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December 21st, 2013

[info]i_fear in [info]we_coexist

Ichabod's Ride (Narrative)

Scarecrow was hurting.

Jonathan tried, he truly did, but there was only so much could do to soothe his other, and he knew of only one true release to the figment’s pain.

He just didn’t want to allow it. Jonathan was desperately trying to keep things in check, to keep his life in check. He liked having Arkham and being in control, he liked being free. Yes, Blackgate was a joke and he could get out easily, but in doing so he would lose everything else he had.

But Scarecrow was still hurting and he was going to explode if Jonathan didn’t do something soon.


Scarecrow stood in front of the mannequin that held his costume, running a hand lovingly over the worn, oiled leather, before he started stripping, shedding the outer illusion of a good doctor, carefully pulling on the padded shorts that were required for a life such as his, before stripping the mannequin, slowly, as carefully as one would a lover, wiggling into the outfit that felt like his true skin.

He latched the last golden frog on his doublet, gently tugging it down before grinning, the smell of the leather, the oils...the hayseed scent that still clung to the fabric...all of it was home to him.

Ichabod's Ride )

[info]i_moderate in [info]we_coexist

Repercussions (Crane)

The City was tired.

It knew who it had within it when they came, and knew the destruction and chaos caused...but there were lines, and the torn man has crossed them. There had been deterrents, gifts given to the man in hopes that the Asylum and it’s inhabitants could distract Crane, keep his madness contained, there had been threats, the looming fortress that was Blackgate a reminder of what could happen.

But neither of those had worked, and now The City’s citizens were paying the price.

The City was not without resources, and while even Blackgate didn't seem like a reasonable response to Crane killing people, it still had options, and so it reached out, the world shifting, shaping around the man, keeping him contained as The City routed the injured and dying to safety, landing them outside the hospital.

It was time for a firm hand.

[info]i_crylikeabird in [info]we_coexist

Another year, another spat (Dinah/Dean, TBC in comments)

Once the planning was underway for her new costume, Dinah knew that it was time to go home and explain things to Dean. She wanted to check on Zoe too, but she couldn’t keep this secret any longer than she already had. It wasn’t that she’d intended to keep the fact that she’d had to have the Hulk come and help her dodge bullets. It was just that she’d wanted to do something about it before she told Dean. She knew that he wanted her safe and she wanted to be able to show him that she was doing the best she could. She also really didn’t want him to worry. Sure, she knew that that sort of thing came with the territory, but at the very least she didn’t want him worrying more than necessary.

She let herself into their apartment and looked around to see if the man in question was home just yet. The apartment itself wasn’t quite as festive as the previous year, though she had made sure that they had a tree. She’d been cautious about putting up much else in the way of decorations because last year she’d been overcompensating in an attempt to keep her mind off Jake’s absence. And it had backfired, really. Taking everything down after Dean had decided to go off hunting hadn’t been that much fun.

She couldn’t help but worry that this year might be a repeat of the last year. Then again, he’d returned not too long after and that had been the first time they’d actually exchanged ‘I love yous’ so it hadn’t been all that bad in the end. Still, she hoped that this conversation went better than the reveal about her talk with Eric.

We wish you a merry threadmas... )

[info]i_moderate in [info]we_coexist

A Christmas Wish

By now, The City had watched many of its denizens celebrate this thing called 'Christmas' and it was beginning to understand it better. It was a time for fir decoration. A time for singing songs. A time for creamy or apple flavored beverages. There were also presents.

The presents were the most interesting things to The City. It understood that the presents were designed to be special. To be meaningful. To express care. And The City did care about its people. Very much.

This year, it decided that it would participate in this 'Christmas.' And it wanted to participate in a big way.

A Douglas Fir sprung up overnight, positioned in the heart of The City. It was huge, dwarfing most multi-level buildings, bedecked in oversized copies of the decorations that previous and current citizens had used on their own trees. The Christmas star dwarfed the moon in its brightness.

But what to do for presents? The City had seen that presents were supposed to be personal. They were supposed to be something that made sense for one to give to the other. But The City did not know how to give presents in this way. It tried to calculate what would be right for every citizen - and failed. At last, it decided that it would grant one wish to each citizen. Just one. And it would do its best to fulfill it in a personal way.