This is mine now, I shall stealbut not really it and treasure it forever and ever, ill hang it on the wall right next to the one ring XD
<3 You got ink down perfectly. I also think you did a splendid job with Ian as well but that's just from what I know him. Its overall a very cute little drabble and a beautiful gift (I call it that because it feels like one XD). Thank you so much for including my character in this one dear, its truly an honor for her to be in one of your works of art <3<3<3<3<3
Post by Elenaphant on Aug 30, 2013 21:45:33 GMT -6
Sorry for all the Damar'i spam. If I had them in canon I wouldn't have to compensate this way XD This one might be a little strange, but I pull inspiration out of the oddest of places. Plus I'm a sucker for intimacy.
Calm Me Down
Damian had a temper. Mar'i had a temper. They both had tempers. Mar'i just handled hers better. She had to, being a super strong super destructive alien. Sure, she was occassionally brutal and the Tower had seen it's days of horror, but considering who she was and what she could be, Mar'i continued to be a shining example of control. Damian not so much lately. While her moods changed all too easily the youngest Robin was in a constant state of anger. He just couldn't calm down, so Nightstar being the leader took on the sole responsibility of dealing with him when everyone else wanted to tell him to piss off among other things.
She tried most of what helped her--deep breathing, pleasant visualizaton, cleaning (aka hobbies she enjoyed), and aromatherapy combined with some meditation. It worked okay when he could be convinced into participating, but convincing him of anything when he was being a crabby butt was a hit-and-miss. Mar'i was exhausting her resources and patience trying to think of new ways to calm Damian down. Then she did some more research.
"I think it might work, but I worry it's a bit too intense for you."
Damian raised his eyebrow at her in that woman, please kind of way. "How could it possibly be intense when it's supposed to calm me down? I seriously doubt any of your flowery techniques could intimidate me."
"It involves prolonged personal contact. Think you can handle that?"
"...What kind of personal contact?"
"Well--erm, it's just.. how about we discuss this in my room?" She tugged on his hand and pulled him down the hall to her bedroom. It had purple walls and the distinct scent of lavender. Everything was in order and clean, just as she liked it.
He would never say he was nervous, just alarmed as to she could be thinking. "Grayson, is this going to be something highly inappropriate? Your father would not--"
"You wish," she scoffed, defensive and a little flustered which he enjoyed seeing. It was cute. "It's out there, but it helped me as a kid and I think it'll help you."
"What?" He watched her float over to the bed, eyebrows furrowed, as she plopped down and placed a hand over her chest.
"Heartbeat. It's naturally soothing."
"And I suppose you want me to listen to your heart," he said it like it was beneath him, but his eyes were looking at her uncertainly--unsure what to make of this situation no doubt. "I assume without a stethescope."
"I know you don't particularly care for it, but people do naturally crave touch when anxious Damian. It's something to try, but if you don't want to that's your call. I'm just offering."
Yes, offering an opportunity to lay in bed and do something outlandish... intimate was the word they used for something like this. He had the full inent to call her something silly and walk right out, but it was an opportunity to be close to her and that made it difficult to turn away.
When she saw him hesitate she held open her arms and grinned. Damn her. He walked over, hesitantly sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Oh--wait--take off your shoes, I don't want them on my bed."
"-TT-!" He grumbled something she didn't care to catch as he leaned over and worked off his stylish green boots. "Now what?"
He tensed when she put her hand to the back of his head and pulled him in. He was not blushing, but he was seriously considering pulling away and hightailing it out because nothing about this situation seemed decent. "How is this not making you uncomfortable?"
"Are you uncomfortable?"
"This is indecent."
"It's like a hug, you're the one making it indecent~"
"TT."
"Just relax. Can you hear my heart beating?"
He didn't answer. Since he was so preoccupied about where his face was and bickering with Grayson, he hadn't paid much heed but yes, he heard it,. He was taught to notice everything on some level, but there was an obvious difference when the room fell quiet and he could focus distinctly on that sound. The rythmic beating that told him she was alive. He never listened to someone's heart beat before; not like this. He's heard it before, when in those rare moments his mother would embrace him, it was an almost instinctual indulgence. Something he had sought as a boy but never got. He'd hear it when Dick pulled him into a tight hug, or Alfred, or even on occassion his father...
Those instances couldn't be compared considering the context of this moment. Although he was uncomfortable with it (not that he would admit such a thing), it was not entirely unpleasant. She was soft, and very warm. The room smelled nice but it was her in particular that had him taking in deeper, consciously discrete breaths. She was the one who insisted on this, so he was just... enjoying the benefits.
From the rhythm of her heartbeat he could tell she wasn't entirely unaffected by their proximity, for all her insistence that she wasn't, and it made him smirk.
The smirk faded when he felt feather-light touches upon his back. He tensed and went completely still. Touch he was at odds with, but on his back were scar tissue that ran along his spine and their reminder sparked memories he didn't want to revisit now. Whether she noticed his state or not he couldn't tell, but her hand moved to his hair and she was stroking it like he were a cat. Honestly woman.
He was still not blushing.
After some time, Mar'i peered down and saw that Damian had fallen asleep. That made her happy and she smiled, running fingers through his hair even still because X'hal knows she rarely got a chance to. She got to admire things like how nice his lashes were--he might not appreciate the compliment but it was true.
Maybe it was weird, but it felt right, and it was effective. A girl could easily get usd to cuddling a boy she liked before drifting to sleep herself.
Last Edit: Aug 30, 2013 21:54:27 GMT -6 by Elenaphant
Post by Elenaphant on Sept 4, 2013 21:58:37 GMT -6
A Titan Fairytale A Journey Begins
Once upon a time, dragons used to visit mortals upon their primitive settlements. They would share knowledge that was beyond the time of Man, and played an instrumental, but soon forgotten role in the advancement of civilization. As mankind expanded across the globe, their greed and thirst for knowledge knew no bounds. The dragons, one worshipped as gods, were hunted for their scales, their blood, their teeth, their very bones. They were captured and tortured for their secrets, never to see the light of day again. Now they were a rare sight, highly coveted, but never to be seen again in the skies that once was their undisputed territory.
Not all men lived in greed. In a time of corrupt kings and evil witches, prevailed heroes. There were noble knights, jaded by the corruption of the royalty, who turned their backs and went in search of true masters. Mostly, there were outlaws, who would steal from the rich and give to the poor—that sort of thing. Not the good rich, though he swore that those were a rarity among gems, but the evil rich. The ones who already took from an impoverished society to fill their fat pockets.
To live that life, one couldn't be content with the everyday, ordinary rituals. One had to crave adventure and he certainly did.
Robin was good friends with a Seer. She belonged to the same clan he did, under the emblem of Bats, but theirs was not a bond of blood, but of ideals. He had spent many days of his youth with her, dodging the authorities while parading the stronghold in their masks and hoods. However, he had a falling out with the head; the man he could, if he weren't so stubborn, call father. So he asked Barbara where he might find his fate. The Seer told him to cross the desert and go east to the city of the Sun, then travel to the remote mountains where he will find his destiny. When asked what he might hope to gain, all she could tell him was 'the most precious thing', but to mind his heart, for it may be taken by a terrible monster.
Robin was nothing if not brave, so he decided to go find this 'precious thing', and set off for his lonely quest. His journey was a long one. As he crossed the desert under the blistering sun, he miscalculated how much water he would need and fell dehydrated. Bandits came and he thwarted them, but they killed his horse and so an already long journey took forever. Unceremoniously he passed out.
Thump, thump, thump.
He opened his eyes slowly, trying to see straight. He was...riding a camel? Except, camels weren't usually green.
“Oh, so you're awake!”
Nor did they usually speak. Such was the life they lived, so rather than falling over, screaming in terror, he did his best to sit up and address this creature. “And who are you?”
“I'm Gar—well, I'm a boy actually. A Beast of a Boy. Beastboy! Yeah, that sounds about right. And you're Robin, aren't you? The infamous vigilante? Part of Batclan? What are you doing so far away from Gotham?”
“I'm on a quest.” He didn't feel like discussing the Batclan. That was what he was trying to move away from and find his destiny.
“A quest? That sounds exciting! I wish I had a quest. Where are you headed to?”
“The mountains past the city of the Sun, um, you said you were a boy? Beastboy was it? How did you--”
“I'm a changeling. You know, mages that take the form of animals? There's not that many of us but my magic is kind of special. I look like a green elf, I know. Well, I was crossing the desert in search of my own quest—what a coincidence, right?--and then I saw you lying on the ground. I figured with an empty canteen of water you probably dehydrated. So I gave you my own and you sooort of woke up but I think you were hallucinating because you said something about red hair, and then I figure I should take you over to the oasis—which is where I'm going by the way—so--”
“Slow down a second!” Robin couldn't follow the voice as well as he could. He felt hot, like he was burning up from the inside and his eyelids behind his mask felt heavy. “Thank you for your help. What's awaits us at this oasis?”
“A gypsy! She's got charms and spells and she's probably got a crystal ball and everything!”
An oasis did sound like a good place for a rest. He just needed to... rest his eyes first...
Last Edit: Sept 4, 2013 22:00:20 GMT -6 by Elenaphant
Robin woke up for the second time that day, but this time was decidedly a lot more pleasant. He was lying on something comfortable, and there was a cool hand at his forehead. He felt like his pain was ebbing away. When he opened his eyes, a pair of lovely violet eyes were peeking out at him from behind a dark hood.
“So you woke up,” she observed in monotone.
“Yeah, he keeps doing that.” A plucky voice said from somewhere behind her.
“You got sun sickness,” she explained. “I have healed you with my arts, so you should be well now.”
“Yes... I feel a lot better, thank you.”
She held out her grey hand. “That will be five gold.”
“What?” He stared at her dumbly. Surely she wasn't serious.
“Aww, come on Rae-Rae! He's been through a lot.”
“So have I, and the name's Raven. Don't call me that. Now, that will be five gold.”
Robin rubbed his eyes and sighed. So far this quest was irritating, but what could he do? It was his own fault for being stupid and not packing extra water. The desert was bandit territory, and it seemed this season was a lot worse than usual; just his luck. As much as he liked bashing a few skulls in with his trusty staff, the heat reminded him he was only human. He wished he could have saved the horse at least. He reached for the sachel clipped to his belt and pulled out five gold for what he deduced was the gypsy Beastboy spoke of.
She looked strange for a gypsy. Her skin was like alabaster stone, and her hair had a purple hue not unlike her eyes. When she pulled down her hood there was a gem upon her forehead. He would not have called her a 'gypsy' upon meeting her even if her dwellings did suggest it. If he was being honest, she would have struck him as a witch. A pretty one, but there was something about her that was... eerie.
Yet not at the same time.
He could see his staff was resting against the wall where Beastboy sat. Good, he was worried that the green elf had left it behind when saving him. Not that he would have blamed him. Actually, he was really grateful. Not many people these days would cross a body and not loot it, let alone share water and carry across a desert. The very least he could do was be friendly.
“Did you find out your quest?”
The green elf broke into a toothy grin. “Yup! Had to borrow five gold from you, but that's okay! I'll repay you when we get to the city of the Sun.”
“We?” Robin questioned with an unseen raise of the eyebrow.
“Yeah! That's my quest. Go to the city of the Sun and find true company there.”
Robin hadn't intended to take on a companion. He was looking to be a solo act, so while he was grateful for the help he wasn't altogether comfortable travelling with someone else. That, and while his anima skills were impressive (he's never heard of a mage maintaining form for so long), he couldn't see him braving the city of the Sun. The desert was one thing, but that place was the sort of unforgiving only those used to a place like Gotham could call 'manageable'. What kind of company awaited him there.
“Are you—umm,” he stole a quick glance to Raven, who was huddled in the corner watching them. “Are you sure that's where you want to go?”
“When a Seer tells you to go, you say you'll be 'seeing her' and you go!” He waggled his eyebrows toward the gypsy, inviting her to laugh at his wordy pun. She rolled her eyes instead.
“I'm not a Seer,” she corrected, and turned her attention to straightening one out of many stacks of books. “I just have some proficiency in fortune telling. It brings the customers.”
“So what are you then?” Robin asked curiously. He had slipped out of bed before she even noticed, and was tilting his head like he was trying to figure her out. “I'm sorry but, you don't strike me as a gypsy.” They were nomads without a home, with their own brand of spirituality. He wasn't an expert, but considering his mother was one he had a faint idea of what it entailed. She seemed to have shed that identity when she chose to marry his father, or so he thought.
He didn't want to think too much about that.
“...No. I'm a wanderer, it's true, and I did join a caravan for some time but I wasn't born into that community. What I am is of no consequence to you,” she said coldly, keeping her eyes averted. “What you should be asking is what I can do for you...and on what condition.”
Robin, being a masked vigilante who went by a false name, could respect that she'd want to keep her identity to herself. He backed away on that front, but he knew when someone was edging for a deal. “Okay. Consider it asked.”
“I have spells and magic at my disposal.” To demonstrate, she waved her hand after muttering three words he couldn't make out, and all the stationary items moves to float in the air, cramming the small tent. Beast Boy yelped and ducked when a teapot hit his head. “I can tell you when someone's intentions are not the best. I can provide enchantments to make your quest easier. Name your desire, and I'll see if there's a spell to match.”
Tempting, not that Robin liked to dabble much with magic. It usually benefited the caster more than the requester. “And you for this you want?”
The items moved back into their proper place. “Escort me to Sun city.”
Robin raised his eyebrows. “That's it?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Mhm.”
Robin sighed, running a hand through his hair. He started off this journey alone, intending to keep it that way, but he had not one, but two people to escort to a major stop. “You don't need to do anything for me. If you want to come along, you can.”
She actually looked a little surprised; the most emotion he's seen since he laid eyes on her. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Mhm.”
“Aww sweet!” Beast boy exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air. “We're making a little party!” At their judgemental looks, he elaborated, “You know, like when you have a band of heroes together following each other it's called a party.”
A beat, and then he looked back at Raven. “May I ask why you want to go?”
She hesitated, and after a very brief moment, she lifted her hood back up again and answered, “In a big city like that, you can lose yourself. Become faceless among a crowd. At an oasis, not so much.”
Post by Elenaphant on Oct 30, 2013 21:04:00 GMT -6
Son
It was a secret he would have taken to the grave, as father and son stood across from one another. The masks were off, at least, the physical ones. Even without the cowl Bruce Wayne stood as guarded as the dark knight.
All had been as was until Mar'i and Damian met. The detective that he was, it did not pass his scrutinous eye the way the two looked at each other when first meeting. The differences slight, but easy to read in the more animated child's gaze. She was not merely looking at a stranger, and nor was his son. From the moment they were introduced there was a dangerous spark of interest. The girl of course would soon leave to be at her mother's side, and Damian would be busy learning to curb what he learned from al Ghul to be a better Robin. When tragedy struck Tamaranean royalty, Mar'i was in no state to act upon any feelings whatsoever. The matter, at least for a few years, was at rest.
His opinion on the matter was never asked. Mari's father was oblivious, and for awhile he allowed it. The lingering glances the two stole just that. When Nightwing suggested that Robin join the Titans, in that unsupervised tower, he was strongly against it. When he asked why, he pointed out the budding relationship, opening up the father's eyes for the first time to his daughter's potential love life. Bruce had hoped that Damian would respect Dick enough to withhold pursuing anything, but he knew better to bank on that. When it was still decided to let the boy go, 'talks' were given, and he tried with Mar'i instead. He knew her well enough to know just how to instill doubt.
As Damian grew older, Bruce knew he had to pull him away from his fancy. He got called back to be in Gotham, by his side, and he was taken to many events as a Wayne, introduced to many young ladies of and around his age. Yet the youngest Wayne showed no interest beyond the first few dances, and when he had asked his blessing to pursue Mar'i more sincerely—knowing his disapproval—Bruce had surprised everyone by snapping. He aroused suspicion, but Bruce knew he was coming dangerously close to something he never wanted to admit. He knew, unless he told the truth, Mar'i and Damian were likely to step into a territory they couldn't readily come back from. One way or another, the truth would come out, and he couldn't allow that atrocity to happen to his family.
So he came clean, standing before his son and telling him the truth for the first time, and he could practically hear the strings snapping in his head.
“...How is that possible.” Dick said, looking at him with his fists balled, white-knuckled. “Damian can't be Mar'i's literal uncle. I had my misgivings but you—you have some warped ideas going around in your head, Bruce. Been hit in the head one too many times.”
“You can test it.”
He shaked his head. “My father was John Grayson. How could you have possibly--”
“I trained with them. That man is still your father, Dick, I would never deny him that, but when I did some things I wasn't proud of. When I saw you, and learned how old you were I had my suspicions and ran a DNA test. Dick, you are my son. I just never wanted you to find out, especially after what happened.”
“So you hid this from me?! God—then Mar'i.. Mar'i is--”
“My granddaughter, yes, and Damian is your younger brother. I couldn't allow them to continue down this path. They have to know.”
“Why. I can't believe this—I know who my father was. You never took me as a son. I was always your ward—always someone you could cast aside—you can't come to me with this after all these years! You must be delusional. You've gone to the deep, old man, imagining some sick stories in your head I want no part of. That my mother would—no. It's not possible.”
“Then take the tests. You'll see Mar'i and Damian are a match—do it yourself if you don't believe me. I taught you how. I didn't want you to know. I was afraid you'd turn against me, that you'd go down the wrong path. That's why I kept it from you. I didn't want to ruin the memory of your parents, so I told no one, not even Alfred. Except even I couldn't have forseen that a second son of mine would have any interest in a daughter of yours.”
His face faltered a fraction. He wasn't banking on forgiveness, but he said it anyway. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to find out this way.”
“And who do we have to blame for that? I'll see to those tests myself, Bruce, you must be lying—you must be, or so help me God.” In a fit of rage he stormed off, and Bruce was left to wonder if he stood to lose one or more son in this ugly truth.
ooc: Before you go crazy on me, this is not an original idea, but rather based off of THIS that I found. I wrote that if this were true for ALL Batman continuities (it's not even true for one) then in Kingdom Come we'd have had a case of incest seeing as how Ibn and Mar'i totes got it on, got married, and had two children together. So I figured IF THIS WERE TRUE (it is not) then my OTP and its sinking would be the reason why it got out. ALSO IN MY DRABBLE BRUCE SO DID NOT KILL THE GRAYSONS. I just think he would have visited them given he had trained, and then when seeing their son put two and two together like the detective he is.
Last Edit: Oct 30, 2013 21:13:29 GMT -6 by Elenaphant
Opulence lost its awe. The immaculate settings were the fantasy of many people, and money certainly went far to create visions of paradise. Everything was so pristine, in place, and the quality obvious. The people matched their surroundings. Aged faces compensated with tailored suits and accessories that could comfortably feed a couple of families for a month. The staff that catered to their needs well trained, all to contribute to a feeling of a flawless, grand existence in this large, chandelier speckled halls. It took great work to make a place worthy of hosting billionaires, and when money was in excess so was the detail. A chair wasn't just a chair, it was mahogany, imported, hand-craft—none two features the same though under the illusion of uniformity in a common motif running through the woodwork. Silver platters were not just silver platters and at least one of the edible items containing some amounts of truffle oil—or shaved gold (the shit of the rich couldn't be spared that shiny touch) to top it off.
Using the right perspective, even all that could be dissected down to its basic elements, and suddenly an expensive mahogany chair again becomes just a chair; a good one, but still a chair. Everything becomes confined to its material reality. The way people interacted with each other unfurling into a pattern of motives, even accounting individual differences they were still so human, so logical, if one just stopped to think. To be taken by a display one had to be enchanted into its story and Mar'i was so far from it. These people—clever, hardworking people tied to their businesses and exceptionally perceptive in their own right—could probably read it in her careful smile, her unresponsive handshakes and the preference for silence to conversation. Other thoughts weighed heavy in her mind, in the realm of the abstract and melancholic. The pattern of the party was far too easy to read; greater challenges occupied her.
It was easier to be captivated by a song. As though the vibrations were on the right wavelength to soothe her into the metre of her thoughts, resonating with her more than a person or shiny bauble could. True awe she experienced in that first beyond the orbit, where reality became too complicated for her mind to behold and in one breathtaking second reality became fantasy. She truly connected when finally she unravelled a great, complex opponent after a long, arduous struggle only to prevail and in a moment feel so certain—that her good triumphed over someone else's evil—before once again the doubts would set in.
So she walked to the gardens to be by herself. She wanted to look at the stars, wanted to pick one and keep flying to its point. It was a silly thought. Still she layed back down against the marble bench, thick black hair splayed out beneath her as red lips parted, white breath puffing toward the night sky and her green eyes looking seemingly nowhere. Everywhere.
“Party that boring?”
“You know how it is.”
She didn't even blink as he stood beside her, his head blocking part of her view of the stars. The magnificence of the universe to yield to Damian's demand for attention. “You're usually better at hiding it.”
“Usually those are charity galas, I usually care at least somewhat for the topic of conversation.”
“That's because you don't appreciate fine art, Grayson.”
“I appreciate how you look tonight.” She threw back, corners lifting to a smile.
That gave him pause. She knew what he wanted to ask, in his own way. He wanted to figure out how she was doing, if she was alright, but they've already had this conversation before. They've danced this dance before. He didn't look at the world in the same way, his thoughts, his needs, they weren't hers, and when she got like this she tended to disappear one way or the other.
She lifted her hand and he took it in his, and she could see his eyes drop to the ring on her finger. “You can tell me all about art later when we're alone.”
“You wouldn't care to listen. You have something more pressing, but I don't know about it.”
Mar'i pulled herself up and he sat down beside her. She drew closer to him and pressed her mouth against his ear.
“The end of the world.”
Last Edit: Nov 5, 2013 20:23:55 GMT -6 by Elenaphant
Post by Elenaphant on Sept 2, 2014 20:33:15 GMT -6
The End of the World
What were the odds the coming of a demon and the end of the world would coincide with your wedding day? What were the odds it would happen twice? These were questions the bride to be asked herself when it was late and she couldn't sleep at night. Her fiancee didn't understand her, which she didn't understand given the kind of world they lived in. Didn't he see what happened around them? Marriages didn't last. It was the privilege of the ignorant; the ones who weren't involved with all of the reality-bending terrors that threatened multiple universes, and the sociopaths who plagued cities and always managed to find a rat-hole to slip into just when pest control finally found a way to contain them. Even they, the mundanes, the every day citizen, had difficulty holding onto a committed relationship if the statistics for divorces were any indication.
He reminded her that she had said yes, and every time she looked to the ring on her finger it also reminded her that when he proposed, she had been in tears. Not tears of a doomed dream, but the realization that something she had wanted was coming to pass and she had been so happy. She wanted the marriage badly, and that's why she was afraid that it would be taken away from her when she was so close to realizing it. Jodi Picoult once said there were two ways to be happy; to improve reality or lower expectations. Mar'i Grayson had been living her life doing the latter. She always anticipated the worst so she could be pleasantly surprised by the best. She had super-strength, was built to survive space and most things deemed lethal, and could destroy cities if she so chose and yet she felt not powerful enough to change her reality. It was her groom-to-be, the scar-ridden, death-defying Damian Wayne who could do none of what made her 'super' but still somehow managed to remain in control of his destiny.
When she put on the veil and turned to face her father, she decided that if she was going to face the end of the world she'd do it in a wedding dress and fighting for what she loved. Yet when she walked down the aisle in his arm and met the man she loved at the alter, their vows went undisturbed. The priest was not ripped brutally apart by a demon. No objections were raised by the crowd. Deathstroke nor any other villain did not barge in party crashing. The only thing that was ruined might have been her mascara when she choked out an 'I do' to a chorus of adoring 'awws'. They kissed in front of all the people that mattered and right there became husband and wife. Everything went as planned, and better. The night was mostly sleepless, but he made sure that she couldn't manage to string together a sentence let alone deeply philosophical questions about the future and the nature of things.
The morning after, another ring on her finger, she traced the lines of her sleeping husband's face and recalled something important that she had missed in all her prior misgivings. When faced with the end of the world, the last thing to die was hope. She didn't know if happiness would last, if this would end up a foregone love, if he would honour his vows or even she hers, but she would remain hoping. She would always keep fighting. He wasn't going to get away from her easy now that he's had her, body and soul.
Last Edit: Sept 2, 2014 20:34:28 GMT -6 by Elenaphant
Post by Elenaphant on Jan 29, 2015 17:29:02 GMT -6
Perhaps Robin was taking a bit after Batman in his lighter days, but far be it for the defensive teen to admit any resemblance to the man who had kicked him out. No, this was an entirely valid idea and he was quite proud to present it to his closest teammates one afternoon. They were fortunately all together in the common room, with the boys and girls separated as the former played video games and the latter chatted over tea at the dining table. They didn't even glance up at him when the doors opened and he stood there expectantly.
“Ahem.” He cleared his throat none too subtly. No response. “A-HEM.” Okay, that got their attention. He straightened again bearing his iconic grin; shoulders back and stance worthy of a leader even if it was all four foot something. “Titans, I want to introduce you to a new member of our circle,” he announced, and then stepped aside with a sweep of his cape. “Meet, ROB-DOG!”
A black lab with a yellow cape and red doggie tunic sat on his haunches. “Arf!”
Starfire inhaled audibly, eyes shining as she zoomed to greet the dog. “Oh hello! Are you not such an adorable canine? Oh yes you are~” she pet the dog who was wagging his tail happily at the attention. Beast Boy joined her shortly.
“Hey! A buddy! Aw man you and I are going to have so much fun, having secret dog conversations.” To prove his point, he changed into a green dog of the same breed, and Rob-Dog the new Titan whined in confusion, tilting his head to one side.
The other two weren't so impressed. “Really?” Raven asked, having gotten up from her chair. Cyborg too, raising his eyebrow.
“Rob-dog? This dog gunna rob people for us?”
“No,” Robin said emphatically. “Rob is obviously short for Robin, and he's trained. Roll over, boy,” he ordered, and the dog did just that. “Good boy!” he took a treat from his belt and offered it to the dog.
Beastboy shifted back into human form. “Uh, Robin, that's a 'she'.”
Surprised, Robin glanced to the green teen for a moment. “Oh,” he said. “That's okay, Robins can be a she,” he shrugged and went back to giving the dog affection. “Good girl,” he corrected. Starfire joined him in showing love to the new Titan and remained rather oblivious to the conversation happening around her as she cooed.
“Look, there's a difference between being trained to do tricks, and trained to fight the bad guys we face. It's a DOG, dude, we can't have a dog for a Titan,” Cyborg argued.
“The police have a canine unit, it's completely plausible,” Robin countered.
“You're not a cop, you're a superhero,” Cyborg retorted.
Robin mumbled darkly.
“If you wanted a pet you could have just said so--”
“Rob-dog is not a pet! He--she is a valued member of our team. All in favour of keping her say Aye,”
“Aye!” Starfire chirped.
“Aye!” Beastboy said quickly, raising his hand, then threw a look over his shoulder to Cyborg. “What? She's cute and it'd be nice to have a dog around.”
“Aye,” Robin concluded. “That settles it, majority rules and Rob-Dog stays.”
Cyborg sighed in defeat. “Whatever man, but when the ASPCA comes round here, you better expect an 'I told you so'.” So he returned to his video game and Starfire squealed in delight.
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Alviss: Darn doesn't show the pic
Apr 18, 2019 7:10:17 GMT -6
force: miss this place. if anyone comes back and sees this, i'm force, i was kid flash here once. you can find me on discord at rook#9485
Jan 12, 2023 13:11:35 GMT -6
The roleplay takes place after the series end of the original Teen Titans animated show, but does not include the movie Trouble in Tokyo. Since then Robin has been on something of a recruiting spree, and many new young heroes have found themselves a home in Jump City as well as Titan Tower.
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