#convo:jim

[atlasxrose]

@jimxmorganx​

Atlas was taking in the day, sourcing out what he could from his home in the forest. Spirits were disturbed, haunting the steps of everyday folk, and when the witch tried to still his mind: that is when he saw him most. So instead he kept himself busy and poured himself into his spellwork, the water witch scavenged through the bramble for moly and thorned flowers, coaxed the magic from freshly unearthed roots and stems. Powdered leaves and dried the hearts of toads over a rack, he worked over his cauldron and whispered words of power over it as it bubbled and turned. 

His intuition told him to give it time, to let his purpose settle in: and so he did, but idle hands were the devil’s playthings. He had been avoiding the city since his vision of Scylla had ended in her death, there was a guilt about him now, what good was prophecy if he was only ever at its mercy? This wasn’t anything new to him, he’d had a conversation with Temira about it only days prior. The future is not always mutable, death comes for all eventually. And, it is the fate of some to die far too young. 

He worked then the fibers on his rack weaving and shuttling the fabric into shape, the witch had a project he had been working on and had just the right amount of time to finish it, he pulled the handmade wool blanket from the rack and folded it neatly. Atlas waved his wrist and lifted some tonic from the cauldron, motioning for it to enter the vial in his hand before he killed the flames beneath his station. The witch made his way to the farm where he’d acquired the wool in the first place, the home of a man he’d come to consider an unexpected friend. 

He was a hunter, certainly, and while Atlas’ mother would probably roll over in her grave to learn he was offering protection to a Morgan of all, he was not so prejudice. This one hunted vampires almost exclusively, and like Atlas, sought to keep Corinth safe for everyone, and apparently that included witches as well. So when Jim Morgan showed up in the Oracle’s Wood, screaming for an audience, Atlas begged the trees part and the bushes split, opened the door and offered what knowledge he could. 

Atlas knocked and then opened the door, the via of magic tucked into his pocket, the blanket made from Morgan’ wool in his arms. “Jim?” Atlas called, “I made you something, enchanted it to. Should help you sleep at night.” It was enchanted, certainly, he’s whispered every word of power he knew, embedded the fibers with care and dedication, when he used it the hope was that it would help him feel calm, relaxed. Comforted. The witch imagined that it got lonely all the way out here.

[kitemanxhellyeah]

@commissionerjg

Opening hours were for losers. 

Chuck needed some supplies to make his Kite-Copter (it was a work in progress, the name was subject to change) and he was gonna pay for the stuff he needed but he’d had a creative binge at 3am and the shop wasn’t open... So he’d got his costume on and flown to the roof and snuck in that way, wandering around the place with a trolley full of random metal pipes, rubber hoses and other paraphilia that he’d need to get this project off the ground, (heh flight pun). 

He was just finishing when he heard the door burst open a familiar voice yelling at him. Chuck blinked a few times before turning around with a huge grin on his face, “Commissioner! I heard you were in town! How’s the family? Seen Batman lately? We were kinda tight back in Gotham.” he said with a sigh, “I kinda need this stuff soooooo can we take a reign check on the whole arrest things this time around? I’ll let you get me next week instead!”

[onehellofalawyer]

@commissionerjg

Foggy gulped, meeting people you were certain didn’t like you (even if it was some weird magical crap that caused it) was never fun. So he’d fallen back on tried and tested methods: bribery and a submissive attitude. How he’d manage to wrangle an appointment with the commissioner was down to calling in a lot of favours and he couldn’t afford to mess this up! Since he was now pretty determined to take on this DA gig he needed the support of the police to be in with a strong shot. 

He knocked on the door and entered with what appeared to be a fruit basket under one arm and a big grin on his face, “Hi,” he said meekly, “Okay! Before you throw me out or just beat me up or lock me in a cell, hear me out!” he added quickly, “I have a gift!” The fruit basket (full of cigarettes a good bottle of whiskey and a few oranges for luck) was presented, “And I need to talk to you about something really important for the city!”

[therapisttothedevil]

commissionerjg‌:

Though it was rare for Jim to have much time to himself to unwind, once in awhile he gave up some of his already-minimal amount to do just that. He’d been set up in one of the only bars open past curfew (legally) for a little under an hour. In that time, he’d watched a young woman down far, far more tequila than he would’ve guessed possible. How she was still standing was beyond him. He kept an eye on her, but not in the same way a few of the other men he’d seen around her were doing. She looked younger than his own daughter, and somewhere over the course of finishing his own beer, he made up his mind that he had to step in.

Jim finished off the rest of his beer and approached her with his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. “Miss, I think maybe you ought to let me get you home.” He was still wearing his badge, more out of habit than anything, but the bar was poorly lit and he didn’t think to announce himself as the Police Commissioner and cause a scene.

Linda prided herself on many things, tenacity, intelligence (most of the time), good looks, and the ability to drink many-a lesser man under the table. The latter was being put to good demonstration right now since she was currently balancing the top of her shot-glass pyramid into place much to the dropped-jaws of the men and woman around her. “Fifteen shots, pay up,” she said with a tipsy grin to the suited gent. Shaking his head in disbelief he nevertheless opened his wallet and dropped five twenties into her hand. “Thanks.” she smirked, “And next time don’t let appearances deceive you.” Linda’s speech was a little slurred but when still managed to spin back to the bar and was debating whether water would be the way to go before she got him... Until a fella came over and spoke to her.

She narrowed her gaze a him, a tipsy grin pulling at her lips, old.. but still pretty hot. And she didn’t mind having a fun time. She hopped off the barstool and tottered on her stiletto heels, “M’good!” she said, holding her arms out and nodding to herself, “Alright Mister, show a girl out.” she said with a wink before laughing to herself.  

@therapisttothedevil

Though it was rare for Jim to have much time to himself to unwind, once in awhile he gave up some of his already-minimal amount to do just that. He’d been set up in one of the only bars open past curfew (legally) for a little under an hour. In that time, he’d watched a young woman down far, far more tequila than he would’ve guessed possible. How she was still standing was beyond him. He kept an eye on her, but not in the same way a few of the other men he’d seen around her were doing. She looked younger than his own daughter, and somewhere over the course of finishing his own beer, he made up his mind that he had to step in.

Jim finished off the rest of his beer and approached her with his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. “Miss, I think maybe you ought to let me get you home.” He was still wearing his badge, more out of habit than anything, but the bar was poorly lit and he didn’t think to announce himself as the Police Commissioner and cause a scene.

[inthenameofnova]

When: Present Day Where: Star City - Outside Police Station With: Jim @commissionerjg

Jihl had been loathe to reenter the city while still healing but was too well now to put it off any longer. Though her shoulder still twinged with the bullet Deathstroke had put into it she walked as though she felt no pain. Dressed to look perfect, as usual, the dress, heels and makeup felt like a kind of armour all in itself as she left the police station.

What had happened with Grayson was still causing her concern and using what little clout she had left and some choice threats, she’d finally managed to get a hold of the police’s files on the incident. There was information here she needed and it was easier to get in person.

Making her way back towards her car she stopped, feeling someone’s eyes on her. Jihl had a gun tucked into her jacket and the weight was comforting as she turned to see who was watching her. “If it’s all the same you I’d rather not have a brawl in the street.”

[evie-calvert-blog]

As she layed nearly lifeless on a pavement she wondered if anyone would notice she was gone. The world around her seemed to consist of blurs of random colors and her breaths were labored. Her face lay against the rough pavement leaving tiny cuts in her cheek. She tried to lift herself up when she realized she could no longer feel her body. It was the strangest feeling, it reminded her when you were about to fall into a deep sleep and were aware of what was happening but could do nothing. She felt hot wet tears making their way down her face. Was she truly destined to die here? Alone in the driveway at some lame high school party in a shit town? 

@legacyfollowed

[lokipats]

Jim?

Hello? You in here?

[kitemanxhellyeah]

commissionerjg​:

It had been weeks since the puppet show and, subsequently, Chuck’s attest and release that had followed it. Jim had been distracted, as busy as ever, but he had not entirely forgotten about the state of him in that cell. Once he’d figured out what had caused the meltdown, the medication had been halted. He’d assumed but never confirmed that “Charlie” had shown back up afterward.

Out of some measure of guilt, he decided to personally follow up. Guilt and an actual duty to make sure that Chuck wasn’t purposefully or inadvertently making the city more dangerous. Jim showed up at Chuck’s apartment, lit cigarette balanced between his lips, and knocked twice. “Chuck Brown,” he called loud enough to be heard inside, “It’s Jim Gordon. Come on and open the door.”

Chuck was mid-way through fixing up his kite-backpack when he heard a knock and a familiar voice calling at the door. He blinked, then grinned, walking though his sorry excuse for an apartment (a rat running by as he went) and opened the door. For once he was out of his costume and instead in a thin long-sleeved tee and ratty jeans. Both looking very worn with more than a few holes in them.

“Hey Commissioner!” his smile not waning as he opened the door, “Wanna come in?” the ‘apartment’ had four rooms, one with an ancient cooker and what passed for a dining space. Two at the back, one being a bathroom and the other where he did his engineer work, and a bedroom that was some folded clothes and a mattress all on the floor. “Thanks for visiting! Charlie’s just washing up but he’ll come say hello soon. Want a drink?” he asked, “Can’t have water from the taps but I got a few bottles around here...” He filled them up from water fountains at the park when he went for walks there.    

@kitemanxhellyeah

It had been weeks since the puppet show and, subsequently, Chuck’s attest and release that had followed it. Jim had been distracted, as busy as ever, but he had not entirely forgotten about the state of him in that cell. Once he’d figured out what had caused the meltdown, the medication had been halted. He’d assumed but never confirmed that “Charlie” had shown back up afterward.

Out of some measure of guilt, he decided to personally follow up. Guilt and an actual duty to make sure that Chuck wasn’t purposefully or inadvertently making the city more dangerous. Jim showed up at Chuck’s apartment, lit cigarette balanced between his lips, and knocked twice. “Chuck Brown,” he called loud enough to be heard inside, “It’s Jim Gordon. Come on and open the door.”

[kitemanxhellyeah]

commissionerjg‌:

Jim had been back on the job for all of an hour, just long enough to get back into his office and leave immediately when he saw the state of it. He’d almost demanded that Grayson fix it, but suspected that it would end up even more of a mess in the process. He’d quickly reprioritzed and elected to tackle one dangling thread that happened to be in a holding cell. Why Chuck had let himself get mixed up in all of it was beyond him, but he meant to find out.

He waved off the concern of the guards on duty, considering he’d not been seen in person since he took the two bullets during the riot, and planted himself in front of Chuck’s cell. “Do you want your lawyer present or are you going to talk to me man to man and tell me what the hell you were thinking, helping that clown?”

Chuck was not doing well, he’d been here a few hours now, spend some of it getting his face patched up (it was very swollen thanks to his nose and his eyes were now red rimmed from crying) but he was all but crying to himself sitting on the bunk in the room now, no energy do much of anything but wallow in his own misery.

When Jim came to the front of his cell Chuck couldn’t quite make him out, raising his head for a few moments to notice there was in face a person there and croak out, “W-where’s my boy? Why did you take my b-boy away? He’s supposed to stay with me w-w-why would you do it? P-please I’ll do whatever you w-want I just need my boy back.” he heaved another sob and continued, “D-don’t hurt him he’ll be s-scared h-he needs his Papa with him, give him back, please p-please...”