#strongwiilled

“hey, mister? are you a cop?” rowan asks from where she’s sat in cuffs in a plastic chair, sporting a black eye and a dried bloody nose. if she tries, she can get out of the cuffs, but it doesn’t seem to be worth it. “do you know when the desk sergeant will be back? i’m really not the person who should be in these cuffs, thought i should let him know.”

Of all the surprises that Gotham had ever delivered, the evolution of Lee Thompkins, from the humble medical examiner with the GCPD to an unmerciful Queen of the Narrows was one of the most surprising. The very woman who’d believed in such good intentions.

Now she was just as corrupt as anyone else in the City. 

“You’ve developed quite the reputation Doc.” Oswald mused before shaking his head and giving a roll of the eyes. “Charitable as it may be.” It’s a weakness; the charity she’s so keen on expressing. Giving out handouts to the Narrows; robbing banks and eluding the GCPD to play Robin Hood. Getting Ed all wrapped up in her heroics.

“You don’t smell like a human to me,” the shapeshifter growled, her form pacing as she made the sound of the well-known hyena laugh. “So confess, because otherwise, you’re a liar, and I don’t like liars; they’re a serious threat to me.”

for- @strongwiilled

          they hadn’t so much as exchanged names in their           bar small-talk. it just isn’t courtesy of stranger           interactions. but she wasn’t exactly shocked when           he was able to identify her by name - considering            who she was, after all. so sofia smirked, fingers still            clutched around his jacket.                        ❝     i’m used to getting what i want.    ❞

“Mmhm,” Katherine hummed in melodious confirmation, turning to the good doctor with narrowed eyes and a knowing smirk. “We don’t drain our victims every time.” There was no point differentiating between herself and whoever this new vamp was; Katherine was hardly innocent and was known to kill her own victims when it suited her, and she didn’t want Lee under any wrong assumptions.

“Uhm------ about the Labyrinth?” There’s the cadence of surprise and a certain sprinkle of disbelief. The answer is pretty obvious, at least to Sarah. “People would think I’ve lost it. Can you imagine if I tried to explain the existence of an entire other realm? They can’t handle knowing the Goblin Kingdom exists, or worse, that all these magical beings are real!” She laughs easily, a pure sound, but then a little bit of sadness creeps in. “I wish I could. I don’t like hiding it.” A frown. Sometimes she barely understands how Giselle can be so open about being from Andalasia, a literal fairytale world, and how her red-haired friend has yet to run into trouble for it. She supposes it’s because of Giselle’s endearing charisma; people do think she’s peculiar, but they don’t care. Still, Sarah isn’t ready to tell the world about the Labyrinth, nor is she sure it’s SAFE to do so. “Even if someone believes me, that might end up being worse ... I would hate to put the Kingdom in danger. Nah, best keep it all secret save for a few friends.” 

(late nights starters || always accepting

He paces back and forth, hands balled up into fists. “Mistake? MISTAKE? Somebody’s dead and you’re calling it a mistake?!” Words are flying out of him fast, angry, loud. Rage and frustration have gripped the usually mild-mannered Norman and he whips around to face the other man, his index finger jabbing the air toward Sylar. “This is your fault. She was innocent, and now she’s dead!”

A body lays lifeless on the pavement, the cut to the forehead that exposes the brain a tell-tale sign that the murderer is Sylar. Thank goodness he did it. It couldn’t have been me, I’d know, I’d remember. I could never...

“Ahhhr!” A frustrated yell rips out of him.

“What is WRONG with this town? No matter what we do, someone always ends up dead!!” He can’t tell his mother, no, she’ll worry too much and she has enough on her plate. Norman doesn’t want to turn Sylar in, either ... he knows the serial killer has been trying to do better and he deserves a chance. His eyes well up and he faces the guilty man, the anger deflating into fear: “What are we going to do?”

(glados lyric starters || always accepting