#teen titans fanfic

[linkspooky]

Commission from @oakyvii for my Beast Boy / Raven Fan Fic Things Fall Apart”  READ IT HERE ON AO3!

[dc-said-bi-robin-rights]

BEEP… BEEP… BEEP

Jaime Reyes, the superhero known the world as Blue Beetle, lazily throws an arm over his face as the alarm continues to go off next to his ear. He doesn’t wanna get up. It’s still so early…

“Jaime Reyes,” his Scarab chides, its flat machine-like voice perfectly audible even with the loud, insistent beeping in the background—which makes sense, given that’s its not actually speaking, but rather communicating directly with his mind. “It is almost—”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Jaime groans out loud, sitting up and rubbing the bleariness out of his eyes. He looks at his alarm clock, and his eyes widen. 3:15 in the afternoon. Damn.

“Tres y quince,” he mutters out loud, kicking the blankets away and leaning over to turn off his alarm clock. He missed breakfast, he knows, and is about to miss lunch too if he doesn’t hurry. “Conchale, Khaji, y porque no me despiertas?”

If it was possible for sentient alien WMDs to be irritable, he’s certain Scarab would be shorter-tempered than even Cassie is these days. “Jaime Reyes—”

“Ya, ya, ya,” he interrupts impatiently, waving Scarab off with a sweep of his hand and getting up to walk towards the closet. “Olvidalo, da igual, me visto y ya. Hormiga de miercoles…”

The Scarab mercifully doesn’t bother correcting him, and before long Jaime is sitting down in the living room across from Cassie and Tim, neither of whom spare him a glance, with Tim too busy with his tablet to even bother looking up and Cassie just melancholically glaring down at her food like it is the reason for the mess they’re all in. Jaime isn’t really surprised—no one on the team really spoke to each other all that much anymore after the incident down at the docks two months ago, but it still rankles him for reasons he can’t fully verbalize. Cassie killed someone. They should be trying to figure out what that meant, together, as a team, not closing themselves off in their own little worlds to process what happened by themselves.

He tries to just keep his head down and get with the program, he really does, but after ten long minutes in complete silence the awkwardness becomes too unbearable.

“Soo,” he tries, absentmindedly picking at his food with his fork. “Nice weather we’re having, huh?”

Great start, Jaime.

Cassie completely ignores him, which isn’t a surprise, but he does succeed in making Tim at least raise his head. “Do you need something, Jaime?” he asks neutrally, his eyes cool in a way they really shouldn’t be.

“I… no, I guess not,” he says uncertainly, off-put by the sudden coldness that came over Tim’s demeanor over such a bland, inoffensive statement as the one he just uttered. “Just…”

“Just what?” he asks.

It’s not aggressive.

It’s not Tim, either.

“Nothing,” he replies, swallowing thickly before getting up from the table. “I think I lost my appetite.”

“Did you?” He sounds so… bored. With Jaime. With everything. “That’s too bad.”

Jaime gathers up his plate and half-turns to the kitchen, getting more and more creeped out by the moment. “Right. I, um, I’m just gonna go, if that’s alright with the two of you.”

“Fine by me,” Tim says simply, lowering his gaze back to the tablet. “Just clean your plate before you put it in the dishwasher. We don’t want a repeat of the Bart incident.”

“Sure thing,” Jaime mutters absently as he turns and walking away, feeling Tim’s gaze burn into his back despite the fact he’s not even looking at him. “I’ll get right on it.”

He shakes his head as soon as he’s out of the room. What the hell was up with everyone lately?

~~

“And don’t do it again!” Eddie roars in a strangely deep voice, slamming the door in their faces. They hear it lock a moment later, and an awkward silence engulfs the hallway for a good ten seconds as he and Bart try to process the fact that Eddie Bloomberg just screamed at them over them knocking on his door to invite him to play video games.

“He’s…” Bart tries, before falling silent. Jaime doesn’t know what he was gonna say. Stressed? In a bad mood?

“Yeah, I bet he is,” Jaime mutters, not even completely sure of what he means by that, before tapping his fist against Bart’s shoulder and walking away. “Sorry, hermano. Another day.”

“Yeah,” Bart says quietly, still standing there staring at Eddie’s locked door like it held the keys to some great puzzle. “Another day.”

~~

Jaime holds a fist to his mouth in an attempt to stifle his chuckling as he walks towards M’gann room. In his hand he holds a long, rambling letter from his conspiracy nut uncle warning him about some supposed behind-the-curtain happenings in the military—generals being quietly sacked and replaced with no justification overnight or going missing outright, whole weapon caches disappearing from the official logs, tanks and airplanes being found irreparably damaged from one day to the next, that sort of thing. It’s nonsense, and it reads like the sort of thing a QAnonist might come up with. Jaime wants to do a dramatic reading of it in front of M’gann—he has a feeling they both need more reasons to smile these days, and the last time he read out one of his uncle’s fiery letters the sound of her helpless giggling made him unable to stop smiling for a whole week. Goofing off like that again will do them both good, he decides.

“Hey, chica, come look at this!” he calls out, knocking on her door twice in quick succession.

There’s no answer.

Jaime’s brows knit together in concern. “M’gann?”

Nothing.

“M’gann, come on!” he calls out, knocking frantically on her door, despite the fact that he knows he has to be in there—no one has seen her leave her room in days. “This isn’t funny!”

No answer. He tries the door. Locked.

She’d been burnt after the crisis, Jaime remembers. She’d said she’d be fine. She’d promised.

Please, not another one. We can’t take another one.

“Jaime Reyes,” the Scarab says, and he extends his arm as the left side of his suit materializes over his body. Thanks, Khaji, he thinks, flexing his fingers before curling them into a fist and smashing through the door with a single punch. He gropes blindly for the handle on the other side before his fingers settle around it. He twists, opening the door and walking inside.

The room beyond is empty and devoid of color, completely unlike what it had been the last time Jaime was here. All of M’gann’s belongings are gone, taken. There’s no body, no evidence whatsoever of a fight or of a wound gone bad. It’s as if she simply… vanished.

“M’gann?” Jaime whispers.

The curtains flap in the wind through the open window, the only movement in the lifeless room. It is his only answer.

~~

“Hey,” he greets Rose as he passes her in the hallway, handing her the coffee in his left hand but keeping the one in his right for himself. “Sleep well?”

“Not really,” she admits, taking it from his hands with a grateful nod. “You?”

Jaime sighs. “Not really.”

Nothing more needs to be said—what happened last night was horrible enough without needing to discuss it.

And still… he feels the urge to cover for his kind-of friend, even if what he did was seriously shitty, accident or not. “Listen, I’m sure Eddie thought he was being sweet when he… you know. Are you sure you want to drop him over it? You two were like best friends, right? Maybe if you ju—”

“If the next words out of your mouth are anything like what I think they’re about to be, it’s gonna be you that gets a broken nose next,” Rose warns, closing herself off so fast Jaime has to swallow hard to vanish the sudden dryness in her throat. “Drop it.”

“Fine, okay, sorry,” he says quickly, holding up his hands in surrender. “I won’t bring it up again.”

“Good.”

There’s a long silence, and then, “What are you going to do, then?” Jaime asks, biting his lip. “About Eddie, I mean.”

Rose snorts. “Whatever the hell that thing is, it sure as hell isn’t Eddie anymore.”

Jaime’s eyebrows rise his hairline. “The heck’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nevermind,” she says, moving on before Jaime can press the topic. “I… probably punch someone who cares about me really hard, knowing me.” She pushes her hair back with one hand and sighs, a little bitterly. “It’s what I do best, it seems like.”

Jaime doesn’t dare touch that last part with a five foot pole. “You mean Cassie?”

“Might be best,” Rose agrees, taking a long sip from her coffee cup and licking her lips afterwards… before suddenly grinning widely at him. “Mmh, this is good. Thanks for making the trip, by the way. I know it wasn’t a short one.”

“I was going there anyway,” Jaime lies, wondering why Rose was acting so nice to him all of a sudden. Maybe it was the coffee? He might need to fetch her a cup more often if it meant she’d be nicer to him in the future.

“Uh huh,” she snorts, turning to walk away. “See you around, Jaime.”

“You too, Rose,” he replies, before something suddenly occurs to him. “Hey, wait a moment, actually.”

Rose stops, turning her head to look back at him. “Yeah?”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to spar with Cassie right now?” The image of her glaring furiously down at her plate for no reason at all flashes through his mind. “I don’t think she’s in a good mood today.”

“Worried about little old me now?” Her tone turns bitter again all of a sudden, so fast Jaime’s head spins trying to keep up with her sudden mood shifts. “And here I thought I ‘scared the poop out of you’.”

Jaime has the decency to look sheepish. “You… heard that, huh?”

“I did. So why don’t you keep your advice to yourself and let me worry about my own girlfriend, huh?” she sneers, walking away before Jaime can come up with a reply.

“Oh, come on, I didn’t even…” Jaime trails off. Wait. Girlfriend?

Huh.

That’s new.

Guess they finally got it over with.

And yet… hadn’t Rose told Cassie to never lay a hand on her again after they’d pulled her out of that vision? What was that about? Did they…

Oh, whatever, he thinks, mentally cutting himself off. It’s none of my business anyway.

He doesn’t think much of it until later, when he walks into the unisex bathroom on the fifth floor and sees Rose standing in front of the mirror dabbin at her face with a makeup stick in the dark.

“Uh,” he coughs, taking a step back towards the door. I didn’t even know Rose wore makeup. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were in here. I’ll, just, um—”

“Go in the stall,” she cuts him off, not turning to look at him. “I’m just using the mirror.”

“Uh, okay,” he says, too taken aback to argue. He turns towards the stall, but as he does so, he catches sight of Rose’s reflection in the mirror—and pauses misstep, his eyes widening.

Rose’s one good eye was encircled by the blackest, nastiest bruise he’d ever seen, so large and ugly the eye itself was nearly swelled shut. Jaime starts—he didn’t even know Rose could get bruised, had always assumed her healing factor would take care of any minor injuries like that before they became notable. He’s certainly never seen her with a bruise. Cuts, yeah. But bruises? Nope. Not once.

“Are you…” Jaime starts, his voice trailing away when Rose makes an annoyed noise in the back of her throat.

“Sparring injury. Don’t worry about it.”

“Sparing’s not supposed to leave injuries.”

“Well, it did this time,” Rose says impatiently, turning her head to glare at him. “Do you mind? I’m trying to do something here.”

Her words from earlier run through his mind. “Did Cassie…?”

Every muscle in Rose’s body tenses so suddenly he visibly flinches. “Did Cassie what?” she grinds out, her tone the angriest he’s ever heard from her.

Holy poop, I’m gonna die, he thinks first, quickly followed by, no, wait, Khaji, I’m fine, don’t deploy the suit.

“Well, did she, uh…” he starts, trailing off. It’s such a ridiculous thought he can’t even bring himself to voice it. Cassie can be pretty intense at times, sure, passionate, yeah, stubborn, absolutely, angry, definitely… but she wouldn’t let herself seriously hurt fellow Titans no matter how on edge she was. He quickly change tracks. “Y’know, go overboard a bit by accident?”

Rose relaxes so quickly it gives him whiplash. Her shoulders loosen, her features soften, her fists unclench… it’s like some higher entity flicked her anger switch off and reset her to an earlier mood. Before he can comment on this, she turns her face back to the mirror and goes back to dabbing at it with the stick. “It’s nothing I couldn’t take.”

That’s… not reassuring, either.

“You know you don’t have to ‘take’ anything from a teammate, right?” Jaime asks slowly, not only kind of alarmed now but quite frankly disturbed. A nagging voice in the back of his head keeps telling him something about this just… isn’t right. Rose has been so… off lately. It’s like someone crawled under her skin and found it a too-snug fit, like someone was sat down and told to study a list of all of Rose’s mannerisms and speech-isms without bothering to provide them with the context to them. “Much less from someone who’s supposed to be your partner in… well, everything.”

“Uh huh,” Rose says disinterestedly, turning her face this way and that to observe herself. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

There’s something strangely familiar in the way she’s…

A memory flashes in his mind’s eye. He had once walked in on Traci standing in front of the mirror, dabbing at a spot on her cheek with a stick just like the one Rose is using now.

“What’s that?” he had asked, pointing at it.

“Oh, this?” She had held it up. “It’s…”

Concealer.

It’s not makeup, he realizes with a start. It’s concealer!

Rose isn’t giving herself a foundation, she’s trying to cover up the bruise!

He… he shouldn’t point this out. He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t, after how Rose just reacted to him even vaguely implying Cassie might have hurt her on purpose.

And yet…

“If it’s really just a sparring injury,” he says, very carefully, “why are you trying to cover it up?”

Rose stiffens. Very slowly, she drops the stick into the sink—Jaime can hear it clank against the marble—and grabs the edges of it. Then she just… stays like that, staring down at the sink like it was a divination pool in one of those shitty mmos people swore were supposed to be fun. Jaime waits, and waits, and waits, and just when he has given up on her ever answering and turned towards the door she speaks again, her voice quiet. “It made daddy feel guilty.”

His hand freezes on the doorknob. “What?”

“Looking at it,” she elaborates, like that explained anything. Jaime hears the creak of her gloves as her fingers tighten on the sink. “She… she didn’t mean to. She told me so.”

There’s a very long pause as Jaime turns around and just… stares at Rose.

“What did you just say?” he finally asks, just to make sure it wasn’t his imagination.

For a moment, nothing happens, and then Rose slightly turns her face, her one eye piercing Jaime with its intensity. He can’t move. He’s pinned in place, speared through the heart by the cold blue ice swimming in its depths. “What do you mean?”

“I… what you just said, it was…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rose says cooly. “I never said anything to you.”

“I…”

“Did you hear something, Jaime?” she asks slowly, and something about her voice makes Jaime feel like the bug his persona is named after.

“I…uh, I…”

“Did you?” she insists, her gloves creaking again, and suddenly Khaji Da is screeching alerts into his mind, demanding he summon the suit, threatening him with assuming direct control if he doesn’t comply. He forces his alien ride-along back as harshly as he can and takes a step back, then two.

“No,” he says, his voice almost a whisper, but he can’t for the life of him make it louder. His throat is so dry…

She looks amused. “No?”

“No, I didn’t,” he breathes. “I never heard you say anything.”

“I thought not.” Her lips slowly curl into a half-smirk, and like a switch, it’s Rose again. “See you later, Jaime.”

“I… see you later, Rose,” he breathes, blindly groping for the door knob, unwilling to turn his back to her after whatever the heck that was about. His fingers close around it and he hails it open, harder than he meant to, and he has to consciously slow down to cover up the terrified action before Rose is tipped off to his rapidly rising terror. He holds the door open with his foot and slowly starts exiting the room, keeping his eyes on Rose the entire time, like she’d change again if he looked away.

He waits until he hears the door shut behind him to breathe again, only now feeling the way his heart is pumping a mile a minute.

What the actual duck?

~~

He’s fully convinced himself the entire thing in the bathroom was some kind of cuckoo hallucination by the next day, despite Khaji doggedly insisting it wasn’t and requesting permission to label Rose as an enemy in his systems.

“For the last time, Khaji,” he says out loud as he pushes open the door to the gym—Cassie had gotten rid of the automatic doors some days ago, for reasons Jaime couldn’t really understand—something about buying newer, more reinforced models. “Rose isn’t…” he trails off, catching sight of the titular ex-mercenary running on her personal treadmill near the back wall, her hair pulled back, a towel slung around her bare shoulders. He smiles, reassured by such a normal sight; he’s scared poopless of Rose by his own admission, but just because he knows she could totally crack his skull like a watermelon if he put his head under her foot while she was running doesn’t mean he’s not still glad to see someone acting normally around here for once.

“Jaime Reyes, nothing about this situation is normal,” the Scarab warns, it’s robotic voice sounding actually frustrated. “Do not go near her. I repeat, do not—”

“Hey, Rose,” he calls out as he walks past her, receiving only a grunt in response. “What’s up?”

Khaji Da screeches it’s displeasure into his mind, but he pointedly ignores it.

“Nothing much,” Rose replies in between bouts of heavy breathing. Jaime looks at her machine’s display and sees she’s running at an average speed nearly twice that of Usain Bolt at his prime. “You?”

“Nothing much,” he says, reassured by how normal she’s acting that the whole thing in the bathroom was just his imagination. “I just felt like doing some weights today.

“Good for you,” Rose pants, a grin in her voice. “You could use some bulki—augh!”

Jaime turns to see something impossible—Rose Wilson collapsed on the ground, clutching her leg, having fallen off the treadmill like an amateur.

“Uh, you okay?” he asks hesitantly, more confused than concerned—he’d been pretty sure Rose was biologically incapable of being clumsy up until now.

“Fuck… off,” Rose spits, gritting her teeth and trying to stand… only to fall on her ass a second time with a pained grunt. It’s kind of embarrassing, actually.

“Hey, I’m just wondering if you’re okay,” Jaime protests, instead of voicing that particular out loud, because he’s not in fact suicidal.

“Well, stop wondering—I’m fine,” she snarls, trying to stand up again and failing for the third time. “Just… tripped. I…”

“Jaime Reyes,” Khaji Da says in his mind, making Rose’s voice fade into the background. “I have detected information you might want to hear.”

“Spill,” he says out loud, cutting Rose off mid-sentence and earning himself “The Look”—his name for the weird looks people always gave him when he started seemingly talking to himself.

“Subject Rose “Ravager” Wilson has a severely torn muscle in her lower left calf,” it reports, “likely due to to significant overtaxing over a very short period of time.”

“That’s…”

“Not all,” the Scarab interrupts. “She also has several slightly older injuries that would typically require medical attention, including two cracked ribs, a bruised pelvis, and a fractured leg.”

Jaime rounds on Rose, incredulous. “You were running forty two miles an hour on a broken leg?!”

Rose scowls up at him. “How did you…?”

“Nevermind that,” Jaime interrupts, kneeling down in front to Rose and offering her his hand. “Are you insane or what?”

Rose slaps aside his hand and slowly, painfully, gets up on her own. “You don’t understand,” she grinds out, teeth gritted against the pain.

“Then help me understand,” he demands, reaching out to steady her as she stumbles. “You’re gonna kill yourself at this rate.”

“She needs me,” Rose snarls, pushing him away. “That’s worth a little pain.”

“Who, Rose?” he retorts, exasperated, feeling like he’s going insane. What the hell was up with everyone? “Who needs you so badly you’d kill yourself to help them?”

“Hey,” a familiar voice says, and he turns to see Cassie standing in the doorway. “Everything okay in here?

He doesn’t miss the way her eyes jealously linger on the closeness between him and Rose for a moment longer than excusable.

Jaime opens his mouth to say something like, “Did you do this to her?”, but Rose beats him to the punch.

“Everything’s fine, da—dear,” Rose assures her, and it’s so obviously such a not-Rose thing to say that Jaime seriously contemplates whether he’s actually still asleep and this isn’t some really weird dream.

“Good,” Cassie says, her eyes flickering again to Jaime before they round on Rose, “cause I was wondering if you wanted to spar again today.”

A flash of dread crosses Rose’s face, so obvious and unveiled even Cassie must have plainly caught it. “I’d love to.”

“Great!” Cassie beams, and the world’s not only gone off its axis, it’s detached completely and is currently heading towards a black hole. “Training room 3A?”

Rose gives a pained grin. “It’s a date.”

Cassie’s smile widens, and she turns and walks out of the room. Jaime turns to Rose, aiming to silently implore her not to go… only to find her already following after Cassie, trotting a bit—fractured leg notwithstanding—to keep up.

I’m in a freaking madhouse, Jaime realizes.

~~

Jaime taps his fingers against his leg, carefully not looking at either Conner or Bart, who are seated on the floor in front of him playing a fighting game. It’s his turn next, but try as he might, he finds he just can’t concentrate on that with everything that’s happened.

He tries to dismiss the urge to ask the others about it, but it eventually it grows too strong for him, and he concedes to it. “So… Rose has been acting pretty weird lately.”

There’s a long, pregnant pause.

“Has she?” says Conner, too curiously for it to be genuine. “I haven’t noticed.”

His heart skips a beat for reasons he can’t entirely articulate. Conner probably notices. He tries not to think about that.

“Hmm,” he says noncomitally, his eyes flickering over to the other boy. “What about you, Bart? Have you noticed anything?”

There’s an even longer pause.

“Nope,” Bart says slowly “Can’t say I have.”

~~

“She’s just stressed,” Rose tells him later, as they both sit on the roof looking at the stars. It had been her and Eddie’s favorite spot once, he knows, but Eddie never comes out of his room anymore. “Fighting me helps her, lets her gauge how hard she can go on normal opponents now that she’s not holding back as much anymore. She’s been doing a pretty good job of pulling her punches back so far.”

He’d be more inclined to believe her if it wasn’t for the brand-new cast over her wrist, the sheer white of it at a stark contrast to the thin strings of Rose’s blue bikini. “If you say so .”

“I do,” she says plainly, taking a long puff from her cigarette with her free hand. When she exhales, she blows out the smoke in a perfect ring. She watches it rise high up in the air for a moment, before wrestling a small stone free from the railing and handing it to him. “Throw it.”

“Huh?” Jaime says intelligently.

“Throw it. Through the ring. It should be pretty easy for you…” She grins. “…unless it’s actually the suit that does all the aiming for you.”

Jaime’s feels his lip curl into a smile. “What do I get if I do get it through?” he asks, cocking his arm back.

“You’ll see. Throw it.”

He does. It gets through. His smile widens.

“What’s my prize?” he asks, turning to Rose… before his smile fades at the look of dread on her face. “Rose?”

“I thought… I thought it was just a dream,” she murmurs, more to herself than to Jaime. “That…”

“Thought what was just a dream?” Jaime asks, frowning.

Rose turns her head to look at him. There’s something in her eyes he can’t quite place. She doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but just when Jaime opens his mouth to speak again, she says, “Don’t do it tomorrow.”

“Do what?”

“You know what. Don’t do it tomorrow,” she says, before standing up and walking away without another word.

Jaime blinks. “Rose?”

She does not look back, but Jaime swears he can hear her mutter, “Trust me.”

~~

“Ok, let’s see what you’ve been hiding,” Jaime says, cracking his fingers and getting to work on cracking Tim’s encryption.

I took a hacking class in high school. How hard could it be?

Very hard, as it turns out. Jaime’s on the verge of giving up when he finds a note taped to the bottom of the desk that reads, “New password is SpoilerAlert. Don’t forget this time. You owe at least that to her, you utter failure.”

It’s written in Tim’s hand. Jaime decides not to think too hard about it.

“Ok, let’s see what the hell is going on here…”

As he logs into Tim’s private files, the grandfather clock set against the far wall of Tim’s office chimes with the coming of the hour.

Tick

“—this is mercy!”

He shuts his eyes when Eddie starts screaming. Goddamn it. They should’ve realized…

Tock

“You made me do it. You made me.”

Tick

There’s a horrible squelching noise as the thief’s head yields beneath the force of Cassie’s fist, spraying pink matter and bits of flesh everywhere. The video wobbles as the person holding the phone steps back in shock, an action mirrored by everyone in the small crowd of criminals… until the screams begin.

“No, wait!” Cassie yells as everyone in the crowd save for the mysterious recorder starts to run, holding her hands out in a gesture of peace—which might be more effective if the dead thief’s brains weren’t still dripping from them. “I didn’t mean to! I…” she trails off, looking down at her hands like she’s never seen them before, like they belong to someone else. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to.”

Tock

The clock chimes again by the time Jaime stops vomiting.

Tick

“If you’re seeing this, it means I’m leaving,” M’gann says into the security camera. “Please, Tim, show this tape to the others. I don’t want… I can’t say goodbye in person after what I just saw in your mind, but…”

Tock

“Ravager, huh?” The thing that wasn’t Eddie asked, grinning at the picture on his phone, which is pincered carefully between two massive red fingers. “Mmmh, I’d like to ravage her. I think she’d make a wonderfully feisty bride, wouldn’t you agree?”

“What, uh, makes you think that?” asks Tim, who is clearly uncomfortable with the situation… though not uncomfortable enough to leave it, clearly.

“Call it a feeling,” Not-Eddie says, his grin widening. “I have several, you know. I know these things.”

“Several…?”

“Brides,” the demon clarifies, his eyes literally blazing with mirth. “All of them beautiful and very happy with their place in life, I’ll have it said. I’m nothing if not a sensitive and attentive husband.”

“Right…”

“How much for the Ravager?” he asks, leaning forward and placing his palms on the desk, unaware or uncaring how his fiery hands singe the wood black underneath them. “You mortals do still like gold, don’t you?”

“Uh…”

“Or perhaps… it is power you seek?” Not-Eddie presses, his grin widening. “I can see your desires… you think yourself intelligent, little boy, but I can give you a mind that would dwarf all others. Would you like that?”

Jaime wishes he couldn’t tell Tim was tempted.

“I… no,” he says finally, swallowing thickly, as if mourning the opportunity he’s just rejected.

“No?” The demon raises an eyebrow, then shrugs. “Hmm… perhaps I misjudged you. It happens sometimes, it must be said. Very well, I could also offer you…”

“No, I meant…” he trails off, and for a moment Jaime thinks it’s because he’s struggling to think of a way to explain the concept of women having rights to a demon before Tim’s next words smash that optimistic hope to bits. “I meant, she’s really not mine to sell in the first place. She’s Cassie’s thing, not mine.”

Jaime’s breath stutters in disbelief. What the actual…?

“Oh?”

“Yeah, and even if she knew about your, uh, transformation, she’d never give Rose up after all the trouble she went to keep her around, even though it’s obviously the pragmatic thing to do. Sorry.”

“I see.”

But, um,” Tim starts, licking his lips. “That doesn’t mean I couldn’t get you… other things, if you made it worth my while… and didn’t tell Cassie.”

The demon looks intrigued. “Go on.”

Tim leans forward, a greedy glint coming over his eyes. “Well, you demons like making deals with desperate people, right?”

“You could say that.”

Tim’s lips slowly curl into a smile, and something about it makes Jaime’s mouth go dry. “How would you like to get your hands on a few supervillains?”

Tick

“Oh, G-God, Tim, I-I actually d-did it,” Cassie sobs into Tim’s shoulder, nearly incoherent with regret. “I-I did it, and… she… she didn’t even wake up! She… she trusted me, subconsciously, and I… I…”

“Hey, hey, don’t do that,” Tim says softly, rubbing soothing circles into Cassie’s back. “You had to. She left you no other choice.”

“That’s b-bullshit, and you know it!” Cassie yells, pushing away from Tim and wiping furiously at her eyes. “Great Hera, what have I done? I… I… I’m worse than Slade.”

Tim rolls his eyes. “Oh come on, even you don’t believe that.”

“And why not?” Cassie snaps, furiously rounding on Tim, tears running down her cheeks. “At least Slade had the decency to look her in the eyes when he did it! I snuck up on her while she was sleeping! Like some… some coward!”

Tim sighs. “Look, we both know we couldn’t just let someone with as much intel on us as Rose just walk out of here weeks before the operation… and if it makes you feel better, I condensed the formula so that you would only have to do it once instead of every weeks, like Slade.”

Cassie sniffs, wiping away a tear in the corner of her eye with her finger. “I… I need to tell her.”

Tim’s face visibly twitches in a way that makes Jaime’s heart fearfully skip a beat. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not,” she says fiercely, blinking to clear the moisture in her eyes. “This is wrong, Tim. What I did was… horrible. I knew how scared she was of being controlled like that again… and I still did it!” She wipes at her eyes and turns towards the door, and for a moment it seems everything is gonna work out okay. “I can’t stand it a moment longer. I have to tell her.”

His eyes flicker to the date of the recording. It’s nearly a month old.

Rose had still been acting weird less than a day ago.

Dammit, he thinks, squeezing his eyes shut. Goddamn all you people, you’ve all gone insane.

He suddenly wants nothing more than to be at home with his sister, and his parents, in that place he grew up in, where everyone speaks Spanish and there are barbecues every Sunday and things are simply and easy and people he used to care about don’t turn out to secretly be massive douchebags, and—

“Do what you want,” he hears Tim say, seemingly uncaring. “I’m just wondering if you’ve thought the consequences through.”

Don’t stop, he feels himself thinking, even though he knows full well she is going to stop. Don’t listen to him. Keep going. Tell Rose. Make it make sense again.

“What do you mean?” Cassie’s voice asks hesitantly, and he doesn’t need to open his eyes again to know that she’s stopped. He still does it anyway.

“I mean, what do you think is gonna happen when you tell her you drugged her?” Tim asks sardonically, chuckling a little when Cassie’s expression tightens. “See, even you know I’m right. Remind me, how many times has she tried to kill Slade by now…?”

“I…”

“Four? Five?” He grins. “And like you said, at least Slade had the decency to look her in the eye when he did it. You… not so much.”

“I… what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, if you tell Rose what you did, you lose her forever,” Tim says, a bit more gently. “I mean, she was gearing up to leave even before you drugged her. She’s not ever going to forgive you if you tell her. You know that, right?”

“That… that doesn’t matter,” Cassie says, too firmly, like she’s trying to convince not only Tim but herself too. “What I did to her was wrong. I have to make up for it.”

Tim looks at her, then sighs, standing up and walking towards the medical cabinet in the back of the lab. “Okay.”

“I… really?”

“Yeah,” Tim says, pulling open one of the drawers and pulling out a long, thin syringe filled with an unfamiliar green liquid. “This is the antidote. You give this to Rose, she’ll be back to normal within the hour.”

He turns around and holds it out for Cassie to grab. “Take it.”

Do it. Come on. Please. It’s right there. You can fix everything if you just take it. It’s right there.

Cassie hesitates. “The serum… it’s not really mind control, is it?”

Jaime can Tim’s lips quirk up slightly. He’s just won, he realizes. “Nope. It just enhances feelings that are already there.”

By which he means it sends all of her emotions into overdrive and makes her extremely unstable. Goddamn it. How are you falling for this? You’re Wonder Girl. Use your freaking brain.

“Maybe… maybe it would be best to wait a bit before giving her the antidote,” Cassie says slowly, looking like she herself doesn’t believe what is saying. “Just to make sure the whole… thing is not as raw as it would be right now. Besides… since it’s a new version, it could have side effects we don’t know about, right? Maybe it would be best to stand back and study her case for a bit to make sure we don’t accidentally put her in distress by ‘curing’ her.”

Tim’s lips curl into an open smile. “I knew you’d come around.”

Tock

Operation Titanomachy.

It’s a strange name for a file.

Jaime clicks on it, more by curiosity than anything else, and his eyes widen at what he sees inside. There are plans for a full takeover of the government, graphs showcasing “military infiltration levels”, monthly political pie charts that are steady turning more and more extremist with every month, blueprints for state-run super-weapons, everything and anything an up-and-coming supervillain would need to—

An alarm suddenly blares in his head, and he turns, his suit materializing around him as the smoke pellets roll along the floor and hiss open, expelling what Khaji labels a deadly neurotoxin into the air. It’s about as dangerous to his suit’s air filtration system as a pebble and about as useful, though, so Jaime simply switches his vision settings to thermal and blasts Tim straight in the chest with his hand cannon. He flies back, out of the cloud of smoke and into the far wall, which he collapses against with a pained moan. Jaime marches right over to him and grabs him by the cape before he can recover, dragging him along the floor as he marches straight to the conference room.

One way or another, this insanity ends now.

“Jaime Reyes, this course is I’ll-advised,” the Scarab warns him, but he doesn’t care anymore. Six months. Six months of sitting there like a lamp, watching his friends turn into murders, and for what? For them to plot to take over the government? For Tim to sell incarcerated supervillains to a demon—and not just any demon, but the one that had killed Eddie? For Cassie to drug Rose the exact same way her father drugged her? No. He’s not stopping to consider a better option. He’d already let this go too far.

“J-Jaime,” Tim gasps, but it isn’t Jaime he’s speaking to anymore, it’s Blue Beetle. He has just enough time to squawk out a “w-wait!” before he founds himself picked up and lobbed through the door, which breaks under his weight and deposits him on the floor amidst a pile of broken wood.

“Nobody moves!” Blue Beetle snarls, his arm cannon raised and pointed at the room’s inhabitants, who look up in shock at his entrance. “I’ve had just about enough of this!”

The conference room is a little different from how it was the last time he was in here. The table is new, a holographic map of the world with several places outlined in red. At the back, Wonder Girl’s chair, recognizable by the ‘W’ symbol on the back of it, has been placed on a slight dais, all the better to look out over the contents of the map… and, perhaps unintentionally, down on the people around it.

Looks like they’ve already gotten started on all the fascist imagery. Figures.

Not that there were all that many people around the table—for whatever reason, only Wonder Girl, Superboy, and now Red Robin were in the room with him, with Rose obviously absent and Impulse nowhere to be found. As for Superboy and Wonder Girl, they were both seated some distance apart, but jumped to their feet at his entrance.

“Jaime, wh—” Wonder Girl cries, before she is cut off by an energy blast hitting the wall an inch from her ear. “Hey!”

“I know. I know what you’re plotting,” he reveals, taking a step forward, his helmet retracting rom his head so he can look her in the eyes. “And I know what you did.”

Wonder Girl visibly swallows. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Liar,” he accuses, lips twisting into a scowl. “How does it feel knowing you betrayed everything you stood for? That you betrayed the one person who’s never going to forgive you for it?”

Wonder Girl looks stricken for a moment, before her eyes flicker to his cannon hand.

“Jaime, think about this,” she warns, in a tone usually reserved for stupid, misbehaving children. “We’re your friends. We don’t wanna…”

“Lady, I don’t know who the hell you people are anymore,” Blue Beetle interrupts, priming his cannon, “but you’re sure as hell not my friends.”

Wonder Girl’s eyes flicker again, this time to something behind him, and by the time Blue Beetle thinks to turn two fiery-hot hands have clamped tightly onto his face from behind. A sizzling noise fills his ears, and it takes him a moment to register its his own flesh that’s burning. He screams, feeling his face boil beneath his assailant’s fingertips, and turns, shoving away the thing that wasn’t Eddie and then sending him crashing back with an energy blast. The massive demon—for, it seems, Red Devil had been metamorphosing somehow in his room and has now emerged as a muscular, eight feet tall version of himself—lets out a grunt and lies still as its back hits the wall, but Blue Beetle doesn’t let his guard down; he turns and transforms his left hand into a blade just in time to block Wonder Girl’s descending fist. Sparks fly as the alien metal clashes against her steel bracelet, but Blue Beetle doesn’t lean into the lock, knowing Wonder Girl is much stronger than he is, instead choosing to send a kick quick to her stomach to get some distance in between them and turn to face his other opponent—not fast enough, though. Superboy tackles him around the waist and flies them both into the wall, prompting a pained gasp from Blue Beetle as all the air is forced out of his ribs, and he doesn’t stop there: hits start raining down on his head, one after the other, so hard his helmet starts cracking, unable to protect his head from the powerful blows until… now, Khaji! His chest opens up, expelling a highly concentrated beam of energy that sends Superboy crashing into and through the ceiling, going up and up and up at an angle until he is blasted well out of the Tower. There’s no time to catch his breath, however, as Wonder Girl’s lasso suddenly snaps taut around his wrist and pulls him, first into the wall, then, as he crashes down, into a punch that completely shatters his helmet and leaves him seeing stars on the ground.

Ouch. He needs to—

He rolls back, jumping to his feet and into the air as bomb pellets explode on the ground beneath him, summoning his wings and manifesting an energy shield to protect himself from the blast. The force of it crashes against his shield, and he can feel the searing heat ford around him like a stone in a river, but he is unharmed, and a moment later he makes Red Robin pay for getting up by strafing him with his energy cannon. He dodges the first, the second, but not the third blast, and Blue Beetle lands on the ground to finish him off… only to find his cannon hand pulled away by Wonder’s Girl lasso at the last moment, directing his blast into the floor instead. He turns and yanks on the lariat with his free hand, aiming to pull her off her feet in a move he once saw Rose use in one of her and Wonder Girl’s sparring matches, but he isn’t Rose, and this isn’t sparring; Wonder Girl not only keeps her feet, but pulls back, and the short tug of war ends the only way it could—with Blue Beetle speeding through the air straight into Wonder Girl’s grip. She wastes no time raising him high into the air before turning and smashing him down into the fancy new holographic conference table, which breaks under his weight, leaving him dazed in a pile of broken glass.

Okay, might have beaten bitten off a bit more than I could chew here, he thinks, shaking off his discombobulation and dodging just in time for Wonder Girl’s fist to leave a crater where his head had been a moment prior.

Looks like Rose was right, she really is pulling her punches. Not.

Cassie doesn’t let up, her fists surging towards him with the speed and accuracy of homing missiles, and he—he—

He feels his neck be seized from behind, and knows in that moment it’s about to be snapped.

No, that can’t be, he thinks inanely in his last moments of life, reaching up to grab futilely at the arm around his neck. Rose said don’t do it tomorrow, and I didn’t, unless… he focuses his gaze on the window. There is light coming from underneath the curtains.

It’s morning.

“Oh, he breathes, and he hears the crunch long before he feels it.

~~

There is a very long silence as Eddie stands over Jaime, panting.

“Eddie,” Cassie breathes, feeling a pit open in her stomach. “Eddie, what did you do?”

Eddie looks up… and slowly smiles.

“Doomed boy,” the wind whispers in their ears as it fled them, like the crowd had fled Cassie after what she did. “Doomed, doomed, doomed.”

[themoonlitsojourner]

“What brings you here, anyway?” He tilts his head. “Who are you?”

“No one,” she says without thinking. Pulse spiking and palms going clammy, a moment later.

His eyebrows shoot up. “‘No one?’ Huh, your parents were certainly creative. I’m Gar.”

Flustered, she shakes her head. “Tara. My name is Tara. It’s just…” She folds her arms. “I’m not exactly supposed to be here.”

“But of course, the price of resources has skyrocketed. Our product, in turn, has been forced to…”

“How is your mother? Ever since I caught word of her illness…”

“I do relish the caviar. I believe our gracious hosts have opted for the Beluga sturgeon variety. It has a certain note of…”

It’s… It’s huge. Huge, and bathed in gold and silver, half-filled with whirling reds, and greens, and blues fanning out in full, elegant skirts. Spotted with crisply tailored tuxedos in shades of black and charcoal and white. Tables laden high and heavy with more kinds of food than she could imagine.

A shoulder hits her back.

Tara stumbles and flushes and catches her balance and turns around, but there’s no one there. Er– there’s lots of people there. People looking her way, wondering about the underdressed, unaccompanied, and awkward girl gaping like a waif off the street–

Tara forces one foot forward. The next. Step by step, and she’s ghosting across the edge of the echoing ballroom. Avoiding the tide. Struggling not to get pulled adrift into the sea of well-dressed, well-mannered bodies. But she can’t keep her eyes from wandering the room.

They’re all so tall, and confident, and dressed in silks and shades she’s never even heard of, talking about things strange enough to be another language, about owning companies, and kingdoms, and ships, and–

Tara freezes. Her heart lodges in her throat.

Gregor stands tall and proud, talking eloquently and energetically with a couple dripping with… diamonds. Those are diamonds. Gregor makes a point, tilting his head and lifting his eyebrows, and the red-handkerchiefed gentleman nods. An impressed smile graces his mustached lips. The lady next to him, color-coordinated with the handkerchief, looks ready to adopt Gregor. And Gregor, he… He isn’t looking this way.

Tara breathes out and shuffles a few steps back. She turns and ducks behind a pillar, careful to keep her movements casual and– and normal. This is normal. These things happen every day, she attends these things every day, she– she knows what she’s doing.

With long strides, she walks away from her brother. Ha, brother? Who? What brother? Don’t mind her, just keep talking, don’t look back…

Tara stops in the corner. A vantage point, where she can see– well, not everything, but most of it. But a lot of it. And…

She sags back against the cool, marble walls.

No sign of Brion. No sign of… of anyone else she knows.

Which is good, right? No one she knows, then no one who knows her. No one who can recognize and tell on her, no one who can get her into… trouble.

Seas, and seas drift by. Dress, after suit, after dress. Talking. Laughing. Back and forth, and all around, and no one– No one looks her way.

Why was she worried?

Tara curls her hand around the bruises on her wrist, squeezing her eyes shut as the pressure wells in her head. T–this was dumb. She’s risking Elodie’s wrath for this? Why did she even–

Rippling, care-free laughter rides the air. Above the clamor, above the static of nonsense. It rolls over her ears like a message, light and musical like a– like a river stream or something. Nothing like the false brass of forced belly laughs, or the broken glass chitter of a mouth-covered giggle…

It rings in her head. Bouncing off the walls of her skull long after it’s finished. Tara bites her lip and lifts her head. She pushes off the wall. She lifts onto her toes, peering over a hundred heads of perfectly coiffed hair…

There. A boy halfway across the room, dressed in a sea green tuxedo with his dark hair neatly slicked, his head tipped back.

Face still quirked in laughter to the amusement of the handful of adults stationed around him.

How old is he? About… could he be twelve? He… seems to be having fun. He seems to know how these things work.

He seems to belong here.

The boy opens his eyes. It’s too far to really see, but she thinks they might be green. And he… looks directly at her. And scrunches his nose in another smile.

Tara drops onto her flat feet. She checks over her shoulder.

No one in particular. No one looking his way. No one he could be… smiling at.

She looks back at the boy. He is looking at her, and he tips his head to the crowd around him, whose focuses have all shifted back to each other. And he rolls his eyes.

Tara’s heart thuds in her chest. A slow grin spreads over her face. She lets the tip of her tongue poke out, just for a second.

The boy crosses his eyes.

The sound of her own laugh under her breath startles her. Tara sets her finger on the skin beneath her eye and pulls it down, zombie style, and he…

Oh. He’s turning away. Nudging the shoulder of the man next to him, deep in conversation with a sharp-eyed, clean-shaven monolith. The boy says something. The man dismisses him with a gesture, never tearing his eyes or his attention from the conversation. The boy makes a face.

Tara glances around. She takes a step back, toward the balcony. It’s, um, it’s quieter out there, and less crowded, and there aren’t nearly as many people, or as much chance of getting spotted, and–

Surprise ties her in place as she takes one more glance. One more look over her shoulder that she shouldn’t. And sees the boy slip past the adults. And begin making his way across the floor to her.

Her drum of a heart takes up a pulsing rhythm again at the sight. At his hands in his pockets. At impossibly green, gold-flecked eyes gazing out beneath perfect dark hair, and perfect dark lashes. They are locked on… on her. And they sparkle.

He stops a few feet away. “Hey.” He rocks back on his heels. The smile never left his face. The best Tara’s ever seen, boyish and charming and shy, all wrapped up in a gap-toothed grin. “Where do cows go dancing?”

Something in Tara’s brain stutters. She blinks. “Excuse me?”

A sparkle. And a mischievous glint. “The meatball.”

There is the strangest, longest, briefest second, between his joke and her understanding, before the gold-inlaid floor fills her vision as she doubles over laughing.

When she straightens, it’s a new grin gracing his lips. Delighted. Relaxed.

“You came all the way over here to tell me that?” Tara shakes her head.

He shrugs, shoulders nearly touching his ears. “I–uh… Wanted to hear you laugh up close.”

Warmth floods her face and arms. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she lets out another laugh, this one nervous and not by choice.

She has never heard anyone say anything like that before.

“What brings you here, anyway?” He tilts his head. “Who are you?”

“No one,” she says without thinking. Pulse spiking and palms going clammy, a moment later.

His eyebrows shoot up. “‘No one?’ Huh, your parents were certainly creative. I’m Gar.”

Flustered, she shakes her head. “Tara. My name is Tara. It’s just…” She folds her arms. “I’m not exactly supposed to be here.”

Danger. Slipping from her lips. She checks over her shoulder, no one around, there’s no one around, right…?

Gar’s grin catches and pulls her attention back to him as it turns crooked, tugging on one side of his mouth. Revealing neat, white teeth. “A stowaway!” He holds out his hand, nodding to the doorway behind her shedding moonlight. “Let’s hide on the balcony.”

Tara stares at the offered palm. Her blood clamors in her veins, an uncertain marching band composed entirely of drums and cymbals.

“They’ve asked for my help upstairs. Just stay here.” Elodie had tied and untied the apron around her waist with a faraway look in her eyes. “Don’t go anywhere, and don’t talk to anyone. They’ll all be up there. Dukes, and earls, and countesses… And the last thing we need is you meeting the prime minister.” Her hand on the doorknob. Her mind on the dance floor. “Stay here.”

And she forgot to lock the door.

…But that doesn’t have anything to do with Gar. He won’t know unless she tells him, she won’t tell him, and everything will be fine. And the ‘don’t talk to anyone’… That wouldn’t even mean him, would it? Not Gar, with the beautiful eyes and the gentle smile. Not a boy her own age, just looking for some… Company? Fun? What is he looking for?

…It doesn’t matter. She’s knee deep as soon as they find out, anyway.

So Tara fits her fingers between Gar’s. And together, they escape into the crisp night.

The polite din of a party nearly two hundred strong fades into static. Tara hears her own breath, slow and shallow.

“Do you like constellations?”

She tears her gaze away from her hand, wrapped up in the secure, warm brown of his. He sees her looking and quickly lets go. Immediately, the North wind turns her hand cold.

Tara rubs it with her other hand and swallows. What was his question? “I– yeah. I love them.”

Gar looks at her like it’s a secret. Like the commonality is a shared shred of soul. “Me too. Show me your favorite.”

She folds her arms across the top of the banister, searching the skies for what she knows isn’t there any more. “Hydra. The sea serpent. But you can’t see it after May.”

“Funny.” Gar huffs a laugh. “We get that one in the southern hemisphere too.”

From the corner of her eye, Tara steals a glance. “The southern hemisphere?”

“I live in Africa. My parents are scientists.”

Her heart twinges painfully. “They’re here for the charity ball.”

He nods. “Why the sea serpent?”

Tara swallows. “I don’t know. I guess… Well, it’s the largest constellation in the sky.”

“Cool,” Gar says softly. Not good enough. He already knows that.

“It takes hours to rise at night,” Tara blurts out. “And…” She hesitates. His question ringing in her head. Why, why… “I like… how it does its own thing,” she finishes lamely.

“I like the Jewel Box cluster.” Gar hops up onto the railing. Like, actually sits on it, dangling his tuxedoed legs off the side and revealing rumpled black dress socks falling down his ankles. “It looks like four stars. Until you get a telescope and find out it’s hundreds.”

Tara bites into her lip. She steals a glance over her shoulder.

Half open doors, hesitantly admitting the night. It’s immediately drowned out by dozens of chandeliers and a ten piece instrumental band. There is no sign of her brothers.

Tara breathes out. And she turns back toward the stars, taking Gar’s hand and swinging herself up onto the bannister next to him. She pushes her hair out of her face. She asks, a little breathless, “What else do you like, Gar from Africa?”

His eyes shine stranger and deeper than the gaps in the galaxy. “Dude, so many things.”

“Tell me.”

Hours fall by, sand in an hourglass. The magnetism of his smile, his laugh, his casual attention draws her ever nearer. A black hole of infatuation. A night sky of potential.

It is worth every silent, locked-in hour that follows.

[the-lighthouse-lit]

The Club of Unauthorized Heroes - Year 2

Fandom: Teen Titans

Pairings: BBxRae, BBxTer, RobxStar, CyxBee

Rating: T

Summary: The ambiguously-named Project Club of Murakami High has established themselves as not-so-secret superheroes for hire. But while the team navigates the pressure of being out in the open and worries that their stint of big missions was just a fluke, a new threat set out to dismantle everything they’ve worked for brews right underneath their noses. [High School AU]

───

Chapter 14: Mid-January. Black hole enters the galaxy p.1

Preview:

Kori sat to the counter and waited for the fries. When she looked back, her friends and Komila were roaring with laughter. She guessed her sister had told the story after all.

Kori couldn’t even blame them for being swept up by Komi. Her sister was a rock star. She filled up a whole room; the air felt empty when she left. They were so outwardly similar that there was always a moment of comparison between them, and Kori always came short.

Even in their own family, Komi was the planet around which the rest of them gravitated, like mere satellites. Or she was the black hole that swallowed everything. Sooner or later, everything went to her.

Read:   On AO3 On FF.Net

[junipernight]

First Impressions/Foreign Tongue

Chapter 6: Hanasemasen

Summary: There's trouble... in Tokyo.

“Toky-whoa!” Beast Boy exclaimed as soon as the black energy surrounding them dissipated. 

Raven had teleported the Titans directly onto a busy sidewalk in downtown Tokyo, and colorful lights and interesting aromas barraged them from all sides. Skyscrapers stretched to the cosmos above them, and on the street, a stream of cyclists whizzed past. More than a few people had stopped to stare at the Titans sudden appearance, and a couple had taken out cell phones.

Starfire and Cyborg were staring this way and that like a pair of owls, and Beast Boy had whipped out a second disposable camera, but Robin still had his nose buried in a guidebook.

“So, where to now?” Raven asked him.

“The roughest part of town is in the Shinjuku district,” said Robin. “We'll start our search there.”

“Okay, which way is that?” Cyborg asked.

Robin scowled, and finally closed the book. “I don’t know. I can’t read the signs.”

Cyborg brightened, but before he could do anything, Beast Boy loudly proclaimed: “No problem-o, we’ll just ask for directions.” 

He strolled up to an unsuspecting old man in a neatly pressed business suit and tapped his shoulder. The man folded up his newspaper and did a slight double take when he saw the green teen peering up at him.

“Um, hi. How do I get to Shinjuku?”

The man cleared his throat. “Ee. Sumimasen. Eigo ga wakaranain desu, tasukete wo rigari naru na.”

Beast Boy nodded attentively the whole time the man was speaking. 

“Uh-huh...mmm-hmm...okay, thanks.”

The man tipped his hat, and Beast Boy nipped back to the group. “I… have no idea what he said,” he confessed. 

Raven facepalmed.

Cyborg put an arm in front of BB. “Let me handle this.”

He walked up to the same man, then spoke into his arm. “Excuse me sir, can you tell us how to get to Shinjuku district?”

Cyborg’s arm beeped, and then a tinny version of his voice emerged from a hidden speaker: [Sumimasen, Shinjuku chiku e no ikikata o oshiete itadakemasen ka.]

The man’s eyes widened. He leaned forward and spoke hesitantly into Cyborg’s arm like it was a mic. “Kyoo mo kootsuu ruuru wo mamoru yo.”

[I will obey all the traffic laws.]

Cyborg sighed. “Doumo arigatou,” he said. The crosswalk light turned green then, and the businessman hurried away.

“My new technology might still need some tweaking…” Cyborg admitted.

“It is okay, friends!” Starfire proclaimed. “We have Raven to translate for us.” She smiled at Raven.

“Um, Star… I don’t speak Japanese.”

“You do not?” Star was taken aback. This had never happened before. “Oh…” she said. “Then I guess, I will be the translator.” 

Raven was too embarrassed to notice the disappointment in Star’s voice.

Starfire looked around. There was an earthling boy with blue hair, more or less the same age as her friends, watching them from outside a cafe. She walked up to him.

“May I kiss you?” She asked, enunciating clearly. 

The boy stared up at her with wide, starry eyes and gulped. Starfire could visibly see the gesture, because the boy had what Beast Boy called an “atoms apple” and it bobbed down and back up. 

“Kiss kiss fall in love?” the boy asked breathily.

“No, just kiss,” Starfire said.

They stared at each other.

“Ou-kay,” said the boy.

Starfire leaned down and kissed him.

There was the familiar rush of a new language filling her lungs, but otherwise, it was not very pleasant. The taste of his mouth surprised her - it was tangy and salty. She’d grown to believe that all earthlings tasted like honey and green tea. 

She pulled away. 

[Please forgive me, I learn language through kissing. Could you tell me which way to Shinjuku district?]

The boy pointed. [That way.]

Starfire bowed. It seemed like the appropriate thing to do. “Doumo arigatou.”

“Daisuki.”

Starfire ignored that last comment and gestured to her team. “This way.”

She turned and started walking without checking to see if they would follow. She was eager to be away from the youth she had just kissed. The youth whom, she now realized, she hadn’t even asked for a name. It hadn’t been that bad of a kiss, really. It’s not like she had kissed Glgrdsklechhh. And yet, all nine of her stomachs were roiling all the same. She especially did not want to look at Raven right now. Would she be proud of her for remembering to ask permission first? Or would she be upset? Why did Starfire hope she would be upset?

Her thoughts were interrupted by screaming. 

“Nigeru! Taihen da! Kaibutsu ga densen o kitteru zo!”

The people around them suddenly began to point and run.

What are they saying?” asked Raven. Her voice was smoothly monotone, giving nothing away.

Starfire cleared her throat. "They are saying… ‘Run! The monster is attacking the power lines!’"

Robin whipped out his bo staff. “Titans! Go!”

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

Author's Note:

For plot related reasons, there are no English-speaking Japanese people or gaijin anywhere to be found lol. Also, for general readability, I am using romaji and English dialogue conventions for the Japanese dialogue. Also, Ouran High School Host Club is still popular right? Right?

First Chapter  |  Previous  |  Next  |  Read it on AO3  |  Read it on FFN  |  Read it and review? 🥺

[delilah-dust]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Teen Titans (Animated Series), Teen Titans - All Media Types, DCU Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Mal Duncan/Joseph Wilson Characters: Joseph Wilson, Mal Duncan, Jericho - Character, Herald - Character Additional Tags: Domestic Fluff, Early Mornings, Fluff, Domestic Boyfriends, Sharing a Bed, Mute Joseph Wilson, Morning Kisses, Cuddling & Snuggling, Sleep, Boyfriends, Short One Shot, Established Relationship, Teen Romance Summary:

There’s nothing great about Tuesdays. It’s not like Monday, the start of the laborious work week, or anything like Wednesday’s hump day motivation. It didn’t cause a sense of relief like Thursday as Friday strolled around the corner, closing the door behind and ending the dismal business hours which brought in the freedom of the weekend with anxious satisfaction.

It was just plain old boring Tuesday.

[alexandriaellisart]

bills

[zylev-blog]

A trope I don’t see often is Danny as Klarion and Nabu’s dad. Can you imagine your normal summoning au, the JL want help with Klarion. He’s out of control! He seperate d the kids and adults into seperate worlds, joined the Light, and is an overall pest. So they summon the Ghost King, expecting him to get rid of Klarion for them. But the JL has a big problem that they didn’t see beforehand. Not only will Danny not help the JL, he proclaims them as a team of Order and that the world needs more chaos. So he helps Klarion to be a pest, and causes chaos, the only way a Fenton can. This makes the JL super upset, but they can’t do a damn thing about it, because Danny is as powerful as God and can sense the JL/YJ/TT before they even get close to him and vanishes, to reappear on the other side of the world in the next second. Rinse and repeat.

[demonboi96]

Yknow what I want to see more of? Danny causually hanging out with the teen titans, playing video games with beastboy and cyborg, messing with Robin, reading with Raven and Interigating asking starfire questions about her home planet, space in general and about her peoples customs and cultures.

You can even get some fun shenagins in their like beast boy and Sam teaming up to try to turn Danny into a vegitarian or Raven being absoluting terrified of the eldtitch god king that even her father is wary of, or starfire challenging him to a race or arm wrestling competition. The sky is the limits.

[kazuko-stuff]

Mommy

Warning: just a crack idea based on the mommy meme

Wally: How do you feel of boys calling girls mommy

Dick: so if girls can us daddy

Roy: so why can’t we call each other daddy

Dick: No, mommy! You know what I meant

Wally: you can call me mommy anytime

Roy: I as well

Dick: Wally, you being mommy, in your dreams

Roy: and you think you can be daddy

Dick: I am the most handsome

*All three continuing chatting*

Y/n: hey guys, ready for smash bros

Dick: oh hey mommy

Y/n,Roy, Wally: ……

Y/N: WHAT!!!!

Dick: 😏

Y/N: Hey baby

Dick: 😳

[linkspooky]

CHAPTER FIVE OF MY TEEN TITANS SEASON SIX FANFIC UP ON AO3

In the space between dreams and reality, there floated Azarath Azarath was a world of shadows. There was no sun or moon, the only light came from the stars above them, or was made by their magic. It was night when it happened, but the night was meaningless when it was always twilight. [.... read more on AO3]

[evasive-anon]

How Dick found out Jason died was actually the fucking worst.

If you've read the New Teen Titans you know I'm bout pop off on Danny Chase. If any of you are fanon only people probably know Dick found out what happened when he got back from space with the Titans and how Bruce wasn't the one who told him- but what fanon leaves out is how the person who told Dick had ZERO FUCKIGN EMPATHY AND KEPT SAYIGN IT WAS NO BIG DEAL.

This little asshole is Danny, he's a kid with telekinetic powers on the Titans and he literally just walks up to Nightwing like 'Hey Dick, looks like you had a rough time on that mission, oh no so sorry your leg is broken, anyway just some minor news but pretty sure you're little brother is dead, NBD. 🙄'

Danny is really out here like 'who even cares its a dangerous job' while Dick is BREAKING DOWN.

DC, why the fuck you gotta highlight Jason being so short here?? You already killed him stop kicking him while he's down .😭

DANNY WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU SURPRISED

🤓 i jUSt dOn't LiKE beInG PuSHeD aRoUNd broooo omg 😒

Dick does fire Danny from the Titan this comic but honestly I really wish we got to see Dick beat the shit out of him here cause he deserved it.

ALSO THIS BITCH WAS SUPPOSED TO BE JASONS FRIEND HE CALLED HIM THE TODDSTER AND THEY FUCKIGN HUNG OUT

Anyway, side note- if you're wondering why Dick called Danny out about being afraid of his own blood being spilt is cause of this unforgettable scene:

[themoonlitsojourner]

Hey.

Hi.

It was

It was my birthday, yesterday.

I know, I know.

Feels crazy.

Doesn’t it?

Another one.

Feels like they’re

Catching up to me.

Or…

Something.

Aw, forget it.

Sorry.

Don’t know what I was trying to say.

I’m…

I’m twenty-one, now.

By the way.

Feels like…

Feels like it was yesterday

That I was thirteen.

Does it…

Do you ever think about…?

Anyway.

Thirteen to twenty-one.

That’s eight years, you know.

And I can think of a lot,

Eight things, easy,

That have

Changed.

I mean

It wasn’t overnight.

I probably make it sound

Like it was.

But it’s just…

We haven’t talked

In a while

And I know

It’s my fault.

I’m…

I’m sorry.

But

Uh…

But what I’m saying, is

Maybe you don’t know…

That I’m a whole foot taller.

(Vic’s still the better baller.)

Start fewer spats.

(With Raven, that is, the bad guys couldn’t give a crap.)

Made it to Mega Mech level 203.

(Then the GameStation gave out and I had to stop.)

Starred in a commercial for Sunny D.

(Don’t laugh! You’ve gotta start somewhere to get to the top.)

…

Inhale.

…

Finally got the moped.

(Wonder what that button does?)

New haircut.

(High fade, lightning bolt buzz.)

Adopted a mutt.

(He’s a companion, Vic, not a pet.)

Another city.

(Hollywo-- Almost. Not yet.)

Tomorrow.

But today?

I’m here.

…I’m here.

With yesterday’s mud– squelching under my sneakers.

Rain aftertaste– lingering on my tongue.

Damp chill– wetting shivering skin.

Dim cave– blocking out the sun.

It doesn’t seem fair

Does it?

That I get to choose

Where I call my own

And you

Don’t.

Anyway.

Some things

Change.

Some things change

A lot.

Way before

You want them to.

And some things…

Never do.

Like…

Your laugh

Unguarded song

Rewarding every dumb joke

That comes along.

Your voice

In the car

As the radio blares,

Jamming like a rockstar.

Your arms

Around me

After I’ve made

A promise.

Our fingers

Intertwined

When I leaned in

For a kiss.

…

Exhale.

…

Your…

Your smile

Covering a lifetime

Of pain.

Your fear

Wondering if I’ll leave you

Just the same.

Hasty lies

Leading to a choice

You couldn’t make.

An outstretched hand

I

Didn’t take.

And I’m sorry

Don’t mean to be a downer

I thought I was ready

But now that I’m here…

Because there’s unforgiving rock– harsh beneath my knees.

And old tears– drying on my cheeks.

A lonesome statue– cold against my forehead.

A pulseless hand– I wish, I wish I would have said…

The choice

Is yours.

It always was.

You decide

Who you’ll be.

And no else, because

You are you.

Can’t change that

No matter what anyone does.

(And I

Would never want you to.

Not that it matters

Anymore.)

I should have told you

So much

When I could.

Before I left you

With cutting, stupid words.

Without a touch.

We were just kids, you know?

We were just children.

I understand, now.

I’m sorry that I didn’t

Then.

But now…

Now what’s the use?

Now it’s over.

Now I lost my chance.

And now, you will never–

Never…

You will never

Help me find

The perfect sunset spot

On the boulevard, where we can sit

Hand in hand and talk.

Never

Decorate our new place

With night-brite stars

Lie awake till dawn

And listen to the passing cars.

Not even

Hear me answer the phone

With shaking hands and whisper yes.

Spin around the room with me

After I hang up, until we’re breathless.

(And I

Don’t even know

If you would want to.

Is it selfish

That that’s

The worst part?)

…

you will never know

how much we loved you

or the scarred emptiness

carved out by your absence

You

Will never

Change.

I…

Already have.

I am twenty-one.

You are forever thirteen.

You were two months older, two inches taller.

I’m… Well, now you look so much smaller.

(Four hours

until I board the plane

and I am already

so far from you.)

But I will keep

Your name

My tongue remembers

The shape.

I think

–youthfully, foolishly–

That it once belonged

To my soulmate.

I will store your smile

In my pocket.

A blurry Polaroid

Corners worn round

Under lonely fingers

And frayed.

If I

Hide you

In the hollow

Of my regretful

Heart,

Maybe I

Will never

Have to leave you

Behind.

(Any more

Than I already have.

I am so sorry.

Just like my words

On that horrible night

I didn’t mean it.)

So this isn’t

Goodbye

Me standing here,

Suitcase in hand.

It’s just…

…

Just…

(I wish you would wake up.

I wish you would shake off the stone and time

To breathe and laugh and run with me through that door.

I wish this was a dream.

I wish you were fine.

I wish you wanted to live a little more.)

Terra.

I’m sorry.

I loved you.

…

Goodbye.

[the-lighthouse-lit]

The Club of Unauthorized Heroes - Year 2

Fandom: Teen Titans

Pairings: BBxRae, BBxTer, RobxStar, CyxBee

Rating: T

Summary: The ambiguously-named Project Club of Murakami High has established themselves as not-so-secret superheroes for hire. But while the team navigates the pressure of being out in the open and worries that their stint of big missions was just a fluke, a new threat set out to dismantle everything they’ve worked for brews right underneath their noses. [High School AU]

───

Chapter 17: February. Terra is in this one p.2

Preview:

Blood said, “I’ve received your file from your last school—or, I should say, schools. I’d warn you that troublemakers aren’t tolerated in this fine institution.”

Color rose to Terra’s cheeks. “They… they just told you-! We just proved to you they targeted me just because I’m new! This wasn’t me!”

“Please mind your tone,” Blood sentenced. “Nothing happens without a reason, Miss Markov. I would suggest you take steps to not be the sort of person who gets targeted.” Gar was scared she was going to cry, or lunge at Blood; but in the end she stalked off, nearly trampling on Gar on her way out of the office.

Read:   On AO3 On FF.Net