#michael had so many friends die on him... and those who didn't die on him now think he's dead...

[allysunny]

Pls pls pls friends to lovers with an ass load of pining!!! I love the trope where literally everyone but her can see that he’s in love with her and they’re basically dating without the title. She’s in love with him too but a little more guarded/scared. They have fun traditions like a book club, and Bruce gives her the princess treatment. Pls pls pls, I’d literally love you forever if you wrote this

Obliviously in Love | Bale!Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Words: 15k words

Warnings: Friends to lovers, pining, two idiots in love but way too blind to see it, Alfred being a very sassy butler (I love Michael Cane sm), possibly OOC Bruce (I've never written for him before), some angst, love confessions, Christmas! and mistletoe, eventual romance of course! Not beta, we die like Harvey Dent.

A/N: Hey everyone!!! Sorry for the delay, but as I told you, uni was kicking my ass. I'm back now, and hopefully I'll be able to write a lot!

So, this is my first Bale!Bruce request, and I'm so excited, but at the same time I'm super, super nervous because I've never written for this man in my entire life? I love this trilogy so bad and even rewatched all the movies as I was doing this, because I wanted to make sure I got him right. Sure, he's a vigilante and a billionaire and a supposed playboy, but he's also just a man, and I sort of wanted to explore that.

There's so many layers to this man, it is insane. If there's anything OOC about him, please do let me know. I swear to god I tried my best, and I hope you like the finished result.

This is my longest word so far - I'm so sorry! It was supposed to be kinda short and sweet but I just ran with it! I don't know if it was for the better or worst, but I hope you guys like it nevertheless. Again, I'm sorry if it's somewhat OOC, I tried to get everyone's personalities just right. I'm scared of not doing these movies justice. I also took some liberties with this - Bruce and Rachel don't have feelings for each other, Bruce often goes to charity galas, etc. Small things.

Also, it's set somewhat in between Batman Begins and The Dark Knight!

Anyways, enjoy!

Bruce Wayne was a lonely man.

Not that he minded, really.

Ever since he was a child, he knew most people were after him and his family for the money. Family friends cashing in favours done ages ago, things as small as having once lent his father an umbrella, women pretending to befriend his mother to accompany her whenever she went shopping, kids at school getting closer to him only to get a peek at the famed Wayne Manor and all the wonders it hid inside.

He'd rather be alone than have such leeches around him, surrounding him like vultures, waiting for an opening.

Kids who'd mocked him would apologise profusely days later, having learned about his family, offering their friendship. Once Bruce made it clear he had no intentions of inviting anyone to his place (he was just shy, really), they'd take back their so called “friendship”.

He was better off without such people.

They were few, the people he could trust. And even those he called his “friends”, he didn't trust completely. His childhood best friend, Rachel, had grown up and busied herself at the DA’s office. She reached out to him after he’d returned after all those years in training, but she was a busy woman, and Bruce had found a new passion himself – patrolling the streets of Gotham dressed up as a bat. They would talk often, but it simply wasn’t the same. They were still friends of course – childhood could link two people – but he’d changed, and so had she. No matter how well they got along, they were changed people.

So, he was back to square one, with no people to truly confide in.

There was, after all, a reason only Alfred knew of his secret identity.

No, Bruce Wayne wasn't a stranger to loneliness.

He preferred the peace and quiet of his home office to the loud ambiences of the parties thrown by pretentious people who wanted to pass by as charitable, and found that sometimes, being by himself was a better option.

Bruce Wayne could count with his hands how many “friends” he had, and how many were simply greedy bloodsuckers trying to get to his fortune.

All but you, though.

Never you.

Bruce met you a few years ago, at the bakery you used to work at.

He wasn't a regular - hell, he didn't usually eat at places like those. Bruce Wayne, the Prince of Gotham, dined at the best restaurants - a truth universally acknowledged.

But after being stuck in traffic for about thirty minutes (he'd sent Alfred on a makeshift vacation, having miraculously been able to convince the old man to take some time for himself), he decided to exit the cab and go for a stroll.

It'd been a stressing day, with about a hundred reports coming in for him to sign at Wayne Enterprises, the prototypes for his new motorcycle had proved to be a failure, and he was simply exhausted. A walk would do him good, clear his head.

That's when he walked by the bakery, noticing the colourfully decorated cupcakes and pastries on the shelves. The pastel-coloured frostings seemed far too pretty to eat, and curiosity got the best of him, compelling him to go inside and purchase one.

That's when he first saw you.

You took a while to take his order, quickly informing him you were working all by yourself. One of your coworkers was in labour, the other on vacation. You were baking, cleaning and waitressing on your own.

Bruce was surprised, to say the least. You were taking over each station, keeping calm even under pressure and tending to each task diligently.

When asked who baked the frosted treats, you smiled and told him you baked those yourself. Apparently, it was your first time exposing them, the owner of the bakery finally giving you some leeway to try your own cakes and sweets.

“No one's tried them yet, though,” you said, sheepishly. “People don’t really want to try anything new. They’re scared my food is going to suck. I keep telling myself they’re just scared of change, you know. To keep my spirits high.”

“I hear that,” Bruce replied. If he knew anything about people, it was that they were all terrified of the unknown. “It’s Gotham – what can you do? You bump into lunatics every other day. I’ll have the one on the shop window, the one with the pink frosting.”

Your eyes sparkled then, and Bruce swore he’d do anything to see them shine again and again.

“Really?” you asked, a hopeful smile playing in your lips.

“Absolutely. It looks good.”

You gave him an enthusiastic nod and went to retrieve the cupcake, placing it on top of a small place along with a fork. He paid for the treat along with a cup of coffee and sat down on a nearby table.

Unlocking his phone, he found a few messages from Alfred, asking him if he hadn't burnt down the Manor yet. Sure, maybe he couldn't cook nor clean nor take care of himself that well, but that didn't warrant a fire brigade to go check up on him, now did it?

Burned to the ground, he texted back in a joking manner. All that's left are the red slippers I gave to you last Christmas. Hadn't you lost them? It's a miracle.

Alfred replied just as quickly.

Should've let them burn too. Hideous things.

Bruce chuckled, assuring his trusted butler all was well, and locking his phone once again.

If he looked from the corner of his eye, he could see you, nervously chewing on your lip while you looked at his plate expectantly.

Right, he thought. The cupcake.

Bruce tasted the coffee first, deciding it was far better than whatever he was drinking at his office, and slowly cut the cupcake with his fork (because why would he use his hands). HIs eyes widened once he finally bit into it.

It was good, really good. It tasted like strawberries - not that artificial strawberry flavoured crap he was sure was in most of the food out there - actual strawberries.

The frosting was sugary, but not too much that it became nauseous, and the mix of flavours melted in his mouth.

You’d approached him, breath hitched as you awaited his verdict.

“So?” You asked, after a while, giving him an apologetic smile. “How is it?”

“It’s good.”

“Really?” You graced him with the brightest of smiles, holding onto your little notepad. “You think so?”

“I know so.” Way to go, Bruce. Not corny at all. You’re the man.

Pulling the chair next to him, you sighed in relief and sat down.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me. I was so scared no one was gonna like them.”

“The people of Gotham are idiots if they don’t want to try these.” He took another bite of his cupcake and your smile only got bigger.

“Well, you said it. It’s Gotham. Even something as simple as a different coffee order will get their panties in a twist. Look at how everyone reacted to that Bat guy. He takes out a few criminals and cleans the streets, and suddenly he’s the bad guy?” you inquire.

“Bat guy?” Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you know! Bat guy! They’re calling him the Batman. You’ve probably seen him on TV. Black cape, black cowl, black, well, clothes?”

“Ah,” he nodded, “The Batman, yes. I might have heard of him.” Might have. “What’s his deal anyway? I think the police are calling the guy a criminal.”

You scoffed, placing a strand of hair behind your ear. “A criminal? The guy’s doing a better job than most cops. I think they’re just jealous. And pissed that someone’s not up for briberies.”

Bruce nodded, before turning to his cupcake. You thought what Batman did was right. He brimmed with pride.

“I don’t know – he sounds like your typical Arkham resident to me. Dressed like a bat, running around with a black cape?” It was practically wired into his brain by now, the way he attempted to detach his Bruce Wayne persona from his Batman one. Even if he’d just met you, even if you seemed genuine, he couldn’t help but keep up the façade. “They should probably lock him up.”

“That’s nonsense!” you exclaimed. “He’s the only one willing to do something right for this city. The only one who’s not being compensated by turning a blind eye to criminals like half of the GCPD are. The streets are safer with him around.”

So, he made you feel safe.

Well, not him – Batman did.

Bottom line was, he made you feel safe.

And wasn’t that the reason for all of this? To make Gotham a better place? To clean the streets, to give people some hope in amidst all the chaos and darkness? Wasn’t that his goal – to give Gotham citizens their city back to them, and allow them to live unruled by fear? 

“Anyway - I’m sorry, here I am, sitting next to you while you probably want to eat by yourself. Gosh, I’m so sorry. Taking care of the shop by myself makes me feel a tad lonely.” You gave him another apologetic smile (although this one did not reach your eyes), and got up, hurrying behind the counter.

For a few moments, Bruce sat in silence, eating his cupcake, and sipping from his coffee. Good stuff – nothing like the ones Alfred prepared for him, but still good.

When he glanced back up, he watched as you quickly washed some dishes, brow furrowed in concentration. He took you all in, the way you carefully rinsed every dish, ensuring it was stable on the tray nearby before moving onto the next one. Once or twice, you looked up, observing the city through the windows. He saw you sigh softly and get back to work.

To say he was intrigued was an understatement. A big one.

It wasn’t only that you were strikingly beautiful – that helped too, quite a lot – but there was something more to you that Bruce couldn’t really pinpoint and wanted to get to know more of. He was tired of fake people. Of all the fake smiles and fake laughter and fake parties and having to pretend he was someone he simply wasn’t. It was all for the greater good, sure, but hiding behind a mask was draining. No one knew that better than Bruce Wayne.

Before he realised it, he’d stood up, placing his plate and cup on top of the counter. The soft “clack” of it made you turn around and your eyes widened slightly.

“Oh – “ you mumbled. “It’s okay, I usually just do that.”

“Lifting a cup and a plate won’t kill me, I assure you.”

You chuckled and took the dishes, turning to the sink.

“You’re not at all like what people say.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not like they describe you,” you said with a small shrug. A strand of hair fell from behind your ear and Bruce’s hand twitched slightly, perhaps wishing to tuck it back himself.

“So you know who I am?” he asked, a curious smile forming in his lips. He wasn’t expecting to be completely ignorant of him – hell, it’s impossible to be unaware of his existence when you live in Gotham.

“I have a television and friends who love gossip magazines. It’s preposterous to think of a person who hasn’t come across your face, considering it’s slapped in nearly every tabloid ever.” You chuckled, soaking his plate. “And there was the matter of your credit card – I thought American Express was a myth.”

Bruce remained silent, which prompted you to go on.

“Everyone says you’re an arrogant jerk – “ The words come out of your mouth before you can process them, and he chuckles mentally, finding the way you stumbled over your words quite amusing. “I mean, that’s what they say – I’m not saying that you’re one, I just – I’m just repeating what’s been told to me. Anyway, yeah. You don’t seem like that at all.”

“And what makes you say that? We’ve spoken for all but five minutes,” he cocked an eyebrow, eagerly awaiting your answer.

You think for a while, gripping the towel at your hands and shrug again.

“I don’t know.” You turn to him. “Call it intuition, but I just felt like you were being genuine. I mean, you don’t have a bazillion models hanging off your arms – and it looked like you walked all the way here. No fancy sports car like the ones in the magazines either.” Another shrug. “You just seemed like a random guy when you walked in. No fancy titles whatsoever.”

Just a random guy.

Sometimes it felt like such a thing was unattainable for Bruce.

In front of the cameras, he had to be spoiled, rich, reckless playboy Bruce who bought hotels on a whim, hung around with hot models and spent his money on useless luxuries such as cars and yachts. When no one was watching, he had the weight of Gotham in his shoulders as Batman, sacrificing his mind and body every night just to make sure his people were safe.

It was impossible for Bruce to be just a random guy, no matter how much he wanted to.

But the way you said it – like you truly believed it – made him think twice about it.

You weren’t grovelling at his feet. Nor were you pretending not to know him as many others had done, in order to appear mysterious and different, and therefore catch his attention. No, you were just being you – or what he hoped was you. You knew who he was, admitted to seeing his face and knowing of his affairs, but that didn’t stop you from treating him like a normal person.

Just a random guy.

“Or maybe I’m just biased because you liked my cupcakes.” There it was again, that lovely smile of yours.

And you were funny too.

“I’ll admit, that was my tactic all along.” Bruce allowed a hint of playfulness to tint his voice, and your smile widened at that.

“Your secret is safe with me, Mr. Wayne.”

“Please, just Bruce.”

“Alright then. Your secret is safe with me, Bruce.” You smiled and went back to cleaning the counter. (You half expected him to leave without saying a word – why’d a billionaire entertain your company for more than a few minutes? – and were surprised when he stayed.)

“I’m sorry if I’m crossing a line here, but,” he started, “Would you like to join me for lunch one of these days?”

You eyed him curiously and cocked your head to the side, giving him a cheeky smile.

“Me? Really?”

“Exactly you.”

“Why? I don’t exactly belong with your people, Bruce – whoever they might be.”

“I was actually just hoping I’d get some free cupcakes.”

At this, you snorted out loud, covering your mouth with your hand. The other clients in the bakery looked at you with a slightly disgusted face, and it only made you laugh louder.

Once you stopped giggling (and after having wiped some tears from your eyes), you nodded and turned to him.

“Alright, fine. Lunch sounds great. Although – I’m sure you’re followed everywhere. And I don’t really want to be the latest gossip magazine cover.” You crossed your arms. Bruce nodded in understanding. After all, he knew how troublesome the media could be, especially when they were looking for any crumbs that might get them any insight into someone’s life.

(Un)fortunately for him, they couldn’t see past the playboy persona.

“I’ll take care of that – don’t worry.” Was his honest response. “Let’s say it’s easy for me to… become invisible.”

You leaned against the counter, smile ever so present.

“And how are you going to do that? Gonna wear a cap and sunglasses? A wig? Do we get to wear disguises? Maybe you could wear a mask!” Funny.

“I’ll just leave the American Express at home. Do you think that new Pizza place everyone’s been talking about accepts hundreds?” Bruce joked.

Your snort resonated through the bakery again, and the couple that had glanced at you earlier left, shaking their heads and muttering something about “decorum”.

The rest was history.

You and Bruce had become inseparable from that day onward.

Turns out that around you, he could be just a random guy, like he always wanted.

He started going to your bakery more and more, and convinced your boss to let you experiment with your cupcakes however you wanted.

“How the hell did you manage that?” you asked him, mouth open in wonder. “She told me I had full control of the menu! Two weeks ago, she said she didn’t want to try my sweets!”

“I’m very persuasive,” he replied, biting into a banana flavoured muffin – one of your more recent experiments. “It’s a bit chunky. Kind of bland, doesn’t melt on your mouth like the others do.”

“Yeah, I think I went overboard with the flour…” you mumble, writing something down on your notepad. “Anyways, how persuasive can you be? This woman has drunk the same cup of coffee for like, 40 years. She hates change.”

“Let’s just say I worked my regular Wayne charm.”

At that, you rolled your eyes and hit him with your towel but couldn’t hide the smile that graced your lips.

He’d stop by every day after work, eager to try out your new recipes and have a nice chat. It was freeing to have someone he could call his friend, with whom he could have conversations that weren’t about his job, his money, or his other affairs. It felt nice to be able to share things with you, things he couldn’t find it in himself to share with other people.

It took him a while, but he eventually told you things about himself. Slowly.

He told you about his parents, how much he looked up to his father and how he adored his mother. He told you about his childhood, playing in the gardens of his Manor or watching his father fiddle with the stethoscope, hoping one day he could make a difference just like him. He told you how sometimes he would just watch his mother apply makeup in her face, marvelling at how beautiful she looked. Other women of the high society always looked like they had this world and the next worth of makeup on their faces, but his mother was able to enhance all her natural features with a simple eye pencil or some lipstick.

“Makeup shouldn’t be used to turn yourself into something new,” she’d once told him, applying some sort of clear powder on her face. “Just to complement the beauty you already have.”

He found it easy to relate to that. Not the makeup, necessarily, but the whole “turning into a new person”. Batman was no different than him, nor was he someone different. He just brought out Bruce’s biggest desires, to keep Gotham safe.

In return, you told him about your childhood. About your first years in school, your friends and family. You told him about your passions, your wishes. How you wanted to travel the world and read as many books as possible. How you liked to laze around some Saturdays but couldn’t stay home and just had to get up and leave in others.

Bruce found the duality in you quite entrancing.

Some days, you’d be running around the Manor, goofing around with Alfred, and whipping up new recipes with him, the both of you jamming to old jazz that played on the radio – Alfred had been teaching you swing, and you enjoyed spinning around the room with him as lively tunes played.

(In fact, Bruce had walked in on you and him dancing a few times, and couldn’t help but lean against the doorway, watching and you laughed loudly and tried not to fall whenever his butler spun you around.)

It also went without saying that Alfred was over the moon now that his master no longer seemed to be alone. You might only be one person, but the Manor came alive whenever you were in it, and he relished in knowing Bruce finally had someone he could trust besides himself.

At first, Bruce thought of you as a friend. Someone he could confide in, someone to have a good time with and relax. But as weeks turned to months, he found himself developing stronger feelings. It wasn’t about “having fun” and relaxing anymore, it was now about seeing you, making sure you were alright, listening to your every thought and feelings.

He thought it was normal, though. After all, aren’t friends supposed to care for each other and be eager to spend time together? After all, it had been a while since he had friends. At least ones that spoke to him on the regular, that were there for him. This whole thing was new to him. So, he kept these feelings hidden, convinced they were nothing but the norm, enjoying whatever silly activities you engaged in.

You two had, after all, your own little rituals.

You loved reading – always had, and believed to continue doing so until you were dead and buried. And despite not having a lot of time to do so, Bruce did too. So, it wasn’t long before you two created your own little book club along with Alfred.

You would prepare a batch of cookies, Alfred would make some tea, and Bruce would wait by the fireplace in the living room, since there was really nothing he could contribute with but his insight on the books you were reading.

“So, what’d you think?” he asked, taking a sip from his tea, and placing the mug on the coffee table by his feet.

“I think it was terrible.” You replied.

Bruce nearly spat the drink in his mouth.

“Excuse me?!”

“I said what I said – it was a terrible book.”

“I think you’re the first person ever to call The Great Gatsby a ‘terrible book’.” He raised an eyebrow and looked at Alfred, who was intent on hearing whatever you were going to say next. He too was quite curious, but he had an inkling he knew where you were going with this.

You just shrugged your shoulders and brought your legs to your chair, sitting on top of them. You felt at home in Wayne Manor. Bruce had told you to make yourself comfortable after the third time you visited, and you wasted no time in doing so.

“Jay Gatsby is one pretentious motherfucker,” you say.

“Language!” Alfred tutted.

“Sorry – I meant; Jay Gatsby is one pretentious douchebag.” You bowed your head towards Alfred and the butler nodded in acknowledgment.

“Wait – why?”

“Are you kidding me?” All you could do was scoff. “Gatsby is an obsessive narcissist, an egocentric pathological liar who cares about no one else other than himself, and much probably, a psychopath.”

Bruce was perplexed. Very much so.

“I – I – well. I see.”

“And the way he objectifies Daisy throughout the whole book – he doesn’t even love her! He loves the idea of her. He’s a jerk.”

Bruce couldn’t even interrupt you, because you were on a spree, gesticulating with your arms and talking fast.

“But let’s be honest here, it’s not like she loves him either.”

“She doesn’t?”

“Of course not! She’s a shallow, materialistic, spoiled brat and I can’t stand her!” You finished your little speech by taking a bite out of a cookie and crossing your arms.

“Huh. Right.” Bruce said, grabbing his copy of the book. “Well, I thought it was a great book. And I don’t think Gatsby is any of the things you said.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really. I think he is a misunderstood soul.”

You scoffed. Again.

“He’s a misunderstood ass – “

“Language – “

“He is Alfred!”

“Yes, but you aren’t, and I would like to keep this household clean, for dear Master and Missus Wayne’s sake.” He replied casually, giving you that look you’d learn to interpret as “do not test me you silly little baker, for I am British and have the high ground”, and to which you just stuck your tongue out.

Bruce ignored the both of you and continued.

“And, well, I think he truly did love Daisy.”

“That’s impossible.”

“No, no, and here’s why, he did everything for her.”

“Name one thing.”

“Well, he waited five whole years for her. I think that’s rather romantic. He went great lengths to impress Daisy and win her love. The parties, the money, his whole persona – it wasn’t him, but he did it all for Daisy.” Bruce explained calmly. Alfred looked at him with raised eyebrows and just sipped from his teacup quietly.

“Bruce, the whole thing was a circus.” You reached in front of you to grab another cookie and took a bite out of it, missing the way your friend’s gaze dropped to your lips and then returned to your eyes in just a millisecond. “He was just showing off.”

“Perhaps,” Bruce said, “But perhaps he was just trying to be someone worthy of her. I’m sure love can make people do crazy things.” He wasn’t one to talk. It’s not like he knew what “love” was. He’d crushed on Rachel as kids, but that’s all it was, a silly childhood crush.

Perhaps the love he had for his city could count. He did do crazy things for it. Dressing up as a bat was an example.

You nodded your head a few times, pondering his answer.

“Maybe, yeah. But I don’t think so. If he loved her, he should’ve just said it. There was no need for all the show.”

Alfred raised his eyebrows once again. A very you-ish reply. He was enjoying this immensely.

Bruce replayed her words in his head. He should’ve said it. Surely, it wasn’t that easy. Jay Gatsby wasn’t your average man. He was a mystery. He had secrets and things he needed to hide. It wasn’t as easy as just walking up to Daisy and telling her “I love you”. It wasn’t that simple. “You think so?” he asked.

“Well, yeah! Absolutely – I mean, why complicate things?” you replied. “He should’ve just dropped the luxuries, the parties, he should’ve just stopped with all of the eccentric millionaire thing, looked her in the eyes and say, ‘I love you’. Simple.”

"Absolutely! I mean, why complicate things? Just look someone in the eyes and say, ‘I love you.’ Simple.”

“Simple, huh?”

You nodded, taking another sip from your tea – you drank it sickeningly sweet, with lots of honey, while he preferred one or two spoons of sugar.

“Yeah. Simple. No need for the fancy parties, and mysterious acts. Just be genuine.”

“That’s an interesting perspective,” he mumbled. “But sometimes people have reasons for not saying what’s in their hearts. Sometimes they must hide their feelings.” It was true. You didn’t know he was Batman – you couldn’t. He needed to keep you safe. All you knew was that he worked a lot, plenty of times exhausting himself and arriving home super late. It was for the best.

Alfred hummed thoughtfully, which earned him a curious look from the both of you.

“Oh, nothing, nothing. Please, do continue,” he said, gesturing for you to go on.

You gave him a weird look but simply turned to face Bruce once again.

“Reasons? Like what?”

Bruce couldn’t look you in the eye now. He shrugged and got suddenly very interested by the coffee table by his feet.

“Fear, maybe. Fear of what might happen if they open up. Fear of losing someone precious.”

You hummed, “Well, in my book, it’s always better to be honest and take the risk. Life’s too short for illusions. If Gatsby had just said it, maybe things would’ve been different. Who knows? But I still think he was one pompous son of a bitch.” You leaned back in your chair with a smug grin and finished the rest of your tea.

Alfred just excused himself and made his way towards the kitchen.

You certainly did bring some life into this once empty house.

You were lazing around in a Sunday afternoon, mindlessly scrolling your phone as a rerun of a show you liked played on TV. Even after a few years, it could still get some laughs out of you, and you’d look at the screen and smile.

All of a sudden, the couch dipped next to you.

Bruce had jumped over it, and landed next to you, sitting down comfortably, as if parkouring around Wayne Manor was something he did on the regular.

“Shit! Holy – Bruce!” You nearly jumped out of your seat, clutching your chest. Sometimes you wondered if Bruce wasn’t some sort of ninja. Being able to hide himself and be so silent wasn’t normal, and at times, to be frank, a little bit creepy.

He acted as if nothing was wrong and turned to you.

“Friday night, charity gala, you and me,” he said, matter-of-factly, as if he’d simply asked you what the weather was like outside.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, the Carringtons are throwing a big party this Friday. It’s supposed to be this big fundraiser. The profits will go for new police facilities. As if those corrupt idiots needed them…” He sighed. “And clearly, Bruce Wayne must attend. And, as expected, he has to bring someone.”

You whined and threw your head back in frustration. You’d been to a couple of galas with Bruce. Most of them were dreadfully boring, filled with fake people whose only purpose there was to flaunt their money and pretend to care about whatever topics seemed most controversial. You hated them. The fake smiles, the gross men leering on you, the women shamelessly throwing themselves at Bruce (not that you minded. After all, you two were just friends. It just made you uncomfortable that they were so forward about his advances. Clearly, he wasn’t alone. He had you. Could they not see it? But of course, you two were just friends. Which meant you weren’t jealous. You just felt sorry for them, and extremely uncomfortable whenever they looked at, spoke to, or touched him. Duh.)

“I can’t go.”

Bruce grimaced.

“Why?”

“I’m busy. Sorry Bruce, I have plans.” What a liar.

Your friend smirked and nudged his head towards the kitchen.

“Alfred checked your schedule – you’re free for the next two weeks.”

Your jaw dropped and you looked back at the kitchen, where Alfred innocently prepared a few sandwiches.

“Damn him! I swear that man must’ve been a British spy!” you muttered, shaking your head.

“So, are you coming with me?” Bruce pressed on.

“I can’t – I have to return some videotapes.” You replied smugly.

Bruce gave you a dry laugh and threw a pillow in your direction, which you failed to dodge.

“Very funny. I’m serious – I can’t go by myself. Look, I know what this is going to sound like, but the Carringtons are only doing this to show off. They don’t care about the police; they want to show Gotham just how rich their grandfather’s money has made them. They’ve been around for years and never once donated – why now?”

“Just because you have to go, doesn’t mean that I have!” you too threw a pillow at him, but as always, his reflexes were on point, and he managed to catch it mid-air.

“Look, you’d be doing me a huge favour.”

“I have literally nothing to wear.”

Bruce gave you a blank stare – that excuse did not stick anymore, not after he’d bought you a different dress for each party he had taken you to (“Think of it as a thank you gift”, he said).

“Just take a model. Or an actress. Or some other celebrity. You know me Bruce, I don’t belong with those people. They’re not my crowd.” You grabbed another pillow and prepared to throw it at him.

“I can’t stand another night of pretending to spend my free time buying hotels and yachts.” Bruce said your name softly and you let your guard down, lowering your arm. “It’s not me, and you know it.” You looked into those chocolate brown eyes that seemed to have soften – those eyes of his always made you melt, and you often found yourself saying yes to his every whim.

You pondered your choices.

He could take a model or an actress. The headlines would love speculating who the hell was Bruce Wayne messing around with this time. He’d have to pretend to be someone he was not for a whole evening – though you didn’t know why; only that, for some reason, he had a reputation to upkeep – and the next morning you’d wake up and seethe as you watched the shots paparazzi got of your best friend and some random floozy slobbering on top of him.

Or, you could go with him. It’d be a pain in the ass to pretend to like all of those people and to interact with those phony idiots who thought money was worth anything and would try their best to snake their ways in Bruce’s close circle. But you’d spend a nice evening with your friend, wear a pretty dress, drink some expensive champagne and be able to laugh at everyone else with him. There were worse fates than that, you were sure.

“Fine,” you sighed, “I’ll come with you.”

Bruce did a small “yes” gesture with his arm, and then grabbed a nearby pillow. “Now, where were we?”

“Oh – OH don’t you dare, Bruce Wayne!” You lifted your arm once again, but before you could throw the pillow in his direction, he’d grabbed your arm and pulled you to him. You fell on top of his body, hands on either side of his head as they bore the weight of your body. Your face was inches away from his, and all you could do was stare into those brown eyes that had you so weak.

You blinked repeatedly, before quickly getting up. Your cheeks were flaring up and you grabbed your phone, standing up from the couch.

Bruce, on his end, was speechless. He watched as you stood up, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“I – I should go. I need to… yeah, I gotta – I gotta do something. I’ll see you later.” You mumbled, and within seconds, you were out the door.

When you were gone, Alfred left the kitchen and walked towards the couch where Bruce was sitting, still silently staring at the wall.

“Is everything alright, Master Wayne?” he asked, although he didn’t really need an answer. He knew exactly what was going on with him. After all, he’d raised this boy like his own son for years.

“Yes,” Bruce cleared his throat, nodding. “Yes, yes, I am. Everything’s fine. How about those sandwiches you were making?” He tried changing the topic, but it was too late.

As Alfred walked back to the kitchen, he couldn’t help but think that he should probably schedule an optometrist appointment for his master. After all, one can’t help but be concerned when such a smart, capable man was so blind to matters of the heart. Almost as blind as a bat, one could say. He’d keep this joke for later. Bruce would hate it. Even better.

Funnily enough, Alfred wasn’t the only one who thought Bruce was blind to his feelings.

In fact, it seemed like everyone could see how smitten the Wayne billionaire was with you.

When you two went out, he would look at you with this sparkle in his eyes, looking at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

You walked into the party, arm linked with his, and it was as if the whole world stopped to look at you two.

Everyone knew about your existence – it wasn’t the first time you accompanied Bruce to parties – Bruce Wayne and his close friend. Friend. Yeah, sure. If the glances he stole were any indication, the Wayne heir was nothing but completely enamoured with you. In fact, it was incredible how much he’d changed. His whole attitude changed when he was accompanied by you. No longer was he the reckless billionaire who drank too much and humiliated himself, but the elegant man who liked to engage in conversations (as long as the topics were interesting) and had a heart of gold.

Yes, everyone seemed to spot the change in demeanour whenever you two were together.

“Bruce!” A voice could be heard from the distance, and Rachel Dawes made her way towards the both of you. She smiled and spoke your name once she noticed you were the one accompanying her childhood friend, before hugging you. “Oh, it’s so nice to see you here!”

You hugged her back and gave her a genuine smile. You’d met Rachel before more than a few times – she was a lovely young woman with a great sense of justice, and you were sure she was going to do great things for Gotham’s wellbeing. You also enjoyed her company greatly, since she had once told you all of the embarrassing stories about Bruce’s childhood. “I had no idea you were going to be here!”

“Yeah, well,” she looked around and smiled, seemingly looking for someone. “I was just as surprised as you were.”

Then, a very familiar face emerged from the crowd, calling out “Rachel!” and walking to her side.

“There you were – you left so abruptly; I thought something was wrong.” The man said, before turning to look at you and Bruce. You took him in. Dirty blond hair and a familiar cleft chin. You furrowed your eyebrows, before it finally clicked in.

“You’re Harvey Dent – I’ve seen you on TV before,” you said, and he smiled in acknowledgement.

“That would be me, yes.” He put forward his hand, and you shook it, introducing yourself.

Harvey then turned to look at Bruce, extending his hand to him.

“And you must be Bruce Wayne. Rachel talks about you a lot.”

Bruce shook it and nodded.

“Hopefully she hasn’t disclosed everything about me, otherwise I’d be ruined.”

The two men chuckled, and you took that opportunity to look at Rachel. You looked from her to Harvey, opened your mouth and wiggled your eyebrows, earning a laugh from her. Rachel moved to your side as Bruce and Harvey spoke about Gotham and took your arm.

“Well, well, Miss Dawes. Is there anything you’d like to tell us?” you asked in a hushed tone, still wiggling your eyebrows up and down. “How’d you meet?”

“At work. Harvey is running for district attorney. One thing led to another, and…” she trailed off, and you nudged her torso with your arm.

“And now you’re shagging future attorney Harvey Dent. Look at you go!”

Rachel covered her mouth with her hands and supressed a scoff.

“You’re unbelievable, and I never want to hear those words coming from your mouth ever! It’s just a casual thing, we’ve only gone on a few dates. Besides, you’re the one attending a charity gala with Gotham’s most eligible bachelor. I think every woman in this room has you on a death list.”

“Pftt,” you waved your hand dismissively, “You know we’re just friends. Nothing for those women to be jealous about.”

“Ah, I see. You’re just friends.” Rachel nodded, feigning seriousness in her voice.

“Yes, we are. Stop with that face!”

“What face?”

“That face you always do,” you motioned towards her face, nearly pouting. “We are! And that’s the end of the discussion! I don’t even know why we’re talking about my non-existent relationship with Bruce when you’re probably going to be First Lady someday – this is huge.”

Rachel swatted you with her purse and returned to Harvey’s side before giving you a cheeky smile – it felt nice to have a girl friend you could talk to in these scenarios. Usually, it was just you and Bruce, which, however pleasant, wasn’t the same thing as having a girl in there. You were happy to catch her off work – Rachel seemed like a different person at the office. While there, she maintained a strong and serious attitude, you were happy to see her when she had no work business to worry about and could simply be a girl with you.

“Well, I’m afraid I’ve wasted too much of your time, Mr. Wayne,” Harvey said, shaking Bruce’s hand again. “It was a pleasure to meet Rachel’s oldest friend.” He then turned to you, “And a pleasure to meet you too, Miss.” “Likewise,” you replied.

Bruce nodded.

“Of course. I’ll be sure to send you a nice bottle of Chardonnay when you’re elected district attorney,” he said in his best careless billionaire voice, and nodded at Rachel before the two walked away. “Who would’ve thought,” he muttered to you, beckoning a butler who was carrying a tray of champagne glasses close to him.

“Well, I think they’re lovely together,” you smiled and grabbed a glass, smiling once the liquid hit your lips. Champagne was always welcome.

“Well, you think everyone looks lovely together. You’re a sap.” You laugh at Bruce’s comment and hold onto his arm. He brings you close, absentmindedly, and the two of you walk around the party, occasionally being stopped by the average donor.

After eating some entrees and mingling with the guests, soft music started to play and ring throughout the room. You looked up, pleasantly surprised, and tugged at Bruce’s arm.

“Come on,”

You didn’t have to tell him twice – he was growing tired of pretending to share the same interests as these vile people. He wanted a respite from keeping the charade up, so he gladly took your hand and led you to the middle of what had become the dancefloor. You two weren’t the only ones in there, a couple more pairs having decided to dance.

Bruce gently held your waist and pulled you close to him, his other hand coming to lift yours.

“Thank you,” he spoke, ignoring the way everyone’s eyes glued onto the two of you.

“I could see you were about to actually punch that man right in the face,” you chuckled, looking at the person in question. He was a middle-aged man who could probably stand to lose a few pounds for the sake of his health, who was trying to talk Bruce into introducing him a couple of models. You just had to come to the rescue, because Bruce actually looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel. Thankfully, he was a good actor and simply promised the man he would surely hook him up with the woman of his dreams.

“I think it goes without saying I’m not introducing jack shit to him. I’m pretty sure he’s assaulted his female employers. I should have someone investigate it.”

“My, my. Bruce Wayne, ever the White Knight.” You smiled, and you could swear that for some minutes, the entire world faded away as the soft melodies of Camille Saint-Saëns filled the air.

He snorted at that but did not say anything.

The two of you kept dancing. You found looking into his eyes extremely hard, so you avoided his gaze, looking straight ahead at behind his shoulder continuously.

“I still haven’t told you how beautiful you look tonight,” Bruce finally broke the silence between you two, and you returned his gaze. He’d bought you a floor-length black John Galliano gown with delicate lace trim and a bias cut, and you had actually screamed into your pillow once you saw it – it was far too pretty.

“Thank you,” you reply, brushing some invisible dust from his shoulders. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Bruce lowered his voice and looked you in the eyes, making your breath hitch in your throat.

“I mean it. You do look stunning.”

The two of you stopped dancing for a few moments, and you were unable to look away from his almost magnetic gaze. Time seemed to stand still, and you gripped his shoulder tighter, to make sure you were real, and he was real, and this whole ordeal was real.

He was just about to speak again, when you were interrupted by a loud, shrill voice.

“Mr. Wayne! Oh, what a pleasure to have you here!”

You quickly pulled away from him as Catherine Carrington, a woman in her mid-40s with long, blonde hair approached the both of you and placed two loud kisses on either side of his cheeks. You looked away, trying to figure out how to properly breathe again, and fanned yourself with your hands.

Harrold Carrington, Catherine’s husband walked to her side and shook Bruce’s hand, far too interested in talking to you. You stifled a laugh – whoever was in charge of his wig had tone a terrible job, because it was clear as day his hairline was receding, and the hair he had on was fake.

“Ah, you must be the mysterious friend everyone has been talking about. We’ve seen you around a few times, haven’t we Miss? But I don’t think we’ve properly met – I’m Harrold Carrington. And may I say, you look splendid this evening.”

None of the Carringtons seemed interested in their spouses. Catherine was fawning over Bruce, and Harrold’s eyes lingered far too long on your exposed collarbone and cleavage. So much so, that you turned from him uncomfortably. Bruce was quick to notice your discomfort, and pulled you next to him once again, wrapping a protective arm around your waist.

“I’d appreciate it if you could keep your eyes on the lady’s face, as opposed to her chest, Mr. Carrington,” he said with a smile that you could only identify as fake, and that smug voice he used when he was feeling particularly cocky.

All of the colour drained from Harrold’s face, and he stuttered, trying to form a coherent sentence – which he failed miserably. “I – I, well – I wasn’t – I would never! I – I was just –“

Bruce faced Catherine once again and gave her another fake smile.

“Lovely party Mrs. Carrington. Very nice of you to raise money for the Gotham Police Department. Very charitable, indeed. And the champagne is just splendid. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I heard someone was eating caviar, and it’s not a real party without it, now is it?”

Effortlessly, he brought you away from the couple.

Once you were out of sight, he looked at you with a worried expression.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yeah – he was just creepy. Shit, I hate galas.”

“Tell me about it,” Bruce sighed, before shaking his head. “How long have we been here for?”

“About two hours.”

“How about we ditch at three? I think it’d be a crime to abandon this party now. Especially when you look this dazzling.”

He was giving you that look once again, the one you couldn’t quite decipher, and you felt butterflies in your stomach.

Bruce, on the other hand, was freaking out. You looked lovely, even more so than usual. He’d been dancing with you, and all was perfect, and then that hag Catherine had to go and ruin everything.

Was it too much to ask for a quiet dance with his friend?

Friend.

The word tasted wrong in his mouth.

No, you weren’t his friend. At least not anymore.

He thought about your dance moments earlier. How you’d held onto him, far too shy to look him in the eye, lips slightly parted and eyes sparkly. He thought of how easily you leaned into his touch and how he liked having you by his side.

He thought of how much he enjoyed spending time with you, how much he laughed in your presence, how free he felt when he was with you. He could be himself, something that he felt he couldn’t be anywhere else. You were his safe haven. You were everything.

It was that night Bruce Wayne realised he was in love with you.

One time the both of you went out to do some Christmas shopping.

(“In November?” Bruce had asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Christmas sales have already started! And I bet everyone’s going to start super soon, so we need to get to it!” Was your reply. Bruce could only sigh and agree, like he always did when it came to you.)

Besides, it was the first Christmas you’d be able to spend together after 2 years of friendship. The last two had Bruce way too busy with his company (at least that’s what he told you. In reality, he had been tracking down a few criminals who’d been wreaking havoc days before.

The main point was: after two years of being friends, you would finally get to spend Christmas together. It’s not that you’d suffered those Christmases without him; you had friends and family. But you wanted to spend the holidays with who you now considered to be your closest friend.

Bruce, however, wanted to spend Christmas with the woman he was in love with. He hadn’t found the courage to tell you – not yet. He was afraid of ruining things, of hurting you. So he kept silent, relishing in the friendship the both of you had.

Approaching the mall, you had a small list in your hand, filled with names of everyone you wanted to buy a gift for. He had around five people in mind, so he did not need all those preparations.

Once you were in the crowded mall, Bruce would hold you close to him, shielding you from everyone who might bump into you. His hand would respectfully be in the small of your back, and if he needed you to get out of someone’s way (people who refused to look up from their phones were the worst), he would slide it to your waist and gently pull you towards him.

You’d stopped at a beauty store, wanting to buy a new skin care package for your closest friend at work – heavens knew how badly you needed her to keep you sane – so you’d asked Bruce for his opinion on a myriad of perfumes.

“See, I like this one, but I think the smell is a bit too strong,” you mumbled, squeezing some of the hand lotion’s sample on your hand and applying it there. “Here,” you reached your hand to him, and nearly all the air was sucked out of your lungs when Bruce carefully reached for it, holding your pulse in his and bringing it to his face. His lips nearly brushed against your skin as he took the smell of the lotion in, and at least a dozen of women who were shopping nearby swooned.

Bruce let go of your hand just as gently and you blinked a few times, trying to wake up from your little trance.

“It is a bit strong, yeah. You mentioned she’s got a sensitive nose, so maybe something less floral?”

You were quick to nod and walk away, afraid he’d notice the way your cheeks heat up and your pupils dilated.

Once you turned away from him, focusing on the other hand lotions, he sighed, still feeling a buzzing sensation in his hand. It was as if he could still feel your skin against his, and he had to shake his head to return to the task at hand. Control yourself.

At a clothing store, you held up different sweatshirts next to him, asking for his opinion on a gift to your father. He gave you his earnest opinion, and insisted on carrying all your bags once you were done.

“Bruce – come on, I can carry them. I’m not a baby,” you’d told him, sighing in exasperation.

“Just allow me. You’re still picking up things left and right, it’s better if I carry these for you.”

You two checked out a jewellery shop – you’d been saving up to buy your mom a pair of earrings, and while you busied yourself looking through rows and rows of pairs, looking for the one you had your eyes on, Bruce quickly excused himself, and turned to a shop helper.

Approaching the counter, he placed the delicate pair of pearl earrings next to the cashier, glancing around just to make sure you weren’t paying attention to him.

“Would you like these to be gift wrapped?” The cashier asked.

“Yes please.”

Bruce continued glancing around. You too were speaking to a shop helper, pointing to the delicate pair of gold earrings you wanted to get.

“A gift for a special someone?” The cashier asked once again with a polite smile. Bruce wasn’t dumb. If he were anyone else, this would be a regular, standard question asked by shop clerks to keep a friendly conversation going. But he’s not just anyone else. He’d noticed the way the woman had glanced him up and down with a wishful expression and could bet all his money that if he were to reveal more than necessary, then she would turn to any gossip magazine as soon as he was out the door and spill whatever nonsense she thought it was going on.

He gave her a curt nod, paid for the earrings (now neatly placed inside of a box and wrapped with a pretty red ribbon), and returned to your side, hiding the box inside his jacket’s pocket.

“Did you find them?” he asked once he got to your side, and if it were anyone else, you would’ve jumped, but by now you were used to Bruce. You seemed to lean into his side and smiled, looking at the pair of hoops the shop helper brought to the counter.

“Yeah – she’s gonna love them! I was super scared they’d be sold out Bruce, I’ve been working my ass off to get these. I’m so proud of myself,” your smile was contagious, and Bruce found himself bringing you closer to him by the waist and giving you one of his super rare smiles. Once again, every woman within a five-mile radio sighed, basically eating him up with their eyes. It was no secret Bruce Wayne was a handsome man – not to mention Gotham’s most eligible bachelor – but to see him act so affectionate in public was a completely different thing, and it was clear more than woman had gotten jealous just looking at you.

(Their boyfriends were not happy with the way said women ogled Bruce up and down.)

“I’m proud of you too.” Bruce replied. It was true. You were a hardworking woman, and he beamed with pride at your accomplishments.

Of course he didn’t tell you he bribed the store to keep the earrings stored until you came along to buy them – he wasn’t about to let someone snatch the thing you’d been working so hard to get – but it didn’t matter. You’d earned it.

You grinned at him and reluctantly broke free from his hold.

“I’m gonna go pay for these, meet me outside?”

He nodded and walked outside of the store, hand coming to pat the box inside of his pocket. They’d look incredible with his mother’s pearl necklace, that’s for sure.

He carried your things to the limo, and upon arriving to the Manor, he distracted you with promises of hot chocolate and marshmallows, before handing Alfred the little white box and telling him to keep it a secret. The rest of the evening was spent with the two of you discussing presents, drinking your hot chocolate, and watching some Christmas movies as the wood in the fireplaced cracked piece by piece, enveloping you both in a cozy warmth.

Later that month, the two of you were sitting at an expensive café, having a few treats, and talking about your Christmas shopping. Although the place was very fancy and its prices had shocked you, so had the quality of their food.

“This is garbage,” you said, eyeing the cupcake on your plate. “Holy shit, who baked these? It feels like I’m chewing on a brick!”

“Yours are much better, yes,” Bruce agreed, taking his own cupcake, and looking at it carefully. “And that’s this awful taste?”

“I think she added lemon juice, but it doesn’t work in this recipe, not at all. You’ll see, it’ll basically nullify the sweetness of it, and the whole thing is just gonna taste like one sour cupcake. Gosh, people pay their rent’s worth of money for these?”

Bruce could listen to you talk for hours on end. The way your eyes lit up when you found a topic you were interested in, and how genuinely passionate you were about your hobbies. Your genuineness was something he praised and found himself looking for more and more. In fact, one of the reasons he’d taken you to this specific café was because he knew the cupcakes sucked – he’d eaten there before. He just wanted to hear you talk about them.

An old woman approached your table, wearing a Santa Claus had on top of her head, and a few Christmas related pins on her waitress apron.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” she asked with a smile.

“Oh, no thank you, we’re fine.” You replied, returning it «.

“I see. Well, I’d just like to say, it’s a real gift to see such precious young love.” The woman gestured at the both of you, and your cheeks flared up. “This city can be so dark and gloomy sometimes; it warms my heart to know that love still prevails on top of all. You two are such a lovely couple.”

“We’re –“ you coughed, trying to clear your throat. “We’re not – we’re not a couple.”

“Oh!”

“Yeah, we’re just – we’re just friends!” you were quick to correct her and refused to meet Bruce in the eye.

Oh, right. Bruce. He was staring at the old woman, completely lost in thought. This woman thought you two were a couple. Did you look like it? And why had you shut her down so quickly? Did you hate the idea that much? Would it be so terrible if the two of you were to date?

“Oh, I am so sorry then, my apologies!” the waitress was quick to apologise. “It’s just – you two look rather lovely together. I’m sorry for the intrusion.” She walked away and you covered your cheeks with your hands, trying to mask the sudden blush that had overcome you.

Bruce, on his end, was still staring at where the woman had been. Did you two look like a couple that much? He wouldn’t mind it. No, not really, he wouldn’t mind being a couple with you. He could finally drop that stupid playboy persona, be one step closer to his real self. He could protect you and always keep you safe and closer to him. He wondered what it would be like to wake up to you every morning and be greeted with that dazzling smile of yours. Would you ask him for five more minutes in bed? Act all grumpy until you had your morning coffee? Would you drag him out of his bedroom to start the day and be productive?

“Shall we go?” you interrupted his thoughts, placing your now empty mug on top of your plate. “It’s gonna get dark soon, and I wanted to see the Christmas lights.” Your voice was lower, still tinted with some nervousness. Bruce snapped out of it and nodded, walking towards the counter to pay the bill.

While he was gone, you made your way to the bathroom and splashed some water on your face, to wake yourself up and hopefully cool down.

Once you were ready, you walked out of the café, strolling the streets of Gotham.

Sometimes it surprised you how pretty your city could be. Sure, there was chaos and corruption, and most of the times it was a fucking shithole, but it was still home, and the tall buildings and bright lights could still take your breath away.

You and Bruce walked side by side. You were still far too nervous to look at him, so you kept your distance. Bruce, respectful as ever, remained by your side, refusing to touch you until you gave him permission. As you were looking at the prettily decorated shop windows and houses, he could see the way your body shivered and trembled.

That’s what you got for refusing to bring a jacket because, “your outfit looked far too pretty to be hidden behind a coat”.

“Cold?” he asked.

“N-no. Not at all. I’m fine. I told you; these tights are really warm.” Your voice was trembling, and your teeth were close to chattering. A part of Bruce wanted to see you fight for your case just a bit longer, while the other just longed to envelop you in his arms and keep the cold away.

“Oh, really? Because I’m pretty sure the tips of your fingers are turning blue.” He said with a smug expression.

“No, I’m fine.” You replied, nodding eagerly. “I told you; I wouldn’t be cold. I’m not.”

Bruce just nodded and kept walking by your side.

After a few minutes, it was far too obvious you were freezing. Your body was trembling, your teeth were chattering, and he was sure he could see your lips becoming a dark shade of purple.

Wordlessly, Bruce began to remove his jacket.

“What are you doing?” you asked, turning to him in confusion.

“Preventing you from catching pneumonia,” he replied, handing it to you.

“N-no, T-that’s not n-necessary, Bruce. I’m fine. I’m n-not cold. I’m f-fine! See? Just p-peachy.”

Bruce had faced criminals and villains and corrupt cops, and they’d all lied to him at one point or another. None was as bad as you.

He gave you one of his “I told you so” looks, and you nearly pouted, spreading your arms as he helped you put the jacket on. Almost instantly, you felt warmth spread through your body and sighed in relief. Bruce also removed his scarf, and carefully wrapped around your neck, hands lingering on your face for longer than necessary when he brushed a few strands away from it.

“Better?” he murmured.

You looked at him through your lashes. He was close. Very close. So close, that you could hear your heartbeat hammering on your chest. You gave him a soft “mhm” and he returned to your side, keeping a respectful distance from you.

“Aren’t you cold?” you asked him. It made you feel terrible – it was freezing in Gotham, and you’d taken his only sources of comfort.

“I’m fine – believe me. I’d much rather have you not freezing on me.” He replied.

“Are you sure? It’s very cold.”

“I promise.”

You nodded and continued your silent stroll.

Suddenly, while crossing the street, some careless motorbike showed up out of nowhere. You shrieked in surprise, and froze in your place, closing your eyes in fear. A pair of strong arms pulled you away, and you collided with a strong figure. Bruce was holding you close, cursing the driver under his breath. Once you looked up to you look at him, he turned to you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, looking all over your face to make sure you were unharmed.

“Yeah – just – that dickhead –“

“I know. It’s like you can’t trust anyone with a license these days.” He muttered. It hurt to part from you. It was like you were made to stand next to him, body slotting perfectly with his. Reluctantly, he pulled away from you, giving you space, but was surprised when you held onto his arm, like you usually do.

You looked at him, silently asking for permission, which he granted. You scooted closer to him, and he smiled.

The two of you continued walking through the streets of Gotham, making comments on the architecture, the lighting, the people. There were small stalls selling all sorts of trinkets and goods, a sort of small Christmas market, and you smiled as you saw kids running around with balloons or cups of hot chocolate. It was dark and gloomy, but once again, Gotham could be so very beautiful.

“A pretty flower for a pretty lady?” An old vendor asked, extending a pretty rose in your direction.

“Oh, no thank you – “ you mumbled, shaking your head, but Bruce was quicker.

“Thank you.” He nodded, taking the flower in his hands. He handed the man a bill (and surely a big one at that, because the man’s eyes widened, and he stared at it for quite a while before thanking Bruce profusely.)

Bruce turned to you and handed you the flower.

You weren’t sure if it was from his jacket, or if your whole body had simply decided to set itself on fire. You took the flower and brought it up to your nose, the intoxicating smell of it filling your senses.

“Thank you,” you said, still looking at it. No one had ever bought you flowers.

“A pretty flower for a pretty lady,” he repeated the old man’s words, and continued walking with you by his side, but not without hearing the old man say something about how “beautiful it was to see love bringing people together”. You didn’t seem to have heard it, but Bruce did, and he smiled.

It was Christmas Eve, and you were in Wayne Manor, having dinner with Bruce and Alfred (whom he begged to take a seat at the table with the two of you). There was wine and plenty of food, and the three of you had a great time, sharing funny stories and anecdotes and just enjoying each other’s companies.

You had promised your family to visit them the day after and were dead set on spending the Eve with Bruce.

After dinner, you sat near the fireplace, talking about books, movies, and whatever silly topic that came to mind. You, with your legs comfortably spread on the couch, Alfred on the big chair, and Bruce on the floor, by your feet. To him, that was the closest he had to spending Christmas with his family, and wondered if his parents would’ve enjoyed your company. Of course they’d have, he thought, you’re perfect.

After the three of you had played a few games (Alfred had won at charades, his Batman impression making you laugh for five minutes straight), you stood up announcing that, since it was almost midnight, you wanted everyone to open their gifts. It was more about you giving yours away than opening them, really – you were quite proud of the gifts you’d bought and wanted Bruce’s and Alfred’s reactions as soon as possible.

“Alright, alright, alright, me first! Here – Alfred, these are for you!” You handed him about five different packages, and he looked at you with a fond expression in his eyes.

“You didn’t have to, Miss.”

“Well, but I did. I need to spoil my swing partner, don’t I?”

He smiled at your antics and slowly opened the packages, one by one. Inside, there were a few woollen sweaters with matching-coloured ties.

“They’re really warm, you know. And it’s real wool – the quality of these is amazing! And you can even wear them without the ties, for a more casual look. What do you think? Do you like them?” you asked eagerly, hoping to get the response you wanted.

“I do, Miss. Thank you. These are lovely.”

You beamed and hugged him tightly. “Promise? There’s a receipt somewhere if you don’t like them – but I just thought they looked so cool and they were so pretty and the fabric is so soft, and – “

“Yes, Miss. I promise. Thank you. These are splendid.”

“Well, since we’re spoiling Alfred, I don’t really want to get left out.” Bruce joked, before reaching for an envelope sitting on top of the Christmas tree (decorated by the both of you on the first of December, thank you very much.) He handed his butler the envelope and sat back, awaiting his reply.

“So, you’ve finally decided to get rid of me.” Alfred said, looking at the contents of the envelope intently.

“Don’t be so dramatic, it’s just a few weeks.” Bruce replied smugly. “If anyone deserves a vacation in this house, it’s you.”

When Alfred didn’t reply, Bruce raised an eyebrow, worry starting to pool in his stomach.

“Alfred? Is everything okay?”

Alfred sighed and shook the envelope in his head.

“A ticket to the Maldives, Master Wayne? You’ve outdone yourself this time.”

Bruce grinned, nodding. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I do indeed, but, if I may express a tiny complaint…”

“Of course, Alfred. You can always speak your mind.”

“You’re a bit of a cheapskate, Master Wayne.”

You burst out laughing, nodding along with Alfred.

“A cheapskate. I see. And why is that?”

“After all I’ve done for you, three weeks of vacation seems a bit stingy, don’t you think?” Although he was saying this, he had a smile playing in his lips. Clearly none of it was serious.

“It’s not like I can function without you Alfred. Can’t have you enjoying too much time off, now, can we? You might remember just how fantastic life is outside this place and never return. You’ll be here forever. You’ve changed my diapers when I was born, and you’ll change them when I’m old and gray.”

“I knew I should’ve never accepted Thomas Wayne’s job offer back then.” He muttered. But he then turned to Bruce and gave him an earnest smile. “Thank you, sir. This is very thoughtful of you.”

After that, it was his turn to give you your presents. He gave Bruce a (very expensive) bottle of wine, that he expressed “wanted it to be opened on a very special occasion” with a wink – which made Bruce clear his throat and change the subject. You received a burgundy scarf he’d brought from his latest trip to England, from a shop you’ve expressed your admiration for a few times.

“Holy – oh my god! This is incredible, I mean, look at it!” You hugged him tightly and wrapped the scarf around your neck, not caring that it was far too warm inside the Manor for you to require a scarf.

“Well, now, it seems to be getting rather late for me,” he announced, standing up.

“Oh? You don’t wanna stay here until midnight?”

Alfred shook his head.

“I’m afraid not, Miss. I’m quite tired. I’ll be retiring for the night.”

“Alright, Alfred. Goodnight.” Bruce said with a curt nod.

“Goodnight, sir. Goodnight, Miss.”

You’d turned away to investigate your scarf once again, you missed the look Alfred gave his master, which made him sigh and look at you fondly.

“Alright – now it’s my turn! I need to go get your gift, just wait in here!” You were quick to stand up and disappear into the hallway. You’d been gone for a few minutes, so Bruce went after you, wondering if everything was alright. He bumped into you near the grand staircase at the entrance, and you jumped.

“Christ – you need to stop scaring me like that!” you reprimanded him.

Bruce chuckled, and you shook your head.

“Anyway,” you mumbled, presenting him with a small black box. “This is for you. I know it’s not nearly as fancy as the ones you already have but – well, it’s Christmas and it’s the thought that counts, is it not?” There was a certain nervousness in your voice, Bruce could feel it.

He gently took the box from you, and opened it, revealing a fancy looking black Hugo Boss watch. His fingers trailed the screen and the expensive leather strap.

“I know you have a ton of those, but I thought, hey, this one’s special, this one’s from me!” Before you could keep on with your nervous ramblings, Bruce brought you close, hugging you tightly. You smiled against his chest and wrapped your hands around his torso. This was nice. This was comfortable and familiar and nice.

“Thank you,” he whispered into your hair, and you almost melted at the cadence of his voice.

“You’re welcome.” You replied.

When you two pulled away, something caught his eye. Looking up, he realised the both of you were standing right underneath a few branches of mistletoe. You followed his eyes and blushed furiously, your whole body heating up.

Bruce said your name and you turned to look at him, feeling as light as a feather.

“Look, I – there’s something I would like to tell you.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

Bruce thought of all you’d been through together. Laughter, tears, giggles, and scowls. You’d had great times, reading books, walking around, spending time together, and bad times, when he blew you off, choosing Gotham city at night over you. He thought of all he told you, all he trusted you with.

“I just wanted to say that I really enjoy spending time with you,” he began.

“I enjoy spending time with you too.” You inched closer to him, hands still on his chest.

“You’re amazing, and I’m so glad to have you in my life. You see through my charade. I can be myself when I’m around you.”

He thought back on the charity gala, on you wearing that lovely black dress, dancing with him. He thought of holding your hand and pulling you close to him to keep you safe. He thought of your sparkly eyes and delicate lips, and how much he could stare into the former and how badly he wanted to kiss the later.

“Thank you for all you’ve done for me. I guess what I’m trying to say is…”

He thought about how badly he wanted to always be with you. How much he’d love to wake up next to you, feel your skin against his, be able to shout from the rooftops that you’re his and his alone. He thought about dropping to one knee and seeing you walking down an aisle wearing the prettiest of white dresses. He saw a lifetime with you, side by side.

“What I’m trying to say is…”

He thought about Batman.

How he’d have to cancel date after date after date, prioritising the black suit over your relationship. He thought of you getting worried sick when he got home late, frowning as you looked at his scars and bruises. He could see it vividly, how you’d cry and beg him not to leave you, to choose you over the city for once in his life, and how he’d leave you to cry all of your tears as he put the cowl on.

“Is…”

“Is…?” You pressed further, eyes dropping to his lips.

He saw argument after argument, saw you screaming at him, accusing him of not loving you. He saw nights spent in the couch, because you were far too angry to let him in your bed. He saw your sad eyes welling up with tears in the middle of romantic dates after he’d told you he had to go because the bat signal was shining in the night sky. He thought about someone finding his identity and going after you first and foremost. He saw you tied up in some random chair, mouth gagged and tears running down your streak as some criminal tortured you to get to him.

He saw your lifeless body inside a coffin, skin devoid of colour, eyes closed, to never open again, and how he’d spend the rest of his life hating both himself and his mask.

He thought about Bruce Wayne, and Batman.

And he realised you couldn’t possibly love both.

“Is… You’re a great friend. Thank you.” He squeezed your arms in a comforting manner and walked away, leaving you wide eyed and speechless under the mistletoe.

Later, he’d gift you the first edition of your favourite classic novel and wish you goodnight with a polite nod of his head, going up to his bedroom.

Before he went to sleep, he locked the pearl earrings and his mother’s necklace inside his drawer.

Things were awkward between you two. Your friendship with Bruce was still there, but he was sort of distant. Your weekly book club meetings still happened, and he still dropped by your café to drink coffee and try new cupcake recipes, but everything seemed to have changed after Christmas Eve.

So, you tried to move on with your life.

A few weeks after Christmas, your bakery started to work with a new supplier, and you quickly befriended the delivery guy, Tom. While you started to look forward to his visits more and more, it still did not feel the same as when you were with Bruce, and you felt guilty for hanging out with him.

One day, Bruce came in for his regular cup of coffee and a cupcake and found you smiling and giggling at a guy at the counter. His first reaction was to punch the guy to next Sunday, but thankfully he calmed down and approached you with a polite smile on his face.

“Hey there,” he greeted you, not sparing Tom a single glance.

“Oh! Hey Bruce – this is Tom. He’s the delivery guy from the new supplier.” Tom’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull when he realised the Bruce Wayne was standing in front of him and tried his best to shake his hand nonchalantly.

“I’ll be right with you,” you told him, and continued your conversation with Tom.

Fucking Tom. Who even was this guy?

And why were you smiling so much? What the fuck did he have that Bruce didn’t?

Most likely, it was what Bruce didn’t have that make a difference – a mask, a secret identity, a promise made to Gotham.

After you were done chatting with the delivery guy, you placed a cupcake and a cup of coffee in front of Bruce, but instead of sitting down with him, you returned to the counter and resumed your conversation.

Bruce cursed himself mentally.

On Christmas day, after you’d left, Alfred had asked what happened.

Bruce told him everything. How he couldn’t be with you because of Batman, how he couldn’t risk your safety and life, how he pushed you away.

Alfred lectured him, telling his master that his mask was going to be the end of him, but Bruce refused to listen and went to the batcave to busy himself and get his mind off you.

As he looked at you now, radiant and smiling at someone else, he realised that he might’ve made a big, big mistake.

It wasn’t long until you two started dating. It was casual, nothing too serious, but Bruce still seethed on the inside. He found himself staring at you for longer, hands lingering on yours whenever he touched you, and his heart ached more and more whenever he saw you with Tom.

You seemed so happy with him.

Seemed.

Because the truth was, you weren’t doing as well as Bruce thought you were. Tom was a nice man, yeah, but there was something off about the whole thing. He was good looking, yes, and very kind. He listened to you and made you, his priority. He was a dream. But there was just one problem, he wasn’t Bruce.

When you two went out, you often found yourself wishing it was Bruce’s arms wrapped around you. When you two went shopping and you decided to go try on a few hand lotions, Tom simply bent over to sniff your hand, and you were brought back to that time last November when Bruce held you with such gentleness, you nearly melted.

Tom always reminded you to bring a jacket, and you did so diligently, unconsciously put off by the idea of wearing his. He’d once given it to you, and it just wasn’t the same. He didn’t wrap it around you securely, he didn’t brush the hair away from your face, he didn’t look at you the way Bruce did. He was an amazing guy, and you liked him.

But that was it.

Still, you kept your relationship going, hoping your feelings would change.

After all, it’s not like you had ever felt anything for Bruce, right?

He was just a good friend.

You enjoyed spending time with him, sure, but that was it.

So, you looked forward to every time the two of you hung out. And your heartbeat quickened every time he was near. You couldn’t get your eyes off him. You easily got angry or upset whenever other women looked at him, and even more so when he entertained their advances. You longed to have him hold you in your arms.

But that was all normal, right? It just meant you were great friends.

You mind goes back to Christmas Eve, and the way he hugged you. Standing under that mistletoe, there was nothing you wanted more than to kiss him. You remember looking at him and wishing so bad that he would lean down and press his lips against yours. Just friends don’t kiss.

And that’s what you were to him – just a friend. He’d say that himself.

So why were you so heartbroken?

Looking at an empty coffee mug, it suddenly hit you like a train.

You were in love with Bruce Wayne.

And he didn’t love you back.

So there was no need to feel guilty over going out with Tom, right? Even if you didn’t particularly want to kiss him and didn’t want his hands around you when you two went out. Even if you were reluctant to introduce you as “your boyfriend” and had more than once ditched him to stay home and rethink your life decisions.

Even if when the two of you went out on dates, you barely paid any attention to him, focusing on the times you’d sat down with Bruce over a drink and just laughed your asses off and spoke until the crack of dawn.

Even if you didn’t really love Tom.

Yeah. No need at all.

On a lovely April afternoon, you were helping Bruce do some spring cleaning. You were both wearing some casual, old clothes, and helping Alfred to make sure the Manor ended up spotless.

You were currently in charge of the spacious living room, carefully placing picture frames on top of the coffee table so you could clean the fireplace. You looked at the framed memories. Pictures of Bruce as a child, or with his parents. There was one with a young Bruce standing on his father’s shoulders, and another one of him hugging Alfred.

You smiled to yourself. What a cute kid, he was. He seemed so happy.

There were pictures of him with Rachel, knees scraped and clothes dirty from the mud, and some with you. Your gaze lingered on those.

There was one framed selfie with the two of you, faces full of flour and whipped cream. You’d been teaching him how to bake, but the whole ordeal ended up in a small food fight – which he’d won. You chuckled at the memories of trying to teach Mr. “I’m far too rich to cook because I have people to do it for me” how to measure cups of flour, and break eggs. You’d held onto his arms and guided him to make sure he got the measurements just right.

Something inside of you flared up the memory.

The other picture in your hand had been taken at the Carrington gala.

You were wearing your pretty (and extremely expensive) black dress and were smiling at the camera. You were leaning into Bruce’s touch, who was holding you close by the waist. Instead of looking at the camera, he was instead looking at you.

Somehow, tears had clouded your vision.

How you had loved dancing with him. Being held by him as if you were the only person in the world he cared about. Your fingers traced his figure in the picture, and a tear fell down your cheek, falling on top of the glass.

“Hey, are you done with the fireplace?” You jumped at the voice behind you, and dropped the frame, which fell on the floor and broke into a million little pieces.

“Shit!” you mumbled, quick to crouch and try to pick up each glass shard. Bruce was quicker though, and made his way towards you, pulling you away from the soiled floor.

“No, get away from this, you might get hurt. I’ll call Alfred and – “ he looked at you and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Tears were streaming down your face, and you couldn’t look away from the mess you had made. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” you choked back a sob. “I’m so sorry – I broke it.”

“No, no. It’s okay, we’ll just get a new frame.” Bruce assured you, hands resting on your shoulders.

“No – fuck ­– it’s not okay! None of this is okay!” You cried, and he pulled you against his chest, running his fingers through your hair.

“It’s just a frame. We’ll get a new one. And we’ll clean the floor.”

You cried in his arms for a while, until your sobs subsided into quiet sniffs. Bruce didn’t really know what to do, so he stood there, holding you tight. He’d never let you go.

After a while, you broke the silence.

“I – “ sniff, “ – I broke up with Tom,” you mumbled.

Bruce’s expression was one of surprise. Really? Why would you though? You two seemed happy.

“I… I don’t really think I liked him…” you continued; voice muffled by his chest. “I think I was dating him simply because I wanted to forget you…”

What?

He looked at you, but you refused to face him, face pressing harder against his chest.

“I’m such an idiot, Bruce… Everything was fine, and then I went and fell for you… And now our friendship is going to be ruined, and I broke your picture frame…”

Bruce held you tighter. You fell for him?

“I’m sorry, Bruce… I’m so sorry – I promise I’ll fix this. I – I’ll stop loving you and we can go back to being friends, and – “

Bruce used his thumb to lift your face up and looked straight into your eyes. There was nowhere to run. You were trapped, and so was he.

“You love me?” he asked, voice as soft as you’d ever heard it.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say those words out loud, so you opted for nodding.

“But – Tom –“

“Tom was a distraction,” you sniffled, “And I feel terrible about it. But I didn’t really like him. I just wanted to forget about you.”

“You love me,” Bruce repeated, using the same thumb to rub circles on the skin of your cheek. His gaze fell on your lips.

He had two choices. He could let you go once again. He could walk away from you, tell you he didn’t love you back. He could watch as you eventually moved on with your life (this time for real) and protect you from having to choose between Bruce Wayne and Batman.

He could give up the love of his life forever.

Or he could kiss you. He could tell you how he felt. He could trust you with that darker side of him, and you two could figure it out along the way. He could take it easy. He could bare his heart and finally tell you how you felt.

Two sides of him fought against each other, but ultimately, one was stronger.

He bent down and took your lips in his, sliding his hands up to your face to cradle it.

You were surprised to say the least, but pleasantly so. You wrapped your arms around him and kissed him back with vigour, tears of happiness falling down your cheeks. How you’d wanted this. And now, it was finally happening.

When you two parted for air, Bruce refused to let you go, standing mere inches away from you. His nose nuzzled yours, and he whispered a quiet, “I love you.”

You don’t know wat surprised you more. That he’d say it, or that you said it back.

“I love you too,” you smiled, pressing yourself against him and kissing him once again.

Bruce wrapped his arms around you, attempting to convey all his feelings for you in a simple kiss. All the longing, the love, the desire, the friendship. Everything he couldn’t find the words to say, he poured into that kiss. And you smiled, accepting all his confessions, all his words.

“Well, it was about time, don’t you two think?” Alfred said from across the room.

You jumped and just stared at him, embarrassment overtaking you.

“Yes, I’m talking about you two. Do you know how bothersome it was to see you moping around and sulking because you hadn’t kissed her on Christmas Eve, sir?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“I – You wanted to kiss me on Christmas Eve?” you turned to Bruce and gave him a soft smile.

“I did. I really did. I’m so sorry I didn’t.” he replied, before looking at Alfred. “Could you please leave us alone now? I don’t really recall paying you to mind my business.”

“You don’t pay me enough not to, sir.” The butler replied with a cheeky grin and that “I have the high ground, for I am British and old and wise” smug look of his. “I am glad to see the both of you are finally getting along. If you need me, I’ll be cleaning the Manor, since no one in this house does it.”

You laughed and faced Bruce once again, cupping his cheek.

“I thought you didn’t even like me. I mean, on Christmas…”

“I’m sorry about Christmas. I really did want to kiss you, it’s just… There are things about me – things you don’t know. And I’m afraid of telling you because I don’t want you to get hurt.” He replied, hand coming up to touch yours.

“You can tell me anything Bruce, you know it. Right?”

He nodded, and hugged you close one more time.

“I do. And I love you. I really mean it.”

Bruce could hear the smile in your voice when you replied.

“I love you too.”

For once in his life, Bruce Wayne did not feel completely alone. On the next room, he had his trusted butler, who had raised him as his own and acted like a parental figure all these years. And in his arms, he had you. The love of his life, the woman he loved the most in the world.

Holding you close to him, he knew he could trust you, no matter what. He knew you’d accept him, because if anyone would, it was you. And he would cherish that forever.

Later that night, a small white box was taken out of a locked drawer and placed inside of his pocket.

Bruce led you to the same spot you’d been on Christmas Eve, handed you the small box, and after carefully placing the necklace around your neck, finally kissed you.

There was no way he was ever letting go of you.

A/N: And that's it! I hope I was able to do both this trilogy and this request justice, I was really worried about it. I wrote most of it in one sitting, you have no idea, I just kept on writing and writing and writing and when I realised it, it'd gotten kinda long and out of hand.

I also hope this Tom character wasn't useless? I mean, he sorta was, he was just a plot device, but I hope he didn't feel rushed or whatever.

Anyways, I hope you guys liked it! I really do!

Have an amazing day, everyone! <3

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader #bale!batman #bale!bruce wayne x reader #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy #nolanverse #the dark knight fanfiction #the dark knight fanfic #nolanverse fanfiction #bruce wayne fanfiction #batman fanfiction #batman x fem!reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader

[another-lost-mc]

candy prompts: michael + spooky

you don't tell michael about the other angels that mistreat you. he doesn't tell you how he punishes them when he finds out.

pairing: michael x angel!gn!reader

content: nsfw. dark content. mentions of bullying, violence, injury. some of the angels are awful and michael is a bit scary.

word count: 500

a/n: this was part of my angel!reader au that I cut to keep the story light-hearted. 😅

Michael's feelings for you are complicated. He doesn't have the luxury of romance or the time to seduce potential lovers to his bed. The temptation to give into lust is easy to resist in part because he has you. He considers you a dear friend and one of his most trusted angels. You stand by his side with unwavering faith and loyalty even when so many others struggle to do the same.

You were fond of the fallen brothers and friends with their lost sister. He sheltered you from the war as best he could to spare you the pain of choosing sides. He didn't want you to see your friends die. Acting as one of his scribes far from the fighting was supposed to be a distraction for you. You never had to bloody your hands in battle, you never had to see your brothers and sisters draw their weapons and strike each other down. He sheltered your pure heart and kept your hands clean from the blood that stained his own.

He didn't realize his interference did more harm than good. The other angels saw his favour for you and assumed the worst: you were weak, useless in battle and unwilling to fight for the glory of the Celestial Realm. Some even muttered about other ways you were useful to Michael, or the things you would do to earn you such kindness.

Michael was unaware of the vitriol some of the other angels whispered about you in the Celestial Halls, but you hid your shame from him as best you could. It was only when you left the Celestial Realm on a diplomatic mission did he learn the truth of what you've endured in silence for so long.

He turned to Simeon, one of your only true friends, when he realized you were hiding something from him. Simeon didn’t hesitate to tell Michael the names of those who regarded you with misplaced envy and scorn. Righteous fury burned in Michael's eyes at the implications that you would warm his bed in exchange for friendship or leniency.

Later, Simeon wondered if he should feel guilty about the punishment his wayward brothers and sisters would endure at the archangel's hands. You called him that evening to inquire about Michael's well-being and to ask if Luke would like a souvenir when you returned the next morning. Simeon smiled when your happy voice bid him farewell, and he realized he didn't feel guilty at all. He retired to his bed and slept well knowing that you would return to a Celestial Realm better than the one you left.

In the twilight hours, the angels slept blissfully unaware of the violence that raged in Michael’s heart. Buried deep beneath the Celestial Halls, dark rooms reeked of blood and burnt feathers.

read more: halloween 2023 masterlist || obey me masterlist

#obey me #obey me michael #obey me michael x reader #michael x reader #obey me x reader #x reader #gn!reader #cw blood #tw dark content #trick or treat 2023

[the80srewinders]

A Michael Hutchence Tribute Post

We're deep into the 80s- and the music is what started it all. Its what helped us find common ground and band together as a system, which helped us reach functional multiplicity. The 80s helped us heal, and 80s music has been very centric to that. And one of those bands we all love is INXS.

I, host (co writing with Kenzie) heard INXS as a 13 year old who had no knowledge of DID nor that I had it and very little about my past including most of the trauma. When I first heard them, I was a stranger to myself, a stranger in my own body, and didn't even know it. I had so much self discovery to do and at the time did none of it. But I also didn't know I needed to do self discovery. Sure, I had the out of body experience a few times a month, I'd stare off and suddenly the object I was staring at would feel like it didn't really exist scaring me, I'd be daydreaming all the time, noticed a tad of amnesia (when I got older I realized there was more amnesia than I noticed) and heard inner voices. But I thought my brain was "just weird and rare." When I first got into this 80s thing I was only half-foot in the wading pool with it and just liked the music. INXS was one of those bands that got me into the 80s.

A few years into our 80s obsession (music and all) I started actually deep diving into INXS and their discography. Which would be last year. I didn't read anything about the members though, and when I did a few days ago, I felt sad to hear Michael Hutchence (the lead singer, who I previously didn't know the name of) died before the body was born. He gave off this energy that to hear and watch the music videos, you'd think he was still alive. He seemed like he would never die, he had this special innocent charm to him. And I'll admit, watching the music videos before we found out about his death we all had a crush on him somewhat. His death was a sudden emotional blow to us even though we weren't around in the same lifetime.

From what we've read about Michael Hutchence, he was the sweetest and most loving, thoughtful guy. Very affectionate in ways you don't see every day, and he made a lasting impression on the fans he met and never got to meet. He's one of those special people that have so much love to give and aren't afraid to give it. We need more people like that in the world instead of people who inhibit their love for others because of society constructs that don't match up with human nature. We are supposed to be a little like Michael Hutchence- openly kind, affectionate and generous. Make this your sign to spread some love and warmth around to those who you love or need it, even if its just helping out a stranger on the internet who needs some kind words or hugging your friends. We all need a little bit of Michael Hutchence in our lives- not just his music, but his kindness and generosity he showed.

Here's to you, Michael Hutchence. We will continue to keep your memory alive and carry a little bit of you- the best parts of you- in us. We'll try to share those parts with others. We might have not been alive in the same timeframe, but you still have made a lasting impression on us, inspired us when we lost direction. Now we're filled with so many words and ideas and its because of you. We love you so much. Rock on and spread the love, wherever you are, sweetheart.

#actually dissociative #80s #inxs #michael hutchence #actually plural

[kissorkill15]

You'll Get Through This: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: 16 year old Nicky Roth and a suicide attempt.

Nicky jolted upwards out of his slumber, breathing heavily and sweating uncontrollably. He had another nightmare, and it was one of the worst nightmares ever since the grocery store.

He was in Mr. Peterson's basement. The large man towered over him, holding a butcher knife. He couldn't move, he couldn't scream, he couldn't do anything. All he could do was lie there, petrified, and wishing this man would just get it over with already.

Nicky immediately ran to the bathroom, and he looked at himself in the mirror. He looked like a hot mess. Messy hair, sweaty face, he looked like he just ran a whole 78 miles.

He couldn't take it anymore. The nightmares, the flashbacks, the pain, the bullying, the near death experiences. He hated his life. He just wanted it all to stop.

He turned on the sink, and splashed some water in his face, when he looked at himself in the mirror once again, he saw the scared little boy he once was. 13 year old Nicky Roth, a stupid little boy who ruined his entire life to find his only friend who he had something in common with.

The same stupid little boy who ruined his friendship with so many other people, the same stupid little boy who damaged his reputation, the same stupid little boy who made him and his parents look bad in front of the entire city of Raven Brooks.

The next thing he saw was a black figure. The figure took the shape of Aaron, Mr. Peterson's last living child. The last thing he heard before he jolted backwards and fell in the bathtub was...

"I warned you, Nicky. I told you to never come back."

Nicky grasped the sides of his head, and let out a blood curdling scream. He ran back to the mirror, angry and lost in his head, and he started punching the glass until his knuckles started to bleed. When he was done, there was nothing left of the mirror, and his knuckles looked like they've had better days.

Nicky opened the bathroom cupboard under the sink, and grabbed his mother's sleeping pills. Then he ran to his room, took out a piece of paper and pencil. He began writing...

Dear World,

I'm sorry, but I can't take it anymore. I can't take anymore nightmares, pain, regret, hallucinations, nothing. I've lost all of my friends, all of my sanity, all of the trust anyone has ever had in me, I've lost everything. I'm finally going to be with my bubba (grandmother), and I'll finally be free from this hell I call my life. I'm sorry, Mom and Dad. I'll miss you.

Sincerely,

Nicholas Michael Roth

He emptied the container of pills into his hands, and stuffed them all into his mouth. But before he could swallow a single pill, his door swung open.

"NICKY!"

It was his mother. She frantically ran to Nicky, slapping the container out of his hands, and gripping his cheeks.

"Spit them out!"

Nicky shook his head.

"Nicholas Michael Roth, spit out all of those pills right fucking now!"

Nicky didn't want to, but he did anyway. As he spat them out, he started crying uncontrollably.

Just then, his father walked in. Immediately growing concerned when he saw his son crying. "Oh, holy shit! Nicky, what happened?!", he asked.

"I just caught our son trying to kill himself."

Jay's eyes widened in shock. He sat down on the bed, next to Nicky. He was scared to touch him since he was currently having a breakdown.

"Nicky, it's okay, honey."

"No, stop that. No it's not!"

"Nicky-"

Nicky unleashed another scream. "STOP IT! I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE, MOM! I CAN'T TAKE ANYMORE NIGHTMARES, PAIN, PTSD HEART ATTACKS AND FLASHBACKS, NO MORE!"

Nicky continued crying. "Just please let me end it. I hate myself so fucking much right now. I want to die! Everything hurts so bad."

Jay and Luanne hated seeing their baby like this. They wrapped their arms around Nicky, a warm and comforting embrace.

"Let me end it. Let me end it. Let me end it.", the scared boy kept saying.

"Narf. Look at me.", said his father.

Nicky turned his head to look at him.

"We're not going to keep telling you it's okay, because we know you know it's not. But we just want to let you know that we're here for you. We're here to listen this time."

"Your father's right, Nicky. I know we weren't there for you when you needed us before, and we regret it, knowing it's the reason you went missing. But just know, we're ready to listen now. We're ready to be better parents.

Nicky pondered for a moment, but he finally opened up his mouth to speak.

"I guess I've been feeling pretty angry and sad."

He stopped for a moment, checking to see if they were really listening. When he saw they were, he continued talking.

"Angry because no one would believe me when I said Mr. Peterson was the reason Aaron and Mya were missing. And sad because I lost all of my friends, and I felt like I've been abandoned."

Nicky felt like crying again.

"Everyone was against me in Raven Brooks, everyone thought I was crazy. No one believed me, they said I didn't have enough proof, but there was a truckload of proof right under their noses. They just refused to look at it! No one cares about missing children. No one cares about bullying. No one cares about the death of a child-"

As Nicky said all of this, he felt his throat start to close up, and his eyes began flooding up with tears. Before he knew it, he was crying again. His father's arms wrapped tighter around him.

"Narf, that was Raven Brooks. We're not in Raven Brooks anymore."

"Exactly. We're in Shelbyville. It's better than Raven Brooks. There are really great schools, and interesting after school programs, there's even a neighborhood watch."

Joking seemed to be helping a little bit, because Nicky started to smile.

"Yeah.", he said. "There are a few good restaurants nearby, and a decent police station. And it normally takes a week to find missing people."

They all laughed.

"But seriously, Narf.", his dad said, "You're not alone anymore. You're going to get through this. You might not get through it immediately, but I swear, you'll get through it. You'll feel better, and boom! No more nightmares or flashbacks, and no more suicidal thoughts."

Nicky smiled and snuggled into his father's chest.

"And I'm sorry we doubted you, Nicky. We love you so much.", said his mother.

"I love you guys too, so very much.", replied Nicky.

They all engulfed themselves in a big group hug. Nicky knew now that he wasn't alone anymore, and he was going to get through this, no matter what or how long it took.

#hello neighbor #nicky roth #jay roth #luanne roth #tw suicide attempt #tw pills #hurt/comfort #hello neighbor fanfic #my fics

[borreloadsavagedragon]

Chris, Kaito and Shark

omfg I had to do this on my laptop bc mobile tumblr is literally unusable in terms of copy and pasting anything

I tried read more-ing this but it wouldn't let me I'm so sorry if it's giant gdjsaklgjg CHRIS

favorite thing about them: he's hot. jk, not just that, I love that he's loyal, man will go DOWN for the people he cares about, family, friends, he's committed to his bonds, the duel with Mizael when he partners with Michael is so good

least favorite thing about them: as much as I love Chris, not a huge fan of how everything sort of got fixed with one duel, I have the same gripe with Thomas and Ryouga-

favorite line: good question jdsaklg, not sure the way he says "my life points" in the dub is kind of funny-

brOTP: vkai, I call them divorcees without being married because they had so much post divorce energy during the WDC but now they're going to be coworkers and chris also had to just watch kaito go off to the moon to fight a guy who said his dragon was bigger and die so he's taking the keys to the rocket the next time he sees him

OTP: what do you mean Kousei isn't in Zexal canon, yes he is, he's right there genuinely can't think of another pair for him from canon though, there's some dynamics I think could be interesting and have wips for but nothing like romantic

nOTP: romantic vkai.............. see kaito's below for details, it's more to do with him and how I think about kaito-

random headcanon: GEEK. NERD. CLOSET FANBOY. WOULD WEAR GRAPHIC TEES IF HE DIDN'T HAVE AN AESTHETIC. Take this man to see Kozmo films right now!!!!!

unpopular opinion: I don't think I have one outside of the ship preference gjdakl

song i associate with them: none omg, unless I REALLY fixate on a character, I don't usually have songs for them gjdklggd

favorite picture of them: he's very pretty, it's hard to choose one fjdsklg, anytime you can see him wiping hair hair around

KAITO

favorite thing about them: how dare you make me pick one thing when I'm already working on an analysis essay- Kaito's one of those characters to me where you look at them and feel like you've been EXPOSED by this show you're watching so picking one detail is hard I like how accurate he feels to me when it comes to how he's someone who's just so used to being burned by so many people, love how fiercely protective he gets when someone matters to him, love how petty and dramatic he can be too but literally NEVER owning up to it I love that he's straight forward that he's not a good person also, that he sold himself to the devil to do what had to be done and he's tainted, I'm just- He's so god damn good really also lives up to being lonely but absolutely genius

least favorite thing about them: nothing, he's perfect............... but I will beat him up if he continues to hide his physical health from everyone else around him and if he goes to the moon again, it's ok, your dragon is good too

favorite line: this is hard because he has so many good ones because he doesn't know how to talk to people hdskjlaj the only one I can honest to god remember at this very moment is "you're quite the romanticist" because who tf says that to another person

brOTP: Chris and Yuma both come to mind, Chris I've gone over above but Yuma, I love that Kaito's always just in awe of him, just imagining Kaito always picking him up by the scruff constantly

OTP: I have like four ships for Kaito that I rotate out in my brain a lot highkey, the only two I haven't written something for are Galaxymaster and Raven but coming soon, my google docs are INSANE right now I want everything with Mizael to be perfect because MizaKai's just... idk, I love it so god damn much, there is SO MUCH to the two of them, and Shun's just not a muse I'm suuuuper comfortable writing rn but we're trying, I love that Shun actually like... goes back for him, not a lot of people chase Kaito back but Shun immediately ponies up idk, Kaito's pension and insistence for being alone always makes me want to throw new people at him at all times though I LOVE going into depth on Challenge, not even romantically either, their rivalry is so good in that subtle way that they're two steps off from being the same person and it didn't get nearly enough time, shakes fist And the last one is EdoKai omg, Kaito speedrunning his enemies to lovers plot with Edo in Arc V is iconic, took one look at him in the safe house and was like "yeah, we could get married"

nOTP: sweats, vkai in romantic context So... I experience pretty strong RSD, which is rejection sensitivity dysphoria, and their entire friend/mentor breakup backstory sits super wrong with me because of that gdsjagilgdsa I don't want to go too far into details but it hits home Also not huge on Kaito and Vector at all-

random headcanon: I love writing him touch starved......... he's always fully clothed anytime he's near another person, probably from just being ditched or taken away from so many people, so letting someone close physically is a big step.

unpopular opinion: He solos. literally no rival matches him if you were to attempt to scale them in skill, I'm on this hill forever and you can't move me from it <3

song i associate with them: god I have a big playlist just for him gjdasklj, it's hard to pick just one so I gift just two - Hell's Comin' With Me / Poor Man's Poison - "I am the righteous hand of god and I am the devil that you forgot", perfect, glorious - I Don't Want To Be Here Anymore / Rise Against - just... chef's kiss

favorite picture of them: him jumping through the cockpit window of the blimp, it's my mobile banner and sometimes is my Twitter banner lmao

RYOUGA

favorite thing about them: ryouga is another character who just says and does shit with his whole chest and I honestly just love him for that, yes king, keep being stubborn, my cringefail bestie I love that he's just such a little edge lord and a wannabe bad boy but just fails at it gjdkaslj he can fight a whole gang by himself, but he'll do whatever his sister says, he's jumping off cliffs for someone who annoys him, god I love him

least favorite thing about them: ngl, I could complain for hours about how much I hate how him getting his memories of being Nasch was done, but it's also in character because Ryouga is SO UNBELIEVBABLY hot and cold about everything and everyone, love him but I also want to beat him UP

favorite line: god, Ryouga is such a tsundere so all I hear out of his mouth is "it's not like I don't like you or anything", I feel bad I haven't come up with any specific lines for any of them but they're all just dumb boys who can't talk

brOTP: Hellshark and whatever his pair with Durbe is called- Ryouga and Thomas being besties is so weird to me but also like, yeah bickering, kicking each other's asses to hell affectionately, good for them Durbe sweetie I'm so sorry but also you signed up for this

OTP: Sharkbait is up there, Challenge is proooobably my favorite though, like I said above, just love going over what could have been with their entire rivalry, the fact that Ryouga never got his grudge match with Kaito will haunt me forever, even though there's no universe where Ryouga wins jagklds

nOTP: deadass 99% of romantic pairs with Ryouga I'm not too huge on, I wouldn't say any of them are like NOTPs but idk, there's more I don't like or don't really think about than ones I actually do haha

random headcanon: ngl. I've got none I can think of right now gdjasg

unpopular opinion: he's not the rival. guy with a sister he'd do anything to help, former school bully who now practically throws his life away for the protagonist, temporary gang member, temporarily evilness Like his dueling is the first thing his sister saw when she came out of the hospital, just like someone else we know... list goes ON why he's the friend role I also,,, like his name more than his nickname, as you could tell I'm sure

song i associate with them: like what I said for Chris, unless I like FIXATE on a character, I have no songs for them, but I Am My Own Muse by Fall Out Boy comes to mind- Ryouga's playlist is inevitable

favorite picture of them: ANY WHERE HE'S JUST LIKE, FLAYING, he has so many shots of him just being blown over or on the ground, they're SO GOOD

#THANKS CONI #asks #answered #ted talks

[vote-gaara]

Is your oc a self insert?

Weirdly personal response under the break

I think that all of my characters, no matter how small, are extensions of me in a way. Think like Ian Malcolm/Michael Crichton in Jurassic Park type deal.

The real self insert was when I was like 12 and used to draw and write myself as a ninja with cat ears and a cat sidekick kinda like Kiba and Akamaru...LOL god, if I ever got hold of those notebooks or sketchbooks again I think I would just wither up and die of shame. There were just so many intricate drawings that were just baad, and the fics that were riddled - RIDDLED - with spelling errors. I don't know if I have these fics anymore, but if I manage to find one back from my middle school days, I will absolutely transcribe and share with the world because I'm sure we could all use a really good laugh at my expense.

But as for Kaiya, who is my main OC; no I wouldn't say she's a self insert. Actually, I've discovered a phenomenon of ME taking after my characters. For example, I researched the hell out of gardening and food preservation when building Kaiya's character, as she was always meant to live next to society rather than inside it. Anyways, that muse ended up a full time obsession and I was desperate to grow vegetables and keep chickens even though I lived in a major city and had a tiny balcony the size of, idk, a small bathtub. But, I persevered and 10 years later I had a small hobby farm in the middle of nowhere with chickens and a big garden. Though I gave all that up when I separated with my partner.

In fact, I think the most "self-insert" type aspect of my OC is her appearance, and that might have been a bit of laziness on my part. I think a lot of manga/anime characters have colours and designs that are really bright and significant, but making my own characters like that just didn't appeal to me for some reason. I don't think I'm very good with aesthetics tbh so I just avoid it lol. I like characters who are colourful, don't get me wrong (my fave part about Gaara is his red hair) but I also don't mind characters who fade into the background a bit and can make up for it with strong personality.

Also on another, random note: Gaara influenced me too. I grew cacti from seed, and his influence has made me a lot more political and "in the know" about world events. He also helped me take care of myself emotionally and mentally, as I found his story inspiring. I also took a job in bylaw as inspiration from him and made a lot of friends in the military reserves by that connection which was really cool. Ultimately, though, I gave up that job to become a copywriter with some basic graphic design (blah), as writing was my true passion.

Spoiler: I hated that job. I absolutely hated it. Turns out, writing is only fun when you're writing about the stuff you enjoy.

Now I work supporting medical staff!

#this took me like #8 months to answer #sorry

[notafraidofredyellowandblue]

Flake's podcast - Rhythmic Finesse

podcast 2022-07-12! published 2022-07-13

This time Flake's topic is 'Rhythmic Finesse', which i think can also be interpreted as 'unusual rhythms'. Flake mentions he usually doesn't care for songs with the standard 4/4 pop rhythm very much, they go right through him, they don't 'stick' and therefore he doesn't remember them. But a song that has a different rhythm, that has a few hooks and edges, those songs are the ones he finds interesting.

And as it turns out, he doesn't have to go far to find examples: Fellow Berlin band 'Die Ärzte' are featured with 'Gib Gas lieber Michael Schumacher' right at the start, and 'Monsterparty' at 1h34. Flake considers them one of those bands who are musically better than they usually play.

Some smaller rambles, like at 0h09 on hearing 'Satisfaction' by the Rolling Stones for the first time (he plays a different version for the theme of this podcast) and innocent guy Flake didn't understand what that word meant, so he looked it up in the dictionary, still didn't understand. Then he read a book about a Count duelling with a Knight who said during the duel "I demand satisfaction.." and Flake still didn't understand what it meant. Still doesn't for that matter 😊

At 0h44 he plays Led Zeppelin with Kashmir. Flake and his friends liked this song so much that they created a band with that name, their singer was Swami Dama Adjara, who was one of the few East-Germans who got a new name from Bhagwan (his german name was Micha, that was easier to remember for Flake).

But back to the topic, there is a band who tried many rhythmic variations, and Flake knows this band very well: Feeling B (most of the variations were created by accident by the way🌺), so there's much to enjoy for Feeling B fans:

We have a 5/4 rhythm in 'Die Pest' (1h06) which was created when singer Aljoscha got the idea to do a medieval theme. They got in touch with a medieval-music band from Rostock, and they were the ones who taught Feeling B about the different rhythms. Feeling B's drummer refused to play it, and so the band took Christoph Schneider back (that's what Flake calls him, he doesn't mention that that happens to be the Rammstein drummer now 😊). He had already left the band, because he had been fighting with the band, especially with the singer (Flake admits that it would have been difficult not to, with all the alcohol, and conflicting characters..Flake mentions it's not easy to stay together with a band..."but that's not what this show is about", so we don't get juicy anecdotes 😊). Anyway, he did manage to play a 5/4 rhythm, and that was the start for Feeling B to play more intricate songs. The song features Steve Binetti on leadguitar.

Then 7/8 rhythm (at 1h15) on 'Mystisches Mysterium", songtitle thought up by Aljoscha, because nobody could think of a fitting name (this happens often with bands that Flake plays in 😊)

And then at 1:18 we get a 11/8 rhythm from Die Magdalene Keibel Combo, which is a spin-off band from Feeling B that Flake and Paul Landers created, because Aljoscha was putting ever fewer effort in lyrics, and Flake and Paul didn't like that.

Rammstein isn't played in this podcast, nor mentioned, apart from a sidenote at 0h40 which i still thought was worth mentioning: when Flake announces the band 'The Streets' he adds "I don't call them Mike Skinner and the Streets, because it annoys me when people say 'Till Lindemann and his guys'". 😄

Rammstein is a real 6-man band 😊...but we knew that, didn't we 🍀

more of my takes on Flake's podcasts

#flake's podcast #des tastenfickers podcast #flake lorenz #rammstein

[iwanttoplayagame20]

100 favorite horror movie deaths PT. 4!!

31. Freddy Krueger- Freddy vs Jason

People say he didn't technically die here, but I'm honestly gonna count it. The fight between him and Jason that led to his ultimate decapitation was honestly really freaking cool so I think it deserves a spot on this list. And it's always cool when he dies tbh.

32. Fazio- Leprechaun 3

He basically sets up his own trap in a sense but either way, it's cool. He gets chainsawed in half by the Leprechaun. He was a greedy dumbass and honestly kind of deserved to die. Glad he didn't go out in a boring way.

33. Sheriff Michael Garris- Friday the 13th Part VII: Jason Lives

My man is folded like a lawn chair. This is an obvious pick for one of my all time favorites. Though it did make me sad that he died because all he wanted to do was protect his daughter from what was going on and he ended up dying. I liked him.

34. Simon Kalivoda- Fear Street Part 1: 1994

His death isn't really gross or gory in anyway, it's just the emotional impact that it had on me. He was such a happy character that just lived his life to the fullest as much as he could in a shitty town like Shadyside and it was all taken away cause he was smiling at a friend and being happy and got a fucking axe to the head. I fucking hate that he died.

35. Eric Matthews- Saw IV

Eric wasn't a really great character to be honest. He cheated on his wife and wasn't really great toward his son. So he did and didn't deserve the death he got. His head was absolutely smashed to bits by two blocks of ice swinging down and there was like nothing left. Gnarly but cool.

36. Maynard J Odets- Wrong Turn 2: Dead End

Douche got a stick of dynamite shoved in his pants and he fucking went BOOM. And the face he made right before he went boom, was fucking hilarious. Though I don't get how this guy is supposed to be the other guy from Wrong Turn 5. They don't look or sound alike at all. (The one who died is portrayed by Wayne Robson is this one and the og. Doug Bradley portrays him in Wrong Turn 5, which is a prequel to Dead End)

37. Milo's Family- Sinister 2

Bowls were strapped to their chests, rats were inside those bowls, and those bowls were heated and the rats ate their way out of the people. It was fucked up to be honest but a very memorable kill. Would hate to go out that way.

38. Hunt- The Final Destination

Fucking hate this character with a passion. And kind glad he died. He had his intestines sucked out of him from the pressure in a public pool. Honestly, that's a horrifying way to go. Not because of what happens, but because your in a public place with so many people around you but none of them know what's going on until it's too late.

39. Julius Gaw- Friday the 13th Part VIII: Jason Takes Manhattan

The thing I really liked about this was the scene leading up to it. He tried fighting Jason on a rooftop before he got all tuckered out and then Jason decapitated him with a singular fucking punch. That just shows how much brute strength that supernatural man with mommy issues has. Very cool.

40. Tom Weaver- Hot Fuzz

This death wasn't really on-screen and he's kind of a forgettable character. But an old sea bomb rolled over him and was set off after he shot at Nicholas. And he went boom, honestly I think it's cool because he went boom and because of what made the boom.

#cornetto trilogy #hot fuzz #jason takes manhattan #wrong turn #cannibal movie #horror movies #favorite death #comfort movies #sinister #the final destination #saw iv #eric matthews #fear street #simon kalivoda #sad movies #stupid #leprechaun #jason lives #jason voorhees

[baladaentornado]

Please please please give us your concert breakdown in detail!

Omg I never saw this. You probably won't comeback after all these days but still I want to answer ❤️

My English is so weak but here we go

Ok idk how to start... I guess by the beginning lol. First, I need to mention how did I queque, my lovely friend Sofia (a veteran solo Louie) and her friends started to camp one week before the show and she added me on her list and also @frhkh's (other veteran solo Louie, so cool ik) so I had to go some days before the show to take care of my place (I know, please don't come at me) and damn let me tell you there was so many people there, like it was so crowded days before the show!! Louies went crazy!

Ok so the day of the show I got there so early (I had to get out of home before 5 am!!!) When I arrived the place was so full, and it was covered in rainbows 🥺 I think it's so beautiful how Peruvian louies started pride month with Louis 💞💞 then journalist came and interviewed a lot of fans like they interviewed a girl next to me that came from Ecuador JUST to see Louis!! (Actually I kinda of appeared on tv too kskksk) we had to be there for hours !! We would scream like crazy everytime we saw a black van thinking Louis was inside🤣🤣 I still can feel the excitement when we heard the band soundcheck and Louis sing, we were so confused cause some said it wasn't him but I KNEW it was him!!!

Let me tell you I may love the sun but it was so hot waiting there even if it was already autumn and Lima is always grey but I guess that's Louis' supernatural effect in the weather!! Then by around 2 pm they told us to get inside, I even couldn't go to have lunch cause they were issues at the queque and if we moved we could have loose our spots ;( ( please never do that, it was so irresponsible, always eat before shows!!) Also Move concerts was so irresponsible for that, they told us months before that the doors would be open at 6 pm and many fans like my friend couldn't arrive at time so they lost their spots at the line. But anyways, once we got inside they made us form other long lines and some people from merch would get close and ask those who wanted to get merch (I didn't get any ) that's when Joshua came out 🥺🥺 he was so cute!! He is so tall too ??? We screamed like crazy and he smiled at us a lot 😊 then Sun Room did their soundcheck (they are so cute too!!) And the band came back for another soundcheck around 4 pm, one of the big curtains kind of fell because there was so much wind and we could see Michael 😏 he was so fine!! then they FINALLY let us go inside and we run like crazy I was so scare of fall and die lmao!! But still I got barricade !! I couldn't believe it like I was so close ??? Omg I still get shivers everytime I remember that feeling of being inside. Louis' pre show playlist is so fckin good I was dancing with other girls to RHCP, fatm and oasis, it was so lovely. Then Sun Room came and they were so fun!! Like their cover of blitzkrieg bop made all of us jump and dance !!! It was so fckin cool! their set was great. And finally, it was time for the man, I can't even describe how it felt to see Louis come on stage!! We just went insane, the screams were so loud it was unbelievable like out of this world, we all screamed every we made it word, seeing Louis wear a turtleneck so close to me almost send me to the hospital lmao I never screamed so hard, Louis live just hits different!! Like it's fuckin crazy how good he is like this man is a rockstar. I started crying so hard when only the brave came, that moment was so breathtaking and fearless?? Omg that song isn't real!! Michael and Steve were beasts!! Louis is so fckin beautiful, he is an angel!! He just looks so beautiful! His hair, his eyelashes, his body AND HIS VOICE!! so soft so sweet oh I was dying sister I WAS DYING!! The begging of KMM just killed me completely, that live guitar is just... Wow!! I was so close to touch him but someone fainted and security had to take her out quickly so Louis was not able to come to my side ;( once the show was over I realized that I had never been happier in my life!! Those almost two hours were the best time of my life. Once the show was over I reunited with my best friend that was in campo b, we got out of the venue and I finally met @frhkh we hugged so hard and screamed about Louis, we couldn't believe it!! Like everything felt so surreal!!! I can't wait to see Louis again!!! Best day of my life.

#ltwt lima #my report #sorry for the lack of details i tired and have homework to do #sorry for not seeing this before anon #hope you like it

[lizisshortforlizard]

Living Dangerously - Chapter 22

Jurassic Park’s animal handlers: none of them ever mentioned by name in Michael Crichton’s original novel. Who were they? What were their lives like on Isla Nublar? Did any of them survive the disaster?

A year in the life of those responsible for the care of the dinosaurs. Many people would kill to have their jobs.

But would they die for it?

Jurassic Park Novel/Jurassic Park Film (1993)

Viewpoint: 3rd person female oc

Warnings: light swears, relationship breakdown, butt-load of angst

Wordcount: ~65.7k (22 Chapters) [incomplete]

Tagging: @heresthefanfiction @howlingmadlady @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciation

Read on Ao3

Chapter 21 | Chapter 23

How’m I Gonna Sleep - Tim Finn

“You’re joking.” Lizzy objected flatly.

”Do I sound like I’m joking?” Muldoon didn't back down.

She shook her head in bewilderment, face like a smacked arse. “Why?”

“Your skills are required. I can’t say any more just yet.”

”I thought you were on my side.”

”And you have a job to do. You’re going. Pack your bags.”

Lizzy didn’t say another word. She turned around and walked straight out of his office before she told him exactly where he could shove that idea. What the Hell was happening?

Richardson might be the one to pull a fast one on her like this, but Muldoon?

She felt betrayed more than anything. She'd thought they were friends. He didn’t even ask her if she’d consider it. Just told her.

Pack your bags.

What exactly had she done wrong?

***

Tom was outside, in front of the still-incomplete visitor centre, doing shirtless pull-ups off a tree branch, all while smoking a cigarette.

“…Seven…c’mon, come to Daddy…eight…Hey, Liz!” He stopped and dangled, sweat dripping off him, when he saw her heading his way. “Betcha can’t do more than three of these!”

No answer. Huh, that was weird. She’d normally leap at the chance to prove him wrong.

”Where ya goin’, lady?”

She kept her head ducked, hurrying along. Tom didn't like that at all. He dropped down from the branch and picked up his shirt, mopping his brow.

“Liz! Talk to me."

Still nothing.

Tom frowned and stubbed his cigarette out, pulling his shirt back on before sprinting after her.  

***

“Armstrong, come in Armstrong, over.” Arnold sounded supremely fed up as he tried to reach her. Kathy and Rico were beside him, tracking the weather systems for the next few days and working out how their dinosaur care plans might be affected.

"She isn't in the park." Kathy called to him. "She went to Muldoon's."

"Then why the Hell is she not answering, huh?! Somethin's goin' on, I'm tellin ya!" Arnold threw his radio down and spoke into his phone instead. "No, no, nothing's wrong, buddy. It's a big island, that's all."

Tom's voice drawled over the radio. "Dr Armstrong isn't feeling well, can I take a message?"

"She with you, Kennedy?" Arnold asked grumpily.

There was a break as Tom clearly consulted with someone off-air. "...who wants to know?"

"Her New York man's on the phone. It's important, apparently. Needs to get her butt down here, now. Over and out." Arnold clicked off and yelled to Kathy again. "I told you this tie was a mistake, Kitty-Kat! I am not a messenger boy!"

***

An important call from Simon. Something awful must have happened. He'd only rang her yesterday, when he'd agreed to visit.

Lizzy wasn't sure she could take any more bad news so close together. Sorry she whispered to Ray as she hurried in, he was glaring at her furiously.

“I'm here. Who died?" She asked abruptly as she took the phone.

“Huh? Nobody died, Liz! I just have some good news. Some really great news, in fact. Gonna make your whole month, babe. Couldn't wait until I saw you in person."

“Out with it then!" Maybe a little snappy, she realised.

“Uh, okay, well since I was promoted to partner at the law firm, my folks gave me a bit of money. Rather a lot of money, actually, and Liz-“ Simon paused for effect. “-we’re getting married in a year. A year next Tuesday to be exact. I did it. I booked the Plaza.”

“Oh.” Lizzy didn’t know what to say. “I, uh-…” She should be excited. But dread was rapidly filling her from the toes of her boots upwards.

Kathy, Rico and Ray had stopped conversing and were quietly watching her, sensing something was wrong.

“And my mom’s picked out a dress for you. Isn’t that great?”

What?

She fumbled for whoever’s hand was closest and grabbed it before sinking down in a chair.

“Hermana?” Rico was immediately concerned. “Lizzy?”

Suddenly she was struggling to take a breath. Her chest felt like she was being crushed inwards by a boa constrictor. Kathy stared at her hard for a moment before scurrying off to source a glass of water.

”Liz? Isn’t that great?” Simon repeated.

She didn't really hear him. She was back in Africa. Standing in the pink dawn glow, looking out to the horizon, listening to the waking calls of animals and birds echoing across the plains.

New York was crowded, and cold, and a different kind of noise. The grey kind.

Then she thought of Costa Rica, her new home. African animals replaced by dinosaurs bellowing through the hills. Her job, the job of a lifetime. The countless doors that had opened for her and her research because she was working at Jurassic Park. Simon had never understood why she just couldn’t stop, couldn't give it up, and he would never try to.

It was all so very clear now. Whether he visited or not, they just weren't going to work. They had both changed, no longer two kids in New York City, too different now.

“Uh, hello? Liz? Say something, please.” Now Simon sounded worried.

“You should have asked.” She replied quietly.

“Sorry, the line broke up just then. What did you say?”

She suddenly felt unbearably hot. The control room was so stuffy. Her breathing was shallower, she felt like she couldn't breathe out, only in, and that her ribcage might burst from the pressure.

Lizzy had always wanted a family. A real one. Ten years ago, when she first met Simon she had thought that meant a husband and kids. A Volvo and a house you paid a mortgage on. Picket fences. The American Dream. But her friends on Isla Nublar, Jeff back in Africa, that was her family.

Falling into fits of laughter with Kathy when they tried and failed to toast marshmallows on the stovetop without setting off the fire alarm. Gerry making her coffee just right. Ray's sarcastic comments that always made her laugh no matter her mood. That was home. And Simon wasn't going to ever be part of it.

She couldn't, wouldn't get married. She didn't want it, and nobody was listening to her.

“That’s very generous of them-“ She blinked hard to keep the tears in check. “But I told you, tried to tell you, I don’t want a big wedding.”

“Yeah, but this way you don’t need to worry. It’s taken care of. It’s happening.”

It’s happening. He hadn't even asked her. Africa had never seemed further away. And now Isla Nublar was being ripped from her, twice in the same day.

“Babe...aren’t you excited?”

“Simon!” She started to panic. “There isn’t going to be anyone on my side of the room in New York!”

There was a long pause, and she knew she was in trouble.

“Mom said you’d be like this.” He told her flatly. “You’d find a reason to hate it.”

“I thought we were talking about getting married in Africa-“ She tried to pacify him.

“Well, it isn’t always about what you want, Liz!” Simon was clearly upset. “I’ve waited long enough for you. We need to start having kids, before-“

“Before what?”

“Before you’re too old!”

“What did you just say?” Lizzy raised her voice, and for once, Simon didn't back down.

“You know what I mean! We’re thirty-four, and well…no offence, but time’s running out.”

“What’s happening?” Tom walked into the control room. "You havin' a team party without me? Nice, real nice." Kathy hushed him.

“I can’t do this.” Lizzy couldn’t believe the words were coming out of her mouth.

“What do you mean?” Simon’s tone became negotiating when he finally realised she was genuinely upset. “Look, if it’s that big of a deal to you we can postpone, again-“

“No, we can’t.”

“It’s fine. Maybe the year after next.”

It wasn’t fine. Nothing was fine.

“No. I can't do this. I don’t want to get married. To you…I don’t want to get married to you.”

“You don’t mean that.”

She didn't deny.

“Lizzy? Tell me you don’t mean it.”

“I can’t-“ Lizzy gulped and crushed the life out of Rico’s hand. “I don’t want to anymore. You and me. I’m so sorry-“

The disconnect tone sounded. He had hung up.

She slowly put the phone down herself, and realised what she’d done. Regret, pain, and most worrying of all, relief, filled her to the brim.

Arnold spoke first. "Baby girl, I'm so sor-"

Lizzy held up a hand. She wanted quiet. Her mind was going off the rails.

"Shit..." Tom wasn't much help.

Kathy pushed the glass of water towards her. "What do you need?"

"Si, hermana. Anything."

Lizzy got up from her chair and took off. She didn’t know where she was going, just that there were too many people staring at her and it was too much for her to stand. She ran out into the park.  

***

”Lizzy, hun!” Kathy screamed into the trees. She was getting desperate. It had been hours. The sun was sinking low, Lizzy wouldn’t stay out all night…would she?

Damn, but the island was a lot safer than the middle of the Namibian bush. It was still warm enough to sleep out. Lizzy was sure as Heck stubborn.

But accidents happen. She might have tripped and broken her ankle, and be lying unconscious at the bottom of a valley.

“Where are you, girl?” She whispered. “Don’t do this to me.”

“Want me to round up the guys for a search party?” Isaac asked her. “We could check the motion sensors too?”

“Worth a shot, but she might not be moving. Cameras won’t pick her up.” Kathy groaned.

“Well then, what do we do?”

“We don’t need a search party.” Kathy turned to walk back towards the lodge. “Unless it's a party of one."

***

Kathy made a shooing motion and nodded towards the door. "Go on, get out there. Do what you do best. Go hunt."

"It's a bit more complicated than that. And why wasn't I informed before now?" Muldoon asked gravely. "Have you been making decisions again, Baker?"

"Tom told me what happened. Between you and Lizzy. That she didn't take the idea of moving to Sorna very well." Kathy answered quietly.

"She did not." Massive understatement. Although at least he wasn't the main reason she'd done a runner. In a rather interesting development, Armstrong was no longer engaged. Which meant that his plan for Sorna had gone awry. But Muldoon couldn't worry about that yet. At this moment in time, she was a missing person. His priority was to retrieve her, and quickly.

"Well, she's not back, it's dark and we're out of options. Can you find her or what?" Kathy demanded.

"Almost certainly. She won’t get very far, at least." Muldoon grumbled as he headed to the door.

"Need some help, boss?" Tom offered.

"Hunted more vicious things than her, I'll be fine." Muldoon answered. "Maybe I should take a shock prod though, what do you reckon?"

Kathy just stared at him, open-mouthed. Even Tom looked stunned.

"I was joking." He muttered. "Christ, that bloody woman."

***

Think like Armstrong.

Damn, now that was a scary notion.

At least they were on an island. Even so, thirty square miles was a massive search area. He had to narrow it down.

So, let’s go about this logically. If he knew her, which he did of course, then this disappearing act was her way of saying she needed help. She just didn’t know how to ask, and she hated appearing weak in front of the lads.

Meaning, she wanted someone to come and get her, bring her back. She had to know it would most likely be him, since he was the only person on the island that could track worth a damn, except for Kennedy, perhaps.

So where would Armstrong go, that only he might think of?

Muldoon braked hard and put the Jeep in reverse, going back on himself to take the other turning that led towards the tyrannosaur paddock.

Of course that’s where she is.

He was certain she would be perched on the very same tree she’d riddled with bullets not long ago. A place not obvious to just anyone.

Fortunately, Muldoon wasn’t just anyone.

He chose to kill the ignition and stalk the last few hundred metres. Headlights and engine noise might scare her off, if she thought she was in trouble.

Muldoon was actually enjoying himself. Out in the park alone, at night, was a rare opportunity. Good to know he hadn’t lost his touch. It had been a long while, since he had needed to hunt for…anything, really. And this time, he had no weapon.

Because he was hunting for a wildcat. He found the clearing where the fallen tree was, without much difficulty.

”I know you’re here, Armstrong.”

He hadn’t heard her, yet. Just a feeling. That from somewhere close by, he was being watched. And his feelings, instincts, call it what you will, were very rarely wrong.

“Hurry up and say something, woman, before I trip over you.” No girl this time. He did value his life, somewhat.

If he remembered correctly the tree was off to the left, in the direction of where the tyrannosaur was rumbling around in her paddock.

Muldoon reached for his torch and scanned the ground in front of him.

Ah, there it was. He had been right all along. Boot prints tracked away from him through the mud. Looked about a size seven US. Yes, she was definitely here, definitely wanted someone to come and get her. She knew better than to wear her distinctively small boots in boggy ground if she was trying to hide from him. The prints were partially filled with water, and the surface wobbled every few seconds. Rexy was on the move.  

“Over here.” A small Scottish voice finally spoke up. “How’d you know?”

Muldoon pointed the torch in the right direction. Sure enough, hazel eyes were staring back at him in the beam of light.

“Because I know you, daft bugger.” He went to sit down next to her on the tree trunk. “Can’t hide from me.”

They were silent for a few minutes, until his radio hissed, earning a quick grunt from the startled tyrannosaur.

“-uldoon, give me some good news. Can’t see you on the monitor anymore, over.” Arnold complained.

“Found her.”

”Oh! Oh thank God- Is she-“ Kathy started babbling away until Muldoon answered she’s fine curtly and switched his radio off. They could wait.

”I had to leave, it was all a bit much.” Her voice was hoarse. She’d been crying. “Just needed some space.”

“Nobody can hear you scream out here. Except the tyrannosaur.”

”That was kind of the point.” She let her head flop back, staring up at the stars.

“Still a bloody stupid thing to do. Running off like that.”

Away from her problems, yet again.

”You must be fuming.” She stated unhappily.

“Baker’s the one who’ll crucify you when we get back.”

Just glad you’re safe. He thought the words but didn’t say them. “Did you ever pull a stunt like this with Blacklaw?” Distracting her was a good move.

“No, but he grounded me once.”

Muldoon turned his laugh into a cough. The thought of his mate attempting to ground an unrelated woman in her twenties who wasn’t much shorter than him was quite funny.

“What on Earth did you do?”

“I called Sarah Harding a c-, er…the c-word. To her face.” Lizzy grimaced. “Apparently it’s much more offensive in the States.”

“Practically a friendly greeting, back in Glasgow, I’d imagine.”

”That’s what I said!” Lizzy groaned. "Thought she was going to bloody bite me."

"Wouldn't put it past her."

"At least I won't run into her anymore if she comes to visit Gerry, since I’m meant to be packing, I suppose.”

Muldoon shifted uncomfortably. Ah, Sorna. Now he had his wits back about him, maybe he had been too hasty about sending Armstrong away. He’d acted out of spite, hadn’t asked, just told her.

”Don’t worry about Sorna at the moment.” He said eventually. “We’ll talk about it properly in the morning. When we’re both more rational.”

”Really? Do I get some input this time?” That seemed to cheer her up a little.

”You can plead your case.”

She sniffed loudly and nodded.

“Shall I give you a lift back?” It was more of a threat than a question.

There was the faintest scuff of gravel as she planted her feet further apart. Was she really about to give him the runaround?

Oh no, he wasn’t having that.

“Careful. If you think I won’t drag you back inside that Jeep just to get Baker off my case, think again.”

She was silent, the cogs were turning. Trying to figure out if she was faster than him. In the dark. Without her glasses.

Not a chance he thought.

Was she going to bolt? Or just feeling well enough now to wind him up about attempting it?

He liked either choice, to be honest. Both meant she’d forgiven him.

“Don’t do it, Armstrong.” He warned. “Don’t you dare run.”

I’d catch you. And it would make my day.

She turned to him with a tiny smile. “Yeah, okay, you win. Let’s head back.”

***

On the journey back, Lizzy took off her engagement ring.  She rolled the Jeep window down, looked out at the jungle, down at the band, debating, then rolled the window back up again, still with the ring in the palm of her hand.

”Say you lost it. Believable enough.” Muldoon offered. He’d seen the state of her bedroom.

”Better not. It was his great-grandma’s. Survived a concentration camp. Makes me a complete arsehole.” Lizzy decided. “I’ll send it back.”

”Shame, that rock would probably put my daughter through university.”

”How is she?” Lizzy was grateful for the change in subject.

”Thoroughly enjoying being the class elephant expert, thanks to you.”

She nodded, pleased. She’d spent ages on that book. Good to know her efforts were appreciated.

Lizzy felt guilty now that Muldoon had gone to all this trouble for her. She would've come back of her own accord, eventually.

She didn't remember running from the control room, or even what direction she went in once she left the building. Only that she somehow reached the tyrannosaur paddock at twilight just as the quartz lights were coming on, all over the park. Her favourite time of day.

It had seemed a good place to stop. Not too far from home, but quiet, where she wouldn't be disturbed. She'd found the fallen tree and sat for a long time as the darkness drew in around the island, listening to the bugs buzzing around and the stegosaurs lowing like cattle as they gathered together for the night.

And then Muldoon had found her. Lizzy surprised herself with how glad she was to hear his voice in the darkness, despite their falling-out.

She was even more relieved, yet  surprised he didn’t have Kathy in tow, the renowned over-thinker. Lizzy didn’t want to analyse every detail of her break-up right at that minute. Maybe never.

What did it matter? It was over now.

Muldoon put the Jeep in neutral and idled out of view of the visitor complex for a minute, turning to speak to her. “I can drive you around the other side, if you’d rather. Sneak you in through the garage. You don’t have to face everyone just yet.”

She shook her head. “It’s okay. Can’t avoid them forever.”

He nodded and they moved off again. Kathy was waiting for them on the steps at the sound of the engine in the distance, hopping from one foot to the other, trying to see if there were two people inside the Jeep.

As they drew up Lizzy spoke again.

”Thank you.”

”For what, exactly?”

”Just for knowing."

He had a feeling she didn’t mean how he'd worked out exactly where to find her. Lizzy got out of the Jeep and walked straight into Kathy's arms, holding her tightly in a hug long after the vehicle moved off again.

Muldoon ended up sitting in the parked Jeep by himself for a while, doing some thinking of his own in the garage.

Armstrong was single. It hadn't really sunk in yet.

Since she’d floored Richardson with that technical question within the first hour of her first day, he’d fancied her something terrible. And it was only getting worse the more time they spent together.

Simply put, she was brilliant. And she wasn't the only one who wanted a challenge.

But in a way, this was worse, much worse. Before, she was completely off-limits, for obvious reasons.

Now there was hope, but Muldoon's hopes had been dashed before. He wasn’t sure if he could take much more of it.

***

Thanks for reading!

The chapter title song is one that Tim Finn wrote just before he and Greta Scacchi split up in 1989. Greta in the 90s is my faceclaim for Lizzy. The song seemed fitting for this one 🖤

And Lizzy and Simon are through. A comfortable relationship isn’t always a happy one, unfortunately.

#jurassic park oc #living dangerously #welcome to jurassic park #oc: dr lizzy armstrong #jurassic park female oc #jurassic park #jurassic park fanfiction #my writing #my fanfiction

[blackcat2907]

2, 3 and 8 🤞

Hello! Alright, let's answer some questions.

2.) Share a snippet of an old WIP that you never posted. Oh boy

Luke huffed as he wiped the blood of his brow. His choked back a sob as the once blue escape route had fizzled to a red and faded. There would be no escape this time. And Luke didn't care. All he knew was his friends got out alive and he needed to finish this once and for all.

"where are you, you little traitorous bastard?" Kronos called out, stalking around the corner into the hallway. Luke clamped a hand over his mouth to keep quiet. Thirty more seconds. "You can't hide forever. Face it. You've lost. The Olympians are falling, you are alone, and no one, NO ONE CAME FOR YOU!" He laughed and Luke clenched his teeth. "That's all you were, a tool. A tool for their last ditch effort. And...you've LOST!"

Luke was pulled from his hiding spot. "So what?" Luke scoffed, holding the detonator in his hand. "I let go of this button and we all go up in flames. I knew what I was getting into when I started. I was only foolish enough to hope no one would needlessly die."

"FOOL!" Luke stared Kronos in the eyes and he thought about all those who died. Zoë, Bianca, Charles Beckendorf, Lee, Michael, Castor, Silena, Ethan. And so, so many more.

A single tear ran down his face and Luke let go of the button. A loud boom and silence was all he remembered before Luke gave into the dark, cold embrace of death, dragging Kronos with him.

3.) One of your fics you wish more people read?

Either Ride or Die or probably Fall From Grace

8.) How do I feel about my most popular fic?

Really freaking proud. It's Confirm Kill: A Top Gun/NCIS Story. It all came from me watching NCIS LA and thinking how cool it would be to write a story where the pilots from TG:M were targeted by a serial killer and NCIS investigates. I'm so surprised it's gotten so popular and fun fact: the episode of NCIS LA I watched, Callen said this line that called me out so hard bc I was watching said episode for research for this story: "I bet you write fanfiction in your free time" CALLEN CALLING ME OUT smh

Well that's all! If you have any questions about the snippet, just ask!

Thank you, and I hope you enjoyed these answers.

#asked and answered #kat answers #send more if you want #thank you for asking!

[d-lissa]

Liveblogging TMA - Season 2 - MAG 72-75

"I feel like I should be upfront with this right at the beginning. I’m probably a cannibal."

TAKEAWAY :

... Oh great. More cannibalism.

But that sure was an opening line.

Gotta say, the graphic descriptions of physical harm had me wincing in pain, but it definitely was one of the most entertaining narrator we've had in the story. He's just some guy !

I guess it is pretty alright for me to assume that, whatever the thing behind the episodes with meat are, it would be probably the closest thing to famine, right ?

And so, Amherst is probably pestilence.

if we're still on the whole "Four of the Apocalypse" thing. But rather, I think they'd be part of the concepts ? For exemple, "Death" is definitely, maybe, probably "The End" right ?

So maybe it is the case for all four of them.

Suplemental, he is WORRIED about his FRIEND and I have FEELINGS about it !!

Why didn't he want Daisy to be there though ?

POLICE LIGHTS :

"As the door opened, every light in the building went dark."

Well, that was not disturbing at all !

Yeah, I so do not believe that Rayner is dead. Like, cute, but I don't buy it. Definitely not the last chapter of this story.

Basira is totally going to die, isn't she ?

Damn it. I liked her.

I have no idea as to why the cult kidnapped the child, or who told the police that they did it, and at this point, I am barely keeping myself from just keep going and give up on this whole liveblogging thing so I can get the rest of the story.

I won't though. Obviously not.

I wonder what Daisy was doing during all of this.

And so, Jonathan is back to being completely alone, surrounded by people he physically can not trust. Guess that asking Basira for help with the tunnels is a no go.

Still, she did care.At least enough to advise him to just get out of here. He really should, honnestly, but at this point, I too am afraid as to what would happen to him if he did. I can't imagine that the title of "Archivist", whatever it means, is an easy one to shed off.

I think Gertrude probably tried very hard already. She didn't seem to enjoy being one.

FATIGUE :

"I tell him I don’t know which day he means, and he laughs and laughs and laughs until my nose begins to bleed."

... Ah.

That one hit a little too close to home.

Definitely a top tier episode for me, right up there with "Hive". I seem to have adquired a taste for those.

I have no idea what Michael is or why he would do that, or if he's even the one doing that, but this hurt to hear.

Supplemental, there were two people in the tunnels, one of them being Sasha, which is. Yeah, I figured. I am glad that Jon saw it though. That he'll focus more on her too.

And then someone else, taking statements. Why, who and how are all a mystery, but we know they have been doing so since at least the beginning of the season, according to the trailer.

This entire situation is such a mess, and at this point, I'm the one feeling fatigued of all the stress and worry I am feeling for Jonathan.

And all I know is that whatever is behind this case in particular would probably be my own fear personified. This one or the one with trapping you with no one in sight while you're struggling against the elements, drifting for so long that you can lose your mind to it.

A LONG WAY DOWN :

" I really hope Grant is dead. Because, if not, I have a horrible feeling deep inside that he’s still on that ladder."

More of the liminal spaces and people trapped in places without anyone around. Unlike with "Freefall", "High Pressure" and "Personal Space" (maybe even "Alone" or "John's Lost Cave", somehow ? There are similarities, but not as many) though,, the person here very much hated what he was forced to do, compared to the others who at first absolutely loved it, were forced to hate their biggest passion in life, and being absolutely terrified of them.

All of those have this concept of infinite places, cut off from everyone. A vast amount of space, seemingly infinite, and yourself trapped with nothing but this place.

Terrifying.

Jon himself makes the connection between Kelly and Michael. I say that Mike, after having been trapped in the book, became some sort of host(?)/avatar(?) of the concept the book belongs to. I wonder if in any other of those spaces, there are more of those gigantic monsters. "Ex Altiora" was, after all, the poem of a monster so big, so large, that people would have rather jumped to their death than confront it.

People in those spaces don't get tired, or hungry or thirsty, right ? They just. Do the same thing over and over again, with no chance to escape.

I am guessing that Simon and the Lukas all follow this one concept, the way the Archive follows the open eye, or the cult does the closed one. A Lukas for each space existing, I guess ?

Ah well.

On the mystery, Basira is back with stolen cassettes because she said ACAB and I love that for her. I do really hope she won't get killed, I just really like her too. Do you think the police too follows a concept ? Maybe a similar one to the Archives' ? Would explain how they got their tip on Maxwell.

I want to know more.

So much more about all of this !

The quote of the post will be :

"The moment I die will feel just the same as this one."

End Liveblogging.

#tma #the magnus archive #liveblogging #liveblog-tma

[newhavenrp]

Is that BLAKE MICHAEL? No, that’s [TAJ RIVERA]. The 26 year old WIND MOON - WERELION ALPHA MALE  is a FORMER TAVERN WORKER NOW LAW ENFORCEMENT. If you ask their friends, they’re known to be BRAVE & KIND, but beware, they’re also known to be ANTISOCIAL & OBSTINATE. Their friends also say that they’re into ROPES & BREATHPLAY but don’t you dare trying  UROPHILIA & FEMINIZATION with them. 

Being the first born was always something special, it meant a certain kind of pressure rested on said first born’s back and many of those faltered under the pressure, but not Taj. He fought his own fights, for sure - had his own struggles, but the world had to try harder to take him down. Taj wasn’t the happiest child growing up, but he knew he was loved - at least by his dame, he barely saw his father. Sindra was a complicated man. Always busy with work, yet when he was home, work followed, or he’d spend his free time with his significant other. When Taj was young, he still believed in love - he believed in the love between his sire and his dame, but as he grew older, he began to understand the truth. 

Love was a myth. His dame was not in love, he was not happy - he was not free. Taj though, he was. When he could barely walk, his dame began to train him at home, teaching him the basics of close combat and when Taj was eight years old, his dame talked his father into letting him train with the Royal Guard and who wouldn’t want to say their first born was a knight for the king’s crown? So he’d agreed. Taj met Orion, who would end up being more of a sire to him than his actual sire.

As he grew older and older, he began to understand more and more. One being the regular visits of Trenton Coliar, that coincidentally matched his dame’s heats - the other being his sire’s cold stare whenever he looked at him and his siblings. He presented quite early, Alpha. He was fifteen at the time. Everybody was happy for him, including his dame. One pup less to worry about, he’d said. But, he was also looking more and more like Trenton and that resemblance didn’t go unnoticed, it didn’t help that Sindra’s guards were reinforcing the rumors due to the Alpha himself trash-talking his cub when he felt like it. 

Taj met Trenton Coliar a few times, but remembered only very little from his visits. He did remember the look on his dame’s face before and after the Alpha came to visit. He never asked what happened, but he had his own suspicions. At training, the others poked fun at him a lot, the older guards had only very little fondness left for him as Trenton was known for his bad behavior and most of them had had at least one bad run-in with him. Orion did his best to keep Taj and his brothers safe, but he couldn’t always be there and Taj would rather die than to let his brothers get hurt. 

Then, after his youngest siblings were born - twins and both of them presented as bears early on, something shifted at home. Sindra was angrier than usual and his dame was seen less than usual, but when they did, he didn't look good. Bruises covered his body, blood on his lips. But what could they possibly do to help? The next time Trenton was called over, everything seemed to be the same, but when his dame lost another cub early and Trenton was called over, he just knew something happened. Sindra seemed changed, even colder when looking at them and after that, Trenton stopped coming and it took him a long time to understand why. Sindra left them alone most of the time now, would only return every few months and nobody really seemed to mind. Least of all Silas. Though Taj knew his dame's torment was far from over. He knew he would do everything he could to change that.

Taj was still an Alpha, one with a good name and he fought for his place among the knights. As did his brothers. He thought they were all doing quite well. And Taj never lost hope that becoming a knight would allow him to bring justice to criminals and protect the home he held quite dear.  

Ever since he was little, he helped his dame with his siblings, so the bond between him and his younger brothers is quite thick. His dame never forced him to help, but he saw Silas struggle and felt it his responsibility to help where he could. He was also there when his dame needed emotional support or when he was sick. Taj had to grow up faster than his siblings, but he never blamed his dame for it. He knew Silas did his best, he was barely an adult when Taj was born - he was trying. He did inherit his dame’s antisocial tendencies though, but thankfully they were developed as strongly. With his siblings growing older, that eased up a little, too. 

When he turned 25, he did it. He became a Knight, thanks to Orion who still watched over him, but it was also then that he realized he could finally bring justice to the one person in his life he loved the most. His dame. Together with Orion and his little brother Remy, they worked out a plan to smuggle Silas out of the Royal City. Orion faked paperwork, Remy brought his dame outside that night and Taj drove him to Willowshire, but he didn’t go in with him. He hadn’t been ready yet, had still believed in the Royal City and his siblings. 

The following weeks were a nightmare, he found out that his dame hadn’t just been a lord’s possession, but also that he was of royal blood - if only partially, which … made him the same? Orion took the fall for his plan and demanded Taj stayed to live his life as a knight, but Taj never felt comfortable again in the Royal City after watching the Royal Guard escort the man to the gate. It was wrong. So wrong. Officially, Orion was marked a traitor, but Taj and his brothers knew the truth because they were part of the Guard. 

Still, he stayed. He’d promised his dame and Orion to live life to the fullest, but when months after everything happened, his … Sindra set him up in a relationship much like his dame and him, he flipped. He wanted to stay in the Royal City and become a Knight to make the world better, not add to its misery. But truth was harsh, sadly. He had to accept that nothing he said or did would change a broken system. He was raised to believe in equality, but only very, very few others could even begin to understand. 

It’s been almost a year now and he’s made his decision. He knows Remy is close to snapping as well, but he won’t push him. They all had to make their own decisions, it was their lives. Same for the youngest, the twins. They’d have to decide to follow to Willowshire on their account. Taj told them he’d leave, but they weren’t ready yet and that was okay, they knew where they could find him. 

When he arrived in Willowshire and found out about the packs, he knew pack Blazepelt was not the one he wanted to be in, despite his fighting skills. He didn’t exactly have the skills to become part of pack Springcrest who resonated most with him, so he joined the Ambersky pack as a tavern worker - a job he wasn’t really too fond of, but he’d done his best anyway, as usual. He liked the peaceful, calm environment that is Ambersky.

New Haven

Taj landed in the strange new land with a group of others in the center of a huge village with buildings taller than Taj ever could’ve imagined. New York, they called it. It was loud, it was crowded, it was hectic. Lights, carriages that drove on their own - it was quite the shock, but thankfully they were soon found and rescued from this strange human world. Brought to a town supposedly safe for their kind, Taj soon found out that there were more like him already in New Haven. Time travelers, they called them. Including his dame, thank Mother Nature and his little sister. 

Yearning to defend justice, Taj joins law enforcement after his dame.

#character name: taj rivera #species: werelion #species: werecreature #pack: felis #second gender: alpha

[rozzywell]

W........ Analyzing again

#thinking about things and word choices and best friends and lore and #h..... #I'm pretty sure this was word-for-word in the episode but it's been a while since I watched s1 stuff #but the novelization has that ''I had a lot of partners and I lost a lot of them. I'm not losing the best one I've ever had.'' interaction #and I'm Thinking About It #michael had so many friends die on him... and those who didn't die on him now think he's dead... #and he's given a new friend who's literally designed for him and is basically unkillable so OBVIOUSLY he's gonna get attached #and then! #applying that to the later episodes where kitt gets Very Very Damaged? #Pain™ #you thought you finally had a friend who you didn't have to see get hurt? you were Wrong #you can seemingly never be free from that and it SUCKS!! #also!!!!! the ''I'm not losing you'' bit comes right after michael was calling out a cop bc Police Brutality #so it was literally ''I was a cop and now I realize that system is Beyond fucked up. here's what's important to me now.'' and like!!! #aaaa!!!!! yelling! #but for everyone's sake I am going to stop yelling #you're welcome #roz posts #kr #don't rb obviously

[fkevin073]

Ever been slightly disappointed by a series ending? Like I wasn't impressed by BBC Merlin.

OMG this is literally my time to shine my apologies for the essay that I'm about to write-

spoilers for Jane the Virgin, Merlin, The Vampire Diaries, The 100 and Game of Thrones!!

okay so we've already talked a bit about Jane the Virgin so my disappointment in the series finale was because Jane and Rafael ended up getting married and I didn't buy that they were right for each other. I liked Rafael best in season 3 B when he wasn't an entitled jealous asshole. I'm rewatching parts of the show now, and I still enjoy it, but yeah. If Michael had stayed dead I wouldn't have minded it so much. I digress.

I watched BBC Merlin too! That's one of my favourite shows ever! I mean the ending depressed the shit out of me not gonna lie. Like I like the acting a lot, but a lot of the writing choices don't make sense. Like why didn't Merlin call the dragon sooner before Arthur died? And why did Arthur die so soon? Like he was king for five years, he didn't unite Albion at all. I think Merlin's magic should have been unveiled in the season 4 finale during the fight with Morgana and then the rest of season 5 should have been Arthur dealing with it. Oh, the angst! there's a really great video about it here I watched ages ago: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hCepGCDjhBc

The ending makes me cry, but it doesn't ruin my overall enjoyment of the show, you know? (also, this might be controversial, but if Gaius and Kilgarrah hadn't pushed Merlin so hard into hiding the truth from Morgana, she wouldn't have turned evil)

The Vampire Diaries is the absolute opposite for me. I don't know if you've watched it, but this show was the first tv show I was genuinely obsessed with as like a preteen. I loved it. But everything from season 4 onwards infuriates me. This is an unpopular opinion I know, but I was always Team Stefan. Like I never wavered once and I didn't get why people loved Damon so much, especially Damon and Elena. When Stefan and Elena broke up in season 4 some essential part of the show just got lost for me. And I really hated Elena with Damon. I mean I dislike Damon in general because I think he's selfish and his relationship with Elena is toxic, but yeah. In the ending Stefan dies saving Damon and the town and he tells Damon he's the better man and everything and I was like?? No?? Stefan was 100% the better brother and I will always be bitter that Nina Dobrev didn't come back for the entire 8th season because then stolen would have been endgame. I could talk about this for ages.

And for Game of Thrones - well, I feel like the entire internet has gone on rants about that. It was just so rushed. Such a shame. Like seasons 1-6 were perfection. Even season 7 was relatively passable. But season 8? Besides those first 2 episodes? A complete clusterfuck. If they'd pushed the season to 10 episodes I think it would have been mildly better. Possibly. Who knows?

And then for The 100. I loved the first two seasons of this show. Like they're so good, especially for a CW tv show. But season 3 disappointed me for many reasons, so I didn't keep up with the show fully, just enough to understand what was going on. Some people in my family watched the other seasons so it was easy to watch in passing with them. But then I really liked season 6. Bellamy/Clarke (the two leads of the show and probably the most popular ship in the series) were hinted at being in love, something that I and many other fans were waiting for. I was really psyched for season 7, the last season.

And I shit you not, it was the worst season of television I've ever watched in my life. The series leads are barely in the episodes (like Bellamy, the male lead, is in 5 of 16 episodes?maybe? ) and his character is killed by Clarke (when they're best friends and she literally implied she loved him more than her mom at one point for the dumbest reason on the planet. And no one cares. I'm not kidding. Clarke kills Bellamy because he believed in something (I don't even remember what I tried to block it from my mind the show was so awful by that point) and then it turns out he was right. Ughh. It was so stupid. I can't even try and rewatch the seasons I actually enjoyed because the ending infuriates me so much.

Anyway, those are my main ones. Idk if you've watched any of the shows beside JTV and Merlin but I'd love to discuss it! apologies for the essay again.

#jane the virgin #the 100 #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #the vampire diaries #tvd #stefan salvatore #bellarke #game of thrones #got

[therealvinelle]

Hi, love your metas and your fic. I think you mentioned somwhere that at the end of BD Aro was trying to prevent the fight. What were his motives? According to Edward, the Volturi are cowards, but I didn't get this feeling. Caius was begging for a battle, the guard vocally proclaimed willingness to die for the cause... hell, Jane had to be restrained from running to Bella and punching her in the throat. And I find it unlikely that their leader is less brave than them. Explain Aro's brain pls

Thank you so much! That’s really nice of you to say. And sorry for the late answer.

And explain Aro’s brain, whew. That is a very big question with a very long answer and this post will be a manifesto by the time I’m done. But you wanted Aro’s brain explained so manifesto it is.

So, before we go anywhere I have to make the distinction between Aro of the books and Aro of the movies. Those two are different people.

Starting with appearance, because casting does a lot for me and if a big deviation is made it better be like Ruth Wilson as Marisa Coulter, which is to say it better fit the character. Also, disclaimer, I think most of Twilight was miscast, and especially the Volturi. I’m forever dying at Caius looking like Lucius Malfoy. However, this is an Aro post, so we’re highlighting Aro.

Aro of the books is a twenty-something Greek with skin that has petrified and eyes covered in a milky sort of film, which totals to him looking perfect, as all vampires do, yet frail. When he walks it looks like he’s gliding. This is an otherworldly, ancient, inhuman being. He’s energetic and excitable, yes, but if anything that should add to how very other he is. Casting Michael Sheen is a clear signal that the movies were going in a completely different direction with Aro. Sheen is a great actor who played what he was given perfectly, but what he was given was a very different character.

In New Moon the book, Aro first rejects Edward request because this is Carlisle’s gifted son, and more, this is not what the Volturi do. They are not hitmen. It’s just a big no all around.

Bella enters, and the Aro she meets is a very polite and gracious man who’s delighted to see the human still alive, and pleased Carlisle’s son won’t be suicidal anymore. However, Edward fully intended to step into the sunlight in the middle of Volterra, specifically to provoke the Volturi, and he has broken the law with Bella. Further, Edward makes it clear that he fully intends to walk out of Volterra with his human still human, and that she’ll die of old age if he gets his way. Edward’s contempt of the law could not be more clear. However, Alice shows Aro that Bella’s fate is sealed, she turns or she dies. The law will be upheld. Aro is glad to hear it, and lets the Cullens all go home.

All in all, it’s a very tense occasion where Edward has put Aro in a difficult position, because he’s trying to force him to kill his best friend’s son, and Aro goes “YES THANK GOD” when Alice finally gives him an out.

New Moon of the movies was not this. Starting with the flashback (because I’m being thorough), Aro executes a lowly criminal himself.  I object to that, I think that’s a menial task and Aro doing it himself made the Volturi look less regal, not more. Cut to the present day, Aro rejects Edward’s request because he doesn’t want to waste his gift. We get the whole meeting with Bella, and Aro… well I don’t know why he does any of the things he does. This guy never mentions his friendship to Carlisle, tries to kill our plucky heroes three times in the space of one minute (one, gives Felix the order to kill Bella, stopped by Edward. Two, moves to decapitate Edward, stopped by Bella. Three, he’s about to eat Bella, stopped by Alice), and when he lets them go it feels terribly convenient.

This was a guy written to be the villain of the series, and it showed.

Cut to Breaking Dawn part I’s ending scene, and while I love the song choice for the scene, and fully agree that Aro considers misspelling Carlisle’s name to be a capital offense, the scene itself… we are presented with a villainous, power-hungry megalomaniac who’s just waiting to strike against the Cullens.

We then get Breaking Dawn part II, and I haven’t seen that movie in years but I remember the fight scene well enough. Aro kills Carlisle with the biggest grin on his face, and gives the go-ahead to his Volturi to kill the surviving Cullens and their witnesses.

Contrast that with canon, where Aro’s first words to Carlisle are «Nothing would make me happier than preserving your life today». Now, he’s making it very clear that this meeting will most likely end with Carlisle’s death, but he’s not happy about it. He’s certainly not going to kill him with a smile on his face and laughter in his heart.

The movies needed a hammy villain, and that’s what Michael Sheen played. It is not who Aro is, at all. And he’s not the only character this happened to, but again, this is an Aro post so I’m not going to start raging like Don Corleone about what they did to my boys.

So, with the movies firmly expelled from the post, let’s look at the Twilight series from Aro’s point of view.

Or, rather, we’ll have to start earlier because Aro’s decisions throughout the series are pretty clearly motivated by Carlisle. And that means considering, “why is Carlisle so important, anyway?”

Consider these things: one, Aro is gifted with the power of knowing every single thought a person has ever had. He knows your soul. Two, Aro is the leader of the supernatural world, he has been for over a thousand years.

How many friends does a person with that power and in that position have?

Three, who does Aro even come into contact with?

Starting with number three, for Aro it’s going to be 1) criminals, 2) Volturi guard hopefuls, 3) Weirdos like Laurent who are wasting Aro’s time.

(“But what about the guard!” Well, while we observe close interpersonal relationships between Aro and Jane, and Aro and Renata, and one can assume Corin to be close to the wives, the distinction between Volturi coven and Volturi guard remains. The guards are servants, in some cases beloved servants, but servants nonetheless. It would be inappropriate and weird for Aro to start slumming it with Demetri and Felix)

So, Aro doesn’t get out much, which brings us to point two. The people he does meet, and who are willing to entertain a friendship with the Volturi leader, are going to be people who want something. And that might work for some rulers, Louis XIV built Versailles specifically to make his subjects do this for him, but he had something to gain politically from that. Aro does not, his power is supreme without a need to tolerate brown nosers. More, with his own and Marcus’ gifts, he’ll know right away that he’s being used for power. He would get nothing out of it.

Finally point one, Aro’s gift. Say that we have a vampire who’s not a weirdo and who thinks Aro’s a cool dude. Well, the question now is, who would ever want a person in their life who knows all there is to know about them? I wouldn't want anybody to know every thought I've ever had, I certainly would never seek out a person to know me that deeply when I could just go find normal people to be friends with instead. Not to mention how incredibly unequal such a friendship would be.

In short, I don’t think Aro has any friends.

Enter Carlisle a very amiable person who cherishes Aro for his personality, and doesn’t mind having his mind read. Aro just found a unicorn. Carlisle on his end likes Aro so much that he lives with him for decades. Even if you want to read their relationship as platonic, that’s still a very strong friendship.

Point being that Carlisle is unbelievably precious to Aro, and so very unique. Aro has lived for over three millennia, and never met anyone like this before. There won’t be another Carlisle.

This in turn makes him willing to stretch as far as he can to preserve that friendship and, as the plot thickens, keep Carlisle alive.

Fast forwards to 2006, and Aro is sitting in Volterra minding his own business when Carlisle’s son walks into town demanding his own execution. He has not committed any crimes. Not only is assisted suicide not something the Volturi even do, but this would ruin Aro’s friendship with Carlisle. Even if Carlisle was miraculously understanding of Aro killing his son (which I can’t imagine he would be), this would never leave the air between them. Carlisle could never be around him again after something like that.

So, Aro turns down Edward’s request. “Stupid Volturi man ruining my dramatic suicide, I’ll show him who’s boss!” Edward replies, and runs shirtless into the sunlight. I’m sure Aro was just dying, you had “The Sound of Silence” playing as he stared into nothingness because how is this happening to him. A whiplash of an hour later, Bella is alive again, Aro is happy, we can be done with this now, right? Right?!

No, Edward says, we cannot be done with this. He’s still refusing to turn Bella.

And so we get that whole New Moon exchange where Aro very tellingly shoves the part where Edward WALKED INTO THE SUNLIGHT IN VOLTERRA under the carpet and out of the conversation (for comparison: Irina is executed for false testimony and Bree for breaking a law she didn’t know existed), and he even allows Bella to leave human when he could easily have bitten her himself to keep the Cullens honest. This guy went out of his way to be lenient and show the Cullens good faith.

And then a few months later Irina walks into Volterra, bearing memories of what is unmistakably a Cullen immortal child.

Aro may care for Carlisle, but this is the guy who killed his baby sister so he’d still have Marcus’ gift. He will bend far, very far, for those he cares about, but he will not break. It’s duty above love, Volturi above Aro’s personal preferences. An immortal child is not an offense that can be tolerated, and so it’ll be Didyme 2: Aro Kills Someone He Loves Boogaloo.

By now I think it should be quite clear why I think Aro was trying to prevent the fight. Battle would have meant Carlisle’s certain death.

(And that’s even assuming the Volturi won the fight. With Bella there, there was a chance the Volturi wouldn’t prevail. But even before Bella started showing off, Aro was very much hoping this wouldn’t be another Didyme situation.)

#aro #volturi #carlisle cullen #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #the sad thing is that i have so much more to say about Aro #this is only the first of many posts #Anonymous #ask #i guess i also have to tag #aro/carlisle #sorry guys my terrible ship is leaking into my metas #but damnit IT'S A GOOD SHIP #long post