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anothertimdrakestan · 4 years ago

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Heat Waves (TimKon)

Words: 3k

Hi! I’m so glad you’re here! I’ve been working on this for way too long and definitely have a pt2 planned out if you guys like part one! I hope you’ll take the time to read this because I spent way too long on it and I’m pretty happy with how it turned out!

for the like 0.1% of my audience that this overlaps with, yes, i too am utterly obsessed with Heat Waves for DNF and have been listening to this song on repeat for three days straight waiting for chapter 8. But, i figured why not let that amazing piece of absolute art inspire a Timkon fic cuz they have the same dynamic as DNF in my eyes! All credits go to tbhyourelame on ao3!

if you don’t know what heat waves is that’s fine this is just a regular fic but I highly recommend you checkout the amazing song here

It was as hot as death itself in Kansas. Not to mention a farm with no AC was just about the worst place Conner could be forced to “vacation” at. But Ma and Pa had been begging to have him over and the month of June just seemed to overlap, so there Kon was, sweating buckets in the middle of nowhere.

It felt so cold in Gotham. Though, the temperature was comfortable- the most comfortable it had been all year- but Tim always felt colder, lonelier, when Conner wasn’t by his side. The two of them were a duo, fitting together like a puzzle piece, the absolute best of friends and best of heroes. But now, he was using his mandatory away-from-the-tower weeks up while Conner was in Kansas, it was some sort of mandate that Bruce’s kids come home occasionally and instead of suffering weekends in Gotham Tim opted to just grind out a few weeks at the manor, even if it meant dealing with Damian’s unrelenting murder attempts. But it wasn’t all bad, Tim got to patrol with Bruce again, hang out with Jason occasionally, and even see Dick from time to time. “Family” bonding at it’s finest.

“Hello?” Tim’s voice was quiet, Kon constantly felt himself turning the volume button up on his phone just to hear a decibel more of his best friend’s comforting tone.

“Hey Timbers how was your day?” Conner felt himself relaxing to the light sound of Tim breathing, he was laying on the floor, spread like a starfish so that no sticky part of his body could touch and create more sweat.

“Nothing much, no patrol tonight- I guess you remembered,” Tim’s voice was filling his ears. I remember everything you tell me. “Yeah, yeah I did,” Conner quickly replied. “Any boring farm chores today?” Conner heard the familiar rustling, he could hear Tim stand up, he’d memorized the sound of Tim taking him off speaker and resting the phone in between his shoulder and ear. He could hear Tim’s hair, that he knew he was probably growing out, brush the mic. I always liked his hair longer.

“Kon?” Tim snapped him back into the stiflingly hot room. “Oh sorry, it’s really hot here, kinda makes me zone out. Um, I’m alright I got to hangout with the cows today which was cool- they don’t like the heat either but Ma says it’ll be over soon,” Conner rambled, all too focused on Tim’s breath in his ear.

“Sorry for making you zone out, I guess nothing interesting is happening here,” Tim sighed, Conner shook his head, rolling over on the floor, leaning down into the mic of his phone.

“Nothing about you bores me Tim,”

Tim didn’t reply. Conner mentally cursed himself, he was really too tired, too hot and bothered to be this flirtatious with Tim, who was a complete wild card when it came to Conner.

And then he answered, Tim’s voice was higher pitched, the way it ascended when he was blushing- he was blushing. “Well that’s not true, I’m very boring. When I’m doing cases or training or-” Conner couldn’t take it.

“Nothing about you could bore me Tim. I’m down to be with you whenever, doing whatever, you know that,” he felt his tone soften, loving the way Tim’s breath hitched with every compliment.

“Be with me?” Tim shot back playfully, Conner could practically hear the smirk toying on the smaller boy’s lips.

“Did I stutter?” Conner heard a loud noise, a thump. Tim’s voice was high pitched again, “Sorry- uh I dropped my phone,” Conner felt himself growing warmer, if at all physically possible. “No problem. So, what are you doing tomorrow with Bruce?” Conner didn’t like pushing Tim too far, hell, he barely knew how he felt half the time. Tim’s voice brightened, “Oh! We’re gonna go to this old ice cream shop I adored as a kid! It’s been too long since I’ve been there, you remember me talking about it?”

Conner didn’t need a second to answer, “Sub 30, you always get the one with the espresso poured over it,” he couldn’t lie, ice cream sounded absolutely heavenly at the moment. Tim’s voice flooded through the heat, “Right as always- I swear they programmed some sort of photographic memory inside of you,” Tim teased, Conner answered honestly, “I just listen when you tell me things”. The night went on, Tim quickly had to go, believe it or not he did sleep when given the opportunity. “Try not to die of heat exhaustion, drink lots of water throughout the day, not all at once,” Conner smiled, “will do, goodnight Timmy,” Tim answered mid yawn, “night Kon”.

And then he was alone. Alone with the heat, with his thoughts, the latter far more dangerous. He’s my best friend, of course I remember everything. Conner found himself staring at the ceiling, Ma had painted constellations on the walls and ceilings of the room, something funny about alien genes liking the stars. Conner used to be able to find every pattern, name every star, but the only shape he could trace was Tim. There were his eyes, they were pools of deep blue, they sparkled when he laughed but could glare bullets when he tried. If he stared hard enough Kon could find his hair, it’s always soft and smells delicious, layers falling effortlessly- cascading to frame his face. Then there were his lips, Conner found himself constantly mesmerized with the way Tim bit his bottom lip when thinking, the way they scrunched together when he said something funny, how they constricted when he bit the inside of his cheek just enough to hide the emotion he was so scared of portraying. They were perfect.

He let the heat take his mind, flowing with the stars as he thought dangerous thoughts about his best friend. His thoughts danced around Tim’s waist, flowing carefully around his chest, wrapping Kon in every layer of Tim’s personality, every smile, laugh, tear, scowl, it was Tim. Kon’s Tim.

And there, on the floor, he drifted to an uncomfortable, sweaty sleep.

Tim was scrolling aimlessly through his phone, Gotham was surprisingly boring. He once found the city bustling and distinctly alive but now it only left him cold, cold and bored.

“Ice cream as good as you remember?” Bruce’s voice lifted him from his device. “Yup! Can’t believe you let me have espresso at like 10, you basically started my addiction.” Tim threw on a smile, glancing down at the half eaten dessert. “Yeah, can’t say I was the best father but, I tried,” Bruce’s shoulders shook lightly, but the laughter didn’t make it to his eyes. Did you really try? Truly? Tim dove back into the creamy sweet, admiring the bitterness the espresso brought the flavor. His phone buzzed.

K: Did you get the ice cream?

T: yeah, you remembered?

K: You literally told me last night

T: have i been off your mind since?

K: No.

Conner always did this, every time Tim thought he’d throw him off guard with something funny or flirtatious just to have a little fun Kon took it and ran with it. And I’m always the one who ends up blushing. Tim thought, shaking his head. It was really his fault he let Conner get him riled up. They were best friends, flirting or dealing out little sexual quips were natural, and often pretty funny.

“Earth to Tim? I’ve got a meeting you wanna head back while I head to the office?” Tim glanced over at Bruce who was now standing up in front of him. “Yeah, I can work on cases back at the manor, you gonna head to the office?” stretching his arms he stood up, noticing Bruce had put on his business face- the one stone cold and dry that only brought back the worst memories. “Yes.” His response was gruff, Tim suppressed the shudder that tried to dance down his spine. “Uh yeah, I’ll head back, have a nice day B,” he smiled, hoping it made it to his eyes.

“You can’t keep calling me while I’m on patrol, it’s not safe,” Tim chastised Conner loosely, appreciating the company as his patrol with Damian was always deathly silent. “C’mon, you’re used to having me in your ear,” Tim gulped, glancing around for Damian who was three buildings over, deeply uninterested. “Kon, oh my god, I’m gonna mute you,” Tim whispered, revelling in the chuckle that stirred in Conner’s chest. It was deep, and warm, so distinctly warm Tim felt the heat budding in his chest.

“So, patrol with the demon? He hasn’t cut your grapple line yet?” Conner’s tone was low and silky smooth. Coughing to clear his throat Tim replied, “nope, he’s most horrific when Bruce is here, when he’s not the punk couldn’t care less whether I live or die,”

“I care,”

“I know Kon,” If only you knew how much I appreciated it.

“Asshole, can you hear me? I said we’ve got a gang robbery on second? You coming genius?” Damian’s disgusted tone flooded over his comm, and Tim quickly turned his attention to the bat-brat who was already grappling towards the alarms and shouts. Conner’s whisper asked, “can he hear me?” and Tim replied, “no, you’re on a separate channel, Dami can only hear me when I unmute. Just be quiet while I take out these thugs,”

“Why? Because my voice distracts you?” Conner’s tone shifted into dangerously flirtatious.

“No, cuz you’re annoying as shit,” Tim smirked, running across the top of a building, letting Damian call the signals so he didn’t get all upset.

“Do I make you uncomfortable Tim? Do I make you forget just exactly what you’re doing, whether you want to use your batarang or bo staff? Do I make you, warm? Because it’s so warm here, so hot, god I’m just so hot I-”

“Shut. Up.” Tim struck the gun out of a scared looking man. Rolling his eyes at the man in his ear.

“Why? Are you too focused? We’ve taken out much harder criminals all while talking. Aren’t we just talking right now?” Kon’s voice was ringing in his head like never before.

“I’m trying to focus but it’s no good when you’re in my ear.”

“And what if I wasn’t in your ear? You remember? When we work side by side, so close- are you an affectionate person Tim?” Tim could feel the heat dripping off of Conner’s voice, but he was taken aback by Conner’s new line of thought.

“Wha- what? Am I affectionate? I don’t know. Sometimes?” Tim almost missed a hit, huffing as Damian blocked what would’ve been a hard blow on him. “Start paying attention Drake,” Damian’s tone was acidic. But he was drawn back into his com as Conner’s voice flooded his ears again.

“Would you be affectionate with me?”

“Yes” Tim’s breathless reply was instant, his brain not giving him a chance to think.

“Good, I like that. You know I’m very affectionate too? I like getting to hold the people I care about close, feeling their warmth. You know I’m very warm right now?”

“I- I know Kon, I bet, are you doing alright? Drinking water?” Tim shook out the thought of Conner lazing out in his room, sweaty, lips parted as he pushed out warm breath- Stop. Focus. Your job is to defend these people. Damian’s doing a good job, You just have to round up the civilians. Tim forced himself back into the real world, taking on one of the gang members with ease, tying him up swiftly before moving on to the next.

“I heard that, I can hear it every time you take out one of those men. This is easy isn’t it? I can’t be that distracting to you. You’re too good.”

“You always do this,” Tim felt his cheeks heating up, his steps felt forced, like he had to remind himself to breathe. Tim carefully rounded up civilians, escorting them to safety as Conner started again in his ear.

“Always do what Tim? Tell you how much I appreciate you? How much I miss you? Do you not think you deserve to be missed? To be loved?”

“Conner” Tim’s tone was harsher than he wanted it to be. But nonetheless Conner continued.

“Why not? Why the hell not? You’re amazing Tim.”

Tim scoffed, playing it off as a cough to the people in front of him.

“What do you need to hear Tim? That you’re amazing? Brilliant?-”

“Oh my god Kon-” Tim interrupted, but Conner wasn’t done.

“Talented? Impressive? [his tone deepended] - Attractive?”

“I’m gonna hang up,” Tim was breathing so hard he was practically hyperventilating. The compliments were all that consumed his thoughts, swirling around his brain, packing it full of deep, dangerously flammable thoughts.

And Conner was ready to let it burn.

“You need to be kissed Tim,” Conner murmurs, throat raw, “so hard that you can’t remember your name- maybe then you’ll understand what I mean.”

The batarang in Tim’s hand clattered to the floor. Damian’s head whipped to him as Tim struggled to regain function.

“I’m muting you, see you in a bit,” was all Tim could choke out before he ripped the earpiece out, unable to let it sit, burning into his skull. You’re almost done here, cool down, finish up. Tim told himself as he manually reminded himself to breathe. You’ve got this.

Conner knew Tim ended the call. But he didn’t have the energy to stop the endless beeping from the disconnected phone.

He was laying on the floor of his room, limbs spread out as he clawed for anything that could cool him down, but all he could feel was heat as he stared up at the stars.

He had to admit, he’d pushed Tim further than ever before. But it felt too right to stop, too good. He couldn’t stop replaying the way Tim’s breath hitched after every word, desperately grasping for the feeling budding up in his chest. It was too addictive to not let the words he’d spent too long crafting pour from his lips into Tim’s heart.

Kon didn’t know how long he laid there, dazed in the heat, just trying to relive word after perfect word.

Until his phone rang.

“Tim?” his voice was ragged and raw.

Tim’s was high pitched and tight. “Conner what the hell was that? Was that funny to you? Saying all those things- flirting with me while I’m trying to do my job?”

“Flirting?” Conner mused, staring at the stars with a tattered smirk on his face.

“Don’t act dumb, I don’t know what kind of sick joke it was saying all that while I’m on patrol but I’m glad you think you’re funny,” Tim’s voice was cold. But not the cooling tone, it was sharp, like the way the freeze of ice can feel so painfully hot when applied too harshly.

“I would’ve said it to you no matter what you were doing,” Conner whispered, resting his phone on his chest, wincing at the sticky noise it made as he tried to adjust it’s positioning.

“So that was just all for you? To let you listen as you screwed with my brain?” Tim retorted.

Conner was done dancing around the truth, all forms of control eluding his mind. “Yes,”

“That’s cruel Kon, can you imagine if I did that with you? Told you how you needed to be kissed while you’re out with Jon or something?” Tim sounded exasperated, but at the end of each quip Kon could hear the deep breaths he was taking. Does- Does he like this?

Tim continued. “Don’t answer that. Shut up, I know what you’re gonna say. ‘Oh Tim it’s not the same,’ just- just get out of my head!”

Conner sat up. He was floating. Floating in the middle of his room, the phone on his chest tumbling to the floor as he scrambled to grab it again, feeling his feet touch the ground as he held the phone as close to his lips as he could.

“What do you mean Tim? How am I in your head?” Do you feel the same way I do right now?

“You- you just know me. So well, and when you say stuff like that- when you’re in my ear saying those things your voice, it’s like fire, it burns.” Tim sounded desperate, his voice painfully strained.

Conner’s head was spinning, “I burn you?” he matched Tim’s desperate tone.

“You melt me.”

Conner’s head slammed against the roof of his room, as he tried to regain control of his senses he heard Tim murmur, “does that make sense?”

“More than you know Timbers, more than you know,” Conner could hear Tim let out a sigh, the kind that told him all would be okay.

As Conner took a deep breath, steadying himself for what was to come Tim spoke first. “It’s so late Kon, I’ve been up to long, I think I need to go to bed,” Tim’s tone was soft again, the cooling, comforting tone that Kon was scared he’d never hear again.

"Yeah, I- uh, have chores in the morning anyways.” Conner answered, hoping to give Tim some peace of mind.

“Okay, sounds good. Goodnight Conner,” Tim said quietly, his tone thoughtful and slow, finally letting the sleep crowd his mind.

“Goodnight Tim, talk to you tomorrow?” Conner let too much hope sink into those last few words.

“Yes, night now,” Tim answered easily, quickly hanging up the call, letting Conner sink down back into the carpet of his floor.

“Tomorrow,” Conner whispered to himself, feeling the intense heat start to creep back in as he drifted into a sweaty sleep.

“Tomorrow,” Tim whispered to himself, trying to swallow the nerves he didn’t know Conner could draw out of him.

“I’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

not my usual fic but I really hope you enjoyed!

taglist: @vintageroses10 @idkmanicantenglish @kishony-the-geek @foenixphire @how--are--you @psych0crybaby @romance-is-tragic @birdy-bat-writes @subtleappreciation @officiallydarkgeek also kita cuz i love u and wanted to try writing timkon more in your style hehehe @river-bottom-nightmare

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mischiefandspirits · 3 years ago

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Damian tugged down his face mask as he looked out over Gotham city. He was finally here.

After two decades of anticipation, after nearly a decade of work, it should have been a happy occasion.

He tugged the mask back up as he heard a scream nearby.

He stopped three muggings, saved a woman from assault, and stopped a robbery by the time a flicker of purple started following him.

He scared off some men that were following a woman then pretended to take off northward before ducking around a water tower and sneaking up on his pursuer as they tried to follow. He took them in before approaching.

They looked about five foot six. The dark body armor and cloak hid their build some, but the way they carried themself proved they were muscular even if not overly broad. As he grew closer, he could see that the armor was primarily black with dark purple detailing that matched the cloak’s color. They also wore a full face mask like his friend Vesper’s, though theirs had white lenses that stood out against the black fabric instead of being completely black like the older vigilante. They were cautious, yet sure-footed as they raced over the rooftops which showed a familiarity with the territory and an understanding of its dangers.

Similarly, their growing annoyance showed they’d realized they’d lost him so Damian swooped in to pin them against an air conditioning unit. They tried to throw him off, but his larger size and superior skills kept them pinned long enough to bind their hands and tie them to the unit.

“Who are you and why are you following me?” he growled, crossing his arms and looming over them.

They stared at him for a moment, head tilting to the side, then snorted. “No wonder he got mistaken for B a few times. Are you seeing this guy?” the young woman -- judging by her voice -- muttered to herself before saying, “I’m Spoiler and I’m following you because you randomly showed up in Gotham and started playing vigilante. Don’t you know Batman doesn’t like that?”

“And yet, here you are doing the same.”

“Excuse you, I’m Batman’s partner. I earned my place on these rooftops.”

“Right.”

She tilted up her chin and crossed her arms. “I am!”

Damian frowned, but didn’t move to redo the ties she’d slipped. Vesper had told him that his father was a solo hero. Batman worked with the Justice League and the Birds of Prey as necessary, but he’d never had a permanent confidant or taken on an apprentice like some of the other heroes. The closest thing he had to partners were the Batgirls. According to Vesper, though, neither ever developed a close bond with the man. The two might be called in as backup or would team up with his father when their paths crossed, but they never depended on one another. His father was more of an inspiration, patron, and occasional teammate than a partner to either woman.

Spoiler didn’t seem to be lying, however, and appeared too forward to be capable of deceiving him. Had something changed in the four years since he’d talked to Vesper? Perhaps he should have gone with his original plan of waiting to go out until after he’d spoken with her the next day after all.

Hindsight and such were not going to change the present, however.

He looked over the woman again. Girl, he realized. Given her proportions, she was likely in her mid-teens though he could be wrong as the armor was rather concealing. An apprentice, then, which explained why she had not fallen beside her supposed partner. The mission his father perished on must have been deemed too dangerous for her to accompany him.

He carefully thought over his next words. He was not ready to announce his presence yet as clearly he had some research to do and he needed to speak with Vesper. He also didn’t know how trustworthy Spoiler was. Even if she was telling the truth about being his father’s partner, that did not tell him just how far his father’s trust in her went and therefore how far he should trust her in turn.

He stepped back from the girl, dropping his arms and attempting to take on a less antagonistic posture. “Then I am sorry for your loss.”

“Loss?” Spoiler questioned.

“Batman’s death,” he answered slowly. Had no one told her?

“What? Batman’s not dead.”

Oh, no, she was simply trying to hide the truth. “My contacts within the Justice League say otherwise.”

Batman's death had left Flamebird uncharacteristically despondent of late, understandably given how close his father and Damian’s were and the fact Flamebird had been on the mission where Batman perished.

“Someone’s going to get an ass beating,” she muttered, storming to her feet. She poked him in the chest. “So what, you find out Batman’s gone and decide that means you have a free pass to just do whatever you want in my city.”

Damian pushed her hand away, fighting down the urge to stab it. “As I think we’ve established, I had no idea you existed. I simply had business in Gotham and thought I’d do some good for a recently undefended city.”

“Yeah, well, now you know the city is being defended.”

“By a child, yes,” Damian scoffed before he could stop himself and the girl bristled.

“Who the fickle frack are you to judge me?”

After being momentarily stunned by her euphemism, he answered, “I am Ẓill.”

She stared at him and slowly shook her head. “Yeah, no offense, it’s def a me problem, but if I try to say that I will totally beat it to hell and back with a tire iron then set it on fire and spit on it just for good measure. Is that an alien language?”

“Arabic.”

“Shit. Yeah, okay, that’s why I’m sticking to the Romance languages for now.” She glanced to the side. “Do you know Arabic?”

“I-” he started, but she waved him quiet.

“I thought you were going to learn after the last run-in with… Okay, yeah, that’s fair. So… Well of course he can, the little polyglot.” She turned back to Damian as he started to wonder if the girl was insane. “So your name translates to Shadow. Mind if I just call you that because, again, I will not be responsible for the atrocity that leaves my mouth if I try to pronounce Arabic without time to practice.”

“Shadow is fine.” She wouldn’t be the first, as it had taken both Flamebird and Beacon awhile to learn how to pronounce his name properly, and the Ismoian still called him that on occasion as a nickname. More accurately she called him Shadow the Hedgehog, but that was a reference he refused to investigate given Flamebird’s reaction to it. “Who are you talking to?”

She gestured to the side of her head. “Augur. He’s our eye-in-the-sky computer guy. Hacking, running comms, information gathering, strategy, all that fun stuff.”

“I thought Oracle worked with Batman when he needed assistance with that.”

“Oracle? I mean, she helped train Augur and helps out when he needs a hand, but she’s got the Birds of Prey and Vesper, not to mention helping out the Justice League sometimes. I think she used to do a lot more for Batman back before Augur, but she’s got her own shit to do now. Augur’s our main man.”

He really should have waited to speak to Vesper. Clearly his information was more out of date than he thought.

“So, Shadow Weaver, what brings you to Gotham then?”

“Shadow Weaver?” He growled when she nodded, radiating amusement. That was clearly another reference he didn’t want to know anything about. “My being here is none of your concern.”

“Random unknown vigilantes being in my city are, like, the definition of my concern,” she said, cocking a hip.

“Your city?”

“Yeah, my city. So either tell me why you’re here or get lost.”

“And if I don’t?”

She shifted into a fighting stance. “I’ll make you.”

Damian snorted at the threat, then was yanked backward by his hood. He brought his hand up to defend, which was knocked aside.

He froze when he recognized the featureless mask staring down at him.

“I told you to keep your head down,” Vesper reprimanded, poking him in the forehead.

“If you had warned me that Batman had picked up a disciple this wouldn’t have happened,” he huffed and Spoiler pretended to gag.

“Ew, gross, don’t call me that. Makes it sound like I worship B or something, which, yeah, no.”

“Stop picking fights with Spoiler,” Vesper said and poked his forehead again. “Batman is already going to be mad enough.”

Damian’s eyes darted away from his friend and, behind Vesper, he saw Spoiler flinch.

Vesper let him back up and shoved him away. She turned to Spoiler. “I’ll deal with him. He’s a friend. Sorry.”

The girl nodded and left.

“Come on.”

The older vigilante led him to the rooftop of a clock tower. She used a biometric scanner to unlock a hidden hatch and they slipped inside, dropping down ropes into a workspace.

There was an elaborate computer setup in one corner, oddly lacking a chair, and a workout space in the other. Mirroring that was a modest medical area in one corner and a kitchenette in the other with seating at the island. Elevator doors stood between the computers and medical area while a couch and some chairs sat at the center of the room.

Pulling off her hood and mask, Cassandra led him to the couch. He removed his own hood and mask then pulled his katana off his back to lean against his leg as he sat next to her on the couch.

“You look good,” she said, glancing over him.

“You too. It’s good to see you again.”

She nodded, then lightly slapped his arm. “What were you thinking, Damian? I know I told you how protective Batman is of his territory.”

Damian’s left hand came up to trace the phoenix engraved onto his right bracer. “When was the last time you spoke to someone in the Justice League?”

She frowned, studying him. “I have been on an Outsiders mission for the past month, and was busy with a show the month before that. If Oracle has worked with them in that time, she hasn’t said anything. Why?”

“A little under a month ago, a JL team went on a mission. I don’t know the full details, but it had something to do with Darkseid and… Batman did not make it back.”

She didn’t react visibly, but her voice was soft when she asked, “You are sure?”

“Jon was on the mission. He said Batman was vaporized right before their eyes. I’m sorry.”

She bowed her head and closed her eyes. After her moment of silence, she looked up at him, face blank. “Why?”

“Why?”

“Why are you here? Why do you care? You’ve always been interested in Batman, but this is… more.”

He sat up straight, hands fisting on his thighs. “I told you my name was Damian Naji, but that was a lie. My name is actually Damian al Ghul. My mother is Talia al Ghul… and my father was Batman.”

She studied him. “Batman… did not know?”

“Not as far as I am aware. Mother told me she told him she miscarried because I would be a distraction to him and the cause. After everything you’ve told me about him, I think she and Grandfather were just worried he’d take me from them. If she told him after I left, I don’t know.”

“Why didn’t you tell him? You could have come to him for help when you ran away from the League.”

“Tt. You know how I was back then. I was everything Father stood against. He wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with me. Not until I could prove I was worthy of him.”

She reached out to take his hand. “That’s not true. He knew my past and he accepted me.”

“You killed one person, instantly regretted it, and never killed again. I spent almost ten years as an assassin. It’s not the same. Besides, you were just an occasional teammate. I’m…”

“His son. Which is exactly why I know he would have loved you. Batman cares deeply for those who he considers his own. Even Oracle and I. He keeps -” She frowned and looked down. “He kept his distance from us, but only because he felt he didn’t have a right to us. Oracle had a parent and was independent, only needing help getting her feet under her. I was an adult, legally, when we met and Oracle took on my training since she was the one who found me and had practice working with younger heroes due to assisting Black Canary with the Justice League’s minor division. Had he found you, though, he wouldn’t have hesitated. You would have been his.

“He would not have been happy about how you were raised, but he still would have loved you. He would not have turned you away, even if you had wanted to continue down the path of an assassin. He would have seen that wasn’t what you wanted, though, and taught you a new way. You would not have had to do it on your own.”

Damian shook his head. “No, I had to prove that I wasn’t what my mother made me. I had to prove I could follow his rules, only then could I present myself as his heir.”

“You wouldn’t have had to prove anything to him.”

He pulled his hand away to trail it against his bracer again. “Perhaps you are right. You knew him better than I. But I did have to prove it to myself.”

She shook her head and wrapped an arm around his shoulders despite him being a head taller and twice as wide. “How?”

“My first kill was on my sixth birthday. I was fifteen when we met and I decided to leave behind the League’s ways in favor of Father’s. It… took me longer than I liked to push through the instincts to kill so on my sixteenth birthday I made an oath. Ten years of saving lives to atone for ten years of taking them. Only if I reached my twenty-sixth birthday without taking another life would I come to Gotham.”

“That is why you’ve come.”

“No, my birthday is still a few months away, but… Jon told me what happened. I realized I was too late so I am here to… I thought if I could never present myself to Father absolved of guilt, I could at least protect the city he devoted himself to since I believed it was now undefended.”

“You did not know about the others,” she chuckled.

“You told me he worked alone,” he growled.

“He did when we last spoke.” She pulled away, tilting her head. “Am I your only source for information?”

“Yes. I did not know if I could trust any other source given his reclusiveness.”

“But I only told you about Batman. What about behind the man under the cowl?”

He slumped back against the couch.

“You do not know who he is,” she said, amusement in her voice.

“Mother always told me I would learn who he was when I’d earned it. The only things I know are that I am his only family and heir. That’s why I asked you to meet me. I wanted to do this properly and cover his responsibilities in and out of the mask, but I can’t do that without knowing who he is. I’d hoped that either you would know or you could help me figure it out.”

She hummed and glanced to the side.

He followed her gaze to see a clock on the wall. It was nearing two in the morning.

Suddenly she hopped to her feet and dragged him up. “You said you are staying at Hotel Belle Monico?”

“Yes, room 3215.”

“Go straight back there and get changed.”

He nodded, figuring she wanted to get some rest. “Alright. I’ll see you later then.”

After getting her confirmation, he climbed up the ropes and did as told. It only took him fifteen minutes to get back to his room and another twenty to change out of his vigilante attire, lock all his gear away, shower, and put on his sleeping clothes. Once that was done he started to debate whether or not to get some sleep or do a bit of research first.

A knock came at his door.

He grabbed the small dagger he kept on him at all times and palmed one of the knives he’d hidden around the room as he approached the door. He peeked through the peephole, then tucked both weapons into his waistband and opened the door.

Cassandra had lost her own suit in favor of a casual teal dress and gold-brown leggings. She frowned as she took him in and started shoving him further into the room before he could say anything. “Get dressed.”

“What’s going on?”

“Clothes.”

Well aware he wasn’t going to get anything out of her, he slipped into the suite's bedroom and changed into some slacks and a polo.

“Good,” she said when he came out, then turned on her heel and left.

He quickly followed after grabbing his wallet and one of the room’s keycards.

“Where are we going?” he asked once they were in the elevator, but she just smiled at him.

The silence continued as they climbed into her car and she drove them through the city. He tried to ask again when they crossed a bridge out of the main city and into a neighborhood filled with mansions and old manors, but she remained tight-lipped until they pulled up to the gate of a larger manor.

She rolled down the window and hit the call button, which was soon answered over the video screen by an older gentleman in a butler’s uniform.

“Ah, hello, Ms. Cain,” the man said in a warm, British accent. “I was told you might make an appearance, but I didn’t think it would be so soon.”

“Hello, Alfred. Should this wait?”

“No, you might as well come in now. They’re all still awake after tonight’s events,” he sighed and the gates began to creak open.

“Sorry,” she said and he waved her off before the screen went dark.

Curiosity itched at Damian, but he stayed quiet as Cassandra drove up to the front door and they climbed out.

Alfred met them at the door. He gave Cassandra a kind smile then turned it to Damian. “Always a pleasure, Ms. Cain. And who is this?”

She looped her arm around one of Damian’s. “An old friend. Alfred, this is Damian Wayne. Damian, this is Alfred Pennyworth.”

He didn’t react to the name, assuming she’d just given him an alias, but the calculating expression on Alfred’s face as he stared at Damian’s had him second-guessing the assumption.

The expression was quickly replaced by a sad smile, however, as the man stepped back to allow them into the manor. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Master Damian.”

“You as well, Mr. Pennyworth.”

“Just Alfred, my boy. Please come in. The others are winding down in the family room.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” Cassandra said, then led Damian into the house by his arm. They went up the main staircase in the entrance hall and into the first door on the left where they found a room inhabited by a group of children.

The oldest were a pair of teenagers sitting on the couch.

The girl was white, but tanned with long blonde hair pulled into a messy braid and dark green eyes. She was thin but muscular and he could see her arms were covered in small scars thanks to her Gotham Sirens tank top. She was cradling a sleeping infant who was wrapped in a Wonder Woman blanket and clutching a stuffed Batman.

The other teen was more androgynous, body hidden under an overly large White Arrow hoodie and Supergirl sweat pants. They were Latine with their skin a pale brown and their eyes a silvery blue. Their hair was black and chin-length. They had a video game controller on their lap and a tablet in their hands.

The next oldest was a preteen boy with a book sitting sideways in an armchair, back against one arm and legs draped over the other. He was fair with freckles speckling his face around his navy eyes. His hair was short and a dark red, almost black color. He was thin and muscular like the girl, but there was a touch of broadness to his shoulders that spoke of a bulkiness to come with puberty. A German Shepherd was squeezed onto the chair with him, half-tucked under the boy's legs with his head on the boy's stomach for pets.

The last child was a few years younger than the preteen. He both had the most conditioned and the least combative build of the children, having more of a gymnast's figure. His skin was of a similar olive tone to Damian’s, though a few shades lighter, and his curly hair was brown-black. Damian couldn’t see his eyes as he was dozing on a rug in front of the tv with a three-legged pitbull puppy, both curled around a large stuffed elephant. A video game controller was abandoned behind the boy.

The three awake children turned to Damian and Cassandra when they entered. They all greeted her warmly, but the girl and boy eyed him warily while the androgynous teen studied him with sharp curiosity.

“Who’s your friend, Cassie?” the boy asked.

Cassandra shoved Damian further into the room. “Your brother.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So last month I made a post asking if anyone had written a story where the Robins' ages were reversed as is the trope, but they still got taken in by Bruce in the same order as well as giving some ideas for how that could work. No one ever got back to me on if that was already a thing so I figured I might as well write out one of the scenes that really caught my interest when brainstorming.

#batfam #damian wayne #cass cain #stephanie brown #batman #rabno #fanfiction

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kenkamishiro · 4 years ago

Text

Jack Jeanne Playthrough Part 3 (April 5)

1 month later. April 5th in the VN. Kisa is at Univeil and excited she passed the entrance exam. She runs into her childhood friend Yonaga who's also been accepted. He's shocked that Kisa is attending too, but before she can explain Suzu joins them, introduces one each other.

Quartz's theme is "transparency" where many inexperienced performers who haven't specialized yet tend to go.

Onyx = Jacks whose forte is in dance.

Rhodonite = Jeannes who specialize in song.

Amber is where talented and unique students gather.

Suzu theorizes Kisa would be in Rhodonite because of her appearance, himself in Onyx because his physical abilities make him more suitable for dancing than singing or acting. Yonaga would like to be in Quartz.

Yonaga: Quartz...would be nice.

Suzu: I get what you mean!

Yonaga: Huh?

Suzu: Tbh I enrolled in Univeil cause I really admire Tachibana Tsuki, the legendary Jackace of Quartz!

Kisa: ...!

Suzu: That's why I wanna be in the same class as Tachibana Tsuki...come to think of it, your last names are the same.

Kisa: (If people find out I'm related to Tsuki-nii, it might make it even easier for them to discover my identity...! But it might be better than lying poorly...)

Kisa: It's true. It's the same (nonchalantly)

Yonaga: ......

Suzu: Maybe you guys are distant relatives!

Kisa: *nervous laughter*

Yonaga cuts in and says they should go check which class they're in. Kisa thanks Yonaga for the save. Their year is the 78th class of Univeil. All 3 are in Quartz.

Kisa gets called to the headmaster's office.

Chuuza congratulates her and informs her about her admission. The only ones who know that Kisa is a girl is him, Quartz's homeroom teacher Enishi Rokurou, and now Yonaga, Kisa's childhood friend. Chuuza is surprised that someone who knew about Kisa enrolled in the school.

But if anyone else finds out that she's a girl, expulsion. But since a lot of students are feminine, she won't have to go out of her way to act and dress like a boy. He reminds her to build trust with the rest of the students, and aim to become a lead and aim for the top.

Kisa arrives to Quartz's homeroom late.

??: Yes, yes, come right in.

Kisa: (The teacher...? But he's in a student uniform.)

??: You were called in quite loudly during the school announcements. Did you run into any issues on the first day? Theft, robbery, manslaughter, extortion, coercion, or a bank robbery, perhaps...?

(Please watch the clip of this scene. Can you tell he and Furuta share the same VA? 😄)

Fumi: No one like that would be in our school, Kuro.

??: But wouldn't be great to have such a plucky 1st year around, Fuumin! All the world's a stage!

Fumi: And, if the cops came?

??: I concede! Law is what keeps society together.

Kai: ...you two are bothering the 1st years.

Kisa finds a seat by Suzu and Yonaga.

Neji Kokuto (3rd year, 76th class of Univeil) welcomes the 1st year students to Univeil and Quartz. Class leader-slash-scriptwriter-slash-director-slash...all kinds of other things! He provides an info-dump about Univeil for us.

5 performances in total: Rookie, Summer, Fall, Winter, and Univeil Exhibitions. The Rookie Exhibition is where the 1st years take the lead roles, which is going to be held May 30th. Today is April 5th, so less than 2 months remain. Most viewers will watch over them warmly, but others will be more strict, like journal reporters, critics and avid Univeil fans. Neji will write a script to allow even novices like them to shine on stage. Casting will be announced mid-April. Upper years are also participating and support the 1st years.

Neji: If you have any questions, all you need is to ask. I'm sure all our seniors here will be more than happy to help you.

??: What, no way.

Neji: With some exceptions of course! Mwahaha. Mikki's a 2nd year now, you can be a little nice to your juniors, hm?

??: ...

Kisa notes he looks cute like a doll. Shirota Mitsuki, noted for his singing. He catches Kisa staring at him, and she apologizes.

Neji asks if anyone has any questions. You're given 3 options: 1) How casting is determined, 2) Type of training to be done, 3) No questions.

Casting is based on Neji's subjective judgment. Everything from how they're doing in lessons, campus life, the way they walk, talk, physique, voice, facial expressions. Essentially based on his intuition, which he uses to find gemstones in the rough.

Training I'll explain later, there's gameplay related to it.

Neji finishes his spiel and passes it on to Quartz's homeroom teacher, Enishi. Pretty low energy. Lessons start tomorrow. Class is dismissed.

Suzu meets Kisa outside the Quartz dorms and asks if she's ready to introduce herself to the other students. He notes it's hard to find people since Univeil is so large. They chat for a bit, Suzu asks Kisa to call him by his first name, so Suzu-kun it is.

Inside Yonaga's dorm. He's finished unpacking, though he's still yet to put away his books (on theatre). He asks how Kisa got into Univeil, and she explains what happened. Yonaga says he'll help Kisa to make sure she stays at Univeil. He's glad that Kisa is here with him.

Yonaga: Kisa-chan, about Tsuki-kun...

Kisa: I can't get in touch with Tsuki-nii, but I'm sure he's doing fine wherever he is.

Yonaga: I see. Yeah, I'm sure he is.

(Isn't that sketchy? Maybe he turned into that weasel with the moon on its belly lol)

Kisa begins her search for the Quartz students. At the Univeil courtyard, Kisa hears Mitsuki singing.

"Within this chest of mine I dance, the rhythm of possibilities"

Kisa: (I'd heard he was lauded for his singing, but he really has a beautiful voice...the lyrics paint the scene in my head.)

Mitsuki: ...could you not stare at me like that? It's uncomfortable.

Kisa: Oh, I'm sorry!

Mitsuki: Oh, you again. The 1st year who came in late.

Kisa: Yes. My name is Tachibana Kisa. It's a pleasure to meet you.

Mitsuki: Huh...you've got a face like a girl.

Kisa: Eh? Y-yes, I suppose so.

Mitsuki: A high-pitch voice. A delicate figure. And a Jeanne at that. At least be aware of your own features.

Kisa: I-I'm sorry.

He sighs and introduces himself. 2nd year, 77th class of Univeil. A Jeanne and a tresor (songstress/diva) of Quartz. VA is Kajiwara Gakuto (Asta). Kisa compliments him on his singing.

Mitsuki: So you were eavesdropping.

Kisa: I-I'm sorry.

Mitsuki: Well, not like I care either way. Later.

Kisa: He left...I guess he doesn't really like interacting with people. But his voice really was beautiful.

(If I had to describe Mitsuki's tone, it would be similar to Kenma, but a bit more antisocial lol)

Kisa finds Kai in the forest, seemingly concentrating on something. She decides to come back later, but Kai notices her.

Kai: ...? Quartz's 1st year?

Kisa: Yes! I'm Tachibana Kisa.

Kai: I see, you're...

Kisa: Yes!

(awkward silence between the two)

Kai: Mutsumi Kai, 76th class of Univeil. I'm a 3rd year.

Kisa: So I should call you Mutsumi-senpai!

Kai: Kai is fine. You can call me that around other people too.

Kisa: But...

Kai: ...

Kisa: ...(agrees)

Kai: ...

Kisa: T-then, I'll call you Kai-san!

Kai: Okay.

Kisa notes Kai is the Jackace of Quartz. And since Tsuki was also the Jackace, that means he must be talented too.

Kai: I'm a vessel meant to garnish the Aljeanne. Nothing more, nothing less.

Kisa is confused by his statement. Convo ends.

Kisa runs into Neji next in the hallways. He enters a room then promptly comes back out.

Neji: Welcome!

Kisa: Ah!

Neji: What're you doing in a place like this?

Kisa: I'm going around introducing myself to everyone in Quartz.

Neji invites her into his workroom where he writes his scripts and plans his staging. But he also performs on stage, any male or female role, from a shining prince/princess to old grannies/gramps.

He's currently working on the script for Quartz, but he won't reveal it just yet. Kisa asks if the other class leaders write the scripts like he does, but Neji is a special case, who screenwrites, directs and performs.

Neji: Once you get carried away, you can't see what's going on around you. What we do has no end to it. Acting, dancing, singing, they're fields that you can pursue for a lifetime. You could reach the stars, or merely end up as a master of none. No matter how much time, it will never be enough. It's a terrifying world out there. That's why it's so engrossing. The stage is a colossal device. The Jacks and Jeannes make up the gears, and I am the craftsman who pieces them together. Let's create a fantastic stage together, Tachibana-kun!

Neji must continue writing, and wishes Kisa the best for the Rookie Exhibition. (Neji definitely talks the most out of the main cast lol. And fast too, talks a mile a minute and tone varies hugely)

Kisa finds Fumi standing languidly in the middle of the dance room, taking deep breaths before beginning to dance. A Japanese-style dance where his movements are gentle, beautiful and brilliant. He comments on Kisa staring intently at him, just like during the entrance exam.

Kisa is surprised that Fumi remembered, despite the number of applicants.

Fumi: I remember you and the red-haired guy well cause you two danced so terribly.

Kisa: Oh...

Fumi: I'm just kidding. Though the red-haired guy really did suck.

Kisa introduces herself, and Fumi pauses at hearing the name Tachibana. 3rd year Takashina Sarafumi, 76th class of Univeil, but he prefers being called Fumi, no senpai honorific attached. Kisa ends up calling him Fumi-san.

Fumi: Let's have fun, Kisa. (leaves)

Kisa: It's overwhelming seeing him up close. So that's the power of an Aljeanne.

Kisa goes to her room excited for her new life at Univeil and retires for the night for her 1st day of classes tomorrow.

＊＊＊

previous || next (to be updated)

#Jack Jeanne #Ishida Sui #JJ playthrough

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theatreslave · 3 years ago

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Recovery Ch 2

Second Chapter of my Manifest Fic Jared/Drea Fic

By the end of their first week as partners, Jared and Drea had gotten into an easy routine. Jared, like the lieutenant he is, would arrive at the precinct first. He would drop off a cup of coffee at Drea’s desk and then head over to his own. Drea would arrive a half hour later with some breakfast for the both of them, some days she would make something and other days she would grab something nearby.

Then they both would both be at their desks looking over files until one or the other needed some type of consultation. It was surprisingly easy. The banter was fast and snarky which fit their dynamic. When they were out in the field, Drea didn’t mind letting Jared take the lead. He was an amazing detective and seeing him in action first hand was a treat for her. Things had been pretty standard since Michaela left, thankfully no 828er drama or anything from the Xers. Just your run of the mill robberies, domestics, and crimes of passion.

Jared had been over to Drea’s two more times since that first night. Once to cook for her to prove that he wasn’t a terrible cook after a disagreement over tastes in pizza, long story. The next time was to watch a horror movie that Drea insisted that Jared wouldn’t be able to get through; he didn’t. At least not without turning all the lights on and some cuddles from Mimi.

Jared was surprised by how easy it was to get along with Drea without Michaela around. He had thought it might be awkward without a common denominator, but it was anything but. Drea was charming. As simple as that. She was always smiling, playful, and endlessly curious. Opinionated and stubborn. It made for some hilarious conversations and interesting bets between them. But she was also an incredibly competent detective. He had seen her put her rich upbringing to use, from finding connections to get them into exclusive illegal online auctions, to clearance for an emergency helicopter landing on private property. She could slip from one persona to the next seamlessly, happy-go-lucky rookie to experienced and connected detective. And Jared liked her. Not like that. But he enjoyed her company and was honestly happy to call her his friend.

Drea on the other hand was surprised to learn that Jared really did have a life outside of his Michaela obsession and his romantic escapades. He took hikes on his own and knew all the trails around the greater New York area. He loved cooking and playing cards. He was also as charming as could be. She knew he was handsome, everybody did. When she had started with the precinct she noticed, but he was married back then so she didn’t bat an eye. But having his attention on her, his focus, occasionally made her blush. Not that she liked him like that. She was actually very happy to call him a friend. Jared didn’t seem to mind her invites or challenges and that was all the encouragement she needed.

It was the end of a long Saturday that had them running around in search of a kidnapped child. Thankfully the culprit had a soul and only wanted the car. They dropped the kid off in a park and his parents’ stranger danger training had kicked in and he had run into a school that happened to have after school programs. The relief that had travelled through everyone in search of this child was palpable. By dumb luck a rookie had stumbled upon the stolen vehicle on the way home in Queens. The culprit had been arrested, the parents and child reunited, and all was well.

Jared was in a jovial mood after the day’s successes. He was perched on the corner of Drea’s desk urging her to hurry up with the paperwork for the day so they could grab dinner, “Come on Mikami, you can type faster than that.”

Before Drea could respond her cell phone rang. Recognizing the name she swept it up and shushed Jared, “Hi Mom.”

Jared smirked and decided to have a little fun. He made his way around the desk to stand behind her. Speaking louder than normal he said, “Drea, baby, hurry up, I wanna take you out.”

Drea smacked his arm hard, sending him into a fit of laughter. The few officers still at the precinct just ignored the two’s antics, a familiar sight already. “No Mom, that was nothing. Just my partner messing with me. Yeah, yeah don’t worry about it.”

Jared proceeded to poke her lightly but quickly in the side making her yelp. Before he could run, Drea was up, had tripped him, and had him in a headlock. Jared sputtered, turning red with amusement and embarrassment at his new position.

“Oh nothing Ma, I just stubbed my toe. Yes I will be careful. Don’t listen to him Mom, you know I have coworkers over sometimes. It’s nothing weird.” Drea squeezed a bit tighter when Jared tried to pry her arm away. He finally stopped struggling when he realized how strong she really was. “I know Mom, but do I have to? I told you I could take care of it. Mom, please? Fine, but I’m bringing my partner with me. Ok bye.”

Drea ended the call then proceeded to give Jared a noogie, “Hey watch the hair!”

“You idiot! You’re lucky my mom is hard of hearing or she would have had a heart attack. I’ve already had to convince her that you coming over was nothing. She’s already on my ass about being paired with ‘unseemly men’ all the time.” Drea said finally relinquishing her hold on Jared.

“Unseemly?” Jared said, loosening his tie, “Was the head lock really necessary?”

Drea smacked him again, “Grab your stuff and go home and shower and get into a new suit. I will pick you up in an hour and you are coming with me to this fundraiser my cousin is throwing.”

“Oh no no no, you are not dragging me along to one of your rich people functions,” Jared insisted.

“There will be free gourmet food and I will buy you those new Nike’s when they get released next week.” Drea bargained.

Jared held her gaze for a long moment then finally caved, “Deal.”

“Ok then I will see you in a little over an hour. Bye!” Drea said before hurriedly packing her things and then rushing out the door.

Jared stood in shock, wondering exactly what he got himself into, before he headed out the same way.

He didn’t want to look like a complete fool so he had opted for his higher end deep navy suit and brown shoes and belt. Jared’s shirt was a light yellow and his tie matched with a deep blue and yellow pattern, perfect for spring. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and nodded his head. Not too shabby considering it was last minute. Honestly he probably should have asked Drea what exactly to wear. His phone chimed telling him that Drea was waiting outside for him.

Drea was waiting in her car, waving for him to hop in. Once he was buckled in he finally had a chance to take a look at Drea all dressed up. She was wearing a soft blue lace dress that reached her knees. It had cap sleeves and a rounded neckline. Her hair fell in soft waves and was longer, down to mid-back.

“Are you wearing extensions?” Jared finally breathed out.

��Yea, my mom likes it better when I have longer hair,” Drea replied, focusing on the road.

Jared couldn’t stop himself and reached out to play with an errant curly, “I really like it.”

Drea turned to him, surprised, “Don’t go falling for me now, Vasquez.”

Jared just laughed, “Not falling. Just appreciating that my usually childish partner can actually look like a beautiful grown woman.”

“You clean up pretty great too. We even match a little,” Drea glanced at him with a smile, “ Anyway, I just need you to mingle with me and protect me from my dad’s creepy business partners and hopefully deter my mum from trying to introduce me to any of their sons.”

“And your mom will stop because I’m around?” Jared asked.

“She assumes that I’m dating any man I talk to, no matter what I say otherwise. Bringing you to a function will get rumors going and the damage control will get her off my back. Oh and don’t take any bribes from her or her butlers,” Drea rambled.

“So I’m your date?” Jared said with a smirk.

“Technically, so don’t go flirting with anyone or my mother might have you shipped off somewhere. She might not like me “dating” but she will raise hell if anyone cheats on me,” Drea warned.

Jared couldn’t help but laugh, “This might actually be fun. How much PDA would freak out your hoity toity rich friends?”

“They barely shake hands, let alone hug. But don’t get any ideas,“ Drea managed to glare at Jared who just raised his hands in defeat.

They approached a large venue with a sprawling lawn and a circular valet drop off. Jared was distracted by the sheer size of the place and the extravagant cars that were being valeted off to a hidden parking lot. “Hey, Drea?”

Jared turned to his partner only to see her handing her keys off to a valet boy. It was then that he noticed her demure lace dress was actually backless, showing off her clear skin and an intricate moon phase tattoo down her spinal column. Just like her hair, he felt his fingers twitch, wanting to touch the tattoo. But she turned. “Are you nervous? You don’t have to be. I promise they are mostly nice, just a bit snooty. Just go with the flow, eat the food, and then I can take you home.”

“Your place or mine?” Jared said absentmindedly, the image of her bareback glued to his sight.

Drea just smacked his shoulder and then started walking into the venue. Jared shook his head and then followed her up the stairs and between the columns of marble. He cursed under his breath. Seeing her looking so different from her rather tomboy-esque persona at work was having an odd effect on him. He took a deep breath. She’s just a friend. A good friend. Don’t mess this up.

Jared stood next to Drea at the entrance of a ballroom. There were quite a few people making small talk, sitting at various tables, and drinking champagne. Jared took Drea’s hand and placed it on the crook of his arm. She seemed nervous but she latched onto his arm, turned to him and smiled, then pulled him along.

A few people waved at her, some greeted her as she walked by, but thankfully no one stopped them or asked her about her date. The tables seemed to be assigned and soon Drea stopped in front of a round table that already had a severe looking older asian woman and a softer looking older asian man seated.

“Hi Mom. Hi Dad.” Drea said in greeting. The two elders stood up, hugging their daughter and sneaking glances at Jared, “This is my partner, Lieutenant Jared Vasquez.”

“Nice to meet you.” Jared offered his hand for a shake but the two just nodded their heads.

“I am Eileen Tamaki and this is my husband, Akimitsu Tamaki.” Eileen said, looking at Jared up and down. Akimitsu who had been staring intently finally smiled then reached out a hand to shake Jared’s. Jared didn’t know what was going on but shook his hand and even bowed a little not wanting to be rude, despite the earlier rejection.

“I have seen you on the news Lieutenant. I knew you were familiar, it took me a moment to place you. You have solved many cases in this city of ours, it is my pleasure to meet you. It makes me feel relieved to have you working with my daughter in such a dangerous field,“ Akimitsu praised, his eyes glowing with kindness.

“It’s my pleasure, sir. Your daughter is a great detective. I can always rely on her.” Jared replied sincerely.

“Come and sit, before the others arrive,” Her father gestured to the table. The size and roundness of the table caused Jared and Drea to sit across from her parents so it would be easier to talk. Eileen still had a stoniness to her visage while Akimitsu was already making small talk.

“Drea didn’t you have anything else to wear?” Eileen finally chimed in hushed tones.

“Eileen, leave her alone. She’s a grown woman, she can wear what she wants.” Akimitsu interrupted. “She looks lovely and I’m sure Jared agrees with me.”

“She looks beautiful,” Jared agreed.

Drea blushed at their defense, not noticing the very different looks her parents were sending Jared’s way. Before anything more could be said, two women who looked around Drea’s age came up to the table greeting everyone. The taller redhead was named Katrina, and her blonde friend was named Melody. Drea greeted them warmly as they took seats next to her. Before Jared could be introduced, two younger men joined the table as well. Katrina’s husband, Caleb, and Melody’s fiance, Ivan.

“The youth have arrived my dear, it is time we move to our own table now that we have seen Drea,” Akimitsu said as he stood up, offering his hand to his wife.

“I knew you weren’t assigned to sit with me, Uncle Rico would have been jealous,” Drea said as she waved to her parents. Eileen and Akimitsu said their farewells, nodding to Jared, before making their way across the ballroom.

“So Drea, introduce us,” Katrina giggled, gesturing towards Jared. Drea smiled awkwardly as the rest of the table made noises of agreement.

Jared decided to grant her some mercy and introduced himself, “I’m Jared Vasquez, Drea’s partner. It’s nice to meet you all.”

“Drea! Where have you been hiding him?” Melody asked excitedly, “If I didn’t have Ivan around I would have had to steal Jared away.”

Jared just threw an arm around Drea’s shoulders, “I’m definitely not that easy to steal away.”

Ivan chuckled, “I don’t know, Jared, she managed to pull me away from Major League baseball, she’s incredibly convincing. Still not sure if it was worth it though.”

“Hey!” Melody retorted, flicking water at her fiance, “That’s why you’re gonna marry me!”

“I know, what am I thinking,” Ivan faked a look of regret before smiling, “Don’t go flirting with Drea’s man, Mel, it isn’t me you’ll have to worry about.”

“Yeah Mel, you know how protective Drea is. She would literally fight you if you touch her man, remember, Isaac?” Katrina said.

“Jared’s not my man, he's just my partner. I’m never going to live that down, am I?” Drea said, letting out a short laugh.

“Dumping a glass of wine on Mel’s white Versace gown because she flirted with your man at her birthday party was a bit too dramatic to be forgettable,” Caleb finally joined the conversation, “We all know that Mel’s a flirt, Drea, but you were so far up that guys ass.”

“Don’t remind me. Sorry, about that again Mel. Really.” Drea said looking embarrassed.

“It’s old news Drea, no worries. You ended up getting the short end of the stick on that one,” Mel said looking sympathetic.

“Hey, hey, no walking down ‘bad memory lane.’ Drea is safe and sound with a hottie on her arm, and looking sexy as ever. Don’t think I didn’t notice the open back on that dress,” Katrina interrupted, expertly changing the subject.

Jared found himself lost in thought as they started talking about outfits and some fashion show. He was curious about Isaac. Who was he and why was he such a sore spot? He was so lost in thought he didn’t realize that he was absentmindedly playing with Drea’s hair.

Melody leaned in to whisper into Drea’s ear,”He’s cute Drea, and he seems to really like you.”

“It’s not like that, he’s just my partner at work, I brought him so Mom wouldn’t try to introduce me to anyone tonight,” Drea whispered back.

“I don’t know, Drea, he seems very affectionate. Act or not, he’s comfortable around you, and you are with him. Maybe it’s a game right now but keep an open mind. I think he would be good for you,” Melody said with a smile.

Two more men joined the table. A slightly older man who greeted Drea warmly. Apparently her cousin Julian, the one putting on the fundraiser. The last was a tall handsome Korean man named Kevin who seemed to immediately dislike Jared and his proximity to Drea. Jared made a point to lean closer to Drea, feeling oddly protective seeing the way the man eyed her hungrily.

“Julian, Kevin, this is my partner, Jared Vasquez, he’s helping me deter mom from throwing me to the wolves,” Drea said.

“He’s definitely an upgrade from the last man you introduced us to, Drea,” Julian joked before reaching out to shake Jared’s hand, “Nice to meet you, man. Be careful with the elder Mikami. She’s been trying to get Drea married off for years. Every event I throw inadvertently gets turned into a speed dating event for Drea. I’m happy she found a friend willing to put up with it to spare her some embarrassment.”

“My pleasure, Drea’s a great partner,” Jared said, throwing a fond smile her way.

“Nice to meet you,” Kevin said stiffly as he shook Jared’s hand. He then turned to Drea, “If you needed a date you could have asked me Drea.”

“Oh stop it Kevin, you’re one of the ones that Mrs. Mikami would force Drea to marry. You know Drea, she wants a ‘normal guy’,” Katrina said bluntly.

“Guys, just stop. I’m not getting married anytime soon to anyone,” Drea said with a hint of frustration, “Can we talk about Mel and Ivan finally getting engaged after 7 years.”

Julian and Kevin took the last two seats at the table across from Jared and Drea. The group started talking jovially about Melody and Ivan’s upcoming nuptials. The dinner was served and it was one of the most delicious meals that he had had in a while. It was nice seeing Drea loosen up and talk with friends he had known since she was a child.

Eventually, Julian left the table to host the event. It was pretty standard, the tickets and donations from all these rich people would go to some charity for underprivileged kids in the city. It devolved from there into a party with a band playing instrumental music. Things were going incredibly smooth until Jared decided to go to the restroom.

The two couples had gone off to the dancefloor, Julian was off mingling, and that left Kevin and Drea. Kevin immediately took a seat next to Drea, taking her hand and leaning in close so she could hear him speak.

“Drea, you look so beautiful tonight. When will you give me a chance?” Kevin asked, gripping her hand tightly.

“Kevin, stop joking around,” Drea shrugged him off, removing her hand from his grasp to reach for her wine glass.

Kevin grabbed her hand again and leaned in so that his lips were brushing her ear with each word, “Drea, I’m not joking. You told me to wait. After everything with Isaac you needed time to heal. So I gave you that time. It’s been five years, Drea. I’m the CEO of my family’s company. Your father and I are business partners. Your mother has given her blessing. I expected to come here and finally confess again now that you’ve let off some steam with this rebellion. But it’s time to leave that job and your partner behind and come back and run our families’ businesses together.”

“Kevin, let me go. I know what I said before. I did my healing and I won’t settle for anything less than I want and deserve. And I don’t want you. I’m sorry.” Drea whispered back urgently, pushing Kevin back into his seat.

“You’re such a stupid bitch you know that. After everything we’ve been through. After you chose that psycho over me. And who did you go running to when he turned on you? You think you’re too good for me Drea? You’re nothing but a used up druggies bitch who doesn’t know when to shut up and just take her best option. Or do you only let psycho meth heads fuck you? Does your new partner know what kind of whore you are?” Kevin seethed, getting in her face. His voice grew louder with each sentence. The music and chatter was still louder than him, but those nearby had started to notice that something was wrong.

Drea was close to tears, standing from her seat she addressed him, “How could you say that?”

“How could you reject me? I’m more than you deserve but I would still love you Drea. Even knowing your history. Not many men would. Especially men of my caliber. You think your little lieutenant will still like you when he finds out what they did to you? You aren’t worth anything Drea. But I’m worth so much that I can make up for it. Just stop being such a pig headed bitch and make a good choice for once!” Kevin urged her. Grabbing her by her shoulders and shaking her.

Suddenly, Drea was pulled from his grasp and Jared was in front of her, throwing a punch so hard that Kevin landed hard on the floor, knocked out. Eyes started turning towards them, someone gasped, someone screamed. Then people were rushing towards them. Jared turned to her to say something, but she couldn’t hear anything. Blood was rushing in her ears, tears were streaming down her face and all she could do was run. So she did.

She ran between the tables, pushed her way through the crowd and escaped through side doors that lead to a courtyard. The spring night air was cold on her skin, her breaths coming in sharp inhales that nearly made her cough. Drea couldn’t see the beautiful garden or the perfectly carved pillars through her tears. The heaving sobs that wracked her body came hard and fast. She reached out for something, anything to cling to while she spiralled into the feeling. Like she was dying. So overwhelmingly alive with pain and cold air and heartache, but at the same time she was dying from it.

Drea’s hand found the cold rock of a pillar and she gripped fruitlessly at the smooth surface. Her knees gave way and she fell. Curling up against the pillar, her hands gripping the cloth at her chest, trying to find her own heart because she didn’t think it could still be there.

Drea was so overwhelmed that she hadn’t noticed that Jared wasn’t far behind her. When he reached for her hands to stop her from tearing her dress she fought back.

“Drea! Drea! It’s me! It’s Jared! I’m not going to hurt you,” Jared pleaded as she scratched and flailed. He managed to grab both her wrists and then held them both down with one hand while the other gently but firmly cupped her cheek, “Drea, look at me. Look at me. You’re ok. You’re safe. It’s just me. It’s Jared.”

Drea met his eyes and familiarity slowly sank in. When she finally spoke her voice was soft and broken from crying, “Jay?”

Jared just opened his arms and Drea threw herself into them, weeping. His mind was moving a mile a minute. He was angry at Kevin for what he said, even though he didn’t understand half of it. He was angry at himself for leaving Drea alone when he was supposed to protect her. But most of all he was worried. Drea never shortened his name. She said she felt like she was stepping into Michaela territory if she did. Instead she made up all kinds of silly names for him instead.

Her wracking sobs soon faded and her breathing slowed. Jared now had his back to the pillar, his arms around Drea, with her in his lap. She had her head curled into the crook of his neck. Jared didn’t say anything as he held her in his arms, gently running his hand up and down the outside of her bicep. He tried not to think of how good she smelled, and how she was trembling just the slightest bit.

The tell tale click of high heels on stone broke the intimate moment. Drea stiffened in his arms but he only held her tighter and whispered reassuring words.

“Drea? Jared?” Katrina called softly before she rounded the pillar. Once she spotted them she gasped at the sight of her friend and knelt down, “Oh Dre. I’m so sorry. If we had known he would push you again we would have never left you alone. He’s gone now. Your dad had a fit and Julian kicked him out. I can’t believe he would say those things.”

Drea didn’t respond, just turned closer into Jared’s neck. She was telling him she wanted to go. He didn’t know how he knew but he knew. “Katrina, is there any way you can get the valet to bring Drea’s car to the back outside the courtyard gate? I think it’s best that I take Drea home.”

“Jared, it really won’t look good for her to just leave. I mean it will be like she let Kevin win,” Katrina responded without thinking.

Drea flinched, and that made Jared angry, “Look Katrina I know we just met, but right now I think the only one who is putting Drea first is me. So please get Drea’s car brought over. We are leaving and I don’t give a damn what any of you people think because Drea did absolutely nothing wrong.”

Properly chastised Katrina whispered an apology before heading back into the building. Jared sighed pulling Drea closer to his chest to bring him some comfort of his own. He leaned his head against Drea’s, kissing her forehead instinctually, “Drea, I’m gonna take you home ok. I know I’m making decisions for you and you hate that but I’m worried about you. So I’m going to take you home where I know you will be safe, away from all this.”

Drea didn’t respond for a moment then he felt her nod her head and grip him tighter. Her voice came soft and muffled, “Take me home, Jay.”

Jared did just that. He took her home to his house. Something told him she didn’t want to go back to her apartment. She didn’t question the route they took or when they arrived in front of his place and he led her inside. Drea was looking less unstable but that didn’t stop Jared from babying her. He sat her in the living room and brought her a glass of cold water. She sipped at it. He carefully took her shoes off and then gingerly started combing her hair. Drea stayed stuck in her thoughts until she realized he was meticulously taking out her clip in extensions and placing them on the coffee table.

Drea was surprised at the thoughtful and detailed gesture and felt herself start crying again. But the tears were silent and accompanied by a sad smile.

“There we go. Well, Cinderella, it is a lot later than midnight and time for bed. I’ll go find you something to sleep in and wash up myself. Then you can have my bedroom and the bathroom,” Jared stood up to go up stairs but Drea grasped his hand. When he turned she stood up and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Thank you, Jared. Thank you for everything.”

“Drea, you’re my friend. You needed me and I was there. I don’t know what all that was but don’t feel like you have to explain anything to me. I’m just happy you’re feeling better. That Kevin guy is a dick. Forget him and anything he said,” Jared replied. He held her close, rubbing his hand up and down on her back. She finally relinquished her grasp on him and looked up at him.

Her eyes were rimmed red and puffy. But she looked up at him with a soft smile, “You really are a knight in a shining necktie.”

Jared laughed and just made his way upstairs. In the meantime, Drea checked her phone. There were a few missed calls and texts that she ignored. She decided not to tell Jared the details behind the confrontation that night. She wasn’t ready to admit it to him. When Jared came down, he had his arms full. An extra blanket and pillow for himself and a t-shirt and boxers for her. “This is all I have but it should be comfortable enough for tonight. Don’t bother arguing with me about my bed. You’re my guest, and after tonight you need the comfort of a nice bed.”

He handed her the clothing then walked over to the couch, setting up his sleeping area. He was wearing thin grey sweats and a black wife beater. If Drea were in a better mood she would have made a joke about seeing him so undressed. Jared was about to settle in and shut off the light when he realized that Drea was still in the room, staring at him, “What?”

“Nothing,” Drea answered quickly, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks.

“No sharing beds. At least not yet,” Jared quipped, winking at her.

“Shut up!” Drea gasped and ran up the stairs.

Jared just chuckled to himself as he shut off the light and got comfortable. The events of the day passed through his mind. He tried not to think about how good Drea looked in her dress, or how good she probably looked in his shirt and boxers. He tried not to think about how good she smelled, or the jealousy and rage he felt when he saw Kevin touching her and then yelling at her. Holding her for who knows how long in that courtyard, in any other instance, would have made him uncomfortable. But it quelled his rage, and woke something else in him. What it awoke were feelings that were too deep to be merely platonic. But he wouldn’t think about that.

Upstairs Drea had decided to take a shower. She was surprised to find a basic but thorough skincare regimen, decent shampoo and conditioner, and neutral smelling shower gels in his bathroom. Remnants he probably picked up from his last two serious relationships. She silently thanked god that she wasn’t forced to use a 3-in-1 after a day like today.

Soon she was tucked up in bed, her hair wrapped in a towel and clad in the clothes Jared gave her. The bed smelled of him and so did the clothes. A smell she now associated with his strong arms around her as she broke down. Jared went above and beyond with helping her tonight and she felt her heart ache a little. Kevin’s words were still ringing in her ears. What would Jared think once she told him the truth of what had happened to her?

Her phone chimed from the bedside table. Jared had texted her.

*You’re amazing, Drea. Ignore what Kevin said. I will always think you’re amazing and funny and stubborn as hell. Nothing anyone could say would make me feel any different.*

Drea hugged her phone to her chest and let a few tears slip out before her phone chimed again.

*No more crying or you’ll look like a steamed bun in the morning.*

She couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. Jared was here and he liked how she was right now. The past was the past. Finally she snuggled into Jared’s bed and went to sleep.

#manifest netflix #manifest #manifest nbc #jared vasquez #drea mikami #ellen tamaki #jr ramirez #recovery

18 notes · View notes

marvelmando · 5 years ago

Text

the first breath [p.parker x reader]

notes: hi! i... actually love this. i’m a sucker for soulmate! au’s, so naturally this was somewhat easy to write. this is just a small break from my tempest series, ill continue posting tomorrow (bc it’s my birthday!). tomorrow as in the eleventh, just in case it’s already daytime wherever you’re reading this!

contains: soulmate! au, some swearing

pairing: peter parker + reader

word count: 3.6k

“Hey!”

Peter’s heart thumped hard in his chest. Looking around for the person, he saw a girl greeting a friend, and Peter sighed, unconsciously massaging the band covering his left wrist.

No matter how many times Peter had heard the word, it never failed to send a spike of panic in him. It was just a word, an unfairly common greeting phrase in America, but to Peter, it meant infinitely more.

“Stupid Soulmark,” Peter grumbled to himself as he walked the halls of Midtown High.

For as long as humans could tell, each individual was born with a word or phrase inked into the skin of their nondominant forearm. The Marks could say anything, but they belonged to the first words spoken to you by your soulmate.

Soulmarks were considered sacred by most of the world, and like most sacred things, they were hidden from public view. Soulbands were a staple in almost every culture, meant to only be taken off in front of your soulmate. Although modern times saw the general acceptance of most controversial topics that were shunned in the past, Soulbands seemed to never grow out of popularity. It was also a sense of security, to make sure that they couldn’t be said by the wrong person.

Some had easily-identifiable Marks. Where there was little room for doubt that the words spoken belonged to your soulmate. Others, like Peter, had simple, one-word Marks.

For as long as he could remember, Peter lived in a near-constant state of anxiety over the word. What would normally be an off-hand remark or a polite greeting made Peter’s heart skip and his knees grow weak.

Whenever greeted with the word, Peter would tense, and respond with a stiff, “Um, hi?” and watch as the person gave him a weird or blank look in return. There had been several instances - none of which he was particularly proud of - where Peter ran away rather than face the sting of false hope.

Most religions viewed Soulmarks as divine intervention, a sign that humans were blessed by the gods. A lot of the time, Peter wanted to curse whatever gods forced them into the arranged couplings.

Failing at keeping the scowl at bay, Peter stopped at his locker, twisting the lock and opening it to return his books.

“Hey, Peter,” a voice said from behind, and he instantly recognized it as Ned Leeds, his best (and only, really) friend. Peter turned only his head, unsurprised to find Betty Brant, Ned’s soulmate, at his side.

Like most matched individuals, Ned seemed to glow with happiness in the presence of their soulmate. Sometimes the dopey smile on Ned’s face was too much for Peter. Whether it was from envy or discomfort, feeling the never-ending, unadulterated joy exuding from him made Peter’s stomach turn and twist uncomfortably.

“Hey, Ned. Betty,” Peter nodded as a greeting, stacking his textbooks in his locker.

“Are you planning on going to the... internship, today?” Ned whispered, his inability for subtly flaring to life. Though Betty had been Ned’s match long enough to know Peter’s secret, it was a good thing the halls had pretty much been deserted at that point, as the school day had been over for more than ten minutes.

“Yeah,” Peter shut his locker, heaving his significantly lighter backpack over his shoulder. “Just neighborhood stuff, though.”

Ned nodded enthusiastically. Despite how preoccupied he was with Betty, Ned had always been Peter’s go-to Spider-Man guy. Ned called himself “The Guy in The Chair”, but Peter refused to say it out loud unless absolutely necessary.

They parted ways at the train station, where Peter went to find a secluded alley to change into his suit.

You had no idea what possessed your parents to up and move the family to New York.

You’d lived your entire life in a small, cozy town in the middle of nowhere. You’d enjoyed that life. Then suddenly, your father called you down one day earlier that summer to announce that in a few months, you’d be packing and moving to the heart of Queens.

Despite having been in the bustling city for weeks now, you still hadn’t gotten used to walking through the crowded streets. People were rude here; though, with the craziness of the city, you weren’t really sure you could blame them. Still, it filled you with frustration when you tried to weave through the streets, only to be knocked roughly in the shoulder and subsequently cursed out for no damn reason.

On the bright side - the only bright side, if you were being honest - was the exponential increase in the possibility that you would finally meet your soulmate.

Your hometown was lovely and quaint, but the general teenage population left a lot to be desired. It didn’t help that there were only fifty other people in your graduating class, or that you’d met and exchanged first words with every single of them already.

That being said, of all the people you’d met at Midtown so far, none of them had said the words branded on your right wrist. But to be fair, there weren’t many opportunities where someone had to yell, “I swear I wasn’t aiming at you!”

You didn’t have to worry about the possibility of danger in your old town, but in New York, you were vaguely concerned that the words would be uttered during a mugging.

Unfortunately, you were quite right to be concerned.

“All right, Karen, what do we got?”

Peter watched as the screen flashed, images of satellite footage and recordings of police radio calls popping up and disappearing again as Karen flipped through potential threats.

“The city is quiet today,” Karen’s robotic voice remarked. Distantly, Peter wondered how the voice was created, and if it was recorded, who the person was behind the voice. It was distinctly human, after all, without the awkward pauses and emphases that Siri usually had. “There have been no reports of any robberies or shootings.”

Peter sighed, bored and disappointed. He’d long gotten over the guilt of wanting some danger in the city.

Suddenly, before Karen could notify him, he heard a voice cry, “Stop that guy!”

Immediately swinging into action, Peter noticed a man in his mid-twenties sprinting down the sidewalk, shoving himself through the crowd. The woman who’d yelled for help was young, in her thirties, but still wasn’t fast enough to keep up.

Peter swung overhead, gaining distance and landing directly in the guy’s path. The thief skidded to a halt, his eyes widening in obvious fear at the sight of Spider-Man. He clutched a purse to his chest.

“It’s not nice to steal!” Peter yelled, moving to shoot a web at the purse. But the thief was quick, and he ducked under his web, making a run for it.

Peter was faster though and lunged to bodyslam him, sending him into the wall of a nearby building. The impact knocked the purse from his grasp, and it spilled to the ground as the man struggled to get back up. Peter webbed him to the wall and notified Karen to call the police.

Satisfied with his handiwork, Peter was about to leap onto the roof when an aggravated noise caught his attention instead.

He turned to see you growling, your splayed hand webbed to a streetlamp. The web the thief dodged must’ve hit you instead. Catching sight of him noticing you, you yelled out, “Hey!”

For once in his life, the word didn’t seem to register. He was, for lack of a better word, enchanted by you. Even with furious indignation twisting your face, he couldn’t stop staring at the depth of your eyes and the slope of your nose. Blinking, he said without thinking, “I swear I wasn’t aiming for you!”

It was a stupid response, admittedly. Of course, he wasn’t aiming for you. You’d probably noticed the thief and could probably make the connection.

However, Peter didn’t have time to think about the pointlessness of the protest, because he was too busy registering what you’d said. The word. His word.

Cheeks flaming under his mask, Peter braced himself for the rejection. But it never came.

Your eyes went impossibly wide, and you immediately stopped yanking against the web. Peter watched as you gaped at him, and thanks to the mechanics of the suit, he noticed that your heart rate increased significantly.

Almost in a trance, Peter stepped toward you. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

Your mouth closed, and you visibly swallowed. “Depends,” your voice was tight, anxious. “How often do you accidentally shoot your webs at innocent bystanders?”

You flushed as you registered the double meaning behind the words. Peter watched in amusement as your cheeks flushed and you stammered to correct yourself.

“I-I just mean that -”

“It’s okay, I -”

Peter started to placate you, feeling the blood rushing through his veins like soda, popping and fizzing under his skin. But he was cut off by the sound of Karen’s voice, though distant, but urgent enough to draw his attention away from you.

“Peter, there’s a hostage situation that was just called in happening thirteen blocks away,” the AI announced, causing Peter to falter in his steps.

“I-I gotta go,” he told you, hurrying to free your trapped hand from the lamppost, and backing away reluctantly. “I’ll find you, I promise!”

He could see the disappointment on your face as you watched him scuttle off, and every cell in his body protested the distance he forced between him and his soulmate, but he knew he had to go.

“If you were anyone else, that’d be super creepy!” You yelled as Peter swung away. He smiled widely under his mask.

Your skin was still tingling and your cheeks were sore from smiling so much when you finally reached your apartment.

All you had to do was look at your mother for her to tell that you had met your soulmate. After spending an hour at the kitchen table being interrogated by your parents, you were finally released to your room to process.

You closed the door gently behind you and slid your back against the wood until your bottom rested on the ground. You tilted your head back, barely feeling the thunk as it collided with the door. Every time you tried to relax your face into a neutral expression, you remembered the way Spider-Man’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of you, and how your heart skipped several beats as he said the words you knew so well, and your lips crawled back into a giddy smile once more.

Even in your hometown in the middle of nowhere, you had known about Spider-Man. The superhero wasn’t nearly as popular as he seemed to be in the city he protected, but you still remembered the passing of phones and newspapers whenever Spider-Man saved another day or stopped another robbery. Even your high school had a day dedicated to him after a particularly miraculous defeat of the notorious Green Goblin, who’d terrorized the borough for weeks before he was stopped.

Spider-Man was a national - if not global - phenomenon. And he just so happened to be your soulmate.

You’d just reached for your phone to call your best friend from home when a knock on your window startled you.

You jumped, scrambling to your feet. Your apartment was on the eighth story, there was no way a burglar would have climbed all this way to rob you. A burglar wouldn’t knock either, you scoffed internally.

Tiptoeing to the window, you peered through the glass. Even under the dark cover of the late hour, you could distinctly make out the identity of the figure. You hurried to unlatch and open the pane, stepping back nervously when the figure climbed through, rather clumsily for how graceful he normally was.

Spider-Man was polite enough to close the window behind him, cutting off the brisk gust of wind that caused goosebumps to appear on your arms. You crossed them, rubbing them to warm yourself up.

When he straightened and faced you once more, you couldn’t help but stare back. You bit your lip anxiously, suddenly very aware of how messy your room was. You had, after all, just moved in, and most of your stuff was either still in boxes or strewn haphazardly about the room.

“I’m sorry for the mess,” you blurted, unable to help yourself. “We just moved here a couple weeks ago, and... well, y’know.” You gestured unhelpfully around the room.

Every cell in your body seemed as though they were vibrating. The muscles in your chest twitched and your bones ached to close the distance between the two of you. It was as though you and your soulmate were opposite ends of a magnet, and the field around you was pulling your bodies together.

“It-It’s okay,” Spider-Man stuttered, and you realized that he’d turned off his voice modulator. You hadn’t even realized earlier that he was using one, but you now recognized the difference. His voice was higher than before, not as robotic and crackly. “I don’t mind.”

You nodded awkwardly. Spider-Man shifted his balance between his feet, as if he too was fighting the urge to get closer.

“Uh, how did you find me, anyway?” You couldn’t help but ask.

“Well, there’s this intelligence system installed in my suit, and I had her look up your address,” the eyes of his suit narrowed sharply as if he was wincing, probably at how creepy it sounded. “I hope that’s not too creepy, because it sounds pretty creepy. I didn’t - I mean, I wasn’t stalking you or anything.”

You smiled. Spider-Man rambled adorably, and though the thought of him looking up your address should have been terrifying, you found that you didn’t mind at all. You weren’t sure if it was because he was your soulmate, or if it was because he was a superhero. Either way, you placated him. “It’s alright, I don’t mind.”

Despite your insistence that it was fine, Spider-Man still held himself back, hesitant to move forward with the conversation. To cut through the awkward tension, you said the first thing that came to mind.

“I like your suit,” you said, cringing immediately after. While true, that wasn’t exactly what you meant to say.

With the mask, you couldn’t decipher Spider-Man’s reaction. Though, after a brief moment, he chuckled.

“Thanks,” he giggled. You felt yourself relax. “I like your shirt.”

You looked down. It was an old band shirt that you bought at a thrift store a few years ago and was well-worn, the ink faded and several holes stretching the neck out. “Uh, thanks.” You smiled nonetheless because it seemed that Spider-Man was just as nervous as you were, which inexplicably made you feel much better.

“My name’s Y/N, by the way,” you smiled, holding out your hand. “But if you know my address, you probably know my name, too.”

You thought you could see Spider-Man smiling under the mask. It shifted over his face as he accepted the handshake, wrapping his hand around yours. Even through the fabric of his suit, his skin burned like a furnace. From anyone else, it may have been stifling. But from him, the warmth was cozy, a calming heat rushing through your hand and up your arm, wrapping around your heart like a security blanket.

“I do,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. It took you a second to connect what he meant.

The seconds passed and your hands were no longer shaking, but neither of you dropped the hold. You found yourself drifting closer toward Spider-Man, and it took all of your energy not to fall into his chest and wrap your arms around his waist.

“I’m guessing that your real name’s not Spider-Man,” you cocked your head. “And I feel like it’s only fair that I know my soulmate’s name, too.”

Your breath hitched. You heard him inhale sharply, too. It was the first time you’d directly acknowledged to each other what you were, and it suddenly was too real for you.

You jerked your hand back, embarrassed. Your hand was startlingly cold now, suddenly bereft of Spider-Man’s touch. You flexed it subconsciously, yearning to reach out and grab his hand again.

“I - I...” you tried to explain yourself, but the wide, questioning eyes of his suit made you falter. You averted your eyes as you took an anxious step back, fighting against an overwhelming urge to flee.

“No, wait -” Spider-Man said, and reached up and yanked his mask off in one swift motion.

Your eyes immediately found his, as if they were pulled instinctively to each other. His soft almond-shaped eyes were filled with worry and caution, the warm brown irises gleaming in the darkness of your room. The lights of the ever-glowing city were the only light filtering in your room, and the shadows cut angles against Spider-Man’s cheekbones, carving his jowls and accentuating his slim mouth. Even in the darkness, you could make out the light smattering of freckles across the slightly crooked bridge of his nose, and the endearing flick of his left eyebrow, emphasized by their worried arch.

The chestnut curls piled on top of his head were tousled from the mask and flipped haphazardly over his forehead. His ears stuck out from his head, but instead of looking awkward, they fit his face nicely, softening the sharp edges of his high cheekbones. They were what made his already stunning face heartbreakingly adorable, and you fought the need to run your fingers over the shell of them.

Though the shadowy bags under his eyes conveyed a sense of exhaustion too severe for his apparent age, Spider-Man was younger than you thought. If you were to hazard a guess, Spider-Man was about your age, give or take a couple years.

“My name’s Peter,” he breathed, looking slightly panicked as you studied him. “Peter Parker.”

“Peter Parker,” you whispered, testing out the name on your tongue. The words were gentle but the pounding in your chest was overwhelming. The tension that grew since being in his presence while pulling yourself away made you feel as if you were drowning, gasping for breath. There was a bursting sensation in your stomach, then a warm, satisfying weight that spoke of absolute certainty that Peter Parker, aka Spider-Man, was your soulmate.

You felt your body inch toward his, and the relief flooding his face was palpable. You stepped closer to him, relishing in the way your body hummed in delight at the closeness.

Peter looked down at you, his gaze sweet and caring as he searched your face. There was a moment of content examination spent in comfortable silence as you both memorized every little detail of each other’s faces.

It should have been awkward, looking and saying nothing, but the longer you spent staring into each other’s eyes, the farther you seemed to fall. It was completely ridiculous and entirely premature, but you were certain that Peter was someone you could fall madly in love with.

“Hi,” you whispered, grinning shyly.

“Hi,” Peter responded just as softly, a mirroring smile stretching his lips.

Suddenly realizing something, you moved back just enough to bring your hand up. Peter backed away slightly, though it seemed to pain him.

You grabbed at the band covering your forearm, watching Peter’s expression as you unwound it. His eyes went wide, shifting from your arm to your eyes, then back to your arm as the band fell away and exposed your Mark.

Eyes meeting yours for permission, he tenderly took your proffered arm. His eyes roved over the Mark, before he brought his own hand to his mouth, grabbing the middle finger of his glove and yanking it off.

With his bared hand, he reverently ghosted his fingers over the inked letters. The look on his face was pure awe. “I really wasn’t aiming for you.”

He winced as though the words weren’t meant to escape. You chuckled. “I know.”

The light caressing of his fingertips against the sacred Mark shot spikes of pleasure through your body. It was a heady feeling, seeing your life partner touching the place meant for only the two of you.

When he looked back up at you, his face was split in an achingly loving smile. He pulled away, and yanked on the sleeve, revealing his own band.

It was simpler than yours, designed to fit slimly to the skin under his suit. It only took a simple click of his finger for it to release. On the dip of the inside of his wrist was the word, “hey!” written in your handwriting. With gentle movements, you traced the lines with your fingers. Peter visibly shuddered, watching you soak in the Mark.

Though you could’ve stared at it forever, you finally tore your eyes away. You met Peter’s gaze, finding the weight of it easier to handle than you thought.

With your thumb pressed to the Mark, and his hand wrapped around yours, the universe nudged you together. You and Peter fell into each other, lips meeting and melding as your bodies and souls collided like two exploding stars; fate and gravity and destiny crashing into each other and settling happily between you and your soulmate.

Your Mark burned and your lips ached with the pressure of your shared kisses. Reality forced your bodies apart, foreheads resting against one another as you caught your breath, but all at once, your soul felt grounded - you hadn’t even realized how empty it was until it found Peter’s.

In the safety of his arms, you breached the surface and took your first full breath.

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hybristoo · 5 years ago

Text

Blood Will Tell

Request: “Can I request something for Joker x Reader where reader has a blood kink? Could be either Ledger or Phoenix version, I'm not picky.”

Warnings: Sexual content, knife play, sadomasochism

Words: 2′270

Thank you to @seeyouonadarkknight for editing it!

Love, Sex and War. Such is the title of John Costello’s book on history - a factual look on the fluctuations in sexual mores and its connections to war. Of course, it’s a 384-page piece on the second world war and its primarily American soldiers - a completely different view of the title than you, who had simply stared at the cover for months, had built up in your mind.

Love, Sex and War - where sex and war were hastily highlighted in bright orange. A comment written on the side of the page; The mundane connection to a kibitzer (me) is _____. To attempt to articulate the bridge between the pillars was to speak nothing but poppycock to the unenthusiastic. Yet for years you had tried to articulate - to justify the connection your body had created. The bawdy stir which it aroused.

But the bluntest, and thus simplest, way you had come to put it when you were sure your partners were the perfect blend of drunk and tired enough to receive shocking information was: To me, there’s nothing more erotic than your blood all over my sheets.

The problem with such a blunt assertion was that it scared most people. And those who weren’t frightened didn’t want anything to do with it anyways. And thus it was back to the drawing board, trying to find the wording that could land you the satisfaction you craved.

With Joker, however, there was no explaining, and maybe that was one of the reasons you stayed despite axiom challenges. Really, you’d go as far as to say that explanations and talk were discouraged. He wanted to figure people out himself. That was the extent of his fun with people.

You, on the other hand, unlike the media, mental health experts and police, had no particular interest in the man behind the makeup. You never asked about his real name, his past or his motivations.

Your stance on him, which was previously petulance, became interest only when he came in one day without the green suit jacket, bloodied shimmy on full display and a leaking wound in his arm. Upon reflection, it would have been the courteous thing to do to give him the medical attention he was most likely seeking, but instead, you started the most illicit affair of your life.

As it turns out, in between bank robberies, kidnapping and murder, the Joker found time to dip between your legs. And at what price?

You could tell the first time he whipped out his dagger mid-session, he expected you to be afraid. And had he been a robber in an alleyway, you would have been, but he was a robber in your sheets and so it just sent a shiver up your spine. That kept him around longer.

You sensed this would be the last when his eyes were trained solely on you. Lovely as it were, you knew him to have eyes which were constantly swerving. Constantly trying to answer whatever questions appeared in his mind. Constantly finding things that would give him the upper hand.

They didn’t this time. There were no questions left.

You were going to offer him tea. Extend the night. Maybe ask all those questions which you frankly deserved to know. However, when he pressed against you so hard you lost your balance, you knew even the last wouldn’t be anywhere close to romantic.

You reciprocated his kiss with hesitance. There was something different about the way his serpent tongue dove into your mouth. A lack of curiosity. An abundance of hunger. You took his hands and put them on your waist, unbuttoning his vest. The tact to your collective moments had been corrected with time, like a choreographed dance. You moved to his neck, leaving gentle kisses.

“I saw you on the news today,” you commented as you travelled down his neck.

“And how’d I look?” He tore you away from him, allowing you a look at his tilted face. “Hm? Handsome? Dashing?” His yellow smile appeared as he flicked his hair out of his face.

You pecked his cheek. “Sexy.” Your hands trailed his bodice, gripping his hands and tugging him into the bedroom. Once inside, you wrapped your arms around his neck, engulfing him in another deep kiss, which he responded to in kind. As he lifted you up, you locked your legs around his waist. Your eyes had a teasing twinkle to them. He left a tiny lovebite at the edge of your jawline before dropping you into bed.

You stared up at him, breathlessly panting. He stared right back, his bottomless eyes exuding menace.

He moved to remove your shirt and then subsequently your pants. Your fingers twitched into a motion to do the same when the Joker’s words stopped you. “For tonight, I have a special little treat,” he hummed as he yanked off your pants, throwing them aside. He leaned in, letting you take a whiff of the aroma he emanated. A distinct mix of almonds, smoke and sulphur, like plastic explosives. “A game if you will.” Finally, the last of your clothing slipped off, leaving you only in your undergarments. “Inspired by a... friend of mine.”

You held your breath as his hand slipped into his pocket - never knowing what he’d reveal. He toyed with your expression, pretending to root around for the object and pricking himself on it, a quirk to his lips. However, when he did remove his hand from his pocket, there was a quarter between his gloved fingers, gleaming in the dim light.

“Heads, I get to control the knife.” He stabbed a blade into the mattress beside your head. “Tails, it’ll be your turn, doll.” He tucked the quarter into your bra before starting to strip himself. It struck you as you wordlessly watched him that you’d never seen him fully in the nude.

It was hard to deduce if he was being serious at all; you had come to know him as a man who prized control in all things; even if he tried to disguise it with nonchalance. For him to leave this to chance - something entirely uncontrollable, something had to be amiss. You hesitantly reached into your bra, taking out the quarter. You hoisted yourself into a sitting position before flipping the coin and letting it land.

Heads.

In a strange twist of fate and some infirmity on your part, you were relieved at this, swallowing thickly as you laid back down. Joker’s head twitched to the side, a grin spreading across his face. “Mine it is.”

He plucked the blade from the mattress, moving it to your torso. Starting at the xiphoid process and travelling down to the groin, he applied increasing pressure. Although not a motion unfamiliar to you at this point, you held your breath, wondering if maybe this time he’d split you open. Then, he tucked his knife underneath your panties, cutting its seams, allowing it to be slipped off easily.

He watched your eyes as he moved the knife to your thigh and applied pressure. An icy pain shot up your leg but you made no sound - biting your lip and watching as droplets of red started escaping you. The cut was small and shallow, but big enough for the wound to ooze slightly.

Seeing the liquid, an electrifying pulse shot throughout your body and your cunt clamped, your head rolling back onto the sheets. You let out a shaky sigh - a mix of pleasure and pain exuding from your lips. You felt a tongue drag across your wound, creating a moan in your throat. The sandpaper-Esque texture of his tongue tickled you, making your toes curl.

Finally, he leaned back up, his now-naked thumb barely grazing your clit. “Again.” He tossed the coin your way. You eagerly tossed the coin once more, it landing on your chest.

Heads.

You looked up at him. He jerked his shoulders as if to communicate, what can I say? He rattled his body, trying to wake his limbs, before moving atop of you. Perched on your legs, he studied your body, deducing wherever next he might cut you.

After mumbling something about symmetry, he moved the knife to the other thigh, positioning it parallel to the other cut. Right before he made the incision, he slid his thumb over your clit, circling it twice before pressing the blade into your flesh. He created a deeper cut than before. As it sunk further into your thigh, his thumb hinted onto your clit, before returning to its circular motions. An amalgam of moans and screams escaped you at once, creating a soft bubbling. You cocked your head to look at your virgin wound.

There was a considerably stronger stream of blood in this wound. It wasn’t enough to be severely damaging or even dangerous, but enough to create a tiny river which flowed onto the sheets and into the crevices of your thighs. You felt its warmth against your vulva, the wetness of your folds mixing with its thickness. Your leg started shaking and a chill ran through your body.

Joker’s eyes stalked yours. He slowed down his movements before dipping his fingers into the blood which seeped out of you, staining them red. You panted underneath him, squirming, wishing for him to continue, but instead, he stuck his fingers into your mouth.

“Suck,” he ordered. You hungrily obeyed him, lapping up the mixture of precum, blood, and grime like a dog. He removed his fingers and chucked the coin at you once more. “Last chance.” He continued stimulating your clit as your shaking hands grabbed the coin and tossed. The pain emanating from your thigh made you wince every time your body twitched in response to the increasing pace of the Joker’s fingers. You almost didn’t look at the coin when it landed.

Tails.

Your eyebrows shot up and a wistful gasp escaped your lips. You had figured the game had been rigged - and you hadn’t minded it. You’d never had such an opportunity before. You looked at Joker. He had an amused look in his eyes. While his right hand kept itself busy with your cunt, the other handed you the knife, which you shakily accepted.

Your eyes travelled between the blade and the Joker. You had never actually handled a knife before. Sure you’d thought about this scenario, but you never thought it would go down like this. It felt heavy in your hand.

“Do it, do it,” he hissed, grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer to him. You let out a whine, arching your back. You moved the knife around clumsily, observing his already-scarred body as you did. A couple of times you almost nicked him, but you jerked back last minute. You heaved, the blend of signals overwhelming you. Your mind blanked.

“Come on!”

In a moment of animalistic fury, you sliced at the joker before tossing the knife aside. It wasn’t until you looked that you realized the slice graced his upper arm and it was no shallow wound. The Joker laughed; a loud, shrill sound which bounced off the walls. He grabbed you by the hips and slammed into you.

You wheezed, a hiss of a sound escaping you. You grabbed onto his wounded arm, feeling his blood seep onto your hand. You crashed your lips against his while moving your hips nimbly against his. You mirrored his earlier motions, licking at his wound before returning to his lips.

As the speed of his thrusts increased, it became increasingly harder to keep track of your directions. A pang of sensations assaulting your body. The Joker was releasing groans of his own, steady vibrations in the air. You removed your hand from his arm and smeared his blood over your torso and tasting it on your tongue. It was funny how a man so inhumane tasted no different from any other.

You threw back your head as your vision paled - a bright light swamping you. He thumped deeply inside of you and it started to dull out everything else. The pain in your thigh, the coppery taste in your mouth, the ashy smell - it was all gone and all your eyes would see were the bright reds against the white sheets as you came.

It was, in many senses, the orgasm you had dreamed of when you’d conjured those stupid explanations for years. And who did you owe all that to? Nobody.

All of it was made very tragic by the returning realization that this would be their last.

You were jolted back to life by this realization, the Joker’s continuing pumps registering in your mind once more. You looked at him. For once, he wasn’t looking back, his face contorted in a smile and eyes staring up at the ceiling.

Your eyes shot towards the knife, dangling at the edge of the bed.

When you looked back at him, he had an intense stare. His lips were quirked into a tiny grin, and right before cumming, you saw him mouth do it.

Your body fell limply against the bed as his seed filled you. You grabbed the knife, holding it against your chest. The Joker fell next to you, his eyebrows dipping into his face. His eyes were looking all around, spinning about looking for answers.

“I have something to tell you,” you breathed, your grip tightening around the knife. Even then his eyes barely stayed still. You rolled over, laying on your tummy, rising above him.

“To me, there would be nothing more erotic than your blood all over my sheets.”

#im sorry about this mess lmao #is this smut or is it a character study?#the world may never know #hl joker #joker x reader #joker x you #heath ledger #tdk #joker imagine #ledger!joker #smut #lemon #lmao do ppl still call it that #blood kink #im a talentless freak of nature

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karihighman · 5 years ago

Text

I love this job more than I imagined I could. The day I stop giving it my all is the day I walk away.”

–John Nolan (Nathan Fillion), 2×14 “Casualties”

The quote above really encapsulates the draw of ABC’s police dramedy (that’s drama-comedy) The Rookie. The Nathan Fillion led series was ordered back in spring 2018, and aired its first season from 2018-2019. It’s currently in its second season, with a new episode airing this Sunday, April 26. In light of that – and because I’ve since managed to get 2 of my friends hooked on it – I decided I’d write up a few reasons as to why you should definitely check out this show…if you haven’t already!

Reason #1: The cast

(ABC/Andrew Eccles)

Yes, Nathan Fillion of ABC’s Castle headlines the series, but there’s a whole slew of cast members that carry the show just the same. Not to mention, you’ve probably seen them on other TV shows or films prior to their appearance on The Rookie.

CURRENT CAST (as of season 2–onward):

Nathan Fillion portrays John Nolan, the 45-year-old “rookie” who decided to pack up and move to LA to join the LAPD after a robbery at his local bank in Pennsylvania made him question his life decisions. You’ve probably seen him on: Castle, Firefly, Two Guys & a Girl, and/or Con Man.

Alyssa Diaz portrays Angela Lopez, one of three TOs (training officers) at the Mid-Wilshire Police Department in Los Angeles, California. You’ve probably seen her in: As the World Turns, Army Wives, The Nine Lives of Chloe King, and/or Ray Donovan.

Richard T. Jones portrays Sergeant Wade Grey, who is the immediate boss of the TOs, and is also responsible for their rookies, as well as the remainder of the police under his command at the station. You’ve probably seen him in: Judging Amy, Why Did I Get Married?/Why Did I Get Married Too?, and/or Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles.

Titus Makin Jr. portrays Jackson West, the second in the trio of rookies. His father is the head of LAPD’s Internal Affairs, so he’s struggled some with having to prove himself outside of his father’s shadow. You’ve probably seen him in: Glee, Starcrossed, Pretty Little Liars, and/or The Path.

Melissa O’Neil portrays Lucy Chen, the 28-year-old hotshot who completes the trio of rookies in the LAPD. She decided to become a cop on a whim, but she loves it so much now, even though it’s the opposite of what her psychologist parents want her to do career-wise. You’ve probably seen her in/on: Canadian Idol, Dark Matter, and/or as a part of the Broadway musical Les Miserables.

Eric Winter portrays Tim Bradford, the second training officer under Sgt. Grey. He’s first seen as the no-nonsense type, but has since softened some during season 2. You’ve probably seen him in: The Mentalist, Witches of East End, The Ugly Truth, and/or Days of Our Lives.

Mekia Cox portrays Nyla Harper, a former undercover detective turned training officer. She’s quite a badass, and does whatever she can to excel at work, as it’ll earn points in her favor, because she’s fighting for custody of her daughter with her ex-husband. You’ve probably seen her in: 90210, Chicago Med, Secrets & Lies, and/or Once Upon a Time.

CURRENT RECURRING CAST (as of season 2–onward):

Image Credits: (ABC/Christopher Willard); (ABC/Richard Cartwright); and (ABC/Eric McCandless)

Ali Larter as Dr. Grace Sawyer, a former flame of John’s from his college days. She now works at Shaw Memorial Hospital, and while she and John reconnect as just friends first, they eventually ramp it up to dating.

Harold Perrineau as Detective Nick Armstrong, a new night detective that assists the LAPD with their case load after their regular shifts. He becomes involved more so when notorious serial killer Rosalind Dyer is brought to Grey’s station per a deal with the DA.

Shawn Ashmore as Wesley Evers, a lawyer that is currently dating Angela Lopez. The two have been living together since the start of season 2, and are now engaged as of episode 16.

Jasmine Matthews as Rachel Hall, a social worker who is one of Lucy’s best friends, and currently the girlfriend of Tim Bradford.

Daniel Lissing as Sterling Freeman, Jackson’s boyfriend who’s (ironically? meta-ly?) the star of a cop show, Hot Suspect.

Sarah Shahi as Jessica Russo, who is an FBI agent that was brought in to work a biological terror attack. She and John have a brief relationship, but break it off by episode 6 of season 2.

FORMER CAST (season 1):

Mercedes Mason portrayed Captain Zoe Andersen, who was the tough but fair captain of the LAPD. She believed Nolan’s life experience would be good for the department. She was killed in episode 16 by a gang member who made an attempt on Nolan’s life.

Afton Williamson portrayed Talia Bishop, Nolan’s former training officer. She came off as brash at first, but she did help John a lot during his first six months on the job. She left the LAPD for a job with ATF; Afton exited the series after season 1 ended.

FORMER RECURRING CAST (season 1):

Mircea Monroe as Isabel Bradford, Tim’s ex-wife. She was an undercover officer, but got hooked onto drugs which made her lose her job, and consequently, her husband. Tim tried to help her numerous times, but they’d been estranged for a year. She did finally get clean; but they decided it’d be best to separate, as Tim did not want to remind her of her old life.

Michael Beach as Commander Percy West, Jackson’s father who runs Internal Affairs for the LAPD. He and his son had their tough moments, but the two seemed to have reconciled in the season 1 finale after Jackson’s heroic efforts to stop a viral criminal.

*random fun fact: Mekia’s not the only one with a One Chicago tie-in. Alyssa Diaz actually worked with Chicago PD actor Jesse Lee Soffer on As the World Turns, and Michael Beach actually just finished a recurring role on Chicago PD as Darius Walker. Joelle Carter, who portrayed Shawn Christian’s character’s wife in the “Hawke” episode, has been on not one, but 3 One Chicago shows. Two of which portraying Laura Nagel (Chicago PD for 1 episode, and the spinoff Chicago Justice); she guested on Chicago Med this year.

Just wanted to toss that tidbit in there since quite a few fans of The Rookie have also been fans of the One Chicago franchise – at least that I’ve interacted with on social media!

Reason #2: The balance of dramatic cases with humorous banter between the officers

(ABC/Ron Batzdorff)

While The Rookie is no means a straight comedy, it’s also not technically a classic police procedural either. That’s a good thing, as the balance of the lighter comedic moments interspersed with the dramatic or sometimes gruesome cases is what makes the show so damn entertaining. Oh, and did I mention there are bloopers? Because there are bloopers, and they are hilarious. Click here & here to see those!!

Reason #3: The pairs (TOs & Rookies)

(ABC/Ron Batzdorff)

Ah yes, another reason why The Rookie works so well. The pairings of the training officers with their respective rookie is spot-on. In season 1 you had the new, upbeat, John Nolan paired with spunky Talia Bishop; and the two bounced off each other quite nicely. John’s new TO, Nyla Harper, is just as sassy, if not sassier than Talia, but in a way, she’s a little more grounded, as she has a young daughter to consider. That’s something they have in common, as John has a 20 year old son, Henry.

(ABC/Christopher Willard)

Another pair is Angela Lopez and Jackson West. Sure, you would think: oh, here are two ambitious, young, intelligent people, so they should feed off each other, right? Wrong…at least not at first. And that’s what was so refreshing about it. Was that you had the push-and-pull between them that made you wonder if West could really stick it out with Lopez. He eventually did get over his “stage fright” when gunfire was occurring, but it took time; and it was realistic to see Angela be tough, yet understanding with him when it came to things like that. Not to mention, Jackson’s helped her out on the relationship front a few times, as he’s listened to her issues with dating, and Wesley. He even was the one who put the idea of a proposal in her head when they were at a stakeout! The two are really jiving, and it’s fun to see!

(ABC/Christopher Willard)

Last but not least is the duo of Bradford and Chen. They couldn’t be more opposite from each other at first glance: you’ve got tough-as-nails Tim, who’s got to train positive, spirited Lucy. Sounds like a little bit of a clash, right? It seemed like it at first, as Tim was very tough on Lucy; but he’s since let down his guard a little, which has been cool to see. He’s balanced out Lucy’s energy, and the two have since been so in-sync, it’s a little crazy at times (but in the best way possible)!

Reason #4: The “ships” (couples) of the show

(ABC/Christopher Willard)

Image Credit: Twitter/TheRookie

Image Credit: IG @TheRookieABC.

(ABC/Christopher Willard)

Image Credit: IG @TheRookieABC

Ah yes, the part that a lot of fans (myself included!) love about our favorite TV shows: the couples that pair off in it! It’s also worth mentioning that fans usually get excited about “should be” couples aka: people that they think should be together/dating/a couple/etc.

As far as The Rookie goes, there are actually quite a few well-established couples on the show, especially in season 2! If you need or want a quick season 1 refresher: Tim was technically still married to his now ex-wife, Isabel; Jackson had a brief relationship with Gino; Angela and Wesley had begun dating; and yes, John & Lucy had a brief thing early on!

Now, for season 2, you’ve got: Jackson & Sterling; Tim & Rachel; Wesley & Angela; John & Grace (John was previously dating Jessica); aaaaaaand the fan-favorite should-be couple: Tim & Lucy. The final “couple” is actually how I got hooked onto The Rookie – thank you social media for all the #Chenford/#Tucy hashtags!!

Most everyone loves these relationships because they’re fun, endearing, dramatic, and sometimes even a little bit funny. It’s quite a nice counterbalance to all the death and destruction the LAPD encounters on the streets everyday, you know? Plus, who hasn’t found a couple on a show that they like a lot, right? It’s fun to interact with other fans about it too – which is part of the reason why “ships” are really effective.

Jackson and Sterling have that lovely push-and-pull dynamic, where, since Sterling’s a celebrity, and Jackson’s a cop, they had to keep it low-key at first. But now, since they’re technically out of the spotlight, they’re free to do as they please.

Tim and Rachel originally began as a bet, but, it turned into something more afterwards. Even though the two have had their little disagreements here and there, it’s been really interesting to see Tim open himself up to a new relationship after his wife in season 1. The fact that Rachel’s one of Lucy’s best friends is…beside the point. Although, for fans of Chenford/Tucy, it’s kind of comical, or ironic. I’m not quite sure which.

Speaking of Chenford, Tim & Lucy are the ones that fans have been clamoring to get together – even though technically, nothing can happen between the two until Lucy’s no longer a rookie (Tim’s her TO!). I’ll admit, I was originally intrigued by them because of their similarities to another “should-be” cop couple I ship: Upstead from Chicago PD; but, seeing how in-sync the partners are on The Rookie, I understand why everyone wants them to be more than that. I sure do!

Wesley and Angela have been steady since season 1, and his heartbreaking PTSD storyline in season 2 only brought them closer together, and showed just how strong of a relationship they have. Angela’s been super supportive, and Wesley’s always been confident in her abilities. They’re even the couple to beat in terms of major milestones: they’ve moved in together, and they’re engaged! YAY!

John and Grace were a little bit of a wildcard at the start, since they had a little bit of a history there. But, ever since they blossomed into friends, their transition into a relationship was relatively easy. It’s been nice to see John happy, and Grace seems to be really good for him right now.

Reason #5: The vibe behind the scenes

(ABC/Troy Harvey)

Last, but not least is the “vibe” behind the scenes of The Rookie. That includes the off-set antics the cast gets up to! It’s been really fun to scour social media and see their comments on not only The Rookie account, but on fan things too! The cast is also great about liking comments and posts that fans make, which is super-nice!

Not to mention, they’re just genuinely fun people – at least judging from their behind the scenes posts and on-set videos! From car sing-a-longs to random dance parties, there’s never a dull moment on The Rookie set! They’re such good sports. Not only does that camaraderie come through onscreen, but it helps the chemistry to translate nicely as well. Believability is part of what sells TV, and The Rookie has that skill down pat!

Bonus: Favorite Episodes So Far / Ones To Watch

Image Credits: (ABC/Richard Cartwright) and (ABC/Christopher Willard)

Note: this is just my own personal list, but if you have any more to add, feel free to comment! 🙂 PS: Season 2 is available for streaming on ABC.com or Hulu; season 1 is not, but there are a bevy of clips online (YouTube) which can help catch you up!

The Pilot, of course! 1×01, and then the kind-of-sort-of subsequent follow-up 1×02 “Crash Course”

1×04 “The Switch”

1×07 “The Ride Along” & 1×08 “Time of Death”

1×14 “Plain Clothes Day” and 1×15 “Manhunt”

1×19 “The Checklist” and 1×20 “Free Fall” (the season 1 finale)

2×01 “Impact” (picks up right after season 1 leaves off!)

2×03 “The Bet” and 2×04 “Warriors and Guardians” (which is Mekia’s debut!)

2×06 “Fallout” and 2×08 “Clean Cut”

2×10 “The Dark Side” and 2×11 “Day of Death” *you should definitely watch these back-to-back, as 2×10 serves as the midseason finale; 2×11 is the midseason premiere*

2×12 “Now and Then”; 2×16 “The Overnight”; and 2×17 “Control”

That’s all for me for now! 5 (or 6, if you count the dramatic episodes!) reasons to watch The Rookie! You can catch all-new episodes on ABC, Sunday nights at 10/9 c! Be sure you’re following the show on Twitter and/or Instagram so you can see fun behind the scenes content, not to mention live-tweet during tomorrow’s all-new episode! Hope ya’ll liked this post!

Credit: GIPHY/Google

Why You Should Be Watching #TheRookie (if you're not already!) I love this job more than I imagined I could. The day I stop giving it my all is the day I walk away."

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primatechnosynthpop · 5 years ago

Note

I can't choose between "you should have said that yesterday" and "maybe in another world" soooo I'll let you decide :)

Hmm... what about... both? :3 (Since you didn't specify which characters to write about I'm just doing Hiro and Ando; they seem like a safe bet where you and I are concerned)

For a person with superhuman abilities, particularly one who has taken it upon himself to be a hero, it's amazing how quickly life can change. One day, you're having fun, and the next...

On Sunday morning, which thanks to differing time zones was evening for their Americans friends, Hiro and Ando were invited out for drinks at a bar in New York. Hiro was initially unsure if it would be responsible, since they had work the next day, but Ando talked him into it more easily than he would have liked to admit. (Ironically, when it was revealed that it was a karaoke bar, Hiro's enthusiasm increased while Ando's diminished.) Still, both of them had a great time, especially after a couple of drinks. Hiro even managed to talk Ando into singing a duet with him.

"Ohh, you're the best friend that I've ever had!" Hiro swayed slightly on his feet as he sang. "I've been with you such a long time, you're my sunshine..."

He leaned forward, tripping over his feet in the process; without missing a beat, Ando caught him and set him back on his feet while singing the next line of the song.

"And I want you to know that my feelings are true," he crooned, holding Hiro's gaze over the top of the microphone. "I really love you~"

Hiro's cheeks, already flushed from the alcohol, grew a darker shade when Ando batted his eyes at him. Giggling, he gave a playful swat at his friend's head, like a kitten batting at a piece of string, then turned to face the other bar patrons and struck a dramatic pose as he and Ando sang out in chorus: "Ohh, you're my best friend!"

When it was creeping up on 4 AM in eastern daylight time and the bar was closing, they bode a cheerful goodbye to their friends (all of whom were in varying stages of drunkenness) and Hiro teleported them back home. Although it was only mid-afternoon in Tokyo, Hiro was exhausted after such a raucous outing, and the two glasses of cherry wine he'd gulped down were beginning to churn most unpleasantly in his stomach and dull his higher senses. Groaning, he flopped facefirst onto his bed without even taking his shoes or jacket off. He probably would have immediately fallen asleep were it not for the sensation of Ando poking him in the side.

"Oi, Hiro, this is your bedroom."

"Mm? Yeah, it is," Hiro mumbled around the fabric of his pillowcase. "So what?"

"So, take me back to my own apartment before you fall asleep."

Hiro rolled over onto his side to face Ando, who was standing over him with his arms crossed. His expression was a mixture of frustration and bemusement. Hiro gave him a sleepy, half-lidded smile.

"It's not a problem," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Just sleep here with me."

"What, like in your bed?" Ando shook his head. If he'd been thinking more clearly, Hiro might have better understood the strange look that came over his friend's face, or why he suddenly averted his eyes. "That's not happening."

"Don't sleep, then. Just go watch TV in the living room or something."

With that, Hiro rolled back over and closed his eyes. From behind him, he heard Ando sigh. A few seconds later, the weight of the bed shifted as Ando sat down next to him on the edge of the bed. He was silent for a moment before speaking up, his tone weary and almost vaguely wistful.

"That song we sang at karaoke tonight... apparently it's really about a married couple." For a moment, Hiro thought he felt something brush against his cheek, but when he opened his eyes and looked over his shoulder Ando had his hands folded in his lap and was fidgeting with them. "...Maybe in another world..."

"What?" Hiro asked, squinting in confusion. The cogs in his mind spun in an attempt to work out the meaning behind his friend's words, but those proverbial cogs were rusted from the alcohol in his system, and he had no idea what Ando was talking about. "You say strange things, Ando."

Ando laughed at that, and the bed's weight shifted again as he stood back up.

"Yeah, I guess I do," he said. "Good luck sleeping off the cherry wine, Hiro. I'll see you whenever you wake up."

The rest of Sunday afternoon and the following night passed in a haze. Hiro woke up at around 7 PM with a mild hangover and got up to make some instant ramen; he shared a bowl with Ando and they sat on the couch together watching reruns of an old shojo anime show until both of them fell back asleep.

When Monday morning rolled around, they were a little late getting into work. Hiro got into the shower first, and Ando yelled at him from outside to hurry up. They made each other turn around while they were getting dressed (Ando borrowed an outfit from Hiro, and it didn't fit him very well, but Hiro wasn't going to complain about the slight glimpse of midriff allowed by the hem of his top when Ando wore it). While heading out the door, Hiro stuffed a piece of toast into his mouth, and Ando joked that he looked just like the protagonist of the show they'd been watching the night before. They took the train across town to the office together, pressed snugly up against each other. With the alcohol out of his system and his mind clearer, Hiro was a bit flustered by their proximity, but somehow he found that he enjoyed it. There was something almost domestic about the whole situation, and for reasons he was currently unwilling to name, that brought him a thrill of excitement.

Kimiko arched an eyebrow at them when they arrived at Yamagato Industries, but she refrained from commenting. Hiro waved at his sister over his shoulder as he and Ando scurried down the halls to the Dial-A-Hero office. He let out a sigh of contentment as he slumped into the cushiony office chair at his desk. Ando pulled up his own office chair and took a glance at their answering machine to make sure they hadn't missed any calls before sitting down beside him.

"No calls?" Hiro asked, readying himself for the inevitable pang of disappointment that would be brought on by the response. As time went on, a few more people called to ask for their services, but they still only got one or two calls a day if they were lucky, and most of the jobs were small things that their clients just as easily could have called the fire department for.

"Actually, it looks like someone called us just a couple minutes ago," Ando said. He sounded surprised--understandable, considering the aforementioned rarity of people calling them. "But they didn't leave a message."

"Let's call them back," Hiro said, leaning eagerly across the desk to press the redial button on the answering machine. He lifted the phone off the hook and held it to his ear. It buzzed twice before someone picked up.

"Hello? Is this Dial-A-Hero? Oh, thank god you picked up!" The voice on the other end of the line sounded urgent; Hiro stiffened with alarm upon hearing shouting and what sounded like gunshots in the background. "Someone's robbing the bank! Quick, you have to stop them!"

"Who is it? What's happening?" Ando asked, leaning over to listen in on the conversation.

Hiro lowered the phone and put his hand over the mouthpiece to address his companion. "It's a bank robbery." Then, bringing the phone back up to his ear: "Where is the address? We'll be there in a moment!"

The person told them the address, and Hiro hung up the phone and grabbed his sword from where it was displayed on the wall. Putting his hand in Ando's, he squeezed his eyes shut and teleported them to the address their client had given.

Sure enough, there were three masked people standing in the middle of the bank, brandishing guns; two of them hung back while the third was aiming his weapon at the woman behind the bank counter. The other bank employees and customers were crouching down behind desks and teller machines, muttering anxiously amongst themselves. When Hiro and Ando appeared, gasps sprung up amongst the civilians; two of the robbers spun around to aim their weapons at them.

"Put down your guns and leave this building now," Hiro commanded, brandishing his sword with a stern glare. "Or my partner and I will--"

Before he could finish that thought, a rapid series of bangs rang out as the robbers fired their guns. The gasps and murmurs of the civilians broke into screams, and at his side, he heard Ando scream as well. Those sounds were abruptly cut off when Hiro froze time. Four bullets froze in midair, one of which was barely an inch away from Hiro's forehead. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of it; gulping, he lowered the bullet and then moved the other three out of his and Ando's way as well. He deposited the bullets into the trash can by the desk, where they found their place amidst a pile of crumpled receipts and candy wrappers. Then, brushing his hands off, he marched over to the robbers and pried the guns out of their hands. With the robbers unarmed, Hiro grabbed each of them in succession and teleported them to a police station, where he unfroze time and shoved the robbers toward the nearest officer.

"These men were robbing a bank," he said. "'Lock them up before they can hurt anybody else."

The police officer looked rather startled, as did the robbers, one of whom immediately spun around and tried to shoot Hiro with a gun that he no longer had. Hiro smirked, feeling quite pleased with himself as the officer looked the robbers up on their computer and announced that they had previously been charged for several counts of theft and attempted robbery. Leaving the police to take care of things, he teleported back to the bank to make sure everyone there was safe.

When he reappeared in the bank, he knew immediately that something was wrong, and it brought a sharp twisting sensation to his gut. The employees and customers who had previously been hiding were now clustered around the spot where Hiro and Ando had shown up, muttering things like "Oh my god" and "Is he going to be okay?!" Heart spiking with alarm, Hiro pushed past the gathered crowd to find Ando sprawled out on the ground, blood pooling around him. Hiro froze at the sight of his collapsed friend, blood running cold.

"Ando, what--what happened?!" he stammered, dropping to his knees and laying a hand atop the dark red stain on the front of his friend's borrowed shirt. "I stopped time before the bullets could hit us!"

"Before they could hit you," Ando corrected him, raising his head to meet Hiro's gaze. He spoke through gritted teeth, but he didn't sound angry so much as scared. "One of them had already hit me."

"What? No," Hiro whimpered, shaking his head.

It was a stupid thing to say, he knew, because the irrefutable evidence was laid out before his eyes, but... no! His mind refused to wrap itself around the fact that he, the master of time and space, had been too slow to stop the man he cared so deeply for from getting hurt. Ando must have understood that to some degree, because he didn't bother offering a retort. Sighing, he laid his head back down on the cold tile floor of the bank, while around them the civilians parted and he heard someone in the background talking about calling an ambulance.

Hands trembling, Hiro pushed up the bottom of Ando's shirt so he could see the injury. Sure enough, a bullet was embedded in his upper abdomen, exposing a grisly mess of blood and flesh that made Hiro gag. All the while, blood continued to pour from the wound, seeping between the tiles of the floor and soaking through Hiro's pant legs as he knelt beside his friend.

"You... you'll be okay," Hiro told him, and it came out sounding like a command. "You have to be okay!"

Ando began to open his mouth but then closed it again, as if changing his mind about what to say. He brought his hand up to lay it atop Hiro's, threading their fingers together, and gave him a sad smile.

"Hiro... I love you."

The words pierced through Hiro as though he were the one who'd just been shot. He understood the finality concealed behind that confession. And the worst part was that, now that he heard those words spoken aloud, only now could he put a name to the feelings that flared up in his heart whenever he was with Ando. The feelings he had harbored for years now. The feelings he had been too scared to acknowledge, for fear that they weren't reciprocated. And in that moment, when the palm of his hand was wet and sticky with Ando's slowly draining lifeblood, a jolt of misplaced anger surged through Hiro.

"You should have said that yesterday!" he blurted.

The melancholy expression on Ando's face didn't waver, even as a trickle of blood dribbled out the corner of his mouth. "What difference would it make?" he asked, words coming out slightly slurred as though it were still the day before and they were drunk and partying with their friends.

"Because if you told me then, I would have known what I felt, too," Hiro said, although he could barely choke the words out around the thick lump of emotion swelling in his throat. "And we could have taken today off so I could--I could kiss you, and--and we could date, and... and I never would have let you put yourself in danger again."

As he spoke, Ando's hand grew limp atop his own, and his skin gradually became cooler to the touch. That sad, regretful smile was still on his face when his eyes fell closed and his head lolled to the side. Cold, harsh dread clamped around Hiro's heart like the steel of a hunting trap closing around its prey, and he desperately grabbed his companion by the shoulders, lifting him off the ground.

"I love you, too!"

The confession was swallowed up by a sob that wracked Hiro's body, so he yelled it out again, and then over and over again as hot tears welled up in his eyes and poured down his cheeks.

"I love you, Ando. I've loved you for a long time. I should have told you... I love you, I love you, I love you!"

He rocked back and forth on his heels as he made his declarations, clutching his companion's unmoving body to his chest. But no matter how tightly he held Ando's body, no matter how passionately he cried out his feelings, Hiro knew it was too late. He had failed the man he loved, and now... and now...

Maybe in another world.

Ando's words from the previous day echoed in his mind, and now Hiro understood them. In another world--another timeline--if either of them had been bold enough to confess their love, they could have been together. Whether or not that would have changed the outcome of this day, Hiro didn't know. It didn't make a difference now anyway. In this world, he sat alone on a cold tiled floor, soaked through with the blood of the man he loved, with nothing to show for his love other than a lifeless body in his arms.

"I love you," he whispered through his tears one final time, just in case it would somehow make a difference or change what had happened.

It didn't.

#asks #jean--valswan #heroes #hey did you know that i write stuff sometimes?

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talatomaz · 5 years ago

Text

fresh start | team flash x fem!reader | part vi

a/n: this takes place between season 2 episode 5 and episode 6 and this story is mostly canon with a few things changed

warnings: none

word count: 2.9k

masterlist | request list | request rules

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

“Are you sure?”

You waved your hand and the guns, that the robbers were currently about to use to shoot at you, flew towards you. With the men disarmed, Barry ran around them and cuffed them.

“Yeah, I’ve doing a lot of thinking and I think it’s the right decision for me.”

After handing the cuffed robbers to Joe and Patty, Barry ran you both back to S.T.A.R Labs.

“Really?”

“Yes, Barry, really.”

“But I’m gonna miss you,” Cisco said, pouting.

“Cisco, I’m not leaving you. I’m still working at S.T.A.R Labs, but I’m just also going to be a detective too.”

“Does my Dad know?” Iris asked, as Barry took off his mask whilst you did the same.

“Yeah, I spoke to him the other day and then when I spoke to Captain Singh, he vouched for me. Which he didn’t have to do because Singh decided to instantly rehire me but I thanked him anyway.”

“But I’m going to miss you.” Cisco repeated, making you all laugh.

After an in-depth discussion with the team about ARGUS, you came to the realisation that since some ARGUS agents were still morally ethical, you wanted to exemplify the work that they do by going back to being a detective. Except this time, you were going to become a field cop rather than someone who dealt with reports and information.

Though you initially had some reserves about going out in the field, the most notable being you changing the future in some way or someone recognising you, you realised that the future was going to change no matter what and you couldn’t stop that. But what you could do is help Barry and the others change it for the better.

And what better way to do that than by being a cop on Joe’s meta-human task force and a meta-human protecting the city?

“Cisco’s right, though, y/n. It’s going to be weird not having you here all the time.”

“Don’t worry, Cait. I’ll still be here more often than you think. I’ll just be wearing a badge most of the time. And I’m not going to let it interfere with the work that we do here. I mean, Barry disappears half of the time and it’s all good.”

“True, I can always just run us both back here and we both get dressed super quick anyways, so it’s not a hassle.”

“So, when do you start, y/n?”

“Today.”

You all turned to the entrance of the cortex where Joe stood.

“Hey, sweetie.” Joe kissed Iris’s forehead.

“Today?” Barry asked.

“Yeah, Singh can’t wait to have you back and quite frankly, neither can I. I’ve been saying for months that you’ve needed to come back.”

“Thanks, Joe.”

“So, you ready to go? Obviously after you take off all that,” Joe gestured to your Meson outfit.

You went into the med bay and not even five minutes later, you came out dressed in a black pantsuit, your wavy hair flowing just past your shoulders.

“Damn, y/n, looking good.” Iris commented as you smirked.

“Thanks, Iris.”

“That was quick, even by my standards.” Barry said.

“Guess you got competition then, Flash.” You said jokingly.

“You ready to go, y/n?” Joe asked.

“I think you mean Detective Davis, Joe.” Caitlin corrected.

You laughed, “I’ll see you guys later. Call if you need me.”

***

“Glad to have you back, Detective Davis.”

“Come on, Patty. We’ve gotten close these past few months, you can call me y/n.” You said, shaking her hand.

“Then, I’m glad to have you back, y/n.” She responded and you smiled.

“So, have the robbers from this morning been processed?” She looked at you confused. “Oh, Joe told me about them earlier.”

She nodded, convinced, “Yeah, they’ve just been transferred to Iron Heights.”

“Okay, so-“

You were interrupted by a breaking news alert on the TV screen and everyone turned their attention to the screen.

“It appears that a meta has broken into an abandoned industrial factory and has stolen some equipment…”

You turned from the TV to Patty and Joe.

“Let’s go,” Joe said, you and Patty followed him out of the police department.

***

“So I’ve just spoken to a couple of witnesses who all said that they saw a man, mid 20s, leaving the scene, driving a red pick-up, but they have no idea what he stole.” Patty said, walking up to you and Joe.

“Yeah, I mean, this factory only stores drills and other tools that you could easily get off any construction site.” You replied, confused.

“I spoke to a guy who used to work here and he told me that the place was officially shut down for unsafe conditions.”

“Unofficially?” You and Patty asked.

“Some guy was trying to manufacture some type of drill that was so high tech, that it could cut through almost anything. That could be quite valuable.”

“Did he say what type?”

“Uh,” Joe looked at his notes, “a 15. amp hammer drill.”

“Damn, that shit can cut through almost anything. And there’s also something that might indicate what the meta’s powers are.”

You showed Patty and Joe to the security system.

“Initially, it was thought that the meta hacked into the system to unlock all the doors, which, at first glance, makes sense. I’m running a check to see if the system was hacked.”

“But you don’t think it was?” Patty asked.

“No, I don’t. I know code, and there’s no record of a line of code anywhere. I’d have to check to be sure, but I think the electrics were manipulated.”

“Meaning what? A meta who can control electricity?”

“Not necessarily, Joe. Everything else was in intact. I think the meta can manipulate controls or at least override them. Basically he can turn things on and off. And lucky for us, his powers seem to be channelled through his hands.”

“You got a print?”

“Yeah, when I get back, I’m going to run it through AFIS and see if we have any hits.”

“Damn, y/n, I forgot how good you were.” Joe stated.

After collecting some more evidence, the three of you went back to the station and you handed some of the samples to Barry for him to analyse.

Then you went to your computer and ran the print through the data systems and whilst you waited, you were talking to Patty about her and Barry.

“So, is it going well between you two then?” You asked, leaning against your desk.

“Yeah, I think so. I mean, one of our first dates was quite memorable.”

“Oh, because he couldn’t see?”

She furrowed her brows.

“Oh, Barry told me when I was at S.T.A.R Labs last week.”

“What do you even do at S.T.A.R Labs? Barry is almost always there.”

“I help Cisco and Caitlin with a lot of tech that they have and we’re all good friends which is probably why Barry’s there a lot.”

She nodded, “So are you seeing anyone?”

You shook your head, “No, I’ve had a few flings here and there but I’m not with anyone right now. Besides-”

You stopped talking when your screen bleeped.

“Looks like we got a match.” You sat in your chair and showed Patty your screen. “Guy’s name is Oscar Cartwright.”

“Yeah, he was arrested for breaking and entering, robbery, and looks like he has a background in construction. Must be how he knew which tools to steal.” Patty suggested.

You printed off the file so you could show it to Joe, “Come on, let’s go.”

After you briefed Joe, he told you and Patty to check out his most recent address but when you got there, it was empty.

It looked as if it hadn’t been used in a while; the only indication that someone was staying there was the unmade bed and discarded clothes around the room. Then you both realised there was a basement and when you went down here, you found blueprints to a building.

As you were about to gain more intel by checking it out further, the laptop, containing the blueprints, began to overheat and exploded in front of the two of you.

“He must have known we were coming and used his powers to destroy any traces he left behind.” Patty said, coming back into the basement after calling CSU.

“Yeah, do you want to stay here whilst I try and figure out what was on the laptop?”

“Yeah, sure, just call if you find something.”

As you walked back up the stairs, you passed Joe,

“Hey, Joe. I’m gonna take this to S.T.A.R Labs to see if Cisco and I can recover what was on here since it looked important.”

“Okay, hopefully it can lead us to this Cartwright guy.”

***

“Getting anywhere?” Caitlin and Iris walked into the cortex and looked at you and Cisco.

“I think so. We’ll most likely be able to recover the data within the next hour.” You responded, as you continued typing.

“Hopefully.” Cisco interrupted. “This meta basically fried the mainframe and we had to reconstruct the circuitry which took ages.”

“We’re glad to have you back though, y/n.” Caitlin said, and you turned around and laughed.

“Cait, I’ve only been gone a day.”

“It feels like longer though.” She said.

“Well, I’ve missed you guys too.”

“So this meta, what exactly are his powers?” Iris asked.

“As best I can tell, he’s able to take control of systems by overcharging the system and-”

“OverCharge.” Cisco interrupted.

“What?” You, Caitlin and Iris looked at Cisco.

He turned around to face the three of you, “OverCharge.” He repeated, “That’s his name.”

You started laughing at the coincidence and it was Cisco’s turn to be confused. “OverCharge. OC. The meta’s name is Oscar Cartwright. I swear these names write themselves.”

You guys had a little mini catchup and after around an hour, you and Cisco were able to recover some of the data and in perfect timing, Barry walked in.

“Anything?”

“I’m just pulling up the blueprints now,” You continued typing and looked through the files, trying to find the right one.

Then you were interrupted by an alert on S.T.A.R Labs police scanner.

“Guys, there’s a runaway train.” Caitlin said so you and Cisco hacked into the subway’s mainframe.

“Shit, this isn’t an accident. I’m giving the command for the train to slow down, but nothing is responding.” You explained.

“It looks like there’s some sort of glitch somewhere that’s not allowing it to respond to commands.”

“Could it be the same meta?” Iris asked.

“Potentially, but Barry, we can’t stop the train from here so you gotta go.” Cisco said, so Barry suited up and ran off.

“I don’t know what OverCharge’s endgame is here. He steals a high tech drill, has blueprints and is now controlling a train? I don’t understand.”

“I think I do. I just managed to access some of the damaged data and he has blueprints to Central City Airport.” Cisco said, displaying the blueprints on the large screen so you could all get a better look.

“Dammit,” you pulled out your phone, called Joe and explained the situation.

“Joe, take Patty. Barry’s going to try and stop the train but I think it’s a distraction. Oscar’s breaking into Central City Airport. If I can, I’ll meet you there. Bye.”

You disconnected the call.

“What would he be stealing though?”

“I think I can answer that.”

Harry Wells walked into the cortex and on another screen, pulled up images of diamonds.

“This was being stored in their private security room.”

“Diamonds?” Cisco asked.

“Very valuable diamonds. Even back on my Earth, they were worth quite a lot. Like $57 million worth.”

You quickly messaged Joe the update so he knew where to look for OverCharge and then you diverted your attention back to the runaway train.

“Holy Shit. Barry, you cannot stop that train!”

“What? Why? I’m just in front of it.”

“Barry, y/n’s right. That train is 23 miles from approaching an unsustainable curve radius.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.” Barry said over the comms.

“We’ve got a major cant issue.”

“There’s no ‘can’t’ when it comes to the Flash.” Iris said.

“No, West, ‘cant’ is the name of the height difference between the outside and inside rails on a track curve.” Harry explained.

“The tilt creates a down-thrust to counter sideways force.” Cisco continued.

“And at the current speed of the train, the ‘cant’ can’t work.” You said.

“The train will derail.” Caitlin finished.

“So what do I do?”

Barry shouted over the comms and you quickly ran into the med bay and got changed into your suit whilst Harry explained what the Flash should do.

“You have approximately 7 minutes before that train reaches the curve. You need to phase onto the train and gain access of the controls.”

“Scratch that.”

You ran out of the med bay and back to the centre of the cortex, now dressed in your Meson suit.

“Barry, run back to S.T.A.R Labs now!” You said as you grabbed your mask.

“Why?”

“We don’t have time. Just do it!”

In, well, a flash, Barry was beside you. You picked up your laptop and grabbed his arm.

“Take me to the train now.”

“But-”

“Now!”

He picked you up and ran you to the station where you could hear the incoming train.

“You have to phase us both on there, Barry. I’ll be able to connect my laptop to the controls and gain access and manually slow the train down before we reach the curve.”

“But, y/n-”

“Trust me, I got this.”

You heard the sounds of the train getting closer and with your arm wrapped around Barry’s, he phased you both onto the train. It was a weird feeling. It was like pins and needles all over your entire body.

The moment you both were on the train, the Flash began to calm people down and you ran to the front of the carriage and used your powers to open the locked door.

As expected, the control system was fried, so you plugged your laptop into the train’s software and after 2 minutes, you were able to regain control of the train and managed to slow the train down.

But, to your surprise, it ended up gaining even more speed due to the sudden change.

You ran out of the control room and hacked into the P.A system, “Guys, I want you all to remain calm. The Flash is going to get you all off of here so could you all try and activate your emergency doors by pulling the cable just above the door.”

Barry came up beside you. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to stop this train but just in case, I need you to get everyone off of here.”

“Meson, it’s not safe.”

“I know and that’s why I need you to do this, Flash.”

Then you shouted to the rest of the people in your carriage, “Guys, can you all move onto the next carriage, please?”

They all obeyed and you told Barry to follow them.

“The moment I disconnect this carriage, the rest of the train will come to a stop, allowing everyone to get to safety.”

“Meson, what about you?”

“I’ll have 3 minutes to stop this carriage.”

“What happens if you don’t?” He asked.

“I will. I promise. Go do your job, Flash.”

You quickly disconnected the carriages and ran back to the control room and began typing.

“Y/n, you’re 7 miles from the curve and you’re approaching fast.” Cisco shouted over the comms.

“You gotta hurry, y/n. You only have a few minutes.” Caitlin said, worry clearly in her voice.

“A few minutes is all I need.”

You continued hacking into the system and was able to override all the systems, except the one that led to the train gaining even more speed and you knew there was only one more option.

“Y/n, you have 30 seconds!” Iris shouted over comms.

You shut your laptop and as you heard the screech of the train tracks, you ran to the centre of the carriage.

“15 seconds!” Cisco warned.

With all your energy, you used your powers to channel through the tracks so you could slow it down. The train came to a halt, just mere metres from the curve radius. You exhaled a deep breath in relief.

“Y/N!” Everyone shouted over comms.

“MESON, YOU GOOD?!” Barry yelled.

“I’m good, guys. The train’s stopped.” You heard everyone let out a relieved sigh.

After stopping the train and helping everyone off the other carriages, Barry ran you back to S.T.A.R Labs where you both got changed and then met Patty and Joe at Central City Airport, just in time to catch Cartwright red-handed. Now OverCharge was sitting in the meta-human wing in Iron Heights amongst the other meta-human criminals.

***

The following morning, before going to CCPD, you went to S.T.A.R Labs to meet Caitlin, Cisco and everyone else.

“You were amazing yesterday, y/n.” Caitlin said when you walked into the cortex.

“She’s right. You killed it.” Cisco stated.

“And it looks like the rest of Central City feels the same way.” Barry walked in with Joe and Iris and switched on the news.

“Ever since the heroic save by Meson yesterday, there has been an outcry of support for her.”

The news cut to a few interviews from people who were on the train.

“She was amazing. She was so calm and was willing to sacrifice herself for all of us.”

“I think Meson is inspiring. I’m so glad we finally have a female superhero.”

“I love her. She’s definitely my role model.”

The screen then cut back to the news reporter.

“There you have it. Move over, Flash, looks like Central City has a new superhero.”

<- Previous Part Next Part ->

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super-sons-a-bitches · 5 years ago

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Part two: Damian continues his reconciliations!

find part one on ao3 and on tumblr

Damian awoke with a start, heart beating fast before his brain could catch up. It took him a moment to realize what was wrong:

He was not in his bed.

He could tell immediately because it was warm and comfortable, soft light filtering through shades. Basically, nothing like Nanda Parbat. He tried to calm himself to take in his bearings and his lungs filled with scents that lulled his mind.

Smells of herbal tea and chocolate, earthy like a farmhouse kitchen-

Jon.

The Kryptonian must have caught the cue in his sleep as he turned next to him to bury his face in Damian’s chest to get away from the fast increasing sunlight. The warmth of Jon curled in to him addled his mind further and Damian struggled to remember how he got here.

They had ambled through the night rain, avoiding having to break apart until Jon finally offered a reprieve.

“Do you want to come upstairs?”

Damian forgot how to breathe. He hadn’t even realized they had made their way to Jon’s apartment.

Jon saw his friend’s panic and hastily explained.

“I only mean- it’s late to go over to Grayson’s. I figured, well, do you need a place to stay?”

The Demon found his breath again (though maybe a part of him was also a little disappointed).

“Oh, I don’t want to put you out. I’m sure the League has an outpost somewhere here or at least in Gotham…”

“Don’t be stupid. You’re already here. I have an extra blanket.”

So Damian had followed upstairs, pulled off wet clothes and borrowed too long pants from Jon.

“Not gonna suffer the matching shirt?” Jon joked as he tucked it back in a drawer. “Figured you’d want it since you get so cold.”

Damian blushed lightly at the remembered detail and muttered something about feeling straight-jacketed. Jon just smiled and said, “Good thing I got the extra blanket then.” Slipping under the covers, Jon’s body heat pulled Damian in and soon Jon was enveloped in strong limbs and musky scent, with warm breath on the back of his neck. It sent a little shiver down his spine.

It wasn’t long before they were asleep.

Jon’s blinking eyes broke him out of his reverie. Even off the farm, he didn’t sleep in late.

“G’morning,” he mumbled sleepily, rubbing his eyes.

“Hey,” was all Damian could get out because, damn, bedhead Jon was a sight.

He must’ve been blushing again because Jon chuckled and leaned in to brush his lips ever so lightly against Damian’s before rolling out of bed.

The Demon’s Head groaned at the loss of warmth.

“Oh, c’mon, sleepy head.”

When Damian only moaned again, Jon crawled back onto the covers to kiss him again.

This time was longer, deeper, and far more intriguing, pulling Damian fully out of sleep. Warmth filled his cheeks and began to pool in his stomach. His hands reached out from the sheets to lock onto his Kryptonian.

Which was Jon’s cue that he finally had his demon’s full attention. Groan number three pulled out of Damian’s lips as Jon did, but his eyes were less bleary now. Jon smirked in triumph, but then his expression changed. He looked meaningfully into Damian’s eyes.

“You can’t put it off.”

How did he know? Only one day and Jon was already able to read his thoughts again.

Damian sighed and looked down.

“I’m scared.” Jon was still thrown off by his raw, open honesty.

“I know. We’ll start easy. But they love you and miss you. And they deserve an explanation.” He cupped Damian’s chin in his hand. “Take it from me, ten years is long enough to wait.”

Bludhaven, despite being Gotham’s sister city, was fairly different from Damian’s childhood home. For one thing, sunlight actually got through the skyline to light up the sidewalks. For another, crime didn’t follow Gotham’s rule of waiting for nightfall. Maybe criminals here are vitamin D deficient.

Jon and Damian crossed the city, picking up coffee on the way over to Grayson’s apartment. They were taking their time because, as Damian said, “It’s Saturday. We’ll be lucky if he’s awake by noon.” And, as Damian didn’t say, “I’m panicking and need some extra time to get ahold of myself.”

What they didn’t know was that the first Robin was not only awake, but on the roof of a building in the next block. A major crime family had planned a hit on the Bludhaven Bank for that very day and, though Dick had warned the bank of the intel he found, he was still anxious and characteristically cautious. However, of all things he expected to see that day, Damian Wayne was decidedly not one of them.

His breath caught in his throat. He’s walking in Bludhaven. He’s here. He’s with Kent. He’s with Jon. Has he been here before, has he kept in touch with Jon this whole time and didn’t-

Dick cut off his own train of thought. No, just because no one expected him to leave doesn’t mean they didn’t know Damian and that he doesn’t care about them.

He knows Damian and Damian wouldn’t do that.

Besides, you can’t fake the pain that Jon had gone through alongside them the past 10 years. No, Damian must have just come back. And for whatever reason had gone to Jon first.

He watched intently as the men strolled down the sidewalk across the street, coming closer to his vantage point. He could almost see their hands, which were definitely interlocked, given how close together they were walking. A smirk spread across his lips.

But it was wiped away quickly, replaced with a gape of confusion as Damian and Jon ducked swiftly and unexpectedly into an alley.

Dick looked around for a reason and only then remembered why he was on the roof to begin with.

The bank was being robbed.

Superman and the Demon alighted on the roof across from the bank.

“Damn. What are the chances?”

“Watch your language, farm boy,” Damian teased. Unlike his Kryptonian, he wasn’t all that surprised. He’d grown, impossibly, even more cynical in his time among the Shadows. He saw it as realism – the chances were, in fact, fairly high.

“Come on, let’s get in there before these idiots hurt someone.”

Jon grabbed hold of Damian and flew them across the gap to the bank, dropping the Demon on the roof before crashing through a window. As Kent caught the attention of the criminals, Wayne snuck in the back to take care of the men already making their way to the safe.

Having kept track of all of the Batman Inc. enemies, Damian quickly identified the thugs as members of the prominent Bludhaven crime family. He had particular beef with the fucked up dynamics that led to dragging your loved ones into violent crime in the name of petty power. Landing quietly behind them, he took note of their likely stats and available weapons.

“Guys, I mean, I’ve got daddy issues, too, but there are easier ways to get some attention.”

The thugs reacted quickly, one turning and throwing a punch as the other ducked and picked up his firearm. The Demon was in mid-spin, countering the punch and winding up to knock his first opponent off his feet when the first shot rang out.

But speed, adrenaline, and close quarters were Damian’s allies. He wasn’t sure where the bullet landed, but it was inconsequential. He should try to prevent another one from getting out, though.

He twisted to face the armed Thug 2, grabbing his arm, bending the wrist, catching the released gun, and unloading the weapon in one swift move.

Shit. He thought before he was really sure what his brain was reacting to. In slow motion he realized he had miscalculated Thug 1’s speed. Damian had tracked him as he picked up his own gun, but didn’t think he’d have it set that quickly.

As the gun rose to his turning face, a black blur flashed in the background, knocking a heavy blow to Thug 1’s neck. With the threat falling to the ground, Damian was safe to take down Thug 2 and did so with ease.

“I don’t think they liked your joke.” Nightwing, following a more Wayne-like pattern than Kent, had come into the bank through the back, but had taken a few extra seconds to get from his vantage point. Now he stood over the thugs and gave Damian a quick evaluating once over.

Damian couldn’t move. The back of his mind had processed that this was a possibility, but he hadn’t given himself much of a chance to prepare, given it was a big bank in Grayson territory.

“Don’t sweat though. I thought it was funny.”

Dick flashed a quick smile, blinding as ever, and led the way to the main hall where Jon was takin on the rest of the would-be thieves. They sprang into action, each taking down a gunman in a matter of mere seconds.

The Superman had managed to wedge himself between the robbers and the hostages, but was having trouble disarming the thugs while also keeping everyone free of bullet holes. Nightwing and Demon came to his aid, working in unison, reading each other’s movements and remembering each other’s patterns from their days as Batman and Robin.

Before long, the hall was clear and Nightwing signaled to the police just arriving that the situation was handled. The three men took their exit through the hole Jon had made in the ceiling and regrouped atop a nearby building.

Damian straightened, received a reassuring glance from Jon and took a deep breath before making eye contact with Dick. He scrambled for words, despite the many speeches he’d prepared the in sleepless night before. The robbery, meeting like this, completely threw him off.

But none of it mattered because Grayson spoke first.

“You’re back.”

“I never really wanted to leave.”

“I didn’t think so.”

Dick stepped forward and pulled his baby brother into a tight hug. Damian didn’t hesitate to return the embrace. Relief washed through his mind and relaxed his whole body. His fingers curled deeper into his brother’s back, desperately trying to communicate how much he has missed him, how much he needed him, how much he loved him. Tears spilled from his eyes.

No other explanation was needed. Dick wouldn’t have cared.

Damian was home.

#Damian Wayne #dick grayson #robin #batman #nightwing #supersons #batfam #superboy #damijon #jondami #jon kent #jonathan kent #my work #writers of tumblr #fanfic

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puffdragongirl · 6 years ago

Text

Secrets (Not) to Keep (Team Secret Stab Wound)

Stacking the very last of the day’s reports on her desk, Shirayuki leans back in her chair with a satisfied sigh. Stretching her arms above her head, she savors the silence of the office after the chaos of today. Between her lectures and the sudden rush of patients from the summer cold going around Scholar’s Street, she had been busy nearly the entire day. She had barely managed ten minutes to scarf down some buns an equally-harried Suzu had brought back from a street vendor for lunch. Her stomach growls at the thought of food, and she glances at the clock.

Obi is late again… It isn’t entirely surprising, but she can’t help but frown. Obi usually sends word when he is running this late, but the past few weeks have been an exception. Makiri, citing his self-proclaimed specialty of bandit hunting, had put Obi in charge of an investigation of the sudden spike of robberies and assaults in the area. Although he still made a point of stopping in the pharmacy at least once a day to check in, adding the oversight of extra patrols and scouting of leads to his existing duties kept him from their usual shared dinner more nights than she would prefer.

Sighing, she pushes back from her desk and heads towards the kitchens. They had been planning to try out a new place in the tent district tonight, but if Obi was still working this late, he might not even return before the restaurant closed. He might be content to make do with whatever he can rummage from the pantry on late nights, but Shirayuki hates the thought of him capping off a long day with such a meagre meal. Her stomach also reminds her of her own hunger, so as she walks she considers what options will be quick to cook, but also hold for the next few hours. We had stew yesterday so that’s out, but I think we have shrimp in the ice box, and Yuzuri did bring us that garlic…

A bang from the stockroom draws her away from her planning, and she comes to a halt. Turning, she finds the door slightly ajar, although no light from candles shines from within. She is certain everyone else had left, and had not heard anyone return, so who was in the stockroom? Add to that the sounds of drawer after drawer being yanked open, of hands scrambling roughly through their contents, not to mention the recent rise in robberies, and she is more than a little concerned.

Cautiously, she approaches the room, and peers through the crack in the door.

“Ryuu?” the boy startles, head whipping around from where he was pawing in a drawer, “What are you doing here?” It isn’t unusual to see him in the pharmacy late, especially when he was in the middle of a project, but she knew he had plans tonight, “Weren’t you and Kirito having dinner tonight?”

“I, uhh-,” he stumbles over his words, looking more nervous than she’d seen him in ages, “We did, but…” His eyes dart around the room, and he speaks slowly until they light on his messenger bag, then the words tumble out, “I just remembered I had to…to restock my kit.”

“Your kit?” she asks, not missing his unusual behavior, “Didn’t you just restock yesterday?” His mouth opens and closes, and his eyes travel around the room again as if to search out another excuse for his presence. “Is…is everything okay?”

“No, I mean, yes, I mean…” he holds up his hands in supplication, a habit he’d picked up from Obi, and she spies the edge of his sleeve, where a red stain has soaked into the cloth.

“Ryuu!” she gasps, grabbing at his arm, “Is this blood?!” She pushes up the sleeve, inspecting his arm frantically for any sign of injury, “Oh my Gods, are you hurt? What happened? Come on, let me look – ”

“No!” Ryuu interrupts, pulling her hand from his arm, and she feels the cold sweat gathered on his palm, “I-I’m not hurt; it’s not mine.” He looks to the side, mouth trembling a bit as he struggles to force out the words, “It-it’s Obi’s…”

Shirayuki nearly sprints to the training halls, clutching the strap of her medical bag the whole time. Skidding to a stop before the double doors, she shoves them open and looks frantically for her injured knight. Obi leans against the far wall; head back, eyes closed, and brow furrowed slightly in pain. One hand is pressed tightly to his side, and even from the door she can make out the slightly darker patch where his blood has soaked his shirt.

“Little Ryuu,” he calls, hearing the bang of the door against the wall, but not yet bothering to open his eyes, “I think you are worrying over nothing.” He snorts, then continues, the gold of his eyes coming into view slowly, “If anything the Miss is going to be mad at me for this. I’m the one who –”

She can tell when he sees her, since his words cut off mid-sentence. Sheepishly, he offers her a grin, straightening from his slump against the wall, “Ah, Miss, I was just thinking about you.”

She blows out a breath to steady herself, frustration at the secrecy, worry for his injury, and relief that he is at least well enough to joke all warring within her.

“Let me see,” she kneels by his side, pushing his hand away and pulling his shirt up and off his torso. He hisses as air hits the wound but submits to her poking and prodding. The gash is deep, running just along the bottom of his ribs, but thankfully seems nothing but a flesh wound. Reaching for her bag, she pulls out a clean cloth and some alcohol. To distract him from the sting, she prompts him to talk, “Do you want to tell me what happened? Ryuu was too shaken up to.”

“Ah, well…” he sucks in a breath at the first touch of the cloth to his skin, “Little Ryuu was concerned after that attack on the convoy two months ago; that one with Little Kirito’s friend.” He shifts slightly, nodding towards a blood-stained dagger abandoned in the ring, smaller than Obi’s own but clearly well-made, “He asked me to show him the ropes, so we’ve been practicing, with wooden blades of course. Today was the first he had a real blade in a spar, so he was a bit nervous. He tripped, and it was me or him so…”

The sheepish grin returns, and he shrugs. She doesn’t need him to finish the sentence to know it wasn’t really a choice. Obi would never let him be hurt, even if securing Ryuu’s safety meant sacrificing his own. Although she wants to rail at him for his recklessness, she knows she would have done the same. Explanations out of the way and tensions eased, they sit in a companionable silence as she cleans and stiches the wound. It is not until she coats the injury in ointment and presses a pad against the wound that he breaks the silence.

“Sorry for missing our dinner time,” Obi apologizes, shifting as she wraps bandages around his chest to secure the pad, “It was just an accident, but Little Ryuu was afraid you’d be angry with him.” He fiddles with his shirt, pulling a face at the part sticky with partially-dried blood, but pulls it back on once she finishes the wrapping, “I knew you wouldn’t be angry with him, but he was so worried I didn’t want to upset him more by arguing.”

“I would be lying if I said I wasn’t upset he wanted to hide this” she admits, stepping back to give Obi room to climb to his feet, “But I’m just happy everyone is okay.” As they head for the door, her stomach grumbles loudly, protesting her lack of dinner now that everyone is safe. She feels her face heat with a blush as Obi laughs, but soldiers on gamely, “I am also a little upset my knight abandoned our dinner plans.”

“Well, never let it be said I left my lady unsatisfied,” wiping tears from his eyes, he offers her the arm on his uninjured side, “To dinner, Miss?”

Along the way, they stop in the pharmacy, where Ryuu has been reorganizing the storeroom he tore apart in his panic. Relieved to see Obi back on his feet, he rushes as if to hug him, but stops just short as if unsure of his welcome.

“It’s okay, Little Ryuu,” Obi reaches out to pull the boy into a one-armed hug, ruffling his hair, “These things happen.”

“But let’s try to have them happen less in the future,” Shirayuki chimes in, but softens her words by tugging Ryuu into a hug on her own. “Come on, let’s get Obi in a clean shirt and head to town for dinner.” She glances at the clock, “If we hurry, we can probably still make it to the Snuggly Duckling before closing.”

“Snuggly Duckling?” Ryuu questions, but follows along as they head for Obi’s quarters, “Is that the new place in the tent district? Kirito went there and he said…”

Fun facts:

They do make it to the Snuggly Duckling in time for dinner, and find the apple dumplings delightful, although the savory buns aren’t nearly as good as those from the street vendors.

Ryuu is leery of continuing dagger practice for a few days, but eventually gets back into it when Shirayuki agrees to sit in on practice. Nobody is surprised when Shirayuki joins the lessons a few weeks later.

#obiyukimadness19 #obiyuki #secret stab wound #semifinals #I DID IT #I FINISHED THIS ONE ON TIME AHHHH #*screeches into the void*#obi #ryuu #shirayuki #ans #puff writes #tw: mentions of blood #nothing graphic but just to be safe

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jetthawks · 5 years ago

Text

「 Nat Wolff. male. he/him. 」oh, her ? yeah, that’s Jethro “Jett” Hawkins. people are always talkin’ about how spontaneous & cunning they are, but i think they can be detached & uninterested. guess that’s why they’re known around rosewick as “Jetthawk The Witch Boy” he’s a twenty-three conman, and you can catch him over on the south side. rumour has it he is the famous Witch Boy —son of the local psychic and witch that was assassinated by the mafia (or maybe A)— and remains supposedly disappeared.

DEATH TW, MURDER TW, BLOOD TW.

Downtown. It is late at night in the low(est) sides of the South and blinking neon signs can be read from afar on a brick wall: PSYCHIC. LOVE POTIONS. PALM READING. RECIPE FOR SUCCESS.

A black slick Mercedes parks at the front and four men get out. Three of them are brutes, most likely they don’t even know how to count. Then, another man, slightly older, but very well dressed and he shamelessly shows off a bunch of golden rings around his fingers.

A woman inside, sitting on a velvet red chair immediately recognizes the visitors and shoves her kid under a trap door. UH-OH, this is isn’t good. The men enter and Jett only hears loud voices, palms slamming on the table, a click and then a small, yet loud explosion. THEN SILENCE. Jett crawls out of the hideout as soon as he hears the tires screech away. His mother is on the floor, she isn’t moving and the planks of the floor absorb the blood through the little black spaces between them. The boy was only SEVEN.

Nobody wants to be responsible of lil’Jett, there were no other family members known and everybody played deaf and blind to what happened that night; so good boy goes into the system.

Cliché story: foster homes suck, he is the little and weak one, he gets pushed around; naturally he is not gonna make it because of his strength, so Jett starts TRAINING HIS MIND INSTEAD. He becomes very observant, his thin frame helps him be quick and sly when he needs to and he discovers a particular affection towards poker cards when his caretaker and his friends fall asleep drunk mid-game. The kid sneaks into the kitchen to get some milk and to his foot stuck a Joker card, which he immediately adored.

The card became his token and little by little, snatching coins from under the couch and behind the fridge, Jett managed to buy his first deck of cards; of course they were old and a second-hand acquisition, but it was the first thing ever he got with his own money and OH BOY, he was excited.

Taking little trips very early when the caretaker was still asleep, Jett got the newspaper’s seller trust to take a peek at the Magic Corner, a magazine about basic magic tricks for kids and of course, he devoured all that had to do with cards and coins.

Time goes by and Jett is fourteen, he is tired of living under an iron fist and so, he packed his few things and left the house to never go back. NOTHING AWAITED FOR HIM IN THERE AFTER ALL.

PERSONALITY & PRESENT

While Jett really enjoyed magic and overall, tricking people, his biggest passion was SURVIVING. Sometimes being a conman wasn’t enough, specially with all the competition around the city, so sometimes, he would have to end up doing some side-jobs like working on delivery ( of illegal stuff of course ) or sneaking in to make a little robbery for someone else. None of this made him proud, even though he always talks loud about his thief abilities.

Y’know, rough past and cynical attitude. Jett didn’t really know kindness through his life and it shows. He doesn’t trust easily and won’t do anything that doesn’t benefit him in some way. A True Neutral at heart.

Sleeping in shelters, couches or alleys, the boy is always on the look for his next gold and the next place he will use as temporary room. He hates feeling like a charity case and so, will rarely accept anything if he didn’t work for it or gained it in a bet.

Long ago, when his mother was still alive, he heard her talk through the phone about him “having the genes” , whatever that meant is still unknown to Jett , but he REALLY hopes is not an illness or something like that.

He is very observant, able to use the deductive method to read you up and down; is this result of his brains? His years facing the streets? Is he actually a psychic unlike his mother? Nobody knows, not even him, but THANKS GOD his good instincts, because that is what has kept him alive all these years.

Comrade of everyone and friend of no one, he travels so much that he hasn’t ever really bonded with someone and he says he doesn’t need it, attachments mean weaknesses and he ain’t up for having them.

At this point he doesn’t really have an objective in life, just the day-by-day life.

His biggest phobia is BLOOD. He can’t see it, smell it or feel it. He can even faint upon the sight of it because it recalls THE tragic event of his life.

He is a good kid, but always prone to cause some trouble if possible AND IF REWARDED.

He can do some America’s Got Talent card shit, but just not AS GOOD, otherwise he’d be famous and rich amirite?? But he’s in the process of learning. He can steal your wallet and watch without you noticing, though.

Doesn’t have a phone, but the park during the mornings is a good place to find him, otherwise, he can be pretty much anywhere, most likely running away from something.

HE MISSES HIS MOM. Lowkey hates happy families.

Idk there’s a lot and I could go on forever, so next thing!

PLOTS / CONNECTIONS ( warning, I suck at these )

Friends. He has never had them, it’s time for a change.

The Royal and the Commoner. I am a sucker for opposites. This can be either romantic or platonic!

People he has / is / will work for. Can either be shady stuff or an actual honest job! ( consider he officially just finished middle school, but is very very street smart and actually can be wise?? Has done research on his own about stuff he is interested about )

Mentors. Teaching them to do bad things? To do good things?

Bad influence and good influence. Self-explaining.

#ht:intro #death tw #blood tw #murder tw

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radiojamming · 6 years ago

Note

Cody in the rdr2 world being a gremlin

i’ve been nesting on this one since i couldn’t figure out if cody would be in the law or an outlaw. now i know, and i also thing she would be a glorious thing to behold in the rdr2 universe.

also, cameo of a friend!!!

- - -

Arthur looks at the paper, at the faint line of Valentine street dust collecting in the crease, right down the middle of the girl’s face. Girl is probably not the right word. She’s a woman, around thirty-two by the bounty’s estimate, but she’s wide-eyed and grinning like a child in the photograph. It looks like a candid shot, as though someone caught her mid-boast.

The deputy clears his throat, and Arthur can hear him shifting his weight on the floorboards. “That’s, uh… Well, I don’t know if you’ve heard of her.”

“Can’t say I have,” Arthur says.

“Miss Oakley. She’s been somethin’ worse than a terror around here.”

Arthur hums in acknowledgement, but his eyes fix on disturbing the peace. Of course, there are charges for larceny, cattle rustling, train robbery, and attempted murder; but if Arthur knows anything about the life of an outlaw, disturbing the peace can have all sorts of interesting connotations. He’s earned that high honor quite a few times in his life.

The deputy goes on, “Came through here about, oh, five weeks ago or so. Feller at the saloon said she drank through a whole bottle of damn near embalming fluid, stole two bottles of prize whiskey, drank one while walkin’ down the street, stole some gentleman’s horse, and took off westerly ways beltin’ out somethin’ that’d make the dogs howl.”

“That all?” Arthur says jokingly.

The deputy doesn’t seem to think it’s all that funny. Arthur turns to look at him, only to find a morose expression twisting his face. “I’m afraid it ain’t.”

- - -

“Now sir, I know you said you were a gentleman, and I am completely prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt. But, well–” There’s a decisive click of a revolver being cocked. “What you said ain’t so gentlemanly.”

The man on the ground whimpers like a scolded dog, trying in vain to scoot back while tied up tighter than a caterpillar in a cocoon. He only gets as far as the back wall of the cabin, and to his right side is the massive bear of man that’s been accompanying his captor. A heavy hand settles on top of the gentleman’s head, suddenly twisting it to face the revolver.

“I wouldn’t move if I were you,” says her friend, his voice like stone scraping stone. “If she misses, you’re gonna be in a world of hurt.”

“I didn’t do anything,” the man pleads. His voice wheedles out of him like some backwater farmer playing a reed. “All I says to ya was–”

“Oh, please do repeat what you so kindly said!”

He pauses, swallows hard, and feels sweat snaking down his back. “Th-that I wondered if–”

“Go on.”

“If you was red down th–”

- - -

Arthur finds bits of the poor bastard’s brain on the back wall of a cabin, but the campfire outside’s gone cold, and the bootprints circle around like Miss Oakley was trying to construct a maze, doing sprints in every direction. He curses, gets back on the horse, and tries again.

- - -

“I want it.”

“No.”

“No, wait, I need it.”

“You need food, water, shelter, and half a brain. I think you’re missin’ one of those.”

“Ye of little faith!”

A sigh. “I think I’m the only thing keepin’ you intact.”

“Ain’t so. I was doin’ alright before you came along.”

Another sigh. He’s going to wheeze himself to death, but he doesn’t deign a reply except for a more emphatic, “No.”

“Says you.”

A pause.

A longer pause. Her horse isn’t moving.

“Stop looking at it.”

“I’m gonna go get it.”

“Cody! Jesus Christ, get back here!”

- - -

The general store owner in Strawberry whistles through his teeth and stares at the ceiling in thought. “Yeah, yeah I think I might’ve seen her. Nice gal, really pretty, got a baby raccoon with her.”

Arthur frowns. “A what?”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, I can’t say I ain’t seen weirder things, but that was definitely a baby raccoon. Named it somesuch, uh–”

He pinches the spot between his brows. “But you did see her.”

“Oh, sure! Came in here, what, about three days ago? With a big, tall feller. Head nearly touched the ceilin’.”

“They take anything?”

At this, the owner gets a smile like a proud entrepreneur, ready to extol the virtues of his ventures. “Not a bit! Paid for it all right fair and square. Lady with the raccoon said they were spendin’ a windfall of theirs.”

He thinks of the corpse in the cabin, blown to kingdom come by a woman who is coming across more like a Heartlands twister than a human being. “Thanks, sir,” he says as he puts his hat back on.

“Wait! You gonna buy anything ‘fore ya go? Fair’s fair!”

Arthur grumbles and digs around in his pocket for change.

- - -

“Oh, I got a son in Valentine! Took him on and made him mine! Big ol’ eyes and a nice ringed tail! Eats outta the mayor’s garbage pail!”

“I don’t think that’s how the song goes.”

They’re riding up through the Grizzlies now, the horses huffing and pressing on through the snow. Inside Cody’s satchel, Jean-Jacques happily gnaws on an oatcake. In a moment, he sticks his tiny paw out of a fold in the satchel until she hands him another cake and coos at him like he’s a newborn baby.

Her friend sighs, adjusting his hat on his head and minding the dark clouds forming on the ridges above. “That’s a damn raccoon. Ain’t a pet.”

“You’re right, ‘cause he’s our son.”

“Your son– No. No, I’m not even gonna talk about this with you.”

They ride on, minding the twists and turns in the path, while the clouds get heavier and bluer with an oncoming storm. Finally, Cody grunts and hands Jean-Jacques the last of the oatcakes before drawing part of her duster up over the satchel to protect him. “Probably should make camp, huh?”

“Find a cabin, more like it. We’d wake up in four feet of snow.”

“That bad?”

He nods.

“Ugh, fine. Better for Jean-Jacques, anyway.”

He rolls his eyes. “And us, by the way. I know we’re inconsequential.”

- - -

The snowstorm has nearly cleared every single track that Arthur’s been following. Pursuing them this high into the mountains while fully aware the weather was due to turn bad wasn’t the brightest idea, but a bounty’s a bounty. The wind kicks up plumes of snow, shrieks through the pass, and chills him right through the heaviest coat he owns. It’s like Colter all over again, and Arthur’s determined to kick himself as soon as he gets somewhere warm enough to thaw his legs out.

The scent of woodsmoke draws his attention, and he turns his horse towards it. He can’t rely on sight at this point, with the snow coming down as a solid white curtain, blanketing his vision. “Easy, girl,” he tells his horse, running his hand down her neck. “Not much further.”

It turns out he’s right, as the cabin comes into view, jutting out of the mountainside like it’s as natural as the trees around it. There’s a small stable built off its side, currently occupied by an enormous draft horse the color of a new penny, and a sleeker, darker Arabian. There’s just room enough to hitch his own horse, and he hopes whoever the occupants are of the cabin, they won’t mind the liberty he’s just taken.

Once she’s secure, he comes back around and stomps through the snow until he reaches the front door. Hesitation would only make him more cold and miserable, so he knocks twice. Waits. Waits.

The door opens, and there stands Miss Cody Oakley, Terror of Valentine, mother of raccoons.

She grins like he’s just given her the greatest gift in the world.

“Well,” she says, hands on her hips. Her auburn hair is in a braid running over her shoulder. “Was wonderin’ when you were gonna catch up.”

- - -

He’s staying the night with two hardened criminals.

That statement shouldn’t mean anything in his life. He lives at a camp with hardened criminals nearly every day on the calendar. He’s a hardened criminal.

But these two are in another, comparatively stranger league. That is to say, they’d fit in so well with the Van der Lindes that Arthur’s surprised that Dutch hasn’t snapped them up yet. Her friend is an ox of a man, apparently happy to sit in perfect silence and eerie stillness next to the fire that they’ve built up in the crumbling hearth. His eyes, however, stay locked on Arthur like a wolf sighting prey. As relaxed as he seems on the surface, Arthur gets the idea that if he wanted to, he could spring up and tackle Arthur in a second.

Cody, on the other hand, is all movement. She’s a flurry of copper-colored skirts, dancing from one end of the cabin to the other, pouring coffee into tin mugs, setting out a plate of biscuits, and then twirling over to where a tiny, tiny raccoon is curled up in a satchel on a chair, happily snoozing in the warmth. She leaves it another biscuit, next to its head like she’s a spirit of animal generosity. Then, she’s off dancing again.

“You get used to it,” her friend says, just as she presses a mug of coffee into his hands, kisses him on his scarred brow, and shimmies her way over to Arthur.

“Thanks, ma’am,” he hears himself saying to his bounty target.

“Of course, darlin’! Ain’t nothin’ but hospitality here!”

“Occasionally murder,” adds her friend.

She gapes at him like he’s said the most scandalous thing she’s ever heard. “No! Not to this gentleman! He’s been nothin’ but polite since we met him!”

“An hour ago.”

“Perfect amount of time to create and enforce an acquaintance. Mr. Arthur, sir, do you take sugar in your coffee?”

He blinks, then shakes his head, feeling a smile come to him faster than he can control. “No, ma’am. Thank you.”

“So sweet!” she exclaims, and then puts her hands on her hips and directs a pointed glare at her partner. “You could stand to learn from him, sir.”

“Duly noted,” he rasps.

- - -

Arthur leaves the next morning when the exact amount of the bounty in his satchel, happily provided by Miss Oakley and her moose of a counterpart, who just introduces himself as the Soldier. Arthur’s full of oatmeal, warm biscuits, and coffee, with a tin of oatcakes for himself and his horse. Cody sends him on his way with a kiss to the cheek, which fails to rouse the Soldier at all.

“Come hunt us any time,” she says, holding both of Arthur’s hands in her own. She’s got the callouses of a gunslinger, and he can’t ignore the powerful grip she has. This woman could choke the life out of him if she wanted to. Instead, she smiles, just as bright as the sunlight bouncing off the fresh snow. “We love the company!”

“You stickin’ around?” he asks.

She giggles. The scourge of New Hanover giggles like a schoolgirl. “God, no!” she exclaims. “I like my neck unbroken, thanks. Nah, you’ll find us.”

Another quick kiss, this time to the end of his nose. Then, Cody’s sashaying away through the snow, pausing only to draw her raccoon son out of his satchel enough to make him wave one of his tiny paws in a bon voyage gesture. Behind her, the Soldier rolls his eyes so far back in his head that he can probably see his own brain. After that though, he gives Arthur a short, curt wave, then puts an arm around Cody’s waist and kisses the top of her head before leading her back inside.

Arthur’s not sure what to make of it. He’s fairly certain that what he’s just experienced was a very vivid and long fever dream.

Even so, he heads back to Valentine, fully prepared to explain that Miss Cody Oakley successfully escaped justice. Too bad, condolences, we’ll do better next time, and all that.

And he smiles the entire way back.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #oc: cody oakley #i lowkey ship them tho?#and yes! cameo!#who i also ship her with more!#prompt fill

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millenniumrobin · 6 years ago

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Kiss It Better

TItle: Kiss It Better Author: millenniumrobin AO3 story link

Summary: Dick Grayson is rotting in prison. Sitting in his cell for more than a year, there's only one person he'll give a jailhouse interview to about the night that changed his life, and the lives of those around him, forever.

Batfam Week Day 1: Vacation or Separation

“Grayson.” The sound of his name stabbed Dick’s ears like a knife. He didn’t want to open his eyes. Not yet. Not now. Maybe everything from the past year had been one long, insane nightmare and if he just kept his eyes closed, just this once, he’d actually wake up and it would all be over.

“Hey. Grayson. Wake up. If she finds you sleeping when she gets here, she’s not going to be happy.” Harsh white light pierced his vision as Dick cracked his eyelids open. He found himself looking up at the bottom of a bunk bed, flat steel bars staring back at him like a cell door. Dick could feel those same bars pressing into his back through a too-thin mattress as he pushed himself to sitting. Brushing a calloused hand over his face, Dick felt rough stubble that had sprouted.

He thought about shaving. But what was the point, really?

That same hand moved upward, running through ragged hair now long enough to be pulled back into a ponytail. It had been weeks since he had bothered to look into the small mirror that occupied a fraction of the far wall. He knew what he would find looking back at him: the shell of a man who was once one of the most feared crime fighters in Gotham, and one of the most beloved heroes in the world.

“What’s she gonna do, Jack?” Dick finally answered the voice that had forced him to rise. “Kill me?” His hollow chuckle wasn’t met in turn. The only other man in the room didn’t move from his spot. Wearing a faded orange jumpsuit and sitting on a makeshift stool by the bars that marked the front of their existence, he kept his eyes down the hallway.

“Don’t joke, Dick. She probably would. Especially today. She wants you to smile all pretty for the cameras and doesn’t want you to ruin her big scoop.”

“Born in a circus, die in a circus.” The old Dick Grayson would have been shocked by his statement and the coldness with which it was delivered. But not now. Not after the past year. “She’s an old friend, Jack. Which is why I’m talking to her, and only her.”

Dick had only gotten a few visitors once he’d been incarcerated. Alfred had visited a few times, but then he had Bruce to deal with. Tim couldn’t bring himself to come say hello. Jason sent an audio tape of him slow clapping for three minutes. That had been nice to listen to for a few hours, and then Dick had thrown it away.

Bruce hadn’t said a word to him since everything happened, but then again, he had his own problems to worry about now. Dick didn’t know all the specifics, news was sketchy on this side of bars and concrete and steel, but every new prisoner who came in and recognized him loved to extoll the issues the great Bruce Wayne, the Batman, was now facing at the hands of the law.

Then there were the Gordons. Dick hadn’t heard from the Commissioner at all. In fact, the last thing he’d seen from Barbara’s father were eyes full of pain, sadness, and anger. As for Barbara… well, Dick had no idea what she thought about what he’d done. But maybe he’d be able to ask her soon. Maybe…

“Can I ask you something?” The question pulled Dick from his thoughts yet again. Worry was creased all over his cellmate’s face as he continued looking out over common area. Dick sighed loudly as he sat back on his bunk, fingers rubbing absentmindedly as they always did over his most prized possession, a strip of photo paper.

“You’re going to be fine, Jack. You worry too much.” His cellmate was Jack Reynald, a former high-rolling investment banker who had Ponzi-schemed his way to hundreds of millions and left a few thousand people very, very angry with him. They were together because Jack was the only inmate who didn’t want to kill him. Dick also wondered if the reverse was true.

“No, no, it’s not that.” The man swallowed hard and looked back over at Dick. “I was never a good guy. Even early on in my career, I found little ways of skimming some off the top here and there. But you… you weren’t just good, you were one of the best.” Jack sighed as he sat back against the wall, the back of his balding head pressing against the rough concrete block. “If even the great Dick Grayson, the great Nightwing, could fall, what hope is there for the rest of us?”

Hearing his old alias struck Dick like a shock from a guard’s stun baton. It had been a while since it had been uttered, at least without an extreme amount of venom behind it. The other inmates had tossed it around a lot when he’d first arrived, mostly to taunt and deride, but even that had died off after a while. Dick felt the edge of the photo paper bury into a familiar crease along his thumb and sighed.

“Did I ever tell you why I did it, Jack?” Dick paused. “Why I killed him?” The Commissioner’s eyes flashed through his mind again, but he brushed the feeling away. Jack’s eyes were wide, and he shook his head slowly.

Dick smiled slowly and allowed his eyes to become unfocused. The cool grey concrete began to remind him of where it all happened over a year ago. Where this nightmare began. “It was the happiest night of my life...”

*****

“Grayson!” His shouted name danced after him in the mid-winter air, bouncing around the snowflakes and twisting on the breeze. Bright lights swirled all around him, the Gotham night a snow globe of wonder and sparkle. It was, for all its faults and dark underbellies, why Dick Grayson loved this city.

“Grayson, slow down!” But the real reason he loved this city came bounding after him in the sidewalk slush, red hair trailing behind her like a wispy cloud caught in the setting summer sun. Her voice was full of laughter and annoyance, her cheeks nearly as red as her hair with a smile plastered to her face.

“You haven’t been able to keep up with me all night, Babs. Why would I slow down now?” A swift punch to the arm was the only reply he got. He rubbed it playfully and half-grimaced. “Ow.”

“Oh, that didn’t hurt.” Laughter filled her voice again as she held an oversized teddy bear in a Superman t-shirt. It was the prize he had won her through his exploits that evening. “You want me to kiss it to make it feel better?”

“Works for me.” A mischievous smirk crossed his own face as he wrapped a hand around her waist and pulled her close. Whatever the temperature was outside didn’t matter, because when their lips met, there was only fire between them. It was a long few seconds before Dick realized they were squishing the newly won bear between them.

“All better?” There was a teasing glint in Barbara’s green eyes, and Dick responded in kind.

“I don’t know… it still hurts. I think more kisses are in order to make me really feel better.” And so they did again. And again. And again. It was a perfect evening of laughter, innuendo, and physical affection. A tavern with the bear propped up on the bar while they got a drink, a photo booth where more kisses and funny faces were shared, and endless sidewalks where they held each other close.

It was the perfect night, and Dick knew that it was finally time for that little circle of metal, hiding in his pocket for weeks waiting for a moment like this, to appear. They sat on a bench overlooking the park in the middle of Gotham, the city lights twinkling around the light snow that continued to fall.

“I love you, Barbara Gordon.” The words came easy to him, uttered countless times before. But there was something different to them this time, a finality that came with them. He knew what he wanted in life, and it was sitting right here on this bench with him. She offered back that easy smile of hers, planting a kiss playfully on his cheek.

“I love you too, Dick Grayson.” This was it. This was the moment he had waited for, planned for, hoped for since he had first laid eyes on her in grade school.

Dick began to slide off the bench, one knee dropping toward the slush-caked sidewalk. But as he turned his body to face Barbara, movement in his periphery caught his eye. Mirroring his motion, the figure moved closer, turning to face the two of them.

Time slowed to a grind. It was the years of training and adrenaline that allowed him to see everything clearly, but Dick remained frozen to the ground like the icicles around them. Why now? Why tonight? Why at this moment must the scourge of Gotham once again rear its ugly head?

And then he saw the gun. Highlighted, glimmering in the light from so many concrete and steel towers, the barrel a hole as black as anything he’d ever seen before. This was no robbery, something in his gut told him that. It was death.

A leather-gloved finger tightened on the trigger, and Dick saw the flash of the muzzle. He didn’t hear the shot. Everything had gone silent. A force stronger than anything he’d ever felt, and he’d been thrown into a wall by Bane before, slammed him back against the ground, away from the perpetrator.

He looked down to see where he had been shot. There was no blood, no gaping wound. The only red he saw was Barbara’s hair in front of him, splayed out on the ground.

If he screamed her name, he didn’t hear it. The gunman was already retreating away from them as Dick scrambled to scoop Barbara into his arms, pressing his fingers to her throat, feeling for a pulse. There was one, but it was weak, like a feather bouncing along on a breeze.

And then in an instant, that deafening silence was shattered by the sound of laughter. Low at first, then growing higher and higher to a frenzied shriek. Even if Dick hadn’t caught a glimpse of his face from the light of a street lamp, he would have known that laugh anywhere. It had haunted his dreams as a child, and Dick knew it would now haunt him for the rest of his life.

“Dick…” His name, barely heard in a breathy whisper, drew him back to the sidewalk. Barbara’s green eyes were staring past him, snowflakes she made no move to brush away gently nestling on her face. Her red hair spilled over his arm, the ends draping onto the sidewalk where it mixed with her blood.

Dick reached down, pulling off one of her mittens to take her hand in his. Even though he hadn’t been wearing gloves, her skin was still colder than his. Tears streaking down his cheeks, Dick cradled Barbara in his arms as he leaned down and kissed her face softly. “Everything is going to be alright Babs. I promise. Everything will be alright.” But it wasn’t going to be alright. He knew that, and so did she.

“It’s not your fault, Dick. You didn’t know…” she trailed off again, coughing. He kissed her face again, willing his lips to bring warmth back to her body. “Kiss it better, Dick? Please?”

Onlookers were racing around now, some with their cell phones to their ears, other taking video. The bright twinkling of city lights was starting to be replaced with red and blue flashing ones. But even with the cacophony of noise around him, Dick could only hear the whispered words of the bleeding love of his life.

“Stay with me, Dick… stay with me until I fall asleep.”

“Barbara, no. Stay awake. Stay here. I’m right here.”

“Stay with me until I fall asleep. Stay with me…” The faint steam that had been rising from Barbara’s lips froze, and her eyes began to shut. All noise and chaos around Dick seemed to stop. He knew his mouth was open, knew he was screaming something because his throat was burning and raw, but no sound reached his ears. He didn’t know how long he sat there screaming, begging for her to come back to him. It wasn’t until two police officers began dragging him away that he was lifted off the sidewalk, left only with the image of Barbara Gordon lying dead on the sidewalk, an oversized teddy bear in a Superman t-shirt still sitting on the bench behind her.

*****

“Grayson, you have a visitor.” A burly prison guard stood by the cell door, layer upon layer of muscle stretching his uniform. Like most of the other guards here, he treated Dick relatively well because the former vigilante was polite. And because, secretly, they appreciated what he had done on the outside and didn’t like how he’d been treated since the murder.

“Thanks Charles. Send her in.”

“You’ve got an hour. The Warden won’t tolerate lateness today.” Dick offered him a slight nod.

“I’ll see you then, Charles.” Jack moved from his perch by the door as a slender woman with ebony hair moved into the cell. She wore a crisp pantsuit and held a small notebook between her fingers. When she looked at him, surprise and then a hint of pity fluttered through her purple eyes.

“Grayson,” she said, pulling over the extra chair that had been set out for her. “You look terrible.”

That got him to laugh. Probably his first real laugh in the past year. She wasn’t wrong, of course. She never was.

“Why thank you, Lois. It’s good to see you too.” Lois Lane, pride of the Daily Planet, multiple Pulitzer Prize winning journalist, and probably one of the smartest women left on the planet smiled up at him as he settled back to his spot on his bunk.

“How are they treating you here?” Dick chuckled to himself. The food was lousy, he got a single hour outside his cell a day, and he lived under constant threat of being shanked. He shrugged.

“The guards are fine. The Warden wants to impress the Commissioner, so he comes down hard on me. But I’m still alive, so that counts for something.” Lois offered him a thin smile and reached into the purse she had brought with her. When her hand emerged, it held a small recording device. She looked pointedly at him, raising an eyebrow. Dick nodded in agreement. Though he knew Lois would never misquote him, intentionally or not, he knew the recording wasn’t for the story. It was for the people on the outside to hear his voice one last time.

“I was surprised when you agreed to my request for an interview, Dick. You’d shot me down the last ten times I’d asked.” Dick could only offer a half-hearted shrug and a sheepish smile that was nowhere in the realm of the one he used to flash all the time. “The Commissioner was kind enough to give me an hour, so I don’t want waste any time. I reviewed the case file and your statement from the night of Barbara’s murder, so I won’t ask you about that. What’s less clear to me is what followed. Can you tell me what happened after you arrived at the police headquarters?”

Dick’s mind flashed back to that night again. Police headquarters, Commissioner Gordon… the Joker. Yes, it was that night where he had started down this path, towards this inevitable conclusion.

“After the EMTs got there, two officers who recognized me took me back to HQ…”

*****

Dick Grayson had never known before what it was like to be alone in a crowded room. Sure, there had been times when he had just been lost in his thoughts before, but not like this. No spacing off at a Gotham Academy dance or Wayne Foundation gala could compare to how alone he felt right now. The headquarters was in a panic. Commissioner Gordon’s daughter had just been gunned down by the Joker. But as officers and detectives raced past him, Dick could do nothing but stare at his hands.

Her blood was dry now. No longer bright crimson, his hands were now caked with a dark burgundy, split by thin white lines where his clenched fists had broken it up. He wasn’t sure what felt heavier: his heart, or the engagement ring he’d never get to use that still sat in his pocket.

“Grayson!” Dick jerked his head up, seeing the rotund form of Harvey Bullock standing over him. Even as lost inside his own head as he was, Dick was shocked he hadn’t smelled the detective first. The large man still chomped on a toothpick as he thrust his thumb back over his shoulder. “The Commissioner wants to see you.”

He forced his legs to work. He had to. Every step he took toward the door with the gold lettering on it, the one he was so familiar at sneaking into through the window, seemed to take an eternity. But with each step rage also bubbled up within him. Rage at himself for not stopping the Joker. Rage at Barbara for pushing him out of the way. Rage at Bruce for allowing the Joker to live as long as he had.

But all that anger melted away as he opened the door and saw Commissioner Jim Gordon sitting behind his desk, a picture frame held in shaking hands. Dick knew which one it was. He had seen it dozens of times before. It showed the Commissioner, then a Captain, and Barbara no more than nine. They were sitting on a park bench, very close to where she had been murdered tonight. It was from their first weekend in Gotham City, when Barbara had wanted more than anything to go back to Chicago. Her father had taken her to get ice cream, to a carnival, and gotten her a balloon. That solitary blue balloon hung in the background behind the two of them, a father and daughter smiling and laughing together in a picture taken by a passing tourist. It was the moment the Commissioner had convinced Barbara to stay. Dick wondered if he hadn’t done such a good job, if his daughter would still be alive tonight.

When Jim looked up at him, his eyes were redder than Dick had ever seen them. Redder than when his wife left him. Redder than after any other night of the countless horrors Gotham had to offer. His hair, for years having kept its original auburn color with only a hint of distinguishing gray at the temples, was now almost completely white. In a matter of hours, the Gotham City Police Commissioner had aged decades. Dick felt as if his heart had gone through the same transformation process.

“Jim… Commissioner… I’m so sorry. I didn’t see him. I couldn’t stop him. And she pushed me out of the way and… I couldn’t save her sir. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I tried. I tried to save her but I couldn’t. I wanted to, sir. If I could be dead and she could be standing here sir I would do it in a heartbeat.” Dick was rambling and the tears started to flow. He couldn’t help himself. Words, barely coherent, continued in a steady stream from his lips. He wanted his words to take away the Commissioner’s hurt, to bring his daughter back, to make this whole night a very bad nightmare.

And then two arms pulled him into a hug. Dick hadn’t even noticed Jim getting up from his desk. The two men embraced, their bodies shaking, sobs wracking them both as they used each other for support. And then the words started to flow again. Dick recounting every single detail of that night. Every place they had been, the times they had been there, what they had done. He told him about the ring. He needed to get everything out before he forgot a single moment. Even, as painful as it was, the Joker killing Barbara.

By the end of it, they were sitting in chairs facing each other. The Commissioner hadn’t spoken since he had started, but Dick knew that he had heard and absorbed everything. When the words finally exhausted themselves, they both sat in silence for a few minutes, only the sounds of sirens throughout the city breaking the tranquility.

“How are you doing, son?” The question caught Dick off guard. But in an instant, he knew the answer. The rage was back. The pain and sadness had gotten their turn. Now he was filled again with pure, unadulterated rage.

“I’ll be fine.” The words were clipped. Dick knew what he wanted to do. No, not just what he wanted to do. What he had to do. “Give me a task force, Commissioner. Give me a squad, anything. The Joker won’t see the morning.”

The Commissioner physically recoiled in his chair. He studied Dick for a long moment before getting up and walking toward the window. “That’s not how we do things, son. And that’s not how he raised you to do things.”

“The hell with how he does things!” Dick was on his feet now, voice rising to meet his stature. “How he does things got Barbara killed. That monster should have been dead after he killed Jason. Now he’s taken your daughter.” Dick paused, staring at the Commissioner’s stoic back. “I’m not going to let him kill anyone else.” Turning on his heel, Dick made for the door.

“Sit. Down.” The words stopped him in his tracks. When he turned, Dick saw Batman looming in a dark corner. There was no open window. The Big Black Bat must have been standing in the room the entire time, but Dick had just been too distracted to notice. The Commissioner looked over at Bruce Wayne and nodded solemnly.

“That’s not how we do things, son. Not even when it’s Barbara he killed. Especially then.” Dick opened his mouth to protest when there was a frantic knock on the Commissioner’s door and it swung open, an out-of-breath officer bursting through.

“Commissioner, we got him!”

“Who?”

“The Joker. He just walked in the front door and turned himself in.” The officer struggled to catch his breath. “He says he wants to confess, sir. He says he wants to confess for the murder of Barbara Gordon.”

*****

“I should have known something was up. I should have known the game he was playing. But like Batman standing in the Commissioner’s office, I was too blind to see it. I was too distracted to see the big picture. That’s what…” He sighed, rubbing his fingers over the strip of paper again. “That’s what she was always so good at.”

Lois nodded slowly, looking down briefly at her recorder and her watch. She had barely asked him any questions, just let him talk. Dick appreciated that. It was the first time he was able to tell his story, he feelings. Maybe it would help the others still on the outside. Maybe people would see he wasn’t the monster the District Attorney and the Commissioner painted him to be.

“What happened after that night? Before his trial a month later.”

“The Joker confessed to the murder but plead not guilty in court. Said he wanted his day in court. We should have seen it, all should have seen what was coming. Any trial of his would be a circus, and it was. How many news outlets were there? Fifty? Seventy? All with their cameras and their shouted questions at Bruce. At the Commissioner. At me. People were starting to dig, and that’s what he wanted. He wanted the groundwork there so when he took the stand, the pieces would fall into place.”

Dick looked down at his hands again, at that strip of paper held so tightly in one of them. “I should have seen it. But I didn’t. Nobody did. I don’t think anybody could have seen what was coming but Barbara.”

*****

“The defense calls John Doe, alias The Joker, to the stand.” Dick didn’t look up to the court spectacle in front of him. He knew what he would see. It was the same thing he had seen every day at this trial. The Joker, green hair mussed, clad in an orange jumpsuit that was too big for him, arms and legs shackled and a platoon of guards surrounding him.

He also didn’t have to turn around to see what was behind him. He could practically feel the eyes of dozens of journalists and the lenses of their cameras pointed squarely at his back. At Bruce’s back. At the Commissioner’s back. The three of them were sitting directly behind the prosecutor’s table. It was as close as they could be to the action without being in the action.

The Joker sat in the witness box with that same sick smile plastered across his face. This was all a joke to him, a theater of the absurd. And now he was center stage.

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?” The Joker cocked an eyebrow at the bailiff.

“Not sure what the big guy has to do with this, but for the first time in my life, yes, I do.” The Joker sat as his defense council, some young public defender barely out of law school, walked toward him.

“Only one question, your honor. Mr. Doe, are you insane?” The Joker broke out into a low laugh at his attorney’s question.

“Some would like to think I’m not because then they wouldn’t have to try and rehabilitate me. Others think I am because it makes it easier for them to process my actions. But in my world, I’m the sanest one there is.” The leering voice, the upward curve at the corner of his mouth made Dick’s stomach turn. He clenched his fists between his knees.

The Joker’s attorney sat back down as the D.A. rose to his feet. “Mr. Doe, had you taken leave of your senses the night you shot and killed Barbara Gordon?” Another laugh followed.

“No, Mr. District Attorney. I knew very much what was going on that night. Two lovebirds in the Gotham winter air. It made me sick.” The Joker looked over at Dick, locking eyes with him. That old familiar rage came back again, and he struggled to suppress it.

“So you followed Mr. Grayson and Ms. Gordon with the intention of killing her, is that correct?”

A harsher braying laugh followed. “No, Mr. District Attorney, I didn’t mean to kill Barbara Gordon. I was aiming for her partner.” Dick’s back snapped to attention, rage swelling in his chest. He heard the click-click-click of a dozen camera shutters behind him, but he didn’t care at the moment. The fog of the past month was lifting, the madman’s plan crystalizing in his mind like the memories of that night.

The District Attorney turned and looked at him. “You were in the park that night to kill Mr. Grayson? Why?” The Joker’s smile grew, malice filling his eyes and words.

“Because I wanted to hurt someone very close to him. I wanted to hurt someone very close to me.” Dick felt Bruce stiffen beside him but did not look over. A glint of light off of metal caught his eye. Ahead of him, just over the bar separating the gallery from the tables and judge’s bench, stood a guard. And his holstered gun was calling to Dick.

“You see, the last time I tried to get the attention of Mr. Grayson’s friend, I didn’t get the reaction I was hoping for. I thought by going for the original, I might finally get the attention I wanted.” Something snapped inside of Dick. Whatever had been holding back the rage, the recklessness, was gone.

His hands gripped the bar as he vaulted over it. Fingers brushed the edge of his suit pants. Bruce’s. He knew they were Bruce’s. He would have been the only one fast enough to even lay a hand on him. But his mentor wasn’t fast enough. Neither was the officer, who only managed a shout of surprise as Dick grabbed the pistol and ripped it from its holster.

The commotion in the courtroom was only white noise to him now. The camera shutters, the shouts and screams, all of it was just background noise. There was only one sound he was focused on: the Joker’s laughter. It was getting higher and faster again, just like it had that night. His only goal was to make it stop forever.

His hands raised the gun, one palm pressing against the cold metal, the other wrapping around his knuckles. The District Attorney dove out of the way and at the periphery of his vision jurors scrambled for cover. They didn’t need to move. He wasn’t going to hit them anyway.

Striding toward the jumpsuit-clad monster, Dick’s finger tightened on the trigger. He saw the muzzle flash, the barrel jump back towards him, the shell casing fly off to the side. The harsh laughter ringing in his ears hitched, a cough replacing it. A bright red spot began to appear in the middle of that orange jumpsuit. But the laugh returned, wetter and wheezier than before, but still there. Dick’s finger tightened again, again, again. His finger continued squeezing until the click-click-click he heard wasn’t from the cameras but from the pistol in his hands. The laughter was just a ragged breath now as Joker’s eyes rolled back into his head.

Then he was on the floor, four police officers on top of him, wrenching the gun from his hands and yanking his arms behind his back. The cold metal of the gun was replaced with that of handcuffs. As the officers yanked him back to his feet, he caught one last glimpse of the Joker, dead on the witness stand. That sick smile was still plastered across his face.

As he was dragged out of the courtroom, Dick turned one last time to see Bruce and the Commissioner, side by side, still standing behind the railing. The cameras and reporters were already starting to descend upon them. Neither of them seemed to notice though. The last thing Dick saw as he was hauled out the door were the Commissioner’s eyes. He hadn’t been expecting the emotions he saw in them. Not relief or gratitude. Just anger. Pain. And sadness.

The door slammed shut behind him.

*****

Lois nodded slowly as he finished, writing a quick note down on the pad in front of her. “You didn’t know about the tape.”

“No.” Dick shook his head. None of them had. The tape, which went live an hour after the Joker’s death, had been recorded the night he killed Barbara. It laid out, in exacting detail, Batman’s identity. Nightwing’s identity. And, as the Joker on the tape had realized, who Batgirl was as well.

That had been the end of Jim’s career. He had been fired the next morning, his gun and badge stripped, as he was placed under investigation for aiding and abetting vigilantes. The stock of Wayne Enterprises had plummeted as companies declined to do business with Bruce Wayne. No formal charges had been found, they couldn’t prove he was Batman. And they hadn’t found the Batcave. But the Batman hadn’t been seen in the Gotham night sky for over a year.

That tape had been the Joker’s final revenge on all of them. He had laid the trap, and they had all been too blinded by grief to realize they were walking straight into it.

“Do you regret doing it?” Dick looked at her for a long moment and smiled.

“No. I wish everything had gone down differently, but no, I don’t regret it. I think there’s someone in your life who, if he was really honest with himself, would do the same if anything ever happened to you.” That elicited a small smile from Lois. She checked her watch again and looked up at him.

“Is there anything else you want to say? Off the record, but on recording for those closest to you?” Dick leaned back against the wall. There had been so many letters that he had started and torn up. He knew that no number of apologies could make up for what he’d done, but he also figured the Joker was going to expose them at the trial anyway. At least he wasn’t alive to escape and hurt others.

He shook his head slowly.

Lois’ lips pressed together as Charles came back, knocking the cell bars with his nightstick. “Time to go, Grayson.” Dick nodded and took a deep breath, standing and facing Lois again.

“One for the road?” There were tears welling in her eyes, but she didn’t allow them to fall. When he opened his arms, she threw hers around his neck, planting a quick kiss on his cheek.

“They’re going to be there,” she whispered in his ear. “Bruce and Jim. Clark too. They promised me they’d be there.” Dick broke the embrace and offered her a smile of thanks.

“Take care of yourself, Lois.” He felt the much firmer grasp of Charles as he let himself be led out of the cell.

“You too, kid. Good luck.” Dick smiled.

“I won’t need luck. I’ve got my girl waiting for me.”

As Charles led him down the hallways of the prison, past a sign that said “Execution Chamber”, Dick rubbed his fingers over that strip of paper again. The pictures on that strip were worn from age and being held for so long, but the images were still clear enough. And from that strip, as she had every night, Barbara Gordon smiled back at him, laughing as he held her close or kissed her cheek. Soon he wouldn’t have to just stare at a picture. He knew that in just a few minutes, he would get to see her again.

The smile on his face grew as he was led through the door and into a blinding white light.

#batfamweek2018 #bfw2018 #fan fiction #dick grayson #barbara gordon #dickbabs #joker #fan fic #angst #kiss it better #Lois Lane

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writtenatlargetellingstories · 7 years ago

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The following is something I wrote all the way back in 2014 on an old blog. It was also published on GonzoToday.com. Enjoy!

The Big Apple, Or: Small Town Kid Meets The City

Portland’s unofficial slogan might be “Keep Portland Weird,” but for New York it is just a mutual understanding among the locals. When you have a population of over 8,000,000 people, Weird is naturally going to be a demographic the politicians will have to cater to along with the Rich and the Poor and 1,000 shades in between.

It doesn’t matter where you call home, if it isn’t New York City, the natives are going to think you’re from some second-rate BFE. Tell them you’re from the South and all of a sudden you’re an inbred yokel who’s confused by flashing lights and that food can be cooked without lard. And probably worst of all, they suspect you voted for a Bush or a Romney.

Besides flashing lights, the City has a lot to offer. It’s Sodom and Gomorrah and Disney World rolled into one, just with more corporate sponsors. If you’re an average Joe Schmo, be sure to see the sights. If you’re wealthy and haven’t fulfilled your dream of finally shitting gold, be sure to check out Serendipity 3 and order the $1,000 Golden Opulence Sundae. You’ll be dropping 23-carat nuggets in no time. Just be sure to give them a two-day heads up and they will even let you keep the Baccarat Harcourt crystal goblet that the sundae came in. So bring the kids and the missus. A life’s savings wouldn’t hurt, either.***

When apartment hunting, you can skip Manhattan. The likelihood of you and yours being able to find and afford anything there with your entry-level jobs isn’t impossible, only mathematically improbable. For the price of a studio in Manhattan with a note stating that you can fit a bed and a dresser but no mention of a bathroom or kitchen, you can get a two bedroom in Queens.

Tourists might be amazed at all of the beautiful, fit youths walking around the City and susceptible to a rumor going around that this is because affordable apartments also require a gym membership. This isn’t because the landlords only want healthy, good looking tenants, but rather because they don’t have bathrooms or showers.

Queens isn’t so bad and if you work in the City all you have to do is hop on what is known to the locals as the Orient Express, the 7 train, and your half-hour commute will leave you 45 minutes late to work. The train also runs local stops if you wanted to be delayed even longer before getting to work. The MTA personnel will reassure you that any and all delays are due to a sick passenger or train traffic ahead of us or both at the same time. People who buy ad space in the trains can sleep easy at night knowing that hundreds of people are familiarizing themselves with the advertisements and pondering if they have the correct career or bra size. At least half of them work, I applied to be a teaching fellow six months after moving here.

Queens, once one of the largest strongholds for the largest Irish communities in the City, has now been transformed into a confused schizophrenic who still believes it is still Irish deep down inside but is actually split between its own Hispanic and Asian personalities on any given day. Young residents of certain communities in Queens are proudly claiming their area is being gentrified, a term thrown around by young Americans hoping that their surroundings will eventually become white-washed and the new hot-spot for 20-something year old hipsters with brewpubs and gourmet BBQ restaurants and a price hike in our rent.

***

Nothing is more welcoming to a new city than having your new New York City apartment burgled while you are at work. If you don’t have time for the 3-hour waiting period for the cops to show up, take it from me, tell the poor saps at 911 that your handgun was stolen. Your wait-time will be cut down to a bare-bone 10 minutes with police lights blazing and not one but two patrol cars if not more depending on how busy the cops are that night.

The downside to getting this speedy police service is that guns are basically outlawed here. Just to have a handgun in your house you need a slew of permits and bureaucratic paperwork. Forget about purchasing one in the City legally. The cops will be the first to tell you that they often go to New Jersey, where gun laws are more relaxed, to pick up their own service weapons since even they can’t stand to deal with the New York laws.

After being cuffed and uncuffed and told we were just going for a ride to the precinct to speak to the captain, just to have a little talk about the details of the robbery, and to report the handgun and other items as stolen, I ended up being booked for a misdemeanor. I was lucky that there weren’t any bullets, I was told. That’s a felony charge. The police locked me up in a holding cell next to a sign strategically placed by the cell stating that if you have a gun that you can drop it off no questions asked and receive $25 for the deposit. Just some light reading after you have been locked up.

Various officers came in and talked to me off and on between reports and phone calls. One came over and leaned on the bars to the cell and started questioning me about the make and model, what kind of wood the handle had, and if I was satisfied with the gun itself. He was thinking of getting one himself but wasn’t sure if he was going to go with that model or a Colt. He was a fan of Westerns and dreamed of being a cowboy. He said: “You’ll be alright. They’ll go easy on you, I bet. Just remember you aren’t in Kansas anymore, as they say.”

At 3:40 am, two officers came in with a fat white man in his mid-thirties and a black male prostitute in drag. They had been caught in the act in his car with what they believed was cocaine. It was then decided that I would be more comfortable at central booking and the same two cops that just strolled in with the fat man and prostitute cuffed me, again, cutting off circulation to my fingers. The marks and bruises would last a week, marks of initiation into an age-old brotherhood of criminals and wrongdoers and those just in the wrong place at the right time.

First, you are put in one cell. Then another. Then it is time for your mug shot and checking in. There’s no way to take a good mug shot. You’ll always end up looking like a crazed Nick Nolte no matter what your race or gender is.

After all this, you are then placed in yet another cell. Here I got to meet the people I’d be spending the day with. From this cell we had a good view of the TV. The news was running a story about how Ariel Castro had committed suicide by hanging himself with bedsheets in his own prison cell. Someone asked who the hell this cracker was and why we should give a shit. “Asshole, he’s the president of Puerto Rico. Dumb motherfucker.”

“Why they got the president locked up in the first place?”

“What the fuck I look like, huh? Some shit that reads the paper? Shee-yit.”

A lady with a clipboard came around and asked for those with jobs to make a line at the bars. “Name of company, address, and telephone number.” When it was my turn, I couldn’t remember the address or telephone number of my employers. I told the lady that and asked what this was for. “Do you have a job or not, and if so, what is their name, address, and telephone number?” It was apparent– they weren’t there for shits and giggles or kind understanding. One poor soul was supposed to start his job that very morning. The lady with the clipboard’s advice, “Well, start looking for something else, son.”

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At first, no one gave a shit about the others there until someone brought up warrants. “You got warrants?” “Oh, yeah, how many warrants you got?” And so on. This cut the tension in the air and those that spoke English (which was the majority of us except for two Chinese guys and three Mexicans). Pretty soon it was a social gathering and all were partaking in the pissing contest that were our crimes. One guy had actually pissed on a cop. He couldn’t hold it while waiting on the train and took a leak off of an above-ground station. As fate would have it, a cop was standing below him being showered upon. As fate would also have it, he had two outstanding warrants. Another was arrested because his girlfriend said he was abusing her, smacking her around at home, but, as he put it, he was going to get off since it was his word against hers… and her friend’s who also saw it. There were also two rowdy drunks with three shoes between them. The missing shoe had been tossed at a cop outside of a bar. The shoe pitcher was easily caught. According to him, it is pretty damn hard to outrun the cops with only one loafer. His friend was arrested for telling the cops to “take it easy.” For the rest of the morning they celebrated their camaraderie until they both sobered up, and we learned they weren’t friends at all and had actually never seen each other before that evening.

Probably the unluckiest person there was Jamel. Jamel had been staying at a motel somewhere as a meeting point for him and his lady. He let us know that that day he had to make multiple trips to the nearest gas station for pop and chips. A 30-minute walk in both directions and he had done this at least 4, maybe 5 times that day. Around 7 o’clock, his lady called him up to let him know that she had a friend that would be joining them for their rendezvous. Jamel, tired of making all those damn trips to the gas station and noticing he needed more chips and pop and “roll-ons” for this endeavor, decided to borrow a car that had been idling outside his room. By his report, the car had been there all day, just running. So, he borrowed it and came right back only to find that the cops were waiting for him and snatched him up even though he felt some of them understood his story and even commented that they might have done the same if they were in his shoes. There he was, stuck in holding in Queens, and his lady and her friend waiting for him at a motel somewhere probably just watching TV and eating his chips.

It was around this time that I got my joint nickname. Racially speaking, we were our own Rainbow Coalition, but I was the odd man out. The song “One of these things is not like the others” being sung by giddy Muppets comes to mind. For the rest of our time together, I was known as “White Boy” by my cell mates.

“White Boy, what you get locked up for?”

“Hey all, White Boy got busted for gun possession. Only White Boy would be arrested for gun possession while not possessing a gun because he called the cops on himself.”

“White Boy, your dad got a lawyer? You gotta sue the pigs and then you remember me and we’ll have one hell of a cookout. Yup, White Boy, we’ll live it up big time. Big time.”

We were finally moved to the final holding cells to await our meetings with our public defenders. The hallway is long and has cells on both sides facing each other. We were crammed in a cell with at least 20 other people in them, most of them laid out on the floor using their shoes as pillows. At about 6:30, they served breakfast. The meal would be the same at lunch and dinner. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for all three meals. These sandwiches were made from stale bread and the jelly of a single grape and the butter of maybe two or three peanuts. Those not hungry enough to try to eat these sandwiches used them to play a game. The game consisted of seeing who could get theirs to stick to the ceiling. This game then turned into a game that consisted of seeing whose sandwich would stick there the longest. From the looks of it, this wasn’t a game that had just been thought up by us.

These cells have a single aluminum toilet that also serves as a drinking fountain. Only one of us braved to use the thing in either function. And he decided to undress for the experience.

Bit by bit, little by little, people left us and were believed to have been set free. From the original gang, the cop-pisser-on-er was let go first. Then the shoe thrower. Though his “comrade” was left behind and was still there when I left. Towards the end it was just Jamel, the comrade, and I still there. We were joined by two more, but by now our cell was looking pretty thinned-out and conversation was getting kind of boring since we had discussed our cases through and through and we were all now experts on the law after listening to the narrations of veterans of the system. These two new guys were a release from our boredom. One had brought two cigarettes and matches that he had hidden under his testicles. No one took him up on his offer of sharing one. After a while, he decided he didn’t need to get busted smoking by a guard. The other guy came in bragging about getting busted with coke while he was getting serviced by a prostitute. He told the story over and over again, prouder of himself with each telling, happy that the others were eating it up. He looked over to me and said, “Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere.”

“Yeah, I was in the holding cell when they brought you in.”

After that, he didn’t seem to like sharing his story anymore. Hubris taken down a notch. Which has my vote as the City’s unofficial slogan.

Dr. Kurt Doonesbury November 7th, 2k14

P.S. All charges were dropped. A lack of possession set me free.

Vintage K. Doonesbury: The Big Apple #AmWriting #Story #Storytelling #Blogger The following is something I wrote all the way back in 2014 on an old blog. It was also published on…

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