V-Day Drabbles and YGO Anti-Hate Fest!
First of all, I'm hosting a YGO Anti-Hate Fest, where a ton of cool writers and icon makers have signed up to play. Go over there and make requests, and tell all your friends to play as well!
Secondly, here are a whole bunch of drabbles that I wrote on V-Day for a ton of different fandoms as gifts for my flist. Enjoy!
abrandnewboom requested Trowa/Quatre from Gundamn Wing, make up with a prompt of UV blocking sunglasses.
Roses wilted. Chocolates got eaten. Clothing was presumptuous and he liked Quatre's clothes anyway. Therefore, ever the practical one, Trowa had decided to get Quatre a pair of UV-blocking sunglasses as a make-up gift.
"Here." He held the box out to Quatre, who took it with the sad, bravely suffering face that he'd been wearing ever since his last fight with Trowa. Trowa hated the bravely suffering face. Even Duo's puppy-dog eyes were easier to stand.
Quatre opened the box carefully, peeling the paper off without tearing it, and peeked inside the box. Curiously, lifting them out, he asked Trowa, "Sunglasses?"
"You live in a desert. They have UV protection." Trowa explained. He paused for a second, "I don't want your eyes to get hurt."
Quatre smiled brilliantly at the show of protectiveness on Trowa's part and put them on. Trowa took that to signify that everything was fine between them again and was pleased with himself.
Once he realized that they covered up Quatre's beautiful eyes and he could no longer see them, he felt considerably less happy.
ryuutchi requested Lex/Mikhail from Smallville, hook up.
Mikhail burst into the Luthor mansion dramatically.
...Or, well, to be more accurate, he slunk in and surprised Lex, who'd been drinking a neat glass of Scotch. Lex promptly decided to fire his entire security staff for the fifth time that month. Good help was so hard to find these days.
He considered asking if Mikhail was there to kill him, as every other visitor to the mansion seemed to be, but decided that on the offchance that Mikhail wasn't, it probably wasn't a good idea to give him ideas. So Lex took another sip of Scotch and raised an eyebrow at Mikhail inquiringly.
Never let it be said that Luthors weren't cool in the face of danger.
"I," Mikhail conveniently announced, "Have my abilties returned."
That certainly took care of Lex's dilemna about how to non-suggestively phrase 'Well, hot Euro-trash. Are you here to kill me?'
"Indeed." When in doubt, resort to blank statements. Lex took another sip of Scotch. "Prove it."
Mikhail smirked, and commanded Lex with a beckoning gesture, "Come."
"..."
"..."
"Fine. I believe you." With the utmost dignity, Lex moved so that the desk was blocking Mikhail's view of his crotch and the small wet spot on the cloth of his trousers. "What do you want?"
Mikhail snapped out of his shock and started to negotiate. If he could get what he wanted from Lex, best not to mention that he'd actually just meant to command Lex to walk towards him.
...Maybe his powers weren't completely returned after all, but he'd be damned if he let Lex know that.
ryuutchi also wanted Relena from Gundam Wing to break up with someone, so I filled that request too!
One plus two is three. Two's company, three's a crowd. Three is Trowa, who is silent and takes away three from four, who is Quatre and cheerful. So it's not one plus two, it's two minus one. Heero takes away from Duo, and together, they still equal one. Positive.
Relena doesn't have a number. Heero can't take anything from her. With her, he's a negative, reversed fortunes, soldier without a war.
Opposites might attract, but they also cancel each other out, and neither Heero or Relena can accept a zero. When Heero leaves Relena for Duo, she tells herself she's not surprised. She'd always known that Heero would.
It's just simple arithmetic, after all.
caeliat asked for Good Omens, Aziraphael/Crowley hook-up.
"And now," Warlock pronounced solemnly, "You may kiss the bride!"
Crowley darted a panicked look at Aziraphale from under his sunglasses. This was all that blessed angel's fault. Couldn't just let the Antichrist grow up completely on his own, no. Had to drop by and do a little special babysitting every so often.
The demon didn't even know how it had gone from helping Warlock be more open-minded vis-a-vis gay marriage to actually taking part in a mock ceremony with Aziraphale. Children these days. Especially Antichrists!
"Well, go on." The child prodded them impatiently with the converted M-16 that he'd been holding for a sceptre (Crowley's idea, of course). "Kiss him!"
"Better do as he says, dear. He's got a gun." Aziraphale smiled serenely and tilted his face up at Crowley. Crowley refused to admit to being flustered in the face of ther angel's insulting calm, and ducked his head down to kiss Aziraphale.
Warlock laughed.
After a muttered oath, he managed to get the veil out of the way, and then kiss the angel. There! Now the angel was damned, and dirty, and impure, and-- and -- and--
Kissing him back quite enthusiastically.
Tearing his mouth away, eyes wide behind the sunglasses, Crowley rasped in shock, "Angel!"
Aziraphale failed to look in the least repentant, "Love is love, dear. I'm sure God won't mind."
Crowley had other arguments to make about sin and lust and making an effort but the application of a determined mouth to his caused him to lose not just the arguments but also the facility for speech.
Warlock watched for a bit, then wandered off, bored. Grown-ups were kind of weird.
daemonsadvocate got an original drabble!
He had the book bound in white leather, with the title embossed in gold. Each page was pre-aged to a creamy hue, and the text of the stories was a black that looked like it would never fade. Each poem was eggshell-fragile, words pieced together like rubies strung on a strand of gold, and together, they told of love in all its aspects.
When they broke up, she sold it for 2.3 million pounds.
She died a wealthy woman; he died a heartbroken man.
xinda asked for, and received, Hades/Megara from Hercules.
"My babe, my little Nutmeg, c'mon, just bat those eyes at your strongman boyfriend and get me out of here!" Hades had to calm himself by the end of the sentence, hands grasping on the side of the boat and refusing to let go.
Ignoring him, Meg continued to row on through the halls of the Underworld, which she had ended up ruling after Hades had been deposed. "Not a chance, Hades. I rule here, and you're staying in that river forever. Hercules has nothing to do with it."
She flipped her ponytail haughtily, "Besides, Wonder Boy's out of my life now."
Hades didn't miss the way her glance flickered downwards as she said that. Ah-hah. Opportunity beckoned to get out of this Zeus-forsaken river! "I told you he'd run off and break your heart. Meg, baby, you need to choose your men better!"
"I suppose you think you'd be an improvement." Meg's eyes flashed with fire as she held an oar as if considering whether to hit Hades with it.
"I wouldn't ditch you for any floozy and leave you ruling the Underworld on your own." Hades promised. The word of a god was inviolate.
"Still not impressed, Hades." Meg neared the shores, ready to end the conversation, "You lost the Underworld once already, and you lost me long ago. Get over it."
"Fine! Fine! But when the dead souls rise in revolt against you, don't come crying to me!" Hades snapped, hair flaring up again as he had to let go of the boat. He watched the slender columns of Meg's ankles as she stepped out onto the shore and walked away without a backwards glance.
She'd have to cross the river again eventually, and then Hades could give the whole kiss-and-makeup thing another try.
And once Meg agreed to let him rule the Underworld with him, he could kill her and rule alone! After all, he'd only said he wouldn't cheat on her. He'd never made any promises about murder.
Oh yeah, it was good to be a god. Even one floating in a river of undead.
yukirien asked for Remus/Lupin, angsty break up, when she actually meant to ask for Remus/Sirius, but I wrote Remus/Lupin anyway because it seemed like it would be interesting. Harry Potter.
Ever since his first transformation, the wolf had prowled around the edges of Remus' mind hungrily. Feed, it growled when it saw meat. Mate, it snarled when girls wearing certain scents (musky, inviting, the wolf didn't see any attraction in flowery or delicate perfumes) walked past. And most disturbingly of all was what it snarled whenever it saw Sirius with one of his many girlfriends -- Kill.
Remus thought of the wolf-mind as an 'it' because to call it 'him' would be to humanize it too much. Better to keep it as a scab or perhaps more accurately, a rash. An ugly rash, hive-like, that his clothes could cover up but that itched him all the time.
When he was told that there was an experimental cure for lycanthropy, he offered to test it instantly. Anything to get rid of that alien presence in his mind that gnawed at the corners of his thoughts like a dog with a bone that just wouldn't let go.
He drunk down the liquid, spent a week buckled down to a bed as his human body convulsed mindlessly -- and then didn't change when the full moon rolled past.
Remus woke up clear-eyed the morning after the full moon, and smiled up at his anxiously waiting friends. There was a general sigh of relief, then cheering.
The return to his normal life was easy. The wolf was quiet when the meat was laid out on the table and Remus considered becoming a vegetarian. Bellatrix leaned in just a little too close during Potions and all Remus felt was annoyance as she argued with Sirius.
Then she touched his cousin's arm (bloodtraitor), and smiled that Black smile, magic as dark as diseased blood, born of generations of inbreeding, and Remus felt the wolf inside awaken with an angry howl that made his blood run hot and his heart break open.
He passed out in the middle of Potions class, and when he woke, the wolf was there again in his mind as if it had never left. It did not greet him, or welcome its return, but Remus felt it look up at Sirius through his eyes and make a satisfied sound.
Even after Sirius left through the Veil, the wolf remained with Remus. The wolf would always remain with Remus.
nekokilala bought me a V-Day gift and thus, got two gift drabbles from me!
At the funeral, Ryuuji stands next to Seto. The coffin is lowered into the ground in silence, and Ryuuji doesn't take Seto's hand. Seto would refuse anything that made it look like he needed help, even though it's only the two of them and the grave digger there. Seto hadn't wanted a priest there; Ryuuji had read out the eulogy instead.
"Mokuba..." The name was spoken so quietly that Ryuuji thought he'd imagined it for a moment but when he looked over, Seto's fists were clenched so tightly that it looked like he was trying to make himself bleed.
Ryuuji knew all about ritual self-flagellation.
"Hey," He said quietly, under his breath, "I'm still here."
Seto turned and looked at him, eyes oddly disfocused, "Yes. You are."
So many disasters start with good intentions.
It didn't like enough, so nekokilala got a second part to go with it.
This," Ryuuji explained grandly to Seto, "Is X. Refined form of ecstasy, cut with just a little diamond meth."
Sprawled out naked on the bed, his hand shook just a little as he flipped the switchblade open and pressed the sharp tip against Seto's hipbone. "You cut yourself, scatter it on the wound, then cut your tongue and lick it off your blood." His smile was sharper than the blade. "Except I'm going to cut you instead. You bleed prettily."
Seto watched him with hooded eyes. His pretence of indifference was nearly perfect, the boy not twitching even a bit as a shallow X was scored into his skin. "Am I supposed to feel complimented?"
"People will kill to have me call them pretty." Ryuuji answered, eyes glittering as he carefully rolled up a yen bill into a tube and started to pour the powder down through it.
"Your mindless fangirls might, but they don't count as people." Seto retorted. The powder stung a little, but he'd need to be hurt a thousand times worse before his pride would let him show any sign of pain.
Ryuuji smirked at that, a neat white X of powder on Seto's hip now, the blood tainting it just a little pink. "Arrogant much, Seto? Funny, you didn't seem anywhere near as stuck up when I--"
"Just get it over with." Seto interrupted him. He watched the edges of Ryuuji's mouth quirk in amusement, and waited until Ryuuji had lowered his mouth to lap at the powder before twisting his body as sharply to the side as he could, considering the way he was tied down to the bed. The powder spilled off his skin, tiny grains disappearing amongst the sheets, and Seto had the satisfaction of hearing Ryuuji snarl, eyes dark with real anger for a change, "You uncooperative bastard!"
Seto freed himself from the last of the knots, having been working on them while Ryuuji was distracted with his preparations, and swung his feet over the side of the bed to get up. "Kill yourself if you want, but I'm not going to help you. I've got better things than watch you self-destruct."
The sound of the knife stabbing into the mattress echoed the slamming of the door.
And finally, a birthday drabble I wrote for monkeycrackmary. Steph, Gotham and blood.
Blood is one of the oldest currencies of all. The concept of blood sacrifice is not new in the least.
She is bleeding for Gotham; she is Robin, and what Robin does is bleed for Gotham. Robin causes bloodshed. Robin bleeds.
Robin has dark hair and Steph's hair is dying itself black (red, but it looks black under the lack of light) and she is not dying because she is not that Robin. This is Gotham. A Robin has never died in Gotham. Gotham will protect her.
As long as she bleeds for it, Gotham will protect her.
Her blood is the price paid for safety. Steph denies being superstitious but that thought runs through her blood, through her veins, the feeling that even out on the streets, she's safe because she's in Gotham and Gotham is watching over her with dark-windowed eyes and broken-door teeth.
She wishes, sometimes, that she was Jason. Not because of how he died (he died out of Gotham), but because he lived on the streets, practically sprang from them like a gutter flower. She doesn't tell anyone that because it's a dangerous thing to wish, and when people speak of Jason, their words are never unmixed with caution, but in her secret heart of hearts, Steph knows she is like Jason already. A little more wouldn't hurt.
She pikes and swings above the streets, and laughs for the joy of it. This is Gotham, her Gotham, and though Gotham belongs to the Bat, the Bat belongs to Robin, with Robin (as much as he can belong to or with anyone), and she is Robin. She is.
The morning sun comes up, and reveals the black streak in her hair to be only red, the Robin-red of her costume and lipstick. No magical transformation after all, and when Steph dies, her death is slow and painful and in Gotham.
Later, much later, Jason will tell her that mothers play favorites just like fathers do.
Gotham is no better than Batman.
Secondly, here are a whole bunch of drabbles that I wrote on V-Day for a ton of different fandoms as gifts for my flist. Enjoy!
abrandnewboom requested Trowa/Quatre from Gundamn Wing, make up with a prompt of UV blocking sunglasses.
Roses wilted. Chocolates got eaten. Clothing was presumptuous and he liked Quatre's clothes anyway. Therefore, ever the practical one, Trowa had decided to get Quatre a pair of UV-blocking sunglasses as a make-up gift.
"Here." He held the box out to Quatre, who took it with the sad, bravely suffering face that he'd been wearing ever since his last fight with Trowa. Trowa hated the bravely suffering face. Even Duo's puppy-dog eyes were easier to stand.
Quatre opened the box carefully, peeling the paper off without tearing it, and peeked inside the box. Curiously, lifting them out, he asked Trowa, "Sunglasses?"
"You live in a desert. They have UV protection." Trowa explained. He paused for a second, "I don't want your eyes to get hurt."
Quatre smiled brilliantly at the show of protectiveness on Trowa's part and put them on. Trowa took that to signify that everything was fine between them again and was pleased with himself.
Once he realized that they covered up Quatre's beautiful eyes and he could no longer see them, he felt considerably less happy.
ryuutchi requested Lex/Mikhail from Smallville, hook up.
Mikhail burst into the Luthor mansion dramatically.
...Or, well, to be more accurate, he slunk in and surprised Lex, who'd been drinking a neat glass of Scotch. Lex promptly decided to fire his entire security staff for the fifth time that month. Good help was so hard to find these days.
He considered asking if Mikhail was there to kill him, as every other visitor to the mansion seemed to be, but decided that on the offchance that Mikhail wasn't, it probably wasn't a good idea to give him ideas. So Lex took another sip of Scotch and raised an eyebrow at Mikhail inquiringly.
Never let it be said that Luthors weren't cool in the face of danger.
"I," Mikhail conveniently announced, "Have my abilties returned."
That certainly took care of Lex's dilemna about how to non-suggestively phrase 'Well, hot Euro-trash. Are you here to kill me?'
"Indeed." When in doubt, resort to blank statements. Lex took another sip of Scotch. "Prove it."
Mikhail smirked, and commanded Lex with a beckoning gesture, "Come."
"..."
"..."
"Fine. I believe you." With the utmost dignity, Lex moved so that the desk was blocking Mikhail's view of his crotch and the small wet spot on the cloth of his trousers. "What do you want?"
Mikhail snapped out of his shock and started to negotiate. If he could get what he wanted from Lex, best not to mention that he'd actually just meant to command Lex to walk towards him.
...Maybe his powers weren't completely returned after all, but he'd be damned if he let Lex know that.
ryuutchi also wanted Relena from Gundam Wing to break up with someone, so I filled that request too!
One plus two is three. Two's company, three's a crowd. Three is Trowa, who is silent and takes away three from four, who is Quatre and cheerful. So it's not one plus two, it's two minus one. Heero takes away from Duo, and together, they still equal one. Positive.
Relena doesn't have a number. Heero can't take anything from her. With her, he's a negative, reversed fortunes, soldier without a war.
Opposites might attract, but they also cancel each other out, and neither Heero or Relena can accept a zero. When Heero leaves Relena for Duo, she tells herself she's not surprised. She'd always known that Heero would.
It's just simple arithmetic, after all.
caeliat asked for Good Omens, Aziraphael/Crowley hook-up.
"And now," Warlock pronounced solemnly, "You may kiss the bride!"
Crowley darted a panicked look at Aziraphale from under his sunglasses. This was all that blessed angel's fault. Couldn't just let the Antichrist grow up completely on his own, no. Had to drop by and do a little special babysitting every so often.
The demon didn't even know how it had gone from helping Warlock be more open-minded vis-a-vis gay marriage to actually taking part in a mock ceremony with Aziraphale. Children these days. Especially Antichrists!
"Well, go on." The child prodded them impatiently with the converted M-16 that he'd been holding for a sceptre (Crowley's idea, of course). "Kiss him!"
"Better do as he says, dear. He's got a gun." Aziraphale smiled serenely and tilted his face up at Crowley. Crowley refused to admit to being flustered in the face of ther angel's insulting calm, and ducked his head down to kiss Aziraphale.
Warlock laughed.
After a muttered oath, he managed to get the veil out of the way, and then kiss the angel. There! Now the angel was damned, and dirty, and impure, and-- and -- and--
Kissing him back quite enthusiastically.
Tearing his mouth away, eyes wide behind the sunglasses, Crowley rasped in shock, "Angel!"
Aziraphale failed to look in the least repentant, "Love is love, dear. I'm sure God won't mind."
Crowley had other arguments to make about sin and lust and making an effort but the application of a determined mouth to his caused him to lose not just the arguments but also the facility for speech.
Warlock watched for a bit, then wandered off, bored. Grown-ups were kind of weird.
daemonsadvocate got an original drabble!
He had the book bound in white leather, with the title embossed in gold. Each page was pre-aged to a creamy hue, and the text of the stories was a black that looked like it would never fade. Each poem was eggshell-fragile, words pieced together like rubies strung on a strand of gold, and together, they told of love in all its aspects.
When they broke up, she sold it for 2.3 million pounds.
She died a wealthy woman; he died a heartbroken man.
xinda asked for, and received, Hades/Megara from Hercules.
"My babe, my little Nutmeg, c'mon, just bat those eyes at your strongman boyfriend and get me out of here!" Hades had to calm himself by the end of the sentence, hands grasping on the side of the boat and refusing to let go.
Ignoring him, Meg continued to row on through the halls of the Underworld, which she had ended up ruling after Hades had been deposed. "Not a chance, Hades. I rule here, and you're staying in that river forever. Hercules has nothing to do with it."
She flipped her ponytail haughtily, "Besides, Wonder Boy's out of my life now."
Hades didn't miss the way her glance flickered downwards as she said that. Ah-hah. Opportunity beckoned to get out of this Zeus-forsaken river! "I told you he'd run off and break your heart. Meg, baby, you need to choose your men better!"
"I suppose you think you'd be an improvement." Meg's eyes flashed with fire as she held an oar as if considering whether to hit Hades with it.
"I wouldn't ditch you for any floozy and leave you ruling the Underworld on your own." Hades promised. The word of a god was inviolate.
"Still not impressed, Hades." Meg neared the shores, ready to end the conversation, "You lost the Underworld once already, and you lost me long ago. Get over it."
"Fine! Fine! But when the dead souls rise in revolt against you, don't come crying to me!" Hades snapped, hair flaring up again as he had to let go of the boat. He watched the slender columns of Meg's ankles as she stepped out onto the shore and walked away without a backwards glance.
She'd have to cross the river again eventually, and then Hades could give the whole kiss-and-makeup thing another try.
And once Meg agreed to let him rule the Underworld with him, he could kill her and rule alone! After all, he'd only said he wouldn't cheat on her. He'd never made any promises about murder.
Oh yeah, it was good to be a god. Even one floating in a river of undead.
yukirien asked for Remus/Lupin, angsty break up, when she actually meant to ask for Remus/Sirius, but I wrote Remus/Lupin anyway because it seemed like it would be interesting. Harry Potter.
Ever since his first transformation, the wolf had prowled around the edges of Remus' mind hungrily. Feed, it growled when it saw meat. Mate, it snarled when girls wearing certain scents (musky, inviting, the wolf didn't see any attraction in flowery or delicate perfumes) walked past. And most disturbingly of all was what it snarled whenever it saw Sirius with one of his many girlfriends -- Kill.
Remus thought of the wolf-mind as an 'it' because to call it 'him' would be to humanize it too much. Better to keep it as a scab or perhaps more accurately, a rash. An ugly rash, hive-like, that his clothes could cover up but that itched him all the time.
When he was told that there was an experimental cure for lycanthropy, he offered to test it instantly. Anything to get rid of that alien presence in his mind that gnawed at the corners of his thoughts like a dog with a bone that just wouldn't let go.
He drunk down the liquid, spent a week buckled down to a bed as his human body convulsed mindlessly -- and then didn't change when the full moon rolled past.
Remus woke up clear-eyed the morning after the full moon, and smiled up at his anxiously waiting friends. There was a general sigh of relief, then cheering.
The return to his normal life was easy. The wolf was quiet when the meat was laid out on the table and Remus considered becoming a vegetarian. Bellatrix leaned in just a little too close during Potions and all Remus felt was annoyance as she argued with Sirius.
Then she touched his cousin's arm (bloodtraitor), and smiled that Black smile, magic as dark as diseased blood, born of generations of inbreeding, and Remus felt the wolf inside awaken with an angry howl that made his blood run hot and his heart break open.
He passed out in the middle of Potions class, and when he woke, the wolf was there again in his mind as if it had never left. It did not greet him, or welcome its return, but Remus felt it look up at Sirius through his eyes and make a satisfied sound.
Even after Sirius left through the Veil, the wolf remained with Remus. The wolf would always remain with Remus.
nekokilala bought me a V-Day gift and thus, got two gift drabbles from me!
At the funeral, Ryuuji stands next to Seto. The coffin is lowered into the ground in silence, and Ryuuji doesn't take Seto's hand. Seto would refuse anything that made it look like he needed help, even though it's only the two of them and the grave digger there. Seto hadn't wanted a priest there; Ryuuji had read out the eulogy instead.
"Mokuba..." The name was spoken so quietly that Ryuuji thought he'd imagined it for a moment but when he looked over, Seto's fists were clenched so tightly that it looked like he was trying to make himself bleed.
Ryuuji knew all about ritual self-flagellation.
"Hey," He said quietly, under his breath, "I'm still here."
Seto turned and looked at him, eyes oddly disfocused, "Yes. You are."
So many disasters start with good intentions.
It didn't like enough, so nekokilala got a second part to go with it.
This," Ryuuji explained grandly to Seto, "Is X. Refined form of ecstasy, cut with just a little diamond meth."
Sprawled out naked on the bed, his hand shook just a little as he flipped the switchblade open and pressed the sharp tip against Seto's hipbone. "You cut yourself, scatter it on the wound, then cut your tongue and lick it off your blood." His smile was sharper than the blade. "Except I'm going to cut you instead. You bleed prettily."
Seto watched him with hooded eyes. His pretence of indifference was nearly perfect, the boy not twitching even a bit as a shallow X was scored into his skin. "Am I supposed to feel complimented?"
"People will kill to have me call them pretty." Ryuuji answered, eyes glittering as he carefully rolled up a yen bill into a tube and started to pour the powder down through it.
"Your mindless fangirls might, but they don't count as people." Seto retorted. The powder stung a little, but he'd need to be hurt a thousand times worse before his pride would let him show any sign of pain.
Ryuuji smirked at that, a neat white X of powder on Seto's hip now, the blood tainting it just a little pink. "Arrogant much, Seto? Funny, you didn't seem anywhere near as stuck up when I--"
"Just get it over with." Seto interrupted him. He watched the edges of Ryuuji's mouth quirk in amusement, and waited until Ryuuji had lowered his mouth to lap at the powder before twisting his body as sharply to the side as he could, considering the way he was tied down to the bed. The powder spilled off his skin, tiny grains disappearing amongst the sheets, and Seto had the satisfaction of hearing Ryuuji snarl, eyes dark with real anger for a change, "You uncooperative bastard!"
Seto freed himself from the last of the knots, having been working on them while Ryuuji was distracted with his preparations, and swung his feet over the side of the bed to get up. "Kill yourself if you want, but I'm not going to help you. I've got better things than watch you self-destruct."
The sound of the knife stabbing into the mattress echoed the slamming of the door.
And finally, a birthday drabble I wrote for monkeycrackmary. Steph, Gotham and blood.
Blood is one of the oldest currencies of all. The concept of blood sacrifice is not new in the least.
She is bleeding for Gotham; she is Robin, and what Robin does is bleed for Gotham. Robin causes bloodshed. Robin bleeds.
Robin has dark hair and Steph's hair is dying itself black (red, but it looks black under the lack of light) and she is not dying because she is not that Robin. This is Gotham. A Robin has never died in Gotham. Gotham will protect her.
As long as she bleeds for it, Gotham will protect her.
Her blood is the price paid for safety. Steph denies being superstitious but that thought runs through her blood, through her veins, the feeling that even out on the streets, she's safe because she's in Gotham and Gotham is watching over her with dark-windowed eyes and broken-door teeth.
She wishes, sometimes, that she was Jason. Not because of how he died (he died out of Gotham), but because he lived on the streets, practically sprang from them like a gutter flower. She doesn't tell anyone that because it's a dangerous thing to wish, and when people speak of Jason, their words are never unmixed with caution, but in her secret heart of hearts, Steph knows she is like Jason already. A little more wouldn't hurt.
She pikes and swings above the streets, and laughs for the joy of it. This is Gotham, her Gotham, and though Gotham belongs to the Bat, the Bat belongs to Robin, with Robin (as much as he can belong to or with anyone), and she is Robin. She is.
The morning sun comes up, and reveals the black streak in her hair to be only red, the Robin-red of her costume and lipstick. No magical transformation after all, and when Steph dies, her death is slow and painful and in Gotham.
Later, much later, Jason will tell her that mothers play favorites just like fathers do.
Gotham is no better than Batman.