#glimpseddarkness

                 “i dunno. i used t’ be esau stone. now ‘m-- - eliot spencer. but some days that don’t feel right either. ‘m different, i think. than who i used t’ be. ‘m just eliot now but-- - sometimes i think about what bein’ eliot spencer used t’ mean. sometimes it still means ‘m a murderer. sometimes it means ‘m a killer an’ a bad man, an’ someone t’ look out for. sometimes it means ‘m helpin’ people. ‘m doin’ th’ hard things t’ help people. i dunno ‘f any of that makes sense, or answers your question-- - i dunno. i think a lotta th’ time ‘s gonna take me a long time t’ figure that out.” who is he? how is he different? what does he stand for? he hated that he wasn’t sure.

   “Love some, Angel.” the demon grinned, making himself comfortable on the frankly hideous couch in Aziraphale’s back room. ( despite its appearance, Crowley secretly loved this couch. It was in his top three favorite places to nap on a warm day. Though he’d sooner tie himself into a knot then tell the angel this ) “Have you got any of that Chateau Lafite left?” he enquired, snakeskin boots ( at least they looked like boots ) rising to rest on the ratty coffee table, atop one of the many books littered about its surface. “Or did we finish those off that night we went to that all drag show of Midsummer Nights Dream?” what a blast that night. 

             eliot grunted as nightwing helped him up, grateful to leave the sticky pool of his own blood drying on the concrete. “you shouldn’t have.” but he’s grateful. so grateful. he squeezes at dick’s arm, taking a moment to steady himself. “but thank you. for comin’ for me.” he’d have to pay him back. somehow. dinner, maybe. “come home with me? i don’t-- - i can’t drive. my eye’s sealed shut... please?” it’d been a while since eliot’s had his ass kicked like this. he was worried that maybe he’d actually not make it out this time. but there he was. being propped up by an angel, of sorts. 

“I’m not upset, just a little stressed. I’ve got lots to do, but thanks for stepping by. As you see there’s nothing here to do, I’ll see you on patrol.” As he spoke, he tried to lead Dick towards the front door, wanting him to leave his apartment, but he also knew that if Dick didn’t want to leave, this would be a nearly impossible task.

@glimpseddarkness

       there was a reason that eliot tried very hard to keep himself from sleeping more than ninety minutes at a a time. this was one of them. because dick had him pinned to the floor with an increasingly tight grip on his wrist that persuaded eliot to let the blade go in not so nice terms. it clattered to the floor and eliot’s breathing finally calmed some. “fuck… ‘m sorry. ‘m sorry– -” it wasn’t often that eliot let himself feel comfortable enough to actually sleep. he supposed part of it had to do with the fact that they were at his apartment. he always felt a little safer there. he knew where he kept all of his knives. even in his sleep, apparently. eliot stopped struggling under the weight of the detective and let himself settled against the floor. “i’m sorry– -” but sorry didn’t fix that he came at grayson with a knife. even if he was asleep, he still did it and sorry didn’t fix it. in an instant, all the fight left eliot laying on the floor, limp and relatively harmless, for now.@glimpseddarkness

 @glimpseddarkness

『 🔎 』        “Have you been FOLLOWING me???” Nancy asked, completely ignoring the berating she was getting from the other. “I’m just doing my JOB,” she then added firmly, scrambling to grab her phone from the ground, which was now shattered at the screen. I knew I should have put a case on it, she thought to herself before turning her attention back to the man in front of her.