#teen titans ficlet

[dionysia-does-stories]

The Competition of Sisterhood

On AO3

Rating G - 508 words - Teen Titans - Starfire Ficlet

Summary: Starfire contemplating how Blackfire's personality and approach to sisterhood influenced her life.

Story:

Earth media loved stories about caring but beleaguered older siblings. They would ride to the rescue of their younger helpless family members. They possessed some of the intoxicating authority that parents did, but tempered by the sarcastic irresponsibility of other children. They were like partners in crime that would help you pull off the heist. But when things went south they were guaranteed to sell you out to the cops.

Starfire couldn’t get enough of it. The sitcom families with their sitcom older siblings. Robin said the stories were dull and predictable. He preferred the dark gritty dramas where everyone’s younger sibling was a serial killer. To be fair, his younger siblings could be difficult.

Growing up, Starfire often wondered if she was difficult. It would explain why Blackfire was angry with her all the time. Even in the tender ignorance of youth Star had gotten the impression that Blackfire thought of her as a defective toy. Not even worth playing with. Star had tried everything she could think of to be what her sister wanted. To cater to her anger and annoyance. 

It wasn’t until Star joined the Titans that realization trickled in. There was no way to please Blackfire because her enjoyment came from her perceived suffering. Blackfire defined herself as older, mature, and important. Star had to in contrast to be young, clumsy, and insignificant. Anything Blackfire was had to be better than Starfire. Sisterhood was a competition. Blackfire didn’t care if she won as long as Star lost.

Robin could keep his washed out grey shows that portrayed the world ten times worse than life on Earth actually was (even Gotham was less grim). Adverts boasted that the dramas were “realistic” and “unflinching”. But none of the characters ever sat down to have pizza with friends. They never let the brutality of their experiences relax from their muscles. They never let themselves be enough, be content. The dramas wallowed in their characters perceived suffering just like Blackfire. Star refused to believe that was the shape of the world. Star chose to be hopeful. Star chose to be kind

Sometimes she wondered how much of her personality was built around spiting her sister. You did not end up with one sister being a ray of sunshine and the other an exploding supernova by accident. Was Star so cheerful because it made Blackfire maudlin? Was Star so accepting because it made Blackfire repulsive? Star worried that her personality had been honed by the same sibling competition that had denied her the familial closeness she craved.

Star’s years with the Titans had taught her to like herself. She kindled the hope in her heart that this was who she was always going to be. Star chose to believe in her own intrinsic kindness. She fought for those that needed help. She cared for those that needed love. She always would have been this person. She always would have found her wonderful Earth family. Her life wasn’t about winning, it was about being happy. It wasn’t a competition. 

[hana-no-seiiki]

the yearning for damian wayne has gone to unhealthy levels.

ive always had a crush on robin, but mostly the Teen Titans one (so Dick Grayson) but Nightwing and his slut behavior never really appealed to me and I realized that I was a masochist and liked mean! robin and Damian Wayne is all that and more.

anyways have this ficlet based on my new friend: divorce (that’s her literal nickname)

tw/cw: reader is a genius. but is a creep. damian is into that.

YAN! DAMIAN WAYNE x STARK! READER : “SECTION FOUR”

“If you scroll to section three, that is a list of injuries or poison you’ve sustained in battle for the past 6 years or so.”

Damian followed your words dutifully. Scrolling through the essay your AI had once leaked to him in an effort to get you to actually work instead of eating your nth tub of ice cream while crying over your boyfriend being on another patrol team.

“Accompanying it should be a list of cures. Most of them were already invented but if there wasn’t any I made one.”

“Mx. [Y/N] spent a whole week trying to figure out how to dispel the strand of sex pollen Lady Ivy makes.” S.P.A.R.K. the AI that kept leaking your info in question piped up, “Only to then realized they could just—“

“Unto the next section.” You interrupted them. Considering the possibility of shutting them permanently at this point.

“Wait pause. You could just what, beloved?” Damian thanked the AI in his mind. It was the reason for many of his revelations about your character. You see, he thought he was mentally ill until he saw the debauchery you were up to. One of such acts being the article you were showing him now. You almost surpassed Tim’s … thorough nature. Almost.

“The next section is about your penis size and the dildos I made trying to replicate it.”

“Nevermind, go on my love.”

[clockwayswrites]

Prompt set 5... I think.

This migraine is going to be the death of me. I've had it since Monday. Really in a 'don't want to exist' mood. So much for writing anything that needs concentration today. So, prompt ficlets it is! Because I really can't spend any more of today trying to sleep it off or I'll lose what sanity I have left.

"Other" Danny Prompts

CLOSED

One per person please. In a REPLY, tell me:

A ship from the list of Danny*: /Jason, /Dick, /Wally, /Duke, &/Constantine, &Alfred, &batfam member(s), &Justice League member(s), &(teen)Titans members(s), &Gotham

A color* of the rainbow: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet

An scent/smell

*Colors meanings have changed since last time

** & is gen only, / is ship only, &/ is ship or gen- pick either

Please make sure to read the options before submitting! If it's not on the ship list or one of the 6 colors I'll just pass it over.

[jamgrlsblog]

My The Owl House fanfiction and associated art master post! Word counts are rounded.

Concerts and Curses Series (young Raeda & Owl Lady origins)

A Private Concert (T, 9k): Eda POV, pre-curse, getting together; when Raine gets stage fright and doesn’t finish performing a solo, they perform it for just Eda instead (cuteness abounds)

A Not-Date

Excerpt 1-page Comic (original); Excerpt 1-page Comic (redone speech bubbles and bonus original sketchbook page)

Moments

Never Been Cursed (T, 18k): Eda POV, post-curse, established relationship; Eda strikes it out on her own and tries to navigate how Raine can still fit into her life (teen hormones abound)

(4-page excerpt comic in progress!)

A New Key (T, 14k): Raine POV, young adult, established relationship; Raine getting a palisman forces them to think about what they want (tender but fraught YA Raeda)

Watching crystal ball

Camilraeda

Three’s A Match??? (M, unfinished): Camila POV, getting together with Raeda after matching on a dating app

Matched

Raeda one-shots

Lovestuck (T, 2k): Raine POV, Raine remembers Eda talking to them when they were a puppet

Some Interrogation (E, 5k): Eda POV, missing scene in “O Titan, Where Art Thou”, when Raine captures Eda, feelings are spilled (and they have sex in an interrogation room 😂)

Holiday fics

Solstice Night (G, 6k): Eda POV vignettes of her experiences of the BI winter solstice traditions (5 times Eda didn’t cry on Solstice Night + 1 time she did)

Solstice Cookies

Noche de Reyes (T, 4k): Camila POV, Camila recruits Eda to help leave presents for the kids as the Three Kings (Latin American Christmas holiday)

500-word Ficlets

Touch-Starved (T): Eda feels the physical effects of loneliness (pre-canon)

Crusher (T): Follow-up to Touch-Starved, Eda asks Raine to cuddle with her (post-canon)

The Ask (G): It’s the time of year where teen witches ask each other to a special event… (Young Raeda)

Gromposal!

**to be updated as new works are posted**

[tsarisfanfiction]

#5 (Sing A Song of Seven)

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians Rating: Teen Genre: Family, Angst Character: Michael Yew A series of Cabin Seven oneshots.  This time: There's a spy in camp. Finally my muses have decided to write something again! This chapter draws a little from mine and @stereden's fic Lie to Me, although reading that fic isn't necessary to understand this one (but I will still encourage people to go listen to Stereden's recording of it!). At some point these ficlets will stop being Michael-centric but for now that's clearly not happening. Reminder that there’s now a discord server for all my fics, including this one!  If you wanna chat with me or with other readers about stuff I write (or just be social in general), hop on over and say hi! <<#4

The realisations creep up on Michael slowly, as he leaves the meeting.

The revelation of a spy horrifies him while making too much fucking sense, because Beckendorf is dead, because Kronos’ army knew he and Percy were coming and made the whole thing a fucking trap that Beckendorf sprung to make sure they didn’t lose Percy, because losing Percy meant losing the whole war and they all knew that.

Of course there was a fucking spy in their camp, someone that Michael couldn’t trust because they were feeding information to Kronos and getting them – not just them, but certain, lynchpin, demigods – killed off one by one.  Of course there was, because why wouldn’t there be?  Enough demigods were traitors that why wouldn’t there be more pretending that they weren’t, hiding in plain sight and causing the most damage?

Michael’s angry about it, can feel his temper churning under his skin and making small bids for freedom that he can’t quite stop, has never been able to stop by himself and now Lee’s not here to help him stop it, diffuse it in a way that doesn’t have consequences.

Lee’s not here because he’s dead and the gaping hole torn through his heart hasn’t even started to heal yet, even though Michael has to pretend it has, that the grief isn’t still raw and playing havoc with his self-control, because he’s in charge, now, and that means younger siblings that need someone strong to hold them together are looking to him.

Lee’s not here because he’s dead and this time the thought sparks something else, something else that then ignites the inferno of Michael’s ever-simmering rage because how fucking dare Luke.

There’s a spy in the camp, and spies are liars.  They say all the right things at all the right times, but they don’t mean a word of it because they believe the wrong fucking things, that the gods are worse than Kronos, that the gods need to fall for demigods to survive.  They don’t mean a word of it and that means they’re liars and if Lee was still here, he’d have noticed.

Lee isn’t here, because he’s fucking dead.  Because he was killed, in a fucking battle that happened inside the safety of camp, where it was never supposed to reach, and because Lee’s not here to spot liars, Beckendorf is dead.  More of them will die, too, because Michael isn’t naïve and this feels like a start, except maybe it’s not because they lost two head counsellors last summer, lost Lee last summer, so maybe this is a continuation.

Lee’s not here to spot liars and Michael knows that very few people knew what Lee could sense, because Lee was always so careful not to let on, but he also knows that one of the people that did know was fucking Luke.  Luke, who works for Kronos, who leads the demigod faction of the titan’s fucking army, who is probably the spy’s handler because they’re a fucking demigod, too.

Lee got killed last summer but that’s not right, because Lee was murdered last summer, before the war kicked up a notch and sabotage missions started and got sabotaged.  Before the spy started passing information.

Luke needed Lee out of the way so that he could have a fucking spy.

The list of people that Michael hates is a short one.  There are many people that annoy him, and more he dislikes.  There are even people he can’t fucking stand.  But hate is something different, something visceral, and for most of his life it’s been succinctly headed by the bastard his mom married.

Luke had wriggled his way onto the bottom of the list, somewhere between can’t stand and hate, years ago, when Michael had inexplicably woken up in the middle of the night in a way he never does to hear Lee sobbing into his pillow, broken from Luke’s fucking betrayal.

Michael is well aware that Lee would never have told him about his truth-sensing if it wasn’t for that night, when he’d been torn wide open by Luke demonstrating how much of a piece of shit he was.

Now, with the realisation that Luke must have wanted Lee out of the way so he could get on with killing the rest of them off via sabotage and other ways of Hermes fucking nonsense, he’s catapulted himself straight to the top of the fucking list and Michael’s certain he’ll stay there until he dies, at least.

Michael already wasn’t calm, not after arguing with Clarisse again, but the realisations have made his temper worse and he can’t just turn it off, not without Lee’s help.  All he can do is channel it, try to minimise the casualties, because he can’t explode on his siblings.  He just can’t.

Clarisse isn’t on his hate list, despite what most people think, but she is on his can’t fucking stand list and right now, with her bullshit over the fucking chariot, that’s close enough.  His temper has to go somewhere and with its primary target out of fucking reach, wherever Luke’s hiding like the bastard he is – and his spy sneaking around with lies that Michael can’t see through, because he’s not Lee, could never be Lee – Clarisse makes a good enough secondary target.

He knows she can’t be the spy; Clarisse spying on anyone is laughable, she’s not got a subtle bone in her fucking body.  But it doesn’t matter, because Michael is pissed and his rage has to go somewhere.

It’s not like she doesn’t fucking deserve it anyway.

[darkmasterofcupcakes]

Taking a bit of inspiration from my friend @mandareeboo I was thinking of rewatching Kim Possible and Teen Titans soon, and for each episode just posting a little something? Either a short ficlet of some kind, or a oneshot.

Only thing I haven't decided is which show to start with, and since I'm open to either, I'll let you guys decide:

[circus-clown-calvary]

I can’t stop thinking about this damn fic in my brain

Part of me want to combine the DC animated movie (TT vs JL and the young blood movie and maybe also the most recent one that I only watched once bc it hurt my heart) and the og CartoonNetwork Teen Titans show to make a sensible timeline between the two mediums so that I can satisfy the itch in my brain.

Part of me wants to make this it’s own little Au ficlet collection of oneshots but I only ever write oneshots and I want to expand and write a chaptered fic that (at least kinda) follows a timeline. That part of me also wants it to be a Danny Phantom crossover bc that’s also taking over my brain.

I think I’ll just do both with the same starter timeline and fucking and ball. I like the move time line better so maybe I’ll just kinda put the movie characters in the show setting and kinda go from there. Add night wing and make Star older, instead of the other team mates that aren’t in the show will just get replaced with the Phantom Trio (for the soul reason being that I know cry little of other titans who weren’t key players in the original show bc I found my thing and stuck with it lol)

It’ll be my little passion project for now. Very few people will probably read it so I can fuck around and find out as much as I want lol. Sometimes it’ll be chapters and sometimes it’ll be oneshots.

[zeroducks-2]

Hiii! Im new to dc fandom and I found your account while I was searching for sladick content, and I like what you have written about them! So i wanted to ask whether you know or have metas about dick including any of his ships? Especially sladick, brudick, or jaydick :D Thank you! (Also sorry if this sounds weird, english is not my native language)

Hello anon! You don't sound weird at all and even if you did I most likely wouldn't notice, I'm not a native english speaker either :)

I normally write meta-posts upon request, so feel free to send any my way if you want to read a specific analysis on something. My favorite metas are regarding Dick's "Renegade arc", in which he takes up another name and works under Slade for a time (you can find it here), and a long post discussing Slade from Teen Titans 2003 and how the writers of the show coded him (which you can find here if you're interested).

More generally, if you search the tags "Sladick", "Jaydick" and "Brudick" on my blog you're going to find fanarts (mine and other artists'), smaller metas about the relationships and bits of writings and ficlets :) If you find links to my fics on AO3 please don't click on them for now, the website is still under DDoS attack and refreshing the pages adds strain to it.

Again, feel free to directly ask if you want me to discuss a specific topic, it'd be a pleasure ♥

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

On the Fourth Day of Christmas the DCU Sent to Me Four Solstice Women

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/6BsORDL by aestorian “You know what would be a great way to celebrate the solstice?” Steph buzzes with an excitement that Diana has learnt to fear. Steph doesn't seem to notice how the people around her step back. “Sacrifice the guys! Burn down the patriarchy!” -- In which Diana, Donna, Cassie and Lizzie invite their friends around to celebrate the solstice with them Words: 1486, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 4 of For Christmas the DCU Sent to Me, Part 5 of Batfam fics Fandoms: DCU (Comics), DCU, Wonder Woman - All Media Types, Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types, The Flash - All Media Types, Young Justice - All Media Types, Teen Titans - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Diana (Wonder Woman), Donna Troy, Cassie Sandsmark, Lizzie Marston Prince, Lois Lane, Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Iris West, Barry Allen, Dinah Lance, Oliver Queen, Wally West, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Bart Allen, Kon-El | Conner Kent, Cissie King-Jones, Jonathan Kent, Duke Thomas, Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Batfamily Members, Superfamily Members (DCU), Wonder Family Members (DCU) Relationships: Diana (Wonder Woman) & Donna Troy, Diana (Wonder Woman) & Cassie Sandsmark, Diana (Wonder Woman) & Lizzie Prince, Cassie Sandsmark & Donna Troy, Dick Grayson & Donna Troy, Dick Grayson/Wally West, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Bart Allen/Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent/Cassie Sandsmark, Bart Allen & Tim Drake & Cissie King-Jones & Kon-El | Conner Kent & Cassie Sandsmark, Jonathan Samuel Kent & Damian Wayne, Lizzie Marston Prince & Damian Wayne Additional Tags: Crack Treated Seriously, Crack, Fluff and Crack, Fluff, Found Family, Winter Solstice, Feral Batfamily (DCU), One Shot, Ficlet, Cassandra Cain for Batman, Heir of Batman Cassandra Cain, Amused Diana Prince, Good Parent Diana (Wonder Woman) read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/6BsORDL

[ao3feed-jaydick]

A Collection of Deleted Scenes involving Renegade!Dick

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/50343595 by sarriathmg Random short scenes that either didn't fit into the main fic/series or might've happened in alternated universes. Deleted scenes, missing scenes, or scenes that I might take and expand into full chapters/one-shots in the future. This was originally posted in 简体中文 but it's now translated as per a Tumblr request. IDK how often I'm going to update it. Words: 780, Chapters: 3/?, Language: English Series: Part 30 of Dick Grayson as Renegade AU Fandoms: Teen Titans (Animated Series), Batman (Comics) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M, Gen, M/M Characters: Dick Grayson, Koriand'r (DCU), Slade Wilson, Tara Markov Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Slade Wilson, Various Side Parings Additional Tags: Dick Grayson is Renegade, Introspection, Ficlet Collection, Dark Dick Grayson, Character Study, Angst, Fluff, Tragedy, Shorts, Deleted Scenes, Missing Scene, Alpha Dick Grayson, Translation read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/50343595

[dionysia-does-stories]

The Inescapable Library - Chapter 1

On AO3

Rating T - 1,183 words - Teen Titans - Starfire Ficlet

Summary: Post The Kiss, Crowley is an emotional wreck but when he discovers that Muriel is clearing out Aziraphale's bookshop he is determined to find out where the books are going. He finds himself trapped in Aziraphale's Inescapable Library subject to the most dangerous thing imaginable, an angel with good intentions.

Story:

How many times had Crowley heard a drunk at a bar slosh over to some long suffering woman and say, “When did you fall from heaven?”

Crowley had fallen. He’d felt the rush of divine grace as it turned to sharp knives on his skin. He remembered the feeling of God’s wraith. She’d wanted him to suffer, to hurt, to lose. A gravity like he’d never experienced slammed into his body. The force of it was too strong for even his wings to fight against. He’d rocketed down, down, down. Away, away, away.

He’d landed somewhere that never existed before. A new place that was made just for him. Hell. The answer to a question he should never have asked.

No one tried to pick him up in bars. Not with cheesy one-liners about heaven anyway. If someone ever had then he would have told them the truth about when he fell about the windburn so strong in his memory that he felt it even now. He wanted to see the beauty in falling. The attraction of the devilish that humans seemed to operate under.

He wanted to spend his eternity saying cheesy one-liners to Aziraphale.

Aziraphale’s betrayal had been worse than the fall. Worse then the gravity. Worse then the ripping away of all things divine and familiar. Hell was a place made just for Crowley and it could hold no competition for the tortures of his own mind.

He had kissed Aziraphale. He had done it because he loved him. And because he hated him in the way that you can only hate something precious. And because he was scared that they would never seen each other again. Not as friends anyway. He had stopped the apocalypse the first time round, but this one he hadn’t even seen coming.

It was a quiet apocalypse with socks on its feet. No plagues besetting your homeland. No horseman jangling their stirrups all the way to prophecy. No. This apocalypse was like wool socks on a country floor in winter. It felt like the whole world was still with sunlight and frost as the rapture slid through unnoticed. Crowley walked into his last conversation with Aziraphale thinking it was Christmas morning only to discover that the world had ended while he wasn’t even looking.

So, he kissed. Then he left. Then he got in his car. Crowley drove for a long time with no destination. The only place he wanted to be was away. But where do you go to isolate from God and her archangels. All existence and non-existence matter and anti-matter were made of her being, were dominion to the job Aziraphale chose over him. Crowley wished for the archaic punishment of being torn sunder from God. He wanted to be broken open. Broken apart. He already was.

He drove and he thought. Days passed without delineation. He drove to Tadfield and circled aimlessly for a while. When he found no solace or purpose, he drove onward. He drove through rolling hills, sprawling cities. Braying sheep blocked his path. Fragile humans admired the Bentley. All was as it ever had been. The world didn’t even seem to know that it had ended. It carried on with the same shuddering enthusiasm that had compelled it through the millennia. Crowley drove back to London.

He pulled into the carpark for his old flat. The Bentley’s engine cut out with a whine. The plants wilted in the back seat. Everything he loved in the world was now in this one parking space. That was a madness that defied comprehension. To discover that his love was so small.

He decided that he would go back to the bookshop. He wasn’t sure what he would do there. Maybe he would burn it down on purpose. Maybe he would sit quietly somewhere and read his favorite volume. All he knew was that if everywhere in the universe was going to be miserable, then he would like to be miserable somewhere familiar. 

When he got to the shop, there were moving trucks out front. Great yellow beasts with stupid slogans, being filled to the brim with Aziraphale’s books. A rage took Crowley over as he charged into the shop to track down what fiend would destroy the archangel’s home.

There was no being in the entire building but the cheerful, nervous angel. Marjorie? No, Muriel. They were no longer in their officer costume. They wore a white cable knit jumper and beige tweed pants. They looked almost human.

They waved to Crowley, pleased to see a familiar face regardless of the familiar rage that darkened it.

“Hey, you,” They said.

“It’s only been a few days,” Crowley’s voice was accusatory. “How have you sorted out pretending to be human?”

Muriel held a clipboard close to them. “It’s been months, Mr. Crowley.”

That couldn’t be right.

“It is, though.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Crowley defended himself.

Their eyes were dripping with pity and Crowley hated it.

“You can’t take his books.”

Muriel’s smile was sympathetic. She reached out a hand to touch his forearm. “Archangel Aziraphale has given orders for the books to be moved.”

“Bollocks.”

Muriel had learned the trick to lying. All you had to do was tell yourself that you were doing it for the right reasons. A month, a year, a millennia ago—Muriel had been a normal angel. A being who told the truth and expected honesty and kindness in return. Perhaps Earth had changed them. They did more in a single minute on Earth then they would have during a century in Heaven. 

Mortal life was rich with experience. There was so much of it that humans complained about the type of experience they were subject to. “Oh, that hurts.” and “No, not that movie, it’s sad.” Humans wanted everything to feel good. They had no idea what a miracle it was to feel at all. 

Muriel could admit that they became jealous of the humans. It gave new context to the war between the angels. They understood—just a little bit—why they were mad at God. She had cheated them of rich full lives. She had made them to serve and that is what they did.

Today, Muriel’s service was to lie.

“I wish I could tell you more, Mr. Crowley.” The next part was the tough bit. She had to make it sound natural. “But I have strict instructions not to let you know where these books are going.”

“His instructions?” Crowley condemned them.

Muriel had him on the line. Now all she had to do was reel him in. “That’s not any of your concern anymore.” She could see him struggle, flopping around against the force of her deception. “These trucks are leaving at 8 pm tonight and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

Crowley smirked. “I guess I’ll just give up then.”

Crowley sauntered out of the bookstore. He was so preoccupied by the plan forming in his mind that he didn’t notice Muriel’s eyes follow him out. They had to warn The Library to expect him.

[im-a-ramblr]

Masterlist of writing

ON TUMBLR ONLY

Dialogue prompt:

Alcatraz v The Evil Librarians

Stormlight

Pride and Prejudice

Teen Titans

Stormlight Ficlets

Poison

Shallan and Dalinar

Kaladin/Leshwi/Moash

ON BOTH AO3 AND TUMBLR

All of Flufftober 2022

The first two | chapters of Linked Universe Ficlets

My AO3

Max Seel One shots ||| (Loosely complete aka marked as done but might still update)

Storms Clash ||| (Complete)

Slice of Lifes and Crabcakes ||| (Semi-permanent hiatus) 

I Will Find You; No Matter What ||| (Semi-permanent hiatus)  

Linked Universe Ficlets ||| (Will be marked [loosely]completed when I’m done with the last few request)

Having a Great Time at the Ball You Have to Attend ||| (hiatus)Old fashioned Greeting ||| 

(Complete) Twitter Ascension ||| (Loosely complete)

Flufftober 2022 days 1-3 ||| (Will do the rest at a later date)

my own personal version of love ||| (Incomplete)

Cuddles Cure Curses ||| (Part two is about to be uploaded) 

[the-lighthouse-lit]

Over | Again

Teen titans fanfic | BBxRae

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

───

Chapter 1: Dude (3,833 words)

She wouldn’t have come if she’d known they would be here.

Rachel looked to her right, past the bar she sat to, across the room, to a table in the dining area. Garfield Logan and half the girls from their class, being the rambunctious table every waitress hated.

All Rachel had wanted was a milkshake from her favorite diner. She’d already placed her order by the time she’d seen her classmates, and now she had to sit here and hope she wouldn’t be spotted.

Just as she snuck a glance, Gar threw his head back and laughed, and the edges of his eyes scrunched up, and her heart skipped a beat. She tore her eyes away. Time slowed down when she looked at Gar—she had to be careful not to stare.

Rachel Roch had many secrets. But the weirdest, most unthinkable one, the one she kept guarded like an ancient, reality-breaking sacred artifact, was that she was in love with Gar Logan, Murakami High’s sweetheart.

She pushed her cropped hair behind her ear, feeling for her earrings as was now her habit, and sipped her drink methodically at regular intervals, self-conscious as she only got when Gar was nearby.

After a while, she eyed the group again and, sure enough, Kitty Moth was still all over Gar. Rachel looked away.

It was sick fascination at this point. Why did she keep putting herself through this? Watching the boy she liked be surrounded by girls who threw themselves at him because they loved the idea of having a rich boyfriend. And Gar was oblivious to it—or else he was too nice to do anything about it. A teenage movie star who’d grown up as an heir to a multimillion dollar company, and none of it had managed to make him an asshole. If she strained her ear she could hear them now, trying to wrangle entry to Steve Dayton’s latest party. None of those girls seemed to ever notice Gar got uncomfortable when his-step dad was mentioned—none of them seemed to even notice Gar referred to him as ‘step-dad’.

And what was the good of Rachel noticing, anyway? It wasn’t like she ever talked to him. In fact, everyone thought she quite hated him, including Gar himself. She’d heard from Kori who’d heard from Toni Monetti who’d heard from Garth Rivers who’d heard from Kole Weathers who’d heard from Victor Stone that Gar had been asking Dick Grayson why Rachel Roth disliked him so much, he’d been her friend since preschool, he would know.

Even Kori herself has asked her why she hated Garfield after that. If her best friend couldn’t tell the truth, Rachel’s secret was completely safe.

Out of the corner of her eyes, Rachel saw Gar get up. With dread burning in the pit of her stomach, she realized he was coming over here.

Her gaze fixed on her milkshake and she couldn’t muster it up, even when she willed herself to. She paid for it when he had to lay a hand on her shoulder to get her attention.

“Hey. Dude,” he said, in the nervous tone of someone who didn’t know if they were getting a response.

Why did Gar put himself through talking to her? It couldn’t have been a pleasant experience for him. He was just the type of boy who’d refuse to ignore a person he knew in a public setting. Damn him.

“Hey,” she stated. The word sounded defeated even to her own ears.

He had a hand on the counter. His green shirt hung off his slight, slender frame, and matched his green eyes. Blonde hair fell over a freckle-splattered suntanned face. His easy, boyish smile disarmed her, as always. “Why didn’t you come join us?”

Her eyebrow creased, incredulity making it through her stony façade. ‘Us’ was Kitty Moth and her lackeys. The self-appointed popular girls of Murakami High. Girls who, when they decided to acknowledge her existence, did it by shoulder-checking her in the hallway, or pinching their noses when she passed by in the locker room. Rachel didn’t care about any of it; she was considerably more offended that Gar thought she would go play nice with them. Leave it to boys to not notice the makeup of their own social circles, Rachel guessed.

“I’m not friends with those girls,” she said. His eyebrows creased upwards in mild panic, and she kicked herself. He had likely taken her to mean he was included in that group, or else why would she be refusing his invitation?

He still took a seat next to her, and she marveled at how sweet he was. He was determined to spend an allotted amount of time with her, when he could have perfectly ignored her, like she ignored him; and he would surely keep saying hello in school even as she did her best to steer clear of him, and talk to her when they ended up in the same lunch table or study group. How was she ever gonna get over him if he kept being so adorable?

A waiter promptly came over, because everybody at every place Gar went to took good care of their most important patron. “Will you want your food brought here?” he asked Gar.

“Uh, no, I’m over there,” Gar said, pointing at his actual table.

Rachel thought he would leave then. But when the waiter left he asked her, “Did you do the Philosophy homework? I lost my whole night to that.”

And it made her want to die. Homework. He was talking to her about homework. She would listen to him read out a calendar—that wasn’t the point. The point was that she’d made herself so unknowable to him, all he had to go on was the fact that they went to the same school.

“I haven’t done the homework,” she said.

And even though her tone was decidedly uninviting, her saying anything seemed to spur him, and he went on to talk about how much he hated that Hobbes guy.

She let him talk, slowly rotating her glass on the bar—the more Gar stayed, the more her stomach did cartwheels, and the less likely she’d ever finish her damn milkshake. All she could think was this was probably the most boring conversation he’d had all day, and that thought immobilized her and kept her from talking—it was a vicious cycle. Her eyes glared straight ahead, and she counted down the seconds until the time for being nice to the standoffish girl ran out in his mind, so he could go back to his world.

This was why people thought she hated him. She was always angry when she was around him: angry at how her back would get stiff and unmoving, her mind would blank over sixteen years of acquired social skills, and she couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact. Her anger at herself showed up on her face and communicated to him that she hated his guts for no reason.

She liked him. But she hated being around him. Because when it came to him, she saw so much, knew so much, felt so much, and when he was next to her, their interactions were stuck in shallow, uninspiring small talk between her unyielding coldness and his relentless friendliness, and she was forced to realize he saw nothing, knew nothing, and felt nothing about her.

When he came near he shattered the reality where she could just love him from afar. She’d much rather he just stayed away.

The tell-tale buzz of the communicator on her left pocket came to shuffle her priorities.

Trouble.

Her back straightened, her mind cleared, and she swiftly took out her wallet and left the money for her drink on the counter.

“I just remembered I had to be home by—now,” she stated, realizing she had no idea what time it was towards the end of her excuse.

Coincidentally, Gar had also gotten up. “Oh! I-I think I left my front door open.”

They two stepped away and snuck out of the diner, never seeing through the other’s bad excuses.

───

Moments later, Raven flew into the scene. The trouble was a ten-foot creature—a glowing white heap of vaguely humanoid goo, currently rampaging what had been the east wing of STAR Labs.

When the monster saw her, it growled at her, its body shook and shot goblets of its form towards her. She dodged the attack, levitated several of the wooden crates around her and hurled them at the creature.

They went straight through it; the creature seemed to stagger and regard the new holes on its chest, before they filled in. It roared; this had only seemed to make it angrier.

Okay, then. This would need a bit more effort.

Raven concentrated, pulling everything she’d recently and very speedily learned about her new powers to wrap them around the creature and push it down. Her focus broke when she was grabbed from behind; she looked down to see the same white slime the monster was made of. It must have split its form to seize her, and now the rest of the creature advanced towards her.

Alright, so it had a brain in there.

Raven didn’t struggle physically: she went still and tapped into her powers to get free—when the creature was struck by a green flash. The monster staggered, and the fragment holding Raven dissolved. A green cheetah turned into a green rhino and struck the creature, which receded, and fell as a pool of goo with a final fading shriek.

“Anyone called for a hero?” the green boy quipped as he morphed back to human. He made a point to push his wild green hair back and strike a pose as he stood.

“Beast Boy,” Raven greeted, dusting herself off. She let a small smile play on her lips as he sauntered over to her.

“Raven,” he replied. Masked gaze met masked gaze. His shamelessly eyed her up and down. “Looking as good as ever.”

Behind him, the goo became monster again. A warning died on her lips as he got into action, turning into a gorilla to repel the slime limb that had shot out towards him.

They both took to the air, Raven levitating and Beast Boy taking the form of a pterodactyl.

“I was wondering if you would show up,” Raven said as she shot blows of dark energy towards the monster.

“Aw, you missed me,” said Beast Boy between hitting the creature with his hind legs.

“More like I was asking myself if I could expect you to do your job.”

“You know you can count on me,” was the last thing he said before he dove into the creature—and came out on the other side, covered in goo.

“Yeah. That doesn’t work,” said Raven, landing beside him.

He had turned back to human to stare in horror at his dripping hands. “Thanks for warning me.”

While they regrouped, the monster seemed to forget them and continued to tear through the crates around them. This seemed to have been a STAR Labs’ depository.

“What’s that thing, Rae-Rae?”

“I don’t know. And don’t call me that.” But she’d heard his real question: if they didn’t know what it was, how were they going to defeat it?

Raven looked around her, to what was left of the room, and focused her power on the pipes overhead, bringing the force of water to subdue the monster. It had the opposite effect: the creature grew several feet before Raven noticed and cut the current short.

“That’s why we can’t hurt it, it’s all watery!” Beast Boy complained.

“If it absorbs water…” Raven turned to her partner, “can you turn into something that’ll electrocute it?”

Beast Boy’s green eyes twinkled as he smiled brightly at her. “Way ahead of you.”

He jumped off the ledge, turned into an eagle, flew to the creature and turned into an eel inside it. The creature screeched as electricity racked its body.

That was what did it. The creature receded into slime and gave way to a man in a lab coat, lying unconscious on the ground. The man groaned as Beast Boy held him up, both steadying and restraining him.

Raven touched down next to them, lifted the man’s head with telekinesis, and saw the tell-tale glazed look in his eyes. “Mind-controlled,” she confirmed.

“Mento strikes again,” said Beast Boy.

“When is it ever anyone else?” Raven closed her eyes and held her hands to either side of the man’s head. As her hands glowed with power, Beast Boy watched her. Raven drew the hood of her cloak over her head whenever she could, but right now it was down, and her long purple hair spread out freely, and her brow furrowed ever so slightly as she concentrated, making a small ripple in the calm lake of her small olive-toned beige face. No matter how many times he stared at her and committed her features to memory, he could never remember once they were out of costume. Such was the technology of their jewels—it almost seemed like magic.

Once Raven undid the effects of mind control, she and Beast Boy did the usual routine of comforting the person who’d just woken up and explaining they had been mind-controlled.

“Do you remember what he sent you to do?” Beast Boy asked the man.

“I don’t…” the man held his head. “He told me to use my clearance to investigate this area. This isn’t my department, but I have coworkers here—I knew what was here was dangerous. But he told me to explore it… I couldn’t disobey.”

“Something in here made you turn into that monster?” Beast Boy asked, and the man nodded.

“No one can withstand Mento’s mind control,” Raven assured him. “Did he tell you what he was after?”

The man shut his eyes tight. “Something about a portal? I-I can’t remember anymore.”

The two superheroes assured him this was also normal. Mento’s orders faded away like a dream once Raven broke the effect.

After they sent him home, the teen superheroes made a disappearance before reporters crowded the scene. Beast Boy looked at Raven, walking through rooftops like a somber shadow –she always took their inability to get to Mento to heart-, and felt it necessary to say something to shake her out of her gloom. “Wanna go get food?”

She gaped at him, which was a step-up from her beating herself up in Beast Boy’s books. “In our costumes?”

Beast Boy shrugged. “Make a drive-thru employee’s day.” Then his eye twinkled and he brought his face close to Raven’s. “Or maybe you want something fancier. Are you finally gonna let me take you out on a real date?”

Raven pushed his face away. If left to his own devices, Beast Boy might actually close the gap. “Let’s go to McDonald’s,” she said all the same. She’d never gotten to finish her milkshake.

───

“You think we’ll ever actually catch Mento?” Beast Boy wondered later, as they sat on a rooftop surrounded by empty food papers. “He’s got to be planning something, I mean… he started out sending people to rob banks, pretty standard stuff, but why’s he messing with STAR Labs now?”

“That’s up to the League to figure out.” Raven firmly believed she and Beast Boy were the clean-up crew in the larger scope of organized superheroes. She accepted that role; her main concern was in helping where she could. They didn’t have the resources or the clearance the League had: realistically they would never catch Mento, so it made no sense to waste their efforts.

“You were willing to rap about it with Robin when he showed up.” Beast Boy made a show of crossing his arms and sounding like a sullen child.

“He has some sort of detective background,” Raven said, refusing to acknowledge her partner’s show of jealousy. “Plus I wasn’t theorizing. He was making guesses and I was listening. I’m not good at investigative work.”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short. We’re the career superheroes here, him and the others are part-timers.” As he said that, he slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, so their bodies touched and his voice vibrated on her chest—just like he planned it to, surely.

Raven allowed it and didn’t push him off. Her partner was a flirt, and flirting was fun, Raven had recently found. It was probably the mask, she reasoned; it made you feel free. It didn’t have to mean anything.

But then he lowered his voice and whispered in her ear, “Jump City’s real protectors. The Beast and his Beauty.”

And she considered she needed to take him down a notch. She turned to face him, leaning back to put some necessary distance between them, and said, “Mmh, you strike me more as an elf than a beast.” She reached to flick his pointy ears, which were sensitive. He jumped away, holding his ears, making a surprised smile at her. She quickly squashed a satisfied smile of her own.

Beast Boy seemed to take the hint and stayed on his spot of the roof. “Ha, the kid from the drive-thru posted the picture!”

Raven looked over. Beast Boy had his communicator open on the picture the drive-thru kid had requested with them, after she’d finished freaking out. Raven hadn’t even known their League of Superheroes-issued communicator could go on the Internet until Beast Boy tried it.

“Dude, you have to get an account for your superhero self,” Beast Boy told her. “Look, I’m tagged, and your name is just a sad little non-hyperlink word.”

“Just as I like it.” Who calls a girl ‘dude’? she thought. “I don’t need to know what people think about me all the time.” Superheroes usually held a unanimously good public opinion by virtue of being both vitally necessary to society and untied to government institutions. That didn’t mean Raven wanted to take her chances.

“Well, I’m used to it. I’m actually more famous as my civilian self.”

Raven looked at him in shock. “Don’t tell me things about your civilian life. We’ve been over this.” She quelled her frustration when someone’s rooftop couch and table got encased in dark energy. “That’s so specific, I could easily find out who you are,” she chided in a more level voice.

He held his hands up with a grin. It was one of the many times his carefree attitude irritated her.

“Our powers depend on us not finding out who the other is,” she reminded him.

“How would they know, though?” he asked immediately, leaning in. He was always ready to push this particular point at the drop of a hat. “How could they know we know?”

“We got the report of trouble in STAR Labs before the employees themselves got the notice to evacuate. It’s safe to say they have eyes everywhere. They would know.” And if they wouldn’t, I don’t care about your identity enough to risk it, she added in her mind, but that would be too cruel to say.

Beast Boy seemed to take that in stride, shrugging and leaning back on his hands, turning to the twinkling city skyline with a smile.

Raven knew his civilian self. She was sure of it. He’d told her too much for her to ignore the fact that they had crossed paths before. If she thought hard about it, she might be able to figure out who she was, and she turned those thoughts away whenever they came up for that very reason. She didn’t know why the League didn’t want them to know each other’s identities; she only knew it was the condition to keep her powers and continue helping people, so she’d obey the rule.

But information seemed to seep out of Beast Boy. It came faster than she could censor him. Once they’d had to take over a speeding bus, she’d asked him “Can you drive?” and instead of a simple “No,” he’d said, “I’m fifteen!” Once he’d been complaining about his day and name-dropped a teacher, and she’d realized he went to her school. He was a lost cause.

It was hard to believe he cared about anything. She bet he’d only agreed to the superhero gig because he enjoyed the spotlight. If he accidentally revealed his identity and had to turn in his ring, he’d probably just start a TikTok account.

“I would know if I knew your civilian self,” he said suddenly. “I know you too much. I’d just know.”

Raven met this bold statement with pure skepticism. “You know me? Really.” She jutted her chin at him. “Go on, then. Tell me how I am.”

She regretted it when she saw his face—a rare serious expression graced it. He stood and offered her his hands. She took them. When she was standing, he didn’t let go.

“I know you agreed to the superhero gig,” he began. “You got the mysterious box, followed the instructions, tried on the earrings, and went out to fight bad guys. That means you care. Deeply. I know your powers work with feelings. They only work if you feel. So you seem emotionless, but you’re not. You’re full of emotions.”

He was staring deeply into her eyes. It was one of those moments Raven believed Beast Boy loved her, like he said.

“I know you do the best by every person we meet. I know any day where I don’t see you is worthless. I know you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met. I know being around you makes me feel like I’m right where I’m supposed to be all the time.”

His hands still held on to her. She edged back. “Beast Boy,” she started.

“Don’t worry, I know,” he said quickly. “You love someone. You told me.” He made a sad smile and let go of her hands. “So, I’m not gonna make a move. But I’m not gonna let you forget I’m in love with you, either.” His eyes wandered to either side of him and he grinned, inexplicably. “Or lose hope.”

She only saw it when he pulled away—a sofa and chairs and potted plants, levitating by way of her powers. She snapped out of it, gained control of herself and set the furniture down softly. By that time Beast Boy had walked to the edge of the roof, where he grinned at her, waved, and flew away as a raven.

Beast Boy had a point, she thought as she went home herself. Her powers left her no place to hide; they showed she cared, they left her heart out in the open. If only she had that in real life, she reflected—physical proof of your feelings, there for everyone to see. Then perhaps Gar would just need to look at her to know how she felt.

───

A few notes:

This is a lighter fluffier world ok. The tone is like halfway between TT world and MLB world. So they’re dumbasses around each other and Raven has a little less control over her powers, BUT the setting is a bit more realistic and there’s no kwamis or colorful empowered citizens, just high tech and plain mind control respectively.

I actually hate Rachel as Raven’s real name (it’s fine as an alias) but in this setting it was necessary

I have a thing for one-sided BBRae but on Raven’s side and this is the fic I threw all of that self-indulgent goodness in

I’ve recently learned a ficlet is supossed to be less than 1,000 words and this isn’t that, but I chose to call it a ficlet anyway to indicate this isn’t gonna be a longfic, and because other people use the word ficlet for over 1K fics and language is made up anyway

I hope you enjoyed reading! :)

[crisis-on-infinite-batblogs]

Teen Titans (2003) #29

"Would I have been a better Robin? Would I have been a better person?"

One of the great many tragedies in Jason's story is that he was misremembered. They can retcon all they like, but the fact of the matter is: Jason was a good kid, and he was a damn good Robin. All his problems... and he still turned out good. To the very end-- to his dying breath -- he was good... and then he was gone.

Jason's memory was warped by an unknowable grief. To those who knew him, and to those who loved him, his death was unacceptable-- because bad things don't happen to good people. And Jason? My God-- Jason was just a kid! So, maybe it was easier to say that he was reckless. Maybe it softened the blow to think that he was violent. Maybe they told themselves whatever story went down the smoothest because the truth was still so goddamn hard to swallow.

By the time Jason came back-- by the time he finally came home-- they had all been telling the story for so long that it had become the subjective truth. Everyone remembered that Jason was the 'Bad Robin'. They all knew that he was a bad person. And the greatest tragedy of all was that Jason started to believe it himself.

[voidstilesplease]

love and war

a demigod au [companion] ficlet

~•~

Theo's eyes snap open when he hears the loud honk from outside the motel they're staying. He sits upright in his makeshift bed on the cold floor. It's still dark, and when he checks the clock in the room, only an hour has passed since they went to bed.

He transfers his gaze at the sleeping lump on the single bed, wrapped tightly in the comforter like a human burrito. Stiles is dead to the world, open-mouth with a bit of drool on one side. He looks so young and innocent and can't hurt a fly like this. But under his pillow, Theo can see the handhold of his dagger. They're almost to the entrance of the Underworld now. More monsters are after them. Caution and vigilance are of utmost importance if they want to come back from this quest alive.

Soft snoring takes his attention from Stiles to the shape on the couch. Involuntarily, Theo scowls at the sight of him. Derek Hale, son of Poseidon. He still can't believe he's on a quest with him, or even that all three of them are together in some mad twist of fate and managed not to kill one another yet. Barely, but still. Their godly parents are the worst rivals and are the three Olympians on the verge of a war if Theo, Stiles, and Derek fail. The last thing they should become is allies.

Derek shifts and Theo notes that he looks uncomfortable in his position. It makes him oddly satisfied.

He hears the loud honk again, but it's apparent now that only he does among them. Otherwise, his two companions would have sprung up, wide-eyed and ready to pounce, no matter how exhausted they had been from a full day of running and fighting monsters.

Theo gets up to his feet, clutching the hilt of his sword, and approaches the window guardedly. With sure fingers, he pulls down the blinds enough to peek. The image that greets him gives him a moment's pause, lips parting in surprise. 

Outside, a spotless, white limousine casually parks on the deserted road. A muscular man in black jeans, combat boots, and a red muscle shirt underneath a black vest leans against it. There's a familiar sneer in his mouth noticeable even from afar, and though he's donning sunglasses, Theo knows his eyes are on him. 

He's imagined this happening since his claim at Camp Half-Blood. If he appears to him right now while Theo's in the middle of a make-or-break mission, things must be getting worse in Olympus. He usually communicates to Theo in vague dreams, in a voice in his head, in some other weird manifestation since this started, but never coming to him in the flesh.

He lets go of the blind, delays for a second of contemplative silence, and then opens the door to meet his father, the God of War, Ares.

~•~

He slows his steps as he nears the broad figure. Up close, Theo notices the fire reflecting from inside his glasses. He has heard from his siblings that their dad had fireballs in his sockets instead of eyeballs. And that any children of Ares are compelled by unexplainable force to meet those flares, cowering.

Theo stops and raises his chin to meet his father's gaze, and no matter how he tries and how tough he is, he still dips his head in submission to the god. He swallows, "Father,"

His reply was a terse and detached, "Son,"

Theo lifts his head again, not quite meeting Ares's eyes this time, and hesitates for a second, but asks, "What are you doing here, father?"

The god's face twists like he has swallowed a lemon. His head fastens in the direction of the room Theo is renting for the night. "You have such unpromising companions," he spats, glaring at the window as if he sees through it. Ares probably does. "The son of Poseidon I can scarcely forgive," his attention slips back to Theo, and even without the proper organs, Theo can feel the disgust that would be reflected in them if he had eyeballs. The disapproval is rolling like waves in his aura, and it makes dread crawl up Theo's spine. He hates that his father can evoke such emotions just with his presence. He's also starting to feel his blood boil. "but Athena's spawn?"

Theo bites his lip and balls his fists to avoid saying something that will make his father smite him to smithereens. That is not at all the way he had imagined his first meeting with his father to end.

"She dares call me a thief," Ares's voice does not rise, but it doesn't have to. Theo's hyper-aware of his father's rage, and it makes his knees quiver to kneel and supplicate. 

Theo forces to say the words, "Stiles is helping to find an end to this conflict,"

Ares scoffs, unimpressed. "And by an end," he crosses his burly arms. "You mean victory against our enemies in the war."

Theo shakes his head, breathing through his nose. "I was thinking about not starting a war at all."

The look Ares gives him makes his stomach coil, and he hates it. The god regards him similarly to an insect: small, insignificant, and revolting. "No child of War runs from war."

Theo breathes in deep, his blunt and dirty nails digging in the skin of his palms. "There isn't one yet, that is necessary."

Ares's face thunders and the fire in his eyes glow brighter. It seems the god expresses no aversion to smiting his son right then and there. "She slandered my name-"

"Ares, dear, do be nice now." A silky, feminine voice interrupts his father from inside the limo. And amazingly, the god's anger deflates, albeit grudgingly. He's still enraged, but he's holding himself back from committing a crime. Theo inwardly sighs in relief.

The god purses his lips, nose flaring slightly, "My Lady wishes to give you a weapon,"

Theo draws his eyebrows together, "Your Lady?" Just as he says the question, the answer comes to Theo. He remembers the afternoon Stiles discussed with him in their session about his father's amorous relationship with a fellow Olympian.

"Aphrodite is the goddess of love and beauty and is married to Hera's son, Hephaestus, the god of the forge. The union forced upon Aphrodite as it was a condition made by Hephaestus so he would free his mother, Hera, from being bound into a magical throne he built and tricked the queen of the gods into sitting. Zeus granted it, and so they were married. Aphrodite resented his husband because Lord Hephaestus was, in the standard of the divinities, ugly and lame, and therefore, not befitting the goddess of beauty.

The god tried to gain her affection by designing beautiful jewelry for her in his workshop. But she wasn't interested. Instead, she used the opportunity of his husband's work arrest in his workshop to be unfaithful and be with other gods or goddesses, and even mortals.

Then she met Ares, and they fell in love. They kept on having affairs with other immortals and mortals, but they always came back to each other -even though that's against the rule of formal infidelity of the Greeks."

"Bring him in, dear,"

The soft voice breaks Theo's reverie, and with a huff, his father motions him to the door as requested by the goddess Aphrodite.

He doesn't know what to expect the goddess of beauty would look like, but when the door opens, Theo catches a glimpse of the car's occupant, and he thinks he hallucinated Stiles for a brief moment. When he blinks, he now sees the flowing hair and feminine features instead of gelled up hair and slender muscles.

He takes a seat, and the door shuts. Theo finds himself captivated by the different aura that she emanates in comparison to what he had felt with his father. His skin feels warm instead of burning, and his heart steadies instead of races. He stares at the face of the goddess, and if he isn't so gone, he would have remembered his manners -whatever little he has. At least, the goddess doesn't seem offended by the rapt attention -she's probably used to it- but amused.

Theo had never mentally built a picture of the goddess, but he didn't expect for her to have moles sprinkled in her pale face or have amber, almost molten liquid, eyes. But she has an elegant upturned nose and pink cupid's bow lips, which are as expected. Her features remind Theo so closely of Stiles. That must be why he thought he saw him for a second there.

When she smiles, it even feels familiar to Theo.

"What do you see?" She asks.

"Um," Theo swallows and licks his dried lips. "Your beauty, goddess."

She emits a soft, coy chuckle. "It is not universal. Do I resemble someone specific that you know?"

The question throws him for a little, and he blinks. "Yes," He says honestly, figuring there is no point in lying.

The smile on her face broadens, "My beauty is an individual's perception of it, son of Ares. It is one or the other, depending on who's looking."

He frowns, confused. Before he can ask what the goddess is trying to say or process it himself, Aphrodite procures an object in her hands that she passes to Theo. When he looks down at the item, it's a palm-sized rose looking-glass. He sees his reflection as he studies it. It's a simple circular mirror with roses encrusted around it; each petal is elaborately carved.

"It is a present from my husband," the goddess says.

Theo nods, thinking it makes perfect sense. Something as well-crafted as the item he holds must only be from a god. 

"When you absolutely need it," she continues, "look upon the mirror, and help will come. It grants only one call."

He gives the goddess a quizzical look, "Why are you giving it to me, though, Lady Aphrodite? I am grateful and honored to receive such a gift," he hastily adds, remembering Stiles's warning of always showing gratitude to the gods. It avoids spontaneously combusting. "But I don't know why me?"

Thankfully, she seems to be in good spirits because she only inclines her head. "Do you think it appropriate if I gifted that to the children of my beloved's rivals?"

Theo made a humming noise.

"I must say," she adds, "I assumed if it was the son of Poseidon I invited, I know what image he would see in my face. But, I wonder," she gives Theo a look, her brown eyes twinkling in the same fashion as Stiles's when he formulates a clever, and devious idea. "If it was the son of Athena, whose face would he have seen between two?"

Theo pauses, caught off guard.

Then, the goddess straightens. "Remember. Only once. Choose the moment wisely."

Theo opens his mouth to thank her once more and asks what is in exchange for the goddess' generosity. Stiles had also taught him that gods don't just hand out presents to the mortals they favor without a deed or a sacrifice. But, the next time he breathes, he's back inside the room, sitting in his comforter on the floor.

He blinks rapidly and scrambles to his feet toward the window. He pulls the blinds aside and sees nothing but a deserted road outside where the limo has been.

He almost thinks he dreamt it, but when he looks at his hand, Aphrodite's mirror is in there.

"Remember. Only once. Choose the moment wisely."

~•~

[1][2][3][4][comp 1]