@ioniclantern / continued.

irritation creased worn features, as Val vaulted over the other, wrist flicking to extend metal BATON &&. hitting a perp’s shins as hard as she could -- there was no need to hold back, she KNEW they were metahumans. Before more can happen, the detective wrapped a hand around the man’s arm, tugging him to his feet and yanking him to her car. “Get in the car. You RUINED my undercover operation -- now we’re DONE FOR.”

@itsaliving || here

for some reason, she was NOT surprised by Tommy’s reaction, hawk-like eyes taking in the abject horror / a sort of chilling fear that Val was not accustomed to seeing on the other’s face. 

     she liked the smug smile on him far more.

but she would not deny that the sight was enough for her heart to break, a strange cocktail of fondness and sadness that swirled together until Val was dizzy. The detective waits for a few moments until the song is over &&. a few seconds more before she stands in front of Tommy, holding her arms out to take back Hermes who makes a sour face at being taken from the man.

features are neutral, as she goes to unfold the stroller &&. strap Hermes in, mind racing with thoughts as to how to make Tommy feel better. Because Tommy sad was not RIGHT. She looks over and gestures for him to follow. 

the sourness that she had come to associate Gotham with hardly bothers her anymore -- especially since she lived in a pleasant neighbourhood. Val leads them down the street until they stop at a bakery, one that she frequented for their assortment of pie. “They have... good pie here.” She struggles to talk, attempting to find the words that encapsulate everything she feels. It’s alright, I understand. Don’t be sad, please? or you’re not mine, but I promise to keep that smile of yours safe. or I only want you to be happy. Instead she jerks her head towards the bakery, attempting a small smile because that’s what Val could offer. “My treat.”

"god, i wanna cry. i really do."

INBOX STARTER. —— always accepting! || @itsaliving

for a moment, it’s as though her whole world seems to go still, a buzz of her senses as her hand tightens around a mug that she had been drying – hard enough for porcelain to crack. Val sets it down with deceptive gentleness and she has to take a few breaths to calm her mind. Then she turns, the expression on his face enough to break her heart ( even though there should’ve been nothing to break in the first place. ) &&. takes a few seconds to eye Tommy. 

val slings the dish towel over her shoulder &&. pushes herself away from the counter, to stand in front of Tommy and cup his face gentle, thumb sweeping beneath obsidian eyes. For some reason, her heart breaks even further, aching like an unhealed bruise. But sharper &&. more poignant. Val was the type of woman who lived in extremes &&. her reaction was a testament to that fact. “…Why? Did… Did someone hurt you? Have I done something to hurt you?”

she bites her bottom lip, suddenly fearing the answer. “— I’m sorry. If I did something to hurt you. I’m sorry. I always hurt the people I care about.”

it’s strange being in front of Gotham’s infamous Bat, attempting to stare him down from stealing an integral piece of evidence, marching forward to place a hand on the evidence -- gentle to not disturb it, shooting a dirty glare at the vigilante. “I stayed up for the last three days cuz my kid was sick &&. I’ve been investigating this for months. You cannot take this.” It was a deeper investigation towards Bruce Wayne, him rumoured to being connected to infamous mobs in Gotham. Although, interesting enough, Batman seemed to be a lingering figure behind Bruce Wayne. Val stifles a yawn and points a finger. “Get out of here.” / @crimebat liked for a starter!

💋

SEND💋 FOR A KISS. —— accepting! || @thewolveriine

they were kindred spirits, in the way that they lived, in extremes. Everything that they felt was nothing, but extreme – overt displays of emotions that TERRIFIED those who meet them. But neither Val nor Logan cared particularly much, content that at least they had each other – at least there was one person who understood.

      They felt so much &&. suffered so much.

ever since she had entered this sort of life – filled with chaos &&. discord, silence seemed to always be out of reach. A tantalizing promise of Elysium that Val could never grasp; her life ALWAYS muddled by pain, agony, anger, emotions of the ilk. But somehow, somehow, sitting on a bench in Central Park with Logan, amid the bustle of the city life, Valencia found a hard-earned peace. She found peace in Logan’s anger, in Logan’s honesty, in the presence of the other. ENOUGH that she moved, so that their shoulders pressed together – an action that could be perceived as casual, but in reality, spoke volumes. ( ‘You. I trust you. Don’t let me down.’ )

the way a rough smile quirks frowning lips, the expression seemingly foreign on Logan’s lips told her his answer. I got your back, I would rather die than hurt you. &&. that was enough for her. She inhales slightly, long-since used to the acrid scent of exhaust in the air; something UNDENIABLY New York before relaxing – the tension bleeding from her shoulders. 

she was content on sitting there in silence, soaking in the quiet before Logan speaks up. “Wanna head out of this place? I know a place.” Val looks over, blinking slightly before the corner of her mouth curls, nodding.

“Sure. Better be good.”

&&. it was. Being taken to an ice-cream shop, in a secluded place, Logan pulling out a wad of crumpled bills &&. treating her to some ice-cream – the woman scantly able to conceal her delight at the sudden treat. It was nice, having this sense of normalcy. Like she could pretend that she didn’t risk her life on a daily basis. Or that Logan didn’t risk his life on a daily basis. Val was the best sort of liar to herself.

after they long finished their ice-cream and began to walk, Val gesticulating wildly &&. telling stories about her fellow detectives at her precinct – ONLY to stop when Logan leans down to kiss her, sticky sweet lips pressing against her own in a TENDER gesture that paradoxes the mutant’s entire countenance. He curls a hand under her chin, an anchor to ground the both of them, while she STANDS THERE in confusion. Val makes a little noise of disbelief. Logan, kissing her here on the sidewalk near her apartment. Logan, kissing her at all.

logan must have read it wrong. He pulled back, corner of his mouth quirking in the smile he wore when he was unsure what to feel. Who knew in the time that they knew each other; that the quirk of Logan’s mouth made Val’s heart ache. Logan shrugs, “sorry.” It’s flippant &&. lighthearted. Val’s lips tingled &&. she feels as though she’s on the cusp of something bigger than herself. “You just...” The man shrugs again, making a vague gesture.

val’s still shocked, eyes wide before she shakes her head, cheeks turning pink and voice stolen. “Logan.” Is all she manages, reaching up to slide her hand up to cup his cheek. Her thumbs strokes beneath his eyes, as she pulls him down once again. Pressing their lips together, caste and light. Non-obtrusive and affectionate, brimming with an emotion she couldn’t DARE identify. She tilts her head, eyes fluttering shut -- supernovas bursting within her chest.

the detective pulls back, butterflies in her stomach &&. presses her forehead against his chest. “I’m not sorry.”

"What, are you going to arrest me?"

INBOX STARTERS. —— always accepting! || @shatteringwills

grip upon weapon is STEADY, mind clear &&. air leaving body in measured breaths. Valencia NEVER expected to come across the infamous Killgrave, yet here she was – gun trained upon the other. Her body was coiled tightly, strategies flitting through her mind. “Yes. I am.” The woman bites out, although she wishes that she had the CAPABILITY of calling for backup. There was a reason the OTHER was not arrested yet, despite the kill count behind his name. “Hands where I can see them &&. turn around.”

“I want to try this thing I read in a book.”

SENTENCE STARTERS. —— accepting! || @shatteringwills

eyes do not lift from her phone, features illuminated by the light, legs crossed at the ankles. “New recipe?” Val mumbles disinterestedly – to be quite honest, she could give less of a fuck for what Killgrave wanted. The only reason she was around the psychopath was because she USUALLY came across him &&. was forced to stay. “Because judging on your tastes, I don’t think I have the ingredients you want, jefe.”

“Where did you find this?”

SENTENCE STARTERS. —— accepting! || @notintime

she’s clutching the hard-drive in her hand, information on the Flash – Val was sure that the evidence upon people he cared about, people that he knew, would be enough to trace his secret identity. “One of my snitches stole it for me.” Val places it on the table &&. slides it towards the metahuman, gaze calculating &&. almost-cold. “You should be more careful. Just because you’re quick doesn’t mean your loved ones are.”

a smile, a twisted SENSE of camaraderie between individuals who readily gave their lives for others. “You are making MANY powerful enemies, Flash.”

i’m trying to get it all back.

MANIA. —— accepting! || @carolxferrisx

tick tock goes the clock – the drifting sands of an hourglass pinned towards a PERSON’S mortality. Each second is precious, each moment revered &&. Val understands. The need, the desire to push the clock hands back to the times where everything was much more simple. Where death didn’t hold her hand, curling around her form at night, haunting her with visions of a motherless Hermes or a childless Val or KNIVES DRAGGING OVER HER NECK – RED SPILLING OVER CLOTHING &&. MUCH, MUCH MORE.. ALL of which never failed to cause her to sit up in her bed, face contorted in ABJECT horror, sobs choked back behind rosepetal lips &&. sweat slicking scarred skin. 

          it takes her hours to stop shaking like a bitch.

she blinks, fingers digging into her forearms; the pain gratifying. &&. Val looks over to Carol. Her mouth is set in a grim line because Val smiling is something that comes once in a blue moon, hand twitching with the effort to not grab her gun – comfort found in danger. She is not a good talker &&. it shows in the way Val has to think over her words, softening harshness into something acceptable. “Aren’t we all?” Her words are flat, lacking the emotion needed to give proper comfort. So Val reaches forward and… hesitantly places a hand on Carol’s shoulder, dark eyes alit with understanding. “Just look forward, Carol.”

‘ don’t talk. save your strength. ’

*SOFT ANGST. —— accepting! || @carolxferrisx

“Calling the cavalry?” Val’s joke is weak, one hand pressing the wound against her stomach &&. the other curled around Carol’s hand – squeezing PATHETICALLY. She smiles, split lip trickling blood onto her chin. “Carol — Carol, don’t freak out. I’m not DYING. This is normal. I think. Although! Blood is supposed to be inside, NOT outside.” She laughs deliriously. 

attending a Wayne Gala was not necessarily her top choices of spending a Friday Evening; however, her bosses had EXPRESSED concern about the elusive Batman whom they failed to gather information on. Her goal: scope out individuals of interest &&. report back. She’s hovering near the table filled with food, calloused fingers curled around the stem of a flute of champagne. It’s obvious that she does not belong in such an environment, sleeveless dress only accentuating the SCARS that littered her shoulders and arms.

hawk-like gaze flick around, skipping over features &&. jotting down names in a small notebook, which she tucks into her purse alongside her gun. Val lingers for a few seconds, ruby-red lips PURSED, before she moves from her little secluded corner and attempts to MINGLE, ONLY to bump into a body, spilling champagne on both of their fronts. She WINCES, taking a step back, pulling out a white handkerchief from her purse. “Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” 

val lifts her gaze, only for recognition to spark in her mind. Thomas Wayne, the prime suspect for connections with the Batman. “I could...” She wets her lips. “Pay for that.” Her hand makes vague gesture -- internally wincing because that suit probably cost a lot more than a year’s worth salary. /  @thomaswcyne liked for a starter!

‘ you need stitches. ’

HURT SENTENCE STARTERS. —— accepting! || @readyforyours

pain gnashes between bloodied teeth, grotesque mosaic of agony that contorts over BATTERED countenance, as the Detective bites back a hiss. She hears someone talking &&. she deigns to HIDE her weakness; however, she cannot muster up the effort — SAVE for Val struggling to sit up, hand pressed against her wound. “—I’ll get them later. I gotta,” A grunt, as she attempts! to struggle to her feet. “Gotta secure the perimeter, see if any civilians need help.”

the scent of blood was pungent in the air, gagged &&. tied to a chair -- rope digging into her wrists and ankles. Her eye is swelled shut &&. Val was sure that her nose was broken, her pathetic state enough for the detective to regret not having her communicator at hand. &&. she regrets even more than she wouldn’t be able to pick up her baby like this ( seems like the Nanny would have to do overtime ). She’s still bemoaning the fact that she’ll have to pay more before JOLTING at the sound of a crowbar being dragged on the ground -- Val tries her best to sneer because she’s not one to be SCARED by something like this. “Choke on a cock, gringo.” She manages to force out &&. perhaps that’s the wrong thing to say ( of course it was ) because she feels the metal kiss her cheek. Gringos, so obsessed with their baseball.

she hears the air whistle, as the mobster pulls the crowbar back &&. Val braces herself to have her head smashed in. ONLY to startle at the noise of glass being smashed &&. the subsequent punches that sound hard enough to make Val wince. One by one, bodies drop &&. she’s left in the silence of the warehouse that she was dumped in. Her eyes are shut, blood caking her face. “Who are you?” / @daeredevils liked for a starter!

"You’re under arrest.”

SENTENCE STARTERS. —— accepting! || @shatteringwills

his words are enough to startle a laugh from her, eyebrow arched DELICATELY at the other. Val cocks her head in amusement, lips playing with a small smile. “You’re under no authority to do it, Killgrave. But knowing you, you’ll probably boss me around to think I did something bad and blah, blah, blah.”