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chelseachilly · 7 months

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THIS LOVE - chapter six | i wish you would come back

pairing: ben chilwell x reader

rating: T

word count: 1.8k

summary: ben's in ibiza with his friends, and he can't stop thinking about you...he just needs a little help figuring out why

A/N: long time no see! it's been a crazy few weeks - i moved, then i got sick, then work got super busy - so i'm sorry i haven't had time to update! i'm going on a little holiday this weekend so i wanted to get this out before i did 🩵 i hope you enjoy the switch up to ben's pov ;) xx

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Ben should be feeling like he’s on top of the world. He’s staying at a luxury villa in Ibiza with his best mates, coming off a big win and a goal for his country. He’s young, healthy, and successful. He should be enjoying life at the moment.

Instead, he just feels like shit.

He’s felt like shit from the moment you walked away from him at Wembley, declaring the end of your fake relationship. It felt like a knife to the gut when you left him standing there, unaware of what he did wrong, wanting so badly to chase after you but knowing he shouldn’t.

He sat through an entire, agonizingly long dinner full of people celebrating and congratulating him on the goal, and all he wanted was to pull out his phone and call you to make sure you were okay.

The next morning, Mason, Harvey, Tom and Woody practically dragged him to the airport and onto the private plane they’d booked weeks ago. It’s a rare week off for both Ben and Mason, so they wanted to make the most of it. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

In the past, a boys week in Ibiza was his idea of paradise. It meant days spent poolside catching up with the lads and relaxing before returning to his busy schedule. And the nights were usually dedicated to going to some swanky club and leaving with a hot girl.

This time, it’s been three days of their five-day holiday, and Ben hasn’t left the villa once. He’s been sulking in his bedroom half the time, and generally bringing down the mood even when he tries to force himself to have fun with the boys.

He’s sent you a few texts to no response, and he would’ve been genuinely concerned for your safety if it weren’t for the fact that he could still see your Instagram stories - specifically one of you out drinking with some coworkers, including a good-looking guy apparently named Matt, who Ben may or may not have stalked on social media. The bastard - who Ben’s never met - may only have three photos, none of which are particularly offensive, but Ben knows for a fact he doesn’t deserve you.

The morning of the fourth day, he comes out of his room around ten looking for something to eat for breakfast, which he’s slept through every other morning so far, and is instead served with what can only be described as an intervention.

All the guys are sat around the table, drinking coffee and staring him down as he trudges out in just his boxers - perks of a lads trip - still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“You need to tell us what happened with you and Y/N,” Tom says firmly as soon as Ben sits down at the table and pours himself a cup of coffee.

He just groans and takes a long sip before answering. It’s way too early for this.

“I already told you, I kissed her in front of the cameras, then she got weird and ran off,” Ben repeats the exact same brief recap he gave them on the flight here. “I followed her out and she said she couldn’t pretend to date me anymore and that she needed space.”

“Yeah, we know that part,” Harvey says. “And I get that you’re disappointed she’s bailing on the PR thing-“

“I don’t give a fuck about that,” Ben interrupts, a bit dramatically clanking his mug down on the table. “Look, I’m sorry I’m bringing down the holiday vibe, but my best friend isn’t returning my calls and I’m worried about her.”

Although most of the people at this table could make a case for being Ben’s best friend, and under better circumstances would probably joke offense at his statement, there’s nothing but silence. They all know what you mean to Ben, the place that you occupy in his life and in his heart. It’s…different.

“She’s fine, mate,” Mason says softly after a minute. He’s always the calm, level-headed one in these situations, and although Ben is typically grateful for his presence, he feels white hot rage within himself right now.

“You talked to her?”

“She texted me back yesterday and said she’s alright and she’s just taking a beat,” Mason responds, speaking carefully as if he’s afraid of saying too much. “Look, I know you feel shitty because you and Y/N got into a fight and she’s not talking to you. But have you thought about why she might have ended this thing?”

Ben runs a hand over his face. “I told you, Mase, I have no bloody idea-“

“Just think about it, Ben,” Tom chimes in. “She agreed to be your fake girlfriend, basically giving up any chance of having her own dating life during that time. Then she gets upset and bails right after you kissed her for show, in front of a bunch of people?”

Ben’s chest tightens as he realizes what his friends are implying, but he immediately shakes his head. It’s ridiculous. There’s no way you, his best friend, have feelings for him.

“No,” he says simply. “That’s not…she doesn’t…she would’ve said something.”

“Why would she?” Harvey asks, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not like you’ve told her.”

Everyone goes silent again as all eyes fall on Ben, who just nearly choked on his coffee as he processed Harvey’s words.

“What are you-I’m not-“

“Mate, I say this because I care about you,” Harvey continues. “You need to get your head out of your arse and just admit that you’re in love with her already.”

Of course he loves you. His best friend since the age of six, his rock, his favourite person on the planet. He’s loved you since before he knew what love was.

Except he can’t be in love with you, because that kind of love ends. He’s seen it end, when his parents got divorced and when his friends have had devastating breakups. He’s seen people fall in love and fall out just as quickly. And that can’t be you and him. He can’t lose you.

“Harvey, it’s not like that,” Ben says quietly. “She’s…Y/N. She’s my best friend.”

“Yeah, but she’s always been more than that, hasn’t she?” Mason says. “I mean, the bond between you guys, it’s not like what you have with any of us, right?”

“Well, no, but-“

“When I first met you I thought you were already dating her,” Nathan admits. “I told Mase I’d never seen a guy so whipped and when he told me you weren’t together, I was shocked.”

“And you’ve hated all of her boyfriends,” Tom adds. “Even the nice ones.”

“They’ve all been dickheads,” Ben replies, though he knows that’s not entirely true.

“You two have always been more than friends,” Mason continues. “I love you, bro, but she literally took weeks off work to take care of you after you did your ACL. She moved in with you and drove you to every physio appointment until you were on your feet again. And then last year when you realized you were gonna be out for the World Cup and you felt like shit, she was the only person you would talk to. I think that’s when I knew for sure how you felt about her.”

Ben still remembers that night like it was yesterday - he was in the treatment room at Stamford Bridge, icing his leg, already knowing tomorrow’s scans would confirm what he felt the moment he landed wrong, and he was so upset about missing Qatar that he barely spoke when the coach and some of his teammates came to see him. And then he heard your voice in the hall, grilling the medical team to ensure he was receiving proper care, and he smiled for the first time since he limped off the pitch that night.

You ran in, pushing past Mason to wrap Ben up in a tight hug and tell him everything would be okay, and despite how terrible things were at the moment, he felt so at peace in your arms.

“Mason’s right,” Tom says sincerely. “And it’s probably why none of these girls you hook up with feel right. You’ve already got your heart somewhere else.”

Ben feels his head spinning as he replays every meaningless one night stand he’s had, how something had always been missing.

He thinks about how it feels when he sees you in the stands at the Bridge, especially when you’re wearing his kit, and the way just seeing you gives him the confidence to be a better player.

And, more importantly, how you make him a better person - how he’s constantly in awe of your career and how you help people, how it inspires him to try to do more to make the world a better place. How you’ve turned down expensive Christmas and birthday gifts from him every year and directed him to a charity worth donating to instead.

He thinks about how you’ve stood by his side all these years, even when he was a cocky kid coming up in the Premier League and when he’s been a bit of a dick, you’ve always kept him from straying too far from himself. Through all the injuries, through every win and loss, you’ve been there.

He thinks about how you literally agreed to this ridiculous, elaborate PR scheme just because he asked you to, sacrificing your own free time and privacy to help him out.

Finally, he thinks about how right it’s felt pretending to be your boyfriend. It’s been almost second nature holding your hand and telling people how wonderful you are. It felt as easy as breathing to kiss you, and though he knows he shouldn’t have done it in a room full of people, he can’t bring himself to regret it. Kissing you was pretty much the best moment of his life, which means seeing you walk away from him on the verge of tears minutes later was probably the worst.

But while he’s been beating himself up this entire holiday over the fact that he kissed you and the fact that he dragged you into this fake relationship, he now realizes that wasn’t his mistake.

The issue is that he should have done it a long time ago, and it should’ve been for real.

“Shit,” Ben mutters under his breath. “I’m in love with Y/N.”

“Finally, he admits it!” Harvey grins, patting Ben on the back firmly.

The rest of the boys grin and chime in with their agreement, but Ben is already rising from the table and pulling up flights on his phone.

“Where you going, mate?” Mason asks with a smug grin on his face.

“Home, I don’t want to wait until tomorrow,” Ben says with a nervous smile. “Wish me luck, boys.”

As he begins to jog back to his bedroom so he can quickly pack and get to the airport in time for the next flight, he hears Harvey call out from the kitchen.

“Don’t forget trousers!”

a/n: and off he goes!! sorry for the slight cliffhanger but i hope you guys liked this one, as you can imagine i'm very excited to share the next (and last, except for the epilogue) part and am already working on it!! let me know what you thought of ben's pov and any predictions for the ending! tag list: @captainwans @amandaaa1025 @bbygrlllllll @ncentic@lunamelona @kathb59 @cinderellawithashoe @batmansb1tch @myheartgoesvroom @chillymountsjess @babygirlbenji @delicateearthquakellama @joyfullyswimmingface @xxenia14 @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @chilwellspulisic @maraudersmap123 @evelinapurmale @freekoalakryptonite (let me know if you would like to be added or if i missed you!)

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell imagine #ben chilwell x y/n #chelsea fc imagine #this love

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dangermousie · 9 months

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Farscape Rewatch: Self-Inflicted Wounds, 2x03 and 2x04

First off, these are some of the best titles. So Good!

Farscape summed up.

Or perhaps this is:

(Though perhaps this one is more applicable to the next episode, Different Destinations, which to me is the bleakest Farscape episode ever.)

SIW is a two-parter I don't like as much as I should, all things considered. Maybe it's too much technobabble, or a bit of an odd pacing (it should have been a one-and-a-half parter, if there is such a thing, not a two parter). This said, Zhaaaaaaaaaaan. *wails* It makes sense from story point (nothing is for free, life for a life) and from behind the scenes point as poor Virginia Hey was getting ill from the make-up, but still...wail! Non-Zhaan stuff out of the way first: I get totally annoyed with the crew in this one when they blame Crichton for what happened. Zhaan gets a pass because she is dying, but I want to smack the rest of them silly. How is this Crichton's fault? How? It's just the Moyans' rotten luck. Pilot was the one who stopped the ship when they saw a wormhole, and they were there for a millisecond only before the pathfinders' ship crashed into them. They wouldn't have time to get out of the way regardless of anything, even Pilot stopping. And yeah, he trusted the aliens. But hey, even without wormholes, John is often too trusting, this is about the last spark of it. And considered abandoning ship but so did they all! But any 'selfishness' is certainly traumatized out of him with this. But then the crew doesn't really believe it's Crichton's fault: if they did, his throat would be ripped out. It's just a convenient target for frustrations. And hello, Crichton? Would take it and ask for more. So this ep ends with Crichton enjoying his favorite game: guilt and self-blame for something not really his fault. Oh yes. But come on guys, just because he is there and available, doesn't mean you should do it! If you think about it, they subconsciously know, I think, that they can do it to him. Can you imagine the uselessness or the harm if they tried doing a genuinely blame session to D'Argo or Aeryn or Rygel? But Crichton likes to inflict blame and punishment on himself.

Harvey! Beginning of such brilliant, brilliant Harvey scenes! And I loved the brief guy-to-guy discussion between D'Argo and John: what if you try your best and it's not enough? That is something everyone on board Moya is familiar with. And John and Aeryn? Work so in unison. Heck, Aeryn is beginning to develop her own unworthiness issues as her convo with Zhaan shows. (I love the bit where Zhaan highlights similarities between them. She forgot to add 'we love insane men' to the list though). And there was this epic exchange:

That’s the thing that I always forget watching early S1 Crichton, his eyes open in wonder: it took a certain kind of person to get himself in the position to get into a wormhole even if unknowingly. He might be gentle and sweet and scientific when the thing starts, but it takes a certain kind of insanity and reckless bravery to go up in space flying basically an assmbled kit plane that you devised by yourself to test a completely random theory! Much more insane and risk-taking than his Dad who after all followed proper established procedures devised by others when he went. And then there is the scientific crazy curiosity that got him up there in the first, proving that he can be obsessive enough to not care about risk when he is really into it. Jool? God, I'd forgotten how irritating she was when she first joined. I ended up liking her by the end, but seriously, I want to strangle her. Crichton is being amazingly patient with her even when she tries to off him (probably out of obligation/guilt) but argh. I love Chiana's smackdown of her. And Zhaan's. But I like her around because I love seeing nasty things happen to her. Some relief from the darkness of S3: bad things happening to someone you actually don't like. Also, because of her we get exchanges like this:

Despite my snark about her, I confess I like Jool, and she does grow up. Mainly, I think, I am always a bit sympathetic to her even from the start, because I know that if I ended up in an unknown part of the world with lunatics, I'd be a lot more likely to be whiny like Jool and not awesome like John. Talk about a vacation gone wrong!

Chiana is wonderful too: so young, so brave, so scared. Yet so unwilling to abandon Moya. Crying to Zhaan about it. What a difference from season 1, when she was all for getting off at the least sign of trouble and Moya be damned. But they do have a bond, don't they? And I love that despite the implosion of that romance, D’Argo still cares for her, there is no cruelty or gloating in him. This is real and complex.

Other things? I love Stark in these eps. From his subtle manipulation of Rygel (by telling him Pilot likes him) from his snarking (when Rygel says he didn't vote for staying or leaving Moya. Rygel makes me want to choke him in these eps) that yeah, Rygel voted because 'I was your proxy.' Heh. And the bit with Jool, when the snitty bitch is having her little hissy fit and he flips on her because they are all dead, and his love is dead. And he tells her he will show her something that will make her weep forever. Stark can be scary! Oh, and the bits with Zhaan, from his seeing her look at her ravaged face in the mirror, and he is silent behind the door, and crying.

To her trying to prepare him and his refusal. To the end, when he runs around like a trapped animal trying to get to her.

To when he helps her cross-over. Ohhhh, my lovely secondary ship.

I love the bit at the end when Aeryn wants to know why he isn't flipping and he is, in a contained way, and tells her it's because Zhaan was so at peace (and of course, death is what he knows best). But of course, his 'dealing' is temporary and comes and goes, as he admits to her (and see him crazed in DD). Zhaan and Stark are very yin-yang because in SIW he tells her he has a darkness which frightens lovers away but he is amazingly good despite it, and she is, after all, the good peaceful spiritual being who is, at the same time, had serious darkness and overcame madness. They are more similar than it appears at first glance.

I love Zhaan in this ep so much. She is scared yet brave, determined yet frail. And her farewell is lovely. I love how she hits exactly the hidden thing in each of her crewmates (D'Argo's sensitivity, John's innocence). And of course, the ep ends with John and Harvey, dressed in funeral attire. And even Harvey blames John! WTF!!!!!! (But Harvey is, after all, Scorpius blended with John so it’s really John blaming himself.) And ends with John throwing his bottle at the screen, shattering it.

What a bleak ending. And that blame and self-blame are not fair. John is NOT selfish. He has a few things he would give anything for (AERYN. AERYN. AERYN) but that is true for anyone who is not a saint. Moyans have certainly done a lot of unforgivable things when their wishes were strong. Remember D'Argo, Zhaan and Rygel hacking off Pilot's arm for a chance at the map? Remember Chi and her stealing and thus unleashing the virus that leads to the Gammack Base and everything else etc? (Aeryn is rather exempt because she's been brought up to not want anything). Remember Moya's irrationality about Talyn? Their desires lead to anything from sheer irresponsibility and catastrophes because of recklessness to predetermined badness. John is obsessed with going home and wormholes (though even now, I think he is too damaged for Earth already, and not as much obsessed with them as with Aeryn). But I am sorry, comparing him with the actions above? Are you kidding? Considering giving up the ship that is dying but ultimately not? Wanting to check out wormholes for a second but not even having a chance to before the collision? (It's not like they were parked there for an hour and that's how they got hit). Seriously, the guy has enough self-loathing. He does not need any more. Lay off, the guy is already broken. But how realistic and human all that blame and self-blame are. Next? Different Destinations, and then Eat Me and the joy of two Crichtons: double your character, double your pain. This season is unrelentingly bleak.

#farscape

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lemonsrosesandlavender · 17 days

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THINGS THAT I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW ABOUT MY FELLOW WRITERS

this is a super fun tag prompt list, thanks @littleplasticrat!

tagging: @commander-krios @graysparrowao3 and anyone else who wants it!

here we go ✨ below the cut for considerable length, discussion of my generally E-rated work and brief unpopular opinions (lol).

Last book I read: I’m currently part way through The Left Hand of Darkness (Ursula K Le Guin) and Exhalation (Ted Chiang), and am in a constant state of rereading Pride and Prejudice. Honestly just been writing more than reading lately but I really want to finish these two books! I also devoured The New Topping Book as fuel for my Steel Weave kink adventures, lmao.

Greatest literary inspiration: Pride and Prejudice. Austen in general. (Story time) I once dated a guy who dismissed her books out of hand as ‘gossipy’, and then literally days later proceeded to tell me that when drinking with his bestie, they loved to ‘analyse other people’s personalities.’ What he thought he had that Austen didn’t, I don’t know. (God, the sexism. And yes, I did tell him that what he was doing was in fact also gossiping).

Austen sketches people in all their ignorance and kindness and flaws and virtues at once, whilst being deeply funny about it. I love her work.

Things in my current fandom I want to read but I don't want to write:

I LOVE omeluum x blurg. No desire to write for them but they’re great. (Check out weatheredlaw on AO3 for amazing Omelurg!)

Generally I’ve read and enjoyed for all of the tadpole gang and all sorts of other characters, but aside from having them feature in my Rolan fics the urge doesn’t strike me to write about them. My thoughts are extremely occupied with just the one guy.

Things in my current fandoms I want to write but I think nobody would be interested in them but me: Unhinged kink fics. If I ever write them, I’ll probably post on an alt account, because I think my current subscribers probably aren’t looking for [redacted niche kink] lol

You can recognise my writing by:

Relentlessly horny vibes. Bratty Rolan.

I honestly don’t know if I’ve got a particularly recognisable style - it varies a lot between the fandoms I write in, I think. I’m not given to lots of purple prose but neither is my writing spare. I overdo it on facial expressions, that’s for sure!

My most controversial take ( current fandom):

In an absolute shocker, I don’t enjoy dom!Rolan at all, or see it as particularly in-character. But you could guess that already if you’re following me lol. I filter all related tags/content liberally…

Current writing mood (10 – super motivated and churning out words like crazy, 0 – in a complete rut): It was a 9-10, and has been for months - but this week I’ve been smacked in the face with a real stumbling block so I’ll give it a (hopefully temporary) 6-7

Top three favourite tropes: Oooh. Ahhhh. Forced Proximity - only one bed, handcuffed together, trapped in a lift - whatever. Just make those people boil over with desire because they CANNOT AVOID the person they’re desperately trying to. Arguing. I love steamy argumentative kissing in stories. Forbidden Love. I am ESPECIALLY a huge fan of priests/nuns/religiously celibate breaking their vows, but doctor/patient is good too (Harvey SDV my beloved), or university professor/student, or sworn members of separate factions. Whatever. I want that sexual tension to be so fucking scorching it breaks through every barrier, and their love to conquer all.

Share a random frustration: Chapter 10 of Planar Tears. It’s coming along now but - I don’t like falling behind schedule! It’s also once again illustrated to me that although outlining is useful, at some points my characters will just develop a mind of their own. I just realised that after the last two extremely dramatic plot chapters - there needs to be a similarly dramatic step in Rolan and Catrin’s relationship as payoff. I think that’s the issue, anyway. I’d written a load of relatively lowkey flirty fluff and it just. Wasn’t. Hitting. I have honestly entered the stage of ‘please fucking kill me I no longer know if this writing is good’ and think I just have to weather the storm here!

#cabbage was tagged #cabbage writes #fanfic

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intrepidradish · 1 year

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Tldr: John Crichton saved Scorpius's life

Spoilers for the end of Farscape and the Peacekeeper Wars

I always feel like my meta is shit, and proves I'm obsessive, but here you go.

Let's talk about Scorpius's revenge. At the start of the show, he's working for the Peacekeepers to find a way to slaughter all Scarrans. He has decided that the best way to do this is using wormhole tech. He then meets John, and he realizes he needs John to succeed in his ultimate goal, genocide.

However, he doesn't really achieve genocide. Instead he achieves a peace treaty. The Scarrans live. They don't suffer, and they have a brighter, less cruel future with the Eidolons. He seems content with this outcome, but how does it satisfy his hunger for revenge?

The Scarrans aren't punished.

Let's rewind a little. That article recently about Harvey and John Crichton's trauma got me thinking. Yes John is new to trauma but you know who isn't ... Scorpius. He's trauma incarnate. He has so much unprocessed trauma. His idea of processing what happened to him is work for years, possibly decades, possibly centuries(???) to murder an entire alien race.

Which, if you know the tropes about revenge arcs, will be ultimately unsatisfying. Murdering people doesn't heal the murderer even if they deserve it (and I'd like to point out that the entire Scarran race doesn't deserve it. They even showed us a nice scarran in the show. Farscape is too morally gray to make an entire race evil. It goes against the themes.)

Scorpius is a logical guy but he's got many many things against him. He tends to think in absolutes (*gestures to the genocide*) When he gets impatient, people suffer and often die (*gestures to Aeryn's death and the 10000 slaves*). He is woefully bad at recognizing his emotions outside of which ones make his body heat up and cause physical pain (*gestures to all the time he gets angry and then feels bad about later.*)

And his solution to his trauma is murdering the Scarrans. He is inflexible in this and that is absolutely batshit crazy delusional.

Crichton sees that. Whereas other people want to (ab)use that to its logical end, more accumulated power for themselves.

Let's play a game, imagine Scorpius successfully gained access to the wormhole weapon without John. He would use it. Destroy the Scarrans and then... probably kill himself.

If you're looking at me like wtf? Hear me out.

Who really killed his mother? Scorpius did. Rape didn't kill her. Rape made her go crazy. But giving birth to Scorpius is what ultimately killed her. If Scorpius followed through with killing all the Scarrans, the only person left to punish would be himself. He wouldn't have found another solution. He wouldn't have come to terms with anything but violence and hatred, I think ultimately would lead him into suicide or at least extreme risk taking behavior. Poetically, he'd probably die from the wormhole weapon. Nice and neat. Everyone that's guilty dead at once. Maybe the rest of the universe would go too. Simple.

The fact that John was so headstrong about Scorpius's fucking crazy plan gave Scorpius several moments of pause. After all no one else was going to stop him. His plan benefited them too much!

I don't know where Scorpius started to wake up to the idea maybe he didn't want to kill everyone. We don't get a lot of insight into his thought process. I'd like to think something changed before he went looking for Aeryn, his boarding ticket for getting on Moya in Season 4. That would be after being "killed" by Grayza and buried in a ditch. Maybe he did some self reflection for once. Maybe he soured on the Peacekeepers a little. Maybe he took a look at his own fragile morality and thought 'This isn't the peace I'm looking for.'

Because on Moya, suddenly he's fine with any solution to the Scarran problem and it's less about his revenge and more about the galaxy's safety. He's also trying to appeal to John's human morality (a foreign concept for him). He's still a manipulative bastard. But he came around to this altered plan, didn't he?

Peace with his enemies. Not death .

John helped him consider alternatives. Scorpius found peace regarding his mother's death and gets to live now. How's that for some healed trauma!

#meta #my writing #scorpius farscape #farscape #suicide #spoilers

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danny-chase · 3 years

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wait selina had her own protege? Tell me more 🥺

[Image ID: A young girl (maybe like 13-15) with hazel (yellowish) eyes and short brown hair. She's wearing a lot of eye makeup, a little hat with cat ears, and goggles. She wears a tie, pink vest, and grey t-shirt with pawprints. End ID]

Batman (1940) #642

Kitrina Falcone - link to wiki

She was a Catwoman copy cat (haha sorry i couldn't help it) who grew up with her abusive uncle (Mario Falcone - he literally tries to kill her in the arc she's in, she calls him uncle - but others claim she's his little sister and she claims she's Carmine's daughter) and lived on the streets for a while. She looked up to Catwoman and imitated her, but Selina steals some of her maps (i think like blueprints for heists or smth idk) so she breaks in to Selina's house to steal them back.

At this point she was working for Penguin (she bombed a place it was a whole thing) - her map making skills are vital for taking down/locating Black Mask so she's vital (she's doing this for the bounty). And she and Selina get on and Selina gives her a costume and she becomes Catgirl.

[Image ID: Selina Kyle as Catwoman and Kitrina Falcone as Catgirl stand on a rooftop next to each other with the moon illuminating them. The Catgirl costume has a studded silver belt and collar, black claw-like gloves, black leggings, and a black tank. There are pink zagging stripes on the side of the torso and back of her calf that have silver behind them. She also wears pink ankle high converse with a purple cat icon patch on the side. She has a mini cowl with cat ears that are pink on the inside and pink scale-like bracelets/ruffles at the end of her gloves. Narration boxes (Dick): Or in this case, in the reflection I catch out of the corner of my eye - the swift and agile movement in the reflection of the windows across the street. Selina: He's gone, Catgirl. Kitrina: I want to follow him. I bet he has a cool hideout. Selina: No. You have much to learn... and lesson one starts tonight. End ID]

Batman (1940) #697

Idk if she has any appearances as Catgirl, but following her appearances listed in the wiki she lives with Selina for a while until Dick tries to talk her into going to boarding school (with Selina also on board) on orders from Bruce.

[Image ID: Dick and Kitrina argue on a rooftop, Dick as Batman and Kitrina in a white tank top and pink pajama pants. Narration box: I don't have much time to spare on a night like tonight. But Bruce wants Kitrina Falcone out of Gotham. I can't say I disagree. Dick: The Aldridge Boarding School for girls is one of the best in the country, Kitrina. It's everything you need. Kitrina: And nothing I want. Dick: You can't have what you want. I'm taking that away from you. Kitrina Why are you acting like such a dork? I've proven myself. I helped you. Are you forgetting all the - Dick: You're young enough... smart enough to have a normal life. And you're an opportunist... take the one I'm giving yo - Kitrina: No one gives me anything. I take. I have everything I need here. Support. Training. Selina (off panel): Listen to him, Kitrina. End ID]

Batman (1940) #710

Dick lecturing a kid about not being a child vigilante is just jdfklajdkfla hypocrite XD

Anyways from here on, she runs ahead on the case they're working on (i skimmed didn't actually read it) leaving him clues and such it's like the typical young vigilante storyline of being over confident. She gets in over her head, Dick catches up and bails her out - she runs (because this one actually has self preservation instincts unlike the 934758 other batfam characters). Dick gets shot in the head (again - but don't worry the cowl redistributed its impact *sigh* this man has so much head trauma, but comic book logic) by Harvey Dent's wife Gilda no less and wakes up later and finds this letter.

[Image ID: Dick looks down at a paper, bandages are wrapped around his forehead. He's drawn with blocky features there art style isn't doing him any favors. Dick: A letter from Kitrina Flacone. The note reads: Dear Batman, I am writing to keep you from worrying about what became of me. I wouldn't want you to think that "Catgirl" got in over her head. Or was kidnapped, or killed. They show the side of a travelling bus. Note: I'm leaving voluntarily. In fact, I'm going to try out that school you signed me up for. It's probably a dumb idea... but I'm a girl who likes challenges. Kitrina sits looking into the window, seeing her reflection as Catgirl, earbuds in her ears. Note: And putting up with a bunch of rich prissy debutantes will be a challenge. I'm sure I'll put a few of them on their rears by the time it's over. But the point I'm making is, don't count me out. I'll be back. And I will be bad-assed. - Sincerely, K End ID]

Batman (1940) #712

The arc itself is pretty dry and follows a pattern we've already seen from DC comics. Also she's like "I'll be back" and DC just went sike. So. Yeah. Reboot messed her stuff up. It's annoying to me that they made Lian Selina's new protégé or whatever when they already had this storyline right here, and to have Jade drop her off like that is ooc, especially because Roy was right there as well. And while Kitrina might not be for everyone personality wise, I personally would love to see her kick rich kids asses at boarding school. Or just have her train under Selina - because at the least she already grew up watching Selina and trying to emulate her, both in personality and in the skills she taught herself - so the connection for this character is already there - whereas "Shoes" just came out of nowhere.

Another thing I find kind of funny is the popularity of "Stray" fics, because she hits some of the same beats I've heard about (i haven't read any though this is second hand knowledge). To my understanding, when someone (Tim or Jason) is stray, they grow up on the streets trying to escape familial abuse (which she does) and eventually is taken in by Catwoman (which she is) and becomes her protégé (again which canonically happened to this character). Though she doesn't interact with her respective Robin (Damian at the time) too much which i think is also usually a part of said fics.

Anyways here's her being called a stray lakdfjaslfdj

[Image ID: Kitrina as Catgirl slams into a car, Riddler's daughter following after her. Riddler's daughter: I need to warn you. I hate cats. Kitrina is kicked through the cars windshield. Riddler's daughter: Especially strays. Kitrina: Oofh! End ID]

Batman (1940) #711

I have no idea if this is a coincidence or not - this character has very few appearances, which date back to the Dick!Bats era - so i assume most of this fandom doesn't actually know who she is, but it's possible one of the first "Stray" fics used her as inspiration.

Also she freaking bit Dick as Batman which i find hilarious - i know fandom makes a big thing about Damian being a biter but like:

[Image ID: Kitrina bites someone's gloved forearm - it's Dick as Batman but you can't tell from the panel, forcing him to drop a knife. There's a chomp sound effect. Kitrina: What're ya? Crazy?! You're not killing him! Dick: Umff!]

Batman (1940) #696

*CHOMP*

#I also found a panel of Steph biting the Black Mask during War Games and i was like yes get him!!!#thanks for the ask i'm sorry this was so gosh darn long lmao #Kitrina falcone #stray #i wouldn't go looking for stray stuff apparently theres a lot of j*y/t*m which is why i avoid it #and allow the more dedicated individuals wade through the trash and tell me about it #either which way i'm literally so angry they chose to do a stupid ass plot with Lian instead of just bringing her back #like dc please read your own comic book canon and then we can talk #asks #batfam #little known batfam members #batfamily #catwoman #catgirl #dc comics #selina kyle

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stardancerluv · 3 years

Text

Love at The Black Mask Club

Summary: Roman grows annoyed and craves you in the middle of a busy night.

Note/Warning: I used a shot from Moulin Rouge, used Eric Roberts as Falcone instead Maronie, and shots of Ewan from Guys and Dolla. Dom!Daddy!Kink, possessiveness, wiling gagging, fingering female receiving, semi-public sex, also this is like 4 months into their relationship.

Roman pulled on his sleeve, the cufflink twinkled as his annoyance grew. Penguin was beginning to ramble. Falcone looked at him before pulling on his cigar.

He took a sip from his scotch. He let his eyes wander around the club. There was a blur of people dancing in front of the stage. He didn’t spot you. Where the fuck had you gone, he mused.

“So Roman, can I rent the VIP lounge Sunday?”

“Huh?”

“He’s looking for his girl.” Whispered Falcone to Penguin who sat near him.

“What was that?” snapped Roman.

Falcone shook his head. “Nothing of importance.”

Penquin’s beak twitched, he squawked mirth shining in his small black eyes. He readjusted his monocle. “I asked can I rent the VIP lounge on Sunday?”

“You won’t be bringing in a buffet of raw fish will you?” Roman asked dryly.

Falcone coughed, sounding more like a choke. “Roman come on, he didn’t really do that, did he?”

Roman rose an eyebrow, “You ask him.”

Penguin shifted. “I knew me and my crew would get hungry.”

Falcone made a disgusted face.

Roman rolled his eyes. “Are we done?”

No sooner did he ask than when the screechy voice he hated more than Penguin’s fishy scent called his name and she was across his lap, with a lazy arm around this throat and a clammy hand on his cheek. “Romy! I’ve missed you!”

He narrowed his eyes at her, he was in no mood. “Get the fuck off me.” He breathed. His anger bubbling in him.

“What? You’re not happy to see me? No kiss?” She drew close, her sickly sweet perfume began to fill his nose.

He pushed her off and stood up. Harley stumbled, but easily found her footing. Quickly, she was smiling and clinging to Joker’s side who had just walked up.

Falcone reached for him. “Calm down Sionis, she is only playing.”

He turned and looked at him.

Falcone raised his hand. “All right, she went too far.”

Joker’s cackle filled the still air that fell over the club. “I see my girl is getting herself in trouble.” He threw his head back and chuckled.

Roman looked over the club. People had stopped dancing and were gaping at the two of you. A huge smile spread across his face. “It’s not a party without a little drama, am I right?” He glanced around, he clapped his hands. “Come on! Turn it up! Shots on the house!” Cheers soon bounced off the walls competing with the music. The dancing and idle chatter started up once again.

He took a step toward the clown duo. He looked right into those crazy eyes, “Keep an eye on her. She’s in my club.” Turning towards the table, he pointed at Penguin. “Don’t bring any damn fish and you can rent the lounge.”

Penguin squawked. “Thank you.”

Falcone shook his head as he pulled on his cigar again.

Roman turned and went to finally go and find you.

*****

You had heard the cut in the music. Instantly, you knew someone had angered Roman. Probably fucking Harley. You quickly dipped into the ladies room. You had been dancing while he had a meeting. You made a silly face as you eyed your reflection. You ran your fingers through your hair, you still looked good.

*****

Gloved fingers wrapped around your wrist and pulled you against a solid warm frame. You smiled, you knew it could only be one person. “I was just looking for you.” You said brightly.

“I found you first.” Before pulling you close, he glanced at his watch. “I need you.”

“I’m-” He cut your words as he kissed you. It was an angry, hungry kiss. It made your heart race and excitement knot deep inside you.

“Follow me.” He rasped. You nodded and he practically dragged you.

“Of course.”

He tore open the door to one of the exclusive VIP rooms. The two of you nearly crashed into one of his event planners as he continued into the room further.

“Did you not want me to book this room?” Their voice shook.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Roman finally looked at them. He shook his head. “I’m just looking it over.”

The man rocked on his heels. “Oh good.” He gave a weak smile.

“Why are you lingering? Go and get the other room ready!” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand.

“Right! Yes!” The man hurried out.

The door whispered close behind him.

Roman turned to look at you, it made you shiver. He walked over to where you had leaned against the gold half wall. “Damn you look good tonight.”

You don’t know why, but you could not stop yourself but shimmy a little as he came up to stand behind you.

“Yes. You do.” His voice rasped in your ear after he pulled you roughly up against him. You could feel him.

“Thank you, daddy.” Your voice shook with excitement as you grew breathless. You watched as he pulled off a glove and stuffed it into his pocket.

He caressed your thigh. “Tell me baby.” His hand cupped you, pulling you closer to him. A soft sound came from you as you felt even more of him through his slacks. “Who do you belong to? Who does this belong to?” You grew wetter as you felt him squeeze harder.

“You daddy. I belong to you.” You whimpered as his fingers slipped under your panties and he cupped you once again.

“That’s right baby.” His breath was hot on your throat. “So good and wet for me.” He began to rub you. You swallowed hard, as your breath shallowed.

“Oh daddy.” You whimpered. “Please.”

He made a deep sound as you felt his lips on your throat. “Please what, baby?” You shook as you felt him slip two fingers in.

“Daddy.” You whimpered and now was not the time to pout as you felt his fingers withdraw.

He held you close. “Clean daddy’s fingers off. Daddy has to go out there soon.” He offered you his fingers.

“Of course, daddy.” You licked and sucked at his fingers, the act itself made you wetter. You loved when he reminded you who owned you.

“You are such a good baby.” He took his hand back and turned you to face him. You watched as he slipped his glove on. “I need you.”

“What do you want me to do?” Excitement curled in your stomach over what he could want.

His mouth twitched upward. “Go and brace yourself against that column.”

You did as you were told happily, watching as he came over to you while undoing the zipper of his pants. An ache in anticipation grew between your legs.

He came over and smoothed your dress up. “Ready for me?”

“Yes.” You breathed.

You felt as he pushed your panties aside. You gripped the column and a moan poured from your lips as he slid right into you. “That’s my baby. Letting her daddy take her whenever he needs you.”

All you could do was moan as he began moving in and out of you. A rhythm formed between you and him, he held onto your hips.

Suddenly the doors open and the murmur of excited voices filled the room. You glanced back at Roman, fear hit your stomach.

He looked past you and a smirk curled his lips. “Tightening in fear or excitement?” He gently teased.

“We can’t have them hear you, can we?” He reached into his pocket and took out his handkerchief. “Put it into your mouth.” You couldn’t believe this but you grew wetter as he spoke.

He thrusted harder and faster into you. You bit down and moaned around his handkerchief. You shook hard. “You better cum.” He hissed. “Or you will have to wait.” Nodding, you shook at his words.

You could feel him tremble, as he moved deeper. Shaking, you finally let yourself cum. His fingers dug in hard, making you wince as he held you tightly against him. You felt as he came hard in you.

Moments later you were handing him his handkerchief. He smiled at you as he tucked it back into his suit jacket. You smoothed your dress.

“I plan expanding this back area and maybe even a place for a DJ.” He said.

Your brow furrowed but then you realized. “Oh, that could be very nice.” You said sweetly and took his arm.

“Ooo the great Roman Sionis has made an appearance at my party.” A very happy but very drunk looking guy appeared as you two were almost out of the room.

“Just making sure things were tip top.” He smiled broadly.

“Well thank you sir, thank you.”

“No trouble. Right baby?” He turned and smirked at you.

“Not at all. Have a good party.”

*****

Once down another hallway and around a corner. He happily pressed you to the wall. “We almost got caught.” You looked so sweetly up at him. Your cheeks still flushed and your eyes bright.

“But we didn’t.”

He chuckled.

You reached up and gently caressed his cheek. He kissed you then, he was feeling good. Now he could face the rest of the night.

“Come join me for my last two meetings?”

You smiled. “I’d love to.”

With his arm tightly around you, together you weaved through the people. You felt his hand tighten as Two-Face was there flipping his coin up and down in the air.

Zsasz came over one side. The two of you stopped. He looked you up and down.

“Talk Zsasz, Y/N can hear whatever you have to tell me.”

A flush of happiness filled you at his words.

“Two-Face is not in a good mood.”

Roman rose an eyebrow. “Is he ever?”

You giggled into your hand.

They both looked at you. You grimaced. “He was grumpy even when I designed something for him.”

Roman smiled. “See Zsasz, he was even grumpy for Y/N.”

He scratched the back of his head. “All right.”

******

“He hired you?” Roman said as Zsasz walked ahead.

You nodded. “A two tone sofa.”

“Interesting.”

“It was. It took forever for both sides to agree.”

Roman chuckled then. “I bet.”

*****

“Y/N?!” He snatched his coin mid air instead of letting it fall into his palm.

“Hi Harvey.” You said sweetly. You

“I… We…” For once, you mused, both sides were speechless.

You glanced at Roman. “I’m Roman’s girl.”

His mouth twisted before smiling. “Great.”

“Two-Face, you and I were supposed to meet later.” Roman, looked kind of annoyed. “Where is Edward?”

“Batman.”

“Oh.” Roman muttered something you could not make out. “I wanted Y/N at my side tonight.”

He shrugged. “That’s fine. She knows where my hideout is.”

Roman raised his eyebrows at you. “Well, Harvey let’s be honest.” You put a hand on your hip.

He rolled his eyes, but still smiled. “All right, I gently had you blindfolded and brought over.”

“Exactly. But if you want me to flutter off I can.”

“No, it’s ok.” He flipped his coin and then his face grew dark. His eyes narrowed at Roman.

You held your breath.

“Roman, you better treat her right. She’s not one of us.”

You could feel Roman’s body stiffen under your arm that was wrapped around him. “She’s my girl. Of course I do.” You were touched, you had not realized they could be a softie. Harvey had always been very curt and clipped when talking or negotiating with you.

“Good.” He snarled before his face relaxed.

******

Happily you sipped at your drink while the two of them discussed business. All of it was beyond you, as they talked numbers and street names.

Your heartbeat still had not recovered from having his handkerchief in your mouth when he took you in one of the VIP lounges. As you grabbed your glass to have a sip, you felt him place a gloved hand on your thigh. He glanced at you and smiled as there was a pause in the conversation between them. You placed your hand over his. Sipping your drink, a giddiness came over you as you mused about being his girl these past months; it had been some of the most exciting in your life.

@darling-i-read-it @spn-obsessed-dean @vintagemichelle91 @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @ewanfuckingmcgregor @zodiyack @angel98624 @frenchgirlinlondon @emyliabernstein @thepeachreads @nebulastarr @itsknife2meetu @omghappilyuniquebouquetlove @poe-kadot26 @babydoll97-blog1 @hazel-nuss @vcat55 @feelthemadnessinside @johallzy @foreverhockeytrash @frostypenguinoz @starwarsslytherin @professionalclown @chogisss @shantellorraine @xxinvisiblexx @blondekel77 @saphic-stories @drarrylov3r @i-cant-hear-you16 @deadlymistress24 @yesqueenofthelight @generallj @thebeckyjolene @captainjacklynmarie @villainmade

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prettyyoungandbored · 3 years

Text

Becoming Mrs. Wayne [The Dark Knight] Seven

Pairing: Christian Bale!Bruce Wayne x OC

Summary: Demetria Gallagher knew her cozy life would change the second she became engaged to Bruce Wayne. But what she doesn’t know is she’s getting more than what she agreed to. (I am trash at summaries.)

Warning: This chapter contains description of a heavy panic attack. Please read at your own risk.

Taglist: dragonballluver, disgraceful-marvel-trash, barikawho (Let me know if you want to be tagged in this!)

Author’s Note: A chunk of dialogue in this chapter comes from the movie and has been expanded on to fit the storyline.

“And when exactly is your mother planning to visit us?” Monsignor O’Malley inquired as he followed Demetria.

Demetria snapped a photo of the hallway before looking over her shoulder. “Most likely next month. Once I send her the photos , she’ll work on drafts and whenever she comes, we can all sit down and discuss how to go about the process.” She snapped her fingers. “You know what, I have her business card with me because she sometimes does work in Gotham City.”

She pulled out her wallet from her purse and handed Monsignor O’Malley the thing off white card. “She’ll be happy to answer any of your questions and or concerns.”

He smiled as he took the card. “This is awfully generous of you, Ms. Gallagher. We can’t tell you how grateful we are.”

“It’s the least I can do,” she waved her hand. “Both Bruce and I want to make sure you, the sisters, and the boys are taken care of with whatever you need.” She paused. “How are the boys doing?”

“They’re wonderful.”

“Oh good! I was actually wondering if I could go say ‘hi’ or-.”

“Unfortunately the boys are on a field trip with the sisters.”

Demetria nodded understandingly, trying to hide her disappointment. “Absolutely.” Then an idea hit her. “Do the nuns teach the boys?”

“Some do. We’ve been thinking about incorporating more schooling into the boys schedules, but we’re a little short staffed and not all the nuns feel comfortable teaching certain subjects.”

“I’d love to step in,” Demetria offered.

Monsignor O’Malley raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What is it you would teach?”

“I’m excellent at English. All levels. I was a TA my senior year of high school. I even minored in it in college.”

Monsignor O’Malley nodded his head, impressed. “Well, if it doesn’t interfere with your schedule-.”

“I don’t have one,” she laughed.

He chuckled. “Then I suppose it’s something we can try out. Are you free next week?”

Her eyes lit up. “Absolutely!’ I would love that!”

Before she could say more, the sound of her phone ringing cut her off. She gave Monsignor O’Malley an apologetic smile as she dug into her bag. “Excuse me one second.”

She glanced down to see it was a reminder that she had to start getting ready for the fundraiser.

“Please excuse me, but I’ve got to head out,” Demetria said. “Remember, if you have any questions, you have my number as well as my mom’s.”

“Of course. I also look forward to discussing you working here.”

“I do as well.”

The two shook hands and Demetria headed out of the orphanage.

She had taken Bruce’s Cadillac XLR, seeing as it was the only semi-low-key-looking car he owned and the only one she didn’t get anxious driving. She wished he had owned something a little less glamorous for trips like this, hating how it made her look, but it was what it was.

As she she opened the driver’s side door, she noticed a photographer snapping her from the distance. The two stared at each for a moment, acknowledging just what was going on. She exhaled softly, mentally reminding herself to keep it together.

Since her essay was published, the media outlets had backed off a bit. The Gotham Times were still insistent of doing a piece on her and published one on her, but it turned out to be a dud as no one close to her would speak to them with the exception of her former News Director and the Head Booker, her other boss. It also helped that a local mob boss was mysteriously killed and the news decided to fixate on that.

She gave him a quick, tired smile before she slid inside and closed the door, driving off.

===================================================

Back at the Wayne Penthouse, Bruce adjusted the cuffs of his pristine white dress shirt as he made his way down the stairs.

Alfred wrapped up his conversation with the party planners and turned his attention to Bruce.

“I think your fundraiser will be a great success,” Alfred remarked.

“Why do you think I want to hold a party for Harvey Dent?” Bruce questioned, almost annoyed at the thought of it.

“I assumed it was your usual reason for socializing beyond myself and the scum of Gotham’s underbelly to try to impress Miss Gallagher.”

“Very droll, very wrong,” Bruce responded, glancing up for a brief moment.

Alfred looked over his shoulder for a moment, noticing the party planners were not in the room. “Have you considered telling Miss Gallagher what it is you’re doing at night?” Alfred inquired in a voice low enough for Bruce to hear him.

Bruce glanced up. It wasn’t the first time this conversation came up between the two. “Soon.”

“Before or after you say ‘I do’?”

“When the time is right.”

“Perhaps she should truly know what she’s getting herself into.”

Bruce stopped in his tracks. “What are you implying, Alfred?”

“Miss Gallagher has given you every ounce of herself.”

“Who says I-.”

Bruce’s attention was caught by the low sound of the television. He looked over to find GCN airing what appeared to be a figure of Batman, hanging with a rope around it’s neck on a building. The lower third read “BATMAN DEAD?”

Demetria walked down the stairs and into the living room, tightening the belt on her cozy white bathrobe when she saw Bruce and Alfred staring at the tv. Curious, her eyes darted to the tv when she saw the lower third.

Her blood ran cold with disbelief and shock, heart dropping into her stomach.

The camera cut back to GCN anchor, Mike Engel.

“Be aware, the image is disturbing,” he warned.

The camera then cut to a man dressed in a cheap Batman getup, his plump cheeks spilling out of the cowl. He was sat on the floor of what looked like the back kitchen area of a butcher shop with a silver cart and a large pieces of animal meat hanging behind the victim. He had his hands tied behind them, his face lowered to the game.

“Tell them your name,” the camera man said in a menacing, sing-song voice.

“Brian Douglas,” the fake Batman answered weakly.

“Are you the real Batman?” There was a childish, teasing tone in the voice behind the camera to a point where it was menacing. It was almost as if whoever it was took immense pleasure in this man’s torture.

“No.” Brian was barely hanging on.

“No?” the voice repeated back, almost in a whine to mimic Brian’s pain.

“No.”

“No?” The voice giggled. An arm reached over and pulled the cowl off Brian. “Then why do you dress up like him?” The camera pulled back, the arm dangling the cowl in front of Brian. The voice laughed a stomach curdling “Woo-hoo-hoo-hoo!”

“Because he’s a symbol...that we don't have to be afraid of scum like you,” Brian retorted with a slight bit of courage in his weak tone.

“Yeah. You do, Brian.” The hand grabbed the side of Brian’s face, the camera coming in close. “You really do.”

The hand pulled the top of Brian’s head as the man whimpered. The hand turned back and stroked Brian’s cheek. “Oh, shh shh shh.”

Demetria shook her head, her stomach growing weak. Bruce’s eyes fixated on the TV, his expression stone cold with eyes colored in disbelief.

“So,” the voice continued on, “you think the Batman's helped Gotham? Hmm?”

Brian didn’t respond.

“LOOK AT ME!”

The roaring voice caused Demetria to jump back, her hand slapping on her mouth.

The camera swung around to reveal the person behind the voice, the sight causing Demetria to yelp, “Jesus Christ!”

The red smeared smile was complimented by his chalk-white foundation and accentuated the long scars on the sides of his face. Two lazily painted black eyeshadow covered his eyes and he revealed his dark yellow teeth.

“You see, this is how crazy Batman's made Gotham. You want order in Gotham, Batman must take off his mask, and turn himself in.”

It was something behind the clown that Demetria recognized. A memory popped up in her mind, her jaw dropping at the realization.

“Oh, and everyday he doesn’t, people will die. Starting tonight. I’m a man of my word.”

As the camera switched around, the man let out a menacing cackle as Brian screamed in the background. Demetria, overcome with her realization and the man’s grim promise, hurried up the stairs, Bruce and Alfred watching her. Bruce turned off the television and glanced at Alfred who shot him a look. He gave the old man a nod, indicating the message was received.

In their bedroom, Demetria grabbed a notebook from her nightstand as well as a pen. She began writing hurriedly, her cursive handwriting slightly smudged from the pen. Upon finishing, she ripped the page from her notebook and folded it. She reached back into the drawer, grabbing an empty envelope and shoving the folded paper in there. She licked the envelope, sealing tightly with her fingers and placed it back into the drawer.

Just as she went to close the drawer, she heard the door unlock and grabbed her anti-anxiety meds.

Bruce entered the room.

“Everything ok?” he asked, gentle concern laced in his tone.

She waved her hand. “Yeah, yeah. Just that video was, uh, pretty overwhelming to watch. I’ll be fine in a few minutes.”

He eyed the pilll bottle in her hand. “You know you should probably put that in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.”

She chuckled. “You’re right. I’m just used to putting them in nightstand drawer. But considering we’re having a bunch of random people over, I guess you’re right.” She paused, a smirk playing on her lips. “Should I leave some viagra in a little bowl for our older guests trying to impress their much younger dates?”

He sat beside her on the bed, smirking at her. “I don’t have any because I don’t need it.”

She hummed, patting his leg. “I wouldn’t say that.”

He pulled her close, his breath hitting her lips. “Not funny.”

“Oh, but it is. It really is.”

She gave him a chaste kiss, nuzzling her nose against his. “You think maybe we should cancel this party? I mean, I don’t think it’s safe.”

“We’re going to be fine,” Bruce reassured.

She sighed, realizing there was no point in changing his mind. “Then I guess I better continue getting ready.”

He chuckled. “Well, don’t get too excited, sweetheart.”

“It’s just...” she stepped back, “I don’t know.” Her fingers toyed the robed belt. “I figured you’d cancel the party and we could spend the night in here...” She continued to move back toward the bathroom area, throwing off the robe to reveal her naked body to him. “And I’d let you do whatever you want to me. But since you won’t cancel it...” She shrugged. “Oh well.”

Bruce could feel his pants grow a little tight and he was ready to have her pay the price. His hungry eyes stayed on her, like a lion ready to pounce on it’s prey. “You get back here. Right. Now.”

She shook her head. “I have to get ready.” She pointed to the tent in his pants. “I suggest you take care of that situation before you leave this room.”

She grabbed the robe from the floor and closed the door behind her, locking it so Bruce wouldn’t try anything.

She exhaled and ran a hand through her damp hair. She wasn’t sure how long this party would last, but she had to make sure Batman got her letter.

==================================================

Bruce waited outside near the helicopter landing pad, his hands in his pockets. He watched as the navy blue sky took over the sunset, but once he turned his head, his breath was taken away by an even more beautiful sight.

Demetria walked out on to the helicopter landing pad, her black hair in an updo with long, curled strands of hair framing her face. Her navy blue gown was strapless with a subtle reverse sweetheart neckline, and hugged her small curves just right before flowing out on to the floor. Her makeup stayed on the subtle side with her eyeliner and mascara accentuating her warm, emerald green eyes and her Goldilocks lips were the perfect shade of pink.

“Is it too much?” she asked, stopping in her tracks. She put a hand on her stomach, feeling the knot inside tightening. Her face fell into a panic. “Oh shit, it is, isn’t it?”

He shook his head, his thumb grazing her cheek as he smiled at her adoringly. “You look incredible, sweetheart.”

Color filled her cheeks as her pink lips curved into a bashful smile. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Wayne.”

His lips gently crashed on to hers as he cradled the side of her face. For a moment, as they relished in their kiss, the world was still and time froze. Neither of them could remember the last time they shared such a moment, but they truly savored it while they still could.

Bruce pulled back, resting his forehead against hers, his lips hovering over hers. “For the record, you still owe me from before.”

She hummed against his lips. “I’ll take it into consideration.”

He smirked at her. “You’re lucky I like you. C’mon, let’s go.”

He took her hand in his, leading her onto the helicopter. The pilot helped her up first, Bruce following right after. As the two sat in the back, Demetria turned to him. “What’s the point of doing this again?”

He took her hand once again. “Grand entrances are fun. Plus, wait til’ you see the view from above.”

He felt her latch on to his arm as the sound of the choppers roared in. Soon enough, the helicopter began rising, the weight of the ground lifting. As it took off into Gotham City, Demetria watched the twinkling city below her.

As childish as it seemed, Demetria felt like Jasmine did on that magic carpet with Aladdin. Seeing Gotham from a bird’s eye view, the city looked beautiful and peaceful.

Bruce relished in watching his fiancé’s amazement, hoping he could make her feel this way for the rest of their lives.

She looked over at him. “You were right. This is incredible.”

She scooted closer to him, leaning back on his shoulder as she continued to look out the window. Bruce pressed a kiss to her temple, reaching his hand over to hers on her lap, clasping them.

Both stayed in the moment, wishing they could stay like this forever.

But once the helicopter scoured every inch part of Gotham, it was time to descend back onto the landing pad.

Bruce helped Demetria off the helicopter. Her eyes shifted to the once empty ballroom which was now filled with a large crowd inside staring at her. Her chest grew heavy, palms sweating.

“They’re staring at us,” she told Bruce.

He took her hand. “They see how you beautiful you look”. He gave it squeeze. “Remember, I’ve got you.”

She nodded and exhaled softly as the two made their way inside.

She followed him as the door opened to the gala room. All eyes stayed on them. She flashed a closed mouth smile at partygoers until her eyes met Harvey’s. It wasn’t until his familiar, warm smile that hers became more genuine and honest.

“Sorry we’re late,” Bruce announced. “Glad you started without us!” He let go of Demetria’s hand, clapping his together. “Where's Rachel?!”

Demetria eye’s turned to Rachel, who cringed slightly.

Bruce motioned to her. “Rachel Dawes- my oldest friend. When she told me she was dating Harvey Dent, I had one thing to say... ‘the guy from those god-awful campaign commercials? 'I Believe in Harvey Dent?' Nice slogan, Harvey.”

As the crowd chuckled, Demetria’s smile faltered even more. She was thrown off by the Bruce that was speaking. It was like the second his hand left hers, he’d become another man. He’d become like everyone else in the crowd - pompous and slightly arrogance.

He’s putting on a show for them, she thought to herself. This is not the real him.

“Certainly caught Rachel's attention,” Bruce went on. “But then I started paying attention to Harvey, and all he's been doing as our new D.A., and you know what? I believe in Harvey Dent. On his watch, Gotham can feel a little safer. A little more optimistic. But what he’s done for Gotham isn’t just the only good thing Harvey Dent has done.”

He then shifted his tone and his gaze, now looking at Demetria who’s heart dropped to her stomach.

“Harvey convinced his good friend from college, Demetria Gallagher, to move to Gotham,” Bruce continued, smiling at her. “It’s because of Harvey and Rachel that I was introduced to the love of my life.”

The crowd let out a collective “aw” as Demetria gave him a small smile.

“I spent years thinking I’d never find the ‘one’.” He turned back to the crowd. “I figured if I’m never gonna find her, why not have some fun? And I did.”

The crowd laughed. Demetria rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

“Then I ran into Rachel having a lunch with this beautiful woman and I couldn’t help myself. I asked her three times to have dinner with me.” Bruce shifted his attention to Demetria, taking her hand in his. “While I will never know who or what convinced you to say ‘yes’, all I know is that from the moment I left that dinner, I knew this witty, kind, beautiful woman was who I was going to spend the rest of my life with. Demetria, to say you are my heart and my soul is simply not enough. There will never be enough words or adjectives or uses of symbolism to describe how much you mean to me and how happy you make me. I love you more than anything.”

The crowd, once again, “awed” as he pecked Demetria’s cheek. He then grabbed two glasses of champagne off the server’s tray, handing one to Demetria. He then turned back to the crowd, raising his glass. “To-.”

“I just want to say something really quickly,” Demetria spoke up, putting a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “If that’s, ok?”

Bruce smiled, her sudden burst of confidence bringing him pride. “By all means.”

She turned to the crowd. “You all know Harvey as your DA, but I know him as my confidant, my greatest friend, and above all, my family. He’s also my get out of jail free card, but that’s neither here nor there.”

Everyone laughed as Harvey shook his head. Demetria turned to her best friend, her smile fading a bit.

“Harvey, you’re selflessness and dedication to making Gotham City a safer one for its citizens is not just admirable, but also inspirational. You fight for the voiceless, the scared, and for those who want to make their home a better place. You’re one of the reasons Gotham has a brighter future.”

“So get out your checkbooks and let's make sure that he stays right where all of Gotham wants him,” Bruce toasted. “All except Gotham's criminals, of course. To the face of Gotham's bright future- Harvey Dent.”

Everyone toasted and took a sip of their champagne.

As the crowd went back to their party, Bruce turned to Demetria.

“I’m going to go outside for a bit,” he told her, pecking her cheek. “Make yourself comfortable.”

She opened her mouth to protest but it was too late - he’d wandered off. She sighed, wondering how he could he just leave her to fend for herself at their first gala together. She took a sip of her champagne, giving up and giving in to the situation at hand.

“You’re a very lucky woman,” an elderly woman marveled. “And quite adorable. I bet Martha would’ve loved you.”

“Thank you, that’s so kind,” Demetria remarked. “Were you a friend of hers?”

“We were both on the chair for many charities. Such a wonderful woman. If you’re interested, I would love to bring you aboard some of them and get you acquainted.”

“I would love that! I’m actually working with the boy’s home and helping them with renovations and whatnot.”

“How wonderful!”

“I’ve also expressed interest in helping them with schooling and whatnot.”

The gleam in the woman’s eyes softened. “Oh...really, now?”

“Yeah, I would love to do some teaching.”

“She’s going to do a fantastic job,” Harvey remarked, chiming in. He threw his hand around Demetria’s shoulders. “Those kids are going to be well looked after thanks to her.”

“I don’t doubt that,” the woman agreed before walking off.

Demetria turned to Harvey. “I think she realized I wasn’t one of them.”

“Who cares?” he shrugged. “But forgetting that, you’re seriously going to become a teacher?”

“I brought it up to Monsignor O’Malley about the possibility of teaching English. Besides, it would give me something to do that I actually like. You know, talking to them about novels and what it means to express yourself in your writing.”

“That’s fantastic!” Harvey remarked. “You would be perfect for that.”

“I hope so. How are you handling this...whatever it is?”

He sighed. “I’m...just here. How about you?”

“I wanna go into my bedroom and go under the covers and wait til’ everyone leaves.”

“Well for what it’s worth, you look beautiful tonight.”

“I’m working with what I’ve got.”

“Bruce is very lucky.”

“Yeah, he should be. But he decided to give up on the party.”

Harvey furrowed his eyebrows as Demetria motioned her head to the outside. He then turned his head, the two watching Bruce and Rachel engage in what appeared to be an intense conversation.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Demetria wondered aloud.

He quickly glanced over and took a look sip of his champagne. “Probably nothing.”

Her lips curved into a smirk as she eyed Harvey. “Don’t be jealous.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re getting defensive.”

“And you’re annoying me.”

“After that heartfelt speech I gave, that’s the thanks I get?”

“It was alright.”

She punched him in the shoulder, causing him to cringe. “Asshole. I gave a beautiful speech.”

He rubbed his shoulder. “Well, hopefully it will be just a nice ad one you’ll give at my wedding.”

Her eyes widened. “Shut the fuck up. You proposed to Rachel?”

“Not yet. I’m planning to.”

Her mouth hung open as she leaned in close. “Holy shit, dude! When?!”

“Well first there are some things I gotta-.”

“So you two are friends, yes?” another female guest inquired, cutting him off. Her arm was linked with a man who looked at least 20 years older than she did.

Harvey and Demetria turned to her. “We most certainly are,” Demetria agreed, pinching his cheek.

“So how long ago did you two date?” one man remarked, chuckling.

Harvey and Demetria’s eyes went wide.

“We never have,” Harvey answered.

The man elbowed Harvey, laughing. “Aw, c’mon son. It’s alright.”

“He’s basically my brother,” Demetria said.

The man shook his head as he and his concerned date turned away. Demetria and Harvey turned to each other.

“Oh my god these people suck,” she giggled to Harvey. “At least they’ll fund you.”

“Yeah, I could give a shit,” he retorted.

“Mind if I steal him for a bit?” Rachel asked, chiming in.

“By all means,” Demetria motioned.

Harvey and Rachel went off when Demetria noticed Bruce still standing outside. She made her way out.

“Doing ok there?”

Bruce turned to her, smiling. “So far, so good.”

“I love you but you’re not the best liar,” she chuckled, her fingers gently combing his hair. “Babe, if you want to leave, say the word and we’ll sneak out. We can go anywhere.”

“Tempting,” he remarked, smirking. “Where do you propose we go?”

She cocked her head back, shoulders shrugging. “Anywhere. We could literally get in a car and go anywhere we want.” She paused. “Anywhere you want.”

Bruce’s body turned to face her, giving her his full undivided attention. She set her glass down on the railing.

“While I think it’s sweet that you threw this for Harvey, I don’t want to be alone in a room with people I don’t know let alone give a shit about. I would rather be with you in the middle of nowhere where we don’t have to pretend we’re people that we’re not.”

His smile faltered, his eyes going to the ground. Demeteria shoulders tightened, fear creeping into her now uneasy stomach.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“There’s something I have to tell you.”

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “What did I do?”

He shook his head. “No, you did nothing wrong. It’s...” He sighed. “I never want to keep anything from you.”

“What have you been keeping from me?” she questioned, her voice low

He scanned the area as well as the inside of the ballroom. Realizing he wasn’t the safest, let alone most secure place, he leaned closer toward her. “I’ll go in the bedroom and grab a couple things. Go tell Alfred we’re heading out. We’ll meet at the elevator, alright?”

“Bruce-.”

He kissed her cheek and made his way inside. Bruce pushed through the crowd, fielding attempts of conversation from partygoers. She threw her hands up in defeat as an annoyed exhale left her mouth.

“At least we’re leaving,” she muttered under her breath.

========================================================

In their bedroom, Bruce grabbed a set of keys for one of the cars from his safe in their closet. Realizing it was probably best to bring her anxiety med, he went into the medicine cabinet only to find it wasn’t there.

He then remembered her saying she always kept it in the drawer in her nightside table.

Figuring she put it back, he went over to it and opened the drawer and there it was. When he pulled it out, he noticed an envelope underneath with ‘For Batman’ written on it.

He quickly glanced back at the door to make sure the door was closed. He then set down the bag and opened the envelope to find a handwritten letter.

My Night Friend ,

There’s something you need to know about that viral video of the copycat.

I recognize the kitchen in the video. It’s the Fatted Calf on East 28th. A guy I briefly saw in college worked there and I hung out with him in the kitchen while he was closing up the shop.

What people don’t know is that there’s a secret room. The guy told me the owner had it made to be used as a bomb shelter back in the day. It’s located right beside the freezer. If you can get into the boss’ office, there’s a special key inside a safe that can open the door. The Joker may be taking shelter in there.

Take what you will with this information. I hope it serves you well.

Sincerely,

Your Rooftop Friend

Bruce’s couldn’t believe what he was reading. His fiancé, the love of his life, was helping the Batman. The severity of the situation as well as time the huge piece of information made him realize he needed to get both of them out of the penthouse and into the Batcave. He could explain everything to her there.

Shoving the letter into the bag, he zipped it up and made his way to the door when something on the security camera screen made him stop.

It was The Joker followed by some henchmen.

He threw the bag in the closet hurriedly, closing the door, and made his way to the party. Seeing Harvey Dent close by talking to Rachel, he figured he’d had enough time to get Harvey to safety and then grab Demetria.

He came up behind Harvey, putting Harvey in a headlock as Rachel’s eyes widened in fear.

“What the hell are you doing?!” she exclaimed.

“They’re coming for him,” Bruce said, using his Batman voice. “Go grab her and get yourselves to safety.”

========================================================

Demetria spotted Alfred near the wall area. She made her way over, catching the old man’s attention.

“There you Miss Gallagher,” he greeted. “Are you having fun?”

“I feel like a zoo animal. I’ve had more people stare at me than actually talk to me. Anyway, Bruce and I are heading out.”

Alfred chuckled. “You and Master Wayne are a truly perfect fit.”

She eyed the room before leaning closer toward Alfred. “Alfred, he said he had something he’d been meaning to tell me. Any idea what it could be?”

Just then, the sound of a single gunshot silence the room. Everyone turned, including Demetria and Alfred, to see The Joker, the man from the video, enter the ballroom with his posse of men behind him wearing clown masks.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen,” he greeted in a sing-song voice.

His posse pointed guns at the crowd, a silent order to step back. The crowd formed a circle around The Joker.

Alfred, who was a few rows behind the crowd, stood in front of Demetria.

“Stay behind me,” he whispered to her.

She watched from behind his shoulder.

The sound of tray hitting the ground, broke the silence. The Joker looked back for a moment before turning back to the crowd.

“We are...tonight’s entertainment.” He grabbed a piece of shrimp from a table, stuffing it into his mouth. He looked around. “Only one question - where is Harvey Dent?”

He eyed around, pointing the gun at a group of women before ripping one of their glasses of champagne from their hands and taking a swig of it. He set back on the table and began questioning those he passed, occasionally grabbing at them.

“You know where Harvey is? Do you know who he is?”

He squeezed one guy’s cheek. “Do you know where Harvey is? I need to talk to him about something. Something little.”

He went up to an old white man. “You know I’ll settle for his loved ones.”

Meanwhile, Demetria felt someone grab her hand. She turned to find Rachel.

“We need to get you out of here,” Rachel whispered.

Demetria went to follow Rachel when she felt someone grab her hand.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going, sweetcheeks?” one of the masked men retorted.

He grabbed Demetria, despite her attempts to break free. Her heart rate quickened, stomach growing weak as the man pushed her in front of the crowd.

“Hey boss!” He called out. “It’s her!”

The Joker turned to her, his fixation on her making her blood run cold. She stood frozen and helpless. He got into her face. “So this is the future Mrs. Wayne. You’re also Harvey Dent’s best friend.”

He grabbed Demetria’s face, cradling it forcefully.

“Harvey is your best friend, isn’t he? Your buddy ol pal?” He let out a vicious cackle. “Possibly an old lover? An unrequited love? Either way, you’re somewhat of an asset to him.”

She moved her eyes, looking around as the crowd watched her in fear.

“C'mere, look at me.”

She whimpered, closing her eyes.

He tightened his grip on her hair “LOOK AT ME!”

She yelped, opening her eyes as tears filled to the brim.

“Please,” she begged, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh shh, shh, shh,” he hushed her teasingly. “Well you look upset.” He asked, pointing to scars on his mouth with his knife. “Is it these? Is it the scars? You wanna know how I got ‘em?”

She didn’t have time to answer, at least he didn’t bother to give her a chance to. She went to move her head when he grabbed her again. “Hey, look at me.”

She stopped moving, her eyes on him. “So, I had a wife, who was beautiful...like you, who tells me I worry too much, who tells me I oughta smile more, who gambles and gets in deep with the sharks.”

She squirmed when The Joker pulled her back. “One day they carve her face. And we got no money for surgeries. She can't take it. I just want to see her smile again. Hmm? I just wanted to let her know that I don't care about the scars. So, I stick a razor in my mouth and do this to myself. ”

She squeaked, frightened as he put the knife to his scars.

“And you know what? She can't stand the sight of me! She leaves! Now I see the funny side. Now, I'm always smiling!”

He pulled her back, took the knife, and slashed her forearm, the sharp stinging, sensation causing her to let out a blood curdling scream. She collapsed onto the ground, blood spilling down her arm and onto the marble floor.

Demetria couldn’t move, her body frozen, mind unable to process what had just happened. She opened her mouth to speak, her chest stinging in pain and her head growing lightheaded as the Joker stepped on her bleeding arm.

“Please help me,” she begged in between her hyperventilating. “Please...I’m...I can’t...help!”

“Why doesn’t Harvey Dent come save his best friend?!” The Joker called out.

“Let her go!”

Rachel made her way. The Joker stomped on Demetria’s arm one last time.

Alfred rushed to her side. “Deep breaths, Miss,” he whispered. “Deep breaths.”

“Alfred...I’m gonna....don’t let me...”

“You’re going to be alright.”

“Step back!” one of the masked henchman ordered, pointing a gun at Alfred.

Alfred held up his hands stepping back from Demetria. The henchman walked away as Demetria continued to hyperventilate.

She was going to die in front of everyone. Her vision became blurry, her breath uncontrollable. She watched in what she thought would be her final moments Batman attack The Joker.

In and out of blackness, she heard glass shatter followed by footsteps.

Tears strolled down her face as she struggled to breathe, trying to hold on to whatever breath she had left, her body shivering. Alfred rushed to her once again.

“Don’t just stand there!” he cried out. “Someone call a bloody ambulance!”

He gave Demetria his hand, which she held onto tightly.

“Stay with me,” he told her. “Stay with me.”

But she wasn’t sure how long she could last. Between the chest pains and the pains from her wound and the light-headedness, she was barely holding on.

How badly she wanted to see Bruce....and how could he leave her like this?

__________________________________________________________________

Dress:

Hair/Makeup:

#bruce wayne x oc #bruce wayne imagine #batman #batman imagine #batman fanfic #the dark knight #the dark knight fanfiction #the joker #christian bale #christian bale x reader #bruce wayne fanfiction #bale!batman

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batfamscreaming · 3 years

Text

superbat highschool au - Halloween

[warning for: non consensual kissing, implied abusive living situations]

As Halloween grew closer, Tommy (bundled up in the same scarf and loafers as Bruce) asked if anyone had plans for the evening.

Clark hadn’t celebrated Halloween in a couple of years now. Not really. Maybe a Halloween party here or there but that was it. Houses were too far spaced out for trick-or-treat back home.

“Uh, I mean I think Bruce ‘n I were going to head to the library again, but--” Clark began, looking to the other boy for confirmation.

Bruce began to nod, but--

“No, Bruce and I are gonna go out on the town,” Tommy said, swinging his arm around Bruce’s shoulders and tugging him close.

“...Tommy, curfew exists,” Bruce said, huffing a little.

“Not if we break it, it doesn't,” he said, grinning.

“Uh, okay. Is that an invitation then?” Clark smirked.

Breaking curfew once wouldn’t get him expelled.

“It can be,” Tommy said. “Harv?”

Harvey gave him a look that called him an idiot.

“Gotham on Halloween?” he said. “You're not exactly strolling around the hill houses for candy.”

“Is it bad?” Clark asked. “I’ve actually never been off school grounds.”

He’d never seen the city.

“Halloween’s crazy for crime everywhere,” future lawyer Harvey Dent said flatly. “It's thematic.”

And if Gotham didn't follow a trend towards the thematic… whew.

Bruce just seemed to be taking a moment to be stunned that Clark hadn't been anywhere outside the school.

“Okay,” he said, turning to Tommy. “What’s the plan?”

“I was thinkin’ ice cream and bowling,” Tommy said, grinning. “You wanna plan our escape?”

(Bruce had been thinking too much about the library lately. It was time to steer him towards literally any other thinking direction)

And Bruce nodded, accepting that assignment.

“Sounds fun.” Clark said, shrugging on his jacket.

“So how do you usually sneak out?”

“Badly,” Harvey said, still crossing his arms and clearly not pleased.

“Dodge the guards. Hop the gate,” Bruce said. “Not hard. Easier with a rope. Getting in again’s worse.”

“Cause they actually expect it,” Tommy explained before there were any questions.

“But at least we’re only on the second floor this year. If we weigh down the curtains and leave the window open it shouldn't be noticeable.”

“If it helps any I can jump pretty high,” Clark said. “So you shouldn’t have to worry much about me keeping up.”

Totally within normal human standards. Yes.

Bruce snorted. Laughed almost.

“The gate’s ten feet at lowest,” he said. “Plus spikes.”

Clark was so stuck between keeping everything under cover and bragging. He could fly since he was 10. Ten feet was nothing. Ten feet was laughable.

He opened his mouth, swallowed, and sighed.

Dammit.

Keep it under wraps.

“Right.”

The boys just huddled together again, nodding and still discussing. “So, do we need rope? Or are we gonna be able to grip the bars?”

“I need the rope,” Harvey said miserably.

“Got it,” Tommy said. “Leave it to me.”

“Please don't steal stuff and get us in more trouble when we get caught.”

“Never,” Tommy promised. “As if Bruce and I would get caught.”

(Bruce laughed then, but it was anxious for different reasons, then.)

“I’ll be able to grip the bars.” Clark said, for what little it was worth. For a moment he even considered offering to carry Harvey over on his back, but he thought maybe that was too much.

Could kids his age carry kids their own size on their backs?

He looked pensive for a moment.

…

No. Probably not.

“Anything I can help with?”

Tommy shook his head just as Bruce did.

“Lay low,” Bruce said. “...have any hats?”

Clark thought about that before turning and digging through his things.

He slapped on an old, beat up John Deere baseball cap.

Bruce made a distressed face.

“...have any other hats?”

“I gotta winter hat but it’s not that cold out.”

…

“What’s wrong with my hat?”

“That Bruce’s gotta wear it,” Tommy said, grinning.

… Clark grinned, took off the hat, and shoved it onto Bruce.

“Nnnooo,” Bruce said, hat shoved onto his head and shoved down even more securely by Tommy.

It tilted his dark hair out of place and looked completely out of place with his ironed white oxford and school blazer.

“It suits ya.” Clark grinned.

It really didn’t.

“You're a shit liar,” Bruce said.

“Quick, get the smallest shirt you have, Kent. He still sticks out too much!”

“Just use some of mi--” Harvey started to say.

But that got hushed as Tommy urged them into a game of Bruce Dressup, and Halloween grew ever closer, until finally the night arrived.

Clark couldn’t do anything about Bruce’s very pressed pants, but he could find a small shirt for him.

‘Small’ being relative.

Bruce would drown in it a little, but at least in the end he didn’t stand out so much in his old ratty John Deere hat.

And when the night arrived he followed their lead.

….Bruce, unwillingly, donned the shirt and cap when it was finally time, looking a bit more like a ruffian with the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbow and the cap on his uncombed hair.

It made him look shorter. His face seemed rounder. Almost puppyish.

He was a very determined looking puppy as they rigged up their window so that the corner of the bunk bed jutted into view of the opening.

Tommy had, indeed, acquired a rope from somewhere, and they tied one end into a loop, tossing it around the shallow jut of the bedpost and getting ready.

Tommy was lookout as Bruce descended first.

Then Harvey. They'd wait for Clark. Tommy last. They flicked the rope until it came loose from the bedpost, gathered it up, and raced to the gate, sneaking around the buildings and in the bushes in the low light.

The gate was closed for the night, and they snuck under the desk guard to reach it.

Again, Bruce took it first, climbing up between the bars using the traction on his shoe to get up.

The rope was thrown over between the spokes at the top. Used to control their descent.

He ushered Clark to mimic him once he'd made it to the other side and decided it was clear. Harvey had to have his foot in the loop and he pulled over to make it.

Tommy went last again, staying behind to make sure Harvey had someone to catch him if he fell.

And they were outside.

It was hard for Clark to do things like these guys.

He… might have flown a little to descend out of the window a little faster, but kept his feet on the wall and his hands gripped to the rope so at least it looked like he was doing it like everyone else.

The gate though.

Ugh.

He tried to mimic Bruce as best he could, but it looked a little too… flawless. He didn’t strain or land on the other side very hard.

But they had made it.

… And outside, in the dark, there was even more light for his eyes to catch than usual.

He was lucky the boys were largely too focused on their own descents to notice.

That streetlights were common enough to make his eyes look somewhat normal for the moment.

Once they were on the street, Tommy and Harvey definitely took the lead, steering them up north of the academy, to a slightly more crowded--and festive--area.

“Is this what you guys do every year?” Clark asked anyone who wanted to answer.

He always kinda wondered what these rich city kids did for fun.

“What? No way,” Tommy said. “I mean. That'd be nice…”

Harvey shook his head, too. His hands were wrapped around his elbows in a self-protective hug. “Normally wouldn't be able to get away with it.”

“Besides. Our old roommate was really bad at stuff,” Tommy added. “Like not getting all of us in trouble.”

“Spent last year in detention,” Bruce mumbled.

(By now, Clark knew that didn't necessarily mean Bruce had done anything to deserve detention.

It could've just been he'd been around while someone did something. Or been the dorm mate of someone who did something.

...Harvey’s caving to come made more sense if he would just be punished anyway, if they were caught.)

“So, what, you just spend Halloween in your dorm studying? That’s… a lot less than I expected out here.” Clark said, not looking as defensive as maybe he should have been in Gotham of all places, hands in his pockets and head up.

Casual.

(Bruce kept his head down and the baseball cap over his eyes.)

“...what did you think we did?” Bruce asked. “Orgies? I'm taking you out for ice cream and bowling, Kent.”

“I dunno… parties? I thought that's what rich kids did. Go to clubs. Drink. That kinda thing.”

“... Not that I'm saying I want to do those things, but…” Clark shrugged.

All the same, all three kids had paused in walking to stare at him.

“...I wouldn't even be able to set foot out of the house if Mom had her way,” Tommy said, staring.

“....” Bruce just had that look on his face.

“Hey. I worked my way in,” Harvey said.

“I did too!” said Tommy, turning on Harvey a little. “I had to barter to get here.”

“...”

Bruce shuffled a little closer to Clark and breathed out, “their dads are the ones who drank all night.”

And that was all he mumbled before trying to step forward and break up the fight again.

The bowling alley would close, late hours or not, if they didn't get a-moving.

“Oh.” He mumbled to Bruce, and started walking too.

“Sorry, I guess the TV makes you think one thing even when it isn't very true. Sounds like I get it more'n you guys.”

Once more they turned, surprised.

“You've fucked?” Tommy said.

He had definitely pegged Clark for a virgin.

Clark nearly tripped over his own feet.

“N-no!! No! God.”

He was beet red.

“Did you mean ‘out’?’” Harvey asked, baffled, at the same time as Tommy said, “oh. Okay. Harv still has company then, at least.”

Bruce could finally see the bowling alley coming up. Extended hours for the weekend.

Ice cream parlor across the street.

Yes.

“Ugh, shut up.” Clark groaned, following them while rubbing his face to try and get some of the red from his cheeks.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tommy said, dropping it as they ducked into the building. It was much warmer inside. “...it's not like we have the money to get into clubs or buy alcohol, though. Seriously.”

“TV,” Harvey shrugged, quietly trying to reassure Clark a little that it was fine.

“What’d ya mean? You at least get an allowance, right?” Clark said.

“Even I get an allowance. Or at least paid a little when I help out on the farm.”

….Harvey shook his head. “...my family doesn't have the money for an allowance, anyway.”

Tommy just scowled. “If I see any of my dad’s money it'll be long after mom’s died.”

…

Meanwhile, Bruce ducked his head, and pulled out a ten dollar bill, handing it to Tommy, who took it and huffed up to the counter to pay, being the one who was clearly not dark-haired Bruce Wayne in a baseball cap and oversized shirt.

“...I get an allowance,” he admitted. “But it's not like I’m going to hike ten miles into the city from the manor to use it.”

“Jeeze…” He mumbled over Tommy talking about his mom needed to die for him to get his dad’s money.

“I guess that makes sense.” He said to Bruce again, watching Tommy pay for them.

“Thanks for treatin’ us though.”

Even if it made sense Bruce would pay for it. Still polite to thank him.

Bruce smiled a little. “Yeah. No problem. It's nice to get out. Thanks for the hat.”

“Shoooes!!” Tommy called once he'd paid, waving them over to change.

A four player game was being set up for them, the first letters of their names being their designations.

And ready to go.

A night away.

Clark smiled back.

He got his change of shoes and then looked around for the heaviest ball they had. It still wouldn’t be enough to offset his throw, but it would help. It was easier not to look too strong when you needed to roll it rather than throw it. It was just a matter of dialing back the momentum.

His first throw though it went way too fast. Nothing that would break everything in its way, but still just too fast.

Shit.

He would try and hide his distressed face and play it off and… dial it back for the one after that.

The desk manager warned him the ball was probably way too heavy, but thankfully, the other three boys seemed to tack up his wild throw to weight and momentum, laughing wildly as it careened impressively fast-- into the gutter.

“Beautiful!” Tommy whistled at him.

“Like you'll do any better,” Harvey said.

(And Tommy did not.)

But after a few rounds, everyone was adjusting a little better to the balls, and…

Bruce sat beside Clark while waiting his turn, and jeered the others when they missed just like they did him.

And… seemed relaxed and happy for once.

Smiling.

“Hah!” Clark hollered as Tommy did just as poorly as him.

As the night went on though he did get used to rolling the ball down the lane and compensating for how little it weighed to him in comparison.

It was a lot of fun.

He cheered and jeered everyone when they did well or poorly, jabbing them with words just the same as they did him. He tended to stick to Bruce more than Harvey or Tommy. They had grown to know each other a lot better over the past month working on their Court of Owls stuff.

It was good.

This was fun.

He was clapping and laughing along with the rest of them, and upon noticing Bruce looked happy too he would give him a little nudge and a smile.

Happy to see him happy.

Bruce had gotten a lot better at being casual with Clark with their search together the last month, but--

It wasn't as if he smiled much during the investigating. It wasn't like he was giddy over crime scenes. Any excitement he had about finding a pattern quickly turned to seriousness as soon as he had to explain what he’d noticed.

And in school, he said little. Let people part in front of him or walk by him without any seeming preference.

But here, finally, it was just fun.

...through some twist of fate, Harvey’s score was highest at the end of the game.

They had no real way they planned to reward the winner. But it was fine if they just mocked Bruce's place in dead last.

He had wonderful aim, after all--if he was aiming for the gutter.

But when the game ended, Bruce trotted over to the shoes, picking up his and Clark’s, and bringing them back over to change quietly before heading across the street for the last half hour the ice cream parlor would be open.

Bruce didn't have to tell Tommy what he wanted--a float--but Tommy would ask the other two before trotting up once more with Bruce’s cash in hand to pay and order at the counter while the four slid into a booth.

And maybe because Tommy was up paying, Bruce found himself sliding in beside Clark to sit across from Tommy, instead of beside him for once.

Clark’s choice of ice cream was pretty much the most boring of all; a vanilla shake.

He sat on the inside by the window, and didn’t think twice about Bruce sliding in beside him.

“How often have you gone bowling before, Harvey?”

Harvey shook his head. A lot. “Almost none? I think in Jr High we went once as a class trip, but I was terrible at it.”

“Harv has two settings,” Bruce said, leaning his chin on his hand and very carefully not putting his elbow on the table. “Professional, and worst luck ever.”

Clark snorted, “Man now I feel worse, I go bowling like… at least once a year when my friends and I are bored back home. It’s one of the few things to do back in Smallville.”

“Yeah?” Bruce said, leaning in a little, interested. “You've mentioned your town a couple times. What's it like?”

“Lives up to the name.” Clark smiled. “Small. Bowling alley, gas station, market. Got one street light in the whole town. The farm is about five miles from the center of town, you gotta have a car or a bike to get anywhere.”

“People always hang out by the train tracks or the ol’ Glott farm that’s cavin’ in on itself.”

“Does it rain any less?” Harvey asked, a little sardonic, but still listening all the same.

It was about then that Tommy came back with their ice cream.

Vanilla shake. Two root beer floats. A sundae.

But when he made it to the table, he paused before setting things down, as if he had to… look around and see where they were all sitting for a second.

“Yeah but we gotta worry about tornados way more.” Clark said, and was already reaching for his shake since he was the only one to get one by the looks of things.

“Thanks Tommy.”

“Y’welcome,” Tommy said, and... passed out the rest.

Sundae for Harvey. Floats for him and Bruce. He sat across from Bruce at the table, and didn't interrupt the conversation. Just started to drink silently through his straw.

“...are tornadoes actually like what they say?” Bruce asked. “I read they can pick up a carton of eggs and just set them down miles away, completely intact.”

“Oh yeah, they’re capable of some crazy stuff. After one I saw someone’s record just… stuck in a tree. Like it was a razor blade. Powerlines bent over like they were made of playdough. Then sometimes it’ll set a full can of soda down on someone’s steps without a dent.”

He took a sip from his milkshake, oblivious to anything amiss with Tommy.

It was a nice way to ease into the later part of the night. A nice wind-down from bowling as they asked questions about Kansas and what it was like to live on a farm. In a small town.

When his float was almost drained, Bruce stood, saying, “bathroom, be right back,” and turned to head to the back of the shop.

“Me too,” said Tommy, following along behind him a moment later, wobbling to get out of the table with his long legs.

(They turned a corner and headed into the boy’s bathroom, and once they were there, door shut against anyone listening, Tommy said, “Bruce?”)

“Okay,” Clark said, and thought nothing of it. He slurped the last of his shake through his straw.

But he did overhear their conversation, whether he intended to or not.

Neither did Harvey, who had gotten content to just sit and listen after a while, and was now just quietly watching the street go by, trying to find room in himself to finish up his sundae.

(“Hm?” Bruce said.

“Are you mad at me?”

“What? No. Why would I be mad at you?”

“You’ve been avoiding me, lately,” said Tommy.)

… Clark turned and looked in the direction of the bathroom.

He didn’t look too hard. Not yet. But he was definitely listening.

As far as he knew Bruce wasn’t mad at Tommy at all.

Nothing had changed.

“Don't lie to me,” Tommy said, voice no louder, but a thousand times more sharp than it'd been a moment before.

There was a stutter in Bruce’s heart.

“We tell each other everything,” he said. “I told you everything. And now all you do is hang out with Clark.”

“...we’re just looking stuff up,” Bruce said, voice low and careful. “It's just hanging out. It's different.”

“Really? Because you barely ask to just hang out with me. You were gonna be with him before I got this plan together, you remember?”

There was a footstep. A set of footsteps. Shuffling around.

Clark narrowed his eyes.

He glanced at Harvey, then leaned his head in his hands to try and hide the line of sight to his eyes as they glowed blue and looked harder.

Into the boy’s bathroom.

He'd find them both shuffled into the two-stall bathroom, neither in stalls. Just Bruce taking a step back towards the back wall, and the tail end of Tommy moving forward, teeth clenched in distress.

“It's not like that,” Bruce said, keeping his voice certain, even if he didn't look it. “We came along, we went with your plan, didn't we? You're still my best friend, Tommy, come on--”

“Prove it,” Tommy said.

“What?” said Bruce, furrowing his nose.

“I told you everything Bruce,” Tommy said, and took a step forward once more, even without Bruce moving back. “So if you really care then just--”

And Tommy had pushed Bruce by the shoulders against the wall, and pushed their mouths together.

For a long, silent moment, Bruce just stared, unresponsive at him.

Then, he reeled back with a punch, and slammed Tommy flat on his back.

Before Clark knew it he had crushed his now empty shake glass in his hand.

“Gnnhshit.” He mumbled, blinking hard and looking away from the bathroom.

Holy shit.

The woman working behind the counter was already looking up and heading towards their booth to see what happened.

Harvey practically jumped in his seat at the shattering, turning to stare. “Oh, crap! Are you okay?!”

He grabbed a napkin and started trying to help, dabbing up the spilled milkshake and reaching for Clark’s hand to check for injuries.

“Yeah, I’m-- yeah I’m fine.”

He showed him his hand.

No blood. No glass stuck in it.

“What happened over here?” The woman asked, and Clark mumbled out something that was hard to hear. Something like ‘wasn’t paying attention’ and ‘sorry’.

“There must've been a crack in the glass,” Harv reasoned, helping her pick the glass up from the floor and countertop. “It just broke while you were holding it?”

From the back of the shop, two boys exited the bathroom.

“Did something happen?” Bruce asked, coming over.

(Tommy was quiet, behind him.)

Clark started to help too.

“Broke my glass.” Was all he managed, still a little too stunned to say much.

“You kids be careful, I’ll clean this up. Don’t worry about it.” The woman said, trying to shoo them off lest they end up cutting themselves.

The other three figured he was stunned from his glass exploding in his hand, and they shyly backed off a bit as the waitress shooed them.

“Sorry about this-- here,” he said, and shuffled in his pocket.

He pulled out a five.

“Whatever doesn't replace the glass is a tip,” he said, handing it to her.

“Sorry.” Clark said again, and carefully got out of the booth, picking any glass off his lap if there was any.

“Thank you young man.” The woman said, not recognizing who it was handing her the money.

“It's no problem,” he said, but even though she didn't recognize him at that moment, he still was hit by an overwhelming urge to put the cap on and hurry the group outside.

If Clark had ice cream in his lap, it was wiped off with napkins, and Tommy said, at some point, “we should probably head back.”

He and Bruce left their floats unfinished, and were ready to get out the door.

“Yeah. Good idea.” Clark said, and quickly started to walk towards the door.

God.

Shit.

Things were going to be so awkward back in the dorm.

Should he ask Bruce about it??

Bruce and Tommy said nothing. Nothing at all about what happened.

They followed Tommy and Harvey back to the Academy’s gates and took the rope out of Harv’s bag to throw it up again and get them all over.

Bruce first. The surest climber. Clark. Harvey.

Tommy picked up last. A sure climber, but big enough to catch them if they fell.

They snuck back on campus. Lassoed the end of the bed in their window, and rock climbed their way up the building in reverse order. Tommy lookout up top to keep the knot stable. Bruce, surest climber, getting up when no one would be there to catch him if he fell.

...once they were on campus, all three boys fell into their usual quiet, reserved for avoiding detection after hours, but still-- Harvey said, quietly, “...thanks for doing this. I think I needed to have a day.”

“Course,” Tommy said, stripping to his Pjs and grinning. “Anytime.”

Bruce nodded too.

“It was a good idea.”

...he returned the hat. The shirt.

He tugged on his night clothes too.

As if nothing had happened.

Clark followed them all in, kicking off his shoes and sitting on the edge of his bed as everyone wound down.

“... Yeah. Was fun.” He said, trying to sound convincing.

It was already way past hours and he didn’t want to risk sneaking out in his street clothes, so even he changed into his pajamas in the room too. At least the lights were off so maybe they wouldn’t notice anything weird.

Not that he was… that weird. A little more jacked than a sixteen year old should be, but it was dark, so…

He hurried through it and climbed into bed.

...tonight, they were all a little too distracted to really notice.

Even Bruce was too tired to have one of his quiet nightmares, which surprised even him upon waking.

...and upon waking, Tommy and Bruce would get changed together as usual.

Head off to class after sitting together at breakfast.

No hint of what had occurred between them the night before.

Clark changed in the bathroom again that morning. He was still too self-conscious to do it around everyone else.

He didn't mention anything to anyone. He ate breakfast with the others, went to classes even if it was just him and Tommy in the same one.

Waited until that evening when again it was just him and Bruce walking to the library.

“Hey, so… last night.”

…

“You and Tommy fight or anything? I thought I heard something when we got ice cream.”

There was an uptick in Bruce’s heart rate, but his confused expression revealed nothing of the sort.

“No? Maybe you heard him spook me when I got out of the stall. Wasn't expecting him.”

Ah.

“Okay, yeah. Maybe.” Is what he said instead though rather than keep prying. “Just checking that you guys are okay.”

“...why wouldn't we be?” Bruce asked, his own thoughts loud panic bells that couldn't be heard by anyone else.

No one could know. Even if Bruce didn't want it. That didn't matter as much as Tommy had done it and Bruce was a boy.

And he didn't want to know what their teachers, or the press, or Tommy’s Mom would do if they found out.

“Is something wrong?”

“Tommy seemed kinda distracted I guess. Quiet. Normally he doesn't shut up.” Clark tried to huff a laugh.

“But maybe I'm reading too much into it. I was kinda distracted too.”

“He might be tired,” Bruce said, making a mental note to tell Tommy to talk more. (Maybe it’d even make him happy.) “or dreading break, now that it's officially November.”

November.

Clark had made it to the third month.

“Dreading-- oh right, he doesn't seem to like his mom very much.” Clark said, wanting to get off the topic he brought up.

“Man I can't wait to go home and visit.”

“...it hasn't been a good couple years between them, yeah,” Bruce admitted. “...what are you going to do at home?”

Clark shrugged, “See my friends. See Ma ‘n Pa? Pet my dog?” He chuckled.

“... What do you do on break?”

“....” Bruce needed to think a moment. “Walk. Mostly.”

“... Walk?”

It sounded so weird Clark needed to make sure he heard right.

...he nodded.

“Around the grounds. I walk. Maybe read.”

He would definitely read. But.

Even he got tired of reading.

A massive manor with nothing to do in it but wander.

…

“Don't have any other family to spend Christmas with?”

He shook his head.

“...the Kanes, I guess. But no. We’re Jewish, anyway.”

“...and Tommy and Harvey’s parents won't let them escape long enough for coming over.”

…

“It's fine,” he said, already sensing the look on Clark’s face. “It's been like this for years. It's not upsetting or anything. Just dull.”

“Oh.”

…

“Would you wanna come spend it at my place?”

Bruce turned to look at him, startled.

“Huh?”

Like he hadn't quite understood for a moment.

“Do you wanna come spend break at my house? In Smallville?” Clark asked again as though Bruce hadn't heard.

“I'd have to call my parents but I don't think they'd say no.”

Before he'd even said he wanted to, Bruce was doing math in his head.

Clark had been open about how his family couldn't really afford GA. Last minute decision to come. If they couldn't afford that with only one kid it might be rough to take in another and

(Okay. Okay. What do I have to do to get out. How much money. What did he have to do.)

“Yeah,” he said, calculating the price of a plane ticket if Alfred tried to say ‘no.’ Taxi fee. Plane ticket. Get out. “Yeah, if they say yes-- they don't have to worry about much from me, I can pay for my own food and room if they need me to.”

Clark laughed a little, “You don't have to pay for room ‘n food. Maybe bus ticket though.” He stopped and looked around for one of the school's pay phones.

“You got a quarter?”

He would need to call and ask. Letters were too slow for this.

Bruce didn't usually carry the money around school, but he dropped his book bag and started rooting around in it for a stray quarter in the bottom, finally coming up victorious.

“Nice, thanks.”

Clark took it and walked over to one of the phones bolted to the wall, pushing in his money before dialing back home.

“Hey Ma. … I'm good. Um, question actually. Would you mind if a friend comes over for break? His name is Bruce. … Nah he's-- well he's Jewish but he usually spends it alone, so-- yeah. He can buy his own ticket don't worry about it. Can he use the guest room? Cool.”

Then he paused.

“Uhhhhhhh okay. Hold on.”

He held the phone to Bruce. “She wants to talk to you.”

Bruce’s spine was straight as a rail and his shoulders set, the way they always were when he knew exactly what he wanted and was staring down something in his way.

He nodded and took the phone.

“Yes, ma’am?” he said.

“Hello, Bruce? Clark says you're thinkin’ about staying with us over break. I'm fine with that but I need to know, have you run this by your parents?” A kind-sounding woman on the other end asked.

“Oh my god.” Clark groaned, having not gotten to that part yet with her and able to overhear it over the phone. He mouthed a 'sorry’ at Bruce.

“My guardian will be fine with it,” Bruce said, not letting a pang of anything show on his face. “He's been hoping I'd find someone to be with.”

“... Really?” The woman on the other end said. “I know you boys are at school but is there any way I can call your… ‘guardian’ and make sure?”

Clark was rubbing his eyes.

“Yes,” he said. “And if you tell him we called Kansas he’ll handle the distance fee.”

Fine. Fine.

He gave her the manor phone number.

“Let me call him real fast and make sure he knows.”

He mouthed to Clark, ‘kidnapping plot,’ and rolled his eyes.

Clark gave him a ‘really??’ look like he didn’t quite believe it, but said nothing.

“Okay, thank you Bruce. Is there anything I should know before you come over? Allergies…?”

Bruce nodded, looking bored as sin thinking about it.

He had to let Alfred know the nice lady on the phone was not trying to get permission to sneakily kidnap him or else he'd never get out of here.

“No, nothing like that.”

“Okay, I’ll make up the guest bed for you. Mind handing the phone back to Clark?”

“Alright.”

He did. Handed the phone back.

Listened from the short distance between them.

You didn't need super hearing to do that. And Bruce’s ears were still sharper than most.

Clark took the phone.

“Yeah?”

“Is this the Bruce you’ve been writing home about?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure his parents are going to be okay with it?”

“Guardian, Ma. He’s got a guardian. And yeah, probably.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end.

“Oh. Ohhhh. Okay, honey.”

Clark thunked his head onto the side of the payphone and looked like he would rather die. “So it’s cool? You don’t have to worry about him getting there or anything. He can afford a bus--” He paused and turned to look at Bruce.

“You gonna get a bus ticket and come with me or like…?”

“However I should get there,” he said, letting Clark suffer. “...might have to borrow your hat again for the first part, if it's a bus from here.”

“Yeah he’s gonna get a bus ticket with me.” Clark said. “Anyway we got studyin’ to do so--”

“Okay honey. I’ll call Bruce’s guardian tonight to make sure. But I guess I’ll see you in a few weeks?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Love you, sweetie.”

“.... Love you too, Ma.” Clark said a little quieter before saying goodbye and hanging up.

“You've been writing to her about me?” was the first thing out of Bruce’s mouth.

“Yeah?” Clark said. “I told her I made friends with my roommates. If I didn’t tell her that she’d think I was miserable and alone.”

“... Mentioned we’ve been working on a report, but that’s it really.”

… “Oh, okay,” Bruce said, not really sure what the knot in his chest (which was normal to have) meant right now, and whether it was loosening or tightening at that.

“I'll call Alfred,” he said, starting to dig around for another quarter in his bag. “You can go ahead if you want.”

“Nah man, I wanna see if he really does think this is a kidnapping plot.” Clark grinned, leaning up against the wall.

“Ugh,” Bruce said, rolling his eyes again and shoving in the quarter. “I'm doing it so he doesn't.”

He dialed a number. Waited.

“Hello. Alfred Pennyworth. You've reached the Wayne Estate.”

“Hi Alfred,” Bruce said. “I'm going to Kansas for winter break.”

“Pennyworth.” Clark whispered in disbelief.

What. A. Name.

Bruce turned back to look at him. Whispered: “I could've been a millionaire named ‘Pennyworth.’”

“Oh? I see it's all already been decided then, has it Master Bruce?”

“Master Bruce?”

Clark was grinning from ear to ear, like this was the most hilarious thing he’d ever heard.

Holy crap was he glad he stuck around for this conversation.

That one, Bruce kicked him for.

“...I'm just going to stay with my roommate for a bit. Okay?”

“I see. And which roommate moved to Kansas, again?” Alfred sounded dry.

“...the new one’s from there,” Bruce said. “Look, his mom’s going to call tonight and make sure it's alright. I've still got plenty of allowance. I'll just pack weekend clothes and head out from school.”

“...I see. Are you sure you wouldn't like to--”

“Yes.”

…

The other side of the phone was quiet for a while. Bruce just stared down at the buttons.

“Of course,” Pennyworth finally said. “...but please. Try to keep me more upbraided on things, wouldn't you?”

“It's not hard to find o--”

“I’d just like to not have to go searching all the time is all,” Alfred interrupted. And Bruce went silent again. “...I'm glad you've found someone to spend break with. I'll let his mother know it's fine.”

“...thanks, Alfred,” Bruce said.

And he hung up without saying goodbye.

Clark didn’t move from the kick, but his amusement died a little when things got… not exactly antagonizing between the two, but not fully great either.

“... I’m sure my mom will give him our address and everything.” Clark said when Bruce was finished, pushing himself from the wall so they could start towards the library again.

Bruce nodded. Headed off still feeling good about getting out, but…

Alfred made it hard sometimes.

“Yeah. He'll ask. What are we looking for tonight?”

“Left off with the Belinsky murders.”

#80s gay superbat #superbat #high school au #boarding school au #bruce wayne #clark kent #thomas elliot #rp logs #long post

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thoughtsaboutshows · 3 years

Note

For the prompts: 35. “I wouldn’t wanna fight you. You’re pretty feisty.”

Have a safe trip!

Hey Thanks! Finally got this one done. Another college AU!

Sabrina had been mad before. Her anger had led her into making some less than rational decisions that usually had her cousin helping her pick up the pieces. She couldn’t retreat to him with this though, because the only thing worse than living with her best friend and her ex boyfriend, who is now her best friend’s boyfriend, would be living with her cousin and Prudence. Prudence wasn’t terrible, they were just two sort of friends who could absolutely not live together. And the last thing Sabrina wanted was her single self to have to share a home with a couple.

So her frustration and anxiety sent her on a trip trailblazing through campus until she could find her favorite spot, an old rooftop garden that wasn’t used anymore but somehow still bustling with life. She liked to go and sit there when she was upset, the smell of dirt and misty leaves reminding her of the Greendale Woods. She hoped it would give her some inspiration as to how in Hell she was going to find a place to live halfway through the semester. But her emotions were not without empathy. She was happy for Roz and Harvey, that they were taking the next step and living together. She just wished they could have waited until the end of the lease for Harvey to move in.

Sabrina bounded through the door, closed her eyes and took a deep breath, before practically throwing herself down and lying on the couch that was up there. Completely unaware of the dark figure already occupying the area with a book and a smirk.

“You okay there?” He asked her and Sabrina nearly yelped in surprise, grasping her heart with her hand. She thought she was completely alone up here but she was wrong, turning her head slightly to see an upside-down Nicholas Scratch staring at her.

“Nicholas.” Sabrina mumbled as she righted herself and sat on the couch, rather than continue to lie in the lounging position she’d taken up previously. “I didn’t know anyone was up here.”

“I didn’t know I’d have company.” Nick retorted but then winked. “But I’m not complaining.” Sabrina rolled her eyes in response but a billow of heat still arose within her. His smirk was deadly, she knew that well. She’d need to tread lightly for the next few moments. “So what’s got your panties in a twist?”

Sabrina wasn’t all that shocked at Nick’s question. He’d always had an interest in her, but she always believed that interest when no deeper than blatant flirting and trying to make her go crazy. As the pseudo-sister of his best friend, Sabrina had been essentially declared off limits when she showed up at their University last year. But that hadn’t stopped Nick from being drawn to her. He couldn’t touch, but he could certainly look, and he could certainly make her blush. Which he did, nearly all the time with his flirting or his teasing or the few times at Dorian’s when they’d danced and Nick had been only inches from kissing her.

Sabrina took a deep breath before pressing her lips together and trying to find her cool. Nicholas Scratch was the last person she thought she’d vent to, but she knew herself and was aware she was on the verge of eruption if she didn’t. And beggars can’t be choosers.

“I’m about this close to absolutely killing my roommate.” Sabrina held her pointer finger and thumb close together for emphasis.

“What did Roz do?” Nick asked as he shut his book. Sabrina had stolen all of his attention. She did that all the time, and not just for him, her bright white hair like a flame and everyone turned to moths the second she walked in a room.

“Harvey’s moving in. So obviously, I’m moving out.” Sabrina explained.

“Damn, Kinkle.” Nick shook his head. He never understood the appeal. How someone as beautiful and incredible as Sabrina had dated him for so long, and now Roz.

“And I won’t move in with Ambrose and Prudence-”

“Can’t blame ya on that one, Spellman.” Nick agreed. He couldn’t see that working out well for anyone.

“So now I’m basically homeless and I can only hope and pray that I find someone on Craigslist who won’t murder me.” Sabrina said exasperated and let her face drop to her hands. Nick considered her for a moment and his offer was falling off his lips before he could even think about it.

“Move in with me.” He said quickly but surely.

“What? Nick, I don’t even know you.” Sabrina blurted and looked at him like he was crazy. She and Nick tolerated each other for Ambrose’s benefit. They were either flirting or fighting. There was no in between.

“You know me.” Nick deadpanned and stared her down.

“Okay but like what kind of milk do you buy? Are you messy? Organized? Organized messy? Do you prefer windows or AC?”

“Jesus, Spellman, this isn’t a job interview.” He shook his head and his own frustration made her smile just a little. She had fun working him up too. “I have an extra room and you need a place to live. You could just move in with me.”

“Don’t you think we’ll kill each other?” Sabrina asked him, though she was shocking herself for even considering it.

“I think that might make Ambrose sad.” Sabrina laughed outright at his sarcasm and he cracked a smile too.

“We’ll probably fight all the time.”

“I wouldn’t wanna fight you. You’re pretty feisty.” Nick told her as the corners of his lips turned up. Sabrina rolled her eyes and bit down on her lip trying to hide a smile of her own.

She pondered his suggestion and thought about what it would all mean. There was no denying that it would be convenient to just move in with Nick. She knew him well enough to know she’d be safe and from what she knew his apartment wasn’t far from hers. But at the same time there had been too many instances when she had almost kissed him or his lips brushed her neck on the dance floor when Ambrose wasn’t looking. She worried that if left alone and to their own devices, they’d follow through with one of their almosts.

But the way he was staring at her, hopeful and inviting, made her want to throw caution to the wind and move in with Nicholas Scratch. Their obvious attraction be damned. They were playing with fire but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She needed a place to live and the handsome bookworm, Nicholas Scratch, was offering her a place to rest her head.

“This is a terrible idea.” Sabrina said to him, as she finally let herself smile. His eyes traveled to her lips and a pit in his stomach formed, as if suddenly realizing he’d have to restrain himself even more around her. He’d have to see her red lips every day and know he couldn’t kiss them. But the smile on her face and the relief evident at having a place to go made it all worth it.

“Maybe.” Nick shrugged but held out his hand. “Let’s do this, roomie.”

Sabrina grabbed it to shake but nearly dropped it at the sparks that shot through her body. His eyes widened, if only for a moment, but it told her he felt it too. He cleared his throat and for the first time since she’d met him he looked nervous, unsettled even. She felt the same way, like her body would be off kilter until she touched him again. After looking at each other for a little too long, they both settled into a semi-comforatble silence. Nick turned back to his book and Sabrina pulled out her laptop to work on a paper. They both stole a glance at the other here and there, and both came to the same conclusion.

They wouldn’t be just roommates for long.

#nabrina #Nicholas Scratch #sabrina spellman #otp prompts #college au

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cvriolanus · 4 years

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pretty thing | caliban imagine

a/n: hello! this is my very first oneshot for caliban, as well as my first time writing again in over two years... please be patient with me, any mistakes or errors are my own. if you want to request something caliban related, just message me! i’ll be happy to write for you! also, feedback is always appreciated! thank you.

plot: you and caliban get up to some fun in Hell’s library.

warnings: fem!reader, manipulation, cocky caliban, sexual tension, fluff but not really??

˚✧₊♡⁎⁺˳.•

Caliban didn’t know what to make of you.

You confused him, so oblivious of his affection towards you. Caliban was drawn to you the moment he felt your presence, lingering next to the daughter of the Dark Lord, Sabrina Spellman.

Your bright eyes, shining in interest at the setting around you. Completely unaware of the hungry looks half the court was making at you, it made his insides burn. Unfortunately, he could do little to stop it. You weren’t his, you didn’t belong to him. The only thing Caliban could do was watch you from afar, making sure nothing happened to you, he made sure you were safe. That nobody would lay a finger on you or he’d drag them to Hell himself and make sure that their bodies were unrecognizable once he was finished. He could be cruel, he was aware of that already, but for you — he wasn’t sure how far he’d go to make sure that nobody would harm you. The thought alone infuriated him and he had no idea why.

You would often accompany Sabrina to Hell, asking if she could bring you along since the first time you went to Hell, something making you want to go back to that horrid place again and again — you just didn’t know what exactly what or rather more, who it was. It all started when you, Roz, Theo, Harvey and Sabrina went to Hell to get Sabrina’s boyfriend back.

You weren’t completely sure what it was, but the feeling was there all around you. You felt warm, protected and safe. You didn’t know if the warmth came from Hell itself, but you knew for sure that Hell wasn’t exactly a safe place... If anything, you’d most likely be killed the moment a demon laid their greedy eyes on you.

Sabrina listened to you, at first thinking that you’ve gone mental, but after hearing you out she decided that it wouldn’t hurt. As long as you stayed close to her and didn’t wander off, then you could go. The only downside was that you had to wear a pair of deadman shoes again.

Today was your third time in Hell, Sabrina was sitting on the throne discussing business with Lilith as usual, the only unusual thing was that there was now a man there that you recognized from the ‘Shores of Sorrow’. He was standing next to the Plague King’s, whispering to each other while the nameless man, with dirty blond hair and flawless skin, watched you with piercing eyes.

You didn’t know who he was, just that he was gorgeous and apparently likes building sandcastles. He also seems to like watching you, since the moment you’ve arrived, he hasn’t looked away. His eyes were intense, his face blank of emotion and he did nothing but stand there with the Kings and listen, occasionally giving a nod of understanding.

You swallowed, shrinking more and more into the corner, until Sabrina called your name. You had to practically tear your eyes away from the man, or else he’d probably think you’re the crazy one. You looked up to find Sabrina frowning at you, before opening her mouth. “Why don’t you and I hit the library? Lilith was just telling me that Hell has its very own personal library, one that my father used to use when he wanted to be alone. It has all these ancient texts and I know how much you love to read.”

You smiled softly, nodding. “Yeah, that sounds lovely. Show me the way, ‘Brina.” Sabrina smiled brightly, before taking your hand into hers and leading you to the library. Once the two of you got there, Lilith immediately pops up in a tornado of raging flames, giving Sabrina a hard glare. “I told you that you could visit the library after your duties were finished for the day.”

Sabrina looked sheepish, opening her mouth to make up an excuse, but you beat her right to it. “Oh, Sabrina was just showing me the way here since she knows how much I love to read, she was afraid I’d get lost and felt that I needed to escape since I looked a little out of place,” you replied smoothly.

Lilith looked like she didn’t believe you, which she probably didn’t, but she nodded anyways. “Quite. You will stay here until Sabrina is finished, and then, and only then, she will come back to collect you to bring you back home, mortals don’t belong here anyways.”

You frowned, “Alright.” Sabrina shook her head, clearly disapproving of the way Lilith seemed to talk down at you, instead of with you. “Come Sabrina, we still have much to discuss.” Lilith spoke, clearly feeling impatient by the way she was tapping her foot against the hard marble. Sabrina gave you an apologetic look, promising you that she wouldn’t be long.

Once the two of them left, you went ahead and went through the many isles of bookshelves. This had to be the biggest library you’ve ever stepped foot into, it was at least twenty times bigger than the one at the Academy, it just had to be.

You roamed the different isles of books, running your fingertips over the spines of books gently. You wondered if you could do some research and find out why you were so drawn to Hell. As you collected the books you found that would be helpful, you made your way to the back of the library, seeing a bunch of cherry-wooden tables lined up with chairs for your pleasure.

You grinned, grateful as you hurriedly dropped the books on the table with a huff, they were absolutely heavy. You sat down, taking the first book in your view and opening it up, trailing your finger down the table of contents. Of course, there was a massive fireplace crackling away, keeping the library warm and comfortable.

A hour had passed, with you already halfway through the giant book when you heard the large, oak doors slam shut. You jumped, easily spooked out by the loud sound. You lifted your head, wincing slightly from your neck cracking. “Hello?” you asked, wondering if Sabrina had returned.

Nobody answered.

You were certain that you heard the doors to the library open and close, so you decided to get up and investigate. With your heart pounding against your ribcage frantically, you carefully got up and made your way to the nearest isle of books. With a shaky breath, you called out again. “Sabrina? Is that you?” Maybe whoever it was couldn’t hear you since this place was so massive, but it was so quiet in here... surely, that couldn’t be the case.

You walked slowly, your sneakers luckily not making any noise which you were thankful for. You heard another sound suddenly, and it sounded like a cry for help, a woman’s cry. “H-Hello? Please answer me,” you begged, beginning to really panic now. The crying grew closer with each step you took, seeming to get louder and louder as the person crying was full on screaming now, shaking the walls of this place.

You quickly ran down the long isle, not noticing a pair of eyes on you. As you went to go another way, the crying stopped. It was silent, except from your heavy breathing.

“You have the most beautiful heartbeat.”

You let out a loud cry, grabbing a heavy book from the shelf and swinging it at the intruder behind you, before they abruptly grasped your wrist tightly to stop your movements.

It was the man from the beach.

Your eyes immediately widened, “Y-You again, how did you—“

“I followed you. Figured a pretty thing like you shouldn’t be left alone down here, where anything could get to you and tear up that pretty face of yours.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, making your nose scrunch up a bit. “Who are you?” you asked, your voice stern, eyes ablazed. “You nearly gave me a heart attack, I thought someone was hurt or worse—“

“I’m sorry I frightened you, sweetheart. But I must admit, I do like a game of cat and mouse quite a lot. As for who I am, I’m Caliban, Prince of Hell,” Caliban spoke, his voice deep and smooth like velvet.

You instantly felt your heart sink at his words, like a giant grenade bomb going off in you. “Oh,” you spoke dumbly. “Prince of Hell?” you questioned, still slightly shaken from this whole encounter. Caliban, the Prince of Hell, smiled. It was breathtaking. Caliban hummed softly, still holding your wrists in his strong grasp. “What would the Prince of Hell be doing following a mortal girl like me?” you wondered aloud.

Caliban chuckled softly, finally letting go of you and taking a step back, running long fingers through his blond hair lazily. “I’ve been following you, for the last couple of weeks... don’t tell me you haven’t felt my presence near you, I know that you could feel me,” Caliban purred, taking a step towards you, daringly.

Your mouth went dry, not sure you heard him correctly. “But why? You don’t know me, I’m just—“

“Beautiful,” Caliban interrupted, his voice low as his eyes seemed to dilate. You let out a nervous laugh, shifting from foot to foot. Caliban’s pink lips curled up into a smirk, “Would you like to join me in bed?”

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head, “What? No! I don’t—I don’t even know you! You could kill me!” Caliban let out a small laugh at your naive tone, backing you up against a bookshelf, his arms trapping you. Your breathing increased, pressing your back against the shelf until the hard wood was digging into your back uncomfortably, making you let out a small wince. His eyes lit up at the noise.

“I won’t hurt you, not unless you enjoy pain,” Caliban spoke, looking down at you with a hungry look in his eyes. Caliban bent so that his face was just mere centimeters away from yours, now breathing the same air as you. The familiar feelings of warmth surrounded you again, but you didn’t feel safe this time. Your lips parted, about to tell this guy to fuck off, but Caliban was quicker, pressing his lips against yours desperately.

You let out a low whine, immediately gripping Caliban’s arms just as he deepened the kiss, swiping his hot tongue over your bottom lip, making you whimper. You didn’t even notice, but you began kissing him back just as fiercely, craving his hot mouth on yours. “Please,” you begged, brokenly. You didn’t know what you were asking from him, but he seemed to know exactly what you needed.

Caliban pressed his entire body against yours, your nipples hardening at the feel of his hard body against your own. Caliban brought up his right hand, cupping the side of your face while continuing to kiss you passionately, his tongue now stroking yours eagerly, his thumb gently stroking your jaw. The Prince of Hell noticed how sensitive you were, he could smell the honey pooling between your legs. It was making him crazy, feral almost.

“Let me fuck you,” Caliban rasped, pulling only a inch away, grinding his hardness into your hips, making you let out a shaky moan. You didn’t know what the fuck was going on, one minute you were desperate to get away from this man, the next he had you pinned up against a bookshelf, kissing you senseless.

You were about to respond, but the library doors slammed open, your eyes following the sound of footsteps grow closer and closer. You swallowed, your skin beginning to feel damp with sweat. A voice you recognized called your name, making your heart begin to race once again. It was Sabrina. “You have to go,” you pleaded Caliban, who only seemed annoyed at being interrupted from his time with you.

A idea seemed to pop into his head only a second later, his lips forming a gorgeous smirk, “No,” he purred, bending down so that his lips ghosted over your ear. His lips began trailing down your neck, peppering wet kisses against your soft skin, lightly sucking on your pulse point.

You let out a needy moan, throwing your head back with a soft thump as it collided with the hard bookshelf, though you paid it little attention, too focused on this man that was making your legs weak.

Sabrina’s voice broke you out of your little world once again, startling you. She was coming closer. “Pretty thing. Are you scared of your friend finding us back here?” Caliban growled, nipping lightly at your neck before he pressed his lips against yours once more, his arms wrapping around you tightly. “She’d be so disappointed with you...” he trailed off, leaving you to your dark thoughts. “Just think, you’re getting felt up by the one person who your dear friend Sabrina is fighting against to claim the throne of Hell, is now about to fuck her best friend in the back of her father’s library. How scandalous,” he tutted, before letting out a soft laugh as he pressed another kiss against your plump lips.

“N-No, you can’t,” you wailed, trying to break free of his power over you. Caliban smiled, shaking his head. “Yes, I can.” Tears were prickling at your eyes, making them burn with angst. “Please, Caliban—I’ll do anything,” you whimpered.

Caliban seemed to pause at your words, hearing Sabrina’s heels clicking against the marble flooring, most likely trying to find you in this maze, but unbeknownst to both of you, Caliban had the two of you cloaked. Caliban pulled back slightly, looking at the tears pooling in your pretty eyes. He frowned, letting out a aggravated sigh. “Anything?”

You nodded frantically, your lips parting to try and compromise with this man. “Yes,” you breathed. “I promise.”

Caliban smiled, showing off his straight, white teeth. “Alright, well since you promise...” he trailed off, playfully. Caliban looked at you for a minute longer, savoring the way you looked to his memory. You were perfect in his eyes.

“I’ll be waiting for you tonight,” Caliban said, pulling away from you, though staying close. “Make sure you’re awake, or I’ll be very displeased.”

“Tonight?” you asked, puzzled.

“In your bedroom, midnight. See you then, pretty thing.”

With that being said, Caliban disappeared into a whirl of flames, making you jump. The second he was gone, Sabrina came around the corner, a smile on her face. “There you are! Sweet Satan, I was looking all over for you. Are you okay? I’m so sorry I left you alone, but business in Hell is a little... overwhelming.”

You shook your head, smiling as you tried blinking away your tears. “I’m fine, let’s get out of here, yeah?”

Sabrina sighed, nodding at you. “Absolutely, I’m starving. You want to grab something to eat? Maybe we can catch a movie later to, if you’re willing to stay over.”

You agreed happily, “Sure, I just can’t be out too late.”

Sabrina wiggled her eyebrows at you, walking by your side to the entrance of the library. “Ooh, you’ve got plans with someone or something?”

You grinned, your heart pounding in your chest at the thought of him. “Or something.”

Sabrina laughed, taking your hand so that she could bring you back to earth. You would never openly admit it, but you were looking forward to later that night.

fin

#caos caliban #caos part 3 #caos #chilling adventures of sabrina #sabrina spellman #prince of hell #caliban #prince caliban #caliban caos

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dercolaris · 3 years

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Discussion

Hey ho everyone. A new, very short, but hopefully funny story, this time for @highwarlockemrysrage. I didn’t forget your idea and but yeah - it took me sooooo long. Sorry :/

Thanks like always for the beta reading, @shin-arei.

Enjoy!

Jonathan stared lost in his half-full whiskey glass, poured the remaining alcohol down his dry throat after a brief swirl. It was the third Friday evening of the month. This meant an almost 'secret' meeting of some villains, who gathered together near the Iceberg Lounge in a rather poorly frequented bar and wildly discussed future evil plans. The Master of Fear smiled a little, felt the slight sting deep in his throat. These gatherings were now the real highlights of a busy week, especially when the well selected company could talk or argue with one another undisturbed. The one and only Edward Nygma, Harleen Quinzel, Pamela Isley, Jervis Tetch and Harvey Dent in particular were part of the small group beside Jonathan. Every now and then Victor Fries also honoured the talkative group, but the serene cryologist was stupidly stuck in Arkham again for more than two months. In fact, given their questionable positions in Gotham, that wasn't really surprising for anyone. Someone was always wanted by the police and was either in a psychiatric ward or in the normal prison in Black Gate. So for better or worse they had to do their little talk without Mr. Freeze today. Before Jonathan could worry about his now good friend in Arkham, Edward thundered his glass on the rancid table without a warning. The Riddler wiped his mouth and mumbled in a voice that had grown rough from the high amount of alcohol: "And you really think that you will succeed with this - let's call it careful - 'plan' to finally overthrow Batman, Harvey? No offence, but the idea is so absurd and ridiculous that I don't even want to think about helping you with it. That would be a waste of my precious resources and especially time. Many of you probably don't care what Gotham thinks of you, but I have a good reputation to lose!” This outburst was followed by an amused giggle from the botanist. The redhead stirred the alcohol-free cocktail with a wooden stick and replied almost cynically: “What reputation do you mean, Eddy? Maybe with your beloved delivery service? We all know that you order three pizzas a day and that you insist to get the third delivery of food for free because you are such a loyal customer. I would almost laugh if it wasn't so sad. You are so close to be absolutely pathetic."

The addressee snorted angrily and cracked his fingers threateningly. Ivy had hit an open nerve in the quick-tempered nerd again. Before he could answer, however, Jervis came before him, who replied quietly: “Please don't listen to Mr. Nygma. He loves to talk about things that he doesn't really understand. I think your idea is brilliant, Mr. Dent, and it is absolutely realistic to implement. If I can help you in any way, I will be happy to offer you my humble services. For a reasonable fee, of course.” Two-Face smiled crookedly, the burned half of his face didn't react properly at that moment, as usual. The former attorney poured himself another whiskey into his glass and smelled the alcohol. He sipped the drink, then played with his silver coin in his hand. Harvey mumbled softly: “We'll find something you can help me out with, Jervis. And you don't have to worry about the right payment. One hand washes the other after all. I will keep my promise.” The next moment his face twisted into a horrible grimace. His second personality hissed angrily: “And for you, Nygma, we still have a cosy, warm place left in the crematorium. You slimy piece of gay shit!” “Well well!”, the clearly drunk harlequin suddenly rebuked her friend with an exaggerated smile,“we are a decent community here and we shouldn't mess with each other with dirty words. You two obviously disagree, and that's fine too. No reason to argue now. Besides, we don't discriminate against minorities, Harv." The Riddler crossed his arms in anger over his chest, chewing on his lower lip visibly ill-tuned. Contrary to his wish to finally make room for his anger, the tinkerer remained silent on the harsh insults. This was probably due to the simple fact that the former lawyer always appeared heavily armed to the meetings and could do without a bullet or two from the revolver in order to do his own kind of persuasion. Scarecrow sighed cautiously and spoke calmly: "I don't understand any more why we have to discuss Edward's sexual orientation almost every time we meet." The Riddler growled throatily and spat back to the former psychiatrist louder than planned: "Oh and right now we don't have to talk about yours or what? For your small information, John: we've been a goddamn couple for eight months! Besides, I can already guess what to expect in the bedroom tonight if you keep drinking like this. Fuck, you are really unbearable when you have reached a certain alcohol level. Irresponsible drunk bastard. "

Harvey suddenly smirked. Apparently this time both sides had decided unanimously that the nerd's exaggerated reaction contributed to the general amusement of society. Pamela rolled her eyes and replied dryly: "At least he doesn't start crying like you do with the second glass of whiskey, Eddy." The addressee opened his mouth to say something, but he seemed to have no words. It was all the more fitting that the frightened bartender put a new bottle of whiskey on the table. Harley was now lying with his head on her forearms, muttering unintelligible words. The alcohol had done its work for the lively woman. For a moment silence fell between the villains until the Mad Hatter asked softly: "We are still no closer to the initial question, ladies and gentlemen." The Master of Fear wrinkled his nose. Like every week, they puzzled over the true identity of the Dark Knight. The wildest ideas had already emerged, especially when enough hard liquor had flowed. Last month, Harley had actually tried to suspect Selina Kyle and was not dissuaded all evening before her suggestion. Pamela's justified objections were also successfully ignored by the young woman. Catwoman could simply hide her ample breasts under her armour and speak in a deeper voice. The fact that the two heroes were often seen together did not seem to have been a counter-argument for her stupid theory. Jonathan burped cautiously and stared tipsy at the coaster on the table. Tonight the usual suspects had all been discussed at length. As always, Bruce Wayne was a must. Nevertheless, another person seemed to want to push himself into the centre that night, who was always pushed aside so far. As if to confirm another ludicrous idea, the inventor grumbled sceptically: “That won't do anything in this group anyway, Jervis. Half of those present are no longer entirely in their consolation when we seriously talk about whether the ugly clown face could be the Bat. How the hell do you come up with such a mental shitstorm?" The former lawyer groaned loudly at this statement and replied in a scratchy voice: "Can you actually do anything other than just complain, Nygma? You're really getting on our nerves, smart ass." Edward breathed jerkily. He appeared to be about to explode.

To everyone surprise, Harley suddenly lifted her head and slurred confidently: “Puddin is definitely not Batsy. Never! In! The! Fucking! Life! I swear on everything I love and like!” That was probably all that the blonde-haired woman could contribute to the conversation. As confirmation, her head jerked back onto her forearms. Pamela put an arm gently around her drunken girlfriend and hesitantly added: “If anyone knows anything about the Clown, it must be this crazy woman here. I think we can remove Joker from the list of suspects with a clear conscience. For good this time.” The Mad Hatter straightened his top hat a little and took a sip of the bitter black tea. An unproductive silence fell between those present. As usual, this was broken by Edward again: “Well, we're back to the beginning, aren't we? We're going round and round successfully, gentlemen.” That night, too, they probably wouldn't get a step closer to the riddle called Batman. Some things probably never changed.

#DC #Batman #Jonathan Crane #Scarecrow #edward nygma #Riddler #Poison Ivy #pamela lillian isley #Two-Face #Harvey Dent #Jervis Tetch #Mad Hatter #Harleen Quinzel #Harley Quinn #Drunk folks #For highwarlockemrysrage

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ecoamerica · 24 days

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youtube

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gendercraft · 3 years

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When I Fell Overboard [Chapter Four: Lack of Love]

Read on ao3

Synopsis: Sebastian struggles with his relationship with Maru as she strives to get close to him. Meanwhile, he and Elliott get closer and closer.

Trigger warnings: Panic attacks, fighting, snapping, potentially unsympathetic Robin, crying, food mention, let me know if I missed anything please

There were some days that Sebastian was much more sensitive than normal. That sucked, because he was already pretty sensitive. But he woke up with his eyes already wet, dreading getting out of bed and facing his parents.

He laid in bed for a few hours on his phone, and by the time he finally left his room, it was dark. He fumbled for the coffee pot as his family sat around the dinner table, conversation screeching to a halt.

“Do you really need that right now, Sebby?” Mom asked, voice dripping with concern.

“Yes,” he said emphatically.

“Is everything okay?” Demetrius asked.

He hesitated. “Fine,” he mumbled, dumping in sugar and cream and bringing it to his face to feel the steam.

“So, Maru,” Robin said after a few awkward moments of silence, “how are things at the clinic?”

Oh, fuck. Sebastian had to get out of there. His stomach growled, clenching painfully. He pulled open the cupboard and looked around for anything he could scrape together.

“It’s good! Harvey says I’m on my way towards a promotion!”

“That’s my girl!” Demetrius clapped her on the back. “I’m so proud of you!”

Mac ‘n’ cheese, pasta… would take too long. Sandwich? Too heavy for just waking up.

“Sebby?” Mom tapped her fork against her plate. “Have you still been looking?”

“Looking for what?” He asked in annoyance, though he knew.

“A job,” Demetrius laughed.

“I still have a job.” He grabbed a sleeve of crackers. “I make more money than she does.”

“Don’t be so rude,” Mom gasped.

“He does programming, remember?” Maru said.

“And… that’ll pay the bills when you move out?”

He turned. Mom was smiling that horrible, condescending, worried smile, sadness in her eyes. Demetrius stared at Sebastian like he was a specimen he was trying to understand. Maru stared stubbornly at her plate of spaghetti.

“We’ve had this conversation a million times,” he managed through gritted teeth. “Why can you take Maru’s job seriously but not mine?” His voice cracked.

Don’t cry. It’s not a big deal.

“We want to take it seriously, Sebby, that’s not—” She sighed. “Don’t be an instigator.”

“Don’t be a— what?” Sebastian blinked. “How the hell am I being an instigator?” He looked to Maru. Why couldn’t she just say something?

“You’re getting so worked up, look at you!” She stood. Sebastian pressed himself against the counter. “Why are you so upset?”

They weren’t listening. They weren’t going to listen.

He sniffled and wiped at his face stubbornly. He shoved the sleeve of crackers in his jacket pocket and headed for the door.

“Sebastian!” Demetrius called. “Get back here!”

Sebastian slammed the door, and cringed. Maybe that was a bit much. Maybe not. He didn’t know.

The crackers rustled in his pocket. He wasn’t hungry anymore.

Why are you so upset? Maru’s getting a promotion. Good for her.

He made his way down to the beach, not quite by habit but by instinct. Something about Elliott just made him feel… good. He needed to see him. It reminded him of when he first became friends with Sam and Abigail. His favourite part of the day was seeing them, he hurt when he wasn’t with them, he thought about them near constantly—thinking of ways to impress them, make them happy, things to talk about them with.

He knocked hard on the cabin door. A screech of a chair on wood, footsteps, then the door swung open.

Elliott brightened. “Sebastian! What a lovely surprise!” He stepped side and let him in. “Another piano lesson?”

They’d had two more since the first. Elliott was a slow learner, but Sebastian didn’t mind. All the more time to spend together, all the more excuses. Sebastian liked adjusting Elliott’s hands, feeling his soft skin before rearranging them on the keys.

“We can, sure,” he mumbled, fumbling for his pack. “Do you care if I smoke in here?”

“Let me open a window first.” He rested a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. “You look unwell. Did something happen?”

Sebastian hesitated. “Is it okay for me to be constantly unloading on you like this?”

He held out his arm. “I asked, didn’t I? If I didn’t have the energy, I wouldn’t have asked.”

Sebastian settled on the bed. He pulled his legs to his chest, resting his chin on his knees. He quietly explained what happened with Maru, then shrugged.

“Not a big—”

“Don’t.” Elliott settled next to him and wrapped an arm around him. Sebastian stiffened, then leaned into his side, resting his head on Elliott’s shoulder. “Don’t you dare. Why did it upset you? Genuinely.”

“We’ve had that conversation a million times,” he said softly. “They don’t take my job seriously.”

“They don’t take you seriously.”

“No.” He closed his eyes. “They don’t. They act like they’re trying, but how hard is it? And Maru could’ve said something.”

“Yeah, she could’ve. I’m sorry.”

“Were you writing? Did I interrupt you?”

“Oh, I’ve been writing all day, intermittently. I probably needed a break anyway.” Elliott pressed his forehead to the top of Sebastian’s head. “You’re welcome company, I promise.”

Sebastian blushed. “Can I stay for a little while?”

“As long as you’d like.” Elliott rubbed his hand up and down Sebastian’s arm, and Sebastian shivered.

Elliott was warm, warm enough to fight the draft in the cabin. Sebastian buried his face in Elliott’s shoulder and they stayed there for a while, until Elliott kicked off his shoes and tugged at Sebastian’s hand. Sebastian unlaced his sneakers and shoved them off, crawling over to lay next to Elliott and rest his head on Elliott’s chest and tangle their legs. Part of Sebastian thought this was a dream. Why in God’s name would Elliott want to cuddle with him?

But here they were. Elliott rubbing his hand up and down Sebastian’s back, Sebastian squeezing his eyes shut tight and gripping onto him. He wished he could do this every day. He never wanted to leave.

“Do you know how handsome you are?” Elliott murmured, and this was it, this was when Sebastian was going to die.

“Stop it,” he grumbled, and Elliott chuckled.

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this,” Elliott admitted, “but I’m glad to have you in my life.”

Sebastian didn’t respond—he couldn’t. He bit his lip hard and nuzzled into Elliott’s chest. His heart was going crazy, he felt like it was going to move so fast it would stop. He could barely breathe.

“Tell me about your work,” Elliott said.

“Uh… why?”

“Because I want to try and understand it.”

Sebastian swallowed. “Uh… alright. Alright, sure.”

He started by going through the project he was working on, a website for a new band out in Zuzu City. He wasn’t sure if he should go through the mechanics or the end result or what, but Elliott wanted to hear everything, so he spouted everything. Once he started talking, it was easy to get into a rhythm, at least with something he knew so much about. Elliott listened intently, asked questions a few times, but mostly laid there and stroked his back and occasionally brushed back his hair.

“That sounds like really hard work,” Elliott said. “I could never.”

“What are you writing about?”

He brightened. “Right now, a short story. About a girl struggling with suicidal thoughts.”

“It sounds bleak.”

“It has a hopeful ending,” he promised. “She’s affected by tropes of everything getting better after a suicide attempt and it makes it seem appealing. She lives, of course. She saves herself.”

“So things do get better after her suicide attempt?” Sebastian asked.

“Only because she makes it. She doesn’t meet a random stranger who saves her, her parents don’t suddenly understand. And I imagine she still struggles for a while. The story won’t follow that part—the important part is that she saves her own life.”

“I like that,” Sebastian mumbled. “Can I read it?”

Elliott was practically vibrating. “Of course! Once it’s finished! You’ll be the first, I promise.”

They laid there for a while longer. Sebastian lulled to sleep, relaxed in Elliott’s arms with his fingers running through his hair. He didn’t wake until two in the morning, when he carefully extracted himself from Elliott’s arms and laced up his sneakers. He didn’t want to leave, but if he stayed out all night, he couldn’t imagine the fit his mom would have.

Over the next few weeks, they continued their piano lessons. Touch became an important part of their friendship, and Sebastian couldn’t have been happier. He hadn’t realized how badly he was craving it, how much he needed it, and he just prayed Elliott felt the same, wasn’t pitying him.

“Robin, can I borrow the truck today?” Maru asked one day as they had lunch.

Sebastian looked up from his sandwich. Mom nodded. “Of course! What for?”

“Harvey has a conference in Zuzu City, he wants me to come with. He was going to go by train, but I figured-”

“You said I could use the truck today,” Sebastian said. “You promised me last week.”

“Oh, I did?” Mom frowned. “Well, what are you doing today?”

“Sam, Abby, and I were going to see Hemlock Addition in Grampleton. This means a lot to Sam, he wants to do research for the band. Abigail, too.”

“Well…” Mom looked between them nervously. “Maru does have a conference…”

“She doesn’t even have to go!” He cried. “And they can take the train!”

“How is a concert more important than my promotion, Sebastian? You can take the train, too!”

“Hey! Stop fighting! Maybe neither of you get the truck.”

Sebastian grinded his teeth. “But you already promised-”

“Maru, you can take the truck.”

She grinned. Sebastian’s heart dropped. He stared between them.

Mom held her hands up. “I said stop fighting,” she said, and left.

“Great,” Sebastian mumbled, standing to throw away his sandwich crusts. “You got what you wanted, again. Happy for you.”

“Don’t be so sour,” she sighed. “You can take the train.”

“Yeah, like we have money for that,” he snapped. “Sam will be crushed. If you had to take the train, Demetrius would’ve paid for it.”

“He’ll pay for you, too, if you just ask—”

“No, he won’t!” Sebastian glared at her. “What in Yoba’s name makes you think he would?”

“Because- because- because he always pays for me!”

“They don’t treat us the same, Maru!” He yelled. “How have you not realized that?!”

“Because maybe that’s not so bad!” She snapped.

“Not so bad? You’re right, I love being pushed aside all the time. It’s great.”

“Sebastian!” Demetrius stood in the doorway. “Why are you yelling at your sister?”

Sebastian’s phone rang. He sighed and pulled it out, then relaxed.

Elliott.

“I’m gonna take this,” he mumbled, going down to his room.

He answered the phone. “Hey.”

“You sound glum. What’s wrong?”

“Fight with Maru,” he mumbled.

“Sebastian, I have a question.”

He sat on his bed, sending a quick text to the group chat with Sam and Abigail. “Alright?”

“Do you want a relationship with Maru? A good one, where you’re friends?”

Sebastian glanced at his door. “Honestly? I… couldn’t care less. I want us to stop fighting, but past that… I don’t know. She’s just another resident of Pelican Town. Her being my step sister doesn’t mean much to me.”

“I can’t say I understand that,” he admits. “I’m very close with my siblings. But if that’s what you want…”

Sebastian stopped listening. It wasn’t a conscious decision, but he spiralled deep into his own frustrations, his only thought being, Another person who doesn’t understand me. That probably wasn’t fair, but it was how he was feeling.

“I finished that story I was working on.”

Sebastian perked up. “Oh, yeah? Can I read it?”

“Once it’s edited. Can I read you a small portion of it, though?”

Sebastian laid back in bed. “Of course.” He found his earbuds and plugged them in so he could lay his phone on his chest and close his eyes.

Rustling of pages, then Elliott’s smooth voice bled through the phone, weaving an image of a girl, alone in her bedroom, considering suicide. She didn’t actually attempt in that scene, but she was talking about all the reasons why it could help, intermittent with a desperate plea to herself not to do it, a Devil’s advocate. It was a back and forth scene, something she couldn’t fully commit either opinion on.

“I like it,” Sebastian mumbled, and stifled a yawn. “Read more stuff to me.”

Elliott laughed. “Like what?”

“I don’t care. What’ve you got?”

“Hm… I think you might like this one. It’s another short story collection, set in the Solorian Chronicles universe.”

Sebastian grinned. “Hell yeah.”

Elliott started the first story, and it lulled Sebastion half asleep, enough to where he dreamed of what Elliott was telling him and didn’t register when Elliott asked him a question. He didn’t realize he fell asleep until he woke up. The call was still running. Weird.

“Elliott?” He asked in a raspy voice, and got a snore in return. He chuckled.

He went to end the call, then hesitated. He shoved his phone in his pocket and kept his headphones in. Elliott’s soft snores filled his ears as he got to work on his project.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at his door. He pulled out his earbuds in annoyance. “What is it?”

“Can I come in?” Maru called.

Great.

“Yeah.”

She opened the door and stuck her head in. “I need your help with something.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m working. What is it?”

“There’s something wrong with the programming on my newest robot,” she said. “Can you look at it?”

He hesitated. “Uh. Alright. Sure.”

He followed her to his room. Mom and Demetrius watched them carefully as they passed. He sat at Maru’s desk and pulled up her computer, eyeing the code carefully.

“So what were you working on?” She asked awkwardly.

He eyed her, then went back to the code. “Work. A project for a client.”

“Yeah, but what is it?”

“Why do you need to know?”

“I’m just curious!”

He doubted that, but he said, “A website for a new band in Zuzu City. Golden Day or something, I don’t know.”

“That’s cool.” A pause, then, “How long have you been working on it?”

He sighed. “What’s going on, Maru?”

“I just… thought we could talk.” She forced a smile.

“You and Mom and Demetrius, you’ve been acting so weird. Is this really about us fighting so much?”

“Well, we promised it would stop, yet it happened again this morning.”

“That wasn’t my fault,” he snapped.

“I didn’t say it was!” She huffed. “Don’t be so testy.”

“Do you even need help with the code?” He asked in frustration.

She sighed. “No.”

Figured. What kind of trap was this?

“I’m leaving.” He stood.

Maru grabbed his arm. He ripped it away, but turned to look at her.

“What?”

“Why are you so insistent on us being apart?” She asked incredulously.

“You have everything, Maru,” he said flatly. “Everything. You’ve got the job, you’re the apple of Mom and Demetrius’ eye, you’ve got all their love, all their attention—do you really need mine, too?”

She stared at him. She looked away. “It’s not that simple,” she mumbled.

“No. It is. We don’t need to be friends, Maru. Get over yourself.”

He left.

He felt cruel, he felt awful. But as much as he tried, he couldn’t separate her face with the lack of love from his parents.

same procedure! <3 please reblog

#stardew valley #sdv #elliott sdv #sebastian sdv #elliott/sebastian #when i fell overboard

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moonlightreal · 3 years

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Fate looks toward season 2

Where you reach the bad ending, where do you go from there?

In season 1 we got the bad ending. The school had been taken over by Rosalind, Queen Luna, and Andreas, who are all extremely sus people!

Queen Luna believes in being in control, and you only get control by having power. This is most obvious in the way she tries to crush her daughter’s spirit, thinking she can force Stella to be perfect. She’s also a believer in the Sith philosophy of using hate and anger to fuel magic. Oh, and she covered up what happened at Aster Dell, which is super sketch. We’re not totally sure what did happen, but if it was “heroes destroy town of blood witches and Burned ones!’ she probably wouldn’t have needed to cover it up.

Andreas is… he’s an odd one! Is anybody else getting crazy-eyes vibes from him? His eyes are not actually crazy but there’s somethin’ off about the dude. Badass Marco mentioned him as having “bloodlust” and said it was maybe good that Sky didn’t take after his dad. Andreas respects Rosalind to the point of drawing sword on his friend to follow Rosalind’s orders. We hear from Silva that Rosalind had given Andreas a sense of purpose and he felt indebted to her. For what, I wonder.

He also seems to have hidden out of the public view for sixteen years on Rosalind’s command! I wonder where he was hiding! Was it just him and Beatrix in a cottage somewhere? Also, why did Andreas neglect his son but agree to raise Beatrix? Maybe he thought she was the chosen one, that’d be a good enough reason but B honestly seems to care for her foster father.

Also, and this is something I don’t think the show meant to imply… sometimes kids who are abused grow up to be overly sexual, since they learn the wrong kind of love from adults when they’re young. That suggests a whole ‘nother level of grimdark and I do not think the writers meant to go there. I think they just went “raised by Andreas” and “evil = slutty stereotype” and never put the two thoughts together to see the icky implications. I sure as blazes hope not! There’s dark and then there’s just ew.

And then there’s Rosalind. What do we even know about her? She was headmistress before Dowling, and mentor-slash-commanding-officer to the adults. And she knows more about magic than the teachers at the school. A lot more. She knows about the nature of the Burned Ones and the Dragon Flame, and she taught Bloom how to transform in like an hour when no fairy has done that in ages! Maybe it’s easier for Bloom, but still, Rosalind has loads and loads of lost knowledge. Where did she learn all this?

At any rate Rosalind is responsible for nuking Aster Dell, though how and why that went down is unclear. She nuked a place. And she manipulated her friends into helping without giving them the full story either. They were so upset they locked her up in stasis for sixteen years until Bloom let her out. Dowling calls Rosalind a manipulator several times, and from what we see in the show that’s spot on.

Rosalind is also happy to murderize Dowling to take over the school so they can turn everyone to Sith philosophy.

With these three at the helm Alfea will become a scary place. The baddie adults will be teaching magic fueled by anger and hate. Also, we’ve just had the first fairy transformation in ages. Will the rest of the students be pressured to transform also?

I worry the most about Stella in this situation, her heart’s already fragile after being battered by her mother for years. Stella could just collapse, especially is her mom stays around at the school. Or she could go full Stockholm and embrace the Sith ways. After all, she just tried letting friendship in and THIS happened.

And I worry about Terra, the bravest of the girls and least likely to sit down and shut up for the sake of survival. How much trouble will she get into surrounded by adults acting in bad faith?

Bloom will be Rosalind’s special student, probably under her mentor’s eye the whole time. Wonder how long it’ll take Bloom to have the awful realization that Rosalind is not her friend.

And Musa and Aisha should get a chance to shine as spies. Musa by reading minds to tell which students have accepted the Sith teachings and which have not, and Aisha I hope at least kept the magic thingy that eavesdrops on Dowling’s office. Be nice if Aisha stayed the secretary, but I bet Rosalind puts Bloom in that place.

Beatrix will be official queen bee with her two-dude harem of Riven and Dane. But the three of them could turn out to be a problem, because they’ve all had moments of not-evil. Riven is friends with Sky; what happens when the baddies threaten Sky? Or when Dane gets squeamish? Beatrix is a straight-up true believer in Rosalind and Andreas, but they’ve built that belief by making her desperate to find the truth. What happens when the truth doesn’t match what her idols tell her? Beatrix is everything she is, but she’s got a brain and there are moments when she seems to have a heart for her two fellas.

Our nice adults are in trouble. Ben Harvey is a good dude, but if he tries anything Rosalind can always threaten Sam and Terra, so he’s well and truly pinned.

Silva has been hauled off to a dungeon somewhere! I can guess that Sky and Bloom will launch a rescue mission as soon as Sky works out that his biological father is not a good dude and Silva really was on his side the whole time.

And poor Farah Dowling is dead and buried! Of course that doesn’t necessarily mean we won’t see her again. We don’t know the limits of Dowling’s powers, only that she is very badass indeed, so it seems totally possible that she could heal herself under the ground. Or she could still be alive now, having sent a magical decoy to talk to Rosalind. Dowling’s smart enough not to sit and chat with a magical baddie without taking precautions. But I think it’ll be a tree, just because Faragonda got turned into a tree once. A tree will grow on Dowling’s grave and she’ll step out of it alive.

Oh, and there are a “shit ton” more Burned Ones out there, and they’re ‘nothing compared to what’s coming”. According to Rosalind who knows a lot but lies a lot.

So our heros and heroines need to keep themselves from going to the dark side, protect Stella from her mum, rescue Silva, defeat the worse-than-Burned-Ones and rally their fellow students to kick the baddies out of their school! They have a lot on their plates!

And there will be new characters, at least one. There is no way that Netflix won’t bring a very latina Flora in after the backlash. But is there really a place for her in the story? Terra has a very different personality from Flora, so if they lean on Flora’s “gentle earth mother” side it could be ok. But really the cast doesn’t need another earth fairy. Or, might they kill off Terra? Have her die awesome protecting her father?

A black Tecna would be way more interesting, but I do not think that would appease the fandom since it’s such an obvious pander to the whitewashing accusations. Also, there’s not much emphasis on technology in Fate so there’s really not much place for her either.

I’d rather like to see Ricki come back. Stella’s bestie who Stel accidentally blinded. Is she still blind? Does she know it was an accident? Does she hate Stella now, or did her horrified family forbid her to stay in touch? Has Luna turned her against Stella, just in case the evil queen needs one more way to squeeze trauma-fueled magic out of her daughter? What’s it like being a blind fairy? We don’t know what element Ricki was, so maybe she could do the “see through the ground” thing like Toph, or as a mind fairy see through the eyes of the people around her. Ricki would be interesting! But I bet we never hear of her again.

Possibly I should write… no. Get thee behind me, plotbunnies!

But what do you think? What do you think the baddie adults will do to the school? How do you think the students will react? Do you think Dowling is alive? Who will Netflix add to the cast to try and calm the angry fandom, and who do you wish they would? Are you glad we’re getting a season 2 or would you rather just let this part of Winx Club’s history vanish in the rearview mirror?

#fate the winx saga

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Critters: The Making of a Comedy Horror Cult Classic

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Rupert Harvey knew he was on to something with Critters after one memorable test screening. Specifically, it was the scene where the Critters, who had already been terrorizing the Brown family, were standing on the doorstep of the family’s home talking in their guttural language with subtitles translating for the audience…until one of them is blown to gooey bits by a shotgun blast (wielded by none other than E.T. mom Dee Wallace), and the other lets out a subtitled “Fuck.”

“It totally destroyed the audience,” Harvey recalls. “They just howled. We lost the next scene because they were laughing so hard and I thought: ‘Okay, this is probably going to work.’”

It had already taken a lot of work for Critters to get this far.

Bringing Critters to Life

Released on April 11, 1986, the horror comedy about a small town and farm-dwelling family under attack from little furry space aliens with a taste for human flesh was unfairly dismissed by some as a Gremlins knock-off.

But that did a disservice to the unique tone of Critters; a sci-fi comedy featuring belly laughs alongside genuine moments of terror. A film that owed as much to 1950s sci-fi B-movies as it did anything else, with its tale of picturesque Americana under attack from aliens.

It also overlooks the film’s quirkier narrative aspect like the pair of shapeshifting alien bounty hunters who arrive on Earth to hunt the Critters down, with one of them assuming the form of a popular Jon Bon Jovi-esque rock musician.

This surreal sci-fi tone, coupled with the copious violence, occasional bad language, and general unpredictability of it all helped give Critters the feel of a rebellious younger brother to the more mature Gremlins.

To many, it was the cooler, edgier movie and one that boasted underlying themes that remain universal to this day.

More importantly, the accusation of imitation was incorrect. If the two films were related, it wasn’t by design with screenwriter Brian Dominic Muir first writing the script for Critters back in 1982, two years before Joe Dante’s film hit cinemas.

“I don’t think I saw Gremlins until we were in post-production,” Harvey, who produced Critters and worked on two of its three original sequels, tells Den of Geek. “It was certainly not something we were thinking about very much at the time, if at all.

We were dealing with very different creatures and the fact that they were so different in concept meant I wasn’t terribly bothered by it. Gremlins were these mythical, earthbound, magical beings whereas Critters were extraterrestrial. People who say there are similarities are just influenced by the fact Gremlins was such a huge success, but it was a much bigger budget movie.”

Muir’s script didn’t see the light of day for nearly three years before he showed it to friend and fellow budding filmmaker Stephen Herek who developed it further. That was where Harvey came in.

The three men met while working on Android, a distinctive low budget sci-fi film Harvey was producing alongside independent movie trailblazer Roger Corman.

“Brian gave me Critters to read and l loved it,” Harvey recalls. “It was an archetypal American story about foreigners invading the homeland. It’s quite prescient given the current state of politics in America. There was this quintessentially American setup with this almost pioneering family struggling through adversity to come out the other side.”

35 years on, that notion of protecting the homeland is one Harvey feels is reflected in the inward-looking politics increasingly prominent in America and the UK today. That sentiment was already bubbling under the surface when Critters came out in the Reagan-era of the 1980s.

“It was novel to look at that then through the lens of Critters,” he says. “No one was seeing the film in those terms but that human fear of outsiders coming in has always been there and has been a fundamental part of cinema and drama since forever.”

Harvey agreed to develop the film under his production company, Sho Films. Though he mulled over an offer to produce a low budget version of Critters with Corman, everything changed when Bob Shaye and New Line Cinema came calling.

Writing Critters

“New Line was really a mom-and-pop operation at that point. They hadn’t made A Nightmare on Elm Street yet. They weren’t the New Line of today, but Bob offered to double our budget, so I did the deal.”

Even so, Shaye took some convincing on the choice of director.

Herek would go on to helm Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure, Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead, and a string of big budget Disney movies in the years that followed but had never directed prior to Critters, having previously worked as an editor.

“Stephen, to his credit, even though he had no leverage other than a script we wanted to make, absolutely insisted that nobody would direct it but him and if he didn’t it wouldn’t get made,” Harvey says. “He stuck to his guns and there was never any shift in that position on Brian’s side. I had to convince Bob on several occasions to go ahead with us and, even during production, to actually stick with Steve. But we were all very glad that he did.”

On the writing side, Harvey enlisted Sho Films’ in-house writer Don Opper. A fellow Roger Corman acolyte, Opper had written and starred in Android where he also worked with Herek and Muir.

He was seen as the ideal candidate to work alongside Herek after Muir became unwell.

“Brian, unfortunately, became quite ill not long after we started making Critters,” Harvey says.

Muir was reportedly battling Hodgkin’s disease at the time. Though he recovered, the writer, who often wrote under the pseudonym August White for Full Moon Entertainment later in his career, sadly died from cancer aged 48 in 2010.

“He was a very sweet, nice man,” Harvey recalls. “In Brian’s absence, Don worked with Stephen on polishing the script. One of the ways was to enhance the family and their relationships.”

By then the distinctive looking Opper had also been cast in the pivotal role of Charlie McFadden, the town drunk and a conspiracy theorist convinced the fillings in his teeth are picking up signals from outer space.

Like a cross between Randy Quaid’s deranged pilot from Independence Day and Billy Bob Thornton in Sling Blade, Charlie would eventually emerge as a fan favorite, appearing in each of the three Critters sequels.

He was one of several quirky locals introduced early on in Critters with much of the first third of the film dedicated to establishing the Brown family, their farm, and the characters of the fictional Kansas town of Grover’s Bend where the Critters land.

In one picture postcard scene of the perfect nuclear family, the Browns gather round the breakfast table in a primary colored kitchen, blissfully unaware of the approaching danger and disruption to follow.

That slow build-up may be less commonplace today, but it’s something Harvey believes was crucial to the success of the film.

“That was one of the things that appealed to me about the script,” he says. “If you set that up properly and the audience is in there with you. They gain an understanding of the family dynamic right away and they are engaged. It helps you then feel for each one of them subsequently…The rules are the same, and they have been since the first Greek dramas; storytelling is still about humans and the human condition. Just making stuff about what the monsters are doing has no appeal.”

Critters came during a time when horror comedies were commonplace in multiplexes.

“Studios started to notice in test screenings that the audience response was often bigger when you capped a scare or moment of high tension with a bit of wit or humor,” Harvey explains.

Post-screening surveys bore this out; using humor to emphasize or punctuate a terrifying moment drew a bigger response from the audience. Regardless of the visceral impact of the scare itself. It made it more memorable to viewers.

The Cast of Critters

It helped that Critters boasted an impressive cast to bring the script to life.

Blade Runner’s M. Emmet Walsh appeared as the grouchy local sheriff while Dee Wallace, who had starred in E.T. only a few years earlier, was also convinced to sign on as the Brown family matriarch Helen. Billy “Green” Bush was cast as the hardworking man of the house Jay Brown with Nadine van der Velde as his high school teen daughter April.

Despite some impressive names, Harvey ranks the casting of future Party of Five and ER star Scott Grimes in the role of mischievous central teenage protagonist Brad Brown as the most significant. It’s Scott who first discovers the Critters and Scott that begins to fight back against them using his slingshot and potent firecrackers coming off like a hellish Kevin McCallister from Home Alone.

“Scott was tailor-made for the role,” Harvey says. “He was at the center of the craziness and he had the audience’s sympathy and support because no one was paying attention to him.”

For all the acting talent on display, however, much of the movie’s success rested on the tiny shoulders of a few hedgehog-like puppets.

“The biggest challenge was making the Critters appear to be a viable threat as the antagonists,” Harvey says. “We were really fortunate that we found the Chiodo Brothers.”

A trio of siblings who specialized in stop motion and animatronic work, the Chiodos were relative newcomers to the movie business and would go on to projects like Elf and Team America: World Police.

“We knew from the script we were dealing with a fur ball that got around fast by rolling around and was all teeth and voracious,” Harvey says. “That was the extent of the design parameters. They came up with the drawings and the details as to how they would work.”

Harvey cites the Critters’ distinctive, almost limbless design as both a blessing and a curse.

“From a construction and manipulation point of view, they were relatively straightforward,” he says. “But from an action perspective, there was not a lot you could do with them.”

While other projects, like New Line’s later Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movies, would struggle with glitchy animatronics, there were no such problems with the Chiodos’ creations with each running impressively well thanks to a crack team behind the scenes.

“Even though the Critters were fairly simple creatures, there were times for some of those shots, when we had 10 guys running different cables and things to them to get them right,” Harvey recalls. “They had eye movement, mouth movement, lip movement even their little arms and legs move because these things needed to look as believable as possible. But it was still tough to make these things that rolled around something scary and frightening rather than cute and laughable.”

That was where Billy Zane came in. A good horror villain needs a good victim. Cast in the role of April’s unsuspecting boyfriend Steve Eliot, the then unknown Zane ended up falling afoul of the Critters in arguably the film’s standout gory death after encountering the furry fiends while enjoying a makeout session in the family’s barn.

“It was the first thing he’d ever done. I think he’d arrived in L.A. a week before,” Harvey says, recalling how uncomfortably hot that barn scene was for everyone involved. “It was 100 degrees in the barn. He had little furry creatures stuck to his stomach and was covered in fake blood. It was so hot and sticky. We stayed there for the whole day, getting all the inserts and various other bits and pieces to make the scene…But that setup in the claustrophobic space of the barn helped to make the scene much scarier because we could set it up in a kind of way that made the punchline, the payoff, much more visceral.”

The Bounty Hunters

For all the machinations of the Critters themselves, it’s their pursuers from outer space, the two faceless bounty hunters, who almost steal the show.

Especially after one decides to take the form of fictional hair metal superstar Johnny Steele, the singer of “Power of the Night” a song so pitch-perfectly cheesy, you had to wonder if Steele is a real artist rather than musical theater actor Terrence Mann.

“I went to see Terrence who was appearing in Cats on Broadway. He’d been suggested by a friend and was seriously interested in doing the film,” Harvey says. “We had a friend in New York who was in the music business and had a recording studio. He put together some tracks and we created this imaginary band that he stole the identity of the lead singer from.”

Despite some striking similarities to artists of the time, Harvey insists Johnny Steele wasn’t set up as a deliberate lampooning of any one artist.

“The band was generically inspired by particular bands of the time,” he says. “There wasn’t any one group or individual. We were post punk and before real heavy metal. There was more of a glam goth influence.”

Teaming up with Charlie and Brad, the bounty hunters eventually destroy the Critters though it comes at a cost to the Browns, with the family home blown-up in the process. It was a powerful symbol of the way these invaders had shattered their lives but not their spirit. Unfortunately, New Line Cinema didn’t like it as an ending.

“Bob wanted it changed so that the house was rebuilt in the end but I was against it so we had a few arguments about that, but it was Bob’s money, and we did it and it came out very successfully.”

Shaye and New Line would occasionally prove tricky customers, with Harvey often forced to traverse the familiar pitfalls of independent filmmaking.

“We were in production and things were really tough and there was one point in time when Bob and I sat down in the trailer and he explained to me some things that I won’t go into,” Harvey says. “Things were very tricky for a week or two financially, but they sorted themselves out. That was a typical attribute of an independent movie. ‘Oh God you’re spending $150,000 dollars a day, can you spend $100,000?’. Not unheard of but no fun at the time.”

For all the trials and tribulations of the film, cast, and Critters themselves, however, he has fond memories of working on the film.

“We weren’t stuck in Los Angeles in some smoke-filled space,” he said. “The set was built on Newhall Ranch, this huge bucolic area of land outside of L.A and there we were for five weeks shooting in relatively hot temperatures.”

Critters Sequels and What’s Next

After a quick turnaround in editing, Critters was released in cinemas, proving to be a hit with over $13 million made at the box office off a budget of $3 million. This kind of success made sequels inevitable.

Though Harvey was unavailable for the second film, he returned for the third and fourth movies, which were filmed back-to-back and released direct to video.

“By then video cassettes were a huge component to New Line’s early success and helped finance the Nightmare on Elm Street and Critters sequels and all of the other movies that they then started making in order to become the powerhouse they became,” Harvey says. “I think it funded something like 40 to 40 to 50 percent of New Line production for that period of time.”

Harvey was initially hesitant to get involved, citing Shaye’s wishes to make the sequels for even less money than the first film. However, he ultimately relented after agreeing to film them back-to-back.

Harvey has mixed feelings about the two sequels, particularly the third movie, which he had conceived as being “much darker and much more violent” than what eventually made it to the screen.

“I wanted to do a George Romero homage for the third film,” he says. “I was very much interested in the claustrophobia of the tenement building in New York City, that kind of atmosphere. Boy, did it ever turn out differently.”

Having also agreed to direct the fourth film, which was set in space and wrap up the franchise, he found himself too busy to oversee work on the third movie.

“It was different. I didn’t have as much to do with Critters 3 because I was directing the fourth film. We were shooting back to back. We had a week down in between the two. All the time we were shooting Critters 3 I was prepping Critters 4.”

While the fourth film featured both a young Angela Bassett and Brad Dourif on top scene-chewing form, the third entry has become among the most noted in the years since thanks to the presence of a young Leonardo DiCaprio in the main role.

“It’s the movie that shall remain nameless on Leo DiCaprio’s resume,” Harvey jokes.

He doesn’t have a lot of memories about DiCaprio on set though there was already a sense he was destined for big things.

“One day he told me he needed some time off. He had to go and audition for this movie. After he came back I asked ‘How did it go?’ and he said ‘Robert De Niro is really great’. he’d been off auditioning for This Boy’s Life…And of course, when he did that movie, it was like, ‘Holy shit. Well, where was that actor when we were making Critters 3?’”

While Leo is unlikely to return to the Critters franchise anytime soon, Harvey, who had no involvement in a recent TV revival, believes that there is life in the old furballs yet.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

“It’s not a franchise that’s going to go away,” he says cryptically. “Whatever comes next needs to be something that is responsive to contemporary sources. I can’t really say too much about it, because nothing is final. All I can tell you is that I don’t think this is the end.”

The post Critters: The Making of a Comedy Horror Cult Classic appeared first on Den of Geek.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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nextgenfairytale · 4 years

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Arnold & Helga’s quarantine letters by Craig Bartlett

"Dear Helga, Day 33 of the quarantine. Going a little crazy. Thank goodness for Abner, who isn’t bothered, just seems glad that I’m around all day! Love, Arnold." "Dear Football Head, Imagine my surprise when Harvey delivered your letter this morning. In case you haven’t noticed, Einstein, there’s been a little invention called the smart phone, and I’m available by text. But I enjoyed writing this reply in an old-fashioned letter, because as you know I like to write, and it gives me the chance to go outside to mail it, and snoop around the neighborhood a little. So thanks for cheering me up, Hair Boy. From Helga. No, scratch that... Love Helga." "Dear Helga, Day 39, and I’m feeling it. It’s kind of an out-of-body experience. Grandma keeps telling me to Look Up, and Grandpa randomly comes upstairs to tell late-night ghost stories. Thanks for writing back, I never thought I’d miss hearing you call me Football Head, but these are strange days. I miss you. Love, Arnold. #stayhome" "Dear Football Head, I was minding my own business on some random sidewalk when Harvey stopped and pulled another letter from you out of his bag, like he’s Santa Claus now. And not like it’s any of your business, but I’m fine, stuck here with the Patakis for the duration. Olga’s acting career is on lockdown so she has to perform for us, going from Little Miss Sunshine to Mozart’s Requiem in 30 seconds flat. I’m mostly in my room, running out of stuff to read, so I was actually pretty glad to hear from you, Arnoldo. I could use some of your blind optimism. Write me some more, okay? Love, Helga.” "Dear Helga, Day 49 since we could just go to Slausen’s and get an ice cream. I’m spending even more time in my room — Grandpa started a game of Risk downstairs and it’s gone on for days. Things are getting surreal up here. The colors keep changing. I find myself asking questions like, where did Grandma find this carpet? I finally fall asleep and dream of flying, and then Nocturnal Ned wakes me at 7:00 and I count how many days it’s been. Thanks for the song dedications, by the way, they’re always spot on. But do they always have to be “from Helga who hates you”? And thanks for writing back, I really enjoy your letters. Love, Arnold." "Dear Football Head, Harvey came to the door waving another letter from you like I’d been waiting for it or something. The nerve of that guy. I told him I’d been out, staring at clouds and trying to see shapes in them like you do, and normally I could make fun of you and call you dorkwad or yutz or paste-for-brains, but you weren’t there. So I returned to Casa Pataki, where nothing changes: Bob’s on his phone straight through dinner, Miriam stares a hole in her blender like to smoothie or not to smoothie? And if Olga reminds me to wash my dirty little hands one me time I’ll wring her scrawny neck. Back to the magnificent solace of my room where I can write you back, as you requested. So don’t say I never did anything for you, Hair Boy. And please write back. Love, Helga." "Dear Helga, Day 58 of this thing. How could the days go by so fast and then just stand there? I’m in my room trying to make the walls go away. When I fall asleep, all I do is dream. I know it’s boring to read about other people’s dreams, but I had a dream about you. You were trying to tell me something, but I couldn’t hear what you were saying. You were smiling, though, so it was something good. I went out walking today, and Harvey asked me if I had any mail for him. I said, isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? I think he’s on to us, Helga. But please write back. Love, Arnold." "Dear Football Head, you’re right about Harvey. He came sauntering up, made a big show of going through his bag looking for your letter, humming some stinkin’ love song. I told him I don’t have all day, what does he think, I just pace around in front of the house waiting to hear about a certain Hair-Boy’s dumb dreams? And speaking of which, I’ve been having some doozies. Last night you came out of this spooky fog and I was trying to tell you something important, and you turned into Arnie. Then I realized that I was a monkey. Well, a monkey-girl. Anyway it’s nice to get these letters. I don’t mind reading about your dreams as long as they’re about me. Keep it up, Arnoldo. Dream about the day we can go out for ice cream. I’ve got a thing or two I’d like to say over a banana split. Which you are paying for, Bucko. Just kidding, we can split it. Love, Helga." "Dear Helga, Day 70 of this craziness. I tried sleeping on my couch to see if I would maybe dream less, but nope. Here’s one: we were up in Mighty Pete, and you said follow me down, Arnoldo, and then you were gone, and then the whole tree was gone. I was a little gloomy at breakfast, probably because it was chickpea pancakes (Dad’s still grinding his own flour substitutes). Grandma and Grandpa tried to cheer me up, but you know what? All I wanted was another letter from you. I went down to wait for Harvey, and he comes dancing up, and even with his mask on he was singing, “You’ll never find... someone who cares about you! Like sheeee does” and I’m like “C’mon Harvey, just give me the letter please.” Anyway thanks for writing back. These letters are giving me life. And yes, I will love to meet you at Slausen’s for a banana split, and I don’t care who pays. That will be a great day. Love, Arnold." "Dear Football Head, Ha! Think you’re dreaming a lot? Even if I tell you just my dreams that you starred in I’ll be writing letters for years, or at least till this quarantine is over. Okay, last night I fell asleep reading Ulysses, which always puts me right out, and then I was wandering in that Dali painting with all the melted clocks. And I’m yelling, okay I know time seems to be stretching these days but this is ridiculous! And then you float up in adorable cherub mode. I call out, “Hey! Arnoldo! When will the quarantine end?” And you say, “I know you want to come up, Helga, but we have to wait until Mayor Dixie says it’s okay.” And then I run and run up a bunch of stairs and into my room and slam the door, and then I notice it’s YOUR room! Heh-heh, not like I know what the inside of your room looks like, Hair Boy. Anyway thanks for writing. Harvey brought your latest and I practically tackled him to get it. I think he’s enjoying being the lockdown mailman a little too much. More dreams, please! Love, Helga." "Dear Helga, Day 82 and now we have a curfew on top of a quarantine, which is like stay home squared. I’m dreaming of the day we get our city back. Speaking of which, last night I dreamed you were a 100-foot tall giant running across our neighborhood, and I was trying to catch you, and realized I was a giant too, and was immediately terrified I was gonna step on someone. I hear a crunching sound and then a tiny car alarm and I yell, “Helga! Slow down, we’re gonna knock down the neighborhood!” And you turn around and grab the top off a building and say “Don’t worry Arnoldo, it’s cake!” And I can see it’s chocolate, with candles on it. And I’m, “But your birthday was the end of March!” And you’re all pleased, “Arnold! You remembered!” And then you explain how time is all stretchy these days so March, June, who cares? “I say it’s my birthday, Football Head.” And then you throw the cake at me and now it’s a food fight, and I wake up to the smell of Dad burning a cake made out of what turns out to be Amaranth flour, whatever that is. So happy birthday, Helga! I miss you. A lot. Write back, please. Love, Arnold." "Dear Football Head, I was out at my little spot where I like to, y’know, think, and Harvey came sauntering up like he knew I’d be there. “No letter today, Helga, but you won’t believe whose door I saw open. Slausen’s!” And my eyes bug and I say, “Hey! You’re supposed to DELIVER my mail, not read it!” And he starts dancing really annoyingly, “It’s gonna open, Mayor Dixie’s gonna call it! Soon!” And off he goes, singing “Someone who cares about you! Like heeee does!” I, uh, assume he’s referring to you, Arnoldo? Heh-heh. So I mosey home and wake Big Bob up and make him drive me over there. And Harvey wasn’t kidding, the lights are on and the sign on the door says opening soon, just waiting for Dixie to announce the next phase of opening the city! “Soon,” Hair Boy! Soon!! Are we still on for splitting that banana split? I await your reply very calmly. Love, Helga."

"Dear Helga, I just saw Mayor Dixie make the announcement on TV. Phase one of opening the city starts on Saturday! Restaurants can open! That means Slausen’s! I yelped them, they’re gonna open Saturday at noon! I’ll make this letter short — I ran up to the roof and I could see Harvey coming down the block! He waved, though, something tells me he’ll wait. Now I’m tearing up my room looking for a stamp. Okay! See you Saturday? Noon? Slausen’s! Banana split! Love, Arnold."

"Dear Arnold, The Rockies may crumble, Gibraltar may tumble, They’re only made of clay. But come Hell or high tide, Headless Cabbie or Ghost Bride, I will meet you on Saturday. Love, Helga."

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