vahital: (Default)
the man and his monster. ([personal profile] vahital) wrote in [community profile] bakerstreet2019-05-30 06:41 pm

picture prompt meme




the picture prompt meme

— Comment with your character and any preferences.
— Others will leave a picture (or two, or three...)
— Reply to them with a setting based on the picture.
— Link to any pictures that are NSFW, please.
— Be aware that this meme will be image-heavy.

success_story: (no one's ever happy or sad for very long)

[personal profile] success_story 2019-08-29 06:29 pm (UTC)(link)
"Also true," He agrees, but not without another eye roll. Damian can catch that one. "I was almost a lot worse.

"You saved me. You saved my life."
bloodson: (but you makin' me.)

[personal profile] bloodson 2019-08-29 08:40 pm (UTC)(link)
“Yes, well. We’ve been over this.” Blah blah no one gets to dismember, eviscerate, defenestrate or shoot you except me — ignoring the fact he no longer actively desires any of those scenarios. Usually, at least. Damian chalks his attitude change up to just not caring anymore, ignoring the fact his actions don’t back up that claim.

Another attitude change: Drake is the first person to offer validation for his efforts, and in his own cagey fashion, Damian eats it up. Finally stands, shoves his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt and meanders over to the hospital bedside.

“Certain third parties disagree.” Not naming names, not even flicking his gaze upwards. “And seem to think that if I hadn’t forced their hands, you wouldn’t have been shot. Ignoring the fact it was six on one and weapons had already been drawn.”
success_story: (dipping my toe in the water)

[personal profile] success_story 2019-08-29 08:51 pm (UTC)(link)
A smothered snort, eyes dropping as he tests the mobility in his arms, how bad it hurts to try to sit up without the support of the bed. Turns out, he'd rather lay back. "I was gonna die even if they didn't shoot me then. Even if they didn't shoot me."

It's easier to talk with Damian moving closer. He can be quieter, which aggravates less, which lets him go on a little longer. "He'd be easier on you if it wasn't before. Or if we were ever not--fighting. I see how it looks. Like borrowed trouble."
bloodson: (and you are more like vodka punch.)

[personal profile] bloodson 2019-08-29 10:38 pm (UTC)(link)
"As if our entire careers don't consist of making other people's troubles our own. And we haven't been fighting for months, though that is predominantly because you are a coward and an idiot." Yeah, that disappearing trick you pulled post-church incident? Noted and disapproved of.
success_story: (Default)

[personal profile] success_story 2019-08-29 11:05 pm (UTC)(link)
His gut turns, and it isn't from pain. "A coward hiding from you. My self-preservation instincts have to kick in at some point." Is it possible to be mean and aimless at once? He's had plenty of practice being mean. Maybe you just get the ability after a while.

Aimless and repentant--that has to be something, too. "...I couldn't see how I was supposed to talk to you. After what I said. After what I did."
bloodson: (found you shaking like a leaf.)

[personal profile] bloodson 2019-08-29 11:19 pm (UTC)(link)
It's as easy to be mean as it is to be unflappable. Or at least pretend in the face of comments that sting ever so mildly. Damian's mouth presses into a thin line, but he fights to keep any other measure of displeasure from his face. Self-preservation was... fair. Despite how good his intentions had been, he'd tried to carve Tim up like a turkey. As for the rest, the subsequent wallowing...

"I got over it." A statement accompanied by a shrug, as if it were as easy as sweeping dust under a carpet. Shoving a bad memory into the back of the closet and ignoring the fact he still had nightmares about rabid dogs and a brilliant scar across his hip.

"You can be over it too now."
success_story: (they were just easy lies)

[personal profile] success_story 2019-08-29 11:30 pm (UTC)(link)
His eyes and one side of his mouth come up, loose. "...That easy? Just...now we're over it?"
bloodson: (what we're doing here ain't just scary.)

[personal profile] bloodson 2019-08-29 11:52 pm (UTC)(link)
A moment of consideration, the flaring of nostrils and a tight sniff. But if Drake’s asking it as a question and leaving it up to Damian to decide...

“Yes, we’re over it.”

They’re close enough now, and he understands enough to know this is a high emotional hurtle. And if they’re striking a deal to be done with that past trauma, a proper deal, it’s to be sealed with a business-like handshake. The hand Damian extends is pocket-clammy, but steady.
success_story: (and promises are easy)

[personal profile] success_story 2019-08-29 11:59 pm (UTC)(link)
It's probably because he's still got open wounds. Because Damian doesn't have Bruce now and needs someone on his side. Because Tim looks pitiful--must be pitiful to get himself into this situation. There's lots of reasons for Damian to do this. Honestly, though, Tim will take any of them over keep this noose around his neck.

He reaches across his body with a wince and a determined breath out to meet Damian's hand. Like everything, it hurts. Unlike most of this, it seems worth it.

Grip snug, Tim holds onto him for a few extra second. "So. How far are you into the bitter period? Maybe the--piss the old man off stage?"
bloodson: (fuck that i can do anything.)

[personal profile] bloodson 2019-08-30 04:10 am (UTC)(link)
A long handshake, drawn-out a scant few seconds extra because it feels like this means something. Not the sudden and unflappable friendship that most of their mutual acquaintances seem to be holding their breath for, but at the very least they can be back to a baseline normal with an ounce less aggression. Damian doesn't break the hold until Tim's fingers relax and then his hands go immediately back into his pockets. But he takes up residence in the companion chair shoved over to the corner of the medical suite.

"Not just yet." The closest he'll come to an admission that he's wallowing. Just because it doesn't feel like Bruce is in the right doesn't mean his disapproval cuts any less deep. The quiet care and protection from Pennyworth is one of the few things preventing a full out teenage rebellion, but even that is a short-lived stopper against an ocean of impulsive action.

"I'm sure you have suggestions for when I reach that inevitable crossroad, though."
success_story: (it was in your eyes)

[personal profile] success_story 2019-08-30 02:58 pm (UTC)(link)
"I was kind of hoping I could leverage it into help getting upstairs. Out of the--fucking cave." It's a good time to try sitting up again, this time leaning to the side of his hip that isn't still under construction. "Every time I ask Alfred, he hurries me to--my next dose--ah."

The chest tube, clearing his lung of fluid as it recovers, is hooked to a depository bag, soundly secured to the surrounding equipment. Tim scowls at the setup--but he really can't go anywhere as long as it's still necessary. "...How long has it been, anyway?"
bloodson: (think i know i've got a hunch.)

[personal profile] bloodson 2019-09-01 12:44 am (UTC)(link)
"Five days. You're out of the immediate woods, but could still die." Blunt and to the point. Blood clots, fever, or one wrong cough compromising the integrity of the healing lung puncture all still pose real and very immediate threats. "No one will relocate you very far from the crash kit."

Not to mention Tim looks rough. But stubborn recognizes stubborn, and Damian offers neither assistance in sitting up nor fussing about how he really shouldn't push it. He looks away from the struggle under the guise of giving Tim some privacy, to the stack of books and other bland methods of self entertainment. "If you want something else from upstairs, I'll get it for you."
success_story: (no one's ever happy or sad for very long)

[personal profile] success_story 2019-09-03 07:17 pm (UTC)(link)
He sinks back into the cot as he hears no one, eyes following Damian's to the things Alfred has brought down. He only hesitates for a beat before asking for the thing that's on his mind, that has been explicitly denied him: "Do you know where my phone is?"
bloodson: (don't know what's inside of me.)

[personal profile] bloodson 2019-09-03 08:31 pm (UTC)(link)
“I didn’t notice a phone anywhere on your person when we found you.” Not that he’d spent a great deal of time looking at floors or furniture for a smartphone, a little too focused on kicking ass to play detective. “Did you take it out on your patrol?”
success_story: (dipping my toe in the water)

[personal profile] success_story 2019-09-03 08:51 pm (UTC)(link)
"It should have been with me." His gut twists at thinking it might be gone. He closes his eyes and counts to five against the sick feeling, explanation rattling out: "Uh--it's--encoded, it's not like anyone is getting into it.

"Even the police." Who probably have it now, if anyone cleared up the crime scene. "Did the cops clean up? Or Bruce?"
bloodson: (and you are more like vodka punch.)

[personal profile] bloodson 2019-09-05 03:12 am (UTC)(link)
"The police dealt with the rest of the building." That much he'd been able to follow before being locked out of the computer. A SWAT team had stormed the building shortly after they'd left, had scraped a good handful of Black Mask's distant lackeys off the floor, but a few more had collected their wits and fled into the night. It was a relatively small bust — they'd no doubt taken note of the blood on the floor, but hadn't heard so much as a whisper that it belonged to Red Robin.

Thinking about it makes Damian tense, grind his teeth. The diameter of that pool of blood had toed across the line from alarming to panic. Splatter from Five had probably hit the ceiling. Shoulda killed'm.

"Father was...preoccupied. Here." From the confines of his sweatshirt pocket comes whatever the latest generation of iPhone is, flop-tossed unceremoniously onto Tim's lap and Damian moves to sit in the nearby companion seat, dragging the notepad and pencils along with him. "If you've calls to make, make them before he gets home."
success_story: (it was in your eyes)

[personal profile] success_story 2019-09-06 03:23 pm (UTC)(link)
It isn't a perfect solution, but Tim seizes upon it anyway. Damian's warning instills a sense of urgency that doesn't quite make it to his clumsy fingers, but he makes quick work of finding a chat server he can use without confusing anyone over Damian's number. Sure, someone tech savvy could trace it back to Damian, but he and Damian are the tech savvy. Tanya might make the effort of finding him, but if nothing's happening, it shouldn't be an issue. 

He glances up to Damian over the composition of what amounts to an "I'm out of the office" message. "Is he ignoring you? Or just playing Stepford about the job?"
bloodson: (fuck that i can do anything.)

[personal profile] bloodson 2019-09-06 06:25 pm (UTC)(link)
He’s doodling idly, allowing Tim a sort of reserved privacy to get his dealings in order. Won’t even reverse password break that chat server later to read his messages. Probably. Between pen and paper blooms a shadowy silhouette of a pine tree, and Damian has moved onto a sketchy moon and little pencil dots of stars by the time Tim speaks again.

Not looking up, mildly smothering a snort. “I’m grounded and he’s still working, so. The ignoring is mutual.”