#devotedecay

"Yeah, whatever,” Anton murmured, voice heavy with booze. His head was rested against the chair’s back and eyes, dutifully, shut -- he looked like he might’ve been asleep -- but Anton spoke as naturally as if they were having a chat over lunch. “What do you think about goin’ out tonight? There’s this place downtown -- real shitty looking, hole-in-the-wall type place -- but they got this Watermelon Voldka. I know it sounds kinda faggy, but, I swear to God, it tas--.” It was the sound of metal on metal that cut him shot, earned the instinctive recoil and brought his eyes snapping back open. Even then, Anton had to stare down at his linked wrists for a full ten seconds before he realized what exactly had just happened to him. Only after did the more appropriate reaction washed over his features.

1 / has robin ever had a near-death experience? what happened, and what did she see, if anything?

yes, more than enough times, actually. it’s a risk she’s accepted the moment she began her side job with thomas — one time in particular, about five years ago, her wounds caused an infection that spread all through her body, a fever knocking her out for almost a week — thomas barely managed to save her, & even then it took her a month to be completely alright again. she can’t remember seeing anything to make her believe in any sort of afterlife, though she did see the faces of everyone in her own personal pantheon of people she’s let down — noelle, mitch, her parents, & wren, her voice singing as an ominous background to each fever-ridden dream of hers.

2 / what was the worst day of robin’s life? did it ruin them, or did she pick herself back up and dust herself off?

november 14th, 2003. a packed church, the last farewell to a good girl, gone up in flames. grieving parents in the front row, & robin at the far end of the church — numb, unable to voice the words screaming inside of her. it’s my fault. i’m sorry. it’s my fault. i’m sorry. so loud, she doesn’t hear a word from the priest’s mouth — she keeps looking around & smelling burnt flesh, smoke crawling from beneath the doors. when she sees a stranger’s head crowned with flames, robin screams — thomas has to take her out by force, dragging her out while she keeps kicking & screaming ‘cause it’s burning, it’s burning, don’t you see ? everything’s burning. she can’t stick around for the burial. she can’t apologize & look noelle’s parents in the eyes. she keeps yelling & kicking until the only choice is sedation: she wakes up in a hospital room, & though everything’s white & sterile, she swears she still smells smoke. ( doesn’t ever truly recover from it, though she tries. she can pretend she’s moved on, but there’s a thick rope still tying her to that day — she’s moved on, but perhaps that moment’s learned how to move alongside her, too ).

3 / has she learned from her past mistakes, or does she continue to repeat them? if it’s the latter, is she aware that she’s repeating them and simply doesn’t bother to do anything about it, or is she unaware of it?

the way she sees it, her biggest, unforgivable mistake has been failing in protecting people, keeping them safe from harm. wren first, noelle afterwards — both sacrificed because robin didn’t know better, couldn’t protect them. she’s lived her life trying to make up for that, constantly sacrificing herself on the altar of hard work & knowledge, doing her best to never be caught by surprise, never allow those stories to repeat themselves again. she’s collected more mistakes along the way, & she’s burning herself up — one day she’ll see, maybe, that she’s just been aiming the fire that burned her loved ones to herself, & all that she’ll be then is just ashes.

continued from x

“ alcoholism is more in the mind of the addict , than in the bottle , actually . ”   argumentative nature toned down for the sake of not making a spectacle of her power , but irrepressible all the same .   she can’t win everything   —   if she can bring him to his knees , he has to be able to use his words .   even just to annoy .      “ you’d be better off likening yourself to heroin . ”

          That is incorrect. Years of research have proven the physiological effects of long term substance abuse, and it’s something Joker has seen first hand-- no matter the substance. She might have corrected him, if he hadn’t followed up his answer with a more addictive suggestion. A crooked smile as she leans toward him, palm of her hand giving a gentle pat to his cheek. “So long as you understand the CONCEPT, I’m not sure it  m a t t e r s.” The smile fades (it was never really real to begin with), and she’s looking at him like he might burst into flame at any given moment, or like maybe he’s already burning. 

@devotedecay​  💜’d this for a starter.

          Mikey must have seen the kid before, somewhere around town. He looked really familiar, but not in the kind of way she was used to-- he definitely wasn’t a member of the Saints, but he could have been someone’s boyfriend or best friend or some other ally. People came and went all the time, not just in the crib but around town, too. Might have even been a customer of some kind. Zimos peddled all kinds of crap these days. Wasn’t just hookers and blow anymore. He was branching out into specialty items. The kid looked kind of nervous, maybe. Definitely fidgety. Might have had one of the energy drinks from the vending machine at the far end of the wall. The Saints Flow logo glowed purple on the painted brick. 

What had been mounting irritation was squashed by the wholly unexpected reaction -- pissy little gripes that Anton honestly had become accustom to ignoring with only a roll of the eyes in response. And he would’ve done it again was the not the very thing Church was moaning about. Honestly, of all the things the little shit had to moan about, this one was surprising.