#i think i can die happy now this is my magnum opus

[elliewiltarwyn]

another mount rokkon be like

the roemies are having fun in criterion prog >:3

@oneiroy @verysmallcyborg @viiioca

[allysunny]

heyyy hope ur well <3 i looooove ur writing so much it’s amazing! i had a request for bruce if that’s ok 24 & 2 + a book i was reading gave me an idea lol so could the reader be in an unhealthy abusive toxic relationship and falls for bruce who treats her soooo well and loves her soooo much unlike who she is currently with (she could have a reason why she can’t leave her partner maybe she’s so scared) and bruce is there for her always protecting her looking out for her worrying about her spoiling her he he genuinely is in love with her and you can add all ur magic to it and all ur awesome ideas. anyway if it’s not something u think fit ur writing or u don’t have enough time don’t worry it’s totally ok :))))) <3 <3 have a great day xx

For the Better

“You light up even the darkest of days” + “Please don’t leave me” + Kiss on the lips x Bale!Bruce Wayne

Pairing: Bale!Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Words: 22.1k words

Warnings: Abusive & toxic relationship, domestic violence, gaslighting, lying, manipulation, I'm talking really, really unhealthy relationship, angst, bruises and some blood, fluff, angst with happy ending, kissing, I literally don't know how else to tag this, but please read the warnings because this is a very fucked up relationship.

A/N: Hey everyone! This is the last entry for my 200 Followers Event. I want to thank everyone who participated and all those who showed their support. That means the world to me.

Now, oh my god. This is my magnum opus, I believe. It took me a whole week to write this. This fic is the apple of my eye, my baby, my sin, my soul, I would die for this. I think it's my best work so far. I have worked my ass off for this, I really have, and I have no words to convey just how special and dear this fic is to me.

I would also like to apologise if there are any inconsistencies - I started writing it last Monday and finished it Saturday, so it's been nearly a week and I might've forgotten small details as the days went on. I tried to proofread it!

I really hope you guys will enjoy it and cherish it as much as I did. <3

To Bruce, you were the most gorgeous woman in the entire world.

Your eyes could rival even the brightest star in the sky, the sun did not hold a candle to how radiant your smile was, and no flower could compare to your beautiful. You were simply gorgeous, inside, and out.

Unfortunately, you weren’t his.

Bruce had met you during a charity event. Some wealthy couple was raising funds for the Gotham Police Department (even though Bruce did not believe half of them deserved such charity), and he had of course been invited. The couple in question could not care less about philanthropy – they were merely trying to appear that way. That’s Gotham, for you.

You’d been waitressing during the event, carrying trays of hors-d'œuvre and champagne, smiling politely at guests and trying to do your job the best you could. You’d walked by him twice, and although you weren’t really paying attention to the guests (you were far more preoccupied with not tripping and making a scene), he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

He was so mesmerised, that he found himself searching for you whenever he wasn’t talking to anyone else. Sometimes when you returned to the kitchen, he saw you talking to your coworkers, smiling, and giggling about.

After a few hours of being bored to death by patrons with faux smiles and untrue compliments, he was ready to call it a night and return to the loneliness of his mansion – and that’s when you caught his attention.

Or rather, everyone’s attention.

You’d bumped into someone’s shoulder (it was actually someone’s shoulder who had bumped into you) and spilled the tray of appetisers on top of an old man who wasn’t pleased with the situation. The man, who he recognised as Charles Carnegie – a crooked businessman famous for his dabbles with illegal gambling and corruption – yelled at you, insulting you with every name in the book. The man was just about to raise his hand, no doubt to strike you across your face, when Bruce intervened, rushing between the two of you and gripping the man’s arm.  

Charles looked up in confusion and his turbulent eyes widened in recognition.

“Mr. Wayne!” he exclaimed, voice dripping with anger, “Let go of me this instant. Did you not see what happen? This foolish girl was not paying attention and spilled her tray all over me. I do not know how such incompetent staff can be hired. Someone ought to teach this insubordinate brat a lesson!”

Bruce’s hold on the man’s arm only tightened. How dare he speak to you like that? You were standing behind him, head hung low and muttering a string of apologies that were barely audible.

“Mr. Carnegie, if anyone here deserves to be taught a lesson, it is you.” He said, eyes narrowing. “Your inebriation and inability to watch where you’re going is not this woman’s fault. If you cannot behave at a public function, perhaps you shouldn’t think of attending. This server is not at fault, and you will apologize to her.”

The older man scoffed and tried stepping away from Bruce’s grip but failing.

“How dare you! Mr. Wayne, this – this – this harlot bumped into me! My suit is ruined, and she has insulted my dignity. Let go of me this instant, Mr. Wayne, or else – “

“Or else what?” Bruce asked, his voice dropping to a whisper, audible only to the man standing in front of him. “We are currently surrounded by the police our hosts were so kind to fundraise for. The entire Gotham Police Department is here, and while I know that most of them are corrupt scum like you, I am also familiar with the ones who would be more than overjoyed to throw you into jail for illegal gambling, embezzlement of funds and propositioning. I can ruin you with nothing short of three sentences, and you can bet that should you not apologize to the young woman standing behind me, I will.”

The colour drained from Charles’s face, and he stuttered, trying to come up with a decent response. It was no secret that the Carnegies were a powerful family. But the Waynes were almost royalty, and everyone in Gotham would rather swallow their whole fist than get into their bad graces. Especially Bruce Wayne’s. Surely, a man who showed up to every social function with not only a new car but a gorgeous new woman on his arm, wasn’t afraid to pull a few strings to get what he wanted – even if that meant ruining someone’s life.

“I – I – Mr. Wayne, how dare you – “

“Apologize to the young lady, or I will personally make sure all your belongings are gone by the time this godforsaken party is over. You’ll be sleeping on the floor before you can threaten me or anyone else again.”

Charles stuttered a few more times, before gulping and nodding. Bruce released his arm, and the man was quick to hold his wrist, twisting it a few times. Who would’ve known the Wayne orphan had such a death grip?

He looked up and Bruce moved out of his way to partially reveal you, yet still close enough to protect you should Charles decide to hurt you further.

“I – I am…” he stumbled over his words, shaking his head. “My apologies, Miss. My behaviour was… It was unacceptable. I am sorry for my lack of attention, and for bumping into you. I hope you can accept my most sincere apologies.” The words sounded scared – not necessarily genuine but scared – and they almost made Bruce smirk.

“It’s alright,” you muttered, eyes still fixated on the floor. “Don’t worry about it.”

Bruce wrinkled his nose at how meek you sounded and looked around himself. The situation had turned rather awkward – people were staring in his direction and murmuring to themselves. So, he did the only thing plausible.

“Ladies and gentlemen, why are we standing here, when the caviar has just been served?” he exclaimed loudly, plastering on his most charming Bruce Wayne smile, which had the guests immediately react, answering with soft chuckles of their own. “Our lovely police force should be honoured the right way – but that doesn’t mean they should get all the good food for themselves!”

The crowd that had formed around you three quickly dissipated, and so did Bruce’s smile when he finally got a good look at you. You were down on your knees, picking up your tray and trying to pick up some of the appetisers to clean up your mess a bit.

“Hey,” he chided softly to get your attention. “Hey, please, look at me.”

When you didn’t, he kneeled down next to you.

That’s when he saw you. Truly saw you.

Your face was puffy, eyes red and wet with tears that you’d tried your best to wipe away. You looked nervous and miserable, and all Bruce wanted to do was bring you close and make you feel better.

“Sir, I – he was right,” you mumbled, shaking your head, trying your best to clean up the floor with nothing but your bare hands and the napkin you carried on your arm. “I bumped into him. You shouldn’t have gone through all that trouble.”

“I saw him,” Bruce replied softly. “He bumped into you. And even if he hadn’t, it did not mean he had the right to hit you. I was not going to let him do it.”

You nodded and sighed, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your arm.

“I caused you all that trouble. I’m really sorry. Shit, I feel terrible. I ruined that man’s suit and made such a mess… Nathan would mock me to hell and back if he saw me like this…” this caused the dam to break, and you wept loudly. Bruce did not really know what to do. What did one do whenever a woman was crying? He’d had a few one-night-stands in which the women cried once they realised he wanted nothing more to do with them, but they usually left by themselves, claiming he was a “heartless jerk”, and that was the rest of it.

He took the napkin from your hands and offered you a reassuring smile.

“If it makes you feel better that man deserved it. Charles Carnegie is a well-known corrupt and needed a reality check. If I could, I would’ve probably done that on purpose.”

This earned a soft chuckle from you, and you stood up, Bruce following right after.

“I’m going to call someone to take care of this.” You said, to which Bruce nodded.

“I’ll come with you.”

“There’s really no need for that, it’s okay – “

“Nonsense. That old jerk might try to follow you and threaten you again. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

You nodded, and quickly made your way towards the kitchen, where you asked for someone’s help. They were quick to reply, and within a few minutes, the whole place was spotless, and no one could tell anything had happened if they looked at the floor.

As soon as it was done, you turned to Bruce and offered him a small smile.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Wayne. What you did back there was very kind. I don’t even know how I could ever repay you.”

Bruce lifted a hand and shook his head.

“There’s no need to repay me. I’m just happy I could help.”

You nodded sheepishly, and extended your hand, telling him your name.

“It’s very nice to meet you.”

Bruce shook it and his hold may have lingered on yours for a tad longer than what would have been acceptable, before tasting your name on his lips.

“It’s a lovely name. I’m Bruce. Wayne.”

“Yes – I gathered. Everyone knows you,” you chuckled.

“Sometimes I wish they didn’t.” He confided.

“I’m not sure that’s for the best. Being invisible has its downsides, I’m afraid.”

You gave him his number, and the two began to talk rather quickly, even going as far as deciding to gather for ice-cream about two weeks after your initial meeting. He texted you, saying he knew of a fantastic ice-cream parlour next to his company’s building, and invited you. You’d agreed almost instantly, replying with a bunch of emojis – and that’s how you found yourself next to Bruce Wayne, eating ice-cream. You’d gotten a lemon flavoured scoop, while Bruce went for mint.

“I was surprised you wanted to meet up!” You said, beaming up at him once you had paid for your sweet treat. Or rather, after Bruce had paid for it. He insisted, telling you he couldn’t possibly let a lady pay. You made him promise he’d let you pay next time, to which he replied, “We’ll see”.

“Really?” He replied. “Why is that?”

“Well, you’re Bruce Wayne. Don’t you have like, I don’t know, a bazillion cars to drive, and a bunch of models to date, and lots of money to spend? Why’d you invite me to ice-cream?”

“I’m spending my money on ice-cream,” he gave you a cheeky smirk.

“That’s not what I meant.” You chuckled and ate a spoonful of the treat in your hand.

“To be honest, my day was going terribly. I needed some fresh air, and you seemed like good company.” He was being as honest as he could. His day at Wayne Enterprises was going terribly, with a bunch of investors trying to go behind his back and steal some of his money. It had been a hassle, but thankfully all had been taken care of. He needed something to distract him from the stress.

“Oh, tell me about it,” you groaned, rolling your eyes. “The restaurant today was hellish. It was as if Satan had spawned a hundred different little devil women to make my day worse.” You told him about all the “Karens” that had bothered you, insisting you’d gotten their order wrong, when they were simply too drunk to function (even though it was around midday), complaining about how weird their food tasted, or even going as far as telling you they did not like the decoration. It made your blood boil, but a girl needed to pay her bills, so you sucked it up.

Bruce chuckled at your descriptions of the acts you’d like to perform to those women – none of them very family friendly – and found it rather cute when you decided to deal with your frustrations by scooping a large spoonful of your lemon flavoured ice-cream. You moaned in delight once the soft food melted on your tongue and smiled.

“Nathan would just freak out if he tried these,” you said, “He’s a sucker for good ice-cream.”

Bruce’s brow quirked quizzically. Nathan? The name sounded oddly familiar coming from your lips, but he couldn’t quite tell why. You seemed to notice his expression because you were quick to continue.

“My boyfriend. I’ve mentioned him before, remember? I think I mentioned at the party too.” You hummed and ate another spoonful of ice-cream, groaning once again. “This is good. Really good. Wow.”

“Ah. Yes, your boyfriend.” Bruce nodded.  He couldn’t say he wasn’t disappointed. Sure, he’d only known you for two weeks, and you had told him about Nathan early on (he simply decided to ignore that) but he’d be lying if he said the thought of more than just a friendship hadn’t crossed his mind. It was only natural, and he considered himself to be an efficient man, who went for what he wanted – well, almost. Batman had made that a tad impossible, but Bruce was still figuring it out.

“Mhm!” You exclaimed excitedly. “Nathan and I have been dating for a few years. We’re actually close to four!” You quickly told him how you and Nathan had met, something you surprisingly had not done before. You’d been accompanying a friend of yours to the ER after someone had spilled a pan of burning hot oil on top of her. The Emergency Room Doctor, Nathan Smith, had taken care of her very quickly, but it was on you he had his eyes during the entire appointment. After the both of you had thanked him, and your friend had a bandaged arm, he’d stopped you in your tracks and politely asked if you would give him your number. You couldn’t lie to yourself – he was handsome, with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes, and a kind smile, and you swore he could’ve been a model if he wanted to. So, you had said yes.

“And the rest was history,” you finished. “We’ve been together ever since.”

Bruce hummed and busied himself with taking another spoonful of mint ice cream to his lips. “I see,” he hummed. “Well, I hope everything goes well with your relationship. He sounds nice.”

“He really is. I love him.” There were stars in your eyes, and while part of Bruce scowled, unhappy with this man he had never met before, another wanted to smile, because you did seem like a lovely girl, and he did want to see you happy.

After that day, you and Bruce became close friends.

He got to know you. You worked a job at a two Michelin star restaurant, waiting tables. That’s how you’d heard of the charity gala gig – word spread around that a rich couple was looking to hire some servers, and you’d applied in the hopes of making a few extra bucks.

He learned that you were a very resilient person, not at all like the way you’d appeared that day at the gala. You’d told him you were simply having a terrible day, with a few costumers yelling in your face during your regular shift. Charles Carnegie doing the same thing at night was the straw that broke the camel’s back and seemed to break you.

He got to know all your hobbies, and the things you liked to do for fun. Learned all your favourite books, the movies you liked to watch when you were down, the snacks you liked to munch on whenever your day went sour. He learned what made you tick, and the things that inspired you. You told him about your family – the relatives you loved, those you were close with, and the ones that simply did not deserve to be in your life anymore.

Every time you disclosed some piece of information about your life, Bruce drank it all up. He wanted to know you, all of you. He listened whenever you complained to him about work, whenever you texted him with any sort of happy news, or when you called him late at night because you felt lonely. It had been so long since Bruce had someone to call his friend, and he loved every bit of it. He knew he wasn’t the first person you came to whenever you wanted to talk. Part of him wished he was your first choice, but he saw the look in your eyes whenever you mentioned Nathan.

And speaking of, he even got to meet said Nathan.

A few weeks after your second meeting, the one where you’d gone out for ice-cream, Bruce decided to surprise you by having a meal at the restaurant you worked at. He asked for a table, and specifically asked for you as his server. The owner was clearly surprised; not only did he not expect Bruce Wayne of all people to have dinner at his restaurant, but he also wasn't expecting him to ask for a specific server. Especially one that seemed as insignificant as you. Bruce assured him it was vital that he had you as his server, and the man quickly relented, happy to tend to the billionaire’s every need.

“Hi, welcome to La Lune d'Argent. My name is – “ Before you could continue, you looked up and a grin spread across your face. “Bruce! What are you doing here?”

“Having dinner. What does it look like?” He replied with a smile.

“You could've told me you were coming! I’d have gotten you the best table.”

“This one is just fine, I promise. And letting you know in advance would sort of ruin the purpose of a surprise, don't you think?”

“You wanted to surprise me?” Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you shook your head, trying to get rid of it. Not only did you have a boyfriend, but you were also at your workplace and needed to remain professional. “Thank you. That’s very nice.”

Bruce smiled once again, before opening the menu in front of him and eyeing it.

“What do you recommend?” He asked.

“Well, the Seared Scallops with Truffle Risotto are our specialty. The Lobster Thermidor is also really good, and so are the Stuffed Shrimp with Crabmeat. But if you’re not in the mood for fish, then I recommend the Chateaubriand and the Filet Mignon. The Tournedos Rossini is a costumer favourite, but I’ve tried it and don’t think it’s all that.”

Bruce nodded, before going over the wine section.

“And the wine?”

“It depends. If you pick any of the fish dishes, then you should go with the Chardonnay or the Prosecco. If you go for the meat, then you should most likely enjoy a glass of Cabernet or Merlot. There’s plenty more, but I’m I wouldn’t be of any help with those. I’m terrible when it comes to wine.” You recited, the words spilling naturally from your lips – you’d done this a thousand times.

“That’s okay. Well then, how about I have the Foie Gras Terrine and the Truffle Risotto Croquettes as appetisers, and for the main dish, I’d like the Chateaubriand if possible. I’d also like a side of salad. As for the wine, I trust the owner’s good judgment. Cabernet it is.” He waited until you were done writing everything down and handed you the menu.

“Anything else?” You asked, taking it, and tucking it under your arm.

“Is your company too much to ask for?” He offered you a smile.

“Some of us have to actually work, Mr. Wayne,” you joked and stuck your tongue out playfully, “I’ll have your appetisers here in a minute.”

Dinner went well. The food was stellar (there was after all a reason the restaurant had two Michelin stars), the wine lived up to the expectations, and your company – or rather, the small moments you managed to spare him – warmed his heart. You offered him small quips about your work, told him about the usual costumers that sat on their usual tables and had their usual meals, gossiped about those you didn't like. It felt nice, to have a good time at work. You didn't completely hate your job, no, and some days were definitely fun thanks to your coworkers or any sort of shenanigans that happened during your shifts, but it could get boring and lonely and upsetting. Bruce being there was a nice change, and a welcome one.

“When does your shift end?” He asked, after he’d eaten a nice slice of cheesecake for dessert.

“In about half an hour, I believe. I have an early night today.”

“I’ll wait for you then.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to, Bruce – “

“Nonsense. Do you have a ride home?”

“I’ll just take the train.”

“I'll give you a ride then.”

“Bruce, that’s seriously not necessary – “

You were interrupted by the voice of your boss, calling out your name in an accusatory tone. “Do I pay you to sit around and talk to costumers?”

You sighed and nodded towards Bruce.

“Thank you. A ride home would be nice.”

He waited until you were done, paid for his meal and left you a nice tip, and then waited outside. You took a few minutes, but soon enough you were walking towards him, wrapped around in a comfortable looking jacket.

“You ready to go?” you asked before a voice called out.

“Babe?”

You turned around, and your eyes widened before softening at the sight before them. “Nate!” You smiled, making your way to him, and hugging him tightly. Nate hugged you back just as tight, but his eyes did not leave the tall man that had been by your side.

“Who is this?” He asked, discontent clear in his voice.

“Oh!” You turned to face Bruce, arm linked with Nathan’s. “This is Bruce! I told you about him, remember? He’s my friend.”

“You did tell me about your friend. You did not mention your friend was the Bruce Wayne.”

“Well, that’s because he’s not the Bruce Wayne to me. He’s just Bruce.” You smiled, and Nathan didn't seem too pleased once Bruce extended his hand.

“Bruce Wayne.” He spoke. Nathan shook his hand, steel-like eyes taking the taller man in, his expensive clothes and pulled-together appearance.

“Nathan Smith. So, you’re my girl’s friend, is that right?” He asked, pulling you closer by the waist. It wasn't hard to miss the jealous look in his face, and Bruce decided to ease the guy’s mind a bit, not wanting to get into any trouble. And not wanting to get you into any trouble.

“Yes, that’s right. I’ve heard a lot about you, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Yeah? That’s funny because she’s barely said a word about you.” Nathan replied, offering Bruce a tight-lipped smile, and turning to you. “I came here to surprise you. Heard you were getting an early night, wanted to give you a lift home. Maybe we can make up for lost time? I miss you.” It did not take an idiot to see what the hell he was getting at, and it made your duck your head slightly, clearly embarrassed.

“That’s very kind of you, thank you. I loved the surprise.” You faced Bruce once again and offered him an apologetic smile. “Nate will take me home, if that’s fine by you.”

“Fine by him? What's this got to do with him?” Your boyfriend asked, chuckling dryly, and giving you a not so amused look.

“Bruce had offered to take me home. It was kind of him, so I said yes.”

“Yes, yes, very kind.” Nathan turned to Bruce too. “As you can see, your help is no longer needed. I’ll be taking my girlfriend home now.” He said the words with a sneer, happy to claim you as his.

“Yes, well. Thank you for taking care of her.”

“Oh, I do.”

You looked awkwardly in between both men and cleared your throat moving away from your boyfriend to envelop Bruce in a hug.

“Thank you for the surprise. It was really nice. And thanks for the offer too. The ride back home one. I’ll see you some other day?”

“Absolutely,” He replied and turned to leave.

As he walked away, he could hear Nathan’s voice and how accusatory it sounded.

“Surprise? What was that all about? Why was that guy visiting you at work?”

“He’s a friend, Nate. He just wanted to stop by.”

“Oh yeah? And what business does he have just stopping by? He’s not your boyfriend. I am.”

“He’s just a friend, Nate. I promise. Let's just go home, please? I miss you.”

Bruce was inside his car before he could properly make out whatever Nathan had replied to you, but he could tell it was nothing good.

The next time Bruce saw you, you were sitting by yourself at a coffee shop, having an iced drink and reading a book. He thought about approaching you but decided against it. You looked peaceful, and he didn't want to upset you should you not want to see him after the whole ordeal with your boyfriend went down.

But he was pleasantly surprised when he heard your voice call his name, and your hand beckoning him to come closer.

“Hey! I had no idea you came to this place. Wanna sit next to me?” You asked, moving your bag out of the chair in front of you, making space for him,

“Sometimes, on my lunch break. I take it today is your day off?”

“Mhm! Got today all to myself. I was supposed to spend it with Nathan, but we kind of fought so I decided to get some fresh air myself. You know, just to clear my head.” You said the words “kind of fought” as if they meant nothing, as if fighting with your boyfriend was a daily occurrence. He didn't like that.

“I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?” Bruce sat down in front of you, placing his own coffee on the table.

“Nah, not really. That’s just who Nate is. He gets upset sometimes, and I have to put some space in between us. No big deal. What about you? What are you up to?”

“Well, like I mentioned, this was supposed to be my lunch break, but I took the afternoon off. Alfred – my butler – is supposed to come pick me up later. It’s the anniversary of my parents’ marriage. I want to visit their graves.”

Your eyes softened and you placed a hand on top of his. Your palm felt warm on top of his, and Bruce immediately turned his hand so he could slot his fingers in between yours.

“I’m sorry.” Was all you said. After all, what more could you? Everyone knew Bruce Wayne’s story, but you did not want to seem presumptuous and assume you knew all about him. “I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”

“Me too,” Bruce replied quietly, his voice thick with emotion, the way it usually was whenever he mentioned his parents. He didn't speak about them to many people, but let his facade slip completely for those he did trust enough.

“Is it okay if I come with?” You asked, and immediately regretted it. Why would you ask such a thing? Why would he even allow you to attend such a private thing with him? It was dumb, really. Before you could take your words back though, he replied, eyebrow quirked.

“Really?”

You shrugged sheepishly.

“Sure. It sounds tough, and I don’t want you to suffer all by yourself. You tend to do that.”

It was true. Bruce often hid his feelings, his emotions, shielding them from everyone. It hadn’t been that long since you two had started talking – maybe one or two months – but you could already tell he was very selective with the people he trusted. And how could he not be? You wanted to be someone he could trust, though. Wanted to be someone he could rely on, help him shoulder all his burdens.

Bruce thought it over for a bit. It would be nice to have some company. Visiting his parents’ grave was a very personal and intimate thing, yes, but he considered you a friend, and he’d be lying if he said he didn't want your company. He was sure both his father and his mother would've liked you, would've enjoyed your sense of humour and appreciated his kindness. So why not?

“I would appreciate that,” he said, and you smiled. “Won't it be a problem with Nathan?”

“Don't worry about him. He’s not the boss of me, and I'm not doing anything wrong.”

That’s how you found yourself, standing in front of the graves of Thomas and Martha Wayne, the beautiful Wayne Manor just ahead.

“I’m sure they loved each other very much,” you said, eyes not leaving the carved stones in front of you.

“They did.” Bruce agreed with a nod. “My father would bring my mother flowers nearly every day. She used to joke about having her own private flower shop thanks to him. He never stopped though. He’d bring her different flowers according to her mood. That’s just how he was. Always looking out for her. He could tell whenever she was sad, or happy, or worried.”

“What an amazing husband,” you smiled, picturing the late Thomas Wayne reading his wife and choosing flowers accordingly.

“And my mother was just as amazing as him. She could tell when he had had a bad day at the hospital. I never could – she used to tell me she could sense it in the first few steps he took whenever he arrived home. Whenever he felt down, she’d help Alfred make his favourite meal. He didn't have to ask, she simply did it out of the goodness of her heart, and all her love for him.”

“It must've been incredible to be surrounded by such love. You were very lucky, Bruce. And I'm sure your parents loved you just as much as they loved each other, if not even more.”

You smiled up at him and he offered you a small smile in return. You were right. He had been lucky to have experienced such love and affection at a young age. It made him realise the kind of relationship he wanted to be with and taught him the kind of partner he should be.

He was just about to speak when your phone started chiming.

“Sorry – forgot to mute it,” you mumbled, turning the sound off. It didn't do anything to quiet it down though, since it just kept vibrating in your pocket. You huffed and turned it on, brows furrowing in confusion, and then relaxing.

“It’s Nate,” you said, not looking up from the screen, “He’s apologising for our fight. Says he was in a very bad emotional state. Poor thing… He’s very self-conscious, you know. Keeps telling me he’s too lucky to have me, that I could have anyone in the world, but I settled for him. He always thinks he’s not good enough for me, that I'll leave him for someone else” You chuckled dryly, before continuing, “He couldn't be farther from the truth, though. I’m the lucky one.” You looked up and Bruce and pointed to the phone in your hand. “I should probably go. Nate wants to apologise in person, and I should probably talk to him.”

Bruce nodded and pointed to the limo standing near the street.

“Alfred will take you home.”

“Thanks.” You smiled up and him and moved forward to hug him. Bruce softened immediately. You slotted perfectly against him, and he felt like a piece of a puzzle that had just found its matching half. Unfortunately, you pulled away, taking all the warmth with you.

“I’ll see you some other time,” you said, walking away.

Once you were out of his view, he turned to his parents.

Perhaps someday he’d be able to love you like they loved each other.

Bruce was working when he received a text from you. It had been a few days since you’d visited his parents’ grave with him, and you hadn't spoken face-to-face since. You’d been texting non-stop though, telling each other about your day, sending pictures of your respective meals, or just sharing funny anecdotes or pictures you saw online that reminded you of each other. Bruce clicked on the notification with your name.

Look at this!

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Clicking on the picture, he could see your radiant face, partially hidden by a huge bouquet of roses. They did nothing to steal the shine from you though, and Bruce cringed at how they paled in comparison to your beauty. He was quick to shoot back a reply,

They look pretty. Secret admirer?

You were even quicker to reply.

They’re from Nate, as an apology! Isn't he the sweetest? He’s been spoiling me rotten. I don't think I deserve it.

Bruce’s stomach twisted at the mention of your boyfriend. His fingers flew across the screen as he typed.

You deserve that, and much more.

You replied with a smiley face, and that was the end of your conversation for the day.

It was hard to get back to work after that, his thoughts plagued with you. Your nice smile, your kind words, the way you fit perfectly against the shape of his body and how tightly you’d hugged him back on the Manor grounds. He knew it was wrong to want you - you were dating someone else, and it’s not like you knew each other for a long time, but he couldn't help it.

Bruce took a deep breath, and gulped down an entire glass of water, before chastising himself and focusing on whatever task he had left to complete.

It didn't work, and Lucius found him staring at the screen of his phone for a good five minutes, before deciding his boss probably deserved a break from his somewhat incessant teasing.

After that, you met up with Bruce a few more times.

You’d meet up sometimes for lunch or a late afternoon snack, and you’d even had breakfast together once. You chalk it up to friendly outings, and so does Bruce (although he’s sadder than you to admit that). Unfortunately, these meetings were not filled with chatter about your lives, motivations, and dreams for the future. Instead, you worried your pretty little head off thinking about Nathan, who didn’t text you for hours, seemingly pushing away from you, only to give you mixed signals the next day and apologising for his behaviour. Bruce could see how draining it was, could see how you always glanced at your phone whenever the two of you were together, and how you seemed to walk on eggshells whenever Nathan called you.

Things would get harder for the two of you at night – Bruce was out patrolling the city as Batman, something he had not and would never tell you – and you sometimes you got lonely. Bruce simply told you he was busy, and you in good faith, believed him. After all, he was a busy man, running a busy company, leading a busy life. You were lucky enough he managed to spend some time with you during the week.

Bruce had become your closest friend. You loved hanging out with him. It was like he got you. He was a great listener, always providing you with great insight whenever you asked for it, or simply being a shoulder to cry on if you wanted to. He would give you solid advice, support you on (nearly) every decision and all of your hobbies, encouraging you to seek out new experiences and the things you’ve always wanted to do but were never brave enough to.

One day, the two of you were meeting up for coffee. You had your legs tucked under yourself, grabbing a warm mug with both of your hands. You loved this café; loved the ambient, the fluffy pillows and couches, the vast choice of drinks. It was your own special little corner, and you were happy to bring Bruce along.

You two were in a middle of a conversation about your favourite books, before your phone buzzed. You decided to ignore it, but it just buzzed again. And again. And again. A bunch of texts messages started coming through, and as you picked up your phone, it started ringing.

“It’s Nate,” you mumbled, accepting the call, and mouthing a small “sorry” to Bruce, who nodded.

“Hey honey,” you said. Bruce could make out your boyfriend’s voice from the other side of the line, and he could tell he wasn’t pleased.

“Where the hell are you!?” he heard Nathan say, and you involuntarily flinched in your seat, frowning.

“I’m at a café. I told you this, didn’t I?” you asked.

“Yeah, well, Ricky just texted me saying he saw you sitting with some other guy. What the fuck is going on?”

“Another guy?” you mumbled, “Nate, I’m with Bruce. We’re out for coffee, that’s all.”

Bruce heard Nathan scoff, and his fists curled on his lap. He was just glad you couldn’t see it.

“Ah, of course. Fucking Bruce. It’s always him, isn’t it?”

This seemed to get you riled up.

“I asked you if you wanted to come with me, and you told me no. You said you had better things to do and hated this place,” you shook your head, brows furrowing in anger. “So, I invited a friend. I’m allowed to have other friends, you know.”

“Yeah, sure. And it had to be a guy? You had to invite a guy out for coffee? Just the two of you?”

You curled into yourself and away from Bruce, lowering your voice.

“Nate, if you cancel on me, I’m going to invite other people. It’s just Bruce.”

“That guy’s trying to get into your fucking pants, and you know it, and you keep encouraging him. How does that make me feel, huh? Knowing you’re out there with some other douche who wants to jump your bones?” Bruce wanted nothing more than to seek out the asshole you were dating and beating him to a pulp. How he even dared to speak to you like that was beyond him, but he decided to say nothing. At least not yet.

“Nate, I don’t like it when you talk to me like this. He’s just a friend, I told you, you have no reason to be jealous – “

“Yeah sure. Don’t bother coming home.”

And he hung up.

Bruce eyed you, the way your pretty eyes welled up with tears and how you quickly wiped them away, throwing your phone and belongings to the purse sitting next to you.

“I – I’m sorry, Bruce, I – I need to go. I have to sort this out with him.” You mumbled, standing up. Bruce, however, was quicker, and stood in front of you, blocking your path.

He furrowed his brows and spoke in a low voice as not to startle you.

“He shouldn’t talk to you like this.”

“He’s right. I know he is – I know he’s got low-self-esteem issues, he’s just worried is all. He’s afraid to lose me, I know he is.” You said these words like a mantra, and Bruce wondered just how long you’d been repeating them to yourself. It made his heart ache. He reached out to wipe your tears, but you took a step back, shaking your head.

“I’m sorry for cutting our meeting short, Bruce,” you mumbled. “I’ll see you later.”

And you were out of his sight.

“Hang out?” Bruce asked, balancing his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he shaved.

“Yeah!” he could hear your excited voice on the other side, and it made him smile. “It’ll be just me and Nate and some more friends. I know how you are with strangers, so you don’t have to come if you don’t want to, but I thought it’d be nice if you were out of your house for once. You spend all those nights working, you’ve gotta learn to have fun!”

It was partially true. He did spend all these nights working. Just not a very conventional job. In fact, he’d been spending the last few weeks looking into Nathan Smith. His past, his present, and making assumptions on his future. He had all eyes on this douche.

“Bruce? Are you there?” you called, “Look, I’m sorry. I know you’re not a fan of other people – “

“I’ll be there.” He said curtly, blade gliding against his smooth skin. “Just text me the details and I’ll meet you there.”

“Really?” you let out a squeal of excitement and Bruce nearly cut himself with the sound. He realised then just how much he wanted you to be like that all the time. Happy. Excited.

“Really.”

“Okay – okay! I’ll let you know where and when! I can’t wait to see you again! I have to go now though, my shift’s about to start. See you soon, yes?” You hung up and Bruce chuckled to himself. He couldn’t wait to see you either. He wasn’t, although, very eager to see Nathan. But for your sake, he’d be on his best behaviour.

You met a few days after the phone call, at a local bar.

It was bustling with people and energy. Loud music was being played on speakers, the whole place smelled of cheap beer, and the people’s noise was deafening. Still, he overlooked all of that just for the sheer pleasure of hanging out with you.

“Bruce!” You called out, getting up from your spot near the counter and hurrying to meet him halfway. You hugged him tightly and he once again felt like you were meant to be in his arms forever. When you pulled away, he smiled. “You made it!” You were wearing an off-the-shoulder top and a pair of shorts decorated with small lace at the bottom. But Bruce couldn’t care less about what you were wearing – you always looked radiant.

“Of course I did.”

“Here, come meet my friends!”

You dragged him to a small group of people and introduced him to everyone. He was expecting more and was glad to find it was only you plus 4 others. Nathan was still on his way, you told him.

All of you kept light conversation for a while. Bruce did not really try to keep up with your friends’ conversations. One of them kept rubbing herself all up against him, giggling and obviously trying to get herself into his good graces. She was clearly only interested in his money, and Bruce had to excuse himself a few times just to get away.

After a few minutes, your head turned and you smiled, standing up to greet someone.

Nate.

“Hey honey!” You smiled, lifting your head to kiss him on the lips. Nathan quickly scanned the table, and once his eyes fell on Bruce, he scowled, one hand coming down to grip your waist, and the other to give you a light squeeze on your ass cheek (which made Bruce cringe and want to punch this jerk to next Sunday).

“Hello. Didn’t know we’d be having so much company,” the doctor sneered, eyes lingering on the Wayne billionaire.

“Well, if you don’t like me meeting up with friends on my own, I thought we could all meet up. Isn’t it a nice solution?” you smiled, but Nate didn’t seem to care about it. How dare he, Bruce thought. If you were his, he would never overlook your smile. Never. But she’s not yours, a tiny voice whispered inside his head.

Nate then turned to you, eyeing you up and down. His eyes lingered on your exposed collarbone and shoulders, and on the shorts that adorned your pretty legs. He sneered.

“And what the fuck is this?” he asked with a scoff.

“Hm?”

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

“Oh! These are new!” you spun in your place, showing off your outfit. “Do you like them? I thought the lace details were super cute – “

“So you’re wearing this out?” Nate crossed his arms, visibly upset. “Seriously? Don’t you think it’s a bit too revealing?”

It wasn’t, really. The top, even if it was off-the-shoulder, did not expose your cleavage too shockingly. The shorts weren’t too short either, covering just the right amount of skin. And even if the clothes were too short (which they weren’t), Bruce thought Nathan should just mind his fucking business.

“You think so?” your smile was quickly replaced by a pout, and you looked down at your clothes self-consciously.

“Yes, I fucking think so. I don’t understand why you feel the need to dress like that, show that much skin. People might get the wrong idea.”

“What wrong idea? Nate, they’re just clothes. There’s nothing wrong with them.”

The atmosphere had become tense. Your friends were all giving each other knowing looks but kept to themselves. Bruce didn’t have the heart to simply stand there and watch though. He put an arm in between you and Nathan and spoke calmly.

“Look, I think she should be allowed to wear whatever she wants. It’s not like she’s naked – “

“Stay the hell out of this, rich guy. I couldn’t care less what you think, this is not your relationship, and she is my girlfriend.”

Bruce looked at you, but you seemed to be avoiding his gaze, eyes fixated on Nathan.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think they were that revealing when I tried them on. I just liked how they looked on me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m fucking embarrassed to be seen with you when you dress like that. Dressed like a common whore.”

That was enough for Bruce. He stepped forward, ready to send his fist flying across this jerk’s face, but your smaller hand wrapped itself around his arm.

“Bruce, please,” you pleaded, looking up at him with wide eyes. “It’s okay. He’s right. I am showing too much skin. I should dress more modestly.”

“He’s being a jerk,” Bruce muttered, eyes urging you to let him go. “I’m not letting him speak to you like that.”

“Please.” You sounded so meek, so small. It tugged at Bruce’s heartstrings, and he immediately lowered his arm. He’d do anything for you, really.

“Fine.”

“Yeah, that’s better.” Nathan scoffed, before grabbing you by the arm and pulling you close. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Without sparing him a second glance, you were out of the bar.

“I’m telling you, Alfred, that guy is the worst. I don’t understand how she’s still with him, he treats her like shit,” Bruce muttered to himself as he paced back and forth in his bedroom.

“Master Wayne, although I admire your compassion, I cannot help but wonder if you are sticking your nose in someone else’s business.” Alfred replied. He’d been watching Bruce walk holes into the floor, and although he wanted to help, the older man knew there was really nothing he could do.

“I know. I know I am but – she deserves better. She does, she deserves someone who’ll treat her right, who won’t talk to her that way, who will respect her and adore her – “

“Someone like you, I presume.”

“Yes. Exactly.”

Bruce sighed and sat on his bed, defeated.

“Master Wayne, have you considered telling this girl the feelings you’re harbouring for her?” Alfred asked, moving closer to the bed.

“I can’t. She loves him Alfred, she… she loves him.” He muttered again.

The butler gave Bruce a sympathetic smile, before walking away.

You loved Nathan. You didn’t love him.

So why did it all feel so terribly wrong?

You walked inside Wayne Manor for the first time a few weeks later.

It was raining – pouring, even – and you’d desperately knocked on its big doors. Alfred opened them for you, and recognised you instantly, having stolen glances at Bruce’s phone whenever he looked at pictures of you.

“Hi – Hi, I’m sorry for the intrusion,” you quickly introduced yourself, tears running down your face. “Is – is Bruce here?”

Alfred gently guided you to the living room, where he told you to wait. You stood there awkwardly, picking at your fingers, and looking around, taking in the beauty of Bruce’s family home.

When Alfred returned, he brought with him a few towels, and Bruce Wayne himself. The latter was just about to leave for patrol, but upon hearing from Alfred that you were standing on his doorway, drenched from head to toe and crying, he decided to ditch his nightly duties.

“Hey,” he said, hurrying towards you. It was all it took – you collapsed in his arms, tears running down your face. Bruce held you tightly and you cried, burrowing your face in his chest. Alfred simply placed the towels on top of one of the couches, and took his leave, silently going upstairs to get a robe for you. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Once you managed to stop crying, you looked up at him and sniffled, shaking your head.

“I’m so sorry – you’re all wet because of me now,” you told him.

Bruce shook his head and moved to hand you a towel.

“It’s okay. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

You sighed and used the towel to dry your hair, wrapping the other one around your shoulders.

“It… it was Nathan.”

Bruce looked at you, eyes narrowing.

“What did he do?”

“Nothing! I mean – we just fought, that’s all. But it was a really nasty fight.” You said and burst into tears again. “He – he kept saying all I did was walk around and cheat on him! He said I didn’t truly love him, that I was selfish and only thought of myself. It – it’s not true! I love him Bruce, I really do!” You buried your face on your hands, and Bruce moved to sit by your side.

Bruce held you tightly in his arms, hand stroking your back and your head. You melted in his hold, breath evening out and tears eventually subsiding.

"I just... I don't know what to do, Bruce..." You mumbled against his chest. "I really do love him, but he said all of those mean things..."

Bruce's lips pressed into a thin line as he navigated the best way to go about this conversation.

"Nathan..." He mumbled, hands running through your hair. "Does he speak to you like this a lot?"

You sniffled, stilling in his arms.

"We fight... Lately we've been fighting a lot, but... I know he loves me... He doesn't mean it. He's been under so much stress, things at the hospital are getting chaotic and I've been stressing him out..."

Bruce shook his head, his hold unconsciously tightening around you. So he took his stress out on you? Jerk.

"That's not okay. He can't speak to you like this, he doesn't have the right to." Bruce pulled away to look you in the eyes and you sniffled as his big hands wiped your tears.

"He doesn't mean any harm, you know... He's under a lot of pressure from his superiors..."

He sighed once again, and then watched from the corner of his eyes as Alfred carried in his hand a tray of warm drinks and a fluffy robe.

"Look," he said, tilting your chin to meet his gaze. "How about you change into something more comfortable, and we'll talk about it over a drink?"

You smiled and nodded, getting up and thanking Alfred, grabbing the robe so you could go change.

Once you came back, you told Bruce you did not want to talk about such sad topics any further, and simply wanted to distract yourself. Bruce was happy to oblige.

You settled in the couch side by side with a blanket covering your laps. He let you pick a movie, and you sat side by side, poking fun at whatever it was that was playing on the TV, sipping on warm beverages, and talking.

“So you’re telling me you don’t know how to make a cup of tea?” You asked, leaning back to look at Bruce with a serious expression.

“Look, I was a failure and I decided it was better not to learn instead of having Alfred annoy me about it. He’s very serious about his tea. You should hear him yell at me.”

You chuckled and involuntarily placed your legs over Bruce’s lap under the blankets. He was quick to lay his hands on top of them, drawing patterns absentmindedly.

“You’re impossible,” you chuckled.

“Oh, so you’re all high and mighty and capable of cooking anything and everything?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Even if I wasn't very good, I'm sure I'd be able to cook more than you. I had to, you know. Living on my own and all,” you shrugged, “Some people don’t have butlers doing everything for them.”

Bruce hummed. You were right. It was one of the things he admired the most about you. How unafraid you were to tell him exactly what you think, and how resilient you were, how strong-willed and stubborn. Bruce was sure he’d never met a woman as strong as you in his entire life.

“Alright, pay up.” You extended your hand.

Now you were sitting a few inches apart, a Monopoly board on the couch in front of you.

“You’re cheating,” he huffed, counting his bills.

“No, you’re simply not very good. Aren't you like, supposed to be a god at this or something? This is your whole life.” You popped a popcorn inside your mouth and smiled.

“Usually, lives aren't dictated by the throw of a dice,” he said, handing you two bills. “You're ruining me here. I’m gonna go bankrupt.”

“Then learn how to play better.” You shrugged and rolled your dice again, moving your piece accordingly. Bruce smiled. He could get used to this, spending time with you, cuddled up in his couch. That's where you were meant to be, next to him, in his arms, in his blankets. You were meant to be in his home, brightening up the place with something as small as a smile, in his life, brightening his whole existence with just a tilt of your head. It was at this moment that Bruce realised that his feelings for you ran way deeper than just a simple friendship. After all, friends didn't wish to spend eternity together. Friends didn't want to lick the popcorn salt off each other’s lips, friends didn't want to hold each other close and whisper sweet nothings in their ear.

As the night went on, so did the activities. When you were done with board games, you switched to card games (getting your ass kicked by Bruce, who was far too good at Poker for your own liking). You changed movies about three times, simply not satisfied with the choices you’d picked earlier – not that Bruce minded. You’d made a game out of changing movies every time the characters gave you second hand embarrassment and had plenty of fun yelling at the protagonists who slipped and stuttered and acted like bozos.

“Oh, come on,” you cringed, body twitching involuntarily. “Why is she singing Fight Song on top of a table? Do directors think this is how people behave?”

“You stood on top of my couch and yelled. I think that’s close to what’s happening on the TV,” The man next to you eyed you with amusement as you scoffed and pointed an accusatory finger at him.

“That’s different, I won Monopoly,” you said nonchalantly, “Everyone knows you’re entitled to do whatever you want once you win Monopoly.” You grabbed a pillow and threw it in his direction, but you should've known better, because Bruce simply picked it mid-air and raised it in front of his head, to hit you back. However, at the sudden movement, your eyes widened, and you quickly flinched away from him, panic spreading all over your face.

Bruce let go of the pillow, heart breaking at the sight before him. What the fuck had just happened? Did you flinch away from him?

“I – “ You seemed to notice his worry and were quick to shake your head, laughing weakly. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you okay?” He asked, torn between reaching out and staying in place. He didn't want to scare you even more than he already had.

“Yes! Yes, I am. I’m sorry, I wasn't expecting you to do that. Was just trying to get away from the pillow.”

“You scrambled away from me.”

“Well, yes, you were going to hit me with a pillow, weren't you, Bruce?”

“I would never hurt you. You know that,” he whispered, and you looked away, still trying to pretend everything was fine.

“Well, I didn't want a pillow on my face. Alright? It’s nothing, I promise.”

He wasn't convinced in the least, and Bruce knew what it usually meant. His mind went back to Nathan, to the way he had treated you at the bar, to his behaviour towards you whenever you and Bruce were out for ice-cream or coffee. The gears were turning in his head, and you took notice of that, moving forward and holding his hands.

“Hey,” you smiled, although it didn't reach your eyes, “It’s fine. I promise. Everything is okay.”

He didn't believe it. Didn't buy it. But he had to earn your trust if he wanted to do something about it, and scaring you away wasn't an option.

He attempted to smile back, and nodded, muttering a small “Alright.”

You settled back next to him, and he could feel the way your body had tensed up as soon as your arms had brushed together. He needed to calm you down. So, he spoke.

About his life, about his childhood. He told you about all the times his father would let him tag along whenever he went to work at the hospital, how fascinated he was with his occupation. Saving lives. How great was that. He told you how much his father’s work had inspired him. He explained to you the intricate games he’d play in his gardens, pretending to be a detective who was investigating every sort of crimes. He wanted to save lives, just like his father did.

“You do, you know,” you mumbled, looking up from under his chin to get a good look at his beautiful face. “Even if you’re not a doctor, you still save lives. You make people’s lives better. All your philanthropy and charity are helping Gotham. You’re not doing this in vain.”

He smiled. If only you knew how much his charity and philanthropy extended.

You replied with stories of your own. The things you liked to do while growing up, the games you’d make up in your room, thinking of faraway lands with castles and elves and fantasies. You’d be a police officer one day, and a pirate the next. You told him about your childhood home, your high school, your college major. You showed him pictures of your roommates and the fun activities you did together.

It was an exchange. You’d tell him about yourself, and he would open up to you in return. The TV was still on, and both of you were looking at it, but none was paying attention. Your conversation was much more important.

Bruce told you about his childhood, how lonely he would feel sometimes. He told you sometimes he would isolate himself, the grief of having lost his parents far too much to bear. It made your heart ache and you found yourself leaning closer, wishing to take all of his pain away.

"You don't have to suffer all on your own now, though," you said, looking up to meet his chocolate brown eyes. "I'm here now. You can count on me to help you with whatever. You can trust me, Bruce." Your hand was suddenly on his cheek, palm hot and caring, and Bruce instantly leaned into it, sure that this was where he was meant to be – in your arms, staring into your eyes, baring his soul open. The air crackled in between you – it was as if the world had shifted and finally landed in place. It felt right. Everything felt right, and your eyes briefly drifted towards his lips.

He was just about to say something when a few loud knocks could be heard on the door. Your head whipped around in panic, the sound clearly startling you (something Bruce kept in mind).

"Alfred, could you please get that?" He asked, arm wrapping itself around you in an unconsciously protective move. You relaxed in his hold just as quickly as you’d stiffened, and his heart leaped. Did you feel safe with him?

The door slid open, revealing behind it a massive bouquet of red roses. The roses moved and Bruce quickly spotted the figure who was holding them.

"Nate?" You whispered, untangling yourself from Bruce's hold and taking tentative steps towards the door. Shit.

"Babe – hey," Nathan replied, sighing with relief once he spotted you. "I'm so sorry, I – I'm such an idiot. I'm the worst."

You eyed him sceptically, something like doubt shining in your eyes.

"I shouldn't have said any of those things. The hospital has been so busy, my bosses have been giving me shit every day, and I took it out on you. I'm so sorry, will you please forgive me?"

You hugged your arms, shielding yourself. You looked back at Bruce, who was watching the situation, lips a thin line and eyes cloudy.

"I didn't like the way you spoke to me... You really hurt, Nate, did you mean all of those things?"

"No! No – fuck no, I didn't. I was an idiot. I am an idiot. Please, let me make it up to you. I don't deserve you, but if you forgive me, I'll spend the rest of my days trying to prove to you I am worthy of your love. I'm so sorry. I'll be better. I promise. Babe, you make me better."

Bruce wasn't fazed by this speech. He didn't buy a single word of what Nathan had just told you, and once again, he would not keep it to himself. This man was manipulating you, preying on your emotions and your love for him, probably even going as far as laying his hands on you, and you deserved better.

"Perhaps you should've thought of those things before you treated her like shit." He said coldly, standing up and walking towards you. You turned away from him, which had Bruce's heart clench. Why were you turning from him?

But he didn't need to give it much more thought – you were already falling for Nathan's narrative.

"You – " Nathan's grip tightened. Bruce saw the way it tightened and saw your eyes land on his fist as well. This caused him to loosen it, and give a small, dry chuckle. "Bruce. Thank you so much for taking care of her. Truly. I'm so thankful you took care of my girl when she wasn't feeling well."

You raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes, babe, really. He's your friend, and I'm willing to get along with your friends. I'd do anything for you, you know it. Don't you?" He stuck out his hands, presenting to you the bouquet of roses in one hand, and a box of chocolates in the other. It was only now that Bruce (and apparently, you as well) realised that both items, as well as the person who was carrying them, were dripping wet.

"You came all the way out here in the rain to apologise?" You asked, stepping out towards the man standing outside the door.

"Yes. Of course. I would do this and more for you, baby. You know that, don't you? I'll do anything for you. You drive me nuts, that's it. That's all! It's only because I love you so much that I act like this. Please give me another chance. I won't waste it. I know you deserve better than me, you could literally get any guy out there, but fuck... Please, just let me prove to you that you make me a better man." He looked desperate, panicked, blue eyes widening with fear.

It was useless. You were completely entranced by the manipulative bullshit this guy was spewing.

“Do you promise not to yell at me again?” You asked, taking another step towards him, fingers softly touching the rose petals.

“Yes. I do. I’ll never do it again – I promise babe. I’ll be better. I am better whenever I am with you. I know I overreacted, but it’s only because I love you. You make me crazy – I am crazy, for you.”

You looked up at him, something unsure in your eyes. You glanced back at Bruce, who furrowed his eyebrows and softly shook his head “no”. It wasn't a command or an order, simply some advice. This jerk didn't deserve you. You turned back to look at Nathan and took the roses he was holding from him.

“These are really pretty,” you mumbled, inhaling their scent.

“Not as pretty as you. So, what do you say? Will you forgive me? Please? Just give me another chance.”

You seemed to ponder it, quietly analysing the roses before you. Then, a bigger smile spread across your face, and you nodded, moving towards Nathan to wrap your arms around his neck. He sighed in relief and hugged you back, burrowing his face in your hair. When his gaze caught Bruce’s, his eyes hardened. If looks could kill, Bruce would be dead and gone. Perhaps it’s a good thing he wasn't scared of this jerk.

You let go of your boyfriend and turned to Bruce, holding the bouquet tightly in your hands.

“Thank you for your kindness, Bruce.”

“Are you sure about this – “

“But this is my relationship. We’re friends, aren’t we? I need you to trust me here, okay? It’s fine. Nathan’s apologised. Everything is okay now,” you smiled, and Bruce swore he could see something breaking behind your eyes.

“He doesn’t deserve you, he yelled and – “

“Look, I said I was sorry, alright, rich boy?” Nate interrupted, spitting the words. “Mind your own business. This is my relationship, alright? I appreciate that you were here for my girl, but your help is no longer needed.”

Then, he turned, taking you away with him.

The last thing Bruce saw before Nathan’s car was out of you, was you leaning over the console to press a sweet kiss on his cheek.

He didn't like this one bit. And he was not going to rest until he was sure you were away from this guy.

He didn't see you for a while after that.

At least not directly.

During his patrols, he would stop by your apartment and watch for any signs of either you or him. But either you were extremely shy, or Nathan was very careful about not letting anyone peek into their lives, and usually closed the blinds. Bruce was sure it was the latter. He could no longer peek inside – Lucius had destroyed the system that had allowed him to spy on every citizen in Gotham, after all – and was stuck texting you and trying to pry information from you.

The only thing you told him was that everything was fine. Nathan was a gentleman, taking you out for dinner and showering you in gifts, telling you he loved you. According to you, things couldn't be better.

Your texting patterns would be sporadic. Some days, he’d spend all day chatting with you, sending pictures and things that had reminded him of you, making plans to meet up and grab a bite. Others, you’d ignore him all day, giving him one-worded replies once or twice.

“Alfred, I just don’t know what to do,” he confessed once. “I’m pretty sure the bastard might be hitting her or something. The way she acts, the way he acts? Yelling at her, fighting, and then showering her with gifts and affection? It doesn't sit right with me.”

“Have you thought about reporting it to the police, sir?”

“I don’t have enough evidence,” he grumbled. “She flinched once, and they fight. That doesn't necessarily mean he’s abusive towards her. Besides, what if anyone investigates it, does not notice anything wrong, and he gets angrier? What if he takes it out on her?” Bruce placed his hands on his face and laid his arms on his knees. It was a tricky situation. If he wasn't abusive but was still a scumbag, he doubted you’d ever leave him. If he did hurt you in any physical way, he might be risking your own safety in case he reported anything.

Suddenly, his phone chimed, and he was pulled from his thoughts as your ringtone played. He picked up on the first ring.

“Hello?”

You were breathing heavily but did not say anything. Bruce was starting to worry.

“Hello? Is everything okay?”

“Yes – yes, it is,” you quickly said, and your voice held a foreign emotion to it, something Bruce couldn't quite place. “I’m sorry, I know it’s short notice, but do you want to grab something to eat? I was supposed to meet a friend, but she cancelled on me.”

Bruce looked up towards Alfred, who nodded in acknowledgement.

“Yes, sure. Of course, I'll meet you. Did you have any place in mind?”

“There’s this sandwich place near Gotham Mall, perhaps we could go there? I’ve been meaning to try it out for a while, but… Well, it’s just never been a right time. I’ll text you the address if you want to.” Something was up with your voice. You didn't usually sound so unconfident, at least not with him.

“I’d appreciate that. I’ll meet you there in 20. That okay?”

“Yeah, that’s perfect. Thank you, Bruce.” There was a small tilt to your voice that Bruce paired up with a smile, and then you hung up.

20? He’d be there in 10.

Bruce was already sitting down by a window, wearing a casual dark blue polo when you walked in. It was impossible to miss him – you found him the most handsome man in the world, with his beautifully carved jawline and his kind eyes.

What were you even saying? You have a boyfriend. Control yourself. If he knew you were even having these thoughts…

Instinctively, you wrapped your jacket tighter around you.

Once Bruce spotted you, he stood up to meet you halfway. You hugged him briefly, tensing under his touch, which he simply chalked up to awkwardness after that night. Had you felt the same he had? Was that why you were acting so strange?

“Thank you for meeting me,” you sighed, sitting down. “My friend cancelled last minute; I didn’t know who else to call. I hope you don’t feel like a last resort or anything – you were actually the first person I thought about.”

Bruce nodded. A waitress came over and asked you both if you would like to see the menu. You looked over at the options and a small smile was pulled from your lips. Once Bruce had picked a Caprese sandwich, you asked for a Pesto Chicken one, and a lemonade. The waitress smiled at you both (well, she smiled at Bruce), grabbed your menus (making it a show of bending over to show off her cleavage) and walked away.

Bruce, however, didn’t seem to notice, seeing as his eyes were on you.

“Is everything okay?”

You looked away, before meeting his gaze. And you smiled. It was gentle, and soft, and fake. Bruce knew, because he plastered on the same smile whenever he had to attend galas full of people whose only interest were his last name and his bank account.

“Yeah! I’m just tired, I think. Haven’t been sleeping well.”

Bruce’s gaze landed on your figure. You were leaning on your right arm, staring absentmindedly at the counter. You were wearing a pretty denim jacket, and a simple purple shirt underneath, as well as a pair of jeans. It wasn’t a very flashy outfit, and yet he thought you looked gorgeous.

“Aren’t you going to take that off?” he asked, nodding towards the jacket you were wearing.

“Hm?” You turned to him and blinked repeatedly. “Oh – no. No need, I’m kind of chilly. How have you been?”

Rather good at deflecting attention, you were. He decided to play along for the time being.

“I’ve been good. Work has been hectic, but what else could you expect when you’re running a company,” he sighed. “I’ve been worried about you, though. You’ve been ignoring me for a few days – are you sure you’re doing okay?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Work has been hectic as well. The restaurant is going through a few renovations, and we know have more tables to wait. It’s been a hard adjustment, but I’m doing my best.”

“I’m sure you are,” he smiled.

After that, conversation flowed easily, as it usually did between you two. Your sandwiches arrived and you tried each other’s comparing tastes and flavours, trying to prove to each other that your choice was superior. You told him about your new patrons at your job, an old couple who left you extremely big tips and called you “darling” every time you walked by. In return, he told you about this big investor who was interested in a fundraising project to combat poverty in Gotham.

It was as nice as always, and when the bill came, he reached for it without batting an eye.

“Hey – Mr, let me. You can’t just pay for everything.” You chided, reaching out to grab the bill from his hands.

“No, that’s out of the question,” he replied, as casually as asking about the weather. “You don’t have to pay for anything when you’re with me.”

“Bruce,” you whined half-jokingly, still trying to fetch the piece of paper from him. He lifted it over his head, and you huffed, leaning back once again. “You can’t pay for everything every time we’re out.”

“Why not?” Bruce raised an eyebrow. “I’m allowed to spoil you. Aren’t I?”

The word spoil had you turn your head, heat creeping up to your cheeks.

“I don’t deserve to be spoiled.”

“Sure you do. If anyone deserves to be spoiled, it’s you.”

You looked into his eyes for a few moments, unable to form any words. Every time you were with him, you felt your heart warm. You felt like everything was right. It was easy to talk with Bruce. To Bruce. You felt like you could tell him just about anything.

Not anything.

“How about we go for a walk?” Bruce asked. You nodded and moved to get up.

But as you did so, the left sleeve of your jacket got stuck on your table. You pulled away, causing your whole arm to be exposed to him, a large bruise running along it. Your eyes widened and you panicked, forcefully pulling your jacket from the chair, and wrapping it around yourself again.

You heard Bruce call out your name, but you were far too focused on picking up your things and running out of the establishment, Bruce right behind you.

“Hey! Hey! Come black, please! Don’t go!” He wanted to scream, to yell, to reach out to you and hold you tight, but he knew doing any of those things could scare you off. He could lose you forever, and he was not going to let his anger at Nathan cloud his judgement.

You didn’t want to run, though. You crossed the street and stopped right in front of a park bench, tears streaming down your face. Once Bruce caught up with you, he maintained his distance, but remained close enough should you want to come closer. He called your name. Softly. As if it was some sort of prayer, a mantra. It felt nice coming from his lips. He sounded kind. Unlike…

“Who did that to you?” he asked, exasperation in his voice. There was no point dancing around the subject.

“No one. I tripped, and I fell, and I – “

“Please, don’t give me that crap.” His words were harsh, but his voice was soft, and everything was so confusing, all you could do was sit down on the bench in front of you and cry.

“I fell, Bruce. I’m so clumsy, I fell during one of my shifts at the restaurant and that’s all, I promise you.”

Bruce sat down next to you. A few inches, but still, next to you. His mind was running hot with anger. That bastard had done it, he’d actually touched you and hurt you, and Bruce was going to do everything in his power to make sure he never saw the light of the sun again. You raised your head and looked at Bruce. You thought he’d be looking at you with disgust, but there was none in his gaze. Only kindness, only softness.

“It was an accident…” you mumbled, and he had to move closer in order to make out the words you were saying. “It was my fault. I provoked him…”

There it was.

Not his fault. You’d provoked him.

Bruce did his best to school his features. He needed to be calm, he needed to look collected and cool. If he acted out and showed just how angry he was, he might scare you off, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. He didn’t want you to associate him to Nathan, to the monster who’d hurt you.

“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked.

“It, it was my fault…” you sobbed. “He came home from work, and he was so tired… He’d had a really rough day, and all he wanted was to come home to a nice warm dinner, but, but… I was so tired, Bruce, I was so tired, so I didn’t cook – not even for myself! And when he came home, he started shouting and telling me I wasn’t good for anything, that he couldn’t even count on me to make him dinner.” You hid your face in your hands and sobbed louder. “So – so I told him to cook his own dinner, and I know I shouldn’t, because he was so tired! And – and he got mad, and… He... he...”

“Can I come any closer?” you furrowed your brows. Why was Bruce asking that? Why was he being so sweet with you? Especially after you’d just told him you were a terrible girlfriend, being as selfish as to not cook for your boyfriend after a tiring day. But the only thing in his eyes was gentleness. And he was being so sweet with you. Did you even deserve such a treatment?

You nodded your head yes, and he slowly moved closer, hand picking up yours.

“You need to report him to the police.”

Your eyes widened, and you began to shake your head while he spoke.

“He hurt you. This is domestic violence, it’s abuse. You need to report him – “

“No. No, no, no – “

“He can’t keep hurting you like this. All the yelling, all the fights, he’s taking advantage of you, and you don’t deserve any of that. Honey, he’s hurting you – “~

“No, no, no, no, no, no – “

“He’s abusing you.”

“He’s not – he loves me, it was an accident – “

“It wasn’t an accident; he’s hurt you before – “

“He hasn’t!” you exclaimed, shaking your head, “He has not hurt me!”

“Not physically, maybe, but he treats you like shit, which also counts as abuse. Listen to me, please,” he moved closer and slowly lifted his hands to cup your face. He did it slowly, giving you plenty of time to adjust, react, move away from him, do anything to show your discomfort. You did not, so he held your face in a way that showed just how afraid he was that you would break.

“You deserve better. This scumbag is hurting you. Let me help you.”

You looked into his eyes, and the whole thing felt foreign to you. Being held so gently, being talked to so calmly, being regarded as something close to precious, to dear. Wasn’t this how relationships were supposed to go? Wasn’t Nathan supposed to be just like this?

“I love him…” you whispered, attempting to look away. Bruce did not let you. He kept his gaze focused on you. “I can’t leave him Bruce, I… He was so sorry… You should’ve seen him; he was so broken… He regretted it so much.”

"He looked broken because he's trying to fool you." Bruce let go of your face and held your hands in his, hoping to convey everything he meant just by this touch. "I can't stand and watch as he hurts you like this. Please let me do something. Let me help. I'll get him fired. I'll get him arrested. This can't go on; he can't keep hurting you – "

"I love him!" You sobbed, shaking your head. "I do, and he loves me, and he did not mean it! It was an accident! You can't do anything; you can't take him from me! Please, if you care about me in any way, don't do anything. We'll sort it out. I promise you it won't happen again, honest."

Bruce was torn. Torn between storming out of there and beating that asshole boyfriend of yours into a pulp and staying there comforting you. He wanted to do both so badly. He couldn't just stand aside and do nothing, but he also did not want to lose you forever. He could still do it, of course. Hurt Nathan, the same way he'd hurt you. But then he was most definitely sure he'd lose you forever. And would that be worth it? It would. He'd lose you, but you'd be safe. And wasn't that what mattered the most in the end?

"Please, Bruce... Trust me..." You whispered, looking deep into his eyes, trying to find some sort of sign in there that would show you he was still on your side, by your side. Your friends were against you, so was your family. Nathan was right. They were all terrible, they hated you and did not want you to be happy.

With all those people gone, you needed to know you still had Bruce. That despite everyone leaving, he was still yours.

He's not yours though, a little voice said inside your head. You tried to drown it. Who Bruce belongs to is none of your business. And it’s not like he even belongs to someone, he is his own person. Not some property to be handed around carelessly.

You’d never handle him carelessly though. You’d love him. And he’d love you, the way you’re meant to be loved. No. This was wrong. You were not supposed to have these thoughts. You had Nathan. And you loved him.

Did you, though? What had Nathan done for you as of late? Hit you and berate you and fight you and yell at you. Was that even how relationships went?

Sure. That's how passionate relationships went. And you knew Nathan was passionate about you. That’s why he got angry so often, because your love drove him nuts. Loving you drove him nuts. He adored you so much, you made him lose rationality. And wasn't that romantic?

Bruises aren't romantic. Taking care of someone is romantic. Holding them while they cry. Cheering them up with ice-cream and Monopoly, and surprising them at work. What a wonderful boyfriend Bruce would be.

No. Stop it. Those thoughts are wrong.

You looked at Bruce, standing in front of you, regarding you with so much care and worry. How you wished you could just melt in his arms forever. Sometimes you liked to relive how nice it felt to rest in his hold. How natural. You wished you could hug him again and never let go.

It was frightening, really, the way your feelings for Bruce were growing. He’d been just a friend at first, someone you could trust, someone you could spend time with and have fun. But now, he was so much more than that, and you feared the lines between friendship, and something more had begun to blur.

“I’d treat you so much better,” he suddenly blurted, drawing circles on your hand with his thumbs. “You deserve better than him. Please let me do better. Let me show you how you deserve to be loved.”

Tears found their ways to your eyes, and you shook your head, slowly.

You couldn't. No, you couldn't, possibly.

“I’m sorry…” you started, trying to choke back a sob.

“Please. You deserve to be treated with respect. With kindness, with love. Nathan isn't doing any of these things, he’s disrespecting you by laying his hands on you and hurting you all the time.” His face was mere inches away from yours now. Why was he so close? You could smell his cologne, see every speck of light in his eyes, listen to the breath he let out as his lips parted.

It wouldn't hurt to get closer. His lips must taste nice.

It would be wrong. So wrong.

You like him, don't you? And he treats you nice and likes you so much.

You love Nathan. You’d been with him for years now and loved him. He was good for you. He loved you, he provided for you. He paid most of the rent every month and 1bought most of the groceries. Your salary as a waitress could not compare to his, the one of a prestigious doctor. You couldn't leave him. It would ruin you.

Bruce has way more money than him. He would help you get back on your feet.

Quickly, you scrambled to your feet, getting away from him. This was wrong. Extremely wrong. You were dating Nathan. And that was the end of it.

“I'm sorry, Bruce,” you said, sounding more confident than you felt. “I'm in love with Nathan. Please trust me on this. I know what I'm doing.”

“I can’t just stand by and watch as he hurts you.” Bruce's voice held something to it you couldn't quite place. It felt like sorrow, like grief. You hated it. It made your stomach churn.

“He won’t hurt me anymore! He loves me!”

“Are you saying that because you believe it, or because you're trying to?”

The question took you by surprise.

“I…” you stuttered, shaking your hand. “I… I believe it.”

Did you?

“If you care about me Bruce, please let me be. My relationship is none of your concern.”

“What? Please – “

“Please mind your business, Bruce.” You mumbled, pulling your jacket tighter around you, and sighing. “Thank you for the sandwich. I’ll see you around.”

You spun on your heel and walked away, leaving behind a very broken-hearted Bruce Wayne.

You were constantly on Bruce’s mind. You plagued his thoughts 24/7 – your face, your eyes, your smile, your laugh. Again and again, from the moment he woke up, to the second he closed his eyes and fell asleep. You haunted his dreams too. Cried, lovely face covered in black and purple bruises, blood dripping down your mouth. These nightmares usually ended with a blood-curdling scream from you, and Bruce waking up in cold sweats.

It wasn't pleasant. Not at all.

And the worst part was, he had no idea what to do.

“If I report him, he might hurt her even further.”

“Yes, but that was when you had no evidence. You’ve told me she told you he hit her, things are different now, she confessed he was acting abusive towards her.” Alfred said, preparing a cup of tea. Bruce had foregone coffee for a while. Ever since you made it so difficult for him to sleep, Alfred had been trying different methods of getting his boss to sleep.

“Maybe I should have a little run-in with him. Or rather, the Batman should.” Bruce muttered, running a hand through his already messy hair.

“And what good would that make, Master Wayne?”

“I’d tell him to stay away from her. Shake him up a bit. Beat him up. Teach him a lesson.”

“I thought this wasn't about revenge,” the old butler settled a cup of tea in front of Bruce and sat next to him with a sigh. “Master Wayne, may I speak freely?”

“Of course.”

“Gotham has just begun to see Batman as a symbol of hope. You don't want to scare its people by beating up a doctor. Granted, he’s a despicable man who dares hit his partner, but a doctor, nonetheless. It would be foolish to destroy everything you’ve worked so hard to build so far.”

“Then what am I supposed to do, Alfred? How am I supposed to save her if I'm not Batman?”

“That is curious, because I don’t remember hearing the Miss say she liked spending time with the Batman. She did not cling to his arms and cried and told him her darkest secrets. She did not invite him for lunches and afternoon snacks and walks because she liked his company.” He mused. “She did all of that with Bruce Wayne. Perhaps you don't need a mask this time, Master Wayne. Perhaps, this time, being you is enough.”

Bruce thought the words over in his head. Alfred was right – something that happened abnormally often. You had never needed him as Batman. Just Bruce was enough.

“There’s also the fact that your family has left you a rather comfortable fortune, and more prestige that you could ever ask for. I’m sure Bruce Wayne would suffice.”

Bruce chuckled humourlessly, sipping from his cup of tea.

“She won’t open up to me, though. I mean, she will. She told me he was hurting her, that he’d pushed her. But she refused to let me help and said that I couldn't tell a soul. How am I supposed to get her to trust me?”

Alfred hummed.

“Perhaps you should invite her over again. Tell her you would like to talk. Or, you know, go to the police like a regular person and end the nightmare she is undoubtedly living.”

“I’ve done some research, Alfred,” Bruce sighed, “Dr. Nathan Smith is well liked in his community. Volunteers, donates to charity, the whole ordeal. If she tells the police, it was an accident and she fell, they’re likely to believe her. We need something more concrete.”

Alfred hummed once more. He could see where Bruce was coming from. On one hand, it was endearing. He’d never cared so much about someone and was clearly smitten by you. On the other, he was afraid the man would make a move far too late.

“And your plan, Master Wayne, is?”

Bruce dropped his head on the kitchen table. The white marble felt cold against his skin, and he relished in the comfort it provided.

“I don’t know, Alfred. I don’t know.”

“I thought I told you to stop hanging out with her?”

Bruce would recognise that voice anywhere.

As soon as it reached his ears, his fists clenched involuntarily. It seemed to him it was second nature to be angry around that piece of shit.

“Nate, she’s my oldest friend… I miss her terribly; it’s been ages since we've hung out.”

You were walking a few steps ahead of him, arm linked with Nathan’s. Well, rather, Nathan was gripping your arm, and you were simply being pulled along. Harshly.

“Ah, I see. So you’d rather hang out with her than me.” Nathan scoffed and shook his head, and you turned to face him. Bruce could see the heartbreak in your eyes.

“No! That’s not true!”

“She hates me. She doesn’t think we’re good together and wants to break us apart. And you want to hang out with her. Just tell me you want to break up and leave me the fuck alone!”

Nathan shoved you away from him, before shaking his head and walking faster down the road. Your teared up and ran after him. “Nate!” you yelled. “Nate! Please!” Once you reached him, you held onto his hands tightly, trying to get him to stop. He did not. “Please, Nate, I’m sorry! I won’t bring her up again, I promise!”

Nathan kept walking, not even sparing you a glance.

“I promise Nate, I’m so sorry! I’m sorry, please, forgive me!”

No one seemed to give two damns about the two of you. After all, people were selfish and did not care enough about the world around them. Only Bruce’s gaze was on you.

Nathan finally stopped, and sighed, looking at the floor.

“If you want to be her friend, and don’t love me anymore, I get it. That’s okay. You can move out, get your stuff – “

“No! No, I don’t want to be her friend, Nate, I don’t,” you pleaded, holding both his hands and shaking your head vigorously. Bruce felt like a creep, staring at you like that, staring into your private life like that, but what else could he do? “I’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again. I promise. I love you. Okay?” You placed yourself on the tip of your toes to reach his face and kissed his lips gently. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, please, I love you, please forgive me…”

Bruce swore he could see the glint of victory in Nathan’s eyes, and it made his insides churn.

“You promise?”

“I do! I promise! I love you so much, Nate, I won’t talk about her ever again. I love you and only you. You’re the love of my life!” You reached up to kiss him again, and Nathan responded, albeit unexcitedly. It was enough for you though, and you linked your hand with his. “I love you, Nate. So much. You’re the only person I need.”

The blonde man hummed, and you pulled him along. You tried your best to keep him close to you, but he wasn’t responding. That’s when Bruce decided he needed to intervene.

It was only when Bruce said your name a second time, louder, that you turned around, eyes widening with surprise.

“Bruce!” He could tell you weren’t expecting to see him here. He could also tell you were scared. Not of him, of course, but of the man at your side, by the way your whole body tensed, and your eyes drifted from him to Bruce.

“Ah. Bruce.” Nathan spit, looking at him with a fake expression of politeness. Bruce could tell his smile wasn’t real and noticed how his hold tightened on you. “What a coincidence. Have you perhaps been following us?” He laughed dryly. It was a poor attempt at a joke, and an even poorer attempt of figuring out if you’d listened to his whole conversation with you.

“Ah, no. I was just on my way home.”

“What were you up to?” you asked, voice relaxed as it often was when you were around him.

“Well, I'm celebrating the establishment of a new children's school in my family's name. It's a very important cause, and I’m throwing a party later this week. Alfred and I were shopping together.” Bruce replied.

“You? Shopping?” There was a happy tilt to your voice. Bruce only wished you would always sound like that.

“Well, I wasn’t alone. Baby steps.” He chuckled.

“And who is this Alfred?” Nathan interjected. “Some servant of yours?”

Bruce frowned. He did not like the way your boyfriend referred to the man who was the closest thing he had to a family. Still, he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of anger.

“Alfred is my butler. He has been with my family for many years, and I consider him part of it. He is not a servant, and it shocks me that someone surely so well-read as you would refer to someone with such a degrading term.” Bruce raised his eyebrow, and he could swear he saw Nathan shrink a bit. It made you smile. It made Bruce feel good.

“My apologies, Bruce.” Nathan responded, offering a tight-lipped smile. He did not like losing, and that’s all he felt himself doing when he was around Bruce Wayne. Losing his temper, losing his control, losing his upper hand. It was something he detested greatly. He needed to get away from there. And quick.

“Honey, we need to go. Don’t want to steal too much of Bruce’s time, do we?”

“It’s not a problem, really,” Bruce retorted, ignoring your boyfriend, and turning to you instead. That’s when he noticed what you were wearing. Another jacket – a big one, oversized, a turtleneck and a pair of jeans. Gone were your shorts and flowy tops, you were now covered from head to toe. Why? To conceal what, exactly? And now that he got a good look at your face, was the hell was going on with your lip? It seemed split. “There’s nothing else in my list. Say, do you have any plans for next Friday? I would love if you two stopped by. It’s for a good cause, and perhaps you’ll have fun?”

He had to get you there. He had to get you alone with him, safe, away from Nathan.

“A party? At Wayne Manor?” Nathan asked.

“Yes. Will you be there?”

You looked up at your boyfriend, hope in your eyes.

Nathan noticed your excitement and blew air through his nose – the closest you’d get to a chuckle.

“Of course. We would love to go.”

“Really?” You beamed. That was not the answer you were expecting from him. Nathan hated Bruce – you knew this. Did this mean he was trying? Trying to befriend your friends? For your sake?

“Of course.” Nathan bent down to kiss your forehead, earning a genuine smile from you. “If you’d like to.”

“I would!”

It was small, the notion of a happy relationship, the notion that you were happy. But Bruce saw right through it. None of it was real. He was just playing a part.

“We should get going. It was nice seeing you, Bruce.”

“Oh – okay!” you yelped when Nathan turned you around and pulled you along with him. “It was nice seeing you, Bruce! I’ll see you Friday!”

And just like that, you were gone.

But Bruce wasn’t one to give up. Something felt off. Something smelled fishy. Nathan had been too kind, too nice, too allowing. Was it all a façade? He knew Nathan would never allow you to go to a party, especially one hosted by him. Something was definitely up. His feet moved, and before he could realise it, he was following the two figures in front of him to a dark alley. He heard voices and walked deeper.

That’s how he found you, pressed up against the wall, Nathan’s hand cruelly pressed against the hollow of your throat.

“Why the fuck are you still talking to him?” Nathan grumbled, tightening the hold he had on your throat. His knuckles turned white. “Huh!? You say you love me and then go around and fuck that rich motherfucker? Is that it, yeah?”

“N-No!” you sobbed, struggling to breath. Tears streamed down your face, hands clutching his. “Nate, please. You’re hurting me.” Your words were interrupted by coughs, and just before your vision could go completely black, you saw Nathan get dragged around and thrown on the floor. As soon as your vision (and your air) returned, you saw Bruce do to Nathan what he’d done to you.

“How dare you lay your disgusting hands on her,” he bellowed, and you somehow recognised that voice. It felt familiar. Bruce turned to you, and shook his head, arm still against Nathan’s neck. “Are you okay?” You nodded silently, wiping your tears, and taking a few steps back.

Bruce was surprised no one else had interrupted the two of you, but then again, this was Gotham. It didn’t matter if Batman was ridding crime for good, people would still look the other way, far too accustomed to violence to even bother.

“Are you seriously going to let him do this?” Nathan scowled, fighting against Bruce’s iron grip – it was no use. Somehow, this rich dumb playboy was stronger than he looked.

“I… I…” You looked in between the two men, still wiping your tears away. Part of you wanted Bruce to teach him a lesson. The other wanted him to let go of your boyfriend.

“Fuck – do something! Are you going to let this brute hurt me like this!?”

“Keep your filthy mouth shut,” Bruce whispered, before turning to face you completely. “What do you want me to do?”

This surprised you. You had a choice? You could decide?

“If you want to, I’ll beat him to a pulp myself. We’ll take him to the police. I’ll protect you. I promise I will. I can take care of you. You will never have to look him in the eye again.” Bruce’s eyes were filled with longing, and you found yourself walking towards him.

Wouldn’t that be nice? Nathan could go to jail. He’d leave you alone forever. No more fighting, no more hitting you, no more hurting you. You’d be free.

“Tell him to let go!” Now, Nathan’s face was turning a nasty shade of purple, and his lovely blue eyes were wide with fear. “Tell him! Are you going to let him do this to me? I love you!”

Bruce said your name softly. “Don’t listen to him. He’s done nothing but lie to you over and over again. You can end this nightmare right now.”

“Please! I’ll be better! I promise” Nathan coughed, the lack of air getting to him. “I was just jealous! You know me, I – I get like this! I thought you were going to leave me for him! I can’t compete with Bruce Wayne.”

“Shut up.” Bruce shook his head. “All you’ve been doing is hurting her. Abusing her. Do you seriously think I’m letting you go unscathed?”

It was scary, to be honest, seeing Bruce like this. You’d never seen him this angry, and he somehow reminded you of Nathan. Granted, the anger wasn’t directed towards you, but it still made you feel uneasy and unsafe, and all you wanted him was to go back to the sweet and kind Bruce who stole spoonfulls of your ice-cream and cheated at Monopoly when you weren’t looking.

“Bruce?” you whispered, frozen in place.

“Yeah?”

“Let go.”

“What?”

“Please let go.”

He looked at you and noticed the fear in your eyes. Something inside him broke and he wanted to punish himself for making you feel like that. Were you afraid of him? His hold on Nathan’s neck loosened, and the latter took this as an opportunity to get away and walk towards you. Nathan embraced you tightly, burrowing his face in your hair and crying loudly.

“I’m so sorry… I hate myself for the way I’ve been treating you… You deserve so much better than me, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness… I’m just a mess who seems to ruin everything… Please forgive me for being so possessive, I just – I just never feel like I’m worthy of you.” Nathan’s lies spilled from his lips, and the very same lips found their way to yours, kissing you softly as he held your face in his hands.

You seemed unresponsive, though, eyes fixed on Bruce. Was this how he always behaved? Had you simply not seen it before? Would he act this way towards you?

“I’m sorry…” his voice somehow got through to you. “I just… I couldn’t just stand by and watch as he hurt you…”

It was true, you gathered. He’d said it before. He’d always put himself between you and Nathan whenever you two fought. He’d never allowed Nathan to mistreat you in front of him, always protecting you – or trying to – no matter what.

Still, it had been horrifying to see those eyes who regarded you with such kindness, look at someone else with nothing but rage. To hear that lovely voice that always cheered you up sound so hateful. It wasn’t your Bruce. It simply wasn’t.

Your arms wrapped themselves around Nathan’s torso, almost as if mechanically. You had to do it. It’s what you did. Nathan yelled and fought and hurt. And then he’d apologize and take you back. It made you feel sick and nauseous and empty inside. But you knew no one else you love you like he did. No one would love you as passionately as Nathan did. And you didn’t want to be all alone.

“Let’s go home, okay, baby?” he asked, one hand caressing your cheek, the other rubbing circles on your hip affectionately. “We can cuddle and watch a movie. Anything you like. How does that sound?”

“Don’t,” Bruce pleaded, eyebrows furrowing. Were you seriously still going home with him? After all that had happened?

You did not break eye contact. You knew you shouldn’t go back home with Nate. At least a part of you did. A part of you knew this was wrong. Knew that you deserved better, knew that Nate was abusive and did not deserve you. But that part had long been defeated, and all that was left were small voices in your head that yelled “No one else is going to love you like this” repeatedly.

And you always let them win.

“Let’s go,” you mumbled.

Nathan wrapped his arm around your waist, kissed your forehead, and Bruce watched as you two left the alley.

You did not text him anymore.

And on Friday, none of you appeared at the Manor for the party.

It was close to 2 in the morning when Bruce was stirred awake by the sounds of knocking on his front door.

He’d fallen asleep on the couch, exhausted from exploring a few new gadgets and functions Lucius had implemented on his suit. Patrol had been rough on him, the new holographic projection system taking a while to get used to, but well worth it in the end. It would spare him a handful of bruises and stress.

Alfred had retired for the night long ago, so it was just Bruce, a copy of a book you’d mentioned in passing once and he decided to read, and a fire cackling in the fireplace.

He got up, groggily rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and made his way towards the door. Far too tired to be careful (really, who the hell would be knocking at his door at 2 in the morning? And it’s not like he could blink the sleep away in a matter of seconds. He had enough training for that) Bruce opened the door, coming face to face with a hunched figure.

“This better be good for you to be knocking on my god damned door at 2 in the morning –“

That’s when the figure in front of him shifted. It was no longer a mere figure. It was you.

You were hunched over, looking down, head covering your whole face, and Bruce could make out faint sobbing. He called your name once, twice, three times, softly. All you could do was shake your head. hands tightly clutched in front of you.

“Come on, let’s go inside.”

Bruce stepped aside so you could walk in. He would not touch you without your permission, without not knowing what had happened. You stepped inside, shaking all over. The clothes on your body were comprised of a flimsy pyjama set, a long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of pants. Your feet were bare save for the fluffy bunny slippers on them. You looked cold – had you left in a hurry?

“Hey, can we sit on the couch?” Bruce asked, fluffing up some pillows. You nodded and followed him, sitting down, head still hung low. Would you even look at him?

“Do you want something to drink?” He kneeled next to you but did not try to look into your eyes. He wanted to be on the same level as you, make you feel safe, but also give you the space and freedom to move away from him should you want that. He’d never want to smother you. You nodded your head softly, and Bruce was quick to move to the kitchen. He knew your favourite by heart, and within a few minutes, had it prepared and on top of the coffee table in front of you. “There it is,” he mumbled, sitting back again. He'd wait for you to take the first step.

And when you did, all the air left his lungs.

You looked up, hair clinging to your sweaty forehead, silent tears streaming down your face. Most of the lights were off, the fire being the only thing illuminating your features. Your delicate lips, your nose, your beautiful eyes, and the black and purple bruise surrounding one of them. The look Bruce gave you, whatever it was, just made you sob uncontrollably once again. He didn’t know if whether to touch you, come closer or back off, but you answered that question yourself when you wrapped your arms around him, sobbing loudly.

“I’m sorry…” you sobbed, holding onto him tightly. Bruce reciprocated the hug, spreading his legs so you could move comfortably in between them. He adjusted you in his lap and kissed your forehead, just holding you tightly.

“No, none of that,” he shushed you, rocking both your bodies back and forth. “You don’t have to apologize. Never.”

“It wasn’t my fault… it wasn’t Bruce, you have to believe me…”

“I do. I believe you. It’s not your fault.”

He wanted to know what the hell that jerk had done to you. But he knew he couldn’t – you might close yourself off even more and refuse to talk if he pressed further.

So, he made sure you were comfortable. Bruce picked you up and moved to the couch, covering both of your bodies with a blanket, and pulling you closer. You took the hint immediately, snuggling up as close as possible to him, face pressed against his neck. You were hiding from him, but it felt nice to be in his arms.

The two of you stayed like that for a while. Bruce turned on the TV and allowed you to pick a channel (“Mhm” for yes and “Hm-hm” for no) until you were watching some silly rom-com that got you chuckling occasionally. Bruce was stroking your arms gently, bending down to press kisses against your forehead whenever he felt you might need them. He wasn’t paying any attention to the movie in front of him, instead coming up with a plan to throw that idiot in jail.

After you’d finished your drink, you gathered the courage to shift in his lap and completely face him. The bruise covering your eye was on full display, and Bruce could now make out the dried blood on your lip.

“He… he hurt me, Bruce…” you mumbled, reaching for his hand. Bruce squeezed yours tightly, a silent reminder that he was there and listening, and that you weren’t alone. “I’m so scared… He pushed me and kept hitting me, and I was begging him to stop but he wouldn’t… I didn’t know what else to do, so I just waited for him to fall asleep and ran… I had to – I had to wait. He wanted to sleep next to me. He kept apologizing and promising he’d be better, so I told him it was okay, and I went to bed with him…” Bruce wiped away your tears, nodding along. Outside, he was the picture of compassion and sympathy. Inside, a fire was burning, and he had to control every bone in his body not to get into his car and drive to your (hopefully ex by now) boyfriend’s house.

“You’re so brave,” he muttered, running his hand through your hair to soothe you. “I can’t believe how hard that must’ve been. But you’re so brave, and I’m so proud of you.”

“I thought he could change,” you started to sob, shaking your head. “He – he said he would. He said that he loved me a lot and he’d only hit me because he was jealous and afraid I would leave him. All because I told him I regretted not going to your party that Friday… I’m so sorry, Bruce.”

“No apologies needed. You’re not the one to blame here, okay? It’s him, and him alone.” His hands reached up to wipe your tears, and you flinched, the pressure of his fingers on your bruise sending painful memories through your head. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Let’s take care of this, shall we?”

And he did.

Bruce took you to the master bathroom and sat you on top of the counter while he fetched his first-aid kit and a few ointments and creams. Your hands never left him as he worked – on his shirt, on his shoulders, on his hands. He cleaned the bruise with some water and pressed an ice pack against it to reduce the swelling. He told you a few anecdotes that had happened at Wayne Enterprises – angry costumers who tried to scam him, spilled coffees, and other amusing situations – to keep you grounded. His voice was like a lifeline to you.

After the swelling was taken care of, he softly applied ointment around your eye, being careful as to not put too much pressure on the pads of his fingers. He smeared some of it on the tip of your nose, earning a smile from you, before moving on to your lip and taking care of it too. Once all was done, he took a step back.

“Don’t look at me like that…” you mumbled, looking away.

“How?”

“Like that. Like I’m pitiable.”

“Hm.” Bruce tilted his head, pretending to think your statement over, “No. Not pitiable – that’s not who I’m looking at.”

You met his gaze again.

“I’m looking at the bravest woman I have probably ever known.” He crouched in front of you to stay at your eye level. Your hands did not leave his. “I’m looking at a remarkable woman, one with a big heart and a courageous spirit. You’ve endured all of this, and you’re still standing.”

“I’m a coward, Bruce,” you shook your head. “I let him to this to me. I let him break me. He’s right – who would ever love me after him? Who will ever love me like him? Maybe this was a mistake – I shouldn’t have left me. He’s the only one who will love me as I am.”

Bruce was quick to refute you.

“He’s wrong. I hope you know just how wrong he is. Nathan has spent all this time hurting you, lying to you.”

“He hasn’t – I’m broken, I’m damaged goods – who will ever want me?”

“You’re not damaged goods. You hear me? You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. You’re so kind and brave. What you endured is beyond me, and I know I will never understand it, but please believe me when I say that you’re not broken. You’re not damaged. And Nathan is not right. He’s lied to you.”

You looked at him and searched his eyes for any sign of falsehood, of deceit. All you found was kindness. And a warmer emotion you couldn’t pinpoint yet but wanted to figure out.

“You light up even the darkest of days,” Bruce mumbled, moving closer to you. His hand moved to cup your face and you instinctively pressed against it. You’d never felt safer than whenever you were in Bruce’s arms. “And I will do everything in my power to protect you. To keep you safe. The truth is…” He looked at the floor for a few seconds, before meeting your eyes again. “I love you.” You sucked in a breath. “I have, for a while. And I know that’s not what you want to hear right now, nor what you need to hear. And I’m not saying this to force you to be with me, especially after I took care of you. What I’m trying to say is, I don’t expect compensation. I don’t. I’m just saying this because – because I want you to know Nathan is wrong. You’re not damaged goods. And I love you. So much. Ever since I met you, my life has been happier, brighter. For years I’ve had a hole inside of me. Something empty, something that would eat me up from the inside. But then you came along. And you filled that void. And Nathan is so, so wrong, because how could someone not love you? How could someone not love you? How could he try and make you believe you’re not worthy of love, when that’s all you deserve?”

Tears were now streaming down both of your faces. Bruce had never been this vulnerable before, and to his surprise, it didn’t hurt nor scare him. It felt right, to trust you like this, to open up.

“You don’t need to say it back. Please don’t feel forced to say it back. I just wanted you to know that you’re worthy of love, and that I’ll be here to help you. Always. Even if all you feel towards me is friendship. I’ll protect you forever, I promise. He will never touch you again. No one will.”

When you did not reply, Bruce’s stomach fell. Had he screwed up? Had this been a terrible occasion to let you know of his feelings? It wasn’t ideal, no, but he had to tell you. Fuck. He had screwed up, didn’t he? And now he would lose you forever –

You interrupted his thoughts, hands on his jaw, pulling him closer. You blinked slowly – once, twice.

“I love you too,” you whispered, afraid that should you say it any louder, the fantasy might break. “I think I have for a while too. But I was so scared, Bruce… I have nothing to offer – I work a shitty job, and Nathan was paying for everything. My bills, my groceries, my clothes. I was so afraid of leaving. And then whenever I was with you, all I felt… Was happiness.” You chuckled through the tears. “You made me feel so happy, Bruce. And so safe. I always feel safe with you. But I was so scared… I’m so sorry…”

“No – shh. You don’t have to say you’re sorry,” Bruce shook his head, turning to place a kiss on your palm. “You’re so brave. Have I said this already? You’re so brave. I’m so sorry for everything you had to endure. I’m so sorry I didn’t do anything earlier. Shit, I’m an idiot. I should’ve reported him to the police as soon as I realised he was hurting you, but I was too scared he’d turn their heads and you’d get the short end of the stick.”

You smiled, something warm blooming in your chest. Bruce really did care for you, didn’t he?

“My plan was to report him, but I didn’t know if you’d lie to the police in order to cover everything up. I was afraid you would, and he would hurt you further. I’m sorry.”

You repeated his words back to him.

“You don’t have to be sorry. You always stood up for me whenever Nathan was around. You never let him talk to me the way he did whenever you were there. I just wish I hadn’t been so blind… I wish I’d trusted you the first time you told me he was no good… It’s just – we’d been together for so long, and I was so afraid to leave him. Nathan was all I knew. I didn’t want to be alone. I didn’t want to be unloved.”

“You’re not.” Bruce shook his head again. “Not unloved. I love you. You’re worthy of love, and happiness, and kindness, and good things.”

You nodded at him, a single tear running down your cheek. This one, however, was a tear of happiness. Your eyes flickered to his lips, and Bruce whispered.

“Can I kiss you?”

You chuckled.

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

“Is this funny?” he asked with a smile.

“You’re always asking for my permission. If you can touch me, if you can hold me.”

“I would never do anything you were uncomfortable with. Anything you didn’t want.”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Please kiss me,” you mumbled, and no other words were needed, as Bruce closed the space between the two of you and kissed you on the lips.

It was the softest kiss you’d ever had in your entire life. There was no roughness, no edge, no anger, or rage – all the things Nathan kissed you with. Bruce, however, kissed you with love. His lips moved in tandem with yours, brushing and caressing and telling a story of tenderness and warmth. It felt nice. It felt perfect. It felt like you had been made to kiss him. You pulled him up by his shirt, and he did so, placing his hands on either side of the marble to trap you. Your legs spread instinctively to accommodate him, and his hands brushed against your cheeks and hair, fingers shyly exploring, afraid to break the moment he’d been waiting for for so long. It was only a shame it had to be in these circumstances.

When breathing became more important than kissing, you pulled away and Bruce pulled you against his chest. You breathed him in, the smell of cologne and bodywash and something so inherently Bruce calming you down almost instantly.

“Please don’t leave me,” You whispered, gripping his shirt as if it was the only thing keeping you alive right now. And maybe it was. You needed him.

“I wouldn’t even dream of it,” he whispered back, kissing your forehead. “And I’ll fix this. We will fix this.”

“What if he comes after me? He’s a very respected doctor, Bruce, I – I don’t want him to hurt you or anything.”

This caused Bruce to chuckle and pull you back to look at your face. Even with a terrible bruise covering your features, you were the most beautiful women he’d ever laid eyes on. Your courage and kindness only added to that charm. What a lucky guy he was.

“I don’t usually brag about my status, but I happen to be Bruce Wayne. I’ll take care of him. I promise. You won’t have to worry about anything.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. He won’t be able to hurt you anymore.”

You smiled. Bruce loved your smile.

“Do you want to get some sleep?” he asked, caressing the side of your cheek that wasn’t bruised. “I can sleep in one of the guest rooms. My bed is quite comfortable, you can stay there. Unless you want to stay somewhere else? I won’t force you to stay here.”

You shook your head.

“Here is fine. Although…”

“Yes? I’ll do anything.”

A blush crept up on your features.

“I… I don’t want to be alone tonight. I can’t.”

Bruce nodded.

“Do you want me to stay with you?”

“Please.”

Bruce gave you a soft look, a quiet question, asking for your permission. You answered it by lifting your arms and allowing him to pick you up and carry you to his bedroom. He laid you down on his bed, and you sighed at how comfortable it was. He smiled. You looked content as you adjusted, getting under the covers.

“Are you going to join me or just stare at me like that?”

“I’m just happy you’re here. Safe, with me,” he said. “I’m sorry the circumstances were… not the best.”

“I’m here now, though, aren’t I? And so are you.”

“I am. I’m not going anywhere.”

Bruce moved and laid down next to you, pulling the covers over himself. “Can I?” he asked. You nodded, and he wrapped an arm around you, bringing you close to his chest. Your bodies fit perfectly together, like two pieces of a puzzle that had come together at last. You entwined your legs with his and rested your head on his chest while his arms snaked around you, protecting you even in your sleep. The beat of his heart soothed you and lulled you to slumber in an instant.

Before you lost conscience, you felt Bruce’s lips move against your head, and made out a soft “I love you”.

It was the best you’d ever slept.

It was hard adjusting to live after that, but Bruce was there for you every step of the way.

You finally filed a report against Nathan. It was tough, and you cried and doubted yourself when you gave your statement, but with Bruce by your side, you felt like you could do it. He reminded you of how brave you really were, and how much you could accomplish – with him or without him. But you liked his company anyway.

Thanks to Bruce’s resources, an investigation was conducted. You’d kept records of nearly every time the two of you fought in your diary, and even photographed every bruise he’d given you. He did not know of this, of course. You did it whenever he was asleep, a small voice in your head telling you it’d be useful to bring him down.

Apparently that little voice had been right, and your pictures were essential for the investigation.

Your friends testified in your favour, and you had cried when they’d hugged you after, congratulating you on your bravery, and lamenting what you’d gone through. You’d missed them so much.

All seemed like it was going in the right direction.

Your old apartment had been cleared, and although you’d gotten a place of your own (Bruce told you he did not want you to feel like you had to move in with him simply because he was helping you out and you two were in the beginning of a relationship), you found yourself spending more time at Bruce’s manor than your own house, and you quickly sold it in order to move in with him.

Everything was going perfectly.

You felt happy – more than ever – going about your daily job, meeting with friends for coffee and lunch and walks on the park without being berated or yelled at. Bruce supported you on every endeavour you went on, encouraging you to spend time with your friends and go out with them, instead of keeping you home all to himself like Nathan did.

In fact, Bruce was the perfect boyfriend. He’d bring you breakfast in bed sometimes, offer you rides to your job, bring you flowers when he could tell you’d had a hard day, and even when he had to cancel date nights or other plans you two had made because of some last minute emergency at Wayne Enterprises, he made it up to you later, with lots of love and reassurance, perhaps a bouquet of flowers and a ticket to whatever event you’d been interested in.

Bruce reminded you of what love felt like. True love. He never raised his voice at you, opting to voice out his concerns in a calming manner. He never made you feel like you weren’t worthy of him – quite the contrary. Every single day, he thanked you for choosing him, letting you know just how lucky he was to have you in his life.

Alfred liked you too – very much. He adopted you as his family rather quickly, teaching you how to make your favourite drinks (even better than you used to do them), and spending time with you whenever Bruce wasn’t home, and you felt particularly lonely. He liked having you around. In his opinion, “Master Wayne was in need of a woman’s touch in his house and his life”. You couldn’t agree more and loved him immensely.

There was only one time you crossed paths with Nathan after you’d left him that night.

The Gotham Police had gathered enough information and evidence to build a case against him, and you’d been called to testify. You weren’t sure you wanted to do it – you were still scared of whatever he could do to you.

That day, Bruce sat you down on his lap, kissed your forehead and promised Nathan wouldn’t even be able to touch you, and that he and your friends would be there.

It was all the reassurance you needed, and although you choked back a sob once or twice once your gaze met his, your testimony was clear and strong, and it was enough for the trial to be wrapped up in around two days (and perhaps Bruce had pulled a few strings to get it over it so quickly, but you didn’t need to know that, now did you?)

As he was being handcuffed, Nathan turned to you, face twisted in agony.

“Babe – “ he yelled, doing his best to free himself from the police officers’ grips. “I’m so sorry – tell them this is just a misunderstanding! Tell them! I love you so much, fuck, don’t let them do this to me!”

When it was obvious you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of an answer, he furrowed his eyebrows.

“You slut! You stupid bitch! I bet you’re fucking him, aren’t you? You’re fucking the rich bastard, aren’t you? I knew it! You’re a slut – you’re disgusting! No one will ever love you as I loved you, you’re a slut now, and you’ll be a slut fore – “

Bruce’s fist collided with Nathan’s face, promptly shutting him the fuck up. He adjusted his cuffs and his blazer and offered you a doe-eyed look.

“I didn’t do anything. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Officers, I’ll be sure to guarantee you all a very nice Christmas bonus if you keep this little incident in between us.”

The excited nods from the officers around him were enough of an answer for him to walk away unscathed. That, and your giggles.

“Couldn’t stand hearing him go on and on about you like that,” he’d muttered to you lately as you cuddled up together on the couch and watched a movie.

That was the last you saw and heard of Nathan. You’d heard Bruce tell Alfred that he was going to be locked up for eternity one day, and while it was suspicious (surely it wouldn’t warrant him a life sentence, would it?), the thought of Bruce using his influence to put your abusive ex-boyfriend behind bars forever made you smile.

Right now, you were sitting on top of a plaid picnic blanket in the gardens of Wayne Manor. On your right hand was a book, on your left hand the chocolate brown curls of your boyfriend, whose head was resting on top of your lap.

You had never felt so at peace with yourself.

Your physical scars had faded, bruises had healed, leaving your soft skin as it once was, but you were sure the emotional ones would remain. Luckily, you had the best boyfriend in the world to aid you in every step of the way.

His voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“You’re beautiful,” he mumbled, eyes closed. This was one of his favourite things to do – lay on your lap after a hard week and relax under the sun. It was one of your favourites as well. You got to spend time with the person you loved the most and remind yourself that even though your life was so dark once, it could get better. It was getting better.

“You’re not so bad yourself, handsome.”

“Not so bad?”

“Fine. You’re the most handsome man I have ever seen in my entire life.”

“Hmm. That’s a lot of responsibility.” He raised an eyebrow.

“I think you’ll manage.”

Bruce chuckled and lifted his head up ever so slightly. You rolled your eyes with a smile. How needy. Bending down, you met him halfway, kissing him tenderly. His tongue swept over your lower lip, and you sighed contentedly before he pulled away and closed his eyes.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Bruce. So much.”

Yes.

Everything was going to be better.

A/N: And that's it! Oh my god what a rollercoaster hahaha! I hope you guys enjoyed this! I understand all abusive relationships are different - a lot of this came from my own experience.

I also hope the ending, the little epilogue wasn't too rushed! I wanted it to be a nice conclusion, not dwelling too much on the past, but rather focusing on the hope of the future.

Alright, this is all! I think I'll take a break from Bruce fics for a while, hahaha. Once again, I really do hope you all enjoyed this.

Have a wonderful day ahead! <3

[an-au-blog]

Just craving fluff and imagining College Au Shuggy celebrating the holidays by just doing very unchristmassy things together. They both seem like the type to like certain aspects of Christmas only to then be hit by waves of depression when the actual holiday arrives, so they just huddle under the covers together and watch Christmas classics such as “Die hard” or Gremlins together instead while eating Pizza and drinking eggnog till they can’t stand this stuff for another year. Buggy gives Shanks his gift at 2 am in the morning, an extremely ugly and old tacky sweater he found at a thrift shop a while ago. Shanks can immediately tell that it was cheap and Buggy most likely just went out and got him… SOMETHING, but also it’s hideous in a way he just adores and it has one of his favorite childhood cartoon characters on it and the fact alone Buggy went out and got him something is PERFECT and to Buggy’s horror that thing is gonna be his favorite sweater till the end of time. Buggy on the other hand suffers a mild mental breakdown and “Oh god I am the scum of the earth” reaction because Shanks actually went into a makeup store and got him an expensive eyeshadow Palette that Buggy has been eyeing for a while now. Kicker is Shanks didn’t even know that’s the Palette Buggy wanted, he legit just spent an hour in there with a picture of Buggy describing what Buggy looks for in makeup and what colors he likes and such and such and accidentally just landed on the correct one and rightfully deducted that he would probably like this one.

“WHY DID YOU GO AHEAD AND BUY ME THAT YOU HORRIBLE, UNFLASHY FANTASTIC BOYFRIEND?!” “I thought it would make you happy.” “IT WOULD IF I GOTTEN YOU ANYTHING GOOD AS WELL!! JUST A BED BATH AND BEYOND GIFTCARD WOULD HAVE BEEN WORSE!!” “Come on Buggy I love this thing-“ “THIS IS LIKE GIFT OF THE MAGI IF IT SUCKED EVEN MORE THAN IT ALREADY DOES!” “You could always kiss me to make up for it.” “I ALREADY DO THAT.” “Then let me kiss you… AND you’ll have to let me do it for the entire day without telling me I’m being sappy or disagreeing with me when I talk about how much I love you.” “…. Okay but you’re not allowed to say weird shit about my nose.” “…Can I kiss your nose?” “Ugh. I’ll allow it. But not in public!” “Deal. I won’t talk about how cute and kissable your nose is and I especially won’t talk about how cute and kissable it is in front of other people.” “YOU JUST- AUGH! You’re horrible! An absolutely awful boyfriend!” “Glad to have landed someone as amazing as you then.” “You-“ “Ah! We agreed on not disagreeing when I talk about how great you are!” “….fine.” “I love you... and I love how hard you blush when you can’t answer with a sassy comeback” “….mmmmnnnggghh!!! loveyoutoo.”

At first I was like "awww this is so adorable:')" but thwn I got to the dialogue part and went "ok, so we're assuming they're gonna get together, now are we ahahah"

I'm guessing you're the same anon who sent me a couple other college au asks - so first off: Thank you, you honestly keep me productive and remind me to finish this fic lol (since I named some of the others, maybe I can call you ogan - bc og anon or something idk, you can refuse or give me another nickname if you want...)

But also... have I given any indication that this will be a story with a happy end? Because, I've written ends with a doomed one sided love triangle, one of the main characters being hated by the love of their life and in a hospital, while the one the other was chasing rejected them indefinitely... it was my magnum opus for quite a while, so who's to say I'll give this one an ending like that?

I'm joking, I'm joking... or am I >;]]]

Anyway, I love the idea of them spending the holidays together! Buggy doesn't really have any close relatives to go to, all his friends went home, and thinks that Shanks is the same way, because why else would he stay behind with him?

Shanks is just so happy that he can finally be with his boyfriend. He makes hot cocoa (and it's horrible, but Buggy remakes it), he buys a cardboard cutout of a Christmas tree and they put stickers on it instead of decorations. At one point they start printing out memes and pictures of themselves and stick them on there as well. (Shanks secretly writes a wish, something cheesey like how he wants them to be like this for the rest of their lives, on the back of some of the photos)

In all reality, I believe that "Die Hard" and "Home Alone" (because these two franchises are basically the same, just one is kid coded lol) would be both Shanks and Buggy's favourites. I mean look at how they turned out ahahaha tho I must confess, I've never seen Gremlins, so I'll just trust you on that one':)

I also think thay Buggy would get horrible gifts very purposefully. Like he would look for hours to find the most raggedy and washed out looking sweater with the ugliest print of like... a green cow on red mars with a Christmas hat on both the cow and mars saying "moo-ry christmas" in comic sans or something horrifying like that. Like that one video of the guy who bought a card for the wrong occasion, for wrote a message to someone else and scratched out the name to look like it was a second hand card. I couldn't find the og video but I found this tiktok, hope it helps with the explanation.

In my mind Buggy thinks it's hilarious. Him and Shanks both love pranks and just jokes like this in general, so he would get it, right? Shanks liking it unironically wasn't in the plan. But then bad comes to worse and Shanks takes gift giving seriously - Buggy is caught off guard.

I love the image of Shanks standing in the cosmetics section of a big store that was one of the best according to google. He's just staring intensely, and color checking, and googling, and staring again - trying his best to remember everything Buggy had told him about make-up.

At some moment in the time he's searching, one of the workers there goes up to him to see if he needs help thinking "aw, poor lost man looking for something for his girlfriend, he looks like he needs help" and then Shanks shows her a picture of an honest to God clown going "I want the best for my boyfriend". And they have a little "This is your man?" "yeah" "Look at the picture" "that's mine :')" "and you're ok with this?" "imma stick beside him " moment. And then they just start looking together. Before they notice it's a whole horde of helpers and Shanks going all, "is that teal? I think he said he loves teal, but not one with glitter, wait, bring back the cherry red. Can you compare it to the sour cherry. Which one would match his lipstick best? This one's his favorite." and they're like a council, super invested at that point.

I also like to think that on new years eve, they're watching a marathon, and Buggy just falls asleep on Shanks's chest halfway through. He does that often and Shanks loves it. He doesn't even care that much that sometimes his make-up would be imprinted on his shirt .

Shanks showing love to Buggy's nose, despite his insecurities, makes me melt. (spoilers ig:) I was going to have a little dialogue/confrontation that portrayed that, but I was going to make it a "Shanks not caring about it and just acting like it's not there" thing, but him actually thinking it's cute and being all loving towards the one thing he's most insecure about is actually way better. I might utilize it later on lol :))

[joyflameball]

Do you have a Frenrey fic recommendations masterlist? I need them for emotional support and to feed my hyperfixation <3

Breaks my knuckles yes

A lot of this is pulled from my bookmarks, which you can peruse for more. I need to read the rest of my fanfics in my tabs, I have so many, fucking help

First and foremost: FUCKING Disconnect. Premise is "Gordon is touch starved and derealized out of his mind and Benrey gives him a hug and there is crying and emotions." It's actually the fic that got me into HLVRAI in the first place! My friend sent it to me like "I know you're not into HLVRAI but I think you'd like this" and it was right. And now I'm stuck here. It's 7k words

All Fools On Deck! Based on @/melonsharks's pirate AU (not tagging them because i don't wanna be annoying), which is exactly what it sounds like. HLVRAI but they're pirates. It's got a load of feels and the sillys and they're so the most, it's 48k words and it just pirate-ifies HLVRAI and I love it sooo much

secure and guard. Post-canon, Benrey's keeping an eye on Gordon but really doesn't wanna go near him because he doesn't wanna hurt him he's protecting him and it causes chemicals in my brain, 4k

bad dreams and soft things, Benrey has a nightmare of Black Mesa and gets comforted and gay kissing and this has one of my favorite paragraphs related to kissing ever it's so soft....... 3k words

top ten benrey fancam moments #1, THIS ONE'S JUST PURE FLUFF BENREY SNUGGLES INTO GORDON'S SWEATER WHILE HE'S STREAMING AND IT'S SO UNBELIEVABLY CUTE HELP HE'S SO CUDDLY THIS MAKES ME VIOLENT It's also 1,069 words which I find funny

Love, Benry and its sequel, Love, Gordon, Gordon finds Benrey's diary and learns ohh shit Benrey's not a heartless monster he's actually FULL OF LOVE and in the sequel there is gay kissing. About 5k words together

because you're like a fever dream but twice as sweet! Logic version: Benrey gets infected by Xen and might genuinely die, content warning for one scene where Benrey's a tad a smidge a bit kinda very suicidal. Emotional version: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Sleep Over, Benrey hibernates and Gordon is in soooo much denial about how gay he is. It's 2.5k words

Pretty much anything Antilocapra writes. Fuckin bangers all the way. I haven't read a few of them due to brain weirdness, but judging by the rest of their fics they're most definitely spectacular. I'm gonna recommend a few specific fics because

Speechless. Holy SHIT. SPEECHLESS. Basically, Gordon loses his voice, canon diverges from there. It recently finished up, and it's REALLY GOOD. The way canon changes is SO GOOD. Bubby is in HELL. CHAPTER FUCKING EIGHT. It's one of those fics that I wanna just like. Make fanart for every chapter. It's about 50k

One Man's Trash. Not a game AU, it's a Frenrey meet-cute and Benrey meets Gordon because he's rummaging in his trash like the fucking creature he is. They can both be creatures, as a treat. Benrey's very gay. About 3k

Alien Abduction, in which Benrey gets kidnapped by the government and is really chill, he gives Gordon military to kill for enrichment and he is so fucking silly. 7k

I was gonna recommend a lot more but I need to hold myself back just you get the gist read Antilo's fics

Uhhhhh and now I recommend my own fics because I can be egotistical if I so wish!! AND I DO SO WISH!!!! /ref

My absolute magnum opus so far: You're still here, and you're beautiful to me. It's got a fuckload of angst, read the content warnings, be careful and take caution. Benrey respawns after Xen, and none of his injuries have healed. And he's kinda very mentally fucked. Again, read the content warnings. I'm really proud of it, I feel it balances humor and angst well, and there's this one conversation that I'm really fuckin proud of. It's 20k words

This one that I didn't name, Benrey's agoraphobic and chronically depressed and runs into Gordon in a grocery store and reunion, I'm so fucking happy I wrote it I can write now, it's 4k

As long as your heart continues to beat. Gordon Fucking Dies that's all I'm gonna say lmao. 3k

If ten million fireflies lit up the world as I fell asleep. I swear to god I don't just write angst, Benrey is full of love, they're gaymers, they have a gay chicken relationship, there's stars, 4k words

Cuddles are the best cure for depression actually, this is my shortest and honestly sweetest fic, they're cuddly because Benrey has depression LOOK AT MY BENREY HAS DEPRESSION HEADCANON BOY about 1k

also (un)forgettable is pretty good and i should read it but the horrors i'm so sorry dims my energy is in the negatives help girl /silly

[chikaoofka]

🖊 VINCENT AND MAKIIIIIIII

HGRK GOIGN IN FOR THE KILL IMEEDIATELY OKAY.......... I SEE HOW IT IS....................../silly

im like debating on what 2 say for vincent hes jus tlike hes he . hes he he. okay but anyways i guess it's less VINCENT and more characters so inherently related TO vincent its like might as well? but that guy he dreams about i named him i gave him a personality a design. yet he will never see the light of day because his name gives me psychic damage but at the same time i DO have an alternate name....? but im so torn. but that is a fun fact . also i lied about him never seeing the light of day he will see it just this once. a peek through the oubliette's bars or whatever (*specifically like the dream version because its cooler

also, a more vincent-y fun fact: hes like dodging chamption #1 in netzachs floor because fun fact! hes on netzachs floor, which was an accident mind you. i didnt mean for that to happen (i dont think????) but like it fits (<- random but i think i found out WHY vincent vdl was on netzachs floor. ok storytime i used to have a character named vincent, no relation to vincent vdl nor the vdl, but i like grew 2 hate him after i read the void dream logs because like i could never make vincent vdl without it being THIS vincent. then i DESTROYED him sent him to the deepest pits of hell and made vincent vdl in his place and also that other vincent happened to be in netzachs floor because he was 'vincent from safety' or something. do with all of that what you will. he was also ugly as hell. here;s a pic)

this art is so

literally dont remember the art being this bad but like whatever i guess i drew this like a year ago???

anyways i cough. he nigh soloed alriune llike the idk dodging champion he is. that is all i was supposed to say

anyways ======= maki =========

UHHH UHH MAKI.........THE LOBSTER........ i guess i will like i dont knowe. talk about like backstory or something. so like i have a corp a district, district 19, Symbiosis Corporation, they make test tube babies and im still trying to think of a good singularity but like yeah and they like animals a lot and like so many of my characters are from district 19 which also in tandem means theyre all British i didnt think this through i just thorught it would be funny i didnt expect to have consequences. anyways so like maki is the first in a line of like really Really specific babies 2 actually like LIVE and everyone was like WOOO YEAH FUCKJIGN FINALLY and then they fuckedthem up irreversibly (<- albeit accidentally but like letting the bastards who only know how to experiment care for the like magnum opus of your corp was not a good idea mr "dr freeman " (<- sigh he's the guy who made symcorp .ya he's cool? ) but at least they dont know fear shame or.... sadness so a win in my book ithink.

also i remembered actually what i actually wanted to talk about ? ?? ? the fact theyre like undead ????? because thats something. originally explained by the original symcorp singularity, which was baiscally Living Juice, it could revive you but then i was like no man thats kinda fucked. like thats TOO much. so i scrapped it so now maki is just too indecisive to die. or too silly. either or . for the longest time i debated with myself about maki's actual like... state of life, in a sense, like are they TRULY alive? and like.... i mean they're SAPIENT. that's close enough to being Alive. right. anyways another fun fact before i like actually end this i think its too long? but them being dead is like the only reason why samuel is in the "main friend group" of ocs . cuz . um . he can see ghosts? maki was ghost once. also wait. FINAL FUN FACT I SWEAR i hope you know the way maki died (the first time) was due to me not understanding that +200 stats from you must be happy will like make that employee Disappear. but yeah i got like a million stats for maki on the second? day and they disappeared and i was so sad that i immediately remade them the next day. which is why they are 1. still an oc and 2. like a zombie????????? like ???? rose from the dead? ????? a rotting corpse ?????? yeah :3

[ssoulsearcher]

Blog #1 Letting a "dream" die.

As I am writing this and gather my thoughts on this personal post. I am writing this on the table I had set up for myself months ago in mi hogar , in fact during the fall of 2022. This table was to help me figure to create a space for deep focus on my goals. I had taken the time to create something called the Vanitas project. It is a basic map to help me guide which goals I needed to complete first before doing the others. Set one is the foundation of the goals but also the most hardest. First set was to lose weight , improve on my artistic skills and Spanish comprehension. The goal of Project Vanitas is to to help keep mis metas in line and focus rather than jumping around confused. But there was a mistake on this project: It's personal. There is no professional deadline. 13 year old me would beg to differ-Why include XYZ if Crystal is the priority?

The origin of my goals can be traced back when I was younger. Lets refer this version of myself as Ally. Ally represents my inner child and the origins of the first goal when I was 12. Most of the goals set here have a foundation- to one day publish the story of Crystal my first ever OC. Ally loved her despite how flawed Crystal was. Crystal had 100+ powers, transformations, anime husbandos AKA a Mary Sue. She would envision many moments of putting Crystal in pain, tears or happiness whatever Ally liked. Up until she grabbed a pencil and paper. Ally went on a journey to draw just to turn her creation to life. 85% of the stuff she drew was of Crystal. Crystal was a soul and alive.

The Mary Sue had many revisions and so did Ally's style. Ally improved her anatomy her style and before she knew it she could draw hands. Ally's priorities were just to draw all the time and maintain straight A's which were a piace of cake, until she met boys aka relationshiippsss. There was Boy 1, the sweetheart. Boy 2, what was I thinking? Boy 3... boy number 3.

Drawing and Crystal became secondary. Her grades were still great. Despite the change in Ally's focus, her creativity stayed the same till boy #3. Hay caramba, Boy #3 met me back in 2018. But he never met Ally. Back in late 2017, I had shifted went to a trade school under a graphic design program. And in the first time in my life I felt like I knew were I had to navigate my life. I was gonna go to college and earn an associates degree in graphic design and eventually publish Crystal's story as a comic. The portfolio mattered more than the degree and I was at my panicle of creativity and art. Art was now something I was doing seriously and for fun. I gotten praise from my mentors and eventually got a scholarship for a local college. Ally was fully present at her graphic design program. She fully bloomed her portfolio in to an magnum opus, until she had her great, unfortunate fall.

Ally was present during the first 6-7 months with Boy # 3. After that, I don't know what to call myself during the remaining time frame. It was just a cycle of my self-neglection that was attributed from Boy #3. During that time I abandoned my core beliefs all for a selfish stupid boy. Thankfully the cycle breaks. Instead of telling myself lies, my core-truths kicked in and we started arguing. The tip of the iceberg broke by a text from him. Telling me that I could do so much more in life and that he was holding me back. I didn't believe that text until a month later. In that month included, he did what every melodramatic boy does in soap operas- " I AM SO SORRY I MISSED YOU BLAH BLAH BLAH."

I focused on myself with Panera and the gym. The only things I had along with my mother to support me. The break up was in the October of 2020, 1.5 years after I graduated and 6 months after the college I was going to attend shut down.

At this point I accepted that I had no direction in that moment of my life. This brought me to my current self. Spring of 21, middle of the pandemic, I spent 13 dollars on Bumble and found a bee. A bee that gave me the happiest 2 years of my life. Ally still wasn't present. The feeling I felt post-break up with Boy #3 was "forged Passion". I was trying to force myself to draw when Ally wasn't present and despised staring at a canvas for so long I didn't create anything . She represented my inner-child but she was also my muse. Which would explain the many times I had mini-life crisis and doubts of what I wanted to do long term during my current relationship. " I don't know what to do", "Should I learn a trade", etc etc. I was bouncing between careers. Ally as a muse died when I was a few months into my last relationship. On May 20th of this year I laid Ally to rest which was also the dream of pursuing a graphic design career.

I fell in love with the idea to move to Europe and hopefully attend college-not sure what I will pursue- there after my spouse finishes with his studies. So I thought about studying German. I didn't feel sad for changing my dream because I can't force myself to be an old version of me. Change was inevitable. Letting go of an idea I built upon more than half my time here alive was never a bad ending. It was much much needed after having doubts for 2 years of what the next stepping stone of my life would be. All that I know patience will allow me to embrace this next chapter of mine.

Project Vanitas needs some adjustments because the core is still the same. Crystal is still around, her story will continue to evolve and adjust as I do. One day she will be out and about either as a web comic or novel. That I do not know yet. I'll continue to improve my Spanish and exercise but not draw seriously; only as a hobby.

Requiesce in pace my muse.

[charmixpower]

So I remembered

this dress that Stella designed and that got me thinking about what kinds of clothes Stella would make in my own hcs and:

I'm thinking like these

Lots of cut out in increasingly weird places

So much see though and sheer fabric that you wonder if you can wear these outfits in public

Shiny shiny fabrics or sparkly fabrics because obviously who ever is wearing her dress has to light up a room or it isn't a Shining Stella outfit

And texture!!! I don't think Stella is a huge fan of wearing very textured outfits herself but I think she'd love designing them just because their so interesting and fun—when Bloom comes along this becomes 10 times worse because Bloom LOVES textured outfits and they are fueling each other

I don't think you'd ever catch Stella designing something with white, black, beige, or any other neutral tone unless she can spice it up! Everything is colors, colors, colors! At pretty high saturations too bc Stella doesn't blend in baby!!

I think Stella would be one of those designers where half of her outfits are something you'd die to own and the other half seem completely unwearable bc their so avant garde....she'd probably have a shape era in her fashion kfjejr bless her soul

I think she'd also design outfits for her friends but these would be VERY toned down compared to her usual stuff because she knows that her friends would be uncomfortable in her normal designs

She also very clearly has designs based on her friends

Like Flora gets her into long flowy full body gowns, Tecna makes her go crazy with structured gowns (and causes her shape era RIP), Bloom as I mentioned makes her go full texture, Aisha makes her concider dresses that are both easy to move in and look cute (Stella is the type of person who likes mermaid gowns. I don't understand why she would but she does), Musa gets her into dresses with multiple pieces/parts

I think she'd really pride herself on designing outfits unique to each of her friends that look and feel good for each of them individually as like her Magnum opus. If she can't make outfits that make her friends happy is she even doing this fashion thing right??

Like I think she'd be genuinely ashamed of something that they all didn't love (maybe the s3 rain coats bc that was a choice, I know it wasn't technically designed by her but she was the one informing the outfits. Physically stopping myself from saying s4 Band or Love and pet because those don't exist actually) and this would happen early into the seasons and then she'd hit them with like the s4 Explorer outfits and they all be like "omg Stella these are gorgeous, we love you" and she'd die of happiness

That would really shape her design philosophy because she'd stop exclusively designing outfits that she'd wear and start concidering other styles and things she never thought of before

Stella would go to Zenith and see all the shoulder pads (yes this is a Zenith thing now bc I said so) and weird 80s esq make up and have a fucking field day

In short:

Runway fashion: Bright, colorful. Half of the time too much for a normal person to wear, other half drop dead gorgeous

For her friends: low key, but pops. Still colorful but much more muted as these are dresses/outfits she wants her friends to be able to wear at things other than party's. Incorporates additional accessories like belts and such that aren't found in her usual stuff

[nox-artemis]

Kentaro Miura

It took me awhile to get my thoughts in order. Honestly, as well intentioned as they are, a constant stream of fan tributes on Twitter and Tumblr more-or-less telling me how to process “The End” of Berserk with Miura’s death didn’t do a lot to console me, so I had to take some huge steps away from social media and only conversed my feelings with my other close Berserk fan-friends.

It was very surreal waking up yesterday morning to a friend messaging me simply saying, “did you hear the news?” When shit like that happens, I go onto my Google stories app and scroll through. I didn’t find anything really worth getting too upset over (maybe a bit sad that Queen Elizabeth II’s doggo died?) so it hit me to check my Twitter feed instead.

And that’s when I saw it.

We all know death is inevitable, and life is pretty much spent prolonging the point to that inevitability as well as preparing ourselves for when it happens to us or someone close to us. Being part of the Berserk fandom was the only time we all collectively had this on our mind not only for someone else but for someone we never met or really knew that much about. We only knew Miura through his magnum opus – and that was good enough for us. And no matter how much we discussed the worst-case scenario – pondering how the story would continue and how WE would continue – it still wasn’t enough to prepare us for this amount of shock. Hearing Miura had died and that the Berserk we know and love under his direct supervision is over truly felt like losing a long-lost friend.

It wasn’t just that the Berserk we know of is “over”, but that Miura didn’t have to die. He was only 54: not a young age, but not an old age either, especially by today’s standards. He could have seen the end to his magnum opus the way he envisioned it, yet he died of something so avoidable but is only brought about by a great deal of stress (from what I’ve read). It was always a morbid open rumor that so many of Miura’s infamous hiatuses were actually mental and/or physical health breaks, so the older or more conscious of us fans, while always eager and anxious for a new chapter, learned to not take them so personally. Miura was a spellbinding artist and storyteller, but he was also a human with his own life and conflicts that he was entitled to address at his own pace. This isn’t meant to blame anyone (at the very least, maybe to address some societal/industry issues), but it’s troubling enough to remind everyone – as the story of Berserk has demonstrated – that you need to take care of yourself physically and mentally, and while everyone struggles in life, you don’t have to struggle alone.

I always despised this weird cult of youth that insinuates that life isn’t worth pursuing once you hit your mid-thirties, and how some people so engulfed in their youth insist that they wouldn’t mind dying by the age of 50 or 60. It’s a shame when people live by that because there’s so much to live for beyond your youth – as I’ve learned, I only started buckling down when I transitioned into my thirties. Miura could have had a longer life ahead of him, going beyond Berserk and into his other endeavors, professional and personal, but that will unfortunately never happen now.

Everyone knows I have a lot of thoughts and opinions on Berserk. Most of you found out about me through my blogging several years ago, and I’m pretty proud that I was never the sort of fan that groveled at Miura’s feet and treated Berserk as some untouchable holy book: there were things I disliked about Berserk and things that disappointed me about Miura’s writing, but there were SO MANY MORE THINGS that I loved about Berserk and was proud of Miura for, and I wished him to continue his advancement in narrative growth. He did so and we watched it happened.

And, by meeting so many friends and acquaintances through the fandom, we saw a lot in ourselves change too. It’s surreal how we always joked that it would be one of us fans who would die before Berserk ended or the worst-case scenario of Miura dying; maybe some of us secretly preferred for that happen. But when we weren’t waiting around for another chapter… look at how much we’ve done with our lives! We graduated high school, undergrad, grad school, started and advanced our careers, traveled the world, got together, popped out a kid or two!... And while we experienced a lot of downfalls and tragedies that coincide, can you believe how much we have accomplished together?

We were all personally inspired, motivated, persuaded by Berserk in different ways: a lot of us were inspired for the better and admittedly, some for the not-as-good (if spending countless hours on Tumblr has taught me, there were definitely some toxic fan takeaways that had to be confronted). I’m not going to go to the point of saying that I now live my life by Berserk’s philosophy to a T or live as a reflection of certain characters (because I’m pretty sure that Miura was trying to tell us to NOT live your life like some particular characters) but it certainly helped to brings some aspects of life and existence into perspective, through the lenses of so many characters. Berserk also inspired me to write more, an already favorite pastime of mine, and how I should go about writing and planning a story, taking cues from Berserk on how to and how NOT to write and approach things in my own way, which I think is for the best in the long run. I can only dream that I’ll be published someday – which doesn’t have to be a pipe dream because it’s still much more possible than impossible. And so many other have done the same, creating our own stories and works.

And OF COURSE Berserk inspired me to be a little bit badass from time to time in moments of frivolity and seriousness – but it reminds us all that being badass and being a kinder person who tries to become the best version of themselves are not mutually exclusive. We definitely need more of that in today’s world.

We all made our own little bonfires of dreams happen, and because of Berserk existing, there will be a lot more beginnings than endings, and I don’t see a lot of bonfires being extinguished anytime soon. Miura poured his heart and soul into Berserk and its characters, and while he has passed on, his characters and lessons will live on through us and everything we create and how we live our lives (hopefully for the better).

I was happy to share all of my thoughts with you all – and I’ll continue to do so, since the mythos of Berserk has been a major backdrop of my creative mind for over fifteen years now and there is still so much to dissect and speculate. Personally, I don’t see Berserk ending just yet, if only because I’d be surprised that Miura or his publisher didn’t have some Operation London Bridge type plan in place in the event that this happened (Berserk is, after all, a major title that most likely brings Young Animal a lot of revenue). Again, I never treated Miura or Berserk as divine untouchables, so if there are plans in place to continue Berserk without Miura (BUT with his permission) or just on how to wrap up the story to give it a fulfilling conclusion, I personally would be okay with it (as a friend of mine put it, it’d be more of a tribute than an imitation). Going beyond our lifetimes, works will continue to be interpreted and reinterpreted as they have since time immemorial; perhaps Berserk will reach that point someday.

Honestly, and many have thought so too, Berserk was also meant to be cosmic level in both scale and concept. The plot is so grand and Byzantine that, even under Miura’s direct supervision, I always had a hard time envisioning how a story of this scale would conclude. As much as we love to hate him, a final showdown between Guts and Griffith seems too simple, too “good vs. evil”-esque for Berserk. Maybe having a low-key, vague but optimistic and bittersweet wrap up is what is best for Guts, Casca, and their new-found family. But that’s just another one of my fan speculations.

Regardless or what is to become of Berserk now, I think it’s safe to give adulations. We all came across Berserk at different times in our lives and stuck with the story for different reasons. For some of us, it was just another series that our friend from the campus anime club recommended to us; for others, we were drawn in from a morbid curiosity of its dark notoriety in anime circles. A few of us read for the gratuitous violence and the clout (because we all know you’re so deep and hardcore [/sar]), but a lot more of us read for the journey and the characters that we became a part of. The heaviness of Berserk made us confront a lot of trauma and even relive our own. For some of us, understandably, it was not a good idea to dive deeper (and maybe somethings could have been handled better); for the rest of us, it helped us cope, if not entirely through the story itself, than through the support network we made for ourselves in this fandom and its many realms (some realms, I argue, are more caring and nurturing than others).

From time to time, I always wonder if I would ever “grow out” of Berserk. There were indeed several times I took a step away from fandom and have tried to reduce my exposure to the story - but I always came back in some way, because the essence of Berserk has never left me and never will. Humorously I envisioned myself actually forgetting about Berserk for several decades, decades in which I work at my career, raise my family, mourn my elders, but continue living my life, only to go on the future internet in my mid-50s to find out… Miura is STILL working on that ending, sitting at his desk in the same pose as that famous monochrome capture of him, only he’s grayed and wrinkled, like the great Miyazaki.

The possibility of that future is over, but there are so many others.

[passionate-reply]

Passionate Reply is back, and taking a look at one of the best known and most influential albums in industrial history: Nine Inch Nails’ Pretty Hate Machine! Transcript of the video below the break.

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! Today, it’s finally time to discuss arguably the best known industrial musician of all time, and his debut album: this is Pretty Hate Machine, by Nine Inch Nails. Released in 1989, it is, technically, an “80s album,” but given how stylistically influential it would become on the music of the 1990s, it’s hard to think of it as a product of the preceding decade. Still, it’s worth remembering that this album came out almost fifteen years into the history of industrial, and Nine Inch Nails’ Trent Reznor has never denied his indebtedness to, and appreciation of, the genre’s 80s pioneers, like Coil and Skinny Puppy. Pretty Hate Machine didn’t go down in history for being the very first industrial album, but rather for being the first one that most people actually heard--particularly, in Reznor’s native America. What really set Nine Inch Nails apart, then and now, is Reznor’s ability to marry those harsh textures and machine beats with a real knack for that most elusive of songwriting goals: the pop hook.

Music: “Head Like a Hole”

Pretty Hate Machine’s unforgettable opener, “Head Like a Hole,” is the track on the album that you’re most likely to have encountered before, and sits just behind “Hurt” and “Closer” in the ranking of the best-known Nine Inch Nails songs. There’s not a whole lot to say about it, musically, that hasn’t already been said--each of its three parts have that devilishly catchy quality about them, and despite its underlying electronic structure, inspired by European EBM, it’s got just enough rock credibility to appeal to American audiences. It wasn’t a huge pop hit, of course, but I think it’s easy to hear how and why it earned its acclaim, and high rotation on MTV.

As far as the lyrics are concerned, I’m always happy to listen to an anti-capitalist jam, especially when it comes to industrial, but I feel like that lends a weird tension to “Head Like a Hole.” Reznor wants to sell us his denouncement of “God Money” and the relentless hunger of capital, but using such an approachable, or marketable, pop formula forces us to question its sincerity. Despite industrial music’s deep roots in counter-cultural values, the sociopolitical commentary of the album doesn’t dig any deeper than “Head Like a Hole”’s vague indignance at being controlled by something-or-other. While I won’t argue that artists ever “owe” anybody more political art, Trent Reznor popularized a style of music that began as an expression of working-class struggles on another continent, partly by stripping away most of the truly subversive commentary, so I can’t say I don’t understand why many die-hard industrial listeners see him as something of a profiteering poseur. So, if Pretty Hate Machine isn’t about class struggle, what is it about? The short answer is, atomized personal struggles, particularly in unhealthy relationships.

Music: “Sanctified”

While a track like “Sanctified” isn’t quite as explosively hooky as “Head Like a Hole,” it’s made of the same basic stuff: tight mechanical rhythms, shouty vocals, and distorted guitars that offer just the right amount of edge. As the title implies, it deals with themes of religious purity, darkly inverted--a common enough subject for traditional goth music, though a bit less so for industrial. Still, it’s not unheard of, and seems like a good fit for this particularly American take on industrial. The sort of push-and-pull, love-and-hate dynamic on display here is a consistent one throughout the album, though at times, it feels a bit more low-brow.

Music: “Kinda I Want To”

“Kinda I Want To” is certainly a catchy song, which is once again cut from that same dominant songwriting formula, but I find it’s one that I have my own love-hate relationship with. Whether or not I like a given song is rarely determined chiefly by its lyricism, but in this case, I find “Kinda I Want To” to be almost insufferably puerile and crass. For as much as the critical consensus has really turned around on Nine Inch Nails, with Oscars, Emmys, and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame smiling at Reznor’s artistic achievements, I still remember growing up in a world where this was panned as music for angsty teenage boys. While I obviously think *Pretty Hate Machine* has more value than that, it’s moments like “Kinda I Want To” that make me see the argument. It’s always struck me as a track that takes itself very seriously, and yet fails to convince me. On the other hand, you’ve got a track like “Down In It,” which feels unashamed of being slightly lighter fare.

Music: “Down In It”

In fairness, “Down In It” isn’t entirely “light” material, with its lyrical theme of addiction and its delightfully scratchy soundscape, but it’s danceable and club-friendly in a way that really sets it apart from the rest of *Pretty Hate Machine.* It’s even got a bit of hip-hop influence, with its pseudo-rap verses, and that distortion that sounds vaguely like record scratching--calling back to the early days of hip-hop when it was chiefly employed as party music. Reznor and company famously mimed “Down In It” on the TV program *Dance Party USA,* which a lot of Nine Inch Nails fans see as incongruously absurd, but I think this track genuinely does fit in just fine in that milieu. I don’t look down upon dance music, and I don’t think it’s insulting to suggest that “Down In It” is some great dance music. It was actually the album’s lead single, and a fairly successful one in its own time, so clearly, people were moving to it.

Pretty Hate Machine’s iconic cover is somewhat abstract, featuring this tightly framed streak of lurid magenta and teal that’s boxed in by oppressive walls of black. While that artificial colour palette makes it difficult to ascertain exactly what we’re looking at, it appears to be some sort of large machine with a symmetrical row of spokes, though it’s possible to interpret it as something more organic as well--perhaps a ribcage, or a row of teeth.

The album title “Pretty Hate Machine” strikes me as almost pithy with how straightforward it is. Yes, you can put this album on and expect to find some electronic, machine music, with a fair amount of spite and vitriol, but covered over in that “pretty” pop sheen. Like a lot of the album, it’s on the nose, and perhaps a bit simplistic, but functional enough that I don’t overtly dislike it, even if it isn’t exactly clever.

Reznor’s follow-up to Pretty Hate Machine, 1994’s The Downward Spiral, would go on to even greater acclaim than his debut, and it’s considered by many to be his magnum opus.

Music: “Reptile”

Given its greater emphasis on guitar-driven noise-scapes, and its concept album style narrative, chronicling its protagonist’s descent into madness, I completely understand why the rock criticism establishment is high on this album. In what will probably go down as one of my most controversial opinions, I really don’t care for The Downward Spiral very much at all, precisely because it fits the “rock album” mould so much more than albums like Pretty Hate Machine. Give me the EBM beats any day of the week.

My favourite track on Pretty Hate Machine is its closing track, “Ringfinger.” While “Ringfinger” is yet another toxic relationship-themed number, I like the emphasis on work or labour in its lyrics. The context is quite different, but I’d like to think it has a hint of that working-class consciousness of industrial’s European forebears. Musically, I think this song’s outro is to die for. It closes out the album with some impressively cacophonous rhythm, almost ridiculous in the density of how many loops are playing at once--and yet it works! Overall, I think the percussion tracks throughout the whole album are really remarkable, despite often being overlooked by critics. That’s all I have for today--thanks for watching!

Music: “Ringfinger”

[icespur]

Cute Parent Pennywise Idea....

Yes, Pennywise does eat human children. So it would be hard and impossible for most people to imagine him as a parent but if you have read the book IT is genuinely crushed when ITs unborn children are killed.

So maybe Pennywise wouldn’t eat his own kids and be a decent parent.

Point is, in all three version. Book, Miniseries, 2017/19 films Pennywise is a egotistical creature.....

Now I’m sure we have all come across those moms that are absolutely in love with their child and must show them off to the world and anyone that they come into contact with, right? Come on, you had to have come across at least one of these parents.....

That. That is what I imagine Pennywise as a new parent to be like.

At first IT can’t comprehend that IT, the Eater Of Worlds and Children has created ITs own child. ITs impossible! So the first couple days are IT just trying to process this and “What the fuck did I do?!”

Eventually though, the love and joy of having a living creature that is your own takes hold and “This tiny creature is my Magnum Opus. This is the best most beautiful tiny creature. I have made this therefore it is perfect. It shall grow to eat humans like me and I shall love it and teach it to eat and sleep, this is what love feels like, all it does is cry and smell and sleep but it is perfect and pure and the best accident I have ever created I must show the entire town this thing that I have made by complete and utter accident.”

Half the adults can’t see Pennywise so IT does the only logical thing.........Show off ITs newborn to ITs victims....

So just imagine you were a child that got grabbed by Pennywise. Instead of eating you IT opens ITs mouth and the last thing you see are three glowing lights. You have been trapped in your own mind plagued with horrific visions for who knows how many years. Is this what death feels like?

All of a sudden you get pulled back into reality. You have no idea what year it is, and before you even get a chance to fully comprehend what is happening a tiny newborn is shoved way too close to your face....

Pennywise starts temporarily waking ITs victims out of the Deadlights just so they can see this wonderful creature that IT has made.

“Where am I—-“

“LOOK AT MY CHILD!” Shoves newborn in child’s face so close the baby is pretty much covering the child’s entire head so they can’t see said baby even if they wanted to.

Then proceeds to joyfully roasts said confused child and the entire human race by going on a long tangent of how perfect and wonderful ITs offspring is compared to normal dumb HUMAN babies (Even though it’s child looks like a normal human baby except it’s glowing) if the confused children say anything remotely negative about ITs child Pennywise’s happy demeanor completely changes and IT just gives you a blank look that tells you that you won’t be going back in the Deadlights because of that and will die a very slow brutal death because of that comment....

Even better if IT doesn’t stop at Deadlight victims. During ITs hunts IT has to somehow bring up that IT has a child of ITs own. Oh don’t think that means I’m going to spare you, my newborn still has to eat something!

Mike calls all the Losers back. Apparently Pennywise has woken up again and we have to kill it, “Oh apparently it also has a baby..”

The Losers: “.........It has a what?”

[tirorah]

’Minna’s Sky’ is Road to Berlin’s Crowning Achievement

A long time ago, in a universe far, far away, three young girls met each other during a war: Minna, the caring leader; Gertrud, the stalwart defender; and Erica, the lazy prodigy who kept them smiling.

As the fighting continued, a friendship began to form. And now, years later, that friendship lies at the heart of something truly exceptional.

Minna’s Sky is the culmination of twelve-and-a-half years of relationship development, and it gives this special trio the sendoff it deserves. I was overcome with conflicting emotions while I watched this episode; when it finished, I was left shaken and almost lost for words.

…Which is why I wrote an essay on it! And that entire essay is contained under the cut, so you’d best buckle up and hold onto something, because today we’re diving into what I believe to be the pièce de résistance of Strike Witches.

In a previous post speculating on what Minna’s Sky could hold—which, by the way, was thoroughly proven wrong—I took a moment to outline my love for Minna and my frustration with her neglect. Initially, this trend continued in Road to Berlin: in episodes 6 and 8, the characters were faced with circumstances that would’ve been greatly helped by a Witch with Space Understanding magic. Of course, I understand why the writers chose to exclude Minna from these events; having Minna there would’ve negated the drama of Trude thinking Erica was dead, and of Sanya and Eila clashing over conflicting sensory reports.

But Minna’s episode hit back hard. If RtB is Strike Witches’ magnum opus, then Minna’s Sky may well be RtB’s masterpiece among masterpieces. It combines the intensity and raw emotion of Hounds of Vengeance with a ticking time bomb that ratchets up the tension all the way through, finishing with a series of events that makes you feel like anything can happen.

Role Reversal

Minna’s Sky starts with a surprise right away. In episode 8, Minna and Trude expressed anxiety over losing their magic. At this point they’re just under three months removed from their 20th birthdays, where decay will certainly start to set in. But in this episode, we learn Minna’s already feelings the effects. At first this confused me, as their birthdays are only nine days apart, but I do recall seeing something about how Trude’s magical reserves are pretty large, second only to Yoshika’s. I can’t find my source for that, but this could be an explanation for Minna’s earlier decline.

Trude notices Minna’s flagging strength, and at that point, a switching of roles takes place.

Minna, who once held Mio at gunpoint for refusing to give up on flight, is now doing the same thing. She’s still herself, but she essentially slips into Mio’s previous role. She takes this burden upon herself and stops communicating with the others over it, even avoiding them during mealtime.

Last episode, we could see her mask starting to slip, and here, all her logic and serenity fades, replaced with a wholly emotional desire. She and her girls have worked so hard to get here, and she wants to uphold her vow of retaking Berlin, so she makes the decision to give this fight everything she has, despite the danger involved.

This puts her at odds with Trude, who slides into the calm and perceptive role Minna used to fill.

You know, Trude may be my favorite character of all time, but she hasn’t always been handled well. In Season 1, she was a great balance of the calm and quiet supporter, and the stern disciplinarian who thought yelling at Erica would make her get up earlier. In Season 2, this equilibrium was lost; it leaned much more into her anger, and there were precious few moments of Trude being the gentle and tender woman I know she can be. The movie had the same problem, as it had to reintroduce eleven characters in one sitting. Operation Victory Arrow worked hard to remedy this problem, focusing on smaller casts which gave them time to show different sides of themselves—like Minna and Trude having breakfast like a married couple. Ahem.

This is one reason why RtB has been so gratifying for me. It knows what it’s doing with Trude and while she’s certainly had some angry moments, RtB has built her up as a more mature, level-headed executive officer. Consequently, it feels natural for her to take up the position Minna would usually hold in this type of situation.

Even when she privately confronts Minna over her magic, there is no anger, only attempts to reason her friend out of her decision. But Minna doesn’t want Kiel to be lost, and at that moment, it’s made clear that she prioritizes Operation Southwind over her own well-being.

And this is entirely contradictory with what she usually tells her girls! Like I said before, the 501st is a circle of love, and while that love motivates them to fight for one another’s sakes, as Sanya did, it now leads Minna down a path of self-sacrifice that would’ve absolutely killed her if it was one of her girls doing it. Moreover, with Trude now filling Minna’s role, she’s the one pleading with Minna not to go, and like Minna once failed to stop Mio, Trude now fails to stop Minna.

This causes inner turmoil. Trude doesn’t want to lose Kiel, but if Minna perishes, she’d never forgive herself. Like she said in Hounds of Vengeance, when she thought Erica was dead, retaking Berlin would have no point if Minna wasn’t there to celebrate it with them.

It says something, then, that Trude chooses to go along with Minna’s wishes, and even keeps her waning magic a secret from the others. Instead of declaring Minna unfit for battle—which I imagine she has every right to do—she instead becomes Minna’s most ardent protector, immediately volunteering for the high-risk operation. When Minna becomes anxious and nearly makes a mistake, Trude is there to rein her in and calm her down. Minna even comments on how this would usually be the other way around.

Fortunately, Minna is better at this self-sacrificing stuff than Mio is. While she initially uses her desire to protect Kiel to justify her actions, a heartfelt campfire scene shows us that she’s aware of the ramifications her death would have. As Erica complains about their fake coffee, Minna promises to make her a proper batch when they return; Trude tells her not to make such promises, but Minna reassures her she’ll come back safe, and even proposes they go to a café together once Berlin is retaken. On the surface, they’re making plans for the future; but underneath, it’s an implied message to Trude: I understand. I’m not going out to die. I’ll come back.

Isn’t that first pic just the cutest Trude shot ever, by the way?

And Trude is pacified. She places her trust in Minna and continues to support her as best she can.

Of course, things are never that simple. Minna succeeds at her objective, and just when the episode seems to be steering to a happy conclusion, the Hive screeches and loads up all its rockets at the same time. As Trude once again begs her to stop, she does the unthinkable: she cuts the line and dives into a suicide run, breaking one promise to keep another.

The facial expressions and body language have been god-tier in RtB.

I must commend Tanaka Rie here. I’ve often complimented Sonozaki Mie (who voices Trude) for her impeccable delivery, but Tanaka Rie is equally excellent, possibly better in some departments (like range, just hear her role in Mai Otome for example). Here, as Negai no Tomoshibi starts playing in the background, the gravity of the scene rests entirely on Tanaka’s voice work. And boy, does she nail it! The exhaustion, the desperation, the sheer will, it’s all there. Her desperate pants and cries at the end are especially powerful, and they make this scene even more dramatic when she faints right after.

Trude manages to catch her—and only Trude was there, because 1: we only saw Trude catching her; 2: the hand we see is Minna’s left, and in the next shot, Trude is carrying her right arm instead; and 3: we only saw one blue dot in the Hive, and the episode previously established one dot was one Witch.

Ahem! Trude catches her and brings her back, and she…breaks down.

Wow. Trude doesn’t cry easily, you know. We’ve seen her depressed, despondent, even heard her sob as she told Yoshika to leave her behind, but until Hounds of Vengeance, we’d never seen Trude cry. While that one ended in a victorious moment, here the emotion is allowed to run its course, and it’s heartbreaking. Trude doesn’t just cry, she weeps, and as she yells and screams at Minna that she could never follow an order that would involve leaving Minna behind, her facial expressions convey just how terrified she truly was.

I said earlier that Minna switched to Mio’s role, and while that’s true, there’s something even more poetic at work here: this episode mirrors Season 1’s Episode 4 in some places, to the point that I feel like it has to be on purpose. That’s one reason why I made this photoset. Just look at this:

Oh look, more apologizing! These two are so emotionally responsible to one another. It’s always good to see.

The roles are shown as reversed, with Trude crying and reprimanding Minna, and Minna apologizing for her actions and agreeing on a better path forward.

Sexy Gal

I also need to devote some space to Erica here. She wasn’t as prominent—Minna and Trude’s bond took center stage—but this episode is probably the best showcase of Erica’s qualities. We already saw her surviving in the woods and rationing her chocolate three episodes prior, but here, it’s clear more than ever what her role is in the Karlsland Trio’s support structure: the morale boost.

In the “Erica Hartmann 1941” manga, we’re shown how Erica becomes a ray of hope for everyone, and especially Minna and Trude, whom she begins to develop a friendship with at that time. It’s this aspect which is finally on full display here: while she’s not as overt with her support as Trude is, she helps in her own way, and her easy-going personality consistently puts a smile on her friends’ faces. That’s why it’s so important that it’s Erica who makes Minna laugh—not once, but twice. In a group where the other two members have their fair share of baggage, Erica is a breath of fresh air and equally important.

Rising Tension

Okay, with the character work out of the way, let’s look at the episode’s story. Because holy crap, I felt like I was watching a movie! At first, I was a little annoyed by some of the stiff animation (especially for RtB’s standards). I was afraid they were going to half-ass Minna’s episode. But as the episode proceeded and absolutely everything got better and better, I realized I was in for a very special ride.

I’ve always had the opinion that Strike Witches is at its best when it plays its war drama straight, but it’s not as simple as striking the serious tone and having the characters fight for their lives. Strike Witches isn’t a pure action show; the stakes in battle often revolve around the characters overcoming their flaws, struggling to protect the world and those they hold dear. Thus, Strike Witches relies on its lighter moments to develop the cast so that when danger comes to them, your emotional investment in the characters helps to create additional tension.

In general, RtB has been great at this, but for me personally, the most emotionally intense episode prior to Minna’s Sky was Episode 6: Hounds of Vengeance.

But that one was different. It started off with relatively low tension, then brought it up to full when Erica was left behind and Trude had a meltdown over it. But when it’s revealed that Trude isn’t just moping around, and that she’s working on a plan, the tension evens out. The central question goes from ‘Will Erica survive?’ to ‘How awesome will Trude be in this episode?’ The climactic action is triumphant, and although Trude’s reaction to Erica’s ‘body’ is heartbreakingly real, we as viewers know that Erica is fine; in fact, she hasn’t seemed that down at all, obviously having faith in her rescue.

Episode 9 doesn’t do that. It immediately confronts you with Minna’s magic issue and her hiding it from her friends, then pretends to be innocent for a while, with Patton being an idiot and Ursula introducing her helmet gun. (“It’s a helmet, with a gun on it.” NO, REALLY?) But as soon as the Komet is introduced, the pressure builds and it never lets up.

It all comes to a head when the trio (plus Ursula) reaches the launch point. Minna’s been dropping death flags all episode, and now things go haywire over and over. An hour left? Nope, the Neuroi spotted you and moved up the rocket’s launch. Barely enough time to intercept the rocket? Hey, there’s that Neuroi that beat the two top aces of the world in single combat, and it’s coming to stop you. Thirty seconds to go for the fuel? The Neuroi gets past Trude and Erica and nearly destroys the Komet, hurts Ursula and blows up one of their trucks. Trude and Erica get it away from there? Oh look, the Hive’s about to launch!

We then get an epic scene where Minna takes off, uses her magic, and destroys the rocket. Speaking of which, I didn’t say anything about this when I talked about episode 8, but I’m so happy we finally get to see some of the Witches’ magic from their point of view! Seeing Eila’s future sight was haunting, and Minna’s is awesome to see as well. Erica and Trude manage to finish off their quarry, showing their skill and adaptability; it seems their prior experience means they’re better prepared to deal with its unique movements this time around.

Erica asks for chocolate and grumbles when Trude tells her she’ll get some later. Minna laughs, but there’s still that tension because Minna’s fuel is almost up, and she’s hanging around that damn Hive.

And then the Hive loads up all its rockets at once, and all hell breaks loose. Trude loses control of the situation as Minna goes on a suicide run, and then the insert song starts playing. It’s difficult to explain the impact of that song without simply showing you the episode. The moment that piano hits, it feels as though a veneer of tragedy descends upon the scene. The Komet nearly stops working, and Minna is on her last legs, and she’s reduced to nothing but cries and gasps. She faints moments after she destroys the last rocket.

And then the music gets louder as Minna plummets into the Hive, red slowly filling the screen. We’re treated to a long shot of Minna falling into the swirling, angry clouds, her tiny form fading into its mass. And at that point I freaked the fuck out.

It was somewhere around Season 2’s finale and watching the movie that I realized Strike Witches doesn’t kill off characters. Let’s just say killing a beloved character probably wouldn’t work too well for future sales. (“Hey, look at this awesome figure of the girl who died! Don’t you just love her? We’ll accept your tears as interest.”) If Mio of all people can have plot armor rivaling the size of the planet, then Minna sure as hell won’t perish here.

And yet, for a fleeting moment, I was absolutely terrified she would. All because of the masterful tension of this episode, and this entire fight scene in particular.

Fortunately, Trude manages to locate Minna in the clouds and brings her back, and the viewer can finally breathe easier as we head to the happy ending they deserve.

…Oh right, the ending.

Yuri alert

Let me start off by saying this ending is complete bullshit. It feels shoehorned in—no, I don’t care what historical event it’s referencing—and it doesn’t fit the tone of the episode at all.

Having said that, as much as this made me laugh (even more than Trude’s literal asspull in Hounds of Vengeance) it did get one thing completely right: yes, Ursula, it IS very beautiful. The love between these three is great. What kind of love that exactly is, I’m not entirely sure anymore.

Yes, you’re going to roll your eyes at this—oh no, she’s going to rant about Minna x Trude again—but…I was watching this ending, right, and I could almost hear the gears in my brain turn as I tried to process this image. Emotionally, I felt like this ending was communicating love of a different sort.

Look, for all I know they’re just best buds who’ve come to deeply rely on one another for emotional and psychological stability, but my god, this ending definitely felt like a ‘oh by the way, the three of them are married to each other’ signal to me. I’m not joking!

Does that make Minna x Trude canon, even as part of an OT3? No. In fact, for all the delightful Minna x Trude subtext this episode had…

Deflection by way of flirtation. Oh là là~!

…Trude did all but confess to Erica in episode 6, and later this week, Mio might finally return in a big way and might have screen time with Minna. But my point is, in that moment, my ship felt realer than ever. In that respect, this episode gave me more than I ever thought I’d receive.

Insert clever ending header here

Right, so that’s my ramble on Minna’s Sky. I hope I’ve managed to get across why I believe it’s the best episode of the entire series. The character writing was top-notch, the tension was through the roof, the music was evocative and the animation was beautiful. Barring an absolutely spectacular final three episodes (and I wouldn’t put it past RtB to deliver that), I think this is as good as it gets. It’s not easy to beat emotional stakes that were established twelve years ago, after all.

Minna’s Sky was absolutely the episode Minna deserved, and I was very happy to see the Karlsland Trio getting its spot in the limelight as we gradually draw closer to the ending. It’s their home they’re trying to take back, after all. And while I have no doubt Minna will continue to fly until the end of the season (she seems to be fine in the preview), Operation Southwind will most likely be the bookend to Minna and Trude’s careers.

I can only hope this won’t be the last we see of Minna and Trude. I’d love it if we got to see their lives after Karlsland’s liberation, either as supporting members of the Wing or trying to live normal lives after fighting a war for nearly a decade. (Shameless plug: I have a Minna x Trude fanfic which explores the latter.)

But most of all, I don’t want Road to Berlin to end.

[shirtlesssammy]

9x23: Do You Believe in Miracles?

Then:

*ahem* Lots of angel and Mark of Cain stuff happened... I guess 

Now:

We pick up right where we left off in 9x22. Dean almost kills Gadreel, but Sam and Cas lock him up in the dungeon instead. Sam locks the First Blade away and discovers Gadreel is gone. 

 Dean’s busy vomiting up blood. Healthy. 

Metatron is busy writing his Magnum Opus. It’s a story about “love and heartbreak...and love.” An angel helper is there to show Metatron his new angel radio station --it only allows his voice to play for all angels in heaven and earth. Metatron is delighted. 

He gives them a rousing speech of how happy he is that they’ve all joined together under his rule. He tells them that he’s going away, but when he returns, it’ll be glorious. 

Sam and Cas take a drive and find a very injured Gadreel on the side of the road. Cas, his powers weakened, heals Gadreel from Dean’s wound. They need his help. 

Crowley, meanwhile, is enjoying a nice demon massage. But Dean calls him away.

Dean demands that Crowley tell him what’s been going on with him. Ever since killing Abaddon, he needs to kill, all the time. Crowley tells him the mark is making him kill, and if he doesn’t he will die. As a human, he can’t really survive this curse. Dean tells Crowley that he wants to get to Metatron, but he needs the blade first. He needs Crowley’s help. 

Cas, Sam, and Gadreel come back to an empty bunker. Sam tries reaching his brother with no luck. Gadreel thinks that Dean and the blade are their best chance at stopping Metatron. Sam, ever the co-dependent, thinks it’s A HORRIBLE IDEA. They talk about how Metatron is tapping into the angel tablet to gain powers akin to God. They need to break that connection.

The one problem is that the tablet is in heaven in Metatron’s office. Gadreel can get them to the gate. Sam thinks this is also a stupid idea. Cas thinks they have to try. 

Insert one unobservant woman getting hit by a car. Lucky for the world, Metatron is there to save her. 

Dean and Crowley hit up a local watering hole for the wi-fi.

Crowley is really going through some existential crazies, and Dean’s not ready to embrace their summer of love yet. Dean does see through his angst in regards to Hell though, but is too focused on finding Metatron to dissect Crowley’s issues right now. A couple of Crowley’s demons arrive with a video of what Metatron’s been up to. 

Marv’s been saving people’s lives! 

Dean gets up to leave, and here’s where things get REALLY DARK. Dean doesn’t eat his cheeseburger. 

Cas and Gadreel arrive at Heaven’s portal: a playground. Cas has a plan on getting them inside. 

And just thinking about Cas getting the Wookie idea from watching movies with Dean and Sam, and learning from these humans that he’s come to accept as family, just, well, even though so much has been said about it, it all still messes me up a bit. Gadreel doesn’t understand that reference, and Cas has a sad. 

Dean arrives at the recently resurrected woman’s home, only to find Sam. Dean refuses to engage his brother. Sam informs Dean that Cas and Gadreel are risking everything to help Dean win this fight. Dean hears “Cas” and records scratches. Sam powers through with their season’s worth of anger and resentment. They have a plan, and Dean’s just going to have to take it. Sam eventually concedes that Dean’s their best shot at Metatron. Crowley decides to bounce. 

Gadreel and a handcuffed Cas enter Heaven. They’re taken right to Metatron’s office. 

Oh wait, nope. It’s actually Heaven’s prison. (And UGH, Gadreel’s “no,no, not here!” stung a bit.) 

Marv heads to a homeless camp to perform miracles. He moves among the people, healing them. Another angel calls him out as a fraud and not human, and then calls him Metatron. The other people rally around Metatron, attacking the accusing angel. HOW DARE! Marv is good and pure! Metatron kicks his angel blade into the fray and someone grabs it up and stabs the other angel.  DUDES. There’s no need to go from zero to stabbin’! Light flashes as Metatron grins.

Dean struggles under the thrall of the blade, but tries to wrap himself up in the mantle of gruff normalcy when Sam fills him in on the latest Metatron intel. Dean attempts a half hearted apology for the past few months and Sam attempts a half hearted acceptance. My heart is so warmed? Oh wait, I’m feeling despair at their continued utter lack of emotional honesty. GAH. (This is the show I choose to love!) Dean coldcocks Sam, knocking out that poor boy and his delicate, delicate head. “Not your fight,” Dean tells him and then just...WALKS AWAY.

Up in Heaven, Cas tries to make Hannah see the truth about Metatron. Hannah is TIRED of all the angel deaths. Honestly, PREACH my friend! While Castiel pleads, Gadreel comes up with a very bad idea indeed. 

Down on Earth, Dean enters the homeless encampment. He’s immediately greeted by two residents who tell Dean that “Marv” is expecting him. Dean’s directed into a warehouse to find Metatron. 

Gadreel is EXTREMELY wound up in Heaven’s jail. “The only thing that matters is the mission,” he says. On this show, that kind of talk is a very bad sign. While Cas tries to calmly reassure him, Gadreel carves a sigil into his chest. Realizing what he’s doing too late, Castiel cowers as Gadreel blasts himself apart. Heaven’s jail crumbles. 

Cas emerges from his broken cell and confronts Hannah.

In the old factory, Metatron calmly waits for Dean. He accuses Dean of harboring too much cynicism to be happy, but Dean puts forth his own share of belittling banter. Metatron’s a fake! 

Metatron doesn’t care. He rails about God’s insecurity, spinning a story about humanity who will do nothing but bow and scrape for God’s favor even in the face of terrible adversity. He vows that he can save humans. He’s got a mission. 

Dean doesn’t care. He’s out to get Metatron for killing Kevin, taking Cas’s grace, and whatever other ills befall humanity. He whips out the blade and does not...look...terribly stable. 

Metatron sorts through Dean’s confrontation, concluding that Dean’s stalling to buy Cas and Gadreel time to enact their plan up in Heaven. Jokes on Dean, though! They’ve been imprisoned! The blade shakes in Dean’s hand. They fight. 

Upstairs, Cas has made it to Metatron’s study. Hannah’s back on his side! Yeah!

Dean fights Metatron, but he’s no match for “the word of God.” Sam races through the encampment to help his brother. Meanwhile, Dean gets the stuffing kicked out of him. 

Dean is looking really, really super not great. But he still summons the strength to reach out a hand to psychokinetically propel the blade to his hand. He sits up. It’s his hero moment!

And…

Metatron stabs him RIGHT through the CHEST. Just...RIGHT THERE THROUGH THE HEART.

Damn. 

Everything slows down as Sam watches his brother get stabbed. Dean looks around, seeks his brother out one last time, and then falls to the ground JUST as, in Heaven, Cas dashes the angel tablet to pieces on the floor. UNFORTUNATE TIMING! 

This is Our Hearts:

Sam hauls out a blade to stab the hell out of Metatron, but the angel flaps out.

Cas looks up from the desk to see Metatron. Metatron comments on the shattered tablet, destroyed to “save Dean Winchester.” He advances. “You draped yourself in the flag of Heaven but ultimately it was all about saving one human, right?”

Metatron drops the truth bomb: Dean is dead.

Sam is frantic as a not-dead-yet Dean slurs a request for Sam to leave him and get the hell out of there. Sam refuses. Surely there’s a spell or SOMETHING to save Dean? Too bad, Sammy. Dean’s already on board with embracing the sweet release of death if it means he can escape the ill effects of the Mark. 

Cas folds his grief carefully into a box and then accuses Metatron of fooling the other angels with his savior routine. Metatron scoffs. “They are frightened little sheep,” Metatron says with dripping contempt, but he will lead them back to leading (and lording over) humanity. 

Sam helps Dean walk out of the building and Dean asks him about his sudden change of heart. Sam’s not ready to let him go just yet! “Ain’t that a bitch.” It is indeed a bitch, Dean Winchester. 

Metatron prepares to stab Cas, accusing him of lacking the imagination to spin a good story for himself. Cas throws it back at him: Metatron learned to spin a good story...and he narrated the hell out of his nefarious plot WHILE angel radio was on full broadcast mode. Angels storm the study and seize Metatron. 

Back on Earth, things are going very badly. “I’m proud of us,” Dean chokes out to his brother right before he dies. Oh dear.

Upstairs, Cas and Hannah lock Metatron up behind bars. She tells him that not killing Metatron is what a leader would do. Cas denies her label. He just wants to be an angel. Hannah reminds him that he’ll die without replenishing his failing grace.

We cut to Sam laying Dean’s body in his room at the bunker and then drinking himself Winchester stupid in the dark library. He drunk-summons Crowley using the setup Dean left behind in the dungeon. TOO LATE, Sam! Crowley’s already in the bunker. 

Crowley settles next to Dean’s body and tells him that Sam’s currently trying to summon him. Crowley swears that he didn’t know what would happen when Dean took on the Mark of Cain. But...he didn’t reveal the whole truth. There’s another story about Cain that factors in. Cain killed himself rather than become the killer the Mark was steering him towards becoming. The death didn’t stick. The Mark kept him tethered to the world. Crowley places the blade in Dean’s hand. “Maybe miracles do come true,” Crowley says. Dean is feeling LIFE right now, and not the cold embrace of death. “A new kind of life. Open your eyes, Dean. See what I see. Feel what I feel. Let’s go take a howl at that moon.”

I’m Just a Broken-Quoted Angel:

What can I say? I wear my stress

Who else would he summon? I mean, he and Crowley have been bromancing over the Blade ever since Dean got the mark

Wookie!

You’re nothing but Bernie Madoff with wings

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[yasumi222]

KILLING STALKING ANALYSIS :D PART UNO

Ayz, u ppl r so nice, luvz :D

And I was thinking for some days already, about that bizarre plotline in the recent chapters, so I came up with theory – or more likely a perspective. I love Killing Stalking – but only psychological aspect of it – the part of investigation is… bad. Real bad. Still, plot holes are there to stick a finger in them. And I have a lot blabbering to do, so I suppose I won’t post it all at once XD Still, I’ll make kinda tl;dr to maybe at least announce what I have in mind and we will see how it goes.

So tl;dr – last chapters are (not 100% aware) Sangwoo suicide attempt, he did not “murder” Chief Kwak, he has inner demon fight – inside his head - Seungbae is something – and I will call it a villain.

And for the beginning – I’ll start with the analyse – what made Sangwoo to be in the situation he is right now, and why he called it upon himself. I’m saying that right now XD ill divide part one in two parts, because it will be long ass shit, and I will be crazy surprised if someone read one part in one go.

I will go for the more juicy plot holes later, after I make a point in that suicide of Sangwoo matter – because – in my opinion it is the opus magnum of that story.

PART I – SANGWOO CHARACTER ANALYSIS

Let’s start with Sangwoo. Within chapters in S3 its vivid that he cares no more about his wellbeing, he is not scared of death – he is scared of one particular way of dying – the painful one. Risky way of driving, talking about his crimes out loud, lack of joy in the thing that should provide some sort of warmness inside his broken heart.

I think Sangwoo after such traumas is divided between two personalities. Either it is some strange dissociative identity disorder, where the split is not fully achieved, but its present, or its very severe case of borderline disorder. Either way - I will assume – that indeed – inside his head lives two characters, which are fighting over leadership. And one of them is 90% of the time victorious. Let’s call him KILLER – that crazy, murderous personality, without empathy, full of himself – absolute and terrible monster. That “Killer” is the one who has hallucinations about his mother, that “Killer” believes he killed not only a mother, but a father too. That “KILLER” was created the day – when his mother put a knife in her throat, and is surviving till today. And that KILLER is the schizophrenic one – who hears bangs on the door, who reacts with aggression with every hallucination that appear. I’m pretty convinced that the first killings from Sangwoo – were not committed with the full sanity of the act. They were not accident, of course, but he was killing over and over his mother - then his mind needed to accustom to such horrific act. And the KILLER matured. Killings were most probably soothing shattered mind, he killed hallucination after hallucination – letting himself for a moment of peace – in such horrific manner.

And Bum was the one, who managed to snap the KILLER out of his mania – with very simple words. I love you. Because if mother of the KILLER was indeed loving him, even after rape, she wouldn’t die. She wouldn’t get the knife inside her throat. She wouldn’t reject him in such disgusting act. She hated him so much, she preferred death over letting herself love him. She would be still alive, alas KILLER wouldn’t be born.

And the KILLER stops. Bum survives.

But stopping the KILLER is way different story than overcoming him. He is pushing every way possible – to force Bum to hate him – testing him, trying him – and still like a child, who kicks his dog – he still expect that the dog will come back – lick his face, wiggle tail in happiness.  It’s not logical. But Sangwoo expect absolute love – even in the face of true terror.

Maybe because he regrets, he didn’t show his love to his mother – even during the most disgusting act – because he loved her unconditionally, and maybe – maybe if he didn’t complain – she would not reject him.

And KILLER is angry when Bum rejects him. But then, try after try, when our fucked up in the head Bum manage to still show his attachment to Sangwoo – the KILLER starts to shine less, and something old – something long forgotten is starting to look at Bum with different eyes. The moment of Bum attempted suicide is crucial moment, when the KILLER is for the moment gone. Hidden. Bum is trying to get rid of himself – not because he do not love Sangwoo – but because Sangwoo is not loving him. And Sangwoo see for the first time – himself in small figure of Bum, he sees that rejected, scared boy, who cries his out eyes, and who is ready to give up his life – not for him, but as an act of rejection of the world without him. Sangwoo for the first time believes Bum – because there is no lie in the blood. There is no lie in the tears.

Sangwoo hurt him. And he is aware of that.

And that Sangwoo – of that moment – is the man who will sustain on doing any harm to his beloved Bum. That is the second persona, who will lose again and again in the battle with the KILLER. But it’s the persona that I love. The persona who tries, and tries. But that persona needs help, needs constant sustain, needs the directions – to learn again how to behave, how to notice others. When I’m in pain – for example – having an headache – I’m really focused about my wellbeing. It’s easier to get upset over someone, because during pain I’m more self-centered. And Sangwoo agony is going on and on and on and on, without any pauses. And him trying to see through his trauma other person is almost impossible – and yet – he tries. Not as a hero, he won’t get any applause for doing that. And – even during tries – he is fully aware he will fail. Again. And again. Victory was never an option.

And we can all agree – KILLING STALKING – shouldn’t have a happy ending. And there was never an intention of getting one - as Koogi showed us. Sangwoo is suicidal. He was, he is and he will be. But there was one thing – the most painful death – that he feared with all his mind, wholesome of his heart. The lonely, painful death. And it was a curse placed upon him. The dagger poking his neck. And he was well aware it will never go away. Then – he asked the only person – which reached his softer, calmer persona for one thing. To die with him. To be with him – even in the most scary moment – to be with him – and in that way – even if he was devoured alive but monsters, drenched in the well, crushed to the bones – he would not die the most painful way. He needed Bum to protect him from alone, dark and scary death. And in that way he would – no matter what – be protected from the curse, that his mother placed upon him.

Still – the perspective of death was not so… vivid back then. It was in front of him, but not clear, close but not too close yet. They were drown in the ceremony of their own bonding, their honeymoon before actual wedding. And I truly believe – he wanted to cherish those moment, but his broken mind was not able to fulfill any boxes of happiness. Dysphoria. Sangwoo lost an ability to feel actual happiness, but still – seeing such joy in the eyes of Bum – forced his own mind to borrow a little of that light. And that was the moment I truly loved Bum. That was his strength that Sangwoo lacked, the ability to still light that fire. Joy. Happiness. Love.

But I can only imagine what an actual feeling that was for Sangwoo. The realization of the hollowness of your own being.

And he was shattering.

And I’d like to think that – the murder of the lady during ski trip – was an actual parallel to the first time – when Sangwoo killed someone. Haunted with the pictures of his mother, with trembling hands, and tears in his eyes – it was not a KILLER who killed her. It wasn’t thought through, it wasn’t calm and ironic. It was madness, absolutely terrifying madness.

And Sangwoo ran. Shattering more and more of the defenses he set years ago. He was naked in his own filthy, murderous self, in his own disgusting, horrid trauma, and drowned in the fear of dying – most painful, most painful, most painful… way…

And he ran to Bum. He cried next to Bum. Even if he didn’t expect him to answer, his presence was his safe place. He believed he won’t be rejected, or maybe at least hoped so. Even if he expected silence – it was the first time – when he – in very clumsy way – reached to Bum for help. Dependence was set hard in the stone. For the first time – Sangwoo was really vulnerable – and in the future – that vulnerability will only grow stronger.

 Thank you if you reached the bottom of that mindsea :) I hope, even if it’s some rambling of anon in the internet – maybe a tiny bit of it was entertaining for you; as it is part one ill try to post second asap :D even if only for myself :’D cheers!

[komatsunana]

Chronicles of Exandria: The Legend of Vox Machina II

I did this for the first volume, so I bought this artbook right away just to do it again. <3 My Winter’s Crest gift to all the critters.

The art. Once again I cannot overstate the stunning artwork of the critter community. I know some fans balk at the price, but all the artists are paid to have their art in the book - and I think the big price tag is well worth artist getting some compensation for their work (do correct me if I’m wrong). I won’t be sharing any photos of of the art, but most of it is available online already.

However, I will share this photo of the print on the box the book came in:

Excerpt of the Foreward:

“The memories in this book are real. They were created with love and laughter around a table with friends, and let loose on the wind to find what ears would listen.  The joys and pains of every winding turn still occupy our minds daily and if you are reading this, I suspect they live on in yours as well.  We were there.  We witnessed it unfold.” 

Vox Machina was only able to scry on Scanlan once, as seen in the episode Jugs and Rods, but some time after Scanlan warded himself against arcane sight.

The Mantle of the Tempest is described as “eternal autumn leaves.”

Keyleth goes on to rule with wisdom and grace.

Usually the Cobalt Soul has problems researching historical figures for whom there is little written word about...... With Taryon they had the opposite problem: there was too much! lmao. And 90% of it is believed to be embellished or flat out lies.

Nicknames that Taryon gave himself and were never used by anyone ever: “The Winsome Winner of Wildemount,” “Talented Tary,” “Golden-Maned Guardian of Good,” and “The Vindicator.”

Uvenda, the gnome in Vesrah, is still alive!! She’s stepped down as leader now and is the tale-teller of Vesrah.

The Ashari call the kraken that VM fought for Keyleth’s Aremente “Ulugrah the Requisite.”

Uvenda claims that Ulugrah, upon learning that the creatures it had trounced were legendary heroes (I’m assuming they mean Vox Machina), it boasts about it’s victory against them to anyone who will listen any who come to its lair in the Plane of Water.

Tova went by different epithets including: “The Bear,” “Little Half-Ear,” “The Bloody-Handed,” and “The Skin Changer.” After surviving the Hells thanks to Vax’s ring of invisibility, she gained the name “The Unseen Death.”  Little else can be verified about Tova, but none of her friends she went to with Dis survived.

Grey Hunt Lore

Lord Wolf de Rolo and Lady Melanie van Musel de Rolo were the leaders of the 4th reign of Whitestone. It was a political marriage and Melanie was particularly unhappy. She had a garden filled with flora and fauna from her home in Wildemont. The garden is now known as the Widow’s Garden and many of the plants were poisons that she used to slowly assassinate Lord Wolf with.  

After being injured in the Great Whitestone Fire, he couldn’t recover because of the poison and he died leaving Melanie the ruler. She decided to redraw the lines of the city walls, pushing into the Parchwood Timberlands which didn’t go well. Construction was plagued by accidents, animal attacks, and phantoms were reported (such as of Lord Wolf) - though the construction of a Temple of the Dawnfather went unhindered.  

Lady Melanie’s cousin was Ivan van Musel, a cleric, and he declared that Melanie had pissed off the Dawnfather by expanding without showing reverence. Ivan went into the forest after much mediation and was later found battered but alive atop a felled Direwolf.  Ivan had a vision in which the Lawbearer agreed to the expansion no further than where Ivan had felled the Direwolf and that from here on, a citizen of Whitestone must venture into the Parchwood when called to do so and be tested. 

Melanie created the title Grand Master of the Grey Hunt, the third ruling house of Whitestone, for Ivan.  The third house has since forth been in change of the Grey Hunt and managing the city’s relationship with the world beyond the city walls.

Hundreds of gold in property damage during Vox Machina’s stay at Dalen’s Closet while VM “relentlessly pranked” each other.

Whitestone became a thriving metropolis during VM’s year off - in part because of Allura keeping it safe during Thordak’s reign while everywhere else was ravaged.

K’yrrn - the dark elf that kidnapped Taryon - is from Xhorhas!

Though Tary could be called a fool, a braggart, a coward... in the moment he stood against his father’s selfishness and bigotry and forgave and reconciled with him is described as being more valiant than slaying.

Lionel Gayheart had “an unusual case of amnesia.”

JB Trickfoot continued to work in Whitestone’s library and it’s thanks to many of her notes that the Cobalt Soul has as much as they do on Vox Machina.

“Uh, yes, the very first thing I remember about meeting Vox Machina was when the red-haired lady jumped off a mountain.  It was grisly.  But what I’ll remember forever is what happened afterward.  The coin that Lady Vex’ahlia used, the glow of light, the power.  It brought her back to life.  They really were like gods.”

Taryon’s autobiography’s dedication:  “This book is dedicated to Lawrence.  But it is for my family.”

Taryon thinks his father was actually proud of Tary’s Darrington Brigade.

Tary never liked his father, but after returning home Tary began to love him.

Mariya, Tary’s mom, was part of the Brigade and took care of the injured warriors.

Maryanne, Tary’s sister, became the driving force behind the Darrington Fund charity and even gave up her home for those less fortunate than herself.  When she called Tary “brother” it was no longer an insult.

Tary is most proud that his mother finally has a united family, one to be proud of.

Kaylie Shorthalt talks a bit about Lionel - says he was a goofy son of a bitch. He kept talking to her about ducks though.  He once tried to show her his house, but he just took her to an oasis in the middle of desert that was full of ducks.

The Cobalt Soul doesn’t like to spread rumors but they do have theories of Lionel’s Marquesian mallard heritage.

Aes Adan, aka the Meat Man, rise to power coincided with the disappearance of several low to mid level criminals.

A scholar once went to visit Scanlan to interview him to see if the rumors were true that Scanlan had been the Meat Man.  The Scribe returned, unable to remember anything from his visit.  In his notebook were only crude drawings of ducks.  Scanlan still using that Modify Memory...

The fucking Cobalt Soul knows that Scanlan sacrificed the 9th level spell he was saving for Vax to stop Vecna from leaving.  It’s history folks.

For the folks out there who love the Briarwoods’ love for each other, some of an excerpt of Delilah’s journal:  “No matter the cost, my love, I will do it.  I care not how many must die, or how grave the sins must be that I commit.  I broke the world once for you, Sylas.  I shall do it again, and again, and again, for you.  For us.  Forever.”

Vecna envied the Raven Queen, as her followers did so not just because they feared her, but because they loved and respected her too.

Vecna threatened the assembled protectors of Vasselheim, saying that it would be the perfect place for ambush, but that’s no fun when there are many less-protected loved ones.  People he threatened include Earthbreaker Groon’s daughter (Desir), Vord’s family, J’mon’s concubines, all of Whitestone and particularly Cassandra.  And Young Velora Vessar, “playing alone in her room.”

The Everlight: Redeemer of All

“Comprehension is the only true measure of dominion.”

Pelor, The Dawnfather: The Primordial Light

“Faith is defined by the darkness we have not conquered.”

Ethrid Brokenbranch AKA Sprigg the Obnoxious gets his own book of history by the Cobalt Soul.  Autobiographical writings were found in the wreckage of his house

The Goddess Ioun: Our Knowing Mistress

“Comprehension is the only true measure of dominion.” (This is the same quote as for the Everlight - idk which one is the error.)

The Raven Queen: The Matron of Ravens

“By my grace, all are rendered equal.”

It is forbidden to study Arkhan the Cruel.

Vox Machina lived out the rest of their days in relative happiness and peace.

Percy’s magnum opus is the Clock Tower of Whitestone - a national treasure of Tal’Dorei.

Vex continued to rule as Baroness for a time after Percy’s passing.  Vex saw her bother’s spirit after the birth of her first child.  She reconciled somewhat with her father and showered Velora with love and blessings.

Kaylie went to school at the Alabaster Lyceum in Emon on Scanlan’s dime.

Pike and Scanlan had a lengthy courtship.

Tary’s book The Daring Trials and Tribulations of Ser Taryon Darrington contained an accurate account of his time with Vox Machina, even if nothing else is accurate.

Grog helped Earthbreaker Groon restore the Temple to the Stormlord while staying Vasselheim, defending his title in the Crucible.

The final, actual words of the book that aren’t a dedication or part of an image:  “And as the story is told: ‘Everyday that raven comes to visit.’” ;’(

There is a stunning four page fold-out page of Percy’s clock tower. I cannot emphasize enough how lovely it is.  The end of it dedicates it to Vex and is quoted with, “I couldn’t have asked for a better dream.”

On the other side of the fold-out are some... sketches of Percy’s notes? It seems that Diplomacy is now powered up by Cabal’s Ruin.

 As part of “Cobalt Souls” thank you page: “Within a book, a story can only sleep. It requires a reader to give it life.”

[judgeanon]

20,000th post - How the Hell did I get here?

So... turns out this is post 20,000 in this blog. According to my archive I started it in June 2013, which sounds about right. And I can’t rightly remember why I started it, which sounds even more right. Probably to stalk some friends.

Anyway, for those who recently joined in, hello, I’m Judge Anon. I like comics a lot. I like reading them, I like writing them, and occasionally I like dropping massive walls of text about them on unsuspecting fellows like cartoon anvils.

I’m the main (read: only) writer in FILTHY SLEEVES STUDIOS, an online repository of short sci-fi and fantasy stories drawn by the ineffable thelastinterceptor, who was sufficiently bamboozled by my big words to want to draw a bunch of my scripts. I fully expect him to come to his senses any day now, but in the meantime, please click on the title if you’d like to see what we’ve been getting up to.

I’m also a big fan the British sci-fi anthology 2000 AD, and have written several stories for their fanzines Zarjaz and Dogbreath. You can learn more about that HERE.  I’ve also been a guest in the Mega-City Book Club podcast twice, HERE and HERE. And als related to 2000 AD is my magnum opus of comic book wall-of-textism, A SHORT HISTORY OF FEMALE JUDGES IN JUDGE DREDD, where I catalogue every single appearance of a female judge in the anthology’s flagship title. And if you can’t imagine why anyone would do such a thing, trust me: you’ll find out if you stick around long enough.

I started reading comics (and reading in general) with Asterix the Gaul and Tintin, and I used to be into DC and Marvel quite a bit, but nowadays I’m only really following a couple of their titles and delved more into several indies. I got a long list of creators I’m a big fan of and would follow anywhere, but if I started writing them down I’m sure I’d forget a bunch. But if you ever feel like drowning in a sea of words, ask me anything about Garth Ennis’ body of work, O’Neil/Cowan’s 1987 The Question run (or Lady Shiva), Giffen/Abnett/Lanning’s Marvel Cosmic (esp anything involving Phyla-Vell), Larry Hama’s GI Joe, war and western comics in general, or just Judge Dredd. Satisfaction guaranteed. Maybe.

Beyond comics, I like videogames, mostly single player because I’m a bit antisocial and not terribly hard because I’m just plain bad at games; movies in general, and I’ve been fortunate enough to make friends with a couple of real buffs who’ve introduced me to stuff I’d never have touched otherwise; action figures, first via GI Joe and later through Boss Fight Studio and Marauder Gun-Runners; and the last couple of years I’ve also been getting into pro wrestling via WWE, Lucha Underground, and Stardom. There might be some anime in here every now and then, too. Old habits die hard.

I used to read a lot of books in general but lost that particular habit a few years ago and now I’m trying to recover it, but it’s not going too well I’m afraid. The one thing I can never do is shows, be it on TV or Netflix or whatever. Unless it’s something I already have a strong interest in, I just lack the discipline to sit down and watch 12+ hours of story, even in intervals. Speaking of discipline, I studied three and a half years of communication sciences and later a year and a half of translation until I realized college and me don’t mix well.

I’m in my late 20s and was born and raised in sunny Buenos Aires, Argentina, where I still live. And... that’s about all I can think of for this post. But my ask box is always open in case there’s anything else you’d like to know. Except my real name. Although you can find it (well, some of it) in one of the links in this very post.

Rounding things up, I’d like to thank everyone who’s been there to like, reblog, comment, correct, ask, chat, message and read my stuff. I mostly use this blog to get stuff out of my brain that would otherwise bounce around in my skull endlessly, but I’m incredibly grateful to everyone who takes the time to delve into it, and exceedingly happy to learn that some of you find it interesting or insightful or just plain enjoyable. It might not seem like it, but you all help me a lot. And I hope I can help you all in turn in some way, big or small.

Here’s to post 20,000. And here’s hoping the next 20,000 are even better.

[helmes-deep]

All good things must come to an end...

So the news finally came out yesterday. Can’t say it was totally unexpected: all good things must come to an end; all things must be expected to die someday. Jinyoung’s leaving seemed obvious to me, though Baro’s departure is certainly more surprising (and curious). That being said, I still feel slightly... off. Like the quick, sharp pain of ripping off the band-aid has finally come to pass, yet the mended wound is still clearly there, and I know it won’t feel quite the same as it did before. A part of me feels a little emptier, still misplaced... I still can’t picture B1A4 as 3 members (they’ll always be 5 to me, but y’all know what I mean :p): reading the news yesterday, it still all just doesn’t compute, haha.

Granted, I haven’t really been as excited about B1A4 as I have been since pre-Sweet Girl era (those of you who know me probably know that I haven’t really liked anything they’ve done since their magnum opus SOLO DAY :P). This might sound appalling, even abhorrent, to some, but upon hearing the news of B1A4 re-negotiating—and then extending—their contracts, I had much rather preferred that they disband altogether instead of staying as a fragmented group (I just hate imperfect, “unhappy” endings :///). As far as I was concerned, it was time to end it: B1A4′s fame, while not entirely extinct, was pretty much over, and their prime had come and gone (with or without the help of WM’s terrible management post-Sweet Girl era 🙄). Despite my declining level of interest with B1A4 within the past few years, however, not once did I ever not consider them to be my ultimate bias group. No matter what happened, I’d always come back to them. There’s just something so special about this group of “country-dol” boys—something so sweet, charming, endearing, precious, and truly amazing that I couldn’t quite find anywhere else—that I couldn’t ever bear to fully part with, no matter what other groups I got into or was later interested in. After Super Junior, B1A4 was the second K-pop group I really got into; they are also the first (and probably the last) group that I seriously, seriously got into. They’re such a group of talented, sweet, loving, and amazing people, and I honestly can’t think of my ultimate bias group ever changing. B1A4 have always been my number one and always will be, no matter what happens. They will always hold a very, very special place in my heart 💖🌱✨

I’ve never viewed a K-pop group’s 7-year run as their “7-year curse.” To me, it’s always made sense that a group lives on to be about 7 years old or so, before having to part ways or face some significant changes. Nothing lasts forever; nothing can live for eternity. Even when B1A4 debuted all the way back in 2011, when we were all perhaps too young or naive to realize it, one thing was for certain—their debut also signified their death, their inevitable end: the group to disband, the members’ needs to move on to bigger, better, and different things. So, rather than dwelling on B1A4′s “end” (which is only natural; I’m absolutely not saying that we should ignore, suppress, or dismiss such feelings), I’d rather focus on what they did accomplish within their magnificent 7-year run:

B1A4 literally built their company WM Entertainment from the ground up. They established not only their own presence and WM’s within the K-pop industry, but also helped to open the door for their juniors, such as Oh My Girl and ONF. And you cannot tell me that this didn’t have some effect, no matter how small, in helping K-pop lovers and wider audiences realize the value of, and also pay attention to, K-pop groups that come from smaller, less recognized/not-“Big 3”-companies. Being able to establish yourself within a highly competitive industry, as well as establish and solidify your company’s bearings, is no small task, yet B1A4 have been able to do this while still staying humble, grateful, respectful, considerate, and (mostly) staying out of trouble :p

B1A4 has blessed us with some GREAT music. Seriously, a lot of their songs have brought so much happiness and joy into my life (even though I know I probably sometimes complain about their musical direction a lot post-Sweet Girl era :pp). And it is clear that I’m not the only one whom they have positively affected through their music. Looking over y’all’s posts and reading y’all’s comments, it is clear that B1A4 was able to offer so many people such great joy, happiness, and hope through their music. And that, to be quite honest, is really AMAZING. Despite, I’m sure, of the boys being aware of how much time they had to accomplish what they needed—and wanted—to accomplish, I’m sure it’s a comfort to them knowing that their music and live performances have had a positive impact on so many individuals.

Seriously, they accomplished a lot. A notable, long discography filled with many solid, quality releases is just one of them. Even outside of B1A4, these five precious boys have done so much. Jinyoung has become a very respected and well-known composer and producer. Sandeul's been (generally) recognized as a vocal powerhouse. CNU’s gained recognition as a musical actor and singer. Baro’s also a noted actor, and Gongchan’s known for... well, doing his own thing, LEOL!! Each of these boys has accomplished so much during these past 7 years—you just can’t tell me that it should all be considered a “curse.” They’ve each come so far, and I am so freaking proud of them :’3

I hope that each of the boys’ decisions was the one they truly wanted. I wish all the best for Jinyoung, Baro, CNU, Sandeul, and Gongchan moving forward. There are still a lot of questions up in the air, especially in regard to Jinyoung’s and Baro’s futures and how B1A4 will be executed within the upcoming days, but overall, I hope it ends well for each of them. I’m happy there doesn’t seem to be any conflict between the members and that things ended amicably between them (and WM). And I hope, despite them being separated, that every now and then, they’ll pop up in each other’s radar (one can dream, ALRIGHT?!?!?!? xD). Their “death” or “ending” or “disbandment,” whatever you want to call it, could have ended in many other, and potentially much more nasty or disastrous, ways. In a sense, I’m glad it’s ended the way that it has. Things can’t stay the same forever; people have to, and will, change. That being said, I think there’s still a lot of positive stuff to look forward to. While this might be the “end” of B1A4, I don’t think it’s necessarily the end for each of the members. Jinyoung, I’m fairly sure, is still going to be heavily involved within the K-pop/entertainment industry. I’m not so sure about Baro, but I don’t think we’ve heard the last of him yet. And, of course, we’re sure to hear about CNU, Sandeul, and Gongchan soon since they’ve opted to stay with WM and continue on as B1A4. So it’s not quite over yet; the end hasn’t entirely happened upon us :pp But no matter what lies ahead, I want them to know that I’ll always love them, and I’ll always support them—no matter what happens. Whatever they decide to do or wherever they wish to go next—I’ll be right there with them. All I want to see is for them to fly high and to reach their dreams~ 🌱