This fic is for @almondblossomme who inspired me! I hoped that Oliver would confront Felicity when she got back from her blackmail excursion and we talked about Oliver becoming so upset that he would “release the beast.” Sadly, that didn’t happen so I had to write it!
When he and John arrived back at their makeshift Russian lair from meeting with Anatoly to find Dinah alone, he was surprised. She said Felicity, Curtis and Rory had gone out to take care of some business.
What kind of business could they have? Oliver did not trust this. Something was going on with Felicity and now she disappeared in RUSSIA?
He tried to take a few deep breathes. He didn’t actually know anything was wrong. Maybe she went out to get some mint chocolate chip ice cream - he remembered how sometimes she considered that to be a necessity and if she was working hard to find Col Walker, maybe she just needed food…
No. He knew in his gut she was up to something. At least she took Curtis and Rory with her.
Special thanks to my editor Tori, she’s great, and to every one who read my last fic, and any one who reads this
Rating: T for Teen, blood, violence, fighting
Characters: Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Ra’s Al Ghul
Tim Drake, the Red Robin, rubbed the side of his head, ‘God, I’ve been tracking this shipment all night’.
He checked the homing beacon again. He’d slipped a tracker onto a crate of weapons in the harbor nearly five hours ago. Since then, the trucks had taken tracks all over the city to shake any tail. How he was gonna bust whoever was bringing in military grade firearms into the city, and be home in time for school in the morning, he had no idea. Finally, the dot on the map seemed to settle.
‘Warehouse district’, he thought to himself.
Tim briefly considered calling Batman and dumping this on him; some capes didn’t have day lives they needed to get up before noon for, after all. He dismissed that thought. He’d spent too long proving he didn’t need Bruce on missions to hand off something this easy because he had school in the morning.
Detective Cole Trenton sat at his desk; a red pen dangling between his fingers while he chomped on a plastic toothpick. He was working his way through a case file that had been handed to him by his sergeant earlier in the day; the murder of Richard Roman, Dean of the local college.
Everything pointed to Charles Shurley; a professor of Biblical and Theological studies. He also happened to have adult onset schizophrenia with violent tendencies; see attached file. An assault charge had been filed a week earlier; the professor struck his boss in a heated argument. The accused also didn’t have an alibi for the time of the murder.
yes serena he’s almost there just 1 last battle 1 more plus my dear amour friends she’s the very first female companion to see ash make it to the finals isn’t it a wonderful feeling serena made history now ash win this thing not just for your mother but for serena as well oh how it makes me proud to be a amour shipper *sighs happily* i know you can do this ash we all do especially serena
Okay, so here's the thing. (aka, a love letter to Tim Drake.)
Things the fandom needs to stop doing: casting Tim Drake as the victim, the delicate flower.
There are a few things that have been ensconced into the folds of Tim’s fanon mythology that really irk me. They are as follows:
Tim Drake as The One Nobody Loved
Tim Drake as The Wilting Flower
Tim Drake as The Shy, Stammering Little Twink boy
Tim Drake as The Doormat
Tim Drake as The Constant Self-Loather
I wish I could back this up with comic panels, but that’s not how my mind works. Maybe I can retrofit some in after I’ve written it. But this one, as with my Nu52 Jason vent, is gonna be unapologetically long.
“Welcome to Michigan, fucker,” Mandy smiled, wrapping her arms around her older brother. Since leaving Chicago, she had made a home in Ann Arbor, Michigan, accepting a position in U of M’s nursing program. Her ex-boyfriend Lip had done her the favor of taking the SAT for her, free of charge, as a last minute parting gift for her filling out his college applications. The classes may have been kicking her ass at first but after a few doses of ritalin, her brain was a sponge with all this medical crap. After months of persuading her stubborn ass of a brother, Mandy had finally convinced Mickey to see how the other half lives. “How was the bus ride?”
“Long,” Mickey complained, slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder as they made their way to Greyhound parking lot. “My ass is numb.”
“Yeah, well Ian’s car has heated seats.”
“Remember, from our neighborhood.”
“I remember. How does he have a car with heated seats?”
“It’s a friend’s car he’s borrowing.”
The frozen air stung as they reached the lot. Mandy pressed a button from the car keys and the headlights of Lexus model flashed. Mickey raised an eyebrow as they made their way to it.
“Never would’ve pegged him for the Grand Theft Auto type,” Mickey quipped.
“I was serious when I said he borrowed it.”
Mandy popped the trunk and helped Mickey load his stuff. For some reason she really wanted to impress her brother. It’s not like he exactly had high expectations considering the dump they were raised in. Mandy’s shoebox of an apartment wasn’t much to write home about, but half of it hers which was more than she ever had before. Sure the classes were crowded, the students stuck up, and her landlord was a total prick but she didn’t have to prop a dresser against her door to keep her dad out of her bed or make minimum wage at the Waffle Cottage. At least that’s what she told herself after a total shit day.
Mandy got behind the wheel and drove, letting Mickey fiddle with the presets.
“What have you been up to?” Mandy asked.
“Same old, same old. I’ve been working security at this rub and tug massage parlor on Windsor. Thai place.”
“They give you a discount on handy-jays?”
“Something like that.”
“Hope you’re wearing a raincoat,” Mandy smirked. “No telling where they’ve been.”
“Ann Arbor? That’s where all the skanks live last time I checked.”
“I’d knock the shit out of you if I wasn’t worried about crashing this expensive fucker.”
This was good, normal. Them shooting the shit, playfully insulting each other. Mandy wanted Mickey to know she hadn’t changed even if her circumstances had.
If there was one thing Ian loved about his job, it was the music. The bass heavy techno music he could feel in his bones, loud enough to drown out even the loudest of demons. He knew his body moved effortlessly to the music even if his heart wasn’t in it. It was if it was another Ian Gallagher dancing on a platform. Another Ian Gallagher getting man-handled by guys who thought they could buy him with a wrinkled twenty dollar bill. Another Ian who had nothing else to offer the world except for his looks.
Ian turned in the direction of Jamie, his boss, who was calling up to him. “Your shift’s over.”
He helped Ian down from the platform and helped shield him from the grabby hands of the patrons. They spoke while walking toward the employee locker room.
“Any reason you asked to leave early?” Jamie asked.
“My roommate’s brother coming in from Chicago. She wants to make a thing of it,” Ian explained.
“You know, the patrons have really taken a liking to you. You enjoying it here?”
“Enough. Until I figure out my next move.”
“You better move soon before you find yourself here for eight years like me. What are you thinking of doing?”
“I don’t know. Army, maybe?”
“You can’t make a commitment like that half-cocked. Make sure that’s absolutely what you want before you sign up, all right? But until then, there are plenty of old geezers wanting to stuff cash down your crotch. Speaking of which, how is your boyfriend… Boyd?”
“Lloyd and he’s not my boyfriend. I don’t do boyfriends.”
“Have it your way.”
When they reached the employee locker room, Jamie made his way back to the floor. He was all right, if a little nosy. But he was the closest thing Ian had to a friend nowadays. He spoke to Lip occasionally, but he was busy at the University of Chicago with his own thing. His sister, Fiona, was busy raising his younger siblings and working various dead end jobs. He thought he had needed to get away to find himself bur instead he was more lost than ever before after getting rejected from West Point.
“Twink Peaks?” Mickey raised an eyebrow as Mandy pulled into the parking of nondescript night club.
“Ian works here,” Mandy explained, reaching for her phone from the console. She was busying dialing a number while her brother rambled on.
“What kind of place is this? There’s nothing but dudes…”
He trailed off as he spotted two guys locking lips against against a car not to far from their own. Shock followed by fear then intrigue. Those were the emotions Mickey felt running his veins. He forced himself to look away and tune into Mandy’s side of the conversation.
“We’re in the parking lot… Yeah, Mickey’s here with me. He remembers you from little league… Five more minutes? We’ll be out here,” Mandy hung up the phone and turned to her brother. “You in the mood for Chinese or pizza?”
“Mandy, what the fuck kind of place is this?” Mickey managed to make his voice sound a lot calmer than he felt.
“For fuck’s sake, Mickey, it’s a gay club. Ian’s gay. And while you’re staying in our house, I don’t want to hear the words ‘fag’, 'homo’, or 'fudge-packer’, all right?”
“So long as he doesn’t try any of that shit with me. Unless he wants to lose all of his fucking teeth.”
“Don’t worry, you’re not exactly his type. He likes them old, gray, and rich. This new guy let’s Ian drive this Lexus whenever he’s out of town.”
“No car is worth putting some guy’s dick in your mouth.”
“Speak for yourself,” Mandy said jokingly. “Look, he’s on his way over. I meant what I said – one word and you’re gone.”
“I’m not gonna say anything about your roommate taking it up the ass, all right?”
Mandy threw him a dirty look before plastering on a smile as Ian opened the door. Mickey turned to get a good look at him. He was taller than he remembered, at least a head taller than his average height. His bright red hair had been grown out and sleeked down by gel. He wore a leather jacket over a baseball tee and jeans with one hole ripped in the knee. He climbed into the backseat and shut the door.
“Good day at work?” Mandy asked brightly, reversing the car.
“Made $400 bucks,” Ian shrugged.
“You remember, Mickey?”
“Sure. Good to see you, man.”
“You, too,” Mickey told him.
“So I’m thinking we order pizza and wings.”
“I learned how to make these really strong drinks at club.”
They both looked at Mickey expectantly. “I got about a dime bag of the good stuff.”
Ian took a long hit of the joint before passing it back to Mickey. They sat on the ratty couch he and Mandy rescued from Goodwill a few months earlier. Mandy had been sitting in between them, drinking the Jungle Punch concoction and reminiscing with the boys about their time on the South-side. Eventually, though, she made her back to her room, hoping she wouldn’t be too hung over for her 1:00 PM class.
“What’s in that fucking punch?” Mickey asked.
“You know, rum, sangria, vodka, red bull, and whatever else I could find,” Ian trailed off with a weak laugh. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV. He began to flip through the channels.
“Wait, wait. Go back,” Mickey demanded.
“What? Steve Seagal? You like him?”
“He’s a total badass.”
“It’s all in the ponytail.”
“While yours is all in the eyebrows,” Ian told him. Mickey found himself smiling in spite of himself. Ian took that moment to make a joke at Mickey’s expense. “Aww. He smiles.”
“Fuck off. I smile all the time.”
“I don’t remember you smiling much back in Chicago. I do you remember you pissing on first base during little league.”
“You were there?”
“We were batting for the same team!” Ian said incredulously.
“Not fucking likely,” Mickey snorted.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Mandy told me you were… gay.”
“Oh. Dude, I love this part.”
Oh. Ian acknowledged his sexuality as if it weren’t a big deal. And he didn’t fit all the stereotypes Mickey associated with gay men; he was into action movies, didn’t talk with lisp, and he hadn’t tried to hit him on once. For some reason, the latter made Mickey more uncomfortable than he had liked. Why would he want a gay dude to hit on him? Back in Chicago, if he had even suspected someone was gay he would’ve beat the shit out of him. Now it seemed Ian Gallagher was almost his… friend. Weird.
“So, um, can I ask you a question?” Mickey asked, draining the last of his jungle punch.
“You can ask,” Ian said emphatically.
“How did you know you were into dudes?”
“Well, I’d always been attracted to guys but I wasn’t a 100% sure until I was gay until I let Roger Spiky blow me.”
The spent the next half hour watching the movie, the joint eventually running out and the jungle juice eventually going dry. When the movie ended, Ian stood up, announcing he was going to bed. A few moments later, Mickey heard Ian’s bedroom door close. It was only then that Mickey wrapped the blanket around himself and allowed himself to drift to sleep.
I remember everything little curly boy,the first and your last day with Chelsea, I remember the Champions League in 2012,and your game oh that amazing game,you came from an injury but you were incredible. I remeber the fights,the dribblings, every amazing skill you give to the blues. The fantastic goal against Fulham,the wonder against basel,the Europa league. The good and bad emotions that we spent together. I remember the passion,that passion that made me love you. I could continue,but maybe I’d take too long. Thanks you for everything again and again, I know that’s in or out, but I don’t want to think about win or loose, it’s so much more then this, it’s a boy who is coming home there is no defeat no victory, just love.
Chloe Beale isn’t normally one to be caught off guard. She could name the few times she was surprised by something, like the time when a spider made its merry way down the Bellas’ bathroom ceiling when she entered, or when Fat Amy flashed her vagina to the President. Oh, and when Jesse and Beca entered a relationship, although that’s history now.