#reknight

[bruisedlegacy]

i think we have to kill this guy.... guy

how badly?

[frogcase]

@reknight; "who did this?"

their   back   kisses   rough   brick,   breath   *forcibly   leaving   their   body   with   the   impact.   their   eyes   *struggle   to   focus   ⸺   blinking   rapidly   as   they   try   to   focus   in   on   the   vigilante   in   front   of   them.   where   had   he   come   from?   pocket   almost   assumes   jason   is   here   to   collect   on   time   *borrowed   from   escaping   death   seventy   long   years   ago.

pocket   frowns,   head   rolling   forward   and   then   backward   as   the   metallic   tang   of   blood   meets   their   lips,   ire   rekindled   *brighter   within   the   back   of   their   eyes.   there's   a   sneaking   suspicion   in   the   furthermost   corners   of   their   brain   ( of   which   is   still   able   to   rationalize )   that   pocket   had   been   roughed   up   more   than   they   originally   assumed   ⸺   though   assessment   earns   a   small,   triumphant   smile   of   blood   and   pride   as   they   realize   they   had   been   able   to   walk   away   with   limbs   still   *functioning.

❝ 'unno   -   'm   sure   they'll   be   back.   r'ya   with   'em? ❞

words   come   out   *barely   decipherable,   tonal   content   dictated   by   the   way   their   eyes   continue   their   struggle   to   focus   on   jason.   try   as   they   may,   limbs   gawkily   swing   forward   as   they   *propel   themselves   off   the   wall;   a   piss-poor   attempt   to   project   that   they   were   ( not )   prepared   to   continue   to   defend   the   *only   thing   they   had   on   them   ⸺   a   beaten   up   briefcase   tucked   behind   their   legs.

❝ not   gettin'   my   *case.   's   my   lifeline.   go   off   with   y'r   friends. ❞

[iryonin]

SENDER cleans blood from RECEIVER'S hands, steady and careful.

there's a firm set to his mouth  —  a near-imperceptible press of his lips,  like he wants to frown but is consciously,  pointedly deciding not to  —  that she recognizes.    a micro expression she can only pinpoint because she's seen it reflected in the mirror,  to date,  an uncountable number of times.    she never noticed it when she was younger,  if she's being honest.    she'd catch sight of herself  (in the gleam of polished medical equipment,  against sleek metal or muddied glass while navigating unknown city streets  -  rendered,  most clearly,  on the surface of the bedroom half-length vanity she keeps meticulously clean)  and not think twice of it.    the subtly pinched brows,  lips pulled in,  it was the way her face sat,  she believed,  and never wondered at the reason she labored to examine it any further.

a hushed    "jason"    settles in the shared silence.    it's a quiet night for gotham  —  flickering streetlights and muted club music from a block over their only backdrop.    she pauses,  caught between it's okay and i'm sorry / caught between the creeping urge to ask what do you see when you look at me and wishing  (selfishly,  clinging to the memory of years bygone)  that this unspoken non-secret of hers had remained outside his bounds forever.     

she releases a breath.    curls her fingers but doesn't pull away.    "...thanks."  

[spidroins]

@reknight : continued.

torn suit, split knuckles and a dried up bloodied nose; a little banged up would be the understatement of the century. he sure looked the part, mask pooled into his lap from when it was peeled away from flushed cheeks, revealing his own brunet tangles saturated with perspiration. peter somehow felt a lot better than he looked, and his eyes ever alert remained a surprising contrast against limp frame. he paid no mind to acrid air, unsure if it was coming from the unused space, or them. probably both. he hadn't yet bothered to look himself over, or take account of any broken bones. the way his body slumped into jason's said enough; that he was content that way, everything else could wait.

" straight from the maple. " his own response just above a whisper, watching crimson shell come apart to reveal tired eyes that told many a tale. never did he hold any shame for simple requests, the barriers of their masks could wait a few more minutes. observant, prying as suspected, though in the way of caring. his eye swept over familiar features. " 'course there's somethin' to look at. " another mutter, slightly raspy in his throat as gloved fingers lifted to push dampened curls from the other's skin. he wouldn't push it, despite the tingle at the mouth that wondered what his partner tasted like with a hint of iron.

" you look beat. " outright, the feeling was mutual with quiet desire to res in one exhausted heap. perhaps a little less bloodied, preferably not amongst water damage and dust. somewhere more personal. wishful thinking curled his fingers, it was his turn for doubt. " what d'you normally do? after stuff like this? " maybe they could squeeze over his bathroom sink together and watch questionable tap water turn a concerning orange. " don't plan on spending the night here, do you? "

[jennifercheck]

there are dangerous eyes on her. & it should deter her from carrying on, stopping her from caressing flushed drunken cheeks, or from nurturing the many lies that continue to leave her glossed cherries. IT WOULDN'T TAKE MUCH FOR SOMEONE TO NOTICE THE HORROR ─ how a romantic flutter of her eyelashes can drastically turn into a sharp slit-eyed glare, or how easy it is for a pearly-white smile to become the very same thing that causes ultimate defeat.. she should be on her very best behaviour, [especially with campus police only a few blocks away] – AND YET SHE CARRIES ON. siren eyes peer into one, then two, then three guys she has added to her roster, denim skirt hiked up a little higher to make sure they know exactly what they're wanting. it doesn't mean a whole lot, they can think & fantasise about the many different ways they'd like to* use, swallow, meddle –continuously with her innards, all autonomy of jennifer's body gifted to the nearest suitor: WHATEVER THEIR DESIRE MAY BE! but it never lives up to the fantasy, especially when all that lies underneath this vessel is: ℜot, 𝔇ecay, ₐ] 𝔖he-𝐃evil. in that exact moment, it seems victory is near, and she feels a deal closing in as lips meet the perfect victim's.. that is, until: ( @reknight* pulls Jennifer away from the situation.

IT TAKES HER A SECOND TO REALISE HER BEARINGS. for that split second, the music sounds a little too loud & she has the blinding urge to dig her nails into something.. merely to rip it apart. once felines fall on the culprit, she freezes ─ only for a second, before letting her heels melt into lace-up hot-pink wedges. JENNIFER'S AT AN ALL-TIME HIGH RIGHT ABOUT NOW. & all she can think about is the sweet release of flesh stuck in teeth. you can tell she's at the brink of expiration, sweetness turning *saccharine rot as her lancôme juicy tube isn't powerful enough to cover all the peeled patches on her lips. Still, she remains the most wanted there. ❛❛ jay─ I WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF SOMETHING. ❜❜ it comes out rather ugly, like she's forgotten the past three months: the sweet 𝒥ennifer 𝙲heck who wouldn't dare hurt a fly– murdered in the span of seconds. but somewhere within those seconds there's a scan of his features by siren eyes, and immediately, she softens like a pup. it's enticing, sultry, almost– OUT OF THE ORDINARY, despite being the exact same expression she's known to always wear.. eyelashes flutter up & a manicured digit drags itself ever so slightly across his seemingly clenched jaw: ❛❛ ─Did ya' come 'cause you missed me reeeeeeal bad.. ? ❜❜

[kasprzaks]

▀ @reknight says, '' ⁱ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈ ʷᵃʳⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʷᵉ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ˡᵒᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵒᶠᶠ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ. '' ▄ ▀

' no- no, not that one, ' eddie blurts out far too fast. ' we weren’t going in there. ' he hurries along the hallway and pulls the door shut with both hands, like it might swing open again if he lets it go. something about the kasprzak household: it's made up of boxes, of magazines, old news clippings, pharmaceutical boxes and medicines kept like collectibles far past their dates. sometimes it's hard to make your way through a corridor without knocking something down. the worst room of all is the one jason's stumbled into after eddie gave a bogus direction to the bathroom.

' it’s just a storage room, ma’s boxes. old clothes. nothing interesting. ' he swallows, breath a little shallow, a little tight. ' if it stays open the air gets bad and i start wheezing, so it’s supposed to stay closed. that's what ma says. '

he rubs at the back of his neck. his ear's burn, even though ma's out at the store. ' it’s not ... i mean, the rest of the house isn’t like that. not that it’s, uh, great or anything, but that one’s just... ' he trails off and his mouth pulls tight. ' she keeps the weird stuff in there. not weird, weird. just old. old and dusty and gross. it’s embarrassing, okay? ' he gives a small laugh that dies too fast. ' i swear my room’s better. and the living room. you just… picked the worst door. ' a beat. his cheeks hot. ' can we forget you saw it? '

[beyondism]

A CONTINUED THREAD    ⸻     original  post  from  @reknight

𝕬S  THE  SEASONS  CHANGED  FROM  WINTER  INTO  SPRING  THE  WEATHER  REFLECTED  AS  SUCH       ⸻   namely  in  just  how  thick  the  air  was  becoming.  It  was  almost  ridiculously  so,  humidity  laying  down  heavily  like  a  weighted  blanket  across  every  single  surface.  Even  through  the  air-conditioned  insides  of  the  Batman  suit  Terry  could  feel  it,  making  the  inner  protected  servos  stick  to  his  skin  in  a  way  that  was  just  exceptionally  unpleasant.  The  sun  would  soon  begin  to  threaten  to  rise  off  the  horizon  making  the  temperature  all  that  much  more  unbearable  so  he  knew  the  both  of  them  needed  to  attempt  to  wrap  this  up  quickly  before  things  got  worse.  Though  on  the  flipside,  Terry  was  almost  looking  forward  to  the  sunrise.  While  it  wasn’t  the  Gotham  City  he  was  accustomed  to,  it  was  still  the  city  he  loved.  The  place  that  had  raised  him,  chewed  him,  broke  him,  spit  him  out  worse  for  wear.  It  was  beautiful  though  all  the  same,  a  piece  of  history  that  he  would  have  never  dreamed  of  being  able  to  experience,  but  was  now  eternally  grateful  for.  Getting  to  experience  the  Gotham  that  he  had  only  heard  about  from  his  friends,  from  his  handler  and  those  he  worked  alongside,  was  an  opportunity  he  wasn’t  going  to  pass  up.

Some  things  would  always  stay  the  same  though.  Crime  never  changed,  it  just  felt  a  little  bit  more  analogue  in  this  day  and  age  against  what  he  was  used  to.  Even  now  as  Terry’s  feet  landed  solidly  on  a  rooftop  a  few  blocks  outside  of  GCPD  post  criminal  drop  off  everything  felt  so  similar.  Different  but   …   there  was  still  that  sense  of  familiarity  that  would  most  likely  never  fully  go  away.  With  a  small  snicker  at  Jason’s  comment  in  reply  to  his  own,  the  bat  stretched  his  arms  out  and  felt  the  rockets  on  the  soles  of  his  feet  engage.  He  shot  off  in  near  silence  through  the  sky,  a  black  and  red  streak  along  the  light  polluted  sky.    ❝  C’mon  man,  don’t  be  such  a  dreg   ⸻   that  shit  at  least  broke  the  silence  a  little  bit.  ❞     Terry  was  nothing  if  not  a  walking  encyclopedia  of  oddities  and  facts.  He  had  collected  weird  bits  of  information  over  the  years  and,  while  a  good  chunk  of  it  had  been  necessary  for  missions  and  patrol,  a  lot  of  it  was  simply  for  his  own  amusement  and  research.  He  had  never  been  much  of  a  student  but  after  picking  up  the  Batman  mantle  he  had  found  his  little  niche.  Something  he  truly  adored.

Terry’s  eyes  rolled  a  little  bit  beneath  the  cowl  as  he  finally  spotted  where  Red  Hood  is  located,  heat  signature  easily  picked  up  by  the  technology  resting  just  beneath.  It’s  with  grace  and  practice  that  he  lands  on  his  feet  right  beside  the  upturned  dumpster,  boots  squelching  a  little  bit  in  the  mud  beneath.  This  really  was  one  of  the  nastier  alley  ways  it  seemed.  His  head  cocks  to  the  side  not  unlike  a  curious  dog  as  he  eyes  the  glowing  green  rock  in  the  vigilante’s  hand.  There  was  something  so  insanely  familiar  about  it,  a  wicked  sense  of  deja  vu  hitting  him  in  a  way  he  hadn’t  been  expecting.  He  takes  a  few  steps  closer  but  doesn’t  reach  out  to  take  it,  instead  just  narrows  his  eyes  as  the  computers  built  into  his  suit  lock  onto  it.  As  he  works  through  information,  compounds  and  make  up,  his  brain  figures  things  out  well  before  the  technology  he  holds  can.    ❝  No  fuckin  way   …   this  shouldn’t  exist  yet.  ❞     Terry  says  in  a  little  bit  of  shock,  hands  moving  quickly  to  pat  himself  down  until  a  clawed  finger  rests  on  a  button  hidden  carefully  alongside  the  crimson  symbol  etched  into  his  chest.  Only  a  moment  or  so  later  that  brilliant  red  slowly  shifts,  altering  into  the  same  unnatural  green  glow  of  the  rock  Jason  held.

❝  I’m  pretty  sure  it’s  synthetic  kryptonite.  Just  an  incomplete  and  crude  version.  ❞     Terry  says  the  words  carefully,  the  glow  in  his  chest  disappearing  after  pressing  the  same  button,  shifting  back  to  it’s  natural  red  state.    ❝  How  the  hell  did  some  lackey  get  their  hands  on  this?  ❞

[bruisedlegacy]

if you die on me , i'm going to be pissed off.

cue a series of ragged coughs, the sound of what could only be described as a laugh mixed into them. " nah, not 'nough ta convince me. " he says, groaning right after. " yer tellin' me ya ain't even gonna ... cry fer me, kiddo? m'wounded. but on the inside now too. "