CONTROL.

“wh  —  no,  you  didn’t!”   hands on her hips, artemis storms towards into the kitchen and glares at the messy little diagram they’d drawn on the back of a take-out sushi menu and stuck to the fridge. “you little shit. you changed the chart!” 

          The temptation to simply dismiss her teammate’s whining is strong, bordering on IRRESISTIBLE, but in her heart, Raven knows that would be futile. Terra’s prying would ensue. Maybe not on the same level of ‘ annoying ‘ as their resident changeling, but annoying, nevertheless. 

          She sighs testily, as she lowers her book and sets it atop her lap. Not that Terra minded disturbing her at this point; impending boredom probably outweighed dealing with her surly attitude. 

          So naturally, Raven would show no mercy.

          She frowns once their eyes meet, eyebrows pinching as she delivers her s i g n a t u r e reply to being bothered,

          ❝ What? ❞ 

so, a pretty predictable response. score one for terra, right? except she’s still pouting from her spot on the sofa, sorely aware of the dry sweat sticking her curls to her cheeks and the back of her neck. which, like, doesn’t have anything to do with raven but -- 

she looked comfortable sitting there beneath that dark cloak of hers, as if the heat weren’t bothering her at all. and she’s reading -- actually reading a thick ass book instead of one of those teen magazines terra likes to sometimes pocket from the 7-11 near the warehouses slade usually makes her meet him at. 

terra breathes out the loudest, most soul-striking sigh she can muster. it could almost give beast boy a run for his money. 

it’s not hard to spot an intruder; the front door is open, and a fresh pair of shoe prints have cleaned up spots of his porch. all that — and how fucking loud they’re being.  the fluorescent light of his fridge outlines a set of frantic movements, and too slim and grimy of a figure to be someone from the garrison.

keith grips his knife, but leaves it at his side.

“turn around.”  whether or not keith’s caught them off guard means little to him when he can’t help but think of all the food they might’ve already gone through.

her head pops out of the fridge -- away from the sweet release of cold, cold air, the beautiful reprieve from the oppressive, villainous desert heat -- and she’s staring at a kid with haircut almost as sad as hers. 

she shoves another pizza roll in her mouth. 

“nuh  —  uh,  missy.  it’s your turn to clean the fridge.” ╱ @seismicfault. 

more importantly: a working fridge. 

my main verse from this point on will be post-things change. terra is a high school student attending murakami high school going by the alias emily jones. any interactions will have her introducing herself as such. 

dick had woken as soon as he heard tara pull the window up. it wasn’t a surprise. he still couldn’t bring himself to lock the window at night, despite his insistence that this – whatever this was – had to stop. maybe because locking it probably wouldn’t make a difference anyway.

he contemplates just lying there, wondering what tara would do. would she slip into bed and wrap her arms around him from behind, just like she used to do when they were younger? the memories, even now, make his chest ache. 

tara knows him well enough to know that she’d have woken him up, though. with a resigned sigh, he rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling as he addresses her. “hello, tara. do you think there will ever come a day where you actually listen to me?”

she shifts so that she can sit on the window frame, both feet firmly planted on the floor, hands gripping against the edge. her body just barely blocks the outside city lights. the sliver of illumination catches his hair, his profile. 

“i mean, that was pretty rare even when we were together. it’d probably be weird if i started now, don’t cha think?” she’s careful to keep her tone light, but her shoulders tense nonetheless. 

the room looks just about the same as the last time she was here, but it’s harder to tell in the dark if he’s made any changes. it’s only been two weeks. unlikely that he drastically changed his room, but there’s still a part of her expecting to show up one day and find the place littered with moving boxes.