#{ silence and shadow is what I adore

[slash-em-up]

Killer First Date: Asa Emory x Tiffany Valentine

What now???? WHAT NOW??? Some slasher x slasher shipping from yours truly???? Holy shit.

Yeah, I know, but in my defense Tiff and Asa are both BABIES and let’s be real they’d have so much in common!!

As usual @voorheehees and @slashermom are completely responsible for this - they should know by now not to indulge my crazy ramblings because it WILL turn into a fic.

——————————————————-

Asa was having possibly one of the worst nights of his life.

He let out a deep sigh through his nose as the buzzer rang and he rose, leaving his current ‘date’ and moving slowly to the next seat.

He checked ‘Helen Waltz’ off his list of potential matches. Though she obviously found her pseudo-pyramid scheme tupperware business fascinating, he did not.

The university was sponsoring a Speed Dating night for the faculty – and as a senior member of the Entomology department, Asa was obliged to attend.

The event was held at a local bar, nothing fancy; but full of a variety of people looking for a drink, or food, or- on this particular evening - a love connection.

Asa wanted to murder them all.

If he had to explain to one more person what Entomology was (then consequently watch their face scrunch up in confusion or disgust), he felt like he just might snap.

He kept his eyes on the wooden boards at his feet and marched towards the next two-person table like he was walking to his own execution.

“You look like I feel, honey.”

An oddly high-pitched and raspy voice spoke up from across the laminate surface.

Asa’s eyes slowly rose from the floor, up to a pair of sky-high black stilettos, attached to fishnet-clad legs, and finally to a smirking, attractive face crowned by a pale blonde up-do.

“I’m Tiffany Valentine.”

“Dr. Asa Emory.”

Tiffany raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“Doctor, huh? Wanna have a seat, Doctor?”

Asa sat.

Tiffany smiled, her painted lips stretching attractively, showing off her dimples.

“So… what’s your pitch?”

Taken aback, Asa’s brow furrowed.

“Excuse me?”

“Your pitch – your selling points; the things that make you interesting – what makes you better than every other Tom, Dick, and Harry in here. I’m your fifth date, I bet you’ve got it down to a science by now, right Doc?”

Silence filled the space between them.

Tiffany giggled.

“Ok, I’ll start. I’m semi-recently divorced, looking to try something new after ten years of someone who didn’t appreciate me like he should have. I like reading about the occult, watching late-night surgery shows, and I have a pet tarantula named Charlotte Jr. – your turn.”

“…. Why Charlotte Jr.?”

“Because Charlotte Sr. died after I took off to be with my ex… and I don’t think it’s fair that men are the only ones who get to name their children after themselves.”

“Fair enough... I’m a doctor of Entomology at the university, it’s the –“

“Ooo insects! Do you have a favorite? I’ve always liked the giant centipede, you know the one in the Amazon? Did you know it’s venomous enough to kill a person?”

Asa sat up straighter in his chair, eyes focusing in on Tiffany’s face, which was practically glowing with excitement.

He slowly began speaking.

“I’ve always appreciated how they climb cave ceilings to catch bats. They’re not quite venomous enough to kill someone my size, or yours; but they’ve killed at least one human child before.”

Tiffany bit her lip, smiling at Asa as he began going into detail about some of the more fascinating insects from the Amazon.

Once Asa got on the topic of tropical spiders, Tiffany began to chime in with her own knowledge, more than happy to ask questions and listen to Asa give a thesis-level answer to even the most inane question she posed, never making her feel like she was dumb for not knowing something – she was honestly having the best time she’d had all night watching this adorably awkward man go on and on about trap-door spiders and his own pet tarantulas.

She practically melted when Asa quietly confessed that he’d named his favorite tarantula Petunia.

The conversation carried on until the ending buzzer sounded.

Tiffany pouted, having just started her own story about feeding Charlotte Jr. her first baby mouse.

Asa made no move to rise from his chair, even as the man who’d been seated at the table next to theirs cleared his throat and tapped his foot, already making eyes at Tiffany (who noticed his bloodshot eyes never rose above her cleavage).

Tiffany decided to take matters into her own, manicured hands.

“Hey, Asa. Wanna go get a drink somewhere?”

The man across the table blinked; but slowly nodded, rising, as his replacement spluttered in indignation from the side.

Mr. Pervert shut his mouth pretty quickly once Asa stood, a full head taller, and all thick muscle where Perv was simply thick.

Tiffany stood as well, giving a surprised giggle as Asa grabbed her jacket and helped her in before offering her his elbow.

“What a gentleman.”

Asa gave her a small smile, and they both stepped out the bar door.

They walked in companionable silence through the side-alley, moseying in no particular hurry towards Asa’s car a couple blocks away.

However, soon the silence of the evening was interrupted by an unwanted interloper.

“Hey, man, gimme your wallet!”

Tiffany gasped as a thin, dirty man lunged at them from the shadows, brazenly holding a rusted switch blade in the couples direction.

She felt Asa stiffen beside her, poor man, probably scared out of his mind.

She imagined entomologists didn’t see a lot of violence other than the circle of life kind…

Asa slowly pushed her behind him, obviously trying to place himself in the way of the robber and his knife.

Tiffany took the opportunity to gingerly slide her sharpened nail file into her palm, waiting for a clear shot at the man.

He’d picked the wrong lady to mess with.

Tiffany sighed internally.

Well, here goes her night. She suspected murder would be a pretty big turn-off for the large man circling their attacker, keeping her close to his back.

She could not have been more surprised when Asa suddenly sprung at the would-be thief, grabbing the smaller mans knife-hand in his own and quickly twisting him to the ground.

Abruptly, the tables were turned, and Asa was baring down on the miscreants throat with his own knife, seemingly deaf to the mans pleas for mercy.

Asa’s eyes were feral and shining oddly in the flickering yellow light of the alleyway as he raised his gaze to Tiffany.

‘Oh…’ Tiffany realized with a tremor of excitement ‘…Maybe not such an innocent boy after all…’

A loud yell from behind her made Tiffany whirl just in time to see a second man charging at Asa from down the alleyway.

She moved quickly to intercept him and threw her arm out towards the mans throat, sharp metal gleaming.

Blood spurted from the mans neck, and he stumbled – clutching uselessly at his severed artery.

Tiffany turned just in time to see the switchblade enter the prostrate mans eye, as Asa bared his teeth and let out a low growl.

Tiffany shuddered and let out a shaky breath.

Holy shit.

Asa crouched over the now lifeless body for a moment more before rising like some dark death god. His black turtleneck shone with wet blood in the low light as he spun to face Tiffany, measured breath making his shoulders rise and fall.

He stared at the bloody corpse at Tiffany’s feet.

Tiffany swallowed hard.

“Was that your first time?”

Asa’s intense gaze never left hers as he slowly shook his head – no, not even close.

Heels pressed hard into the chilling body at her feet, rolling him onto his back as she grinned.

“Me neither.”

Asa blinked, the only show of surprise he gave at the unexpected confession.

“Wanna go get that drink and talk about it?”

The large man moved forward, coming to a halt in front of Tiffany, eyeing her with curiosity and a small amount of suspicion.

“I really would.”

Tiffany smirked and threaded her arm back through Asa’s, unconcerned with the blood soaking onto her leather jacket.

“Lead on, handsome.”

[dyketectivecomics]

Retrieval - Ch. 11

SURPRISE BITCHES. BETCHA THOUGHT YOU’D SEE THE LAST OF THIS.

(Read on AO3) (No actually, maybe go ahead and reread everything on ao3, since its been SO DAMN LONG ooooof) (also everyone keep in mind that the chap under the cut doesnt have italic edits in bc its 3k & also 1 am and i don't have time for that. just go ahead and read it on ao3 unless you already have an idea of whats going on at this stage in the fic lmao)

@squiddybeifong it’s ur turn finally, love <3, def take ur time and i cant WAIT to see your thoughts on this haha 

...

Grotesque as each of the demons were, Raven remembered barely keeping them straight from one another. All sharp teeth and disfigured skin, some sported facsimiles of regency fashion, while others chose to hide themselves in as few layers as possible. Try as she might, she recalled the eyes most clearly, in hues of reds, oranges and yellow, all burning with the sins of the souls they had claimed over the eons.

The one who had called her here, a brother without a name. (At least without a name yet, as that would come a decade later, when she most needed to name and defeat these demons with Titans by her side.) No, this demon that could not be properly named stood to his full height, towering over the others as he snapped his claw-like fingers to gain their attention, silencing their jeering at the destruction the portal showed.

"Enough of that nonsense," he droned, as if somehow bored of the chaos and devastation. "While Father is distracted, we have but one chance to settle this nasty business. What are we to do with sister dearest?"

There was much grumbling among the demons as they took seats around this circle, the visage of Azarath's last moments disappearing from view forever with a distinct pop and crackle. Raven could feel once again the ghost of Zatanna's reassuring hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently in empathy. She couldn't tell if it was better, or worse, never knowing what had transpired.

She certainly knew more than before, just enough to get a clearer picture than so many years of guesswork had lead her down. But it left a hollow feeling in her chest, as those certainties were closed off forever now.

Maybe it had been too much to hope for, to know exactly what Azarath's last moments were like. Or maybe it was too cruel to wish for the burden of such knowledge, even when one had prepared themselves for it. How disheartening, to have gone to so much trouble, only to be stopped so short.

"We can't kill her, much as I'm loathe to share any more 'an I already have to with you lot," a smaller demon piped up to Raven's left. She'd forgotten, in her reverie, just where her attention should truly lay. "But that doesn't mean we can't have our fun."

There was a murmur through the group, a mixed reaction but no true agreements or dissents. Raven could feel something swelling up in her stomach, but she reached for Zatanna's hand on her shoulder, squeezing it back and quelling the feeling.

She knew she'd made it to Constantine's apartment relatively unscathed. Like rereading an old favorite book, she remembered the end even without needing to remember everything that occurred in between. Whatever they had in mind, try as they might have, these petty demons hadn't harmed her much. She was strong enough to survive it then, she was powerful enough to endure it now.

Though, with how the hellfire that was starting to play tricks on her eyes, a part of her wondered just how much longer she'd be forced to endure it. In the furthest reaches, it shone a bit too hot, blinding if she let her eyes stray there for too long.

"The important thing I want to know is; how much fun can we have without Trigon letting on about it? And without interfering too deeply with his plans?"

"Doesn't he need the girl as an emissary to Earth and other planes?" one quipped back, "That would mean we can't keep her here, not long at any rate."

"Then it'd be best to act soon, lest he send her away before we have-"

A low rumble went through the group, all collectively groaning as they felt the same call. Raven remembered hearing a voice, faint, as if it spoke through layers of cotton. It was strange to her then, but familiar now, the cockiness and sly flow of mocking decorum. Constantine's most casual of ways, of summoning sworn enemies forth, to make the most backhanded of bargains.

Though, some of what he was saying... didn't particularly seem to resonate with what would have been said in such circumstances. And out of the corner of her eye, Raven watched as that white-hot light broke through a stalactite or two, eating away at the scene. Inevitable, but much slower than before. She knew now, for certain, that time was limited, much as she'd fought successfully against it so far.

She could hold it off just a tad longer.

"The Hellblazer's onto us, gentlemen," one of the demons sighed, resigned to what was to come. "Any volunteers?"

The group laughed, and Raven remembered taking a few shy steps back, naively thinking this an opportunity to sneak away, before more than a few sets of eyes settled on her.

"Why not send our little sister to him?" the eldest sneered, "It's beneath us to answer such a droll summons. It would be amusing to see him throw her back to us like a fisherman does a minnow."

Laughter bubbled around Raven, too-wide smiles and menacing glints in eyes and teeth. The feeling of self-satisfied, low-burning rage and an anticipation for harm to come.

She knew, then, that anywhere they would want to send her, anywhere that she wasn't in control of sending herself to, would not be a place she'd want to go. And much too late, she tried to make a dash to get away.

She screamed as she felt sharp claws sinking into her arms and delighted laughter reached a fever pitch around her. Everything began growing much brighter and more charged than before, as her body was burning the last of this nightmarish high.

She watched as a few of her brothers slashed into the air around them, tearing reality itself apart as they searched for the best rift to send her tumbling through.

...

The air temperature dropped drastically as John felt his daughter's mood shift, something tightening in his chest and tears welling in his eyes. His heart hammered in his chest, fear at the forefront of it all. He glanced up to see Asa holding her own against Raven's projections better than he did, wiping away a droplet before focusing her hands, once more on checking Zatanna's aura.

"I call upon Saint Christopher, that he may protect in their travels..."

It was a long shot, but when a demonologist has exhausted all of the runes and rituals at his disposal, sometimes a hope and a prayer were all that were left. And Constantine was currently running down the long list of every deity and figure of power that he could scarcely remember.

The classic Catholic routes were always the first to go.

His tone took a more urgent tune as he watched his daughter clench her fists and let out an ear-splitting scream.

"I call upon Saint Michael, to protect in this battle..."

He could only hope that these prayers and practices weren't coming too late.

...

As Zatanna felt the chill of Raven's powers as the empath's consciousness finally awoke, the sorceress tried turning over a happier memory in her own mind.

Sending Raven back to reality in this state now wouldn't do them any good. Fear and anger and hate lingering on her soul. It would, at best, wreck John's apartment.

At worst, it could level New York.

As those demons, shadows of memories long past, opened that fateful portal to John's apartment, so similar and yet a striking difference to how it was now, answering a summons that none wanted to bother themselves with, Zatanna focused all her energy into channeling that memory of her own. One that she couldn't be sure Raven shared. It seemed so far away, and such a small thing.

Of a tiny seven-year-old, in her halloween costume, dressed as the most adorable witch San Francisco would ever see, and receiving a tickling of a lifetime as her mother teased her. The memory of peals of laughter from the sorceress and squeals of protest from the young empath rang in her ears, louder now than the demons laughter, that was slowly fading away from them as Raven's small form was sent through that portal. Zatanna could only do her best to follow close after her.

Slowly, her grip on the girl’s hand loosened, until she lost it completely in their free fall. The sorceress watched helplessly as Raven fell further down ahead of her, the memory still at the periphery of her own mind.

She could see as the portal closed, how time shifted everything inside of that apartment. The couch's color dimmed, showing its wear and its age. Grooves in the floor grew from so many rearrangements of furniture and space. She could see Constantine sitting watch over her and Raven's bodies, and noted that the Nightmare Nurse's aid had been enlisted.

And all too quickly, that vision faded.

As everything dimmed around her, she thought she could hear Raven's voice as she knew it now, deep throaty laughter bubbling out around it, replacing those high-pitched squeals from before.

Everything became blackness once more.

...

As laughter escaped from his daughter's lips, Constantine paid Asa's concerned protests no mind, rushing again to his daughter's side as her powers sparked electrically around them. That shift in the air, like ozone and pressure before a thunderstorm, was one he recognized when a too-sudden, too-extreme mood shift occurred for the empath. When her powers were stuck playing catch-up as they drifted from menacing shadows to dangerously cheery sparks.

"Raven, I need you to breathe for me, darling," he begged, "Find your center again, luv."

His focus was solely on his daughter, as her laughter slowly died, the snickers giving way to breathless gasps. When she began to still in his arms and as her breathing began to return back to normal, he finally registered the Nightmare Nurse's frantic cries.

"-She's not responding, John. Zatanna's not waking up."

...

"Give up?" Zatanna asked with a gleam in her eyes and a sly smile on her lips. The witch before her pouted, giving the most adorable glare that the sorceress had seen in her life.

"Never," she said, and her voice held all of the self-assurance of a spellcrafter well beyond her so few years of experience.

Zatanna only smiled wider. "You asked for it, then."

She tickled the little witch for a second time, laughing alongside her shouts and giggles. That accent that she was picking up from Constantine was more prominent, now that she’d spent the better part of the year with him. And it was positively adorable as well. "No! Mummy, stop!"

"Admit it!" she laughed, "Admit that you're the most adorable little witch!"

It was true, objectively speaking. The girl's dress and hat were tailored with kitschy patches, buttons that seemed comically large and cartoonish pockets that were even bigger than one would think. All of the makings of a perfect Halloween costume. All she was missing, at the moment, were practical tennies for trick-or-treating.

This was where one of several points of argument for the evening had begun, as Raven had insisted, in her seven-year-old wisdom, that her dance flats were needed to complete the look. Something Zee had been unsuccessful, thus far, in swaying her opinion on.

At least until she’d started the teasing, and followed through on her threat of tickling.

"I'm-" she was breathless, gasping for air, but giggling all between, "I'm- not! I'm a- I'm a scary-! A scary witch!"

With that final shout, Zatanna paused in her tickling as Raven sent a shock through her skin. A light zap of her powers, but nothing like the unsettling chill she had felt earlier when the girl refused to admit to fears and doubts about the holiday festivities her mother had planned. It was a welcome change, if unexpected.

"You're right," Zee chuckled in assent, carefully picking the girl up and carrying her from the room, "And since you're clearly the most terrifying thing out and about tonight, that must mean you'll be able to protect me from all of the ghouls and goblins out there tonight?"

The girl puffed out her chest, grinning wide as she adjusted her hat. "No monsters will get past me, mummy! I promise!"

The magician could only smile and hold the girl in a tight embrace. "Thanks, Blackbird. I feel safer already. But you know what will help me feel-?"

But just as the sorceress set the girl down again, before she had even finished the question as she turned around in this fairly mundane memory, she could feel that sense of presence slipping. Her once familiar home in San Francisco fading away in a blur and a blank. An expanse before her that could be filled with anything.

This Raven wasn’t the one she entered this world with. Her daughter was no longer in this plane between consciousness and dreams, where memories made their home. 

And that terrifying reality was starting to settle in.

“-the most... safe?” she finished asking, in trepidation.

A shiver creeped quickly down her spine, as another memory took her away, unbidden.

…

“I have to go back for her,” the empath protested, sitting up at once as the Nightmare Nurse’s words fully registered. She felt the blood rush just as quickly away from her head, and lay back down immediately to stop the dizziness.

“You’d need at least an hour of recovery, kiddo,” Asa laughed bitterly, “At least you would, if you were human.”

“I’ll be fine in a minute. Just give me a second.”

“Like bleedin’ hell you’re going back,” John growled, “Asa, you hold ‘er, luv. I’ll be going in-”

“Dad, pots!” Her tone and intention had the brit slowly freezing right in place against his will. Try as he might to fight her, he never had quite the same level of resolve that Raven had. 

But, he supposed, that’s just how fathers and daughters seemed to operate. A father always willing to give his girl the world. And never being able to deny her, even when it was in her best interest.

“It has to be me, dad,” Raven sighed. “I pulled her in. I need to be the one to pull her out.”

Constantine swallowed the lump forming in his throat, teeth slow to unclench as he asked, “Promise me you’ll be safe? That you’ll get out soon as you reach her?”

Raven’s own indigo eyes leveled at his piercing blue ones, her stomach dropping as she lied, “I promise.”

…

She felt calmer when she opened her eyes again, her breathing shallow and soft, her body curled as tightly in on itself as she could stand. She felt a sharp pinch of happiness, and a dull sting of longing, when she heard her father’s voice. And she remembered, another small memory that had meant so much more to her over the years.

"Now just where did my princess run off to," Giovanni mused as he glanced around his daughter's room. He made extra sure not to take any special notice of some particularly lumpy and giggling pillows that lay on her bed.

"Hmm, how strange," he sighed with extra, cartoonish emphasis, "How odd that my daughter would learn to pull such a thorough disappearing act before I could teach her it myself. Alas!" He gave a cry, before falling back onto her bed. "Perhaps if I were to take a nap upon her bed, I could dream of where she has run off to!"

He adjusted himself carefully atop that oh-so-lumpy cushioning, leaning carefully back and poking at the pillows as she barely held in her snickering. "Now, if only these pillows weren't so lumpy and strange! Perhaps then my dreams might be clear." He put a bit more of his weight on it, yawning dramatically as he stretched his arms above his head. "But as long as Zatanna is not here, I don't see the harm-"

"I am here, daddy! I got you!" the young sorceress cried, laughing as she wiggled out from behind her father.

"Goodness! You have, indeed, my princess!" the magician laughed, bringing his daughter in close for a hug and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "And I've missed you so! You must promise to teach me that trick before my next show!"

"Uh-uh, that one's a super-special... tersec?" the five-year-old turned the word over uncertainly, and Zatara only smiled as he applauded her attempt.

"Terces, my sun and stars. Repus laiceps terces." He booped her nose, and she giggled once more. With a whispered word and sleight of hand, he produced a diary with a lock, Zatanna's name embossed with ostentatious calligraphy, and smiled even wider as she went starry-eyed.

"You'll need a place to keep those sterces then, my darling."

The chorus of thank-yous that followed after were drowned out only by his own laughter as he returned her tight embrace.

The sorceress began to feel the weight of the memory weighing on her chest, however. A wistfulness as the laughter quickly became quiet cries. At first, she almost believed them to be cries for what she still mourned. But then everything shifted again.

“Give me the word, my sun and stars,” her father growled, “And I will make the boy regret his very-”

“Daddy, no,” she shook her head, “It’s not… It’s not his fault.”

“That is where you are wrong, my dear,” the old magician laughed, “It is always a boy’s fault. Unless he starts taking responsibility for it, then he is not truly a man.” He squeezed her hand tightly as he lifted her chin, making sure she was looking into his smiling eyes as he said, “And he is not worthy of your time, for that matter, either.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, before pulling her back in for another tight embrace.

Zatanna held desperately to this special kind of comfort that she hadn’t felt since her father had died.

[unearthlyxones]

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