#{starter!}

After testifying to congress about the Isla Sorna incident, Alan and Ellie were now left to figure out what was next for them. Had you told Ellie six months ago she'd find herself in Alan's beat up truck, snuggled up against him as he drove them to a cabin they rented to "get away," from everyone for the week, she would've told you that you were mad. But as she rested against him, watching the cities turning into acres and acres of forest, she couldn't imagine herself anywhere else.

Scott was in a word, grateful that the awards ceremony was over, that now he could drink, text Kip, and just have a break from the firestorm of his own creation. He had no regrets coming out, far from it, he was finally living as his true self for the first time ever and there was no going back. But it didn't mean that the side eyes and whispers from those who used to support him didn't get under his skin from time to time.

For the most part, the team had been overwhelmingly supportive. And those who may not be so inclined, they had to deal with Carter giving them hell. But even though Scott had taken those first steps, the league as a whole had a long fucking way to go to really make their LGBTQIA members feel welcome.

Pierre beamed as he leaned across the others work bench, pulling his attention away from his plants for the moment as he propped his chin on his folded hands.

"Hey~" He cooed while reaching into his fluff to show the other the hotel key he was now wearing, on a chain, around his neck.

He knew he had told the other he was joining but it had been a while since he'd seen him so, he wanted to come by and show Joshua, he was still alive and was, in fact, staying at the hotel.

"Now, before you say anything. I'm not doing this for a job. I am actually joining the hotel for me so, anything you say had better be nice about me, specifically." Pierre snickered as he reached out to hook a finger in the birds collar, pulling him closer to get a kiss.

“BATMAN TURNS KILLER—VIGILANTE JUSTICE GONE TOO FAR?” “THE BAT STRIKES: THREE DEAD IN ONE NIGHT.”

Every newsstand, every glowing monitor in Gotham Square carried the same story. Three men—low-level criminals, caught red-handed—were found sprawled across the city last night, bodies broken, breathless, and cold. The medical examiner hadn’t released details yet, but the word expired hung heavy, a euphemism the press didn’t bother dressing up.

Gotham was eating it alive.

Crowds outside the GCPD chanted in split chorus: half demanding Batman’s arrest, half cheering him on as the city’s real judge, jury, and executioner.

Norrington let out a dry, aristocratic scoff as he passed a newsstand, the bold headline screaming back at him. He plucked the paper up, scanning the sensationalist drivel before tossing it aside with a disdainful flick. “Three corpses and they think their caped crusader’s grown fangs overnight,” the posh British vampire murmured to himself. Batman scorned for James’s own handiwork. The city bristled with outrage, while its true predator walked unseen among them, hunting at leisure.

Adjusting the fall of his coat, James inhaled the night air, keen ears attuned to the frantic thrum of a heartbeat not far off. Already beginning the nights hunt. With a little luck who knows? He could run into some mastermind to devour.

Só não se sentia mais deslocado, porque sabia que havia muitos outros de seu prédio por ali. Não era um evento para as natas, mas uma adaptação ousada. Talvez, assim como ele, muitos não fossem ter outra oportunidade de se vestir daquela maneira e presenciar aquilo tipo de atmosfera - Yoonhak poderia não ser o maior adapto ao ar de amor, mas gostou de lembrar de filmes e poesias. Sem querer, até pintou um sorrisinho ladino para ninguém enquanto observava e reconhecia uma pessoa ou outra por ali, mas foi um sentimento um tanto mais pesado que o fez querer sentar. Precisar, melhor dizendo. Sentiu tal sentimento subir por seu peito e alcançar a garganta em um bolo de saliva que tentou fazer descer virando o resto do vinho verde. Em busca de um lugar mais vazio, fisgou mais outra taça na bandeja que passava no meio do caminho, e suspirou fundo. Era o tipo ruim de nostalgia aquela que o consumiu quando sentou-se em um dos degraus do teatro ao ar livre do centro.

the   city..   clung   to   him.  its   grit   and   shadows   woven   into   the   very   fibers   of   his   being.   she   studied   him   for   a   moment,   her   smile   softening.   "this   isn’t   for   gotham,"   she   said,   motioning   to   the   glowing   sigil,   its   light   bathing   them   both   in   a   quiet   glow.   “it’s   for   you.   a   small   gift.”   she   took   a   step   closer,   and   the   air   between   them   shimmered   faintly.   "i   know   you   carry   this   city   on   your   back,   bruce.   but   even   the   strongest   need   to   dream   sometimes.   just   one   moment   where   it’s   not   all   shadows   and   fire."   the   sigil   pulsed,   each   wave   of   illumination   moved   like   a   breath   across   the   rooftop,   stretching   outward   in   gentle   arcs.   the   glow   brushed   against   the   cracked   concrete,   warming   the   cold,   lifeless   surface   as   though   coaxing   it   awake.