there,” Carrie agrees with a smirk, and Tim suddenly has a really bad feeling about this. “But then, I knew what I was getting into when I struck my little bargain.”

“We can help you,” Batman insists. “You don’t have to be alone in this, Carrie.”

“Now see,” she purrs, “your mistake is thinking I came here without their help.” Her eyes burn a bright, unnatural red, and her entire body begins to glow. “Or that we mind a bit of bloodshed.”

⁂

“Well, that, wasn’t in her files,” Tim remarks lightly, in a mild voice that tries not to betray the ‘oh shit we’re screwed’ sentiment of the moment.

“I’m not usually one for negotiations, but I think that means they failed,” Jason remarks.

“Your grasp of the obvious is impeccable!” Damian sneers across the comms.

Jason can’t help blink as Cutter seems to draw into herself, her back rounding and arms tucked in before she emits a wordless growl. She shoves her hand right up and through the electric cage holding her—and wraps it around Batman’s throat faster than he can avoid it.

I know she’s enhanced and all, but something tells me she’s not usually that fast!

Sparks sizzle and fly as the cage around her shorts out, and she lifts Batman over her head.

Or strong.

Freed from the cage, Cutter pulls back her left arm, priming the miniature crossbow on it. Jason doesn’t hesitate—he’s got his guns out and takes two shots in rapid succession, hitting both her wrists directly where the devices are attached.

Cutter curses as they fall to the ground, dropping Batman, who immediately tries to reach for the discarded diviners. A steel-toed boot to the chest and more force than should be possible stops him, leaving him momentarily winded on the ground.

“Converge!” Tim orders. “Don’t let her pick up those weapons again!”

“No, I thought we’d let her have them, she seems so reasonable!” Steph snarks, but is already dashing from her hiding spot.

“Hood—get the diviners while she’s distracted!”

“Easier said than done, Red!”

Steph reaches Cutter first, lunging forward with a right hook that is neatly evaded. Cutter grabs her by the shoulders and shoves her downward, kneeing her in the face. As Steph stumbles back, trying to shake off the blow, Cutter backhands her.

Dick is back on his feet, kicking out with a roundhouse that Cutter ducks before grabbing hold of him again. Undeterred, he headbutts her and this time it’s Cutter that staggers back, reeling enough for a front-kick that nearly downs her.

“Stay down, Carrie,” he growls.

“It’s cute you think that’s going to happen,” she laughs. The timber of the sound doesn’t seem quite right for some reason. 

As she rallies, she aims a kick to Tim’s face when he tries to get close enough to grab the diviners, forcing him to bend backward. Jason snarls, whipping a knife at her face in retaliation, which she catches and lobs back at him, forcing him to bend backward to avoid it.

As reaches for a gun, Steph recovers, trying for a downward chop to Cutter’s blind spot. However, the redhead rallies, manages to get an arm around her neck and hold Steph up, choking her in the crook of her elbow.

“Go on and take the shot, warrior,” Cutter taunts.

Goddamnit—she knows I can’t.

Normally he would, but his hands aren’t exactly steady today. Beyond that, he gets the sense that training or not, Cutter is a lot faster right now than she should be.

Damian materializes behind her and tries to clothesline her, but this fails as she whips around and punches him in the solar plexus, making him lurch backward.

“I never liked children...”

Dick’s attempted right hook fails, too. Cutter twists around and knees him in the jaw, all while Steph continues to struggle against the chokehold. Her arms slap uselessly against her adversary, who still has the strength to punch the still rallying Batman so hard he flies backward several yards, forcing Tim to duck out of the way or be bowled over.

Damn it. She’s taking them out too fast, there’s no opening to get the diviners.

Cutter throws Batgirl over her shoulder and into the ground, hard. Steph doesn’t move, and Cutter makes another attempt to pick up the diviners.

His line of sight clear now, Jason fires several rounds, targeting her joints, but somehow, she avoids them all.

“That…should not be possible.”

Jason knows his marksmanship capabilities, and unless she’s got precognition, she shouldn’t be able to avoid being hit.

Definitely faster than human. Either that, or she’s got tougher skin than expected and just isn’t bleeding.

As he pauses to reload, Red Robin creeps up behind her, once more trying to get his hands on one of the abandoned crossbows. Cutter spots him, grabs him by the folds of his cape and sends him flying straight at Jason, who’s forced to stop shooting and catch him.

“You okay?”

“Fine—let me up.”

Jason hesitates a minute.

Even with the body armor, he’s way too small…

“Hood!”

“Right—yeah,” Jason shakes his head, forcing himself to remember the fact they’re in the middle of a fight.

Several yards away, Damian darts back again, this time with a sword that Jason’s sure he’s not supposed to have with him. He swings in an underhand arc at her unguarded back, but she whirls around, diverts the blow by catching and pushing away the hilt. Robin is already twisting his body around, trying to aim a downward swipe to her abdomen—and she bends back to avoid it with ease. He makes a third attempt, slices the blade overhead again, and she dodges it by inches, the steel passing harmlessly over her. He doesn’t get a fourth shot, as this time she grabs hold of his hands where they grip the sword and throws him away from her, sword and all. The blade slips from his hands as he skids to the ground, rolling several times in the dirt.

Tim’s sprinting forward again, bo staff at the ready, but Cutter is ready to catch him, neatly avoiding his attempt to shatter her collarbone with the staff. Still, he turns, using the momentum to follow through, shoving the staff backward to hit her abdomen. Before it can connect, her hands fasten around the staff, and she tries to pull him forward. Red Robin evades her hold the first time, freeing his staff and comes back around with an overhand swing from the right, but Cutter dodges, shoving a palm at his sternum and sending him flying into Batman.

With Tim clear once again, Jason lets loose another volley of gunfire, stalking forward. His accuracy improves the closer he gets—he can see her clothing shred in places as the bullets glance by. She seems to notice this too, because then she’s bending forward and kicking out, foot under Batgirl and sending her directly into Jason’s path, forcing him to drop his weapons and catch the other vigilante.

“Oof! Did you gain weight?”

“Rude. You didn’t say that to Red Robin.”

“He doesn’t have your ass.”

“He wishes he had my ass,” she replies, pushing off Jason and crawling off to the side.

“You’re both asses,” Tim grunts across the comms.

“Once again you state the obvious,” Damian puffs. He’s recovered by now, sword back in hand, and is unsuccessfully trying to swipe Cutter’s knees from underneath her. Somehow Cutter manages to slip beneath his guard and kick him in the chest, forcing him into the same heap where Steph and Jason are struggling to their feet.

Tim gets up again, dashes forward to jab with his bo that Cutter continues to avoid. He rolls it over his wrist, changes his grip like he’s holding a baseball bat and tries to sweep her legs out from under her. She avoids that and neatly moves to one side as the energizer bunny that is Damian returns to the fray.

Instantly, the two birds take up positions on either side of her, Robin slicing downward, forcing her to jump again, while Red Robin attempts to knock her out from above.

Somehow, Cutter’s body appears to scissor, and she executes a complicates midair flip that twists her almost horizontally between the two swinging blades.

Holy shit, it’s like Raiders of the Lost Ark…

As she lands, the guys move in sync to hit her with their weapons, but she fastens her hands around theirs and with seemingly no effort, spins and throws them off in a whirl of counterclockwise motion. They land close to Steph and Jason, and Cutter is left holding the bo and sword, which she curls her lip at in disgust, and launches them into the air with unnatural force.

Her eyes flit over them, narrowed in suspicion, before she suddenly whirls around to find Batman—and a well-placed right hook—waiting for her.

She falls hard to the ground, barely able to brace herself on the heels of her hands.

“It’s over, Carrie,” he says coolly.

She blinks guilelessly up at him and then smiles coldly. “'Flowers of this purple dye’.”

Dick’s mouth turns downward in confusion, but Jason feels like something’s just jolted his brain.

“'Hit with Cupid’s archery’,” he murmurs.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steph asks.

“Batman, watch out—!”

Cutter swings her left leg out, hobbling Batman at the knees; as he moves in the air to regain his balance, Cutter gets hold of the nearest crossbow and stabs one of the tiny arrows into Batman’s thigh, somehow with enough strength to burrow past all the body armor.

“No!” Red Robin shouts as Dick groans in pain.

“Sink in apple of his eye,” Cutter singsongs, "when his hate he doth espy!”  Then she laughs and in a harsh language that resembles the one Jason used to summon her, “Hate them, Batman. Throw caution to the wind and kill them all.”

The arrow vanishes into stardust and Dick’s entire frame goes tense. Then, he slowly turns his head towards them. His mouth curls into a horrible smile, and beneath the lenses of his mask, Jason sees an unnatural red gleam.

“I’m guessing that was one of the lead tipped ones,” Tim murmurs.

“Yeah…that’s a complication,” Jason replies, stomach sinking.

Which is an understatement.

Dick Grayson is a force of nature on a good day—well on par with Bruce in terms of skill, maybe even better in other aspects. And Jason’s tangled with him a few times, both when he’s been in his right mind and with the human decency brainwashed out of him.

Neither one’s good.

Add the danger Dick poses to a murderous psychopath with the untold backing of an unknown god, and Jason will be really surprised if they make it out of this one alive.

“Hood,” Red Robin begins, both question and warning.

“I’ve got him,” Jason murmurs. “You guys deal with her.”

Cutter is priming the wrist-crossbow again, only for one of Robin’s incoming Batarang to knock it free.

“Oh, you’ve got me, do you, Little Wing?” Dick taunts, stepping forward. “Always with the overconfidence. That’ll get you killed. Again.”

“Right—because I haven’t heard that one a million times before.”

Dick winds up an overhand punch toward Jason’s head, which he ducks, and continues with a flurry of blows that Jason’s only just able to stumble back from.

“I always forget you’re fast like a freak,” he mutters, regaining his stance and throwing himself back at Dick. When the older man continues to avoid the assault, Jason tries to take him out at the knees instead.

Several yards away, the other Bats have surrounded Cutter and are trying to coordinate taking her down.

“Who are you?” Steph demands. “There’s no way you’re just Carrie Cutter in there.”

“Smart girl,” she purrs. “I hate smart girls.”

She tries to jam a knife hidden in her gauntlet in her face, but Steph ducks; Tim and Damian dive forward to pick up the slack.

“I’m surprised you’re not asking me if it’s really me in here,” Dick sneers at Jason, drawing his attention once again. “Or trying to convince me this ‘isn’t me’.” He kicks his heel to Jason’s chest, knocking him back. “Appeal to my better self?”

“You forgettin’, Dickhead?” Jason pants. “I’m the only one that knows you don’t have a better self. Just a pretty-boy smile and a horseshoe up your ass.” He jumps to his feet. “Been telling everyone for years that you’re just a tool. This is just confirmation.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Dick grunts, going for an overhead roundhouse, and when that doesn’t work, aiming low. As Jason staggers back, Dick slices at him with a Batarang, penetrating the thick material of his gear and sending a spray of blood into the air.

In the background, the fight with Cutter doesn’t appear to be going any better.

“Was Carrie Cutter aware you were going to take over her body?” Tim demands of Cutter. “Or did you trick her?”

“As if there was anything to trick—we have an arrangement. And luckily, we both like raising a little hell!” She sends both Tim and Steph flying backward and then gets a hold of Damian as he swoops in from behind. “Wanna see how much?”

And she’s got one of the diviners in her hands again, ready to bring down an arrow on the kid’s head.

Ensorcelled demon-brat is not something we need right now!

Jason barely thinks, throws himself forward and rolls beneath Dick’s grasping gauntlet, skidding across the grass and dirt to knock Damian out of the way. Cutter’s weapon is still on a downward trajectory, and there’s no time to grab anything to block it.

But he doesn’t need to.

Without true thought or intent, the pulsing energy of the All-Blades simmers into being, manifesting in his hands and topping Cutter’s arrowhead inches before it hits him. There’s a small wave of impact that separates them, but judging from Cutter’s expression, that’s not what puts her off guard.

She stares at the blades a beat, before the red flashes in her eyes again.

“All-Caste,” she snarls.

Jason smirks. “Yeah, I’m not just a pretty face.”

“You’re about to have no face!”

They disengage, but not before Cutter manages to grab hold on her crossbows. Before their eyes, they vanish, transforming into twin double-edged blades, one gold and one black.

“Something you want to share with the class, Hood?” Damian asks, spinning his own sword in his wrist.

“Not now. Go help the others deal with Batman,” Jason orders.

“You’re outmatched—”

“We’re all outmatched if you don’t stop your mentor over there, now go!”

He and Cutter cross blades, sparks and energy flying before they disengage to circle one another.

“Tt.” But the kid darts off to where Steph and Tim are already flanking Dick defensively. “Apologies in advance, Richard. I’ll make it quicker than the last time.”

“Keep overestimating your abilities, brat,” Dick sneers in a voice he never uses on Damian. “You don’t even know how much I hold back with you.”

“I could say the same thing to you,” Cutter tells Jason as they circle one another. “You really think this is a wise decision, boy?”

“I really think you look nervous,” Jason counters.

Cutter hisses, but there’s something uncertain in her eye.

“Not hard, I guess,” he continues, flipping out of the way of an attempted jab. “You’re as nuts as Arsenal said. You know Arsenal, right? Green Arrow’s protégé? He said GA said you were a delusional hot mess.”

The red in Cutter’s eyes flicker to green and back.

“Knew you were in there,” Jason goes on. “So, Carrie—was it you that sliced that kid’s throat, or your mystery passenger? Because you’re a lot of things—crazy being one of ‘em—but you’ve never killed kids.”

She falters for just a minute, and red glow vanishes.

At the same time, the blades in Jason’s flicker in and out of existence.

Crazy doesn’t mean evil—and when she’s not being possessed, clearly the All-Blades don’t consider Carrie Cutter to have gone completely dark side.

Cutter’s eyes dart to the blades, then back to Jason’s face, and she snaps her head forward, butting him hard enough he’s forced to let go of her.

In his periphery, Damian makes an angry noise and throws himself forward, earnings a broken nose for his trouble. Dick launches himself at Tim, who feints to one side and crouches down on his knees, turning and throwing two metallic disks at the older man. Electric beams crackle to life, only to die as Dick flings two Batarangs into them, destroying them in a fizzle of electricity and smoke.

“Look at this—the unwanted family screw-ups, getting along,” Dick mocks.

“Don’t pay attention to him, Robin,” Steph orders. “He knows what pushes your buttons.”

“Trying to be the Team Mom, Batgirl?” Dick taunts. “If you wanted that job, you shouldn’t have given up your own brat.”

“Batgirl—!” Tim warns, but Steph is already moving.

She vaults over Tim, who hasn’t gotten to his feet yet and somersaults in midair, heel coming down on Dick and knocking him into the ground. It downs him for a moment, but when she follows up with a left hook, Dick catches it and twists.

Everyone hears the snap of bone and Steph’s pained cry before Dick tosses her to one side. Tim hurries to check her.

“Uh-oh,” Cutter whispers, manic gleam in her eye once more replaced with glowing red. “Looks like things aren’t going too well over there.”

“Better than how things are going for you,” Jason replies, calling up his blades again.

Damian is taking a run at Dick, sliding between the older man’s wide stance and slicing the sharp edges of his gauntlets at Dick’s ankles, injuring the places not covered by armor. Dick goes down on his knees, and Damian is up, knocking him hard across the back of the head. But Dick jerks his head to one side, dodging the blow, and then reaches with his right arm to drag Damian over his shoulder and shoving him down on his back on the ground.

Winded, Damian struggles to breathe, and Dick draws back his hand like he’s about to crush the kid’s skull against the dirt. But then throws himself at him, knocking Dick away and the two of them roll to the ground.

There’s a brief tussle, and then Dick is on top of Tim, pinning his arms to his sides with his thighs. As Damian sails forward with a kick to the head, his arm snaps out, catching him and flipping the boy upside down. Then, laughing, he leans forward, forearm on Tim’s throat like he’s trying to crush it.

Jason’s concentration shatters. “No!”

Tim’s in trouble!

He’s already turning to go help, All-Blades vanishing, when he chokes, staring at the golden sword that suddenly protrudes from his abdomen.

⁂⁂⁂

Next Chapter

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[skadventuretime]

I am shopping in your bookstore and you didn’t notice my mother was standing directly behind me when you really blatantly hit on me. - Soma

Time to bust out of that post-resbang slump. Please accept this little bit of ridiculousness as I adjust back to writing past tense and Black Star’s shenanigans.

On FFN. Edit: On AO3 too, because I was too lazy to do it last night. 

It started out as a dare.

More like a challenge, really, one to see who could ask out their respective crushes first, and Maka refused to lose to her muscle-headed nincompoop of a neighbor who still insisted on being called by his childhood alter ego’s name.

Black Star. More like Black Death the way his nonsense seemed to kill all logic and reason with the speed and ferocity of deadly bacteria.

Gritting her teeth, Maka peered around the edge of the bookshelf she had strategically chosen for surveillance purposes - it was far enough away from the checkout that the grumpy object of this godforsaken mission would have a hard time seeing her, but close enough that she could gauge both how busy the store was and how tired he seemed. If she played her cards right, she could walk up when there were few people around, dazzle him with some tried and true wordplay that she had spent all of the previous night researching, and then be done before he woke up enough to realize he’d agreed to go on a date with someone as pathetically endowed as her.

She lurked in the sci-fi/fantasy section for another thirty minutes while the lunch rush came through, nearly forgetting about her mission entirely when she overheard a couple of teens talking about Anne McCaffrey’s Dragonriders of Pern series and getting into an animated discussion about the pros and cons of being soul-bonded to another sentient being. But then they left, and the relative quiet reminded Maka she had a job to do.

A final peek around the shelf confirmed that there was nobody else in the store but her and Sir Slouches-A-Lot. Remembering the Internet’s reminder that men like confident, assertive women, she put on her competitive jiujitsu face and strode up to the counter with her back straight and her head held high. Her script was memorized. Her research was iron-clad. There was no way this could end in failure.

“Do you have a name or can I just call you mine?” she asked him in the most neutral tone she could manage. No need to pull out the sultry yet - all of the articles she’d read had agreed that pacing was important.

“Excuse me?” he stuttered, eyes wide as he half-tripped, half-collapsed onto the counter.

Maka frowned. It seemed the initial line didn’t work so well - perhaps something more poetic would get the point across. “Do you have a map? I’m getting lost in your eyes.” That should definitely provoke the needed response - his eyes were a brilliant shade of wine-red that did funny things to her stomach when she thought about it too much, but she supposed that was why Black Star teased her about him so often. That’ll stop when she wins this bet, though. Surely Star couldn’t be faring any better with Kid given his utter inability to form coherent sentences that didn’t involve some inane portmanteau of ‘bro’ and the meme of the week.

“I’m sorry, I still don’t understand?” he wheezed, red splotches making his cheeks glow in an awkward, adorable way. “Do you uh, need some help finding something in the store?”

Maka took a calming breath. Of course she’d fall for the one who couldn’t take a hint. Third time’s the charm, they say, so she summoned her most seductive smile (the amount of time she spent practicing it in the mirror the night before was borderline embarrassing) and said, “Are you my appendix? I have a pain in my side that makes me feel like I should take you out.” If he missed the subtext of that last bit, she might have to resort to some of the more drastic measures mentioned in the article, like showing up at his window with a boombox and 80s music or giving him a bouquet of roses, and flowers were expensive.

“Are you hitting on me?” he said, voice cracking in the middle and rising an octave or so while he looked at her with a strange mixture of incredulity and something a little like hope.

“It appears that way, Soul,” an amused voice said to their right, and oh god, someone else was there the whole time. She had waist length blond hair, fine cheekbones, and some of the sharpest eyeliner Maka had ever seen. With a growing sense of horror, Maka realized this must be his mother.

Soul jumped and turned to face her, groaning when he saw the satisfied smirk and delicately placed hands on hips. “Why are you here? Weren’t you doing inventory?”

“Now now, is that any way to treat family?” she chided, still smiling while moving past Soul to collect a stack of receipts by the register.

“I try to forget I’m related to you,” he grumbled, scrubbing at his face in a vain attempt to rid himself of the color in his cheeks. “Don’t you have better things to do than creep around up front?”

She laughed and ruffled his hair with an easy kind of affection that made something in Maka’s heart twinge. What it must be like, to have a mother like that.

“I’ll leave you two kids alone. I can’t be late to my modeling gig, anyway. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” She winked and, after making her way around the counter towards the door, turned and stage-whispered to Maka, “And that only involves anything without clearly negotiated safe words and boundaries, so have at it!” Another wink and she was gone, the small bell above the door chiming her exit.

“Your mom seems nice,” Maka said cautiously, not wanting to say much more because Soul already seemed like he was one wrong look away from disintegrating on the spot and she was busy trying to figure out how to steer this conversation back to dates.

“Mom?” he said, aghast. “That wasn’t my mother, that was my brother.”

Now it was Maka’s turn to blush. “Oh! I’m sorry, I guess I presumed with the hair and — do you think he can teach me how to do eyeliner like that? I always mess it up.”

Soul’s laugh was more like a whimper while he lowered his face into his arms, sinking into the small stool behind the counter like he wished he could simply fade away. “Probably. He’s always picked to do high fashion stuff like this.”

Maka allowed him one minute of embarrassed sulking before clearing her throat and asking, “So, is that a yes?”

He raised his head, confusion breaking through the pained set of his features. “Huh?”

“Will you go out with me?” she said impatiently, glancing at the clock. Kid had gotten out of orchestra almost an hour ago and she didn’t want to risk Star somehow being smooth enough to fingergun his way into a relationship before she could apply her hours of thoroughly researched technique.

“I mean, that sounds—” He’s cut off by the door slamming wide to none other than Black Star and Kid, the latter wearing an impeccable neutral face despite Star’s large bicep curling into the back of his neck from the arm around his shoulder.

“'Sup nerds,” Star said, sauntering over to join them by the counter. “This hot piece of sass agreed to go out with me just a few minutes ago, and given the awkward tension I felt from down the street, you two haven’t even gotten to the confession yet. So I’m gonna say booyah and you lose, Maks.” He raised his other hand over his head, fist formed, and didn’t break eye contact with Maka as Kid sighed and lifted his fist to bump Star’s.

Maka seethed. She’d been so close! All of her planning, her research, was for nothing after all.

“Actually, she was just waiting for me to finish my shift,” Soul said, glancing between Black Star and Maka. “She asked me out hours ago, and we’re also heading out on our first date soon.”

She tried not to look so surprised when he made eye contact with her then, that warm feeling coming back in waves and allowing her to return his smile with a genuine one of her own. “Yeah, right. We’re thinking about a movie.”

Star gaped at the two of them. “Are you kidding me? Punch Ya Albarn got a date before moi? Jeez man, we gotta be friends if this one’s nerdery didn’t scare you away. We were going to the movies, too, so how about a double date?”

“Sounds good to us,” Maka said.

“Great, we’ll meet you out front.” Black Star and Kid walked back outside, and the longer Maka looked at them, the more she saw the bashful tilt to Star’s smile and the small fidgets he made when Kid leaned into his arm. It looked like Star wouldn’t be the only one with teasing ammo.

“Thanks, by the way. For covering me,” Maka said to Soul when the others were out of earshot. “We’d had a bet about who could ask their crushes out on a date first and—”

“I’m your crush?” Soul looked dazed again, but this time with such an honest, open smile that Maka couldn’t help but indulge the melting emotion lapping at her heart.

“Yeah, you are,” she said, tamping down her own starstruck expression and remembering the need to project confidence. “I spent a lot of time looking up how to flirt. I’m glad it wasn’t all for nothing.”

“Well, that’s cool because you’ve been my crush for a while.” That wide-open smile seemed to be a permanent fixture on his face, and he held out his hand to her as he walked towards the door. “But just so you know, you shouldn’t take dating advice from cheesy pick-up line sites.”

Maka’s eyes widened. “How did you know where I sourced my information?”

Laughing, Soul enveloped her hand in his and opened the door. “Call it a hunch.”