Conner was not okay.

I could sense it a mile off.

The same terrible stench of not-right-ness had hung around Superman.

And I had a feeling I knew what that was.

Damian being Damian, had greeted Conner with the same distaste and general loathing that he generally treated everyone he didn't know (and everyone he did know but didn't like).

Honestly, I didn't know if he sensed what I did, or that he simply didn't care, but I thought it was best that I didn't drift in to the shadows and let Damian deal with this one largely on his own.

Besides, I figured there was much more in common between Conner and my stubborn idiot of a boyfriend. Because there was one thing that I found at the heart of Superboy's bright, bubbly aura:

Pain.

And if my suspicions were correct, also major daddy issues.

Join the club.

But Superman wasn't like Batman, or my dearest dad in the least. It was his kindness that overwhelmed me, when I first met him properly- when I first spoke to him. It had been like meeting Kori all over again, just as warm and just as alien. Meeting him, it felt like the word 'Uncle' should be forever and always before 'Clark'.

The kind of man that had a diet consisting solely of meatloaf and apple pie, who called people 'chum', or kids 'sport'.

There was a darkness to him, certainly (just as there resides a darkness within all creatures) and unlike Batman, for whom the darkness shaped his aura, Superman's lay deep deep within him. So far down, and so small, that almost definitely it would never crawl to the top.
Almost.

I've come to learn that true, pure good is always corruptible, with the correct motivation.

I wonder what Superman's motivation would be.

Shit, I'm getting away with myself. Ugh, spiralling into random thoughts about mortality- probably related to my wonderful empathic abilities.

I should get back on track.

Picking off from Conner's random offer of training with him, I forced Damian in to saying yes -intent on explaining it to him later.

With those terrible green eyes of his, he tore in to me, stripping me down to pinpoint my reasoning. They were distracting- enticing- and I almost forgot why they were staring at me. And then I didn't, I remembered, and I explained in a simple firm glance that we would talk about it later.

He was fed up. He huffed, and rolled his eyes. And it was hot: the weather, and him. Dreadfully, incredibly, frustratingly, hot.

I had found out, a few hours before, why he always smelled so gorgeously like cinnamon and apples. It was the body wash and shampoo. Ridiculously arab, Damian insisted on buying his own soaps- bar soaps that were shaped like blocks, wielding their cleansing suds only after vigorous rubbing under water- and the ones he bought were cinnamon scented. He did, however, concede to the West on shampoo- giving in to the apple and vanilla scented product.

It felt odd picturing Damian walking down a shopping aisle, picking up deodorants, ramen and whatever else people buy from the store. Perusing the contents of a Target and smelling of cinnamon and apples. I would quite like to have gone shopping with him.

He probably smelled nicer than me, and I was quite happy with that, because it's wonderful to cuddle something warm that smells like a Christmas candle. Or someone.

I've only just realised, but the way I speak to Damian seems so much more like the way I actually think (or talk to myself), than other people: even Kori and Jaime. I don't speak as...emotionally or expressly. I don't tend to make jokes, that aren't dry, or talk about how I feel. It's part of the whole, being closed to people because you don't know who you can trust and it's better to be safe than hurt yourself thing, I believe- even with the rest of the Titans. They feel world away right now. None of them are my boyfriend though (Azar, that's still so weird to say- a good sort of weird, don't get me wrong).

Boyfriend or not, Damian is different. He understands. He knows. And he doesn't judge- not me at least.

My father. His mother.
Pride. The League of Assassins.
Fuck birthrights. Fuck destiny.

...

Oh but what if? What if!

What if we had stayed?
Mummy's little monster and daddy's girl?

I don't want to think about it, though I know I'll fall in to that pit eventually; it's too tempting wondering at the possibilities.

But we need to get back to Conner before I start debating the pros and cons of letting dad out for a stroll.

"YES CHILD UNLEASH ME SO THAT I MA-"

Shut up.

So...Conner...

I can admit (since I have nothing to lose in confessing) it was fun to have Superboy around from my own, selfish perspective. Because, well, it was quite amusing seeing him all flustered. As an empath, I was witness to the mutiny of Conner's aura. It makes me laugh now just thinking about it- I suppose that's quite mean.

Kon totally had the hots for Damian- well, us.

Maybe a little more for Damian: blame the jawline, it's hard to compete with that.

And it was hilarious.

Of course I didn't let that show but I was certain to create some chaos out of this- it was too good an opportunity to ignore. And judging by the lack of it entering conversation, Kon didn't know we were already in a relationship. Child's play.

Fuck, I need to progress this story a little- the amount of times I've gotten myself sidetracked is borderline shameful. I'm supposed to be completely in control of the going-ons of my mind.

So, training.

I forced Damian to say yes.

We trekked down to the training room, Damian silently communicating his infuriation (adorable).

Conner attempted to (presumably) 'coolly' glide besides us but ended up hitting his head on the door on his way in. Considering he was dressed in his regular Superboy costume but had forgotten to take off his borrowed slippers (a pair of Jason's if I'm not mistaken), Kon was not doing great: my suave-meter gaged that he was about a thousand kilo-suaves away from being suave.

Ew, I've used that word too much. It sounds weird.

Suave.

Ugh.

Still, I wondered if Damian noticed the way Kon was looking at him. I recognised that look. I'd be lying if I said I didn't give Damian that look from time to time.
There's just something about that jawline...mmm...

Anyway...

We met Jason on the corridor where the training room sat. We'd been too late in fore-stepping him. Or he'd come a little early.

Jason shoved Damian and Kon in the , "Oh no no you little shits- and Raven- you're not fücking with my training time. B's finally away and I'm not wasting this opportunity to test out these bad boys." Meaning 'these guns strapped to my waist'.

Jason reached for the old door handle.

His fingers closed on air as Kon had opened the door a split-second earlier.

I knew he shouldn't have done that.

Damian and I sat down on the nearest bench, inside the room, and waited for Jason to finish his bullets (just our luck, he had a lot of extra ammo).

"Please Mr Jason- I mean, Mr Hood- stop shooting me, it doesn't hurt and I-" Conner was cut off by Jason sucker-punching him right in the face. It was glorious.

I must admit, of all the humans I've met, Jason Todd has a special place in my esteem: I admire a person who gives so few shits in life.

Jason and Constantine would get along like peas in a pod- which is exactly why I ensure they're kept far far apart.

Conner felt that punch. And I felt it through the impact in the air. Besides me, Damian didn't try to mask his snickering (the bastard), his amusement doubling as Kon shoved Jason- Kryptonian strength sending him flying in to the wall.

There was the imprint of a body left in the wall when Jason fell down- Mister Wayne and Alfred would not be happy about that, even if Damian was. And the situation was clearly about to escalate significantly with Conner beginning to lose his temper (which was not something I'd seen before or something I wanted to experience at that moment).

I made a move to get up, but Damian held my upper arm, whispering, "Hold on. I want to see who'll win."

My boyfriend's crafty little smile stopped me from interfering- I know, he hit me in a weak spot with that smirk, what do you want me to do about it? Damian's happiness has a knock-on effect, regardless of the motivators.

A few seconds passed before Damian ducked, faced flying dumbbells whose trajectory had been his head. Spotting the mortal danger he was in, I raised my hand and stopped the weights just before they would have rammed in to his brains. You're welcome.

Jaw slack, my dear idiot tapped my shoulder and I lowered the dumbbells, "Perhaps it is time to intervene."

No shit Sherlock.

Honestly, I understand his genius intellect in terms of academia (oh great, I've started talking like Damian too, at this point I should just stick a monocle on and start wearing waistcoats) but when it comes to life skills like self-preservation that boy has no tact.

Thankfully I didn't have to play peace-maker (my patience wouldn't have managed it), because a Scouse accent and small portal materialised in the centre of the conflict, putting an end to it.

The one and only Constantine poked his head out of the portal- surprisingly small, less than a metre in diameter. He looked from Jason on the floor, to Kon near the ceiling, and finally to the two of us on the bench. He retracted his head and stuck his hand out of the portal (it looked more like a window, hanging in midair) pointing a finger at Damian.

"You! Come 'ere. We need that god."

Constantine had gone with the Justice League- with Batman, Superman and Dick- to deal with a threat we knew nothing about. The god that Constantine was talking about was Anubis- they needed Anubis.

Which meant that Superman, Wonderwoman, The Martian Manhunter and so on, all of them had failed. Or all of them weren't enough.

I did panic, for a fleeting moment.
But rationality has an annoying habit of not letting me be irrational.

"I'm coming too." Of course I was. Like I said, Damian's self-preservation skills need work.

"Wait wait! What's going on?" Kon floated down and inspected the portal. "What's happening?"

Constantine stuck his head out again and huffed, "Look I haven't got time to explain, but there's a god here- bloody powerful one- and we need some godly power of our own." He ducked back in, coming out a moment later to add, "And as for anyone else tagging along, well, I'm not wasting my time talking anyone out of it, but I'm not taking responsibility for any accidents. Now COME ON!"

In that strange, magical way that he always does, Damian ducked out of the room and reappeared seconds later in his Robin uniform (how does he do that? I'm sure he's made some kind of deal with a faerie or witch, because that's just not natural). His aura had jolted from John's request, though his face masked the shock.

Jason, pulling himself up and sticking his guns in his waistband, eyed the blonde in the portal, "Fuck it, might as well. I've got nothing better to and this sounds more fun than hanging with Timmy the twig."

Fucking mood, but okay.

"Who's Timmy?" No one answered Conner. Poor boy.

Constantine widened the portal so that it was about as high as your average door, and motioned us all in. He spared Kon's slippers a dubious look: at which point Superboy zoomed off and was back a second later, boots on and face flushed.

I didn't know what waited on the other side of the portal, but the shouts and gunshots were enough to make the hairs on the back of my neck stand (even if those were sounds I was used to hearing in combat). Damian's apprehension was more than mine, and I reached out for his hand. We nodded a silent 'fuck it, I guess we're doing this then' and I dropped his hand.

Ashamedly I'll admit, I missed his warmth as soon as I let it go. Stupid love.

"Hurry up you lot!" John ushered.

One by one, we passed through to his side, not ready for the carnage that we would be faced with.

A.N:

So that was Raven's POV...how did you guys find it??
What do you think's going to happen next?
Why is Jason such a mood?

And who is this oh so mysterious Timmy????

Thank youuu <3

***rant incoming***

I would also like to say a few words about the inhumane and barbaric shooting of Jacob Blake by US police. He was shot in the back seven times in front of his children. He posed no threat to the police. This is the norm in America and that is unacceptable. Defunding of the absurdly militarised police force is desperately needed to redistribute and reallocate resources to the sectors that actually need it.

I want to cry and scream and gouge my eyeballs out when I see 'blue lives matter' people and apologists who always jump to asking 'but what was the context tho' or who try to dig up victim's records to try and make the police's actions seem justified as judge jury and executioner. It's even more laughable when it comes from supposedly 'religious' or 'devout' Christians. Dude have you even remotely read the Bible? Do you actually think Jesus would support murdering people due to racial profiling??? Seriously?

But also have you, dear American Christian Capitalists actually properly read the Bible? 'It is easier for a camel to pass through the head of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven' my dear capitalist faithful American Christians. Or that if a man steals your jacket, give him your coat too? Or that if a man strikes your cheek, turn the other to him so that he may strike that one too?
Fighter for the poor and paupers and the neglected, that was Jesus.

So how does that fit in with exploiting the working class for profit? 🙂🙂 just kill me now. Please. I'm so doneeeee

***

Okay fuck. Rant over. Damnnnn I need to take some time to just breatheeeee. I'm over here ranting about Jesus and capitalism and BLM...holy fuck man....

Sorry guys, I just have a lot to say and no one to actually say it to. Please excuse me and my enthusiasm, I'm going to go and scream in to a pillow now.

Goodnight my darlings.