each life worth protecting

Face Claim: “i’ll survive. you? there are doubts.” rian parker, age 23, right before quitting their high profile job at an elite company. the company went bankrupt within months of their departure. 

Face Claim: “baby, you ain’t seen nothing yet!” poppy parker-quinzel, age 19, right before she threw a dart square in some annoying dude’s ass. 

had may known that the only ways in and out of gotham would be blown to pieces, she would not have agreed to work in gotham. or, at least, she wouldn’t have gotten an apartment in the city and forced herself to drive back to queens everyday. especially now that her office has been overtaken by some gang whose name she didn’t bother to remember. maybelle walks into the gotham city precinct and is immediately pushed further into the busy area. how in the hell does anyone get anything done around here? her eyebrows knit together, shoulders braced and helping to propel through the crowd. she tries her hardest to avoid looking at jim’s office. may manages to find herself in front of another officer’s desk, a relieved sigh leaving her as she invites herself to sit. “hi there, may parker here,” her hand lifts when she introduces herself, then falls back to her lap, a smile easy on her face. he looks too young to be a cop. then again, it seems like all the kids she knows are running around at night with masks and knives. “i need some help.” 

kids these days. may scoffs a laugh in slight disbelief, her head shaking with amusement as she reorganizes her stack of papers. “well you’re very welcome,” she says, shifting her weight onto one side, a fist resting against her opposite hip. she thinks she’s heard this called a mom pose before. may slinks closer, line of sight shifting from damian, to the long gone runner, and back to the young boy. “were you trying to get that guy? he do something bad?” she grins, thinking of how he has the same look in peter’s eyes when there’s a good deed to be done. “may parker,” she finally says, briefly gesturing to herself and not needing an introduction to who he is at all. “you’ve been to some of my charities and vice versa. your family’s done a lot of good for my line of work.” 

may doesn’t try to pretend to understand what barbara and jim have gone, and continue to go through. when she sits at the kitchen table with barbara, she passes a cream pitcher and sugar cubes for tea, and smiles. she does not offer her condolences, does not try to fix anything with useless words. she remembers how it feels to lose people--every time, she remembers. so may doesn’t pretend to know that things get better or easier. instead, she taps her spoon against the rim of her teacup, shaking the excess off. there’s a record playing in the background, something to distract from the wire on the windows and the bodies in the ground. “do you want to talk about what’s been on your mind?” it’s a loaded question, she knows, but one worth asking. 

May: What?

the one and only reason why may took up running years ago, was to convince her nephew that exercise is good for the soul. that was long before spider-man, and even if peter could run laps around may now, she still sticks with it. the crisp gotham air feels sharp and dry in her lungs, beads of sweat forming down her back. she’s on her cool down lap when she sees a familiar red up ahead, pace quickening to catch up. may places a hand on barbara’s shoulder, and grins, the smile lines around her eyes wrinkling. may leans back on her heels, one finger lifted to point at the new mom. she’s teasing with her look before any words can even form. then, with a wry smile, “shouldn’t you be at home with a baby?” may laughs, then circles her arms around her old friend. “god, it’s good to see you. how ya doing, lady?”

“grab some of the garlic--the good ones. see that one, the one that’s real full and round? two like that is perfect!” may has never been known for her cooking. she thinks it’s enough that she’s kept her family fed for over a decade, and maybe not all of those meals have been successful home cooks, but damn it, it will be tonight. she’s a new york native--pizza from scratch is in her blood. she grins at the enlisted helper, pushing their cart down the dairy aisle. “well i’m so glad you and gwen can come have dinner. it feels like it’s been so long!” it hasn’t, but may misses her kids anyways. she never knew she would be the type to miss her kids this much. “how are you two doing, anyway? still taking care of my girl?” 

may is starting to suffer from empty nest syndrome. it’s tough when all her kids are actually grown, off doing heroic things while she’s at home sipping tea. so she throws herself into the busy life of a community organizer, hosting charity after charity with tired arms holding boxes of paperwork and files. may has her head tilted to the left, watching her line of sight from behind the box on top of white knuckles. she pushes in through the front door with her foot, then slips out of her shoes only to notice a familiar pair at the front. “gwen? are you guys home?” may calls out, kicking the door close and coming around the corner. she grins when she sees the young girl, a hand tapping at the box she carries, “you two gonna help your aunt may out? come on, come on, this is heavy!” 

it’s hard to preach stranger danger when may herself has started a small collection of strays. she spots one of them lingering outside of her gotham apartment building, brown paper bag of groceries resting on may’s hip as she observes the girl curiously. her head shakes, amused, like the smile she wears. “nova, sweetheart, you coming in?” may doesn’t miss a beat going up the steps, looking back at nova with a grin, “you know we eat at the table in this house, so if you’re hungry you better come on inside and have a seat,” her back rests against the door, holding it open with her body leaning against it. “it’s pasta night,” and the young girl always looks like she could eat. 

May: Stop going to knife fights altogether. What’s your deal with knife fights?

may takes herself off schedule, much more leisurely in her steps as she leads them down the block to her favorite gotham city coffee shop. “well, still a farther fall than one i could relate to,” she points out with a shrug, the door bell ringing when she pushes them through. she’s only been there a handful of times, but somehow already knows everyone’s names. this is apparent in the way may is automatically greeted by familiar smiles. she returns them, calling people out by name with the same warmth. may orders an americano with room for cream, hip leaning on the counter when she turns to look at tony. “so are you staying in town a while?”