kingmaker-b

[kingmaker-b]

Abandoned (1)

I really wanted to finish this one, I really did. Though I guess you could probably tell by how much effort I put into the gif itself. Sadly, it suffered from a shift in my writing style and focus. Mainly my realization that while I like media with more physical conflict, it's not translated super well on paper at least with my current skill set.

Word Count: 1.5k

Things had been uneasy in Gotham, turbulence in the sea of crime and violence wasn't unheard of. 

But this... this was different. A raging typhoon had brewed underneath the filth and grime. The death of the bat revitalized the weeds of the dark seedy underbelly, growing, moulding Gotham to their twisted designs.

Rain pelted her shoulders, working into every nook and crevice it could. 

A familiar neon eyesore sears bright in the horizon, the Iceberg Lounge.

Penguin needed a visit

A deep breath as her fingers coil around her grapple hook, something so familiar, yet so foreign.

Was she ready? 

It didn't matter.

Gotham needed a protector.

Her grip tightens, almost forcing a grimace onto her face. Was she worried about living in her successor's shadow?

Surely not. 

Her movements, deft and graceful swooping through the sky, a swipe across her wrist guarantees there are no lights on in the lounge. 

Fear ripples through her as her feet collide with the skylight, her calves tighten as the glass caves underneath her boots and so does her fear.

Her eyes trace the shattered glass as it flutters like snowflakes through the cold crisp air of the iceberg lounge. 

Soft and delicate.

Her cape catches the air at her command and in that instance, she feels the tension and fear hang thick in the air like toxic smoke.

There was a bat amongst them after all.

Rain pours through the ceiling like a waterfall, melting into her tension-filled shoulders. 

They make the first move, but she's already won this chess match of flesh and steel. 

A lunge comes from one of the dissident elements within the iceberg. 

Predictable, wild and ineffective, like a Barnes opening.

As she twists her body she notices one of their friends ready a gun, a flick of the wrist and the call is answered by a Batarang. She catches the lunge with practised ease and redirects him to a more suitable target.

Exhilaration and adrenaline flood her veins like old times sake, yet she tastes something off on the horizon, gunfire echoes through the lounge.

The explosive rattle of clashing metal and wildfire sparks.

Foreboding, as it wasn't aimed at her.

Too focused on her twisting trepidation, a bad move she's forced to reconsider as she's launched over a nearby railing. 

More out of practice than she thought.

Her instincts still honed to a fine edge, her grapple hook saves her. 

A lifeline from a less than ideal landing. 

A groan escapes her lips as her legs collide awkwardly with the floor, pain ripples through her legs, a sensation she wished stayed foreign.

A dull thud echoes across from her. 

A cocky laugh escapes from its owner's lips.

"Should've stayed in retirement," probably accompanied by an annoying cocky smirk. 

Yet something calls to her, begs for her attention.

Anger and rage flare to life flowing through her like coursing red-hot lava.

A cracked flickering bat-signal with a single bloody handprint.

Perhaps the raging typhoon hidden amongst Gotham's filth and grime was her.

Shin Ryujin.

-

You pull your red hoodie over your school uniform, a small comfort against the coiling rain cresting your skin.

A comfort nonetheless.

The last good gift from your parents.

"Yo, Hoodie," Soyeon calls, offering a tenderly lit cigarette, smoke pulling from her lips.

The embers fight desperately to stay afloat in the pool of cold weather and despair.

Concrete and brickwork, your only shield against the incumbent rain. 

Though you preferred the rain over trust fund kids.

Soyeon and her gaggle of cohorts were a weird paradoxical exclusion. 

Money didn't fix screw-up parents after all.

Your hand waves her off, a path best avoided.

She rolls her eyes slightly, taking another drag. Her eyes narrow across the rooftop, a glint of mischief dances in her eyes.

A barely hidden smile.

A lioness on the hunt.

"Gotta say a rebellious streak wasn't on my bingo card."

A shrug rolls through your shoulders, trust fund babies deserved it.

Even if you were technically one now too.

Your tongue scrapes across your teeth, you preoccupy yourself with your phone. 

You just wanted to return to the cave, Nightwing was supposed to train you tonight.

-

Gunshots, spark crackle and bloom against you like the explosive dying embers of the stars in the night sky. They echo and ricochet through your ears like a dull alarm. 

You're almost enraptured by the scattering flecks of metal dancing like fireflies, you had the Bat's last gift to thank for that.

Your relationship had always been tumultuous, your fists bludgeoned the unjust before you, your anger vents with each collision but you know it'll never be enough.

Your fingers itch for the guns at your hip, the easy way. But your mentor deserved respect in their death, something you wished for.

You watch as the last goon crumples before you, a solid hit to the stomach. "Stay down if you know what's good for you."

The sound of shattering glass distracts you before you can earn a response. None of the family should be here.

This was your penance and your burden.

You quickly hit your stride, bounding over and across abandoned tables and stools, you weren't as smooth or as graceful as Jiu, you were used to running through your obstacles.

Another shattering noise sends worry shivering through your spine, Jiu was supposed to be in Bludhaven. Rain poured like a river as you came across the scene, a shattered rail leading into the depths of an abyss.

Voices echo and boom across the scene, and your body aches, wishing nothing more to rampage. Yet you halt in your tracks. 

"Looks like Big Boy got her," a smile blooms across the thug's features. All you can think about is lodging a bullet between his eyes. A primal urge itched at your fingers, abated only by the promise you made. "I didn't realise the original flavour was back in stock."

Anger flares through you, a beast gnawing at its tether. Your teeth grit as a deep breath soothes your lungs, water to cool the fire of rage. 

Your eyes prowled over their forms, planning your assault like links in a chain. 

Twenty goons all up, it wasn't gonna be a fair fight.

For them.

A flash bang and smoke grenade cocktail to get the party started, you're disgusted with the part of you that enjoys being a hunter. 

You dive into the fray, your armoured boots collide with flesh as you land, the sound of broken ribs is hardly a surprise.

One down.

The smoke obfuscates you and every move you make, you'd never felt closer to your mentor than in moments like this. 

An apex predator amongst sheep, you'd found it harder than any of the others to toe the line.

You fire a stray bullet, loosening one of the many gaudy chandeliers.

A whole squad is gone.

You hear the familiar bloom of bullets against your suit, the pain is nothing but a dull echo of what it should be.

Bruises instead of blood. 

Sparks instead of scars.

Minor inconveniences, as you dive into the smoke. You can almost feel their palpable fear as their friends disappear one at a time.

Nothing but echoes and whispers. 

The boom of your boots, a haunting siren of pain. Primal rage etched into every stomp, a beast you desperately fight against.

A flash of fear haunts the last man standing, his eyes linger on your holsters. 

A deep gulp.

A gun levelled to his temple, everything in your core begs for the return of the executioner.

A raging beast tempered against a cage.

Insert line here.

The cage remains strong.

-

Her fingers itch capriciously against the hem of her dress shirt, her father's scoldings ring still in her ears.

The only time they really shared.

Well aside, from the times she donned the mask. But that didn't count.

She chews at her tongue, cornered by Soyeon of delinquent fame.

A small drop in the bucket of ne'er do wells she's washed over. Her fist clenches at her skirt.

"Does dear daddy the commissioner know you're here?" An infuriating smirk lines her teeth, so deliciously punchable. 

Her hands were tied... figuratively of course. It'd be a simple gesture, a right hook to her smug face.

A more becoming smile.

Yet all Ryujin can offer is a weak smile as fingers lock in her hair.

"How about we do the commissioner a favour? Teach his daughter to avoid the rats in the gutter," a scowl etched into her features, her eyes haunted with a twisted sense of pleasure.

Weak without the mask, pain tickles its way through the nerves in her scalp. Her brain shifts, survival mode a must... at least for her father's sake.

She's prepared for more, a blow to the ribs or the stomach, maybe even a hook to the face.

Her eyes snap shut.

Even among the pews of her thoughts, there's a surprise when she feels a shift. With a soft... hesitant release of her scalp, her feet stumble with the sudden adjustment.

A red hoodie, a defiant grip against Soyeon's wrist. 

"Cut it out," your voice is surprisingly soft, delicate even. It cuts like a knife, all the same, leveraged by your soul-piercing gaze.

[kingmaker-b]

Unfinished (2)

Originally, Glimpses Of Us and Heat Waves were supposed to unpack more of Lippie's thoughts and feelings. But thanks to the superior suggestion from @sanccharine to end Heat Waves abruptly with her sudden arrival I ended up cutting this completely. This actually going to be a part of Heat Waves to bring the reader up to speed.

But as a result it removed all of the tension, which would've been boring.

Word Count: 171

There’s a poisoned roll of her eyes, tainted by her own frustrations. It earns nothing but a chuckle from Jinsoul.

“Why the fuck aren’t they picking up?”

Her laughter only deepens, it was a rare sight to see her so unsettled, rattled even. She almost keels over splashing laden glasses.

“I’m guessing your date didn’t go well?” A smile still tugs at the edge of her lips as she drinks.

There’s an almost defeated sigh that leaves Jungeun’s lips. “Like I’ve told you, we’re just friends.”

Each syllable is punctuated, perfectly balanced to stab at Jinsoul with her glare.

“Right, sure, sure.” Still, the tugs of a smile don’t leave her lips, instead widening despite her friend’s attempts. “Because I get that heated when a friend ignores my calls and texts.”

A hint of worry lingers in her eyes, "I thought things were going alright?" 

"Things were alright. We hung out like old times sakes."

"Did you say something?”

"I only asked if they'd promise to be my friend no matter what happens."

[kingmaker-b]

Unfinished (1)

A brief snippet on what the follow up to How do I make you love me? could've looked like. Originally a straight up follow up, I decided against it since it left more things to the readers imagination.

Word Count: 200

There’s a different edge to your apartment, it’s almost unnatural in the wake of Jungeun’s visit. 

Like a broken sacrament.

She strays ever so close to you, a deadly point. You can pick out the small mole just under her bottom lip. 

A part of you vibrates with tender curiosity as she gazes up to you, there’s a swell of fire in her eyes as her eyebrows knit together. 

Her eyes narrow against yours, searching for a hidden truth.

There were plenty to be had, but she would find none.

She offers her hand, a pointed question for her phone.

“Did you look in my phone?”

A smirk tugs at the edge of your lips, played with a fine string, a performance you didn’t expect to play.

Her fingers dance across yours as her phone rests in her palm. Soft, delicate and tender warm.

Still she inches closer with a heated gaze, a spotlight to peel back any mysteries.

“Maybe? Why do you have something to hide?”

Her eyes linger for the briefest moments before her hand snaps like a whip quickly flipping through her phone.

You can see the serious edge slowly falter as she maintains her gaze, there's a twinkle of a smile at the edge of her lips.

“...No”

She slowly melts into a brief kerfuffle of laughter, a spry chuckle.

[kingmaker-b]

Welcome

Welcome to a side-blog I've been musing about for a little while now, basically I'm gonna be posting scenes or drafts that didn't quite meet the final cut or didn't match the overall direction of the fic.

Figured I may as well since I've already taken time out to write stuff that hasn't seen the light of day. Some fic ideas might still get posted but they'll probably go under a complete rewrite.