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thefactsofthematter · 4 years

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Oooo can you do some Ralbert or Sprace angst?

sprace angst you shall get.... while davey was bothering jack in the theatre, brooklyn was joining the strike

sprace; 2kish; canon era; no warnings

It feels strange, walking through Manhattan.

Spot doesn't come here often. He mostly sticks to his own territory, occasionally sending a kid over if there's a message he needs to relay. It's rare that he himself ever actually crosses the bridge.

He's here on a mission, walking as fast as he can down crowded sidewalks and trying to go unnoticed. He's not sure what he's so scared of— sure, he's not supposed to be here, he's got his own turf. But who on earth is gonna tell him to leave? Not even Jack Kelly would have the balls to kick Spot out of his borough.

Speaking of Jack... an apology is owed and Spot is here to deliver it. Brooklyn should have come to this morning's strike— he was being stupid and overthinking it when he decided to pull back and not go. They should have had Manhattan's back, and Spot, at the very least, has the sense to apologize for it.

From what he’s heard so far, tons of kids got hurt and at least one was even arrested— and Spot’s heard some downright horrible things about the place Manhattan kids go when that happens. There’s a jail for kids in Brooklyn, sure, but it’s not nearly as bad as the horror stories he’s heard from this side of the river. He feels like absolute shit, because all this surely could’ve been prevented if he and the other boroughs had jumped in to help.

Additionally, it's not only Jack he needs to apologize to— there's someone else he needs to find. Race is definitely beyond angry. It's understandable, of course, but it stings nonetheless. Race is one of the only people in the world whose opinion Spot gives a shit about, and it sucks being on his bad side.

It’s been almost half a year since they said "I love you" for the first time. They'd sworn they'd always watch out for each other. Spot is quite sure he's fucked that up royally, and as much as he's really hoping he's not about to get broken up with, he certainly wouldn't blame Race if he dumped him.

It's getting late— between getting word of what happened and then hiking all the way over here, it's staring to get dark out. When he finally arrives, he has to gather himself for a moment before knocking— he's oddly nervous.

He doesn't recognize the kid who answers. Actually... wait, maybe he does. Race has talked about him before— tall and ginger with an uneven spattering of freckles, always wears his hat backwards— this has to be Albert.

He's never quite felt so judged as when Albert looks him up and down, with a curl to his upper lip like he's trying and failing not to give a dirty look.

"You from Brooklyn?" he finally asks, his voice dripping with annoyance. "You're a little late, the strike was this morning."

Spot swallows thickly and struggles to figure out exactly how to respond to that.

"I know," he states, trying to at least maintain his usual air of confidence. "Is Jack here? I need to talk to him... about that."

Albert stares at Spot with that same glare for a moment. There's a reason he must have been left in charge of the door— he's oddly intimidating, able to make you feel like you're two feet tall with just a judgemental look.

"No."

Spot sort of expects him to elaborate, but all he's left with is that cold, unnerving stare.

"Okay, well, where is he? Or— fuck it, is Racetrack here? I need to talk to him too."

Albert quirks an eyebrow.

"You're Spot Conlon," he states, like he's just realizing it, but also like he's not remotely impressed. "I'm not sure Race is too keen to see you right now. He's not happy with you."

Spot groans. He knew Race would be pissed, but now that he's hearing it for real, it hurts even more.

"Yeah, I know," he sighs. "That's why I walked my ass all the way to Manhattan to apologize— if he'll see me, that is."

Albert quirks an eyebrow, the most expression he's showed in this whole conversation.

"Apologize?" he asks, almost like it's funny to him. "By all means, go ahead and try. I wanna see this go down." He turns around and shouts into the building. "Ay, Racer! Someone's at the door for you!"

There's a bit of a commotion inside, a few kids asking if it's a lady friend or something, and Albert eventually turns back around to face Spot.

"Good luck," he chuckles, before pushing the door the rest of the way open and walking away.

There's Race, approaching the door with a curious kind of look on his face, though it falls into completely and totally pissed the fuck off as soon as he lays eyes on Spot.

"You... What are you doing here!?" he practically growls, before suddenly charging forwards at full speed. "You no-good, lying, cowardly piece of shit! I'll kill you!"

Before Spot can even try to react, Race decks him in the face with a surprising amount of force— his lanky arms can pack a ridiculously good punch.

So... not quite the reaction Spot was hoping for.

"Jesus, what the hell!?" He clutches his cheek, not sure what to do next— Race is probably the only person in the world who could punch him and not get pummelled into the ground for it. "Would you at least hear me out first?"

Race is clearly fuming, and he just swings his arm back and punches Spot again. In an attempt to at least defend himself, Spot tries to grab Race's arms and hold him still, but it escalates into wrestling each other to the ground, while Race tries to go in for another hit.

"You have some goddamn nerve showing up here!" snaps Race, who currently has the upper hand simply because although Spot is stronger, he's also terrified to hurt him. Race throws another punch and Spot just barely dodges it. "You think you can show your face in Manhattan after the shit you pulled today!? What the hell was goin' through your thick head!?"

Spot manages to catch one of Race's fists and hold it still, breathless from the adrenaline rush of whatever the hell is going on here.

"I'm sorry, Race," he pants. "If you'd just listen, we could—"

"Sorry doesn't mean shit, you asshole!" Race screams, using his free hand to hit Spot again, though this one has a little less force behind it. "Sorry don't fix none of what happened today, and it's all because you're a selfish, rotten bastard!"

"I'm selfish!?" yells Spot. He's making a genuine effort not to lose his temper, but it's tricky when he's quite literally being attacked. "What!? I was thinkin' about all the kids that coulda been hurt! I'm not the one that rushed into a fight I couldn't handle!"

"Oh, I'll show you a fight I can handle!" roars Race, before someone finally comes running from inside to grab him by the waist and pull him off of Spot. "Hey! What the fuck!? Let me at him!"

He's pulled back by two other newsies, kicking and struggling all the while, and Spot manages to push himself to his feet. His face is throbbing and he can taste blood in his mouth— Race is a surprisingly good fighter. In any other instance he'd be rather proud.

There's a crowd of kids in the doorway, watching in either total shock or dying with laughter. Spot Conlon very rarely feels embarrassed, but the dozens of pairs of eyes on him are unnerving to say the least.

"Stop it, Race," grumbles one of the guys who'd hauled him to his feet, some kid with glasses that Spot sort of recognizes. "Jesus— ain't us newsies supposed to be a family?"

"Oh please," snaps Race, with a bitter laugh. "He has a family, they're in Brooklyn and they're too high and mighty to come help us out! We ain't good enough for 'em."

Spot spits blood onto the pavement and widens his stance a little, trying to stay in control. He knows he looks intimidating when the glasses guy gulps and his eyes widen a little.

"You know that ain't true," says Spot, hoping the power of a calm, but loud voice will make it look like he's not freaking out. He takes a step closer to Race, who's stopped kicking and screaming but still looks enraged. Spot takes a deep breath. "Ain't nothin' what makes one borough better than another, and we oughta have each other's backs. I fucked up. I shoulda sent some fellas to join the strike today, and I shoulda been here myself. I'm sorry. I’m man enough to say it, I did the wrong thing."

Race's angry expression twitches. He's clenching his jaw and staring Spot down with fire in his eyes, but his gaze has softened just a little. Everyone else has gone silent— you could hear a pin drop.

If they don't fix things between their boroughs right now, there's almost no hope of another strike attempt. If Race accepts Spot's apology, it certainly doesn't mean things are okay between them personally, but at least the newsies won't be going to war around them.

"You should be," Race finally says, and he jerks his arms to make the fellas on either side of him let go. They comply, and Spot realizes that Race must be in charge in Jack's absence— wherever he is— because everyone seems to just be waiting for his next move. He looks around at the boys behind him and then sighs, spits in his hand, and extends it toward Spot. "Manhattan accepts your apology, if you swear you'll be behind us next time. This ain't over."

A blanket of relief washes over Spot as he returns the handshake, and there's an awkward, quiet round of applause from a few of the boys. Before letting go, he steps a little closer to Race, narrowing the space between them.

"Can we talk? ...Alone?"

Race hesitates, stares at Spot for a moment, and then shakes his head, taking an exasperated deep breath. He drops their hands.

"No. Go home, Spot."

Spot opens his mouth, but then closes it and pauses. He can't just walk away from here, knowing they're not on good terms. What if Race decides never to come sell in Brooklyn again?

"Racer..." he whispers, his eyes darting around the dozen or so newsies still watching them. "Please. Come on."

Race's cold expression cracks for just a moment, almost in pity, but he collects himself quickly.

"I'm busy," he simply says. "I got lots of kids hurt from today what need helpin'. I ain't wasting my time with you."

Spot feels his heart break a little at the implication that he's a waste of time, but he just nods and rubs a hand over his face to hide the tears that have sprung to his eyes.

"Yeah. Okay. That... that makes sense." He slowly starts to walk away as he tries to swallow the lump in his throat. "Maybe another time. Um... I'll see you at Sheepshead tomorrow?"

Race sighs.

"No." He offers a tight smile, like he's trying to at least keep things friendly. "I think I’ll be stickin’ to my own borough for a while.”

Spot feels absolutely crushed, but he has to keep it together, so he at least tries to smile back. This can’t be happening. Loving Race is the only thing he’s truly certain about— this can’t be the end of them.

“Okay… I get it. I’ll, um, I’ll be around, y’know? If you ever feel like… coming by. If you want.”

Spot can’t quite convince himself to walk away, so Race eventually just huffs and shoots a stern look to any of the other newsies that haven’t already gone back inside. Once the door closes behind the last of them, he takes a little step closer to Spot.

“Don’t make this harder than he needs to be.” His voice is incredibly soft and Spot is so desperate for his affection that it hurts a little. “Just leave. I’ll see you eventually, but not today, and not anytime soon. Go home.”

There’s nothing Spot can do but nod and start to walk away. This is exactly what he’d been scared of on his way here.

“I love you,” he offers, one last attempt at begging for forgiveness.

Race freezes. His face falls, and he seems to internally debate whether or not he’s going to say it back for what feels like forever. Ultimately, he just turns around and walks back inside without a word.

If anyone asks, Spot won’t admit it, but he cries for the whole walk home.

#you thought you were getting a happy ending? NO SIR #but ofc they eventually resolve things probably right before spot comes in at the rally #newsies #racetrack higgins #spot conlon #my writing #sprace

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spelviin · 2 years

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the funniest thing about the jon v helen fight is that it could have been over so much sooner if he'd just been willing to get to the fucking point??

like, the entire first half of it was that jon couldnt get his invocation out before helen distorted everything, so like. if he'd been quicker on the draw he coulda smote her no problem. just a quick, "hey eye, check this shit out!" woulda done the trick

but nooooo, jonald jarchivist sims, known theatre kid, could not help himself but come up with this big fancy invocation speech every. single. fucking. time. and was so committed to the bit he was willing to get trapped in spiral hell to do it, and honestly i respect the hell out of him for that

#og

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kiraswritten · 7 years

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Do Me a Favor (Reader x Bucky) | pt. 1

pairing: reader x bucky barnes warnings: swearing, bucky being a cocky little shit, playful teasing prompt: You’re pretty popular at my school/workplace and you showed up to the beach alone wearing a ridiculous amount of floaties. You noticed my staring, came up to me, and said, “I’m just trying to learn how to swim/get over my fear of water. You never saw me here.” (Bonus points if they’re rivals of some sort and A is really struggling not to take pictures). a.n: i literally have other stuff i need to finish writing but this is so funny and i need to write this okay.

pls lemme know what you think!

You sat back on your recliner chair, enjoying the warm rays of the sun and the cool summer breeze passing by.

It wasn’t supposed to be just you at the beach, you actually made plans with the rest of your co-workers to take the day off but you were the only one that actually told your manager in advance, despite your nagging, they didn’t ask for the time off early enough so here you were, alone by the sea.

You weren’t going to waste your time off sitting at home, wasting the gorgeous day away so you decided to go by yourself, you texted your friends that they can all just come by after work and have a bonfire.

The beach wasn’t too crowded, in fact, there weren’t that many people at all, scattered clusters of families enjoying the day like you. It was a beautiful Wednesday mid-afternoon, the ocean a clear blue hue, it was almost like you were in a vacation brochure, it seemed too perfect.

You were about to grab a container of trail-mix from your beach bag when something orange caught your attention from the corner of your eye.

You let out a audible gasp, seeing a tall, muscly man wearing a black pair of swim trunks that hung low on his hips, you would have been oogling at his abs if not for the assortment of yellow and orange floaties adored on his arms.

That wouldn’t have shocked you, in fact, you understood the guy, you weren’t that great of a swimmer either, but the thing that surprised you was that it was none other than Bucky Barnes, the cool and suave guy from work.

The two of you were hired the same time at the movie theatre so there was an unspoken rivalry between the two of you.

Whenever he’d be at concessions with you, the two of you would try to get through as much customers as possible, when you were both assigned to clean up the same stadium, the two of you would speed clean the rows of seats as fast as you can, usually making Steve choose who did a better job.

You tried hard to not fall for his charms, he was incredibly good-looking but his cocky demeanor ruined it for you. He always got under your skin and would try to beat you in every way he could, with your competitive nature, you paralleled him, not wanting to back down, especially not against a guy twice your size.

Wanda and Nat would poke fun at the two of you, saying that it was some cheesy elementary school crush, how you and Bucky didn’t know how to ‘properly’ express your feelings towards each other. You’d roll your eyes and scoff, sure he was cute but he’s not that cute.

You grab your phone from your bag, turning on the camera. You stifle a giggle, needing to capture this moment.

You notice him standing by the shoreline, letting the waves crash at his feet, he stares at the waves, chewing on his bottom lip. You hesitate to take a photo, lowering your phone.

You feel your heart melt with how innocent he looked, it was complete 180 from the usual Bucky you saw at work.

He turns to the side and looks straight up at you, you flinch in your seat, ducking down and looking away, fuck! he definitely saw you.

Bucky lets out a hearty chuckle, blowing a strand of hair away from his face, he walks over to you, standing where you were turned, blocking your view.

“O-oh, hey Bucky, ha-ha, fancy seeing you here.” You look up to see Bucky staring down at you, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Stalking me (Y/N)?” Bucky asks, smirking at you.

Yep, there’s the Bucky I know. You roll your eyes and let out a huff, “Excuse me? I was here first!” You gesture to your belongings, showing that you were here way before he was.

You notice a tint of pink flash across Bucky’s cheeks, you bite back the urge to smirk back, you totally won this round.

Bucky clears his throat, adjusting the floaties on his arms.

“Well-uh, yeah, whatever,” He rubs the back of his neck with his flesh hand, “I’m just here to learn how to swim, I never knew how,-” his cheeks grow pinker, “Would really be cool if-uh, if you didn’t tell anyone about this.” He clears his throat.

You fail to let a smile appear on your lips, loving how shy Bucky was acting, his expression mirrored how a kid who just got caught stealing a cookie out of a cookie jar.

“Oh so the almighty Barnes is asking me for a favor?” You sit up from your seat, getting ready to stand up.

Bucky gulps, looking away from you, nodding his head.

“Y-yeah-”

You turn your phone on once again, pressing on the camera app to quickly take photos of Bucky.

“Just let me take some photos first-” you say, taking a bunch of blurry shots of Bucky standing with his floaties.

“Hey!” Bucky yelps out, bringing his hand out to grab your phone, he charges towards you, trying to take the phone away from your hands.

You dodge him, running away whilst still taking photos of Bucky, giggling as you did.

He lets out a groan, annoyed that the floaties were slowing him down, he takes a wrong step, making him fall face first into the sand.

You let out a laugh, feeling half bad for how silly he looked but he deserved it, he’d always been so childishly mean towards you, you felt like this was the world paying you back for all those times.

Bucky sits down on the sand, pouting.

You stop running and stand in front of him with your phone still in your hand.

“You okay there Buck?” you ask, still grinning from ear to ear.

He notices your expression and immediately lunges forward, wrapping his arms around your legs to pull you down, you let out a yelp and in an instant your back was pressed against the sand with Bucky hovering over you.

You felt your cheeks heat up at the sight of Bucky looking down at you, his chest heaving, eyes staring straight down at you. His palms pressed down on the sand, your head was trapped between his arms, you clutched your phone against your chest.

“You okay there (Y/N)?” He mimics you, a smile creeping on his lips at how flustered you looked.

“G-get off,” you say weakly, your free hand hitting him on the chest.

“Delete those photos first,”

“No way, I won them fair and square.”

“Dunno why you’d think taking stalker photos is winning but-”

“They’re not stalker photos-”

“Just delete them-”

“Hell no this is for blackmai-”

“You wanted something from me Doll? Coulda’ just ask if you wanted se-”

You cover his mouth preventing him from finishing his sentence, you push his face away, trying to get out of his hold.

“Ugh you’re such a pig!”

“Just delete those photos and I’ll be out of your hair.”

You ponder for a moment, weighing in if you should delete the photos. Bucky’s staring down at you intently, watching your every expression.

You fail to notice how close the two of you actually are, with each passing second Bucky’s face lowers down closer to yours, only till you notice the faint smell of spearmint did you realize how close he was.

“Um, you’re kinda breathin’ down on me Buck,” You say, trying to alleviate the tension.

Bucky smirks, “First time I’ve ever gotten a complaint like that Doll,” He replies cockily.

“Ugh, yep, not deleting the photos, can’t change my mind now Barnes.” you say.

Bucky’s hands trail down the sand, their positions now near your sides, you fail to react quick when Bucky’s fingers start attacking your waist, tickling you.

“Seriously!?” you yell out, gasping for air as Bucky continued to tickle you.

You try to push away his hands but he was stronger than you and you could only take so much tickling before you were a laughing mess.

“Delete those photos!”

“Hell no!” you say between the laughs, your lungs hurting from laughing too hard.

“Bucky stop!” You gasp, trying to turn your body away but Bucky continued to tickle you, preventing you from moving.

“Okay fine fine!” you yell out, “I’ll delete them!”

Bucky flashes his pearly-white teeth, showing you his award-winning smile, he stops tickling you and gets off of you.

You sit up, dusting off the sand that clung onto your skin and clothes. “Ugh, you fucking child.” you mumble under your breath.

Bucky sits next to you and patiently waits for you to delete the photos, you roll your eyes and turn on your phone once again, looking through the camera reel.

There were a lot of blurry photos of you trying to capture Bucky with his floaties, you don’t hide the laughter when you see a perfect photo of him pouting like a toddler, his eyebrows knit with annoyance as you took a snapshot of him.

“Please, can I keep this one? I promise I won’t show this to anyone.” That was a lie, a boldface fucking lie.

“Hell no, I know you’re gonna show this to Sam and he’ll never live it down.”

You pout, clasping your hands together and batting your eyelashes, “Please Bucky?”

You see him visibly gulp, for a split second he was mesmerized; he’d harbored feelings for you since the beginning and you giving him this kind of attention made him forget that he was trying to get a very incriminating photo deleted from existence.

“N-no,” you see his cheeks flush pink once again.

“Getting flustered Barnes, fallin’ for me?” you tease him, nudging your shoulder against his.

He looks the other way, “Just delete the photo Doll,”

“But you look so cute in this one, feels like it’d be a shame for me to delete. Kinda wanna change this to my wallpaper for a bit-”

Bucky caught you off-guard, he pushed you back down onto the sand, this time his expression was a lot different from when he first pinned you down like this.

You felt your breath get stuck in your throat for a moment, you gulp, wondering if you really should delete the photo.

He leans down, his lips close to your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin

“Like teasin’ me Doll? Ain’t fair to a guy when you press his buttons like this-”

You bite back a moan, this wasn’t supposed to happen but holy shit you found this so hot.

“F-fine, I’ll delete it-” you sucked in a breath when you felt the vibrations of his chuckle hit your skin, “mm!” you failed to keep yourself from making a sound; your neck and ear area were incredibly sensitive, one touch and you’d be done for.

“Enjoyin’ this a little too much?” He grins, noticing how responsive you were to him.

“Shut up, it’s not that-” you lie, “I’m just-my ears and neck are really sensitive and when-oh fuck,” you let out a groan, feeling his teeth graze the shell of your ear.

Bucky chuckles darkly, “good to know these key things,” he whispers against your ear, trailing light kisses down your neck.

You bite down onto your bottom lip, your hand clenching on your phone, desperately trying to keep any other sounds from escaping your lips.

“I reckon’ you were planning this all along, teasin’ me so I would do this,”

You let out a gasp as you felt his hot tongue lick the spot between your neck and shoulder, your free hand grabs him by his shoulder, he grins.

“So y’gonna delete the photos Doll?” He says, detaching himself from your skin, you were slightly disappointed by the loss of contact.

“How ‘bout you kiss me first and then we’ll see?”

tags:

@feelmyroarrrr @thatawkwardtinyperson @mermaidinplaid @softwintersoldier @papi-chulo-bucky @angryschnauzer @frolicsomefawkes @gallifreyansass @lady-thor-foster @badassbaker @221bshrlocked @buckyappreciationsociety @magellan-88

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #sebastian stan fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes fanficton #bucky barnes x reader #bucky reader insert #marvel fanfic

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beardcore-blog · 4 years

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Mothpoint #9- Family Feud

*It felt wrong, locking them up, but Simon didn’t have any other choice. He was sure if he let them go, they’d kill him. Or, he’d have to kill them, and he couldn’t live with himself if it came to that*

Thawne- -name is Chronos.

Simon- Huh?

Thawne- *sigh* The time traveller on Pike’s payroll. I should have known.

Simon- Who… who is he?

Thawne- A long time Atom foe, went off the grid a few years ago. Palmer, that is the Atom, damaged his time belt, stranding him in the void. A space outside of time, when a timeline has been overwritten. Spent a millennia there before he managed to break out, and when he did… he was different. Picked up some temporal abilities, clairvoyance, the usual. Made him even more annoying

Simon- This Chronos guy, why would he help Pike?

Thawne- Why would you?

Simon- What?

Thawne- She’s still breathing. It would have been one less thing to worry about, now wouldn’t it?

Simon- I’m not you.

Thawne- And they’re not them. Stop treating them as such.

Simon- *They* are my family.

Thawne- Touching. But wrong

*No. Thawne was wrong, he was a trickster, a liar and a monster thought Simon. He had to get through to her. He knew if he got through to her, then the world was fixable. He didn’t know how he knew that, but he just knew. While he waited for her to wake up, he was working on a new costume. Old costume? It would be the same style he wore up to the City of Fear incident. Very classic. Bright pink and yellow, trunks, eyes instead of a visor. It was his most “heroic” look, even if he preferred his current suit for a myriad of reasons. He was hoping he’d finish before she awoke, but alas he heard her struggle against her bonds behind him as he worked, and he managed to turn around and face what he’d done only when he heard the chair fall over. He walked over and gingerly righted her. She spat at him.*

Emi- Get me out of here. Now.

*He closed his eyes, took a deep breath.*

Simon- Emi-

Emi- Go on then, how do you know my name?

Simon- We’re… Emi, this is going to sound crazy, but… Emi, you and I… We… we’re boyfriend and girlfriend. In an alternate timeline.

*Suddenly Emi laughs, loud, harsh, a sound Simon had never heard from her, not like this. It was a cruel laugh, sarcastic*

Emi- I’m not buying it. You think I’m stupid enough to go out with you? In this, or any time!

*He sighed, and returned to his work station. He’d been in a lot of crazy scenarios before. But altered timelines? That was new. He had thought himself immune to that all-encompassing phobia, the fear of change. He had thought wrong. Maybe, when he fixed everything, he’d visit Arkham and ask Doctor Crane about that… Or Professor Strange? Maybe there was a psychiatrist somewhere in Gotham who wasn’t insane…*

Emi- Look, freak, you don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into. Green Arrow’ll be here any minute and ohhhhhh man we are going to have some fun with you.

Thawne- You’re referring to your tracking device? The one you hid in the heel of your boot? First thing the kid did was destroy it. Waste of parts, if you ask me…

Simon- Could you-?

Thawne- Sorry, should I leave you "love birds" alone?

Emi- Ok, so maybe you do know my secrets. What good’s that gonna do ya? Do you even have a plan, or am I just gonna die of old age?

Thawne- I have a plan. No idea what the kid’s is though.

Simon- Really?

Thawne- I’m going.

Simon- Sorry, he’s… it’s complicated

Emi- Seems like a recurring problem

Simon- Well, I …am working on a plan. You’re not actually part of it – yet! If you’d like to help me, that’d be great, but for now, I just wanted to have someone to talk to. Not him, I can’t… You, I wanted you to talk to. Or I’ll just listen to you. Even when you’re being mean, I can’t not love you.

*He was pretty sure Thawne put his palm to his forehead at that point. Admittedly, it wasn’t Simon’s best line*

Emi- Oh. My God, you are by far the most naïve supervillain I’ve ever dealt with. How the hell are you one of the best enforcers of Gotham’s underworld.

Simon- That’s what I’m saying, I’m not.

*He had finally got the antennae on, those were always the trickiest, and thus the costume was complete. He stepped out of the room to change, then leapt back in with a dramatic “Ta-da!” Upon which Emiko burst out laughing, again.*

Simon- You don’t like it? You always liked it before…

Emi- AhahahahohmyGod. Oh my God. That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen.

*Simon looked down, dejected, then pulled a chair over, in front of Emiko. He sat down, removed his mask, and looked at her.*

Emi- What do you think you’re doing?

Simon- -I need to know that…that you’re my Emi. Maybe I’m wrong and I can’t fix everything. But Jay, Jay always told me you-you get the lightning rod and that keeps you grounded and so if I can-can get through to you I’ll be able to fix everything.

*The words were hard to get out. The idea that maybe he couldn’t fix everything, that maybe he couldn’t get her back. It killed him.*

Emi Get me. The fuck. Out of this cell. You stupid. Piece of shit.

*He dropped his mask on the floor, put his head in his hands, and started to weep. He would still try and find a solution, but he wasn’t going to get through to her now, was he?*

Emi- Oh my God, you’re crying? Over some mean wittle words? Geez, what’ll you do when I throw you in Arkham?

*In that moment, he bolted up from the chair*

Simon- Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up!

*He had never yelled with that much anger…ever. And certainly not at her. He saw the brief flash of fear in her eyes, even as she hid it. What did he look like to her, he wondered. Was that that other him, breaking through, or was he always like this? Was this what was always beneath the surface? No wonder Charaxes wanted him… He reached back for the chair, tried to sit down, instead he just fell down on the ground. He lay back fully, put his hands over his eyes and began to laugh. The laugh became a scream and then, silence. He stood himself up, picked up his mask, looked at her one last time, for now he tried to tell himself, then he put on his mask and left the room*

Thawne- *Sigh* Young love…

*Simon wanted to hit him so badly, if only he had speed… Then he could kill him, like he killed him, over and over and over. But then he realised that it simply wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth it. Right now Thawne was his only hope. Emi wasn’t going to help him. And so, he slumped out of that room too, ignoring his companion’s mocking "tutting," defeated to be met with his father’s face. Kinda. It was peculiar. His mask bore a striking resemblance to the Arkham Moth’s; both were green, both had dark rebreathers, and both had yellow, tinted visors Simon was sure hid an inner pain. Perhaps that was how, if not to Emi, he could appeal to his dad. Perhaps*

Drury- Went well, did it?

Simon- What was in the vial?

Drury- It doesn’t matter, does it?

Simon- It matters to me.

Drury- *You* don’t matter. If you don’t mind, I’d rather await my impending doom, then listen to you right now.

…

Simon- I know about your friends. Gar, and Mira-

Drury- Don’t you speak their names. Don’t you dare. What, did you think we’re equal or something, you think we can talk now because you know my tragic backstory? The friends that I’ve lost-! … Who told you anyway, your pal Carson?

…

Simon- I’m… I’m sorry.

Drury- Hnh. I don’t care.

…

Simon- Carson’s not my friend or anything. In case you thought-

Drury- Hmph.

Simon- He blew me up once.

Drury- You look pretty good considering.

Simon- What happened Drury. What really happened?

…

Drury- I was drunk. Gar was drunk. Miranda was- We were all drunk, we were on our way back from a play, Les Miserables- yeah, don’t look surprised, I’m a theatre buff. The radio was glitching in and out… thought it was a horror channel, turns out, it wasn’t.

Simon- The Blackest Night.

Drury- I wasn’t watching the road, in-between arguments with Gar, and trying to switch off the radio, I swerved, careered off of a cliff. I got off alright, but them? Miranda had fallen, she wasn’t going to make it. And what about Gar, eh? Well. Heh.

*He takes his mask off, his face shadowed. He wipes a single tear from his eye, and continues*

Drury- He hadn’t got out the car, don’t know if he even coulda, heck by that point it was on fire, blazing even. But he wouldn’t move. He just… sat there, seatbelt still buckled- burning, entranced by the flames. I tried pulling him out, I really did, but it was too late. I shoulda watched the road, yet I- I killed them. And then, then they came back. Black, grey, dead, like the rest of those so called ‘Black Lanterns’….

*Drury takes a step forward, Simon a step back, he knew it was coming but there it was. His dad’s face. Scarred, burned all on one side, not unlike Two-Face’s, one eye dead, the other filled with regret. Never before had Simon felt so much… pity for his father*

Drury- I watched them die, then I watched them be perverted, transformed into zombies by some necromancer, and they spoke to me. Mocked me. Blamed me. And y’know, they were right. Was that what you wanted to hear?

…

Drury- I’ve answered your questions, suppose it’s my turn. Who, are you?

…

Simon- My name is Simon. Simon… King.

Drury- Simon. I always liked that name…

Simon- You ever considered naming Ax- your son that?

Drury- My son-? I… I put my kids into foster care. They deserve better than I could give them. Axel, and Kitte- Katie. Heh.

…

Simon- I didn’t grow up with my father, but… I idolised him. I still felt like I knew him. Every news report, every article, I watched it all. My dad was one of the "greats"… Two years ago, I finally met him. He wasn’t that legend. In fact, he was better than I could imagine.

Drury- Why’s that?

Simon- He was kind. He was good. Yeah, he did bad crap, yeah he hurt people, but he always did it for his family, and for his friends. He was there for them. Like you should be for your kids.

Drury- I don’t deserve them.

Simon- They deserve a father, don’t they?

…

Drury- Your old man, what happened to him?

…

Simon- I lost him. ==== *It was for the best, he knew that. But it hurt all the same, like a bullet in his chest. Granted, he did have a bullet in his chest, so that might just be that that stung, but he doubted it. He had spent a good minute staring at that keypad, going back and forth on it, before finally, he put in the code he’d set. It was her birthday*

Simon- You’re… you’re free to go.

Emi- This is a trick, right?

Simon- No. Please.

*Emi stared at him, and the pain returned- having her look at him like he was nothing was worse than any wound, that was now a certainty. She climbed out the window, and then, she was gone. Simon walked quietly back to the main cortex*

Thawne- Did you do it?

*Simon doesn’t say anything. Thawne smiles, and nods*

Thawne- Good boy. This, is our key to getting out of this mess.

*Thawne picks the courier up from the workbench. It’s heavily modified*

Thawne- This is a hypertime tracker. Alone, it’s useless, but combined with DNA, it can track that person’s movements across time, to the last place they travelled.

Simon- Then, it’s nearly over…

Thawne- Aside from your daddy issues, the Fireflies and Bane, yes. Yes it’ll be over, but first, we need Chronos.

——– Credit to Brute, who wrote the framework of the Simon/Emi conversation back when this story was just a concept. It’s been heavily adapted since, as new characters and plot lines were introduced

Posted by Duncan C. Young on 2019-02-09 14:16:23

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