consilio et animis

Detective John Blake - GCPD - 27 I figured it out too late. You gotta learn to hide the anger. Practice smiling in the mirror. It’s like putting on a mask. roleplay account for save this city [to do]

[savethisarchive]

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[detective-blake]

META: Tell us (if you're comfortable with it) about your character's gender identity and sexuality. Is their gender presentation neutral, or does it embrace one side of the binary or another? Are they heterosexual, homosexual, or do they fall under the bisexual umbrella? If the latter, have they had any romantic or physical experiences with people of the same gender - or would they ever?

[Blake identifies as male—some of his teenage years were spent tentatively exploring gender expression without actually knowing what he was doing. His high school years were also about the time he realized that his romantic feelings weren’t necessarily confined to one gender.

He was in a (almost strictly romantic) polyamorous relationship from the middle of junior year to the end of the summer before senior year, when a third of the trio moved away for college life. This relationship was an important stepping-stone in Blake’s transition from his “rebellious teenager” phase to the realization that he couldn’t stay angry at everything forever—how his partners managed to do so will probably be touched upon in a separate headcanon post in the near future.

Since then he hasn’t been in many relationships, maybe one or two consisting of a few dates over the course of many months. He’s never found himself all that interested in moving toward more intimate relations with anyone if he feels as though he’s not personally connected to them. Because of this I’d say he’d best be described as graysexual, with his polyamory sitting in the back of his mind but not quite manifesting itself during this time of his life, probably because of his intense focus on his job now that he’s where he’s at with it.

So, tl;dr: John is a cisgender male graysexual with previous polyamorous behavior, which he has gravitated away from in recent years for quite a few reasons. One of which being his apartment is way to small to have more than one body in there at a time.]

[harperjamie]

The one at Quarter.

[detective-blake]

It looks like everything waited until tonight to happen. I'd like to think it means it's gonna fizzle out soon but that's... probably not the case, I'm guessing.

[dailyjosephgordonlevitt]

Teacher Stories From Teach: “The teacher I remember most was Mr. Bechtel. I had him in 11th grade for U.S. History. He told stories. It wasn’t just dates and terms. Also he treated us like people, not like children. Thank you Mr. Bechtel.” - Joseph Gordon-Levitt [x]

[savethisarchive]

A Questionable Welcome || Bruce Wayne Party (chatzy)

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[detective-blake]

STC CHALLENGE #1

What is your character’s full name and Date of Birth? John Robert Blake, born June 23, 1986.

Which secret identities does your character know? He has strong suspicions about Batman's identity (and by extension a few members of the Batfam), soon to know Knightfall's through their current para.

What is your character’s place of work/education? John is a GCPD detective and went to Gotham Central High School.

Did your character grow up in Gotham? If not, where are they from? John did grow up in Gotham, in many different houses across the city. He's hardly left the city.

How does your character feel about Gotham City? It's probably the furthest thing from perfect, but somehow he can call it his home. He has no hometown pride, but he does feel as though it's his duty to try to make it worthy of someone's pride.

If your character currently does not have a secret identity, describe the identity they would adopt, including a name and costume.  I can't really see John ever putting on a secret identity. He has strange feelings about the whole idea of the vigilantes, and although there are definitely those who are on "his side," he's comfortable as a lawful officer for now. If the system of law becomes so corrupt that he couldn't bear to affiliate with it, he'd maybe consider working undercover, but he doesn't put much thought into things like that in hopes he won't have to ever actually do anything along those lines. (His costume would definitely be black, though, he knows that much. These flashy people seem very attention hungry.)

Does your character have any distinguishing marks, piercings, tattoos, scars etc? Has a couple cigarette burns from encounters with older kids who could get away with marking him when he was little, with a myriad of scars from his work with the GCPD. Had his ears pierced at one point but they've closed up a bit since his junior year of high school.

How does your character usually dress? On the job and off he can usually be seen wearing button-ups and ties with "nice" pants. Occasionally he wears t-shirts and jeans but usually only when he hasn't had the opportunity to do laundry, and never on the job.

What are some of your character’s hobbies? What kind of places in Gotham do they like to go during their downtime? John learned how to play the guitar during his stay in one foster home, so he spends some time doing that in his free time, as well as spending some time helping out at the boys' homes throughout the city.With Finnigan's being so close to the police station he wanders over there from time to time, but is slightly uncomfortable drinking more than a few drinks over the course of the night. He wandered into Flaming Mo's once with a friend and although the first time was a bit overwhelming, he'd like to go back sometime with someone who wouldn't forcefully introduce him to people because they liked the same music as him or were wearing the same shoes.

[detective-blake]

Do you remember your first case as a cop? What about your first case as a detective?

My first real chance to be a cop on my own was something not so dramatic—either a robbery from a gas station or a tiny convenience store. Might’ve even been from Batman’s convenience store, I can’t remember for sure.

My first case as a detective was a bit more interesting—a murder with no apparent suspect. It ended up being the guy’s son-in-law. Didn’t get to hear how his wife felt about the whole thing, but it’d be realistic to figure she didn’t miss him much once he was jailed.

[raya-vestri]

Space Invaders || Raya & John

[raya-vestri]

Her entire body was buzzing with fear, anger and adrenaline. Raya was not the kind of girl who accepted being harassed, and she definitely wasn’t the kind of girl to be told to calm down. Over the years, many people had said these very same words to her, and every time they did nothing to soothe her nerves. Instead, she bristled more, her arms instinctively coiling toward her body, every muscle tensed and poised to attack should it come to that. The man in front of her seemed…kinder than the rest, or more sober at the very least. She hadn’t noticed him when she entered the bar, perhaps because he didn’t stand out as his comrades did. He didn’t have the overbearing look of a man who enjoyed having power, and abusing it. Raya knew it would be stupid to get in another altercation with yet another police officer, but logic had flown out the window the second that man put his hand on her. She knew how she was when she got this way, all she saw was red, the edges of her vision fading to black, and there was nothing she could do about it. There were very few people in this world that could bring her back to earth, and none of them were present.

She eyed him carefully, her voice low. “Do not tell me to calm down.” What irked her more than anything was that he called her m’am. Like she was a criminal, like he now wore his uniform and badge, like her actions forced him to go back on duty. “And don’t call me m’am.” She added, her words full of venom. “I don’t need you to protect me or whatever the hell it is you think you’re doing, and I am not going to be the damsel in distress who is graciously saved and now invites you to escort me home in safety, and then happily invites you to share my bed.” Her voice took on the wispiness of a faux princess, dreamlike and bitter at the same time. “I’m not that kind of girl and that’s not the way this story ends.” 

Her body still taught and on guard, Raya reached behind her to grab her beer, her eyes never leaving the man in front of her. She could hear the snickers of men around her but blocked them out. She didn’t care about any of them and for the first time since moving here, Raya felt almost unbearably alone. “Now if you don’t mind,” she started, her voice raising so everyone could hear her. “I’d like to finish my beer in peace, thanks.” 

[detective-blake]

The anger was understandable. His approaching out of the blue, had it been in any other circumstance, would not be.

But in this situation, with the alcohol in everyone's systems, he was more than certain that this intervention was called for. Granted, the way he had gone about it could have been a bit different, but what was done was done. He definitely didn't need to think or look to hard to realize the woman was in no mood for further interaction with the police.

"I'm sorry," he threw out quickly after she picked up on the unintentonal act of talking down to her. She had just brought a man to the floor, the fact that he thought he had any right to talk to her as though she needed saving was a bit naive of him, he realized. It was instinct, one he'd hope was harmless but could have been readjusted a bit for this situation if he had taken a few more seconds to do so. As the woman went on, though, his expression changed from one asking for forgiveness to one of slight disbelief. She was dramtically angry, she was angry to the point of assuming every one in this bar was attempting to make a move on her. "Listen, I don't want anything from you, I just wanted to make sure this wouldn't escalate into anything the few sober cops in the bar couldn't handle," he muttered, his brow furrowing again as she cautiously reached for her drink without moving her glare from him. "That was obviously in self-defense, and he was definitely out of line. But trying to explain that to a group of angry, drunk men might prove difficult, is all. Can't punch them all out."

Half of him was nearly angry at her for not expecting something like this to happen, but the other half of him was angry at the first half for even considering such a thought as fair or decent. "I don't know how peaceful the rest of your night is going to be in here, ma'--" He stopped, clearing his throat and looking toward the fallen officer, who was now peeling himself off the floor and attempting to relocate himself.

When the woman raised her voice, a few conversations stopped, eyebrows being raised in her direction before the discussions trickled back into motion. He glanced back to his corner, noticing it was taken and definitely not wanting to have to reclaim it. He nodded to the woman but moved only to the now empty stool at the bar where her harasser had been seated, keeping his eyes away from her to make sure she knew he wasn't going to try anything. He could leave--that'd be the most reasonable thing, honestly--but he found himself stuck in the bar, not trusting the others to heed her warning, despite how convincing it had been. Blake wasn't considering himself a guardian of any sort, but if he could prevent another incident from happening somehow, he'd try his hardest to do so. He ordered another beer and started on another eternal drink.

[detective-blake]

Up Jumped the Devil || Knightfall & Blake

[chevaliertombee]

Unfortunately for John, she remembered him.

He must have been relatively new when he had been called to the scene. Horror had flitted across everyone’s faces, but it remained on his. Seventeen years old and she was accused of her parents’ brutal murder. Charise remembered the accusatory looks and being dragged up from her knees, still dry-heaving with her head bowed. The rookie— John— had handcuffed her and kept her upright.

She held some resentment toward him, but she owed him a great deal. Without being sent off to Arkham Asylum, she would not have learned how to channel her rage into something useful. She had punished Lukas and was working toward cleaning up the city as no one else was willing to. For her, it was morally right— and though most of the other vigilantes were apt to disagree, the police turned a blind eye and tagged the criminals in the morgue.

Some officers went a step further. On nearly every beat, she had police officers on her payroll to point her in the direction of villains and petty criminals alike. Beside the generous stipend she offered them, there was the added benefit of their beats having fewer criminals. In the rare event someone spring a trap and she wasn’t able to get there, it was an easy grab instead of a long chase. As far as she was concerned, she was a champion to the GCPD.

Blake had a beat she had a tenuous grasp on, and she would be lying to say it wasn’t also a quest for personal satisfaction. He was one of the few clean officers; no record she could find. Another detective scoffed at the notion of her getting him to dirty his hands. Perhaps they did not realize that every man had a price and that guilt was a powerful tool.

She had waited patiently within the building, listening to him slam his car door. He was timely, she would give him that much. She allowed him a few moments before she walked the maze to the entrance. Her reflection warped and distorted in the mirrors and the dim lighting as she paused in the doorway. He had brought his gun— not that she was particularly surprised.

"Thank you for meeting me here, Detective Blake," she began. From the angle of her stance, she seemed taller and broader than she was. He was not particularly intimidating, but a physical advantage would work for her for the time being. "Timely. Prompt. I appreciate that," she added, pressing her gloved hands together. Charise inhaled, pressing her hands against her hips.

"I will not waste your time. I have a proposition that would be mutually beneficial. I would like for you to report crimes and suspicious activities to me along your beat. In return, I will give you a weekly stipend," she explained. "I have been keeping Gotham safer for the last three months and I would like to expand my range further. I ask benign neglect from you to my methods."

She did not think he would be particularly easy to sway.”Terms are negotiable. I have no malicious intent toward you. I would just like to lessen your load.”

[detective-blake]

After a few moments, his hand lingering in the air a bit away form his gun out of cautious preparation, Blake caught sight of who he assumed (and caught himself hoping) was Knightfall. The figure seemed to appear out of nowhere after morphing through the entrance of the attraction, its form at first a bit warped and twisted as the mirrors played with the reflection of it. Once he realized there was no reason to reach for his gun at the moment, he let his hand fall, and then crossed his arms after that second of alarm was gone and under control. He had to calm down. There hadn't been any threats uttered yet.

Knightfall began speaking almost immediately after she had revealed herself. The detective allowed himself a glance at the mask before he let his eyes wander to the car behind her. He nodded, not moving his eyes from the hood before her tone changed slightly and she began to speak more purposefully, more businesslike. The "things to discuss," as she had said earlier, were about to be touched upon. He readied himself.

His brow furrowed almost immediately after he had a chance to process the words being tossed toward him. She had to know... something about him, enough to know that what she was proposing was against... everything he worked for. He wasn't a sell-out, and Knightfall had to know that. She definitely did, he could tell by the way she went on after she laid down the first few sentences, as though she had much, much more convincing to do. She'd have to do much better than she was in order to get him to do anything against moral code. The GCPD's performance was less than adequate, he knew this, he wouldn't disagree with anyone who assumed this, but to sell information to someone like Knightfall? To anyone?

"Your methods." His eyes narrowed for a moment, his eyes going to the mask that hid Knightfall's face from him. "'Keeping Gotham safer' by buying cops out, murder." He choked back a scoff, adjusting his arms against his chest. "You're wasting your time," he nearly spat, uncrossing his arms and moving toward his car. "I have no say over what other officers," that word was spat, poison on his tongue he had to get out as soon as it was formed, "do with themselves, but there is nothing you can offer to convince me to accept your proposition. Find someone else."

The walk back toward his car took some effort, for some unknown, nearly frightening reason. What couldn't be more than a couple yards felt like miles--who knew what would happen while his back was turned? But to turn around would show that fear. Knightfall had said she had no malicious intent while her offer was on the table, but what would she do now that she wasn't getting her way? Blake resisted the urge to hover his hand near his holster again, instead concentration on the driver's side mirror of his car, counting the seconds until some sort of reaction from Knightfall would keep him from leaving the scene.

[heisenbrux-deactivated20140422]

nightcall, a fanmix for the honest cop amongst the wolves. (listen)

"You gotta learn to hide the anger, practice smiling in the mirror. It’s like putting on a mask."

i. nightcall - kavinsky ; ii. so he won’t break - the black keys ; iii. airbag - radiohead ; iv. better man - oasis ; v. passing the hat - cold war kids ; vi. soul of a man - beck ; vii. dead end friends - them vultures ; viii. ulysses - franz ferdinand

[detective-blake]

What are your thoughts on redemption?

It's something a lot of people try to attain, sometimes not in the rightest of ways, but everyone deserves a crack at being redeemed. Not everyone deserves to be redeemed, though, sometimes even less after their attempt at reaching redemption, which is ironic but the way things play out sometimes.

[savethisarchive]

Selfish. Extravagant. Hedonistic. These are all words people have used to describe Zatanna Zatara. As someone who’s in the public eye quite a bit, it’s easy for people to miss her many positive qualities in favor of finding things to complain about. It gets even harder when good intentions lead to dire consequences.

When Zatanna came to Gotham, she only intended to help others. She saw how other vigilantes work, and thought that instead of detaining or killing criminals, she would try something a little different. A way to make sure they’d never commit their crimes again. Unfortunately for those criminals, it amounted to wiping their minds of everything that spurred them to action. 

As Zatanna well knows, magic is a funny thing. It’s often unpredictable, and at its essence, it’s about karma and balance. She lost something of hers, too. She noticed her magic grew weaker by the time Batman put an abrupt end to her methods. So when articles started running— ones about strange, seemingly-magical occurrences— Zatanna began putting the pieces together. Even people who have trained in magic for years have a difficult time with it; when untrained ex-criminals have some of her powers on their hands, Zatanna knows Gotham is looking at a big problem— one that seems to be getting bigger.

[raya-vestri]

Space Invaders || Raya & John

The air was moist, too humid for Raya’s taste, but the temperature wasn’t bad. No longer was it freezing, but it wasn’t yet hot enough to feel like you were in the Everglades every time it rained. Pulling on her bright yellow rain slicker, Raya made her way to the local pub. She loved the place; it reminded her of being on the road with her family. Rambunctious laughter, ruthless teasing, but all in the name of fun and no hard feelings. She rarely left the place without a smile on her face, though whether that was from the happy hour drinks or from the atmosphere was anyone’s guess.

Deciding to switch it up, Raya left after only one drink, wanting to check out some of the other watering holes in Gotham. She stopped short when she saw Finnigan’s, the name boasting the idea of the perfectly cliche american-irish pub and a smile pulled across her face. Pushing open the door, she noticed a certain kind of persona in the place: cops. Men in uniform, men who wore their uniform written across their face, the kind of men you just knew were in law enforcement. Raya had never had much luck with the law, never breaking it and never getting into serious trouble, but she didn’t particularly like the idea of authority, especially when that authority was mostly male.

Head held high and a small smirk playing on her lips, Raya found a seat at the bar and ordered a Guinness, flashing a smile and hearty tip at the bartender. 

"Hey, girl, what’re you doing out this late?"

Raya turned toward the voice, surprised to see the man it belonged to holding his face inches away from her own, his black hair, fair skin and green eyes taking up her entire field of vision. If it wasn’t for the skin-crawling sensation she got when he spoke, he’d be attractive. She forced a smile and pressed the tip of her finger to the man’s chest. Grudgingly, she admitted to herself it was hard, not an ounce of fat for her nail to sink into. “I’m a grown girl,” she answered, pushing the man away. “I don’t have a bedtime anymore.” She flicked her ponytail as she turned away from him, eager to be left alone. But. of course, she wouldn’t get that luxury. 

"I’m sure I could give a sweet girl like you a bedtime. Mine, for example, is open right about now!" The man threw back his head, a booming laugh masked in the smell of whiskey erupting from his mouth. Raya rolled her eyes and smiled again, the gesture hard and cold, leaving no room for discussion. "While I greatly appreciate that offer, I’m gonna have to decline.” Before she could stop herself, the words came pouring out. “Ya see, I have this thing called standards and no matter how good-looking you think you are, I am not and have never been that easy to catch.”

Raya had been known to let her mouth get her into trouble, but it was never too much for her to handle. When she felt the man’s rough grip on her arm, she didn’t hesitate to think it through, to think about all the policemen sitting around watching her. She kicked her leg behind her, her foot coming up to make excruciating contact with the man’s family jewels before spinning toward him, her elbow coming down hard on the back of his neck. 

"If you ever touch me again I promise that will be the last time you have hands!" She yelled at the crumpled man, forgetting her audience. In retrospect, she probably should have remembered where she was and that, even in self defense, there was a very good chance she’d just assaulted a Gotham police officer. She groaned internally, thinking the altercation was over, when she felt someone approach behind her. Whirling around, there was a blind fire in her eyes as she felt herself snap.

[detective-blake]

Blake hardly ever drank. He didn't like what it did to people, he didn't like what it did to him, and he despised what it did to other cops. A drunk cop was something people made jokes about--something that was, admittedly, funny, but only in certain situations. In others, the idea that they had an authority that had to be respected in all situations bled together with the invincibility alcohol sometimes gave to those who decided to down a few drinks. Putting a bunch of drunk and drinking cops together in the same building hardly ever resulted in a peaceful evening.

So when a lone woman walked into Finnigan's, he bristled almost visibly. Not because the male-dominated atmosphere had been penetrated, but because there was no way this was going to end peacefully, not with this many drunks in the same consolidated area. He was seated near the corner, where he could sip on the same drink he had had since his arrival and watch the rest of his co-workers go about their drunken ways. He had come with another officer, in fact, but they had been called over to take part in heavier drinking and Blake had waved them on, not wanting to hold them back from whatever allure getting drunk held for them.

She seemed well aware of the situation and hardly intimidated by it. Blake returned his attention to his table and the thoughts that had been rattling around in his head. Sip number thirty-five of his drink. This beer would last forever if he could help it. He was in the middle of thirty-six when he heard the exchange at the bar.

It really wasn't any of his business, but in a way... it was? He could pull the "brother in arms" card or the more suitable "that's no way to talk to anyone, especially a woman" approach, and the fact that it was going on in public--at a bar, probably one of the more public places--made it everyone's business.

Thirty-seven was interrupted by the nigh-random outburst from the redhead, bringing down the officer with a few well-placed blows. He wasn't the only one impressed with the display, but the expression fell from the audience in the most united motion Blake had ever seen. No one moved toward either of them, and seeing as he was probably one of the only sober people in the entire establishment, he downed the rest of his beer and moved toward the scene.

What he was expected was a calm confrontation, maybe offering to scrape the guy off the floor and show him the door to avoid harassing the girl anymore. What he was not expecting was a further attack--especially against someone who hadn't done anyone to deserve it. He furrowed his brow, trying his hardest not to do anything that she might see as offensive or defensive of the other police officer, but still attempting to have some authority over the situation. "Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to calm down," he offered, resisting the grimace attempting to pass over his face at the sound of that.

[detective-blake]

Up Jumped the Devil || Knightfall & Blake

As he was sure quite a few of the people of Gotham did, Blake had mixed feelings about those who hid their face behind masks. Of course there were reasons to do so, but the effect it created was never one that sat all that well with him. It was sort of the effect clowns gave off--the eerie "are you looking at me like that or is your face just stuck like that" feeling as you tried not to make eye contact with them but were just drawn to do so by whatever terrible force of nature.

Knightfall's mask wasn't even one of those half-face ones, either. There was literally no way to see any expression of the person behind it. That was what got him the most.

He couldn't display any of "that," however, because he needed to be secure in at least the fact that he wasn't going to be shaking in his boots during this confrontation.

His beat took him through Otisburg, skirting Park Row and going through a few streets but not spending too much time in the district itself. He had a feeling the department wanted more experienced cops in Crime Alley, for whatever reason--he tried to keep out of other's business so long as they weren't making any moves to let him know about it, unless of course there was a way he could put a quick stop to their behavior. There hardly ever was an easy way to make a dirty cop come clean.

After about fourty-five minutes with no incidents to report or to be called to, Blake continued onward through Gotham Village, keeping an ear on his radio in case something was called in but wondering with the rest of his mind what would happen if he didn't show for this friendly meeting with Knightfall. They had known his name and his schedule so obviously they knew enough about him to make a statement if he decided against anything they had suggested. He was interested enough in what they had to say to keep from backing out, though--he hadn't been approached by a masked anyone in so long he had been caught off guard by it all. Cops and vigilantes didn't really mix.

Which got him thinking--which side was this mask, in particular, on? To approach a cop meant they either were strongly secure in their place or they didn't care what happened either way. They didn't necessarily have to be on the "good" side of things, however that was interpreted, and that honestly almost scared him. He wasn't sure of what he was getting involved in for the first time in a while and that was one of his biggest concerns at the moment.

The other concern being the fact that he felt the need to be armed. Was it a subconscious move to just be on the safe side or was he really that uncomfortable? The very idea of meeting at the House of Mirrors had made him want to bring his gun--everything after that was kind of just adding to the need.

He reached said destination and parked in an inconspicuous spot, making sure his own comm was on--the excuse to leave for a call to duty might not be enough to get away from an uncomfortable situation but it was worth a shot, given the chance. He pulled his flashlight from his belt and cast the light on his watch for a second. He was five minutes ahead of schedule, the hands pointing to 10:55. Five whole minutes to stand in an empty amusement park.

Goodie.

[mingdliu-deactivated20210422]

I hold so much anger and resentment inside, I am afraid one day this bitterness will turn me dark.

Ming D. Liu, My Demons I Hold Onto (via mingdliu)

[chevaliertombee]

[mask pm] So be it. I will see you there at eleven this evening.

This should go without saying, but come alone. If you want to bring a weapon, so be it.

[detective-blake]

[pm] All right.

Of course. 

[chevaliertombee]

[mask pm] Of course. Nothing gets past you, or so I’ve heard.

Amusement Mile. The House of Mirrors. 

[detective-blake]

[pm] Aw shucks.

...Interesting choice. I'll be outside the building if that's all right with you.