The Honeymoon Period

[-nightwing-.livejournal.com]

Just because the base is officially open doesn't mean the workload's necessarily done. Boxes line hallways and new suites as the permanent members of Titans East move in and take some time to customize their new surroundings. Computer systems are being broken in. More paperwork is required. New emergency protocols and layouts for the compound have to be memorized. The new hydroponic gardens need looking after. Equipment needs testing and setup. Public briefings are required after a mission, and logs need filling out.

The smells of fresh paint and new carpeting, tile and rubber are still vivid, punctuating the air no matter where in the new place one might go.

Somewhere in all that, there should be time for a break, right?

Nightwing hasn't availed himself of the recreational facilities yet. The last weeks have been consumed with the fallout from the Titans' unexpected encounter with Blood and his cronies. Publically, the team is moving on, facing new challenges. Privately, each has taken the experience deeply to heart. He's worried about the effect this mission's had on the fledgling Titans East team, and on its morale as a whole. Eventually, he'll have to debrief Santana, and that's not a prospect he suspects either of them relishes. Wounds have been torn open that only time and support can heal once more. But it'll have to be done, and fairly soon.

It was a pretty personal indulgence to have a trapeze apparatus put in the workout facility, he notes; though its familiar and comforting presence is a godsend at times like this -- when he wants to cut through the swathe of mental detritus and get back to basics. It's exercise for some. For him, it's just another form of meditation.

Never play with another man's toys...especially if he's a demon

[johns-demons.livejournal.com]

The First of the Fallen had a long history with John Constantine. Long for the mortal involved any way if only a brief, yet embarassingly painful moment for the demon. Their first meeting had involved tricking the First into imbibing holy water. The relationship had gone down hill from there.

The hatred between John and Zatanna had been his divising. They were his current project and John Constantine was a long term investment. As amusing as it was that Constantine had sold his ex-lovers soul to free his own because of the First's manipulation he couldn't allow the situation stand without getting something out of it for himself.

After all he was the First of the Fallen, he didn't believe in letting people use his toys without paying for it.

He's been invited into Shadowcrest before so his entry is without any alarms for now. He appears sitting on a chair facing Papa Midnight without fanfare and smiles.

"I believe we need to talk."

I was drowning my sorrows but they learned to swim

[femme-du-chat.livejournal.com]

He was supposed to teach Selina magic.

Problem was, John had a short attention span and there was only so much he could take in a day. He was supposed to be the mystic, not some guy dumped in a mundane body teaching someone else to do it. That was not what all this carefully gathered information was for damn it.

He needed a god damn drink.

He needed not to have to wear a bra.

He hated fucking Karma with a passion.

So he'd ditched Selina and headed out to get the drink without having to watch her mope around in his body anymore. He looked fucking old and it was depressing.

"Give me a pint." And damn it he was going to have to actually pay for his drinks. That little realization pushed him past brooding straight on into pouting as he sat there on the barstool scowling at the world.

Women Seem Wicked

[delphic-child.livejournal.com]

Lily is never truly alone. The cacophony is constant. Other voices from distances both far and near fill her head. Knowledge of places and things random. To the discordance, there is no order. Nor is there ever silence. At the best of times, she manages to suppress the noise to nearly a whisper. At the worst of times, the flood gates burst open and reduce her to tears.

The rest of the time? She grooves.

The Doors can improve just about any situation. The volume is cranked as far as it'll go. The headphones are larger than life. The record is spinning smoothly. There is nothing to be heard beyond the mind numbingly good music of Morrison, Manzarek, Densmore, and Krieger. The base is enough to shake the walls.

Tom Petty sang it best...

[sand-hawkins.livejournal.com]

...the waiting is the hardest part.

A million thoughts are going through Sand's mind.  Are they OK?  Is SHE OK?  Will they find her?

He checks his watch.  Yep, they've been gone 10 seconds.

"Anyone know any good parlor games?  I don't think everyone here's into Civ4."

Wake-up Call

[-nightwing-.livejournal.com]

It's just after 8:30am. Blüdhaven's morning light fights its perennial battle with the drapes in the Graysons' bedroom, fingers snaking past their borders to slant across the bed. For all intents and purposes, a normal enough morning after a particularly tough night, which didn't see Dick arrive home until after six. The bruises are still fresh, the scrapes still raw under their dressings. Dodging bullets takes its toll: he's out to the world and intending to sleep until noon.

Until, that is, a small hand pats his face. Then again. Once that doesn't get his immediate attention, the pat turns into a pinch of his cheek.

He rolls over, absently brushing an arm over his face to combat the unwanted attention. Physical prodding proving to be unsuccessful, it's now accompanied by a familiar voice.

It's hard for a parent to ignore, even as exhausted as he is. He turns back over, eyes barely opening to behold what stands at the bedside.

....

His vision's blurred, and he narrows his eyes, then blinks again, sleep crusting the lids. What the...

...

Dick leans over the bed, peering closely at the toddler, who responds with a radiant smile. Daddy's awake!

Then, hoarsely, he calls out:

"....Babs? Why is our daughter white?"