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dauntless-gothamite · 1 year

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Master of Shadows [1/?]

Fandom: DC (Nolanverse; Batman Comics) Pairing: Bane x Fem! Reader Summary: You are a tailor that works for Oswald Cobblepot, also known as the Penguin, who tasks you with making clothes for the abnormally large man who has recently arrived in Gotham, Bane. While working with Bane, you see an opportunity to escape the Penguin, something you have wanted for years, and if you play your cards right, you may just gain your freedom and bond with the handsome man in the mask along the way. A/N: working on another series before finishing Prove Them Wrong is a terrible idea, but I haven’t been able to get this story out of my head. In later chapters I may attempt to write smut for the first time (chapters will be marked as such if there is smut included and I may add *s so people can skip over it, but I’m still undecided on that at the moment).

“Shit,” you swear under your breath as blood pools in a bubble on your skin, painting the finger you’d just pricked with a needle a warm red. You weave the needle into the fabric and leave it dangling before standing up to search for a bandage and curse the Penguin for the millionth time that day. You walk across the room to where the first-aid kit hangs on the wall from an old, rusty nail, take it down, and rifle through the supplies, tossing aside painkillers, tweezers, a thermometer, and sterile gloves, heart sinking as you realize you didn’t replenish the gauze and band-aids after the last time you’d accidentally hurt yourself. With a groan and much internal dread, you exit the room and descend the creaky wooden stairs to search for a band-aid.

At the bottom of the staircase, just as you’re about to dart into the bathroom down the hall to the right, the doorway to Oswald Cobblepot’s office swings open, revealing your boss, dwarfed as he stands beside someone you had never seen before. The first thing you notice about the unfamiliar person is how big they are; their arms are bulging with muscle and you could see his thigh muscles straining against his cargo pants. The second thing you notice about them was the mask covering the lower half of their face and the slight metallic hiss it seemed to make.

You’re about to tell your boss you’re only down here to get a band-aid, but he speaks first. “Aha! If it isn’t just the person I was hoping to see!” He beckons you over to his office and leads you to one of the plush velvet chairs in front of his desk before walking around to sit behind it. “Take a seat. You too, big man,” he says. The man he’d been standing with before you’d entered the room sat in the chair next to you, and the chair creaked with the effort of supporting him. “This is the tailor I was telling you about!” Cobblepot says, pointing to you with a wide smile. “She makes all my suits, which is why I’m the most dapper man around!” You immediately freeze in your seat. If Cobblepot is acting excited about anything other than a visit from his beloved Edward Nygma, it was most certainly bad news, and as much as you want to stay far away from whatever “it” is, it seems like you’re right in the middle of it.

“Y/N, meet Bane,” Cobblepot says with grandeur. You look at the man sitting next to you warily. “Bane only just arrived in Gotham last week, and as the king of this city, I like to know who the big players are, and I think this man is going to bring something new to Gotham that can benefit my circle of friends and colleagues greatly…well I suppose it would be more accurate to say he is going to remove something from Gotham.” Bane nods curtly and crosses his arms, clearly growing tired of the Penguin’s little speech. “Alright, so now to the point of you, little tailor. Well you see, Bane here is a large guy, he has some trouble finding comfortable clothes. So I need you to take his measurements and make a few things for him; I’ll let him specify what they are exactly.” Cobblepot stands and makes for the door to escort you and Bane out of his office, but you don’t move. “Y/N, don’t keep me waiting!” Cobblepot snaps.

Crossing your own arms as you rise from the chair, you take a step towards your boss. “Before I begin working on this…special project,” you start, eyes darting over to Bane before sliding back to Cobblepot. “I want to address the matter of compensation. Making clothes for Bane will require significantly more material as well as more time than your clothes do. With an increased cost of production, the pay should be higher, yes?” you ask, raising a brow as Cobblepot’s own eyebrows slant in anger.

“You are in no position to be making demands, you little-” he snaps before cutting himself off, remembering he has company.

“I also need more band-aids for the first aid kit,” you say, refusing to back down. Cobblepot nods and sends you a withering glare that tells you you’re going to regret opening your mouth before escorting you and Bane to the bottom of the stairwell you had descended not long ago.

“Go take his measurements and compile a list of anything you need that you don’t already have; I’ll have it picked up this evening. And remember my navy and purple suit with the yellow accents needs to be done for tomorrow evening’s function!”

“Yes, boss,” you sigh as he makes his way back into his office and you lead Bane up the stairs.

–

“Stand here please,” you direct Bane as you grab a stepstool, measuring tape, notebook, and pen from around the room. “So, what will I be making for you?” you ask as you flip to a clean page of the notebook.

“The first thing I need is a coat,” he answers, and you take in the sound of his voice for the first time. It has a slight lilting quality but sounds menacing all the same, and the mask gives it a tinny undertone.

You nod and step onto the stool to begin measuring his muscled back over the tight black shirt he wears. “Can you tell me more about the kind of coat you want while I measure?” you ask, using his back to support the notepad as you write down his measurements. He looks over his shoulder at you, glancing down to where you’re writing, but he doesn’t comment.

“I care about functionality,” he starts. “It seems it can get quite cold here in the wintertime,” he continues, and you move around to his front side and ask him to hold his arms straight out to the sides and measure his chest. He looks down at you as you work, and you write down more measurements. Pulling the stool around, you kneel to measure his waist, listening as he finishes describing the coat he wants. You can’t help but notice his stomach is a bit softer than the rest of him, though there is still certainly muscle there, and it brings you a sense of comfort, reassuring you that the man you’re alone with is human. A very large, strong human who could probably kill you faster than you could blink, but human nonetheless.

You stand on the stool to measure his height; he’d mentioned wanting a bit of a longer coat, and just as you’re about to write the measurement down–using his body for support, which he had continued to say nothing about–the door bursts open and a man with reddish-brown hair and a five o’clock shadow shouts “Bane!” Your head snaps up, and you’re about to reprimand him for storming in when your weight tips the stool and you fall. You brace for the impact of the hard floor, but it never comes. Instead, you find yourself in Bane’s arms.

“Thanks,” you blush, and he nods as he sets you down.

“Barsad,” he says, turning to the man who had just stormed in. “I told you I would be out until after dark and not to disturb me. What is it?” Barsad looks between you and Bane, hesitating, but Bane waves him on.

“We have a date problem back at…well, you know. The woman bribed one of the guards, I suspect Ollie, and he let her go.” Your ears perk up at that as you continue to wind the measuring tape back around the round track you keep it on. “And the event is in an hour and a half.”

“Do you still have the dress?” Bane asks, glancing over at you.

“We do; it would be a bit difficult to transport,” Barsad explains. “What are you thinking, boss?”

“This one,” Bane says, nodding to you, is a tailor, so if we took her, she could make a few adjustments on the dress and she could stand in as the date.”

“Hold on,” you say, unable to stand by quietly despite your better judgement. “If I’m possibly going to some mystery event, I’d like to know what it is,” you say, crossing your arms.

“That is none of your concern,” the man, Barsad, says dismissively, about to continue speaking, when Bane holds a hand up and silences him.

“Under normal circumstances, I would agree with you, but this woman is someone we are doing business with, so we will play nice for the time being. And if she is to perform the part well, she should know what she will be doing.”

“I am right here!” you say, causing both men to look at you.

With a deep exhale, Barsad says, “I need someone to take as a plus one to a party tonight, a fancy one.”

You hesitate, wheels spinning in your mind. You know getting involved with whatever these men have going on is a bad idea, but you’re already employed by one of Gotham’s most notorious criminals, so you doubt it can really get much worse. Decision made, you speak up once more. “You wouldn’t happen to be talking about the party at Wayne Manor, would you?” you ask.

“Clever,” Bane says, but you get the feeling he is being condescending, so you send a glare his way. “But you are correct, that is the event.”

“Well…I have always wanted to see the inside of the place,” you admit. “And I’ve been dying to get out of this building for ages!” Bane looks at you in a way you can’t quite decipher, but you brush it aside.

“So it is settled,” Barsad says. “Now, about this dress we-” he starts.

“I think I have something that might be better than whatever the hell it is you have planned,” you say, cutting him off. “No offense, of course,” you add, looking him up and down and noting that his fashion sense isn’t as bad as you’d expected. You stride over to a closet in the back corner of the room, put in the code for the lock you keep on it, and open it, revealing a small collection of couture dresses fit for the finest galas in Gotham. You slide the dresses around, scooting hangers left and right, until you find the dress you were looking for. It is a silk and tulle grey floor-length dress with a fitted bodice that has a plunging v-neck and sheer long sleeves. At the waist, the dress flares out slightly, and there are both white and black pearls sewn into the dress at the waist. “How’s this for a dress?” you ask with a smirk, satisfied when both mens’ eyebrows shoot up and Barsad gives you a wide smile.

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thisbluespirit · 1 year

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Vivien Merchant and David Collings as Miss Pross and John Barsad, reunited, in A Tale of Two Cities (BBC 1980).

#a tale of two cities #gif #john barsad #miss pross #vivien merchant #david collings #1980s #period drama #book adaptations #kissing #brothers & sisters #david collings's hair #this is kind of sweet (and also sad) because barsad is supposed to be trying to avoid his sister's embraces #which i don't think requires all this kissing so ahem actors lol #and the first time i saw it i had to go look up vivien merchant in case wiki gave me a clue why #and sadly it did as she was in a bad way following her divorce from harold pinter in 1980 #(she would essentially drink herself to death within two years :()#I was reminded of this #because they were both also in breakaway and it suddenly dawned on me she was the one he was kissing in this

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dyns33 · 30 days

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Down the Pit - Part 2

I think I'll make like 5 or 6 part for this story. While writing other Bane's stories, because I love the man.

Tag : @jaxitaxibolehlaf (I remembered, I hope you'll like it)

It had been almost five years since Y/N had left the Pit.

The world had continued to turn, she had found a new job, a bigger apartment, but nothing made sense anymore.

Out of curiosity, Y/N had done some research on Ra's al ghul, but it had yielded nothing. No information either on the infernal prison of India, on Talia or Bane.

She held out hope that just typing these names into Google or whispering them in the street would one day bring them up, since the ninja leader had found her that way the first time.

It was also possible, even certain, that he had never lost sight of her since. Y/N didn’t feel like she was being monitored, but they were probably very good at it. It wouldn't make any difference if she indicated that she wanted them to show themselves, they would stay hidden.

Maybe if they made a lot of noise, they would have moved. By going to an independent journalist to tell them her whole story, with the certainty that he would publish even if she had no proof to offer.

But they would find a way to make it all disappear. They would kill the journalist, and maybe they would kill her too.

So Y/N waited, without really waiting, remaining alone with her memories and her nightmares.

However, she didn't think about all that at all when someone knocked on her door and she went to open it without looking at who it was.

The girl was brunette, her hair tied in a messy ponytail. Her large almost black eyes stared at her while her face remained impassive. The clothes she wore were slightly too big, as if she didn't know how to dress or had grabbed what she could. She couldn't have been more than thirteen or fourteen.

It's been almost five years. But it only took a moment, a brief moment, for Y/N to forget how to breathe, taking the girl into her arms.

“Talia !” she cried, hugging her tightly. "Talia, I'm so happy to see you. I missed you so much !"

"… I missed you too." the little girl whispered, shyly returning her embrace.

Obviously, her father didn't hold her often. The master of the League of Shadows, as Talia told her it was called, preferred to train her so that she would be ready to take his place when the time came.

It wasn't really the life Y/N would have wanted for the little girl she had practically raised in the Pit. It had nothing to do with the bedtime stories she told her.

While eating chocolate for the first time, Talia told her about what she was learning from her instructor, a man named Barsad. The girl didn't like him too much, because he was too strict and he had vulture eyes according to her.

In addition to basic lessons like writing, math, and geography, Talia learned to fight, kill, manipulate weak minds, lead troops of soldiers, and many other things a child of her age shouldn't have to learn.

Locked in a temple in the Himalayas, she had only seen the things Y/N had told her about in pictures. Except the snow. There was a lot of snow, an intense cold, absolutely not alleviated by the people around her.

That was why Talia had decided to look for Y/N as soon as she had the chance. Her father had told her that she had abandoned her, leaving her in his care while begging to be sent home, and with the promise that she would never hear from the child again.

"I believed him… I was young and stupid. I hated you for a long time, and then I realized that he must have been lying, because you would never have done that ! You wouldn't have left me. When Barsad told me I was going on my first overseas mission, I knew it was time."

Thanks to everything he had taught her, it was easy to escape the surveillance of Barsad and his men. After finding a disguise, Talia had managed to get to Gotham without attracting attention, until she found Y/N's apartment.

It might have been difficult, but with her training, stalking someone was perfectly natural.

In addition to the need to see Y/N again, Talia also wanted to see the world she had dreamed of so much when she was in the Pit.

The plane had scared her a little, she wasn't sure she liked the city with all the noises, the smells, the lights, but seeing so many people was fascinating for her.

The feeling of new freedom was exhilarating. She could go wherever she wanted, whenever she wanted, talk to whoever she wanted, eat whatever she wanted… And Talia wanted it all.

"I want to watch TV ! I want to dance ! I want to go to the beach !" the little princess of shadows almost ordered, jumping around in circles in the living room. “Now, now, now !”

"Calm down, Talia. You should probably call your father, he'll be worried."

"I don't care ! He lied to me. I want to try pizza."

"And… What about Bane ? Have you heard from Bane ?" Y/N asked with a bit of fear.

Talia stopped jumping, staring at her with a serious look. For a moment, Y/N trembled, thinking that she was going to tell her that he was dead, or that Ra's al ghul had refused to go get him.

"Bane… is fine. I'll call him."

There were many things her father had denied her, but going to save the man who had kept her safe since birth didn't seem possible.

Since he was strong and intelligent, as well as being completely devoted to Talia, it was decided that he could be useful, and he was allowed to join the League of Shadows. He quickly became an important member, earning the title of lieutenant.

Talia didn't see him often, at least not as often as she would have liked. As if he didn't want them to be together, her father sent Bane on missions outside the temple very regularly, and when he didn't have to report, he trained the new recruits.

Obedient, because he owed him his life and respect, the giant still found time to come and see Talia training. He asked Barsad, whom he treated like a brother, to give him news and watch over her in his absence.

Shyly, the girl admitted that he hadn't spoken about Y/N once since he was taken out of the Pit. No questions, no worries. Perhaps he also believed that she had abandoned them, or perhaps he had understood that their leader did not want her to be part of their lives.

The call was quick, calm. Talia gave the address where she was, firmly requesting that Bane and no one else come pick her up. No doubt she wanted to offer them a moment alone, all three of them, like before.

The tension was almost palpable when three knocks were given on the door. As Y/N took a deep breath, she was held back by the girl, who stared at her with great seriousness, but also what looked like fear.

“Promise me you’ll always love him.”

"… What ?"

"You love Bane. Nothing has changed."

"Of course. Why are you so worried ? Do you think… Do you think he doesn't want to be here ?"

"He'll be the happiest of all. Promise me."

Y/N promised her. She understood better the reasons for this insistence when she opened the door.

Taller than she remembered, Bane stood still until she invited him inside. Like his pupil, his eyes showed nothing, the only part of his face visible between a hat and a huge scarf.

It wasn't exactly cold outside, but since he was coming from a snowy mountain, Y/N figured he didn't have time to check the temperature of Gotham.

As he greeted Talia, he seemed to hesitate. It was not polite to keep his face hidden like that. With a gesture of her head, the young girl gave him a silent order. Then the presence of the scarf was clear.

The mask was strange. Impossible to say if it was so complicated and imposing for technical reasons, or also in order to scare.

For a moment, Y/N was afraid. But not because of Bane. More for him, wondering why he had that horrible mask, what had happened to him, but not knowing if she had the right to ask such a thing.

When he first spoke, his voice was weird, distorted. The pronunciation was also not normal. Sparing her any torture, between asking and staying in the dark.

"The other prisoners didn't accept that I help you escape. With everyone against me, I didn't have the slightest chance. But the doctor finished the job, trying to treat me."

“You… Are you in pain ?”

"No."

She wanted to know more, but Y/N decided now wasn’t the time. She would see later if he could remove it or if it might kill him. It didn't matter anyway, as she had promised Talia.

Instead, she held him in her arms, as she had held the child, letting her tears fall. This seemed to scare the giant, but he stood still, letting her do so.

"I missed you both so much. I'm so happy you're here."

"… Habibi." he whispered, his head leaning slightly to rest against hers.

The separaton was not easy.

Talia did not want to leave, while fully understanding that her father would not accept her staying. There would be consequences. Bane knew it too, and he was more adult, even if Y/N sometimes felt his hand brushing against hers, hesitant to take it.

No doubt he wouldn't have had the will to let go of her if he had given in.

Before agreeing to return to the temple, the young girl called her father, to present an absolutely insincere apology, promising to focus on her training, if in exchange she had the right to stay in contact with Y/N.

Ra's agreed, reluctantly. He knew nothing could stop his child anyway.

"We'll be back soon. I'll call you every day."

"You promise ?"

"Yes !" Talia said solemnly with bright eyes.

"The master agreed for you to come back. He didn't say anything about me."

"You are my protector. You will have to come with me, that's logical."

Translation, her father would have no choice. He had managed to separate them once, he wouldn't have that chance again. And since he was clever, he saw that the compromise was fair.

His daughter would continue to follow her destiny, as the future leader of the League of Shadows, not sticking to Bane when she was with her followers, but she would have the small freedom to see him and be with Y/N when she went in Gotham, from time to time.

All that remained was to define this time.

But since Y/N had waited five years, she was willing to wait a few more months, knowing now that they were fine, and that she could call them if she missed them too much.

#batman the dark knight #the dark knight rises #bane #bane x reader #bane imagine #bane fanfiction

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sochawrites · 1 year

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Can I request a Bane x male reader? Just some nice hurt/comfort, please?

Hi there! Yes, you can!

Well, this took longer than expected, sorry for that! I never wrote hurt/comfort before, so I had to do some more research, I would also like to warn you of the ooc Bane possibility.

Anyways, enjoy! ^^

A joytoy?

Bane x Male! reader

Oh, and contains some minor Talia slander, don't mind me...

Your breath hitched in your throat as you hastily abseiled the steep wall of wet rock. Never in your life have you ever thought you would be grateful for the searing pain of bullet holes and bruises on your skin, as the pain over-shined the burns and blisters forming on your palms from the rough rope.

You couldn't tell if you had your eyes open anymore, as your body moved on autopilot. Each outside sound was dulled by blood pumping mercilessly in your ears. You heard shouts from both above and below, indicating your squad has already made it down, as well as that your enemies were hot on your trail, but could not register any specific words.

Your body pushed itself off the wall one more time, stomach dropping as the rope slacked in your hold, your brain only now recognizing the meaning of some of the shouted words.

Rope.

And cut.

The fall was a short one, but the impact still knocked the breath out of your lungs. If you were a bit more conscious, you'd heard a nasty crack.

The world seemed still and quiet, but it certainly wasn't that. You were slipping into unconscious already, hardly making out the familiar, enveloping scent of your lover, his body heat as he cradled you in his strong arms, and the voices of your comrades calling out to you. "Stay with us, brother."

...

Were you awake, or were you asleep? You couldn't tell. But you knew you were hot, feverish even, and every part of your body felt heavy and numb. You could swear your felt something heavy moving delicately over your hand. It was pleasantly cool. You tried to embrace the cool object, but your muscles didn't listen, making you only twitch your fingers. The thing however seemed to take the hint, as it tightened its hold. Was it a hand? It wasn't long before you heard some muffled voices. They didn't sound pleasant.

And just like that, the coldness was gone, your mind fading again soon after.

You didn't know how long has it been since that occurrence, could have been hours, days, or even weeks. You still felt feverish and numb, but your mind was getting clearer by the minute, so a question arose in your head, where were you?

You tried to open your eyes, which was quite a struggle, but you managed after a while. The area was dimly lit, making it easier for your vision to adjust. You didn't recognize the room, it was too nice, too clean, it didn't belong in a mercenary's life, so why were you here? As you looked over your body, the events of the botched heist came forth. There was an IV piercing your arm, pumping in painkillers. That explained the numbness you felt. Examining your arms further, you noticed your hands were freshly bandaged, smelling of some healing ointment.

You heard voices, so you tried to tune in, yet some words were spoken too quietly to be heard. The first was a feminine one, filled with spite, but it sounded familiar. "How long…" "…going to keep that joytoy of yours…" "The plan…" "…motion.". A joytoy? Who was she talking about?

"Be wary…" "…Talia, he's…" Bane! that was Bane's voice, and Talia… wasn't she Ra's Al Ghul's daughter? Could they be talking about you? You tried to hear more of the conversation, but the argument went too faint for your ears.

New questions swirled into your mind, your eyes focusing on the ceiling. What if they were really talking about you? Why did Talia call you a joytoy? Was Bane talking about you that way behind your back? That couldn't be right, he was keen on keeping the relationship secret, even Barsad, Bane's right hand, had to figure it out himself. But this was Talia… maybe things were different for her?

You were deep in thought, not realizing the chatter has ceased. The door opened, and a cold hand trapped yours, startling you.

"Keep calm dearest, it is me." Bane spoke softly, a tone you believed was reserved for you and you only, "It is good to see you finally awake. How are you feeling?". He expressed such care, it was hard to imagine he could talk about you so lowly.

"Hot." you managed to wheeze out, the straining of your cords painfully obvious. Bane simply nodded and stood up, walking to a table that was out of your view. "A fewer was expected, take this.", he returned to your side with a pill in one hand, and a glass of water in the other.

You tried to sit up, but were stopped by both your protesting body and Bane gently pressing down on your shoulder. "Do not strain yourself, your injuries were quite severe." he put the tablets in your palm and sat next to you, putting his hand carefully under your head.

"Drink first…" Bane slowly lifted your head towards the glass, letting you sip the liquid until you felt like it was enough. "Good, good. Will you be able to take the medications yourself?" you could, "Good boy. Now drink it down.". He was rarely this gentle, it almost felt out of place.

After you finished the glass, Bane extended the back of his hand to your forehead, it was cold, so lovely cold, you could not help but to lean into the touch. Bane smiled behind the mask, his chest vibrating with a low chuckle, "You are aware, that you are not able to hide your emotions very well right now, right?". You hummed, "What do you mean?". The drink has certainly helped ease your dry throat.

"There is something on your mind Y/N, speak it." he didn't skip a beat, you, on the other hand, lingered for a second.

"What am I to you?"

Bane visibly halted and looked at you with confusion, a rare sight to come by, "This question would not come unprompted, care to tell me where the idea came from?"

You couldn't look him in the eyes, fearing your voice would betray you, and focused on your hands instead, "I… I just… It's stupid, forget I said-" "Dearest, speak.", Bane's stern voice cut you off, it was an order. You huffed, and shook your head, or at least believed you did, "I heard you talking with Talia a few minutes ago. I believe the phrase 'joytoy of yours' was used, so I suspect it was meant towards me. Is that how you view me?"

Bane raised an eyebrow at you and caressed your cheek, "I would never think of you so lowly dearest. Those are her misjudged words, blinded by envy. You are the light in my life, my weakness." he set aside the water glass and took your hand in his, "The heist has almost cost the life of the only good thing that ever happened to me, I could not leave you at the base, so far from me, with fate uncertain."

Face turning red "Bane, I…", you were at a loss, how were you supposed to answer this? Soft moments like this were rare and far between, you didn't want to ruin it, "As I said, it was stupid… I love you."

You could tell he was smirking at you, "My, it looks like your fever is getting worse… Do you want me to help you cool down?". You blinked up at him, oh the tease he was, you knew where this was going, or, well, thought you did, "I doubt that's possible around you, but it's worth a try…"

Bane patted your hand before letting go and walking around the bed where there was a lot more space for him. He removed his boots before slipping under the blankets and pulling you carefully towards him, resting your head under his chin, arms wrapping around your middle. His whole body was colder than usual as if he was outside not too long ago, but it also could be that your body temperature was even greater than his. You didn't mind though, he was actually quite cooling.

You closed your eyes, feeling content, a wave of sleepiness slowly washing over you, "I also heard something about some plan…". "Do not bother yourself with it now, dearest, you will learn about it together with the others. Now, are you comfortable?"

You hummed tiredly and whispered, "You're much comfier than that pillow…". Bane squeezed you a little bit, mindful of your wounds, "Then I will stay as long as you need."

#bane #bane x reader #request #reader insert #bane x male reader #bane x male!reader #TDKR Bane #hurt/comfort #I don't like Talia at all. but she would keep you in if Bane asked her too. she'd have some protests. but she would #not to imply that Talia isn't important to Bane. she is. but she didn't happen to him. he happened to her. at least in my eyes #also Bane taking care of your wounds while you rest qwq

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dagnyart · 7 months

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Commission sketch with Byrne and Barsad for dear @monoistrash Thank you for sharing your universe with me!I love these guys with all my heart and very happy to see them any time! Thank you for your request! Have a nice week :)

#commission #oc art

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archi-pelago · 3 months

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an exceptionally tiny doodle of barsad. been forever since I've doodled her

#my art #skyrim #barsad #my poor sweet beast of burden

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leagueofbane · 6 months

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Always protected by the best.

#talia al ghul #barsad #tdkr #Bane #tom hardy #josh stewart #marion cotillard

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atotc-weekly · 5 months

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Book the Third—The Track of a Storm

[X] Chapter XI. Dusk

The wretched wife of the innocent man thus doomed to die, fell under the sentence, as if she had been mortally stricken. But, she uttered no sound; and so strong was the voice within her, representing that it was she of all the world who must uphold him in his misery and not augment it, that it quickly raised her, even from that shock.

The Judges having to take part in a public demonstration out of doors, the Tribunal adjourned. The quick noise and movement of the court’s emptying itself by many passages had not ceased, when Lucie stood stretching out her arms towards her husband, with nothing in her face but love and consolation.

“If I might touch him! If I might embrace him once! O, good citizens, if you would have so much compassion for us!”

There was but a gaoler left, along with two of the four men who had taken him last night, and Barsad. The people had all poured out to the show in the streets. Barsad proposed to the rest, “Let her embrace him then; it is but a moment.” It was silently acquiesced in, and they passed her over the seats in the hall to a raised place, where he, by leaning over the dock, could fold her in his arms.

“Farewell, dear darling of my soul. My parting blessing on my love. We shall meet again, where the weary are at rest!”

They were her husband’s words, as he held her to his bosom.

“I can bear it, dear Charles. I am supported from above: don’t suffer for me. A parting blessing for our child.”

“I send it to her by you. I kiss her by you. I say farewell to her by you.”

“My husband. No! A moment!” He was tearing himself apart from her. “We shall not be separated long. I feel that this will break my heart by-and-bye; but I will do my duty while I can, and when I leave her, God will raise up friends for her, as He did for me.”

Her father had followed her, and would have fallen on his knees to both of them, but that Darnay put out a hand and seized him, crying:

“No, no! What have you done, what have you done, that you should kneel to us! We know now, what a struggle you made of old. We know, now what you underwent when you suspected my descent, and when you knew it. We know now, the natural antipathy you strove against, and conquered, for her dear sake. We thank you with all our hearts, and all our love and duty. Heaven be with you!”

Her father’s only answer was to draw his hands through his white hair, and wring them with a shriek of anguish.

“It could not be otherwise,” said the prisoner. “All things have worked together as they have fallen out. It was the always-vain endeavour to discharge my poor mother’s trust that first brought my fatal presence near you. Good could never come of such evil, a happier end was not in nature to so unhappy a beginning. Be comforted, and forgive me. Heaven bless you!”

As he was drawn away, his wife released him, and stood looking after him with her hands touching one another in the attitude of prayer, and with a radiant look upon her face, in which there was even a comforting smile. As he went out at the prisoners’ door, she turned, laid her head lovingly on her father’s breast, tried to speak to him, and fell at his feet.

Then, issuing from the obscure corner from which he had never moved, Sydney Carton came and took her up. Only her father and Mr. Lorry were with her. His arm trembled as it raised her, and supported her head. Yet, there was an air about him that was not all of pity—that had a flush of pride in it.

“Shall I take her to a coach? I shall never feel her weight.”

He carried her lightly to the door, and laid her tenderly down in a coach. Her father and their old friend got into it, and he took his seat beside the driver.

When they arrived at the gateway where he had paused in the dark not many hours before, to picture to himself on which of the rough stones of the street her feet had trodden, he lifted her again, and carried her up the staircase to their rooms. There, he laid her down on a couch, where her child and Miss Pross wept over her.

“Don’t recall her to herself,” he said, softly, to the latter, “she is better so. Don’t revive her to consciousness, while she only faints.”

“Oh, Carton, Carton, dear Carton!” cried little Lucie, springing up and throwing her arms passionately round him, in a burst of grief. “Now that you have come, I think you will do something to help mamma, something to save papa! O, look at her, dear Carton! Can you, of all the people who love her, bear to see her so?”

He bent over the child, and laid her blooming cheek against his face. He put her gently from him, and looked at her unconscious mother.

“Before I go,” he said, and paused—“I may kiss her?”

It was remembered afterwards that when he bent down and touched her face with his lips, he murmured some words. The child, who was nearest to him, told them afterwards, and told her grandchildren when she was a handsome old lady, that she heard him say, “A life you love.”

When he had gone out into the next room, he turned suddenly on Mr. Lorry and her father, who were following, and said to the latter:

“You had great influence but yesterday, Doctor Manette; let it at least be tried. These judges, and all the men in power, are very friendly to you, and very recognisant of your services; are they not?”

“Nothing connected with Charles was concealed from me. I had the strongest assurances that I should save him; and I did.” He returned the answer in great trouble, and very slowly.

“Try them again. The hours between this and to-morrow afternoon are few and short, but try.”

“I intend to try. I will not rest a moment.”

“That’s well. I have known such energy as yours do great things before now—though never,” he added, with a smile and a sigh together, “such great things as this. But try! Of little worth as life is when we misuse it, it is worth that effort. It would cost nothing to lay down if it were not.”

“I will go,” said Doctor Manette, “to the Prosecutor and the President straight, and I will go to others whom it is better not to name. I will write too, and—But stay! There is a Celebration in the streets, and no one will be accessible until dark.”

“That’s true. Well! It is a forlorn hope at the best, and not much the forlorner for being delayed till dark. I should like to know how you speed; though, mind! I expect nothing! When are you likely to have seen these dread powers, Doctor Manette?”

“Immediately after dark, I should hope. Within an hour or two from this.”

“It will be dark soon after four. Let us stretch the hour or two. If I go to Mr. Lorry’s at nine, shall I hear what you have done, either from our friend or from yourself?”

“Yes.”

“May you prosper!”

Mr. Lorry followed Sydney to the outer door, and, touching him on the shoulder as he was going away, caused him to turn.

“I have no hope,” said Mr. Lorry, in a low and sorrowful whisper.

“Nor have I.”

“If any one of these men, or all of these men, were disposed to spare him—which is a large supposition; for what is his life, or any man’s to them!—I doubt if they durst spare him after the demonstration in the court.”

“And so do I. I heard the fall of the axe in that sound.”

Mr. Lorry leaned his arm upon the door-post, and bowed his face upon it.

“Don’t despond,” said Carton, very gently; “don’t grieve. I encouraged Doctor Manette in this idea, because I felt that it might one day be consolatory to her. Otherwise, she might think ‘his life was wantonly thrown away or wasted,’ and that might trouble her.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” returned Mr. Lorry, drying his eyes, “you are right. But he will perish; there is no real hope.”

“Yes. He will perish: there is no real hope,” echoed Carton.

And walked with a settled step, down-stairs.

#a tale of two cities #atotc weekly #charles dickens #november 5 #the track of a storm #illustration

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emotionalcadaver · 4 months

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Part 16: Why Do We Fall

Fandom: The Dark Knight Trilogy

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x OC

Summary: Batman's return to Gotham forces Jonathan and Vanessa to reassess their current living situation.

Word Count: 1,698

Notes: Takes place during The Dark Knight Rises. Warnings for depictions of violence.

Masterlists: Main • Series

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“No lawyer? No witnesses? What sort of due process is this?” Jim Gordon asked them. The court was uncharacteristically quiet, save for his voice. Vanessa shifted, ever so slightly, in Jonathan’s lap, head cocking as she looked down on him and his group of followers.

“Your guilt has been determined. This is merely a sentencing hearing,” Jonathan said. “Now, what will it be? Death…or exile?”

“Crane, if you think we’re going out onto that ice willingly…you have another thing coming.”

Jonathan nodded, and shrugged. “Death, then.”

“Looks that way!”

Their commissioner had balls, she’d give him that.

“Very well. Death…” Jonathan brought his gavel down with a decisive clang. And then, in the bitchiest voice she had ever heard her husband use, he added, “by exile.”

The crowd erupted into cheers. Vanessa laughed, pressing her smile into Jonathan’s neck as she watched Gordon and his people be led away by the mercenaries.

All except for one. At the corner of the group, she spotted Miranda Tate, Wayne Enterprises’ new CEO, being led by the arm by Barsad towards Bane, who was standing on the edge of the crowd. He rested a hand on her shoulder, almost affectionately, and began to guide her away.

Her head tilted curiously. Bane had said that the courtroom was their turf. They got to make the rules. Decide what happened to each and every person brought before them. And yet here he was, trying to challenge their authority.

They adjourned for the day, waiting until the spectators had been ushered out by their goons before descending from the safety of their throne to head into the back room they’d fashioned as their bedroom.

“Bane took Miranda Tate with him, even though she was captured with Gordon’s people,” she observed.

“I noticed that too,” Jonathan was fumbling with the microwave they had in the corner, reheating a few servings of soup for them for dinner. “Maybe he took a shine to her.”

“Their contact did seem rather affectionate.”

He passed her a bowl of soup and a spoon, grabbing his own before joining her.

“It’s probably for the best not to antagonize Bane.”

She winced at the mere thought of it. The man looked like he could snap both of them in half like a toothpick with just one hand. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“It’ll be good to finally be rid of Gordon.”

“I’m surprised it took them so long to find him,” she said around a mouthful of soup. “I know it’s a big city, but Bane’s men seem…experienced in what they do.”

“Gordon’s got a lot of allies.”

“Mm. Well, it’s done now,” she shifted to rest her head on Jonathan’s shoulder, eyes darting lazily towards the window. She stiffened. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” he asked, suddenly on high alert. She didn’t answer him, instead setting her bowl down and scrambling to her feet, staggering towards the window.

Oh, no. Oh, come on. They were having so much fun.

Behind her, she heard Jonathan getting to his feet, following to stand behind her and stare out the window.

To where a burning bat symbol was emblazoned on the tower of one of the bridges.

∗ ∗ ∗

“You have the notebooks?”

Jonathan patted a pocket in his backpack. “All here. You got the remaining seeds for the flowers?”

“Yes,” she said, double checking inside the innermost pocket of her own pack that the bag of precious seeds was still there.

Jonathan glanced around the bedroom. “I already double checked the lab.”

She nodded. They’d taken care of all the remaining test subjects too. He looked back at her.

“Is there anything we’re missing?”

“Nothing that I’ve noticed,” she did her own quick sweep of the bedroom, but spotted nothing that couldn’t be easily replaced.

“Okay,” Jonathan hoisted his backpack up over his shoulder, his mask clutched in his hand. He held the other out to her. “Let’s go.”

Pulling her pack on to rest comfortably between her shoulder blades, she pulled up her half face respirator, fitting it snugly over her nose and mouth. Just in case. Grabbing tightly onto Jonathan’s hand, she let him tug her along down the hall, towards the main room and the exit of the courthouse.

They didn’t have an entirely concrete plan as to where they would go yet. Right now they just needed to get away. Wait for the dust to settle, then maybe root out a safehouse they could use.

All they really had to do was avoid the Bat, and they should be fine. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too hard; he was likely to have his hands very full with Bane.

There had been a slew of activity since the Bat’s symbol had appeared. Bane’s men were all being called away from the courthouse to City Hall, where a batch of the city’s cops who the Bat–presumably–had freed were marching.

One thing was for sure, they weren’t sticking around to get shot or pummeled by either side, thank you very much. Jonathan pulled his mask on as they rushed towards the exit. Maybe once they were outside they could find a car or something to steal.

“Going somewhere?”

Bane was leaning against the wall that he so often was hovering by while he watched them take their court cases.

Vanessa froze, taking a step back. “We’re not sticking around to be smacked around by the Bat once he shows up.”

“That won’t be an issue.”

“You don’t know him,” Jonathan huffed.

“Your presence is still required.”

“Court’s been canceled for the day, I’m afraid.”

A growling sound came from Bane’s modulator. “Your toxin will be of the utmost value in the fight against the police.”

Jonathan hesitated, for the briefest of moments. “No. No, I don’t think that it will.”

Bane took a threatening step forward. They took one back. Around them, mercenaries had filed silently into the hall. Jonathan squeezed her hand.

“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you,” he said to Bane. “But we have to look out for ourselves, first. Surely you understand,” the detonator in his hand clicked, and then the toxin bombs around them exploded. Almost instantaneously, a thick wave of gas rose to fill the entire courtroom. So thick it was difficult to see through.

By the time that the mercenaries started screaming, they had dodged Bane as he lunged for them and raced out the door, down the street and around the corner.

∗ ∗ ∗

They managed to dodge the worst of the fighting, and scramble their way up a building using a fire escape, settling on a rooftop far enough from the battle that they didn’t need to worry about getting struck with stray bullets or explosions. Sitting down with their backs to the wall, looking out over the city, they resigned themselves to just wait until it all died down.

It was considerably safer up there on the rooftops than it was down on the streets, at least.

Jonathan had his arm around her, head leaned against hers, fingers tracing nonsensical patterns into her shoulder. She was just barely beginning to doze, thinking about how it actually wasn’t all too bad up there and maybe she could take a quick nap and by the time she woke up it would all be over, when another thought occurred to her.

“Jonathan?”

“Mhm?”

“You don’t think that bomb Bane was threatening the city with will go off, do you?”

“Hm…” he frowned. “It’s possible. If Bane gets pissed enough…he seems like the kind of guy who would be happy to take us all down with him if given the opportunity.”

She frowned, chewing on her bottom lip worriedly. Jonathan gave her a squeeze.

“If it does go off, we probably will be incinerated before we even know what happened.”

“Oh, that makes me feel better,” she muttered dryly. Jonathan chuckled, kissing her forehead.

“Bats won’t let that happen.”

“Huh. Something he’s actually good for,” she curled in closer to him. “I love you,” she wanted to make sure she told him that, just in case this actually was it.

Jonathan shrugged. “You’re okay, I guess.”

She made an indignant sound and he laughed as she lightly shoved him, pulling her into his arms until she was half spread out in his lap. He kissed her.

“I love you too.”

Giggling, she closed her eyes.

BOOM!

Her face creased at the sound, scrunching closer to Jonathan.

“Oh my god,” he said, sounding very exasperated.

“What?” she opened her eyes, following his gaze across the city to where the Bat’s…aircraft? Plane? Whatever it was, it was flying through the city at a furious speed, the spherical bomb that Bane had been threatening the city with attached to a cable and being dragged behind it.

“Is he…is he fucking towing a neutron bomb?” it wasn’t as question so much as just the most absurd statement she’d ever had to utter in her entire life. They both winced when the bomb, dangling precariously, almost smacked into the side of a building on a sharp turn, before the aircraft was swooping out over the bay, barreling towards the open water. Soon it was but barely a speck of black against the horizon.

There was a sudden, distant boom, and then a blinding flash of light. She sucked in a harsh breath at the fireball in the distance, cringing back on instinct. Jonathan held her tighter.

“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s far enough away from us.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, just staring at the pillar of fire rising in the sky. “Do you think he’s dead?”

“The Bat? Maybe,” he huffed. “But I’ve learned not to get my hopes up when it comes to that.”

She snorted. It was true. If anyone could survive an explosion like that, it was Batman. He was like a goddamn cockroach.

Jonathan hummed, kissing her forehead. “You know what I want to do?”

“Go knab some test subjects off the street while everything is still in chaos and no one will notice?”

“Actually, I was thinking of getting pizza, but I like your idea better.”

Laughing, she leaned further back against him, and closed her eyes.

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

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Masterlists: Main • Series

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x oc #the dark knight trilogy #my ocs #my fanfiction #vanessa sullivan #vanessa sullivan x jonathan crane #why do we fall #the shadow game

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comma-after-dearest · 5 months

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Sydney Carton is savage AF

I feel like one thing about Sydney Carton that doesn’t get talked about enough is his vindictive streak and how absolutely cold and savage he can be towards his enemies.

Like when I reread the book, during the part where Sydney is going around Paris gathering intel, I noticed that he has to stop himself twice from stabbing a bitch. First with the Wood Sawyer and later with Madame Defarge. He probably carries a knife on him, he could totally have done it if he wanted.

And during the scene where he’s blackmailing Barsad, you can tell that Barsad is terrified of him, and he’s right to be terrified. He knows that Sydney has absolutely no qualms about murdering him and making it look like an accident, or giving Jerry Cruncher half a guinea to do it for him. I always picture Sydney’s body language in that scene being very intimate, almost seductive, but in a way that lets Barsad know that he’s trapped.

Even in his final monologue, he imagines the revolutionaries getting guillotined and it definitely has a "taking you with me" vibe. Not that they don't deserve it (with the possible exception of Defarge), but still. Damn.

Like, there is an AU where Sydney Carton is London’s most notorious gang boss or something.

Basically, Sydney Carton is really hard to piss off for real, but if you do, run. Fast. (And he doesn't yell, he just goes into tranquil fury mode.)

In conclusion, Sydney Carton is terrifying when dealing with people he hates more than he hates himself.

#a tale of two cities #atotc #sydney carton #character analysis #meta #discussion

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dauntless-gothamite · 1 year

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Master of Shadows [2/?]

Fandom: DC (Nolanverse; Batman Comics) Pairing: Bane x Fem! Reader Summary: You are a tailor that works for Oswald Cobblepot, also known as the Penguin, who tasks you with making clothes for the abnormally large man who has recently arrived in Gotham, Bane. While working with Bane, you see an opportunity to escape the Penguin, something you have wanted for years, and if you play your cards right, you may just gain your freedom and bond with the handsome man in the mask along the way. A/N: this is aggressively unedited and kind of short but I am eager to keep the story moving :) please let me know what you think!!

Warnings: intentional violence towards reader (not from Bane)

You step out of the changing room, satisfied with your appearance. You’ve changed into a bra that works with the plunging neckline of the dress to reveal a bit of cleavage, and the cinched waist of the dress hugs your body tightly. The pearls sewn into the dress aren’t too heavy; they actually give the dress a satisfying weight to it and they give you the perfect opportunity to wear drop-down pearl earrings that have two white pearls and one black pearl in the middle. While getting changed, you had applied some dark grey eyeshadow to your eyelids, which looks good with the dress. Lastly, you have some black heeled ankle boots that just peek out from the bottom of the dress. “Well?” you ask, twirling.

“Excellent, now let’s go,” Bane says, hardly sparing you a glance. Barsad offers you a smile and offers his arm to you, which you take as you make your way down the stairs once more. You spare a glance at the Penguin’s office door as you walk past it and down another flight of stairs but keep moving without saying anything. Hopefully he is too distracted by either work or Eddie to notice the already faint sounds of you moving about the attic have faded completely.

–

A short while later, you’re standing in Wayne Manor with Barsad, champagne flute in hand and a smile plastered on your face. Before coming here, Bane had said he had other things to deal with, and while you had figured he wouldn’t be at the party, it was another thing entirely to be there alone with Barsad, who you felt you knew even less about than Bane. Barsad proves to be nice enough, if a bit awkward at times, and you often lead him through the crowd so as to avoid the wrong people–being the talented tailor that you are, you had made clothing for some of the richest people in Gotham and have a good understanding of the social dynamics in the room. Just as Bruce Wayne himself makes an entrance, Barsad leans in and whispers in your ear, “Time to go.” You frown but don’t protest and follow him out of the manor and down the long driveway, where a car waits for the both of you. Barsad opens the door for you, and you’re a little disappointed to see Bane isn’t there. As he gets in after you Barsad smirks and says, “Don’t worry, you’ll see the boss in a couple days when he drops by to check on your progress. He always follows up on his projects.” You scowl at that and Barsad laughs, and you think maybe, for the first time in years, you’ve made a friend.

The car stops outside the Iceberg Lounge, and you know this is where you part ways with Barsad and face the consequences of leaving without permission. “I had fun tonight,” you admit as you get out of the car. “See you around,” you add, closing the door as Barsad waves and the car takes off.

–

You walk the short distance from the Iceberg Lounge to Oswald Cobblepot’s more private residence, where he greets you at the door rather than having an assistant do it, and you know things are likely worse than you’d thought.

“Sir,” you greet, looking at the floor.

Cobblepot says nothing at first, only slaps you hard right across the face. You hold in the yelp that almost escapes your mouth and look the man in the eyes. “Foolish, ungrateful girl,” he scolds. “Have you any idea what you being seen with Bane and his men could mean for me?” You shake your head as he shoves you against the wall. “It could mean my already fragile alliance with Maroni could shatter! But you don’t care about that, do you, you selfish bitch!” You so badly want to talk back and say you didn’t know, but you know that would only lead to more pain, so you keep quiet. “Back up to the attic, now,” Cobblepot orders. With a nod, you turn to go, but he grabs your arm tightly, and then slides his hand down to yours. Taking your hand, he looks you dead in the eye and snaps your pinky finger in half, causing you to scream. “You don’t really need that one to sew…and if anyone comes looking for you because they saw you tonight, it’s the whole hand, you hear me?” he threatens. Unshed tears line your eyes; you don’t let them fall until he has released your arm and you’re up the stairs in the attic alone.

–

The next morning, your broken finger wrapped tightly against the one next to it in some extra tulle from your supply, you look through the fabric samples you have stored in the attic, pulling a few options for Bane’s coat and setting them on the table nearby. Lying before you are squares of leather, shear-lined denim and suede, twill, and more. Wincing, you try to ignore the pain in your hand as you open up your notebook to look at the notes you had written down the day before when there is a knock at your door. “Come in,” you call, expecting one of Oswald’s assistants to have a delivery for you; they always come by in the morning. Much to your surprise, Bane walks through the door instead.

“Oh! Hi Bane,” you greet, feeling even smaller next to him than you did yesterday. “I haven’t started on your coat yet, but I was just looking though some fabric samples-” you start, unsure what else to say. He stops you though, reaching for your bandaged hand.

“What happened here?” he asks, turning your smaller hand over to examine it.

“Oh, you know, I just…” you trail off.

“You just what?” Bane pushes, and you look up at him nervously.

“Well, I’m just not supposed to go out.”

“For your safety?” he asks, his body already more tense than it was a moment ago.

“In part,” you mutter. “Can we not talk about it?” you ask, shifting his attention to the fabrics laid out before you.

“For now,” the large man concedes, and you exhale in relief.

“So for the coat, I have a few fabrics here, thicker ones to account for the weather, but I wasn’t sure about your color preference, but if you want it lined with something for warmth that limits the options-” you start, unstacking the fabric squares.

“I like this one,” he says, leaning over your shoulder and pointing to a dark brown suede shearling square of fabric.

“You can touch it,” you say, and as he leans forward to pick it up, his chest presses against your back lightly, comfortably. In an instant, the touch is gone.

“This one will be very good,” Bane says, handing the square back to you. “I will see you later,” he says before leaving you alone in the attic, uncertain of what exactly had just happened.

#bane x reader #bane imagine #tdkr #tdkr fanfiction #the dark knight rises #batman #nolanverse #gotham #bane fanfiction #bane fanfic #bane tdkr #tom hardy #dauntless-gothamite #dauntless gothamite

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