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flying-nightwing · 4 years ago

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Act I: The Gala

Oh hey! I’m still alive! I decided to do a mini serie finally, it’s a four part fic that will be done in separate posts because I have enough words to do it that way. Also because I’m slow and I don’t want you to wait until I finish all four parts. So this is the introduction, enjoy!

PS: As mentionned before, I don’t feel like I’m an expert on Tim so I might write him ooc sometimes. This is kinda experimental so I can try to adjust myself.

Masterlist in bio / pinned

Part 2 out now!

Pairing: Tim Drake x Gender neutral reader

Word count: 2228

Warnings: regular amount of violence, language

Summary: You are doing an amazing job at being one of the most succesful hitman in Gotham, going through clean and unnoticed everytime you were deployed on a job. Well, that is until you meet Tim and get a little too intrigued.

“Oh shit--”

You stumbled backward a little bit when a shoulder collided with yours, looking aside just in time to see champagne flowing out of a glass flute in the hands of the man who bumped into you. You took one step aside, watching the liquid float right past you and drop on the floor instead of on your suit. Your eyes trailed up the man’s arm and shoulder to finally set on his face.

“Sorry!” He flinched, inspecting your outfit to be sure none of his champagne ruined it. “I didn’t see you there, are you--”

“It’s fine” You finally spoke up, giving him a hint of a smile. “Have a good evening, sir”

He returned the smile for a brief moment, then furrowed his eyebrows. But you were already gone by the time he opened his mouth again, leaving him half baffled behind you. You didn’t have the time for pleasantries, as you were on a mission. You walked through the crowd, your pace even and relaxed as not to bring suspicion on yourself. Dressing up to fit in with Gotham’s elite was only half of the job, the other was acting like you belonged. Luckily for you, you had experience in that too.

You checked your watch. You had ten minutes until the Mayor’s discourse. Then, you visually sweeped the room, leaning on the bar and flagging the waiter. Soon enough, he was by your side and taking your order.

“Whiskey sour” You said, and he nodded, leaving again to make the drink. Your glance returned to the room, spotting your guys slowly but surely getting in position. One by one, they placed themselves around the exit doors, their suits matching those of the doormen. You had also a few waiters, who walked up the room towards the stage with their platters. Everything was going on smoothly. You glanced down at the glass being put down and thanked the waiter, grabbing your drink and leaving the bar.

You left the bar and headed for the employees door, swirling the liquid in the glass but never drinking it. You threw it in a plant as you were walking by, your actions quick and almost unnoticeable. You circled around one more time before facing the crowd, making sure no one was looking in your direction, before you disappeared behind the door. You avoided the busy staff and crossed the room, heading for the staircase on the other side. You climbed on the second floor and found the bathroom, going in and locking the door behind you. You undid the screws of the ventilation grill and pulled out a duffel bag, in which was hidden your change of clothes. You quickly took off your suit and changed into the tactical gear, buckling on your utility belt and clipping on your bulletproof vest as well as your thigh holsters. You verified the magazines on your guns, slipping them into the holsters and making sure your grenades were not stuck anywhere. Finally, you took the last piece in the bag.

You started back at the gas mask in your hands, until you strapped it to your face and adjusted the straps. Then, you were off.

You reached the balcony as a woman finished announcing the Mayor with a bright smile, clapping and stepping away from the podium. The mayor took her place, waving to the people and mouthing thanks to the crowd. He tapped on the microphone, then cleared his throat.

“Thank you, people of Gotham” He began as you tied your grappling line to the marble rail. “This half year has been a challenging one for this council, with the new reform proposition--”

A loud pop went off, followed by the dispersion of a thick smoke over the room. The people began screaming as the guards flanked the mayor before they couldn’t see him anymore. You jumped from the balcony, sliding down your grappling line until you landed in the circle like a cat. The soft thud was barely audible under the noises of panic, but your presence was felt almost instantly. Your hand reached for your gun as the guards turned around, but they didn’t have the time to do anything before you shot them down one by one. You then grabbed the mayor by the neck as he was trying to escape, pressing the still hot barrel of your gun to his temple.

“Good evening, Mr. Mayor” You greeted, watching as four masked gentlemen in white suits and semi automatics flanked you. You nodded at them to cover you and turned around, launching the escape part of the plan. “I’ll need you to come with me now”

You dragged the sweating mayor along, unbothered by the gunshots behind you. The entire plan rested on your ability to be fast before the numerous vigilantes of Gotham had the time to show up. The police were already there, but they weren’t competent enough on their own to stop you. You navigated the building easily through the smoke, your trajectory clear and memorized from the blueprints you had closely studied. Soon enough, you reached the garages, where the rest of your team waited in a van. The four men around you formed a defensive parameter, covering each side until you reached the van’s door. You threw the mayor in the van and jumped behind, covering your guys at your turn until they jumped in too.

The tires made smoke as the driver speeded away from the garage, making sharp turns as he followed the path out on the garage.

“Wait, what was that?”

“What?”

“I can’t see it anymore--”

“On your right!”

The passenger side window exploded and a small beeping device latched on the dash. Your team seemed confused by it, but you reacted on an impulse. You leaned in between the two front seats and pulled the bat shaped device out, throwing it outside just in time for it to explode in a blinding flash. You gave an exasperated look to your crew, pulling yourself away from the front area.

“Let me handle this”

You snatched a semi automatic from someone and reached for the roof window, sliding it open with a tug. You pulled the step from the floor and stood up on it, passing your arms and head through the hole. You looked around for the vigilantes, seeing almost nothing in the darkness, until you noticed a blur of red. You raised your gun to shoot, but you realized last second it had been a distraction. You raised your left arm just in time to deflect a fast coming shuriken, which sliced your sleeve and your skin underneath. You hissed, but you kept eye on the target and shot the red one. You knew you didn’t quite hit the mark, but it was enough to slow him down. Then, you turned to the darked figure you could now see from closer.

The Batman.

He was on his motorcycle, tailing you. You dropped back into the van and went for the back doors, kicking them open. You shot immediately in front of you, forcing him to dodge your fire. Your bullet ricocheted on the bike, but it was enough to blind him momentarily. You threw the gun aside when it was out of bullets, instead grabbing the two grenades in your utility belt. You unpinned them and waited three seconds before letting them roll onto the ground. He saw you coming however, and braked on time to avoid the blow. You looked back into the windshield, you were almost out of the underground parking. You noticed the red vigilante coming out of the smoke, still hot on your trail.

You smirked under your mask before closing the doors again. “It’s time for the warhead”

The man to your left pulled an underseat compartment, picking the heavy weapon with two hands and passing it to you. You grabbed the handle and supported it as you returned to your roof window, and peeked your head through once again. This time, you didn’t have a semi automatic. You had a rocket launcher.

You ignored the vigilante behind as you instead interested yourself for the police line that gradually came into view. You took your aim, and didn’t waste time to fire. The recoil sent your back onto the frame of the window, but your bulletproof vest absorbed most of the shock. The police, however, had no chance, bulletproof vest or not. The explosion carved a burning hole in the line, which was more than enough for the van to slip through. You dropped back down inside and closed the window behind you, knowing the plan had succeeded.

You sat back on the side benches, observing the terrified mayor that was seated and bound on the other side of the van. One more triumph under your belt.

---

“Right under our nose”

Bruce looked up at Tim, who hadn’t spoken the entire ride back. Well, until now. They had met back at the batcave after the gala’s fiasco and had only exchanged sighs as they tried to trace back what had gone wrong. Bruce’s cowl was sitting on the desk beside him, but he was still in full gear in his computer seat. Tim was pacing around, his mask in his hands and his cape already handing on its support, his mind focused on finding out how they could have let the mayor slip away like that.

“We were there,” He continued. “The response time was optimal, and yet...”

“Whoever they were, they knew what they were doing” Bruce spoke, his voice levelled and stern. “They accounted for our presence around, they timed their exit to the last second, and they showed discipline. They weren’t amateurs”

“I noticed they were fast” Tim nodded. “Usually, people like them like to make a show out of it, they make sure they are seen doing the kidnapping. They didn’t do that. They smoked the room in an effective way, even with masks they were blind too. They didn’t even shoot the crowd, and the gas wasn’t lethal”

“What does that tell us?”

“They had no personal stakes in the kidnapping,” Tim replied. “They were hired guns, high profile, probably under the paycheck of someone notorious if it involved the mayor. I’m thinking a political endgame here, someone who has interest to blackmail the city but not to cause a mess”

“Excellent thinking” Bruce said, standing up. "The safest guess is to go with crime families, but this will need to be looked into. We’ll have to go back to city hall to try and find out clues to help us determine who the mercenaries were exactly, and we can go on from there”

It was easy to come to the conclusion a crime family would be behind this. The tensions in between the turfs and their leaders were higher than usual, with levels of violence Bruce hadn’t seen in a while. He just hoped this wouldn’t end up in a gang war, as he was already dealing with a lot of other problems already.

“Should we go tonight?”

Bruce took a moment to answer, looking at the wall in front of him. “I’ll ask Gordon what he could do for us”

---

After two switches of vans, you finally pulled up in a fancy driveway, barely lit up by torches along the road. You took a path to circle the house, coming to a stop in front of a smaller, separated building further down the estate. You glanced at the mayor’s now covered head before standing up and pushing the back doors open. You jumped out first, then let the crew escort the hostage inside.

“Well done, (Y/N)” Slow clapping made you turn to your side, seeing none other than Carmine Falcone walking toward you. “Your talents never cease to amaze me”

You pulled off your mask and nodded politely at his praise. “Thank you sir”

“You didn’t run into any major problem, did you?” He asked as he invited you to walk with him to the main building. It was a secondary house right out of Blüdhaven he kept strictly for business matters, and his one home you operated from.

“The Bat and his red pupil showed up” You mentioned. “But it was nothing a machine gun and a couple of grenades couldn’t handle”

He laughed, giving you a firm tap on the back. “Glad to hear you say it”

You walked inside the house right behind him, nodding at the guards around the sliding doors. He stopped in the living room, plopping down a brown leather chair and pouring himself a scotch. He then lit up a cigar and snapped his fingers. Soon after, a man in a dark blue suit brought a briefcase forward, which was then handed to you.

“The other half of the pay, plus a bonus for your loyalty”

“Thank you” You said as you picked the briefcase. You had been working for Falcone long enough for you not to feel the need to count the money, you knew it was all there as promised.

“I have a next assignment for you, if you are up for it” He spoke up again as he blew some smoke. You raised an interested eyebrow, and he grinned. “Three days from now, this pay plus 7k for a clean job”

“I’m in”

#tim drake x reader #tim drake imagine #tim drake x you #tim drake fic #red robin x reader #tim drake #red robin #red robin imagine #dc #dcu #dc universe #dc imagine #dcu imagine #dc universe imagine #imagine #red robin x you #batfam #batfam imagine

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howtosingit · 4 years ago

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YOUR ANALYSIS OF THE HUG JUST MADE ME SO HAPPY SO SO HAPPY I have a question for you now what do you think of TK grabbing Carlos’ hand because I just can’t GET OVER IT he’s so tentative but confident in his decision and then he places their intertwined fingers on his stomach AND CRADLES CARLOS’ HAND WITH HIS OWN IN HIS SWEATSHIRT POCKET?!?!?!? I’m so in love with these two they give us so much <3<3

Anon, bless you for appreciating that nearly 3,000-word diatribe about a moment that literally lasts for 2 seconds - a moment that I will truly never recover from, let’s be honest. I’m so glad that you love it too!

At the end of that post I mentioned the hand-holding moment in their final scene, but you’re totally right - I think that moment deserves its own post. This won’t be as long as the last one, since in a lot of ways the hand-holding moment is an extension of the things that are expressed in the hug moment, but I’ve definitely got some things to say!

So, the first thing to know about me: HAND-HOLDING. IS. MY. SHIT.

I can’t pin-point exactly when that became my favorite form of intimacy, but I would wager a guess that Pride and Prejudice (2005) had a lot to do with it - this takes the cake as my favorite hand-holding moment, it is what it is. Also, just... hands. Things like this post that I came across this week just completely wreck my entire soul:

I think holding someone’s hand can be the most intimate and personal form of support and comfort. Like, think about it: it’s hard to subtly hug or kiss someone in a room of people; it’s really likely that someone would notice. But, holding someone’s hand? Linking pinkies? Knuckles brushing? “Palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss”?? It can be so quiet, so personal. Just for the two people involved.

Hand-holding can be private and gentle, it can be purposeful (let’s link hands so that I can guide you somewhere, or because we don’t want to get lost/separated) or just because you crave someone’s touch (see: the screenshot above). Hand-holding is an act so simple, so common, but it can speak volumes, and I honestly just cannot get enough of it. Every hand-holding moment that I get to witness will light me on fire because I truly am trash for intimacy and love.

youtube

So, here’s what I said about the hand-holding moment in my hug analysis post:

I honestly cannot wait for season 2. This hug and the final scene on the hood of Carlos’s car - with TK again making the move to embrace their relationship by physically reaching into Carlos’s space for his hand and dragging it into his own space, firmly opening the door to his heart to let him inside, while also settling Carlos’s hand between his own to let him know that he’s willing to protect him and his heart too - makes me believe that we are in for some truly wonderful romance with these boys.

This scene, like the hug, took me completely by surprise. I would’ve definitely put money on this season ending with the breakup scene, and the possibility of their future up in the air until season 2. I am obviously SO GLAD that that is not what happened - plus, the final episode really does a great job of giving TK a full season arc, so it’s just better writing to include the moments with Carlos.

The above clip is 35-seconds long, so let’s see how many words it takes for me to break it down 😅

Right from the very beginning, I’m drawn to their body language. They are almost perfect mirror images of one another as they lay on top of the hood: outer legs are bent, with the foot flat. Inner legs are more elongated, though I can’t help but notice how Carlos’s right leg is bent towards TK (why is this scene so dark, it’s so hard to see, wah). They will continue to mirror each other in a lot of ways throughout the scene, which I’ll be sure to point out.

Like the hug scene before, they seem very casual, and as comfortable as a person can be on the hood of a car - blankets probably would’ve been nice, Carlos!

However, I think there are subtle indications that they don’t have everything figured out - both of TK’s hands are hidden inside of his pocket and Carlos’s hand is more closed than open.

Again, for a person who loves them so much, I don’t spend a lot of time studying hand analysis, but I do know that hidden hands - in pockets, in gloves, behind your back, etc - has a lot of meaning. While I pointed out that Carlos seems to be positioned towards TK, TK is very much in his own space on the hood of the car. He’s still a little wary, maybe? Still a little unsure, possibly?

I think the concept of personal space is so interesting. A chunk of my hug analysis included the idea that Carlos was on the edge of TK’s space (the fire station), but refused to enter on his own, and that TK came to him and entered his space instead. They never actually enter the fire station together; they stay right there at the door, merging their spaces right on the edge of their own two worlds.

That’s why I think this scene is an extension of that physical conversation. Because this is the scene where we actually get to see TK fully invite Carlos into his space - basically dragging him there by the hand. By the end of this scene, there is no question in our minds where these two are going to go from here. We didn’t need Tim Minear to tell us that they are going to date next season, it’s completely obvious after this moment.

I’m getting ahead of myself.

I also want to point out Carlos’s right hand at the beginning of the scene, since it gets a starring role later. Remember that at the end of the hug scene, his hands are open and flat on TK’s back, indicating that he was open and willingly vulnerable in that moment. Now, his hand is closed. Not clenched, not fisted, but definitely less open than before.

All of this to say, the hug was a moment of open and vulnerable physical connection between them, and this moment does not really start out that way.

I think it’s because they both know they have things to talk about, and talking can kind of go either way with them. The last time they really talked on-screen, they “broke up,” so maybe now they’re a little uncertain how this is going to go, even though they both know that they want it. It’s like, being certain of the theory behind something, and then having to put it into practice; it can be scary.

So, Carlos makes a move and asks a question - “What are you thinking?”

Their bodies don’t move at all. There’s no rush, no hurry. They are certain about their physical connection, but that’s not what this moment is for them. It’s all about their words and thoughts, so their bodies stay out of it for now.

Mirror images: first line Carlos says, he’s looking up. First line TK says, he’s looking up. Second line Carlos says, he looks over at TK. Second line TK says, he looks over at Carlos.

I just love when they look at each other. Love is so beautiful, y’all.

AND NOW WE GET TO THE HANDS.

TK pulls his left hand from his pocket - from where it’s protected, from where it’s hidden - and he breaks into Carlos’s space. Just like the hug scene was about TK coming towards Carlos, this is that same movement. TK comes to him again, almost like a reminder of what that hug meant.

I love that TK looks down to link his hands with Carlos’s, but Carlos keeps his eyes on TK’s face, almost like he’s still trying to read into his mind. He’s watching his face, trying to see through him, discover everything he might not be saying. This man is so soft, so observant and attentive, and my heart can’t handle it.

Carlos’s right hand might be slightly closed and facing away from TK, but that doesn’t stop him from grabbing it and linking their fingers together anyway. TK’s up to the challenge!

We won’t talk about the intimacy of where Carlos’s hand is resting, and how TK doesn’t even second-guess going there - BUT I KNOW YOU ALL SEE IT

(I mean, I will talk about it just to say that if there is one thing these two know about each other, it’s that they don’t hold back on a physical level, so why should TK?)

I. AM. OBSESSED. with the way TK’s fingers kind of wrap around and spider through Carlos’s fingers - it’s not a super easy feat, it takes some maneuvering, but he seems super determined.

Carlos definitely doesn’t fight him on it, his hand willingly opens and moves to make the linking possible/easier.

THERE IS THIS BEAUTIFUL MOMENT WHERE THEIR HANDS ARE MID-LINK AND THEY ARE BOTH LOOKING DOWN AT THEM AND I SWEAR TO GOD IT’S A RENAISSANCE PAINTING Y’ALL (SCREENSHOT BELOW) IT IS SO STUNNING. I AM STUNNED.

TK pulls Carlos’s hand into his lap, dropping it down softly onto of the pocket and, as you pointed out anon, right on top of his other hand

Their eyes immediately return to each other and the love??? is ICONIC???

But like, this is where this moment becomes an extension of the hug moemnt.

See, whereas that moment was TK entering Carlos’s space, this is TK saying “I want you with me, over here in my world, by my side, in my hands, I think it’s where you belong”

And not only that, but by cradling Carlos’s hand in-between his own, shielding it from the elements - I mean, looks back at the scene, Carlos’s hand is basically hidden - he’s also saying “I’m gonna protect you, and take care of you, if you let me. I don’t want to hurt you anymore”

Because I think TK knows this has all been hard on Carlos, the constant back-and-forth and uncertainly has left him really vulnerable.

And just like Carlos pressed both of his open hands to TK’s lower back during the hug to shield such a vulnerable area from harm, TK now shields Carlos from harm. Reassures him that he’s steady now. That he’s ready for them.

(Also the heart eyes at the end of this scene and the way TK definitely stares at Carlos’s mouth for a moment?? THESE TWO TOTALLY MADE OUT AFTER THIS.)

I AM A GLASS CASE OF SOFT EMOTIONS

Renaissance painting:

January 18th, I need you to get here, like, yesterday. I’m about to LOSE. IT.

#tarlos #911 lone star #tk strand #carlos reyes #anonymous #asks #bless you anons for letting me unleash my insanity #brian breakdowns #might as well start a tag?#brian being tarlos trash

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iowriteswords · 4 years ago

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Upcoming Projects

As I’m writing this post, I’m almost finished with Crooked Arrows, the second part in my Flightless Birds series.It will be a while before I write anything else, because I have several pressing projects lined up right now, but I like to keep a list of what I’m planning to write in the future, and thought you guys might like to see it too. These are not super nice, well-written summaries, because this is really more a checklist for me than, like, an advertisement. I love talking about all of my stories and would be happy to answer any questions, but none of these are anywhere close to finished and there will be much more polished descriptions someday.

Miscellaneous:

The Witch Beneath the Stair: A nameless foreign queen befriends the last witch in the kingdom and her changeling son. The king doesn’t approve, until their palace is under attack and the witch becomes his best chance to get his wife and unborn child to safety. The witch and the queen flee the kingdom, carrying with them two potential heirs to the throne.

(AKA the story where I invented a complex magical and political system to avoid naming my characters.)

Swan Song: A retelling of/sequel to the ballet Swan Lake, from the perspective of Odile.

Oz Project:

I’m in the process of retelling L. Frank Baum’s entire Oz series from the perspective of Ozma. So far there are 2 parts, available on AO3, covering Book 2 and filling in some things before the next book. I’m going to write parts 3-6, which will go through the events of Book 6, then an interlude for Glinda’s backstory and her perspective on the events of The Wizard of Oz and The Land of Oz. Then the rest of the series from Ozma’s POV.

(BTW if you like Oz I have a whole separate Oz blog @sketchyglinda. And if you don’t like Oz you might still enjoy the story of a farm boy becoming queen.)

Batfic:

(This is probably what you’re here for so I’m putting it at the end in hopes that’ll make you more likely to read about everything else)

We’re All Mad Here: A few weeks after Red Hood moves to the juvie ward in Arkham, he gets a new roommate. A roommate who looks like a mini Joker. With Joker dead, Batman in Blackgate, and no one’s secret identities a secret anymore, Jason is the only one who has any chance of fixing any of this.

I was really excited about this, and then I had a flash drive break, taking the first 6-8 chapters with it, and that kind of killed my motivation. It’s a lot of rewriting to do. But I still like the idea so I’m sure I’ll get back to it eventually.

Maybe Someday We’ll Laugh Again: Sequel to It’s Not That Funny. Tim and Jay are home. They’re in therapy. Lots of therapy. The whole welcoming-serial-killers-into-his-home thing has complicated Bruce’s relationship with the Justice League, and everything is a mess, but Cass is home, and it’s all worth it to have all his kids under the same roof for the first time ever.

Talons Clipped with Care: Part of the Flightless Birds series, set in Tim’s home universe. After the Bats of multiple worlds team up to take out Owlman, they’re left with young, Talonized versions of themselves to find homes for. Dick, Cass, and Jason take home Tim and Damian. It doesn’t exactly go well.

Ultimate Untitled Batfamily Fanfic: My version of the Batfamily history, covering all the storylines that interest me most, beginning with the arrival of Dick, and going until I run out of steam, I guess. I have significant chunks of the later parts written, and the early parts barely started, which is a frequent problem I have when writing. We’ll get there eventually.

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astyle-alex · 4 years ago

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[Fanfic] Museum Mishap | the BatFam

Heya! As we approach the End of 2020 (FINALLY), I’m realizing that this story is ridiculously close to reaching the milestone of 25k hits on Ao3. To celebrate, I’ll be posting the whole thing here on Tumblr!

(I would however, deeply appreciate it if y’all would pop over to view it on Ao3, briefly, so I can get the view counted as a hit and actually make it over the line for 25k in views before the close of 2020!)

Museum Mishap | Chapter 1/6

Fandom: the DC Universe, Batman & co. Pairings: Jay x Tim Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson Rating: Gen Audiences Warnings: None

Total Word Count: 38,590

Summary:

Middle-School Tim Drake is on a field trip to the Science Museum, but with a WE exhibition of top-secret new technologies being staged in the basement, Tim separates from his classmates and breaks into the staff-only areas by using the skills he's developed over years of stalking Batman and Robin.

Current-Robin Jason Todd catches him in the act, but he's not there to confront Tim for trespassing or truancy - he's there because there's a rumor on the street that Tim Drake knows Batman's real name. And the rumor's gaining ground, quick, drawing in the wrong kind of attention.

When a Drug-Lord decides to take the rumor seriously enough to kidnap the little genius, Jason jumps into the crossfire. It all goes downhill from there. Fast.

(Jason is 14, Tim is 12)

Chapter 1 : Special Access

A trip to Gotham’s History of Science and Technology Museum would’ve been exciting for even your average twelve year old – it was a day of school that didn’t feel like school, and it meant a chance to hang out, relatively unsupervised, with your friends all day instead of just the one or two classes you managed to luck into having together.

Timothy Jackson Drake was not your average twelve year old, and a trip to the SciTech Muse was the kind of thing that made his enrollment in middle school entirely worth it. For starters, it was an entire day spent in the heart of the city surrounded by some of the coolest artifacts of science humans could craft.

And to make things even better, the trip was an all-day, delayed opening affair, starting at 10am and ending at 6pm – which meant he’d actually been able to get enough sleep last night to be well-rested, a rarity in its own right with his particular extra-curriculars. Better yet, he’d been able to tell the Drake housekeeper / nanny that he’d be having dinner with his class so she could go home right at 6 without having to wait for him to get back so she could cook for him.

That part wasn’t true, of course, but he had concrete evidence that had been legitimately published by the school to help back up his story. Mrs. Simz had her own kid, and was therefore harder to convince than some of the others Tim’s parents had hired, but that also meant she had more reason to hurry home when presented with a believable reason excusing it.

Being a sixth-grader meant Tim couldn’t just stay in the heart of the city when the field trip was over, he was on a rollcall and the bus back to Gotham Academy wouldn’t leave without his name getting checked off. The high schoolers were allowed to take public transit home if they had a signed permission slip from their parents, but Tim had to wait a few more years before he could con his way into having such freedoms.

Still, getting over to the West Side from where his school was in Coventry would be far easier than getting there from the Drake Estate way out in Bristol. The extra hour and a half he’d save himself in commuting time mean he would be able to grab some coffee and something to eat without having to rush to get in place for the nighttime adventure he’d planned.

Beyond all that, the fact that the field trip was this week, meant there was a special exhibition from the cutting-edge tech division of Wayne Enterprises in the midst of being set up. All the main components were being staged in the museum's basement and the ones too big to steal were as close to unprotected as they would ever be – and Tim intended to take full advantage of that.

He’d been summarily and repeatedly denied acceptance to the WayneTech summer camps as his parents owned one of the company's main competitors: Drake Industries. Apparently corporate espionage was a big enough problem that even ten year olds were suspect. Tim found it ridiculous that the one time he would’ve been entirely okay with having his abilities underestimated was the one time he wasn’t assumed to be just another dumb kid. Honestly, Tim was pretty sure that no one had actually read his application – the computer had probably scanned his ID and kicked his profile out of the running before it had even made it to a human that might care about his actual qualifications.

Tim hadn’t figured out how to make a bulletproof fake identity profile – not yet, at least – And he certainly wasn’t going to get caught trying to gain illegal access to WE on a sub-par fake ID. Because there were all kinds of ways that would go poorly for him – between his parents possibly being disappointed in him enough to hire a live-in Nanny to the legal ramifications he’d face, even as a minor, it just wasn’t worth it.

But the thought of getting an up-close look at the new tech WE was rolling out still made Tim's heart pound like he’d just downed a full pot of coffee. WE took a very different approach to developing their tech than DI – more of a ‘you know what would be cool? can we make that reasonable?’ philosophy than a ‘how do we solve this problem?’ sort of thing. Tim found the both the WE approach and their results utterly fascinating.

Not that Tim had been allowed to play with much of DI's tech, being that his parents would hear about him attempting to gain unsupervised lab access, and promptly ground him, and anyone who might supervise treated him like a kid far too young to understand or unobtrusively observe the work going on inside the places he wanted to see.

So, the fact that a spectacular spread of WE tech was set up in the basement of a rather glaringly unsecured staff only area in the very building Tim’s class was touring stood as an open invitation for Tim to investigate.

An invitation that Tim took very seriously. He’d spent at least 18 hours over the past week examining the museum’s blueprints – courtesy of the Gotham City Hall Public Archives – And the rundown of the security, both in terms of the human guards and staff on-hand and the electronic countermeasures – via close examination of the extensive repertoire of ‘insider access’ videos on the museum’s own webpage. Tim would probably end up sending the museum an anonymous suggestion about adjusting that at some point, but he’d worry about that later.

After he used it to his tech fantasy fulfillment advantage.

For now, he simply slipped away from the unwatchful eyes of his teachers, stuck headphones in his ears, and carefully made his way – casually, calmly, and like he had no destination in mind – over to the hallway by the cafeteria near the east wing gift shop. The hallway that had restrooms and a staff-only door halfway down it. A door secured with a heavy-duty machine-lock, with a ten-digit keypad, but a door that was not alarmed.

The human guards were always more focused on preventing shoplifters from stealing over-priced – for a good cause, but still over-priced – museum memorabilia than on the high-traffic restroom hall by the cafeteria. Using his headphones as an excuse to tap his fingers to keep count – while his eyes and most of his brainpower focused on evaluating targets – Tim tracked the museum employees on their lunch breaks and calculated the best option to use as his ticket backstage. He had some in mind, but he had contingencies for last-minute adjustment.

Tim settled on a big guy whose name he’d read on staff profiles but had forgotten with the other useless information provided about his role in the marketing department. What Tim hadn’t forgotten about him was that his department’s office was right by the staff door he was eyeing – 4.5 meters down and to the left, to be exact – which meant that, even with his slow stride, he would be behind another door in the hallway approximately 17 seconds after the door Tim needed closed behind him.

When Mr. Marketing got up and lumbered over to the trash, Tim sidled over towards an informational sign with a museum map. As Mr. Marketing passed him, Tim counted off 4 seconds before he turned around to follow. He slid his hand into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around the u-shaped metallic magnet he'd had to smuggle in by jamming it into his mouth and using sleight of hand to pretend it was his retainer – Less than sanitary, but effective, and he’d taken an extra vitamin this morning as a precaution.

Mr. Marketing punched in his code and pulled the door open to well over 90° before he lumbered through the gap. Tim kept his pace consistent; patient, he could be patient – even though it made his heart rate kick up uncomfortably as he put his faith in his calculations instead of in his feet. He reached the door with almost 6 inches of clearance left for him to slide his hand in and clip his magnet into place over the latch.

The door closed as he withdrew his hand and kept walking, but it did not click.

The machine lock whirred with an attempt to close, but its components struck the flat surface of his magnet and failed to properly secure the door. Had the door been alarmed, that would have drawn a lot of unwanted attention, but as it was Tim made it to the restroom with almost nothing noticeably amiss.

The restroom was crowded enough that his entrance didn’t draw attention and he shut himself in one of the stalls to count off exactly 10 seconds. Then he washed his hands, acquired a paper towel that he did not immediately dispose of, and went to retrieve his magnet. The paper towel allowed him to grasp the handle without leaving fingerprints and he retrieved his magnet without incident – opening the door onto an empty hallway and promptly swerving right to access the unsecured stairwell he knew would be there.

Tim had no way to hide himself from the singular security camera watching the hallway, but the area was so highly trafficked that he doubted any security guard had been monitoring closely enough to spot his detour. He would get in a ton of trouble if he was caught here – phone calls to his parents would be unavoidable and they’d likely be so angry at him they’d fly back from Spain a week early. But he’d almost certainly avoid any kind of legal consequences.

Besides, he wasn’t going to get caught. He’d planned this too well for that.

Tim made his way through the less convenient passageways in the museum’s basement until he reached the corner of the sub-basement where the WayneTech exhibit was being staged. It was, as he’d known it would be, isolated and completely vacant of staff.

A smile split his face as the relief he felt in making it there successfully was quickly replaced by the buzz of unadulterated excitement. He set his backpack down carefully – mindful, as always, of his precious camera. Then he rolled up his sleeves as he stepped closer to the first machine he saw with the WE logo stamped proudly on its side.

According to the signage prepped in the binder sitting next to the behemoth, it was a component of the quantum computer WayneTech was developing to facilitate physically interactive virtual realities. Tim bounced on his toes as he warred with himself – half wanting to read more about the technical specs and half wanting to dive right in and see it for himself.

Tim made it through another two pages of engineering details before he gave up and literally tackled the machine to hoist himself up high enough to look inside via the glass panel built in for that specific purpose. There were at least a dozen windows in the casing and Tim wondered – for a brief moment of distraction from the tech itself as he clambered higher up its exterior – how the museum was going to work in ramps and such for visitors to get the best views. If he didn’t get arrested tonight or banned from the museum forever, he might have to come back to see it in its full glory.

He’d finagled his way to the last protrusion from top and was marveling at the neat rows of complicated wiring laid out below him when something crucial changed: he discovered that he was not, in fact, alone.

“Ya know, I don’t think you’re supposed to be down here.”

Tim really wanted to pretend he didn’t yelp like a kicked puppy when the sudden voice scared him half out of his skin, but the basement echoed enough for him to know it would be ridiculous to think the newcomer hadn’t heard him. Tim ducked his head in shame as his ears burned red and he turned to face whoever had caught him with hunched shoulders and guilty hands raised in surrender.

And then he spotted his accuser on the floor and froze.

It was Jason Peter Todd.

Jason Peter Todd – Bruce Wayne’s new ward and the new Robin. And also kinda Tim’s neighbor. Well, as far as the word ‘neighbor' applied when your respective estates were so big it took an hour to hike door to door. Tim’s brain got caught in a loop of wondering what the frack Jason Peter Todd, of all people, was doing at the museum on a Thursday afternoon. Was doing down here, in this particular sub-basement, on a Thursday afternoon.

Tim had fully been expecting to see the new Robin today, but that was when he was in full costume and wasn’t supposed to be for at least ten more hours. And Tim had not – in any of his contingencies – planned for Robin to see him.

“Uh, hi,” Tim floundered.

“Hi,” returned the crime fighting teenager Tim idolized and had been planning to stalk through Coventry later today. There was a glint in his eyes as he stared up at Tim with a smirk.

They stared at each other in silence for way longer than could possibly be considered reasonable and Tim's ears resumed to burn at that, and at the distinct realization he had no idea what to say next.

Because what exactly are you supposed to say when Jason Peter Todd catches you red handed in an off-limits part of a museum? Sitting on top of a piece of cutting edge computer engineering that you had absolutely no right to touch?

“You're Tim Drake, aren’t you,” Jason asked – in a way that was definitely not really a question and also made it clear that Jason was laughing at him. “We met last month at the charity gala. I’m Jason.”

“I remember, Mr. Todd,” Tim spouted, falling back on the robotic safety net of manners his mother had drilled into him. “Um, what brings you here?”

“It’s just ‘Jason’, kid.” He jerked his chin at the machine Tim clung to, continuing, “That shit’s WayneTech. B sent me over to make sure it’s got all the right bits with it.”

Tim nodded like a puppet, trying not to drown in his horror as he realized what it meant that Jason had caught him. He was messing with tech that Batman owned. There were probably a hundred undetectable BatSecurity features on this thing. Robin had probably been sent to see if someone was trying to steal it when one of Batman’s invisible alarms had gone off.

“How about you, kid,” Jason asked, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his cargo pants. He regarded Tim with openly amused parody as he asked, “What brings you here?”

“Field trip,” Tim responded automatically.

“Field trip?” Jason echoed with an incredulous chuckle.

He stared at Tim for another long moment and Tim stared back, terrified and unblinking and too tongue tied to substantiate his claim.

“Alright then,” Jason said eventually, with a one shoulder shrug inside his leather jacket. “So, you got yourself stuck up there or are you gonna come have lunch with me?”

“Lunch?”

“Yeah, ya know, food. You eat it,” Jason explained. “I know I could use some pizza.”

Tim frowned – at the confirmation of the non-sequitur of lunch plans, not the various insults attached to it.

Jason seemed to falter briefly. “You actually stuck up there, Tim?”

“No,” Tim huffed, willing to admit he sounded slightly petulant about it.

“Well then get your skinny ass down here,” Jason prompted – a beat too late in a way Tim didn’t quite understand. He blinked, trying to puzzle out what didn’t sit right, but Jason arched an eyebrow – in the way Tim had seen him do as Robin, magically managing the expression despite the mask – and Tim realized he was supposed to be doing something.

He was already in enough trouble as it was, so Tim scrambled down the computer and found himself face to face with the second Robin. Or face to chest, as it were.

Tim hadn’t hit his growth spurt yet, so he knew he was a scrawny twelve, but he hadn’t thought Jason would be that much taller. Jason was only two years older and he was stocky to start with. It was different when he’d been in the suit he’d worn for the charity gala. In civvies he looked broad and strong, and he stood up straighter.

Jason pulled one hand from his pocket and threw his arm around Tim’s shoulders – began dragging him towards the exit. Tim lunged for his backpack as they passed it and clutched it close to his chest as Jason continued to drag him back upstairs.

They ended up in the west cafeteria, in a corner that Jason had clearly selected for it’s state of semi-privacy. It was crowded and public enough to make raised voices problematic, but private enough to discuss sensitive details without much worry of being over heard. And it was neutral ground, like Jason was trying to make Tim comfortable before hashing out exactly how much trouble he was in for touching Batman’s stuff without express permission.

Jason had acquired a large pizza, dripping with extra cheese and a blanket of peperoni, and two double-thick paper plates – one of which he piled high with three slices and placed in front of Tim. He gave himself five slices and settled down to chat having somehow already inhaled half of a sixth.

“So,” Jason started around a mouthful of food as Tim poked tentatively as his own serving, “Some people are saying you’ve got some sort of connection to the Batman.”

Tim frowned, his gaze snapping up to evaluate Jason.

He’d spoken quietly, conspiratorially – like he wanted in on a secret Tim had. Like he wasn’t about to threaten to hang Tim by his thumbs in the depths of Batman’s secret lair for the rest of the foreseeable future.

Awareness that Jason didn’t know that Tim knew his vigilante identity sparked inside Tim’s brain. He might be able to get out of this. If Robin didn’t know then Tim was only in trouble for touching the quantum computer because Batman didn’t want anyone touching it, and Jason was limited in how he could exact vengeance because the wrong move would reveal his role as Robin. All Tim had to do was talk his way out of this.

Tim could do that. Right?

All he had to do was figure out how.

“I’m sorry I touched the quantum computer,” he blurted.

Probably not like that.

Tim hunched down into his shoulders and poked again at his pizza to avoid eye contact with Jason. His ears began to burn again as he felt Jason staring at him.

“Shit, kid,” Jason said, after swallowing his bite this time, “You’re not in trouble.”

Tim’s finger paused mid-poke. “I’m not?”

“Nah,” Jason promised. “Fuck the Man.”

Tim blinked. “Then why are you talking to me?”

Jason blinked. A sort of confused expression that was vaguely pitying flickered across his face. Then he reiterated, “’Cause I hear you know who the Batman is, ya know, under the cowl.”

Okay. So, Jason didn’t know he knew, but he suspected.

Tim could work with that. Probably.

He took a bite of pizza purely to keep himself from blurting anymore unhelpful apologies and attempted to calculate the best response.

“Nobody knows who Batman is,” Tim said eventually.

“But you’re a fan, right?” Jason nodded at Tim sweater – at the big black and yellow R embroidered on the left-hand side of the red-wool knitwork. Mrs. Davis had made this sweater for him, before her kids had insisted that she retire from babysitting rich Gotham kids and go be a grandmother in the safety and comfort of their town in Florida. Mrs. Davis had been one of the very few people who had supported Tim’s moderately obsessive interest in Batman and Robin.

She hadn’t really understood, but Tim missed her – missed being able to talk about it.

“You’ve gotta have some theories,” Jason was saying, his voice persistent enough to pull Tim back out from inside his own head.

“I don’t have any theories,” Tim said. And it was true enough. He’d had theories. But that was before. Now, he had evidence. Another bite of pizza kept him from saying that out loud.

“Seriously? None?”

Tim shrugged and counted the circles of peperoni left on his first slice. Nine more circles, fifteen more bites. His stomach was already wary of the food he was putting in it. If this interrogation lasted more than ten bites, Tim’s stomach would probably begin to protest.

Adamantly.

He peeked up at Jason. Who was somehow already finishing slice number three.

“Then why’s the word on the street that you’ve got insider know-how on ole Batsy?”

“I dunno,” Tim said with another shrug. Truthfully, the question was bothering him too.

Tim had never been seen when he’d staked out a spot to catch the dynamic duo on patrol or in the midst of a big bust. Never. They would’ve confronted him then and there if they’d ever found him with a camera full of very clear photos of them in action.

So, how did Robin know enough to suspect him?

“Who’d you hear it from?”

This time, Jason shrugged. “I dunno. People. But like seriously, you don’t have any fucking idea why someone would think you know Batman’s real name?”

Tim shook his head silently. He wanted to save his pizza for the questions that really needed him to have something to do with his mouth other than blabbing out his secrets.

“Huh.”

Jason’s eyes were narrowed, not quite threateningly, but pressingly – like he wasn’t quite sure a threat would be appropriate, but he was certain that Tim wasn’t telling the truth. It was another look Tim had captured him using as Robin. A kind of gentled-down BatglareTM for Robin to use on uncooperative victims instead of how Batman used his on uncooperative criminals – because victims could be uncooperative for all kinds of non-criminal reasons.

Tim suddenly understood why it was so effective.

He squirmed in his seat and caved to the need to take another bite of pizza.

But he wasn’t a victim. Was he?

Suddenly, Robin’s presence at the museum seemed a lot more suspect. It made sense for Robin to be there because Tim had triggered some sort of invisible Batalarm on the quantum computer, but he’d gotten there way too quickly for that to have been what brought him to the museum initially. He’d’ve had to have already been inside the building.

But why?

Tim’s class had been scheduled for this museum trip over a month ago. He’d even talked about it briefly with Bruce Wayne himself at the charity gala he’d attended with his parents – that’s how he’d known about the WayneTech exhibition far enough in advance to plan effectively to sneak down to the basements.

“When’d you start hearing that rumor?”

Tim’s question was so sudden and loud in his own ears that he startled himself.

He seemed to have startled Jason too – who was starting on pizza slice number five and appeared to have been in the middle of a sentence when Tim had jolted into questioning him.

“Uh, about a week ago, I guess,” Jason explained. “Your name had come up a few times before that in regards to you being a fan, but it wasn’t too long ago that it changed to you having special access or some shit.”

Tim nodded absently.

Two weeks ago, there’d been a major drug bust in a neighborhood just over half a mile away from his school. Batman had been tipped off about the drug ring in the same way Tim had: kids who came to school high rode the bus home and the chalk marks on the benches at the stops used by the kids who were using weren’t terribly sophisticated code.

Tim had snagged some really spectacular shots the night that bust went down.

Several of Tim’s classmates had exhibited symptoms of withdrawal shortly after that. A few of those students – namely some who’d never seemed to be able to have a civil conversation or simply let Tim pass in silence – had stopped exhibiting those symptoms a few days later. Tim had assumed they’d found a new dealer.

Maybe they’d needed to find something more valuable to trade too, to make up for getting their old dealer busted.

Info on the Bat who’d busted them would be pretty valuable.

Even just a lead on info would’ve been valuable. Tim had been outright stalking Batman and Robin for over a third of his entire lifespan, at this point, and only just recently figured out who Batman really was. And he was a verified genius who’d happenstantially acquired the right life experiences to recognize things like quadruple somersaults. Who’d circumstantially idolized and stalked two different costumed acrobats for several years before he realized they were actually the same person and begun to extrapolate from there.

Nobody knew anything about Batman.

A tip on someone who might, would be very valuable indeed.

Tim was being interrogated by Robin because he was a victim. He just hadn’t been victimized quite yet.

Tim dropped his pizza like it’d burned him and began to rifle through his backpack for the new cellphone his mother had bought him when school started. It was ‘so he could fit in with his peers’. It was too big to fit in his pocket and he’d never liked wearing a watch, so he’d had to dig to find it and figure out the time.

It was 4:32pm.

Shift change for the guards was in less than an hour and they were already definitely antsy for it. Most of the science staff were already heading home to beat the traffic, and most of the new guards wouldn’t be coming in for at least another twenty minutes.

If Tim were going to lead a team to invade this place and capture an unwilling potential asset, he would do it in the next ten to fifteen minutes.

“We have to get out of here.”

Jason frowned, his confusion pronounced with wary unease. But he demonstrated a willingness to trust Tim at his word for no other reason than Tim wanted him to and clambered to his feet. He took his last slice of pizza with him though – and nabbed the two untouched pieces from Tim’s plate as he followed.

“What’s wrong, Tim,” Jason asked, carefully nonchalant. His hands were full of pizza in the way Tim’s mouth had been to stop him from doing what he wanted to do when asked a stupid question he should’ve known better than to answer – Tim suspected that if Jason wasn’t holding onto the pizza he’d’ve grabbed Tim’s shoulder at this point.

Tim didn’t know how to answer at all, let alone efficiently communicate what he’d deduced about their current situation. Especially not without revealing that he knew Jason was Robin and could guess why Robin was here talking to him to begin with.

Jason was rapidly eating though the pizza that was keeping him from grabbing onto Tim’s arm to stop their not-so-subtle scramble towards the museum’s main exit. They made it to within sight of the doors before Jason had inhaled the last piece of crust, and Tim had probably ignored several unheard comments and questions about their rapid egress, when Jason finally lost the battle to avoid physical contact and wrapped his hand around Tim’s elbow.

Tim swung around to face him as his inertia asserted dominance.

“Timmy, what’s got you so spooked?” Jason asked. “C’mon. You can tell me. Anything. I won’t rat on you, even if it’s something bad. Lemme help.”

“I can’t – it’s not – You don’t,” Tim could practically feel the whine building in his voice at all the false starts that his brain attempted to send through his mouth to make the act of communication happen. His brain apparently thought it worked something like magic.

Tim was frustrated and embarrassed and still very acutely aware of the fact that they needed to get out of the building. Right now.

And Jason was doing the Robin look, the other one – the one for the scared little bunnies of the victims they came across that needed to be soothed and calmed and promised that they had a friend somewhere in the cold cruel world. Tim knew why it worked – felt it working on him – and yet he was mortified that Robin thought it necessary.

He wasn’t a bunny. He was an asset. Currently being targeted.

Recentered, he focused and forced words to come out of his mouth intelligibly.

“We have to get out of the building.”

Jason had moved to holding onto both of Tim’s shoulders at some point – holding him steady, holding him still. He looked Tim right in the eye and asked gently, “Why?”

The words got jammed up in Tim’s throat again and he squeaked.

And then the museum’s windows exploded inward with a dramatic shower of glass and gunfire as more goons than Tim could count began to repel their way inside.

Tim closed his eyes and winced at the bite of regret on how fracking close they’d been to getting out of this without any major complications.

“That’s why,” he groaned.

-----

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#BatFam #dcu #dcmultiverse #Batman #Robin #Batman & Robin #Jay x Tim #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Jason Todd x Tim Drake #fanfic #Kid!fic

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jarienn972 · 6 years ago

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Only a Little Superstitious - Chapter 18

I realized yesterday as I was getting ready to post the latest chapter of my other ongoing story that I hadn’t posted this recent chapter update on Tumblr yet. It’s been up on AO3 and FF.net for a little while so I apologize for the delay getting it posted here. This new chapter picks up right about the same time as the cliffhanger ending of Chapter 17 and if you haven't figured out yet why Kronk continues to pursue Emma and Killian, I've dropped a few not-so-subtle hints here.

Previous chapters on Tumblr: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Carlos managed to make the hike back to his government-issue SUV in approximately fifteen minutes less than it had taken to ascend to the cavern. Armed with photographic evidence of the matching symbols, he had practically skipped down the mountainside, still lost in disbelief that this hidden hiking trail just might hold a gateway to another world. If they were right about everything, by tomorrow, he would be able to physically witness magic. Grandmother had always insisted that it existed and now, they would be able to see its return. He had heard these legends since he was a boy and never dreamed that some might just be true.

He tossed his backpack onto the rear seat before sliding behind the steering wheel and stretching across the center console to flip open the glove compartment, retrieving the charger cord for his phone. Not having a signal out here in the middle of nowhere was quite draining on the battery. He'd barely glanced at the phone all morning except to check the time or to make use of the camera since he knew he wouldn't have service until he reached Highway 60. As soon as his phone was in range of a tower though, his phone chimed with notifications and Carlos would soon learn of the drama unfolding down in the Valley.

Unlike his own beat up Suburban, the Park Service SUVs were fully equipped with built-in Bluetooth so he could listen to his messages without needing to fumble with the speakerphone button. He had only a single message but it had Carlos pulling off to the side of the highway the moment he heard it. There was no mistaking both the urgency and hint of fear in Emma's voice as he listened to her words, realizing that she'd left the voicemail for him just ten minutes earlier. Had she contacted Tim already and if so, what action might they take?

He'd barely screeched to a stop before slamming the gearshift into Park and grabbing his phone, dialing Emma's number impatiently while hoping she would pick up quickly.

"Carlos, I'm so glad you called," Emma answered on the third ring. "Did you get the message I left and are you back in the city yet?"

"Yes, I got the message but no, I'm not quite there yet. I'm still a few miles east of Apache Junction – maybe forty minutes away if I disobey a few speed limits… Did you get ahold of Tim?"

"I had him paged by one of the nurses here in the Emergency department. He's on his way." She didn't sound entirely convinced though.

"I'll give him a call myself in case they didn't relay the urgency, but I'm sure he's on his way. I'll make sure he knows what it's about and call you back when I'm closer to Mesa. I don't know how we'd do it, but I think we may need to get the two of you out of there…" Even as he suggested it, Carlos reflected on how risky that idea might be but he didn't see any other option.

"I'm honestly inclined to agree, but I don't think that would be easy…," Emma replied as a tall, dark-haired man in a cadet blue uniform pushed open one of the double doors across from her. "Carlos, hang on a minute… This might be your friend, Tim, now…"

"Sheriff Jones?" the uniformed man asked as he approached, extending his hand toward her in greeting. Emma nodded as she shook his hand, reading the name on his badge which confirmed who he was even before the security chief introduced himself. "I'm Tim Stillwater, head of security here at Mesa General. Glad to finally meet you in person, despite the circumstances…"

"Tell Tim hello for me," Carlos said with a chuckle from his end of the phone call. "I'll leave you in his capable hands and call you back when I reach Mesa."

"Excuse me one moment, Mr. Stillwater," Emma apologized as she wrapped up the call. "Thanks, Carlos." She disconnected the call and returned her attention to the man standing before her. "Carlos days hello and he's on his way."

"No need to apologize," Tim replied. "If anyone should be apologizing, it should be me as I got dragged into an incident out in the ambulance bay trying to help restrain some high as a kite guy paramedics brought in who attacked two orderlies. So sorry for that delay, but how can I be of assistance?"

Emma contemplated her words carefully. She knew that Carlos had provided Tim with portions of their situation but she hadn't been privy to those conversations so she didn't know exactly how much had been discussed. "You're familiar with how my husband got here?"

"I'm sure I don't know all of the details but I know that Carlos rescued you from up in the mountains after your husband was stabbed by someone. He also told me that the attacker was still at large which was why he chose to bring you here for my oversight…"

"He's here," Emma interrupted, not wanting to waste too much more time explaining right at this moment. "I just saw Killian's assailant, Nehemiah Kronk, in the cafeteria a few minutes ago. He was carrying around a box of flower bouquets, probably pretending to be a florist…"

"Okay, in that case, why don't you come with me?" Tim suggested, reaching for the radio clipped to his belt. "Let's go look at the security camera footage so you can point out the man, then I'll have my people get this place on lockdown…"

"No, you don't want a lockdown," Emma stopped him. "That might push this guy to do something rash. I don't want to put anyone else at risk."

"Okay, Sheriff," Tim began, taking her warning under advisement, "how do you think we should proceed?"

"Well, the first thing I need to do is get to my husband. He doesn't even know any of this yet but I don't want to go back through the cafeteria to the main elevators in case Kronk is still there. Is there some other way to get upstairs?"

"There's another elevator back this way that isn't open to the public. Your husband is still in the ICU right?"

"Yes. He was sleeping when I came downstairs to get coffee so he doesn't know Kronk is too close…" Emma stopped when she realized she was rambling, worried that Tim might think she was unstable.

"Do you think this Mr. Kronk knows your husband's room number?"

"We've kept that information pretty quiet so I doubt it. My parents don't even know the room number, but Kronk knows how seriously wounded Killian is. I don't know if he'd think about ICU though."

"This is a very large hospital campus so there are a lot of rooms for him to search unless he knows where to begin. Obviously, he would eliminate certain floors like pediatrics, but it will still take a while. Our staff is trained to protect our patients' privacy, but if he starts talking to other patients or their families and friends, we can't control what information they might give out."

"We're going to have to get Killian out of here," Emma stated as Tim pushed open one of the double doors into the Emergency area. "And we've got to do it fast, before Kronk finds us."

"This guy's pretty tenacious to have hunted you down. What exactly does he want from you?"

"I honestly don't know," Emma replied and she didn't even have to skirt around that answer. She really didn't know for certain why Kronk was trying so hard to find them. "It feels like he needs something from us and maybe it's about something that happened after the attack… I just don't really know…"

"Hard to gauge the intent of some people," Tim said, not questioning her vague response. "Now, I'll be happy to help you both out with getting your husband moved to another facility, but are you sure about this? It might not be safe to move him."

"No, it might not be, but I have to weigh which would be the bigger risk – potentially causing my husband further injury by moving him or the possibility of putting others in danger if Kronk doesn't find what he wants?" Emma's dilemma was certainly a valid one and she sensed that Tim didn't envy the choices she was facing. She knew she would also be making this same argument to medical staff very soon, but she didn't doubt her decision and she knew that neither would Killian. No innocent people would be put at risk for their sake.

By the time Carlos called back, Emma had already engaged in two separate arguments with medical personnel who didn't agree that Killian should be discharged and moved to another facility even if his condition had improved overnight. Tim Stillwater had intervened as best he could, explaining that it was a necessary relocation due to personal security concerns for the law enforcement officers. Tim was in agreement that remaining here at Mesa General wouldn't be safe for anyone so Emma had made a phone call to Dr. Whale, requesting a favor from him to set up a fabricated transfer of Killian to a private, unnamed location. After a few minutes of protesting, Whale agreed and had his administrative assistant draw up formal-looking instructions which were sent to Killian's attending physician in Arizona. The Mesa medical staff had finally relented, still voicing their disapproval while a nurse began disconnecting the multitude of monitors and machines he'd been connected to.

With Carlos only a few minutes away, Emma was hurrying to help Killian get dressed while Tim and his staff kept a watchful eye on the hallways and security camera monitors for any sign of the man Emma had identified for them in footage filmed earlier. Getting Killian clothed however was proving to be a more daunting challenge than planned due to his mobility limitations, and he was growing increasingly frustrated by his inability to perform even the simple task of pulling on his own trousers. She'd grabbed the most basic pair she could find amongst the clothing Carlos had acquired for them a few days ago – elastic waist, soft fleece pants which weren't too dissimilar to the ones Emma often wore to bed.

Killian despised this helpless feeling as he lay there allowing his wife to dress him. His chest still itched from the irritating adhesive that had once secured various medical sensors to his skin and he was anxious to be rid of the last remaining tether – the IV catheter taped to his forearm which was delivering a last dose of medication. He might as well get the last of the pain medicine before they departed this building. Emma had a long-sleeved, button-up shirt draped across his waist and was digging his boots out of the backpack when the nurse returned to yank out the IV, placing a bandage over the tiny crimson bubble left behind.

Emma gave her husband a quick sideways glance as she gathered up their belongings, shoving them nonchalantly into the backpack while awaiting their friend's call. As much as she was loathe to admit it, she still found the sight of Killian's bandaged chest unsettling, but she did her best to keep up a brave face. She knew he was doing the same in attempt to bolster her spirits, but she recognized the cracks in the façade, knowing all of this exertion was bound to take a toll on him.

With his arm free from the tubing, Killian reached for the shirt, determined to do at least one thing for himself. Despite a mild tremor, he managed to hold up the charcoal grey shirt long enough to shove his maimed arm into a sleeve, tugging the fabric as far up onto his shoulder as he could manage, already thankful to no longer have his deformity on display. He then raised his right arm above his head, reaching behind his neck in attempt to grasp the collar of the shirt, but it was just beyond his fingertips. With his teeth already gnashed from the discomfort this position was inflicting on his body, he struggled with the reality that he was going to need to ask for help. Emma spared him that indignity though as she moved swiftly to his side, taking hold of the fabric and moving it into a position where Killian could grab it and maneuver the other sleeve so he could slip his right arm inside. The pain he'd just inflicted on himself was agonizing but at least he felt as though he'd accomplished something, however small, but he conceded defeat when he stared at the row of itty bitty buttons.

"Could use a hand with these, Love," he said, eyes still downcast with embarrassment.

"Of course," Emma replied without judgement, recognizing how difficult all of this was for him. She buttoned it as rapidly as she could, wanting to be ready to move the moment Carlos called. Killian didn't even fight her as she pulled socks onto his bare feet then shoved his boots on. He was basically ready to go as soon as an orderly brought them a transport chair.

It was Tim Stillwater who first poked his head into the room though, informing them that one of his guards spotted Kronk on the floor below them, delivering one of the bouquets Emma had seen him carrying earlier, evidently in attempt to maintain his cover. He seemed to have no indication that he'd been made which was Emma's one consolation. Kronk was just getting too close though, she fretted, so caught up in that thought that she practically jumped when her phone rang. Carlos' timing couldn't have been better.

The conversation was brief – Carlos instructed her to meet him outside by the ambulance bay. She relayed the plan to Tim who ducked out of the room in search of the tardy orderly while Emma tossed their last few items into the backpack, the last of which was the specimen jar containing the broken tip of the dagger. They were going to need this later.

In minutes, they were ready to go and despite some minor grumbling on Killian's part, Emma and the orderly managed to get the pirate maneuvered into the wheelchair. He wasn't particularly enthusiastic about his wife having to push him, still cursing his inability to walk, but with no other choice available at the present, he swallowed his pride and accepted the aid.

Handing Killian the backpack to hold onto while she pushed the chair, Emma was noticeably tense while they awaited Tim's signal that Carlos was in position. Tim had already waved off the orderly, circumventing standard hospital protocol in this situation to avoid additional sets of prying eyes. So many thoughts were swirling through her head but her primary concern was for Killian. The morphine would wear off soon, plunging him back into severe agony. It pained her to even think of subjecting him to it all over again but hopefully, Grandmother would have a solution.

"Carlos is here," Tim announced as he re-entered the room. "Coast is clear to the service elevator, but we need to go now. I've got two of my men guarding the main elevators and one watching the east stairwell. They've been ordered not to engage Mr. Kronk should they encounter him, but I don't want to push our luck."

"We're ready," Emma assured the security chief. "No one else has spotted Kronk yet?"

"We've been keeping a close watch on the security cameras," Tim began as Emma carefully spun the wheelchair around, then pushed it through the doorway and made the turn to her left. "Unfortunately, the cameras don't cover all areas, but unless something has changed in the past few minutes, he's still on the third floor." Emma nodded, quickening her pace as Tim led the way down the unauthorized corridor toward the private elevator.

Reaching the ground floor, the elevator doors parted to reveal another uniformed guard standing sentry. The guard stepped aside to allow them to pass while confirming to his boss that their quarry wasn't in sight. No words were spoken as Tim cleared a path through the busy Emergency area for Emma to follow, making their way toward a side door that exited into the ambulance bay which was typically only used by paramedics. On the other side of that door, Carlos stood outside of the Park Service SUV and he immediately jumped into action to help Emma get Killian into the vehicle. They had to do this quickly as they didn't want to remain out here, exposed, for too long.

While Emma and Carlos scrambled to get her mobility-impaired husband into the relative safety of the SUV, above them, Nehemiah Kronk had reached the fourth floor, closing in on their prior location. Intensive Care was a little trickier for the former Marshal to navigate as the rules generally permitted only immediate family. He'd approached the desk in his guise of delivery man, inquiring about a patient by name of Killian Jones and very briefly explaining that he had a delivery from the patient's family back in New England, but they hadn't known his room number. The nurse behind the desk denied him any information, but as he listened to her response about patient privacy and safety, Kronk's eyes were soaking up every little detail around the desk. He noticed that the rack of patient charts contained six clipboards, but the names or codes printed on their labels were far too small to read from his vantage point so he mentally tried to correlate them to the surrounding rooms that might appear to be occupied. Out of the eight rooms in this ward, six had closed doors and but open curtains to allow nurses clear view of the patients, one had an open door and open curtain, and the eighth had its door open but curtains were drawn closed. If occupied rooms were indicated by those closed doors, what was different about this possibly unoccupied room that led to its curtains being closed?

Kronk grinned at his good fortune as an alarm suddenly drew the nurse's attention away. In the brief seconds that her back was turned to focus on another patient, Kronk darted into the room with the open door, prepared to apologize should the room be occupied but he couldn't help but indulge his curiosity that this room could be related to the pirate.

Ducking inside, he could tell that the room was either occupied or had been very recently vacated as the bed linens were still rumpled and a not-fully depleted bag of IV fluids still hung above the bed. The patient's chart had already been removed so Kronk took a brief inventory in hopes something might have been left behind that could confirm the identity of the room's occupant. The countertops were bare and monitors were already powered off, but he realized that the trash can hadn't yet been emptied as a basic brown, heavily taped cardboard box caught his eye. He snatched the box out of the waste can and a smile widened across his face as he recognized the addressee – Emma Jones, Care of Ranger C. Littlecreek.

The remainder of the address label was torn but he had enough evidence to confirm his suspicion. The Storybrooke savior and her pirate husband had been here, the injury he'd inflicted on the pirate severe enough to warrant Intensive Care treatment and scrutiny. He also realized that it meant that the item he sought likely wasn't here any longer. A surgeon would certainly have removed it, probably with complications, but it meant he'd still have to track down Sheriff Emma and his first clue was the second name on the discarded package.

C. Littlecreek. Ranger?

Was that how they'd made their way off of the mountain? Assistance from a Park Ranger?

He tried to speculate how this new information would aid him when his train of thought was momentarily derailed when a young, dark-haired woman clad in flowery scrubs strolled into the room pushing a small cart, presumably to collect the used bed linens.

"Oh, sorry," the startled woman stammered. "Wasn't expecting anyone to be in here…"

"Apologies," Kronk replied, plastering a fake smile onto his lips. "The patient who was in this room, Mr. Jones, do you know what happened to him?"

"Sorry, all I was told was that the patient room was empty and I got sent to clean up," the woman responded.

"Ah, well, someone Mr. Jones knew back East sent him a get well bouquet that I was trying to deliver. Unless we have a new location to deliver it, I guess it's going back to the shop," Kronk explained, hoping it would make his presence less questionable.

"Afraid I can't help you," the young woman stated as she yanked the blanket from the bed. Kronk smiled at her one last time before exiting the room, thankful that the nurse at the desk was still occupied and didn't appear to have noticed his nosing around the vacant room without authorization.

Pausing in the elevator lobby, Kronk took a moment to gather his thoughts and ponder his options. Had the pirate been move to a different room within this same facility or had he been discharged? The latter seemed unlikely from Intensive Care, but then the possibility remained that Jones died. If he wasn't dead, he might have been moved, but was he still here or had he been transferred to another facility? There were still dozens of rooms to search in this building but while he knew he was on the right track, should he keep searching or regroup and try another approach?

He thought about that second name on the torn address label, C. Littlecreek. He wasn't in Texas so the title of Ranger most likely would refer to a National Parks Service Ranger, the same inclination he'd had earlier, before he'd been interrupted. A fortuitous encounter with a Park Ranger had likely saved the pirate's life and it didn't seem like much of a stretch to think that the Sheriff might have befriended that same Ranger. She'd obviously had her package mailed to the Ranger's address, probably a place of employment based on use of the title. A Park Service field office maybe?

Now, armed with this new lead, he was convinced he was close. His prize was well within his grasp and with that, he'd be home soon.

Tagging @killian-whump for this latest update as I think I forgot to tag her on the last chapter. (I realize that this chapter is a little light on the whump unless you want to count bested by a button down shirt) Not done with the pirate just yet though. If anyone else would like to be tagged for future chapters, please let me know!

#cs ff #cs fan fic #cs fan fiction #captain swan ff #only a little superstitious

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cinematicalee · 4 years ago

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Review of Blackfish (2011)

Read the review under the cut!

The aptly-titled Blackfish is a documentary that focuses on a killer whale, Tilikum, who has killed multiple people while in captivity at SeaWorld. In doing so, it also discusses and details the suffering of killer whales in captivity at establishments like SeaWorld, Loro Parque and Sealand of the Pacific. Furthermore, it also revealed the inhumane methods used to capture the aforementioned killer whales and separate them from their pods. The title “Blackfish” is useful in both capturing the audience’s attention as well as hinting towards the content of the documentary, as the film later states that the term was created by the indigenous First Nations people and fishermen of America. It also posits a more positive term to use as the “killer” in killer whale has connotations that promote dangerous opinions of the animals.

The film was produced by Gabriela Cowperthwaite and Manuel V. Oteyza and written by Cowperthwaite, Eli Despres and Tim Zimmermann. Cowperthwaite was the sole director. Executive producers Judy Bart and Erica Kahn funded the film and Magnolia Pictures were in charge of publishing the film for wider release in 2013. It can be speculated that this wider release was aimed towards activists, both budding and veteran, as well as people who have been or were considering visiting SeaWorld. It could also be geared towards people who have a general interest in marine life. Truthfully, anyone can watch this documentary as it conveys the information in a clear manner, and without the use of scientific jargon.

Additionally, as the documentary mainly used unscripted testimonials from useful sources such as, but not limited to, scientists, experts on whale research, former trainers from SeaWorld, and family members to the late victims to deliver the information, it could be argued that it is mostly unbiased. SeaWorld as a corporation and people who currently work there had refused to comment for the film, which makes sense when one considers that it would have damaged their brand. Unfortunately, this resulted in some viewing the documentary as a witch-hunt. It must be said, however, that there is an instance wherein clips from SeaWorld from what appears to be casual conversations and public tours are used, and the information garnered there was disproven by testimonials. This further cements the idea that SeaWorld’s absence is a calculated choice.

Being published in 2013, the information is not as current as it could be in 2020, but relevance is more important than being up-to-date. The material presented is based off archived case records detailing injuries to the trainers, and studies that were done on orcas for years beforehand that were proven, therefore it is all relevant to the present-day, as it has not changed. I had watched this documentary on a recommendation due to my general interest in orcas and found the information in it to be enlightening and useful, especially the methods used for trapping and capturing them as that was not something that had occurred to me previously.

The visuals of some of the attacks that were captured on footage were a bit graphic and there were no warnings presented beforehand but was also incredibly effective in revealing how dangerous it is for humans to be in contact with captive orcas. Otherwise, most of the visual content were interviews, post-courtroom footage and clips from news broadcasts, which were not entirely interesting to watch, and wildlife footage of orcas. There are few instances of soft background music that does not distract from the footage but provides ambient noise to accompany the person speaking. Overall, the documentary was enjoyable to watch and edifying, and provided information that the general public might not have thought to access, or would have been unable to view themselves.

The presentation was a bit depressing but this was important for the content as it is a serious issue in animal activism, and in my opinion, there is no way to present data like this in a positive manner as the data itself is depressing. Yet, despite its depressive nature, the documentary is able to hold the viewer’s attention throughout as one is filled with questions such as why people would participate in these activities, why trainers remained at SeaWorld despite incidents that were happening and lives that were being lost, why SeaWorld is still in operation, etc. As such, the film places itself in the viewer’s memory and urges the viewer to do their own research on these questions. The conclusion is a bit disappointing as it ends with a few lines of information and footage of some of the ex-SeaWorld trainers going whale-watching. Though it is possible that the clips of free orcas are used to incite positive feelings in viewers.

In conclusion, this documentary is an easy recommendation for anyone who has an interest in marine activism, and I have personally purchased the DVD. Improvements that could be made are adding warnings before graphic footage, or even at the beginning of the film, for people who are sensitive towards that sort of content, and a more informative and less abrupt ending would have wrapped things up nicely. Input from active members of SeaWorld would have been useful but that is beyond the control of the producers as SeaWorld had repeatedly declined to comment.

#honestlee #blackfish #blackfish review

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scotianostra · 7 years ago

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On November 1st 1969 Morag Siller the actress, voice artist, and radio personality was born in Edinburgh.

Morag was adopted along with her twin brother, soon after birth, she also had two older sisters and a brother who were adopted separately. She was brought up in the Morningside area of Edinburgh. She was educated at nearby James Gillespie’s High School, where she wanted to be a policewoman but fell short of the, then height restriction at 5'4".

Now usually when putting these together I tell you that the persons acting earned them a place on Taggart, Morag never appeared on Taggart but I read that on her way home from school, she came across a television crew filming an episode of Scottish police drama and thought "I want to do that" and so she caught the acting bug. A few of her friends had been asked earlier to be in background scenes but shewas too late in finding out and was gutted to miss out.

She joined Edinburgh Youth Theatre and took classes at the Edinburgh Acting School with the future This Life star Daniela Nardini. Leaving school at 17, she headed for London, where she trained at the Sylvia Young School and at Rada.

While studying she got her first paid role as a dancer in David Puttnam’s film Memphis Belle. From there Morag starred in many theatre productions as well as TV roles in amongst others, Hetty Wainthrop Investigates, The Bill, Trial and Retribution and Marchlands. She also had recurring roles in Casualty, as Leona, a lonely bag lady, Emerdale as Marilyn Dingle and maybe for fans of the Scottish drama serial, Monarch of the Glen you might recall her as champagne-swigging Flora Kilwillie, of which she remembered spending most of her time “getting bitten by midges and falling in lochs”.

In 2005 she married Tim Nicholson, a classical musician. They had been about to adopt a child in 2011 when Morag Siller was diagnosed with breast cancer.

She became a patron of two cancer charities, for which she organised fundraisers, and had hoped to resume the adoption process. But the cancer returned and she was told it was incurable.

Morag Siller sadly passed away at the age of 46 on April 15th 2016.

I was going to post a pic of Morag but as this is the second post today that we have lost someone to cancer. Don't watch the clip if you don't want to listen to a very touching speech by Morag less than a month before her passing. RIP Morag Siller https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i4Qwqk1i2WI

#scotland #scottish #actress #RIP #Cancersucks

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junker-town · 6 years ago

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Kobe Bryant is still telling his story. Are we falling for it anymore?

Bryant has always been the serious lone-wolf, but his style might not work in the social media age

Kobe Bryant’s new ESPN show Detail opens with tense music, followed by a full minute of silence as the camera pans to Bryant at the controls of a dark room, laser-focused on a projector shining light into his face. Basketball, here, is not jazz; it’s more serious, more surgical. Detail is “meant for debate, not to entertain,” the opening clip warns, like a pseudo-edgy anti-PC YouTube video.

Kobe turns the spotlight on himself in the first episode. He plays a jab-step jumper he missed over Carmelo Anthony in the 2009 Western Conference Finals, while Trevor Ariza was open for three at the wing. He chastises himself but offers a method to the madness: on that particular play, he had an opportunity to demoralize Anthony — and by proxy, the Nuggets — by going for the jugular.

An enlightening moment in a fairly enlightening show. Kobe, after all, understands the game better than almost anyone on the planet.

Regardless, it’s hard to conceive of Detail as more than a vehicle for his legacy-building project, a convenient microphone. Bryant projects too much Machiavelli to imagine him enjoying anything for its own sake. Everything must be a means to an end.

Robert Hanashiro-USA TODAY Sports

If Kobe has beef with this rendering, well, he should take it up with himself. He wrote his own story to the public, better than any politician could have. Bryant understands what our collective imaginations yearn for: our willingness to suspend disbelief and forget ugly truths to anoint a legend, so long as it’s the right legend. He lived it.

Kobe, the ruthless individualist with an all-consuming, almost murderous desire to win, wove a great tale. It allowed him to wield his five championship rings like a lone wolf, as though Shaq never won three of those Finals MVPs, and Kobe didn’t shoot 6-for-24 in Game 7 of the 2010 NBA Finals. It was enough to make his fans overlook the alleged events of June 30th, 2003 in Eagle, Col., when he was accused of raping a 19-year-old hotel employee in his room. In the months and years to come, Bryant embraced the negativity greeting him around the NBA and reframed himself as the anti-hero of his own story. Hell, Bryant’s short film, Dear Basketball, collected hardware at the #MeToo Oscars.

With LeBron James coming off a historic playoff performance that centered him alongside Michael Jordan in the greatest player of all time debate — a debate Kobe thought belonged to him — Kobe is spinning yarn again, on Twitter and in interviews. But in an age of stronger bullshit detectors, where memes can dismantle flimsy narratives, Kobe’s storytelling is finally facing blowback, making a top-10 player of all time look like an amateur grifter.

Matt Sayles-USA TODAY Sports

After the Finals, Bleacher Report’s Howard Beck asked a roundtable of NBA legends about LeBron’s legacy, including Bryant. A common theme emerged: Kobe’s musings on greatness, rings, and conversations he’s had with Jordan were so different from everyone else’s that they bordered on absurdity. It was stagecraft that was too obvious to be effective.

The interviews were conducted separately and condensed together, but I like to imagine a real roundtable, with Bryant cutting in with a triage on championships and his will to win like a vegan who hasn’t told anyone they’re a vegan all day.

Everyone's answer vs Kobe's answer pic.twitter.com/fmKXkHxrnH

— EL FOOSAY (@SheHatesJacoby) June 11, 2018

There are times he just looks out of touch, like when he took a joke about the Detail curse -- the idea that players Kobe analyzes on the show perform poorly the next game -- seriously and told basketball writer Jared Dubin to #growup.

#growup https://t.co/6kVVV7bzSa

— Kobe Bryant (@kobebryant) May 31, 2018

Bryant later told Tim Bontemps of the Washington Post: “It’s just not for them. They have simple minds. The show is not for simple-minded people, the people that do that sort of stuff. They’ve got to grow up. We’re looking at this show from a deeper level.”

He’s also liked some interesting tweets.

Social media no longer allows celebrities to weave their stories alone. The only tenable response is to play along, poke fun at the whole enterprise, or ignore it. Nowadays, a sense of humor can buy a mile in exchange for an inch.

Kobe’s approach isn’t giving fans much of a chance to miss him. Bryant’s essence -- the serious demeanor, motivations rooted in both insecurity and cockiness, clasping at his legacy with a death-grip, not allowing anybody else to have a say in it — remains on display. His is a self-serious style that worked better with his fingertips on a basketball, not resting on a keyboard. For a player who turned every perceived slight into an edge, levity might be impossible. Kobe can’t just laugh off the haters. Haters are his everything.

Robert Hanashiro-USA TODAY Sports

But why are there so many of them? And why the fervor? Kobe’s return to the spotlight has brought out of the woodwork people who think they have to obfuscate to prove LeBron is better than him.

The goal, in some instances, is deeper: a treatise on the value of score-first players. Is Kobe Bryant, some snickering kid will tweet today, just Vince Carter with two jersey numbers?

With spin warriors on both sides yelling into their bubbles (or not), screaming into the void (or not), making their points without ever really knowing or even getting a grasp on who is winning, it is clear that the battle over Kobe’s legacy is still hotly contested. He is a symbol, a touchstone, a moral signifier.

His value answers a question that in our changing times not only applies to basketball but to life. Do the Kobe’s of the world still win? And if so, is today their reckoning day?

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thethespacecoyote · 8 years ago

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This ran away from me real fast but I enjoy it enough to post it

Jackothy real world corporate AU I guess? Except they’re brothers so like if you’re uncomfortable with that please don’t read it! It’s supposed to be kind of dark and messed up with Jack being manipulative so. Yeah.

Timothy had long ago learned that there was a threshold of wealth that, once crossed, rendered any and every thing permissible.

It wasn’t just ludicrous spending, either, though his brother had quite a taste for that. Six shower heads in his personal bathroom. Private jets with an escort for every seat. Aged steaks and fine bourbons and chocolate flecked with gold-leaf.

The sheer excess was insane, but gaudy displays of wealth weren’t the only things that Jack indulged in as soon as restrictions of self-respect and accountability were lifted.

When you could buy and sell the dignity of others, your own mattered only to the stockholders and your PR team. Closed doors and private offices shielded the ultra rich from fallout of any taboo.

Tim slips his ID card into the reader, licking his lips in trepidation in the seconds before the light beeps green and the door to the foyer of Jack’s office opens wit a metallic swish.

He greets Meg with a tip of his head and a small, tight smile, and she waves him in. Jack has been expecting him.

Of course he has.

Tim flattens down the heather blue of his suit, running a shy hand through his hair as he pushes open the door to Jack’s office.

It’s brilliant, the entire west wall consumed entirely in a floor length mirror that bathes in the shine of the city of Helios down below. Lesser skyscrapers pepper the view from the floor above Jack’s office, but little but the snowy mountains in the distance dare to dwarf the tower of Hyperion, the testament to Jack’s wealth and control.

And there in his massive desk atop a raised dais sits Jack, his feet kicked up upon it. His fancy leather shoes part to reveal his smirking face, the soles slamming on the floor as Jack adjusts his posture, sitting up straight in his bright yellow chair.

“There’s my boy,” Jack grins at his brother, showing the canines that Tim swear seem to grow in size and length with each coming day.

“You bring the plans for me?”

“Yeah,” Tim ambles forward slightly at an angle rather than moving straight to Jack’s desk, observing his brother like the predator he knows him to be, “Weapons Development is ready to move on them as soon as they get your approval. I understand we’re hoping to get this line out by the fall?”

“That’s the plan, cupcake. Unless they screwed up big time, we should be able to manufacture these suckers in bulk in time for Advertising to do their magic.” Jack purs, resting his chin on his hand as he watches Tim slowly make his way over to the desk. Tim’s shoes—black suede, a birthday gift from Jack—clip on the steely steps, a timid metronome that makes Jack’s grin widen with every tick. He holds out his hand to Tim, fingers waggling in anticipation.

Tim rubs the ring on his finger—a simple steel band, set with canary tourmaline and garnet, another present from Jack—as soon as he gives Jack the plans with the other hand. Jack deftly flips open the manila envelope, eyes flicking over the plans, grin smoothing into a more serious, business-like expression before he sets them down flat against his desk.

“What d’you think of the scope placement?” Jack taps his finger against one of the blueprints. Tim raises an eyebrow, peering over the plans.

“It’s improved over their last proposal…but I’m worried that it might weight down the barrel too much.” Tim presses his own finger down next to Jack’s, the tips touching as he traces over the thin blue lines. Jack worries his lip, rubbing his chin with his other hand.

“Tell them to reduce the size and maybe slim it down a bit, maybe? Other than that? It looks fine to me. Great, even. Super.” Tim lifts his fingers from the table, his hands joining together at the small of his back.

“Hyperion hits it outta the park again, huh? Love it.” Jack grits his teeth at the end of the sentence, hissing in delight as he folds up the plans, pushing them to the other side of the desk with his picture frames and other things he is disregarding for now.

Timothy feels something dark crawl up his spine as Jack’s attention shifts fully to him. He swears that the air changes, even though Jack keeps his office at a crisp 71 degrees—cold, business sterility shifting into warmth fueled only by the needing fire now lighting in Jack’s eyes.

“Is there anything else you need from me?” Tim asks, just to fill the silence.

A lazy creak sounds as Jack relaxes back into his chair, one hand resting on the arm, the other crooking a finger at his brother.

“Come here, Timmy.”

Tim skirts the desk, hands still folded behind his back as he stands before his brother, his heart picking up its pace, against his will.

Timothy watches Jack fingers the entire way, from the moment they unfold like an octopus’ tentacles from his palm, from the way they slide like blood through the water of the air, the way they curl into the black silky of his tie. He watched as Jack’s thumb rubs over the golden tie bar, smoothing the material in the shine of the window behind him before he tugs it forward, with Tim following. His back bends in a resigned bow as Jack yanks him against his mouth with practiced ease.

Jack’s mouth is cool today—it’s still early in the morning, and mouthwash is fresh on his tongue, not yet soured in the blood of steak or the smoke of a midday cigar.

Timothy doesn’t remember the last time Jack has kept his mouth closed while kissing him, their meetings are always dominated by teeth and tongue with the gentle press of lips merely ancillary. Tim’s air is consumed by Jack mouth, sucked out through his lungs to bolster the force of Jack’s own exhales, the huff of breath from his nose hot on Tim’s skin as they kiss. Tim keeps his eyes closed even when Jack lets him free to grasp at some air, his body acting on touch and sound alone as he slips forward and settles over Jack’s thigh, nearly sitting in his brother’s lap. Jack’s arms wrap around him like snakes, tying him close as his palms smooth up Timothy’s back. Tim hears the scratch of his nails as he digs his fingers into the fabric of his suit. His eyes finally flutter open, his brother’s face mere inches from his own. There’s a moment of quiet observation on Jack’s lips until he realizes Tim is staring at him, and then it breaks into a greedy grin.

“Wanna help the big boss unwind, pumpkin?”

Timothy doesn’t respond, but his hand gravitates down to Jack’s crotch, the tent in his charcoal dress pants already glaringly obvious. He cups his brother’s growing bulge, massaging it through the fabric. He feels Jack’s fingers dig somehow harder into his back as he pushes up into Timothy’s hand.

He knows his unspoken role at this point, has learned it well ever since the aftermath of Jack’s first major takeover when he’d slammed Tim atop the glossy boardroom table and mounted him like some vicious, red-mawed lion, mane bristling in victory. Tim had been thunderstruck, heart torn between pleasure and terror and disgust, all three of which had since melted into a pot of resigned gratification. He carefully unzips his brother’s pants, parting the dark fabric to reveal nothing but tan skin underneath—because some habits die hard even with a sudden glut of wealth and prestige—that he takes carefully into his palm.

After making sure he’s balanced on Jack’s thigh his other hand goes to relieve his own dick from his pants, letting the slim member slip out from his fly. He uses that hand to brace himself on the back of Jack’s chair as he begins to stroke them both in one hand, jerking their cocks together in a way that gets a pleased purr brewing in Jack’s broad chest.

Jack turns his chair with a careful push, the seat groaning under their combined weight as it grinds around until Timothy’s back is facing the huge, crystal window, the warmth of the cresting sun shining down on him, heating his back as Tim works warmth out of his cock from within.

Together they teeter on the very edge of pleasure with only a sheet of glass separating them from the long plunge into scandal, into tabloids and moral outcry. But they remained entwined within one another, seamless and stolen away from prying eyes. Their indiscretions concealed, even up here, with Jack able to buy enough height to hide his sins above the clouds.

Jack’s arms are fully binding Tim, now, his hands arching up to grab his shoulders from behind as he grips Timothy impossibly close and makes them move together, their pants and gasps and thrusts thriving as one beast, one monster seated atop a throne of gold. Tim moans against Jack’s ear as his brother bites into the side of his throat, licking the wound with a burning-hot tongue as he wrenches his hips upwards. Tim clenches his hand around their cocks, a tight pleased sob bursting from his lips as Jack makes them both come.

Timothy lays gasping in his brother’s lap for a few moments longer, eyes fluttering shut, imagination deluding him for a brief moment before Jack is patting him impatiently in the ribs. Tim rises to his feet, watching with a frown as the beads of cum trail undisturbed down the silky surface of his pants. He tries to put his cock back into place without making a further nest, tucking the limp member back into his cat-print boxers. Jack’s own cum is smeared over the hem of his brother's suit, with nary a drop at all on the man himself.

“Get that dry-cleaned. We’ve got dinner with Maliwan and Vladof tonight, and I want you to wear that suit.” Jack comments as he flips open his wallet, slipping a heavy, steel credit card between Timothy’s fingers. Timothy holds it for a moment, feeling its weight, its edge, before he slips it into his pocket.

“Of course.”

#text #long post #fanfic #jackothy #////incest #please heed that warning yo

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bethgreeneishopeunseen · 8 years ago

Text

The Weak Will Inherit the Earth

The Beth-related promotion has been building since the midseason finale. Over the last week I have received several messages from three separate anons in regards to the social media activity of past actors, especially Grady actors. I then researched these actors on my own, and it all comes back to Beth, in so many ways. Because I received so many asks, I will be breaking this meta into section.

Tagging @vampireselene89 since she noticed some of this stuff before I could post it in the tag.

Anon 1. (only one message)

Anon 2. (Messages 1-2)

Amber Dawn Fox (ADF) played Officer Bello, a Grady officer who had no lines (X). She was a background character, but she was at the forefront of the action when Beth was shot. She was the dark-haired woman next to Shepherd. ADF is an up-and-coming actress based in North Carolina, and she has acted in various small roles and indie projects. Over the course of the ten days, she posted twice about TWD.

Source (X) (X).

ADF regularly promotes her IMDb page (X; she retweeted this one), and she edits the page herself (X). Which means that the information on her IMDb page can be trusted and should be accurate (X).

As of right now, ADF is scheduled to film only for an upcoming movie called Realm, as everything else is in post-production. The movie is based off the Realm book series by Kayla Lambert. The movie will be filmed this summer in Halifax, Nova Scotia (X) (X). (The author also lives in Nova Scotia for reference; X.)

ADF will play Agnes, the villain. Realm was originally going to be a local TV show from Isle of Skye Productions, with plans going all the way back to 2014 (X) (X). (In the trailer I linked, you can see ADF at 1:08.) (ADF was casted for the show back in July 2014; X.) The show would have been filmed in 2015, but production was pushed back. Later Multiverse Entertainment Partners took over the project (X). Perry Ball, who will play Tim Morrison, is President of Multiverse Entertainment Partners, ended up crowdfunding the movie (X), and his company has five projects planned for this year (X).

The interview that the second anon mentioned was released on November 27th, 2016 (X) (X):

“OF THE PROJECTS YOU’VE WORKED ON TO DATE, COULD YOU PLEASE TELL US WHICH PROJECTS WERE HIGHLIGHTS FOR YOU?

The Walking Dead will probably always be a big highlight for me. Not only was I able to be a part of such a huge show, but I was a fan as well. I have a couple of upcoming projects that I am sure will be highlights, one that I have been waiting to work on for a couple of years now. So stay tuned!

[...]

ARE YOU CURRENTLY WORKING ON ANY PROJECTS?

I am currently working on a web series called “Edge of Darkness: Full Circle”. It has a lot of local NC actors in it, so it is a lot of fun. I have some big things coming up that I will be working on next year, but I can’t give any details on those yet.” (emphasis mine)

ADF regularly advertises Realm on her social media, as does Perry Ball. If the president of the company feels privy to discussing the project on social media, then ADF should be allowed to mention the project in an interview. Just name-dropping the movie would be good for publicity. As I have mentioned before, I think TPTB will release a miniseries to cover Beth’s story from those missing 17 days and catch her up to Team Family’s timeline. If Bello survives up to TF’s timeline, then we should see ADF again in TWD. ADF filming for TWD would not conflict with filming for Realm. L@uren C0han is the top-billed, and she only appeared in three episodes of 7a; N0rman also filmed a movie while filming for TWD. ADF would have a signed an NDA before she started filming two years ago, and she’d still be bound under contract. Right now she’s hinting at those projects in order to prepare the audience. Furthermore, a month later she posted about “huge things happening [...] in 2017”. She also said said that she wasn’t allowed to share the others yet, which means she is under contract.

Source (X) (X).

While her post about 2015 being practice could be referring to Realm, as the project has been in the works for almost as long as the Beth Conspiracy, she still didn’t mention it.

Anon 2. (Message 3)

Chris M. Cook posted two throwback pictures over the last ten days. He liked the two replies about him coming back that people left on his initial post. It’s interesting that he posted twice about TWD over a period of ten days like ADF. I wouldn't be surprised if they asked to/told to by TPTB. It’s a good way to seed Beth connections right before the midseason premiere.

Source (X) (X) (X).

Source (X).

Anon 2. (Messages 5-6)

We will see Grady again, after Beth returns. Going by missing spoilers (X), TPTB filmed at the Newnan more than what we saw onscreen, and TPTB also built the elevator shaft in the studio. Beth will likely escape down the elevator shaft again, successfully, and she will then lead a group from the hospital. Rick formed his core group mainly from the quarry people and the Greene family farm. Beth’s group from Grady, which would include any surviving good cops and wards who escaped with her, might have been absorbed by the Junkyard group. They would want a doctor, and if Edwards survives the trip to Virginia the Junkyard people might allow Beth’s group to join their community in order to have a doctor. While she would likely become the eventual leader of the Junkyard community, I think she would still have her own inner group, like Rick has his at Alexandria.

In an interview from November 19th, 2015, ADF discussed Officer Bello’s character: X.

“BG: What sort of preparation did you do for the role? Did you give Officer Bello a backstory?

ADF: Because I didn’t have any lines, I was never given a script. So, going in the first day I only knew that I was playing a police officer. I didn’t know anything about the situation, so I just did research and studied a lot of videos on the Internet of cops. After the first day, I saw a bit of what was going on, so I then created a backstory for Officer Bello.This was what I came up with: Officer Bello was single before the zombie apocalypse. She saw her job as her life, and some of the cops were good friends with her. That is why she stays in the hospital, even when things take turns for the worst. It is what she knows, and she doesn’t feel comfortable going out and venturing in to the unknown.

BG: In that final scene of Coda, your expression is so intense as you pulled your gun on Rick and the others. How was your character perceiving the moment? As a supporter of Dawn or one who was ready for her to go?

ADF: I felt she was one of the “good cops” compared to Dawn and a couple of the others. She was probably ready to see Dawn go, but at the same time she wants to defend this place that has kept her safe. When Dawn goes down, she thinks it is about to become an all out war in that hallway.” (emphasis mine)

The interview stuck out to me primarily for three reasons. “All out war” sounds weird in context, especially in the sentence’s wording. ADF was likely coached in what to say about Bello for the interview, as “all out war” is the name of the Negan-war arc. Last year, I speculated in a collaborative meta that Bello was one of the good cops (X). I also speculated that Bello accidentally shot Beth while attempting to hit Dawn. @bethgreenewarriorprincess received an anon pointing out the gun smoke that appeared behind Shepherd’s shoulder after the shootings. (Shepherd didn’t have a weapon as TF’s took her gun.)

Going by who was on Shepherd’s left, Officer Bello is the most likely culprit. Bello had her hand on her gun right before Beth was shot, and she was the perfect angle.

ADF has a a Theatrical Reel (X), and it includes the clip of Shepherd calming the two groups after Beth and Dawn were shot. At 0:35 in the video the mustached officer on Shepherd’s right glances at Bello. They were in on the assassination attempt together. (A few weeks ago I found an old meta from the 5b hiatus that also goes into this topic: X.)

Dwight killed Denise while attempting to kill Daryl because the crossbow had a kick like a bitch. TV!Denise was designed as a Beth proxy. She was a secondary character, and TPTB gave her Beth-like qualities and characteristics and then filled her death episode with tons of Beth parallels. In addition, Rosita attempted to assassinate Negan, but she hit Lucille instead because “she got in the way”. Rosita then got a facial laceration which may scar. Bello will become an important character during the second Grady arc.

Anon 2 (Messages 7-8)

Nothing to add here except that she’ll be training with weapons and physical combat. If Beth’s group is coming back at the onset of the AoW arc, it makes sense the actors would be trained as that’s when they’d do the more intense play fighting.

Anon 3. (Two messages)

Santiago Cirilo played a member of the prison in season 4. He was the man who shot in the back as Glenn and Maggie were escaping the prison.

He is the man behind Tyreese and Daryl.

Source (X).

In old theory of mine, based on two other blogs’ theories, I theorized that Lilly Chambler actually survived (X). The only confirmation we have of her death is what Tara saw Glenn, and Tara was clearly shellshocked during the battle. She easily could have thought she saw her sister be swarmed by walkers and not see Lilly make it out. The group thought Tyreese was swarmed when they were on their way to the veterinarian college, and yet he survived. She might have been able to save Julio with her training. TPTB went out of their way to make her a nurse, yet we barely saw her use her training. Bello, Julio, Lilly, all of these characters are the kind that the audience would write off as weak and/or dead. These are the characters that no one would be looking for. @bethgreenewarriorprincess made a good point: What could be weaker than people who appear to be nobody, nothing, like Daryl said. Those that live at a junk yard. And then @allatariel pointed out that Jesus lead the souls out of the Underworld while he slept in the tomb on Holy Saturday. She compared Beth’s possible group to an army of the formerly assumed dead. Beth would be building her group, amassing her “followers”, on TWD’s Holy Saturday, which is Beth’s unseen timeline from 5b to her return.

As Morgan said all those years ago, the weak will inherit the Earth.

#team delusional #realm movie #amber dawn fox #the junkyard #asks #grady

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