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prettyyoungandbored · 3 years

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Becoming Mrs. Wayne [The Dark Knight] Nine

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: None

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

Bruce’s fingers ran through Demetria’s black hair, tucking a strand behind her ear before his fingers slid softly down her jawline.

She was fast asleep, her head resting on his chest, their legs intertwined. Her breathing was gentle, heart beating slowly against his. Her jacket was draped over her like a blanket. His arms wrapped around her protectively.

After having their way with each other, they’d put their clothes back on with the intention of driving back home, but exhaustion overwhelmed them and instead they opted for sleeping on the floor.

Bruce felt relief wash over him, knowing that he didn’t have to hide from her nor did he lose her in the process. His eyes fell to her stitch on her forearm. The scar would forever be a reminder of his carelessness and he would never forgive himself for as long as lived.

Her eyes fluttered open, a tired smile forming on her lips.

“Morning,” she mumbled, nestling her head closer to him as she basked in the warmth of his body.

He kissed the top of her head, pulling her close to him. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore, but nothing some asprin can’t fix.”

“I have a bottle in the top right drawer. I also have aftercare stuff for stitches in my desk if you need it. I’ve had to stitch myself multiple times.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “You do it yourself?”

“Alfred helps.”

She hummed. “I’m getting you a blanket to keep in here. Maybe a pillow too.”

He chuckled, his lips hovering over the top of her head. “I don’t need it.”

She lifted her head. “But I might.”

“Who says I’ll allow you back in here?” he teased.

“I can make myself very useful to you.”

“You’re always useful to me.”

She rolled her eyes, lying her head back down. “You know what I mean.”

His fingers circled her back as he rested his chin on top of her head. “Dem?”

“Yea?”

“Are all your panic attacks like that?”

She glanced up. “Like what?”

“Like how it was last night?”

She shook her head. “I’ve never had one that intense before. They vary in severity, but usually it’s manageable.”

He closed his eyes, cursing himself even more. He knew he should’ve been there. “What can I do for you when you have them?”

“Just ask me what I need,” she shrugged. “I’ll usually tell you if I want you there or if I want space.”

“You promise?”

“I do.” Her fingers reached toward his hair, running through it. “I appreciate you asking.”

She pecked his lips before stretching her arms carefully, aware of the stitch on her arm. “How the hell did we fall asleep on the floor?”

“I think we were both just were too tired to care.”

She got up, helping Bruce up off the ground. She threw on her jacket. “By the way, how the hell did you and Rachel survive that fall?”

He chuckled. “I’ve jumped off higher buildings. That was nothing.”

She cocked her head. “You live in a penthouse.”

“When you’ve been at it for as long as I have, you get used to it.”

“So you’re not going to tell me?”

He smirked, resting his hands on her forearms. “I don’t want you jumping off buildings.”

She scoffed playfully. “Fine, keep your secrets.” Then it dawned on her. “Speaking of which, does she know?”

“Rachel? Yeah, she does.”

“Anyone else?”

“Lucius Fox. He helps come up with the tools and the Batsuit. All this you see in here is his handy work. As for Rachel, I rescued her a long time ago.”

Demetria nodded understandingly. Bruce put his hands on her hips, pulling her close to him. “I should’ve told you sooner. I just wanted to protect you.”

She gently grabbed his hands. “Be honest with me here, were you really ever going to tell me?”

“I was hoping I could step down before we got married so that I could tell you when it was over so you wouldn’t worry. I realize now how foolish that was.” He paused. “I threw the fundraiser for Harvey because I believe he’s what Gotham needs and deserves. He’s better than Batman. I want him to continue so that the Batman can leave and I can begin my life with you.”

She couldn’t bring herself to be too mad at him, realizing his intentions were nothing but good. She also cursed herself for ever doubting him.

“Well first, know that the right time to tell me anything is when it happens,” she told him. “Second, don’t get me wrong, what Harvey’s done for the city is great but he’s not you. You should be proud for what you’ve done for the city.” She pressed the palm of her hand against his cheek. “I want you to know that if you don’t want to give up Batman, that’s ok. If you feel like you’re done, then that’s ok too. What I don’t want is to be the reason behind your decision.”

He shook his head. “You’re always my reason. Demetria, you’re everything to me.”

Her lips curved into a small grateful smile. “Just know I’m here and I’m proud of you and that you’ll always be my hero.”

‘I’m proud of you.’ Four words filled him with a sense of security he hadn’t felt in a long time. No, he never searched for glory or praise when it came to his Batman or personal duties, but Demetria’s support meant the absolute world to him. He knew his luck and he’d be damned if he pushed it any further.

“I love you,” he mumbled, his thumb wiping her bottom lip.

Her hands moved to wrap around the back of his neck and his hands wrapped her cheeks. “I love you too.”

He leaned forward, his breath hitting her lips for a moment before his lips brushed up against hers.

His kiss was gentle, but with meaning, just like his declaration. If both had their choice in life, they would choose to stay in the moment forever. To stay trapped in the most meaningful kiss that made the world and its problems around them disappear.

Demetria slowly pulled back and rest her head on his chest as his hand rubbed her back. Her eyes shifted over to the computer screens, curiosity filling her eyes.

“So what exactly is this for?” she questioned, motioning her head toward it.

Bruce looked at the computers. “Helps with tracking.”

“Tracking what?”

“Anything and everything.”

She turned her head to him. “Including me?”

His hands were shoved in his pockets, slight embarrassment painting his expression. “Two times. Tops.”

She leaned forward, a playful smirk on her lips. “You’ve spied on me twice? When?”

“First time was the anthrax scare.”

“And the other?

“Huge drug deal happening in the basement of your apartment building.

She hummed, the memory coming back to her. “Ah, yeah. That was a fun time.” Her eyes then widened. “Wait a minute. You called me that night...and you...you asked-.”

“For you to spend the night,” he finished. He nodded. “I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“So that's why you made me stay at your place for the entire weekend?”

He cracked a smile. “Made you? I seem to recall you not fighting me on it.”

“I just thought you were needy.” She looked back over at the computers. “Would you teach me how to use the system?”

“Why?”

“I want to help you.”

His smile faded. “Demetria, I told you I don’t-.”

“I’m already involved, Bruce. Besides, I’ll stay in here and this is a safe enough space for me. Plus, I worked in journalism. I know how to dig deep and find out things.”

“I thought your job was to get people on shows?”

“We had to do background checks and in-depth research.” She put her hands on his shoulders. “Look, I can’t jump off buildings or fight, but I can help with hacking and with research and that’s just as useful to your work as the physical stuff is. Think of it as me

Bruce couldn’t bring himself to fight her. She’d had a point - she was already involved. She was also helpful with the tip from last night. Maybe she could be an asset.

“How do you know to hack?” he questioned, cracking a tiny smile.

“I know people,” she shrugged casually.

He shook his head. “We’ll try it on a trial basis.”

She perked up, her smile widening. “I promise I won’t disappoint.”

“I see you now know our little secret, Miss Gallagher.”

Demetria and Bruce looked over to see Alfred carrying two to-go coffee cups. He made his way to the couple, offering the first cup to Demetria.

“You’re a lifesaver, again,” Demetria thanked him as she took the coffee. She took a sip, the taste of caffeine, half-and-half, and sugar welcoming her.

She watched as Alfred set down the other cup on the desk as Bruce turned the computer systems. Suddenly, the pitch black screens turned to looped videos of The Joker. From security cam footage to his video from yesterday, his presence graced the screen and caused shivers to go down Demetria’s spine.

The memory of the way The Joker’s eyes pierced in to her in the moments before he slashed her flashed in her head. She exhaled, shaking it off so Bruce wouldn’t see.

Just when a distraction was needed, her phone rang. She dug into her jacket pocket to find it was her mom calling.

“Oh shit,” she mumbled.

She walked to the other side of the Bat Cave and pressed the green button. “Hey Mom.”

“Thank god you’re alright! I had Henry calling me at midnight in hysterics, saying you were attacked and hospitalized - I could barely sleep last night!”

“I know I should’ve called-.”

“Thank god for Alfred! Alfred called me from the hospital to keep me and Henry updated. He even called this morning to say you were sleeping in and that he and Bruce had you taken care of.”

Demetria made a mental note to thank him for keeping her mother at bay.

“And Bruce! My god, the poor thing!” her mother went on. “I mean, he got lucky he was only locked in the closet, but it could’ve been so much worse. Thank god the rat guy came in when he did.”

“His name is Batman, Mom.”

“ I called Harvey to check on him and he said Rachel was attacked too?”

“Yeah, The Joker threw her out the window-.”

“Oh my god! Oh my god!”

“Mom, she’s fine. Batman saved her.”

She leaned her head back, closing her eyes. This was the absolute last thing she needed.

“That’s it! I’m coming in tonight.”

Demetria’s eyes widened. “Absolutely not! You are not coming to Gotham!”

“Demetria, do not fight me on this!”

“Mom, I need you to stay where you are. Now is not the time to come here.”

“I need you to be safe.”

“I am safe. They’re increasing security at Bruce’s place as we speak.”

“What about Harvey?”

“He’s untouchable. He’s going to be fine.”

Her mother sighed in defeat. “Alright, but I want a phone call everyday. You hear me?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“And if this continues, I want you, Bruce, and Alfred on your way here or I’m coming in.”

“Fair enough. I promise everything’s gonna be ok. Just do me a favor and keep Henry calm and updated. I’ll call him later.”

“I will. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Demetria hung up, shoving the phone back into her pocket. She made her way back to Bruce and Alfred who were staring at the monitors.

“Targeting me won’t get their money back,” Bruce said, his eyes glued to The Joker’s face on screen. “I knew the mob wouldn’t go down without a fight, but this feels different. They’ve crossed a line.”

“You crossed a line first, sir,” Alfred pointed out. “You squeezed them, you hammered them to the point of desperation and in their desperation, they turned to a man they didn’t fully understand.”

Bruce turned away from the monitors. “Well, criminals aren’t complicated, Alfred. We just need to figure out what he’s after.”

The case that held his Batsuit rose from the ground as Bruce stared at it.

“With respect Master Wayne, perhaps this is a man you don't fully understand either,” Alfred suggested. He made his way toward Bruce, Demetria watching him. “A long time ago, I was in Burma, my friends and I were working for the local government. They were trying to buy the loyalty of the tribal leaders by bribing them with precious stones. But their caravans were being raided in a forest north of Rangoon by a bandit. So we went looking for the stones. But in six months, we never met anyone who traded with him.One day I saw a child playing with a ruby the size of a tangerine. The bandit had been throwing them away. “So why steal them?” Bruce asked with a slight shrug.

“Because he thought it was good sport. Because some men aren't looking for anything logical, like money. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn.”

As Alfred walked away, Bruce and Demetria looked up at the screen at the Joker’s face.

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

Back at the penthouse, Demetria sat in the living room watching GCN’s coverage of the deaths of Police Commissioner Gillian B. Loeb and Judge Janet Surillo. Both were murdered - one poisoned, the other blown up in her own car. Both deaths were believed to have been conducted by The Joker and by the city’s mobs.

She couldn’t help but wonder if what had happened to her last night was premeditated. One of the henchmen singled her out to The Joker, referring to her simply as “her.” Perhaps she was on the list for round one of victims.

It dawned on her that by confirming her friendship with Harvey in her editorial, she set herself up to be a target.

She shut off the TV and began pacing the room. What if the orphanage was next or GCN? What if they were going to blow up her old apartment building with everyone in it? What if they were going to try again?

She cursed herself for writing that damn thing. If only she had just let it go, she wouldn’t have gotten herself involved.

She ran her hand through her hair, when she turned her head over to see her laptop.

That’s when she thanked God she was smart enough to befriend some of the IT people and researchers at GCN.

She grabbed her cell phone and went through her contacts, before finding the name she needed. She dialed the number.

“Harvey, are you at the office?”

“Yeah, is everything ok? Are you alright?”

“Is Grace at the office?”

“Of course.”

“I need you to let go on an errand for me.”

*********************************************************************************

That night in the Batcave, as Bruce suited up in his Batman outfit, Demetria sat at the desk setting up her new laptop.

“And what exactly did you tell Harvey you needed a new laptop for?”

“I spilled water on mine,” she answered, her eyes not leaving the computer. She clicked a key. “There we go! Now if you need me to hack into a place, I’m ready to go. I’m also logged into the scanner and can hear everything, but that’s not as fun.”

“How do you know which security cameras the buildings use?”

“Most places have the same system,” Demetria explained. “At least that’s what I was taught.”

“Looks like I wasn’t the only one keeping secrets,” Bruce noted.

She furrowed her eyebrows. “There’s a difference between my limited knowledge of hacking and you being Batman.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Are you going to be ok in here?”

“I have a blanket and pillow and I’m wearing my favorite sweatpants so I would say so.” She eyed his computers. “I’m still working on figuring out those systems but I should be ok.”

His hand touched her cheek. “It won’t always be like this. Soon, you’ll have me all to yourself in bed all night.”

“And I cannot wait, but for now, focus on getting home safe and without a scratch.”

“For you, absolutely.”

He put on his cowl when Demetria said,” “Scanner is already reporting a shooting at West Point apartment on 78th. Gotham PD is on their way. Checking for security footage now to see if it’s the Joker.” She looked over her shoulder. “Better move along.”

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

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crab-in-a-pocket · 3 years

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reserved farmer headcanons + meeting the bachelors for the first time!

wanted to make some generally reserved farmer headcanons to kick off this blog and bc i see a lot of very friendly farmers out there and i... am not one of them LMAO

additionally, there's reference to a supposed volatile relationship with a (former?) loved one (projection time!)

also i forgot to open my askbox bc idk how to tumblr ?? i think it's open now (i hope).

tw: drinking and alcoholism, references to past trauma, one Bad Word (sh^t!)

when you first meet everyone, it's a quiet greeting and maybe a witty remark, but you don't stay for any chit-chat

close-lipped smiles are your signature move, along with the Man Nod whenever you run into someone

you are, of course, a nice and courteous person but you don't feel the need to say hello to everyone every damn time you pass by them because, really, you're too busy rushing to Pierre's for some seeds or lugging around foraged beach stuff

okay, maybe some of them think you're a little cold and an introvert who has... problems

but you're not! you are a strong and emotionally stable farmer who gets Shit Done and prefers to observe over participate and think over talk!

mayor lewis is extremely puzzled and almost mistakes you for someone else-- it's been over a decade and people change too much, too soon. he makes a remark about a wishing well your grandfather had built long ago (remember the well? how you fell in it that one time?) and you nod along politely (i didn't fall, i climbed in because i desperately needed my wish to come true)

it's nice to meet people who aren't as temperemental as the tides. maybe, for once, you could have a proper relationship with someone.

alex

easily the most annoying and extroverted person in town what with his obsession with sports and loud, brash personality but you two get along fabulously because you had that same passion for gridball in college before you were too busy being a corporate slave

he's a little surprised that you sit next to him at the saloon but he goes along easily and the conversation flows between the two of you easily, ranging from future plans (thinking of going pro... think i'll make it?) to the weather without sounding like you're making fake smalltalk (i wanted to play pro, too, and here i am now. if you really want it, you'll have to leave this all behind)

there's something genuine about him that's intriguing and it leaves you wanting to find out and see what the real alex is like inside because you can see through that wall he's made

and there's something enigmatic about you, who is reserved and quiet and seems to be a simple open book, when in fact, you are a very attractive onion with many, many layers

sam

you think he's immature. a wildchild, a manchild, a wildmanchild, really. sam, on the other hand, is drawn in by your calmness and how in-control you appear to be-- when you offer to play a game of pool when sebastian doesn't show up, he's delighted at the opportunity to know you better

okay, so he is immature and a wildmanchild but there is a softness in him that surprises you every time he shows it-- which is frequently around you

he has a soft smile to counteract his proud one and he's so in awe of how you get so much stuff done every day (i don't know how you do it, that's gotta be tough), every week, and every month (you'd like the responsibility, i think. to me, it's one big project i need to finish)

he has instant crush on you because you're so cool even though your line of profession really doesn't evoke much awe. i mean, you're attractive, you are so in control of your life, and you have a really cute smile whenever he compliments you-- how could he not?

shane

bit bold of you to sit next to him at the saloon because every knows he's can be a real asshole, but he glances at you with a hint of awe and more than a hint of annoyance. you elect to ignore this and choose to order a whisky on the rocks (if you don't drink, call it apple juice)

whisky: shane's a touch impressed because you look like a lightweight. well, it's nice that someone can hold their liquor. he makes a remark about it (planning on getting drunk, huh?) and you raise a brow at him, looking a little haughty and tell him that it's your drink for the week. he's annoyed at your remark and starts an argument that surprisingly, settles down into a civil conversation

apple juice: he snorts at that and makes a remark about meeting penny for your lessons the next day. you play along and sip at your drink, making witty remarks (thank yoba for hangovers. it's the non-drinker's edge, really. just like not having liver failure). he's not sure if he should be annoyed or impressed at your cool-as-a-cucumber personality, not sure if it's too big city or too closed-off

you offer to buy him a pizza if you can take a away his beer-- at any rate, he looks like he'll end up with liver failure the way he's going. shane aquiesces and devours the entire pizza. your conversation is slow and punctuated with his loud chewing but you're pleasantly suprised that he's quite smart and well-read about whatever you're interested in

the fourth time you sit next to him, he turns down your pizza and doesn't say a word. neither do you and it's almost like it's back to square one until you realize that he hasn't made a single salty remark about anything. you decide to try again the day after tomorrow-- nothing comes too quickly to people like you and shane.

sebastian

it was the necklace you wore that caught his eye. a shining teardrop stone hanging off a gleaming silver chain. he had spoken before he could stop himself and watched as you smiled and told him he was right-- it is supposed to be a Yeti's tear.

you're pleased to meet someone who is also a homebody and a touch more reserved than a lot of other people in town. he's easy to get along with (oh, you're kidding, you really have the signed edition?) and he's got pretty good taste when it comes to literature-- after all, who can refuse a good sci-fi book? (of course i do, i'm dedicated fan)

oddly enough, your conversation is quick and eager and not all reserved. instead of the companionable silence everyone assumes you two to have, you two nearly talk over each other because you finally have someone to complain to about everyone's over-friendliness and he finally has someone who understands what it's like to be trapped in a small world

you tease him about the corporate rat race and he fires back at you about being a part of it. you like sebastian and he likes you-- it's as simple as that.

elliot

he had heard of you through leah who had heard of you through emily who had heard of you through gus who had heard of you from lewis. it was a long grapevine and he's not sure how much of the truth was preserved and it's almost a relief to meet you because, to be frank, he's tired of being the town's newcomer.

first-- you're not peppy and overly cheerful at all. second, you are definitely not hot-tempered. and third, there's something so fascinating about you, something hidden under your calm, pragmatic character. he finds a kindred spirit in you, save for the flowery words and, admittedly, the vanity.

you're amused to meet a writer living on the beach. the cabin was built by one of your grandfather's old friends, a rather surly man who had taken a liking to you when you were much younger. while the hut is in no way fancy, you can't help but consider how pretentious and, contrastingly, humble the writer must be. pretentious in such a way that he thinks living in a sandy, damp shack is a way to beat writer's block (it's odd, it's rarely a choice people make) and humble in such a way that he accepts and bears with living in a worn house with little complaint (it's admirable, if not a little silly!)

you find yourself in his company late at night when you can't sleep and it's so easy to open up to him because he's kind, he listens, and most importantly, he's not embarassed to admit he's got faults, at least to you. you let him see past your collected facade and into your cracked heart far sooner than you think and elliot doesn't mind at all

harvey

you might be the most mysterious person in town simply because of the way you present yourself. he finds himself always stuttering a little whenever you're around because of the way you watch him, set in a relaxed stance, your gaze flat and cool. later, he realizes that it's your resting face. he wonders about what you'd look like if you smiled-- really smiled

he's touched at the fact that you buy him coffee whenever he had to patch you up-- which is frequently, given your liking for the mines. you're adorable when he gives you general anesthesia. he had run out of local anesthesia and you needed a fair amount of stitches and though you told him that you have a high pain tolerance (stitches are far more painful than you think. i really don't want to put you through that), he insisted and you let him (fine, fine. get on with it, doctor). you had let out several inappropriate jokes under anesthesia and your cheeks had hurt from laughing non-stop

harvey's entranced. there's no other way to put it-- he's bewitched by your bright character hiding under that collected facade. he never pries for your secrets because he's got secrets, too. you like harvey because he's sweet and compassionate and even though he has to put up a firm, professional affectation, he wears his heart on his sleeve.

you see him as a friend at first, all platonic and it seems to be the end of it. but one day, as you hand him a coffee, he laughs and smiles and hands you a coffee just the way you like it. you're falling for him so hard and fast you think someone's put a spell on you that makes you notice the minute expressions on his face and mull over the way he talks to you. you're in love with him-- you can only hope he feels the same way too

#stardew elliott #stardew harvey #stardew sam #stardew shane #stardew alex #stardew sebastian #stardew headcanon #stardew farmer #sdv hcs #sdv headcanons #sdv sebastian #sdv elliott #sdv harvey #sdv sam #sdv alex #sdv shane #sdv reserved farmer #sdv farmer #my phone hates me but here :D

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nocturnaldivinationsfallingstars · 3 years

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A Stray Bullet Part 4

Fandom: Gotham Characters: Victor Zsasz, female!reader, James Gordon, Harvey Bullock and a doctor. Warnings: Mentions of blood, swearing Summary: The reader is James Gordon’s sister and works for the GCPD and is dating Victor Zsasz. The reader has kept it a secret from her brother, until one day when she takes a bullet that was meant for him. Victor then shows up at James’ place to see the reader. Word count: 4121 A/N: I am sorry this one took a while, but I had to take a couple of days off for emotional needs.

The car ride to the apartment that James shared with his sort of, maybe girlfriend Barbara Kean had been a rocky and silent one. You had been jolted all over the car, into the back doors and nearly through the front windscreen a couple of times to name a few. You had hit your side with the bullet wound against the door, even though you had tried your best to make the impact a lot less rough on your already traumatised body. You were sure that you would still end up with a bruise. Either way, you blacked out near the end of the ride from both exhaustion and pain, only to have your brother nudge you awake.

Each time your body hit one of the doors or the front seats you could hear James mutter out a not so heartfelt apology under his breath. All you could manage from your place in the back was a pain grunt or two to let him know that you're semi-okay, although right now you felt as if you wanted to be sick from being jostled around. It didn't take much longer before James parked your car in the middle of the road outside his apartment complex.

Once James had cut the engine, he unbuckled the seatbelt and yanked the back door open, hauling you out of the back while keeping an iron grip around you as he closed the doors and locked the car. “Okay, just a bit further,” he urged, leading you up the steps towards the open glass doors that led to the fancy lobby, receiving looks of concern from some residents that stood around the spacious area. All of them watching with mixed looks of horror and surprise as drops of blood fell to the shiny marble floor beneath your feet. None of them made a move to help or even ask what happened to you or James, just simply stood there and watched as he struggled to drag you to the closed doors of the elevator.

It wasn't like you could blame any of them for keeping their distance and their mouths shut around you and James, what with the given state of Gotham and the recent rise in crime lately. The fact that almost every criminal could get away with damn near anything and everything they do. You wouldn't want to be added onto someone's hit list for simply asking people a question on why they're bleeding all over the lobby floor of your home.

“How are you doing?” James suddenly asked, pulling you away from your thoughts. The doors to the elevators opened you stumbled on your way. Jim pressed the button to the floor of his apartment as he let out a sigh, still holding onto you tightly. You didn't answer him As you were too busy using the rest of your energy to keep yourself standing.

“Hey, hey, [Y/N]. How are you doing?” He asked you again and helped you into the large room once the doors to the elevator slid open. Of course, you still had to make your way through the hallway and to the door, which he then had to unlock. James pushed the door open, and you followed his dark brown eyes as they scanned the spacious living space before you, like he was expecting someone to be there in the darkness, waiting for an opportune time to attack and finish the job. Out the corner of your eyes you noticed that he gave a nod of his head, confirming that it was safe to go inside his own apartment.

“Peachy… Just — Just peachy,” you breathed out through the nauseous feeling that twisted painfully in the pit of your stomach. You felt sweaty and had a mild headache forming at the back of your head, most likely from the blood loss. Back in the car you noticed that you had started to feel dizzy, although you didn't voice your concern to your brother, it would only make him worry more and become more protective. He was probably already panicking internally enough as it is.

You squeezed your eyes shut tightly and willed yourself to not give into the urge to let gravity claim you and fall to the floor, where if you had your way, you'd stay until you felt better or bleed to death. The latter sounding like a better option to you right now since you didn't want to have a conversation about Victor with your brother. "You don't look so good," James told you, his voice sounded quiet to your ears even though he stood beside you. "You look clammy, and you're sweating," he muttered out. All you managed was a short pain filled laugh. It wasn't funny, you knew it wasn't, but you couldn't keep it in.

"That uh, yeah, that usually happens when someone loses a lot of blood." You croaked out snarkily, trying to lighten the heavy air that settled around you. You swallowed hard, your throat feeling unusually dry.

"You know, she's exactly like you. She can't read a room and her humour is terrible." The familiar gruff sound of Harvey Bullock’s voice sounded out. James scoffed at that, but your lips twitched up at the corners in amusement. You had to force your eyes open. It didn't take too long for your eyes to fall upon the scruffy detective, his hat discarded on the coffee table beside him.

"Well, if it isn't Harvey Bullock." You didn't think Harvey would help if James had asked him to, considering he nearly throttled James into the ground of the men's locker room back in the GCPD a couple of days ago because your brother decided it was a good idea to let Oswald Cobblepot live. You wondered when James had the time to call Harvey. Was it when you had been blacked out in the back of your car? Or was it sometime before then, but you hadn't noticed? It couldn’t have been before you blacked out, you would have remembered the trilling conversation that must have transpired over the phone otherwise.

A woman with long dark brown hair stood a few meters away from Harvey, a look of concern written clear as day across her features. You assumed she was a doctor, and you sure as hell hoped that she was in fact a certified doctor and not just some shady person that Harvey knows. "How're you doing darling?" He asked you, his voice warmer than it was when he previously spoke to James. He must still hold some resentment to his partner for his lie.

"Oh, you know... not bad, bleeding out, and I want to sleep. But not bad." You responded, as if on cue your eyes slid shut, almost like you had commanded it. "Please for the love of... just tell me that she is a certified doctor," you whispered to your brother as quietly as you could manage.

A whine left you as you opened your eyes once more, still trying to fight back the sleep that was threatening to take you to the black abyss behind your eyes. "They are someone that Harvey knows," he flashed an awkward side smile in your direction to let you know that he is indeed being serious about it.

Blinking at him, you took a minute to process what he had just told you, your eyes scanned his features for the telltale signs of a lie, or at least any signs to indicate that he's joking. Waiting for him to keep talking and tell you that Harvey did in fact call someone who knew a doctor who could do an urgent house call at such short notice and wouldn't ask questions about it. But there was that nervous tick, it was faint but noticeable.

"Oh no. No, no, and no," you started quickly and shook your head, removing your arm from around his back and placed the palm of your hand against his shoulder, pushing yourself away from him. Stumbling to the side you somehow managed to get yourself free from James's iron grip. "I know exactly what that means. If I wanted someone who is medically uncertified to root around my insides to get a damn bullet out, then I would have asked you or Harvey to do it for me." James shot a hand out towards you with lightning fast reflexes, his fingers snagging your upper arm to keep you from toppling over onto the dark brown wooden floor beneath your feet.

"Stop being so bloody stubborn! I am not going to perform or let anyone else who isn't a qualified doctor perform any sort of surgery on you, and potentially get you killed!" He snapped back a bit too harshly without meaning to. You swayed on the spot, staring at him for the longest time, your lips parted as if you were going to say something in response. You wanted to, god knows you wanted to say *something*, but you didn't know what you could say without making him yell even more.

Of course, you knew that he didn't mean to yell at you like that. That he was only worried about your well-being, worried about getting hurt even more so than you are now or worse, killed. However, this had been the first time in a very long time James had snapped at you, and it had to have happened at the worst time.

"I didn't mean to yell at you," he said slowly as some kind of emotion flashed across his usually emotionless face, but it was far too quick for you to catch.

"It's fine. I get it, Jim." James watched wide-eyed as you pulled your arm out of his hand, causing you to stumble over your feet as you took a step backwards on shaking legs. You could feel everyone's eyes on you and all you wanted to do was to hide from them and sort this whole thing out yourself. Hurt was clear in your voice like a sparkling diamond set out in the sun as you spoke. "It's fine," you assured him, turning away, so you could move the rest of the way towards the couch on your own. Your vision was starting to blur and melt together, you blinked a few times to clear your fuzzy vision.

You went to take another step towards the blurring couch, repeatedly blinking to keep your vision in focus when all of a sudden it seemed as if the coffee table and the floor raised upwards to meet you, twisting and distorting for the briefest moment before settling on its side. From both corners of the room you could hear at the very least two people calling out your name, followed by the loud and unmistakable thud of your body hitting the glass surface of the coffee table and then the floor. Which was then followed closely by the sound of a million shards of glass shattering and tumbling across the hardwood floor, echoing around you, so loudly it seemed to drown out the sounds of people yelling for you to open your eyes and to keep them open.

After what appeared to be a few seconds, you could feel the electric buzz of pain ripple through you, causing your mind to jolt out of the darkness and quietness that had all but consumed your consciousness. The room blared dizzyingly back to life around you, the two deep voices of James and Harvey mixed together with the high-pitched frantic voice of the woman that you forgot to get the name of. You couldn't make out a single word either of them were saying to you.

"Ugh," you groaned out and moved your hand to your shoulder where you felt a dull pulsating pain hammer and throb across your skin. Your fingers barely brushed over the soft fabric that's wrapped securely around your shoulder, but not hard enough to cut off blood flow. Someone grabbed your forearm and yanked your hand away from the bandage, holding it down tightly to some kind of slightly scratchy, yet soft fabric.

You finally managed to pry your eyes open to find that everything was blurry, the lights hanging above you didn't help much either. However, you could make out Harvey and James hovering over you, but their expressions were something you couldn't make out.

"Can one of you please hold her down?!" The female demanded snappily with a slight hint of panic evident in her voice as you moved to get up from your warm, cushiony spot. She spoke again as you were inevitably pushed back into the cushions of what you assumed to be the now bloodied couch. "I have a hold of the bullet. If she moves I might lose it, or make things worse for her.”

You didn't like the idea of that and let out a yelp as two sets of strong hands fell down to your shoulders and pushed you further into the cushions. You assumed that they belonged to James and Harvey since they're the only two men in the apartment. Harvey moved his arms from your shoulder and down to your arm, like he was trying to get a better hold of you. James did the same, both of their holds on you tightening, as if they were putting all of their weight into keeping you down while the doctor got to work.

"H - ow!" You let out an inhuman screech as the woman ripped the long forceps and brass bullet out of your side. Warm, sticky blood trickled down your skin as the bullet was removed. After, the pain was red-hot as it pulsed through you, you felt as if your flesh was burning because of the quick and simple action.

Harvey and James let go of your arms, their shoulders shooting straight up to their ears as the screech bounced around the quiet room. The woman even placed her hands over her own ears as she stared at you, taken back by the sudden noise. It almost sounded as if you were an ancient dinosaur. "Keep a hold of her arms, and for the love of god keep her still. I need to suture the wound up," the woman told them with authority in her voice - she had clearly taken over the situation. All you wanted to do was to roll over and clutch your throbbing side in your hands, but that was out of the question.

By the time James and Harvey had their hands back on your arms, putting all their weight into it, you had your vision back. James had a stony look on his features, something he had mastered while in the army. While Harvey looked as if he was cringing at everything that is happening to you, most likely picturing himself in your situation. You let out a deep, heavy and shaky breath of air, your eyes darting around the room to find something to keep yourself occupied, to keep your mind from the pain.

"Oh god," you whimpered, you could feel Harvey's thumb rub over the skin of your arm soothingly. You hated to admit it but in a way Harvey had become a brother of sorts to you, a little like a father figure as well, you supposed.

"Okay, I just need to clean the wound, and then suture it, and then I'll bandage it all up." The woman told you in a soft, somewhat calming voice. However, it did nothing to calm your nerves. “Alright?” Like it was any good asking you that question, she was going to do it anyway, and you had no choice in the matter. Unless you wanted to die, which you didn’t.

Bobbing your head in acknowledgement to the doctor’s rhetorical question, all the worries about the woman who is currently taking care of your wounds being completely unqualified or even a doctor to the gangs of Gotham now forgotten about. She seemed to know what she was doing, at least you could give her credit for that. She hesitated for a minute, before pouring a bit of Hydrogen Peroxide onto a cloth and rubbed it over the wound to prevent it from getting infected. "It might make the healing process slow, but it'll do you some good." The doctor said to no one in particular, but that didn't stop you from mentally taking note of it.

To you, it felt like the deepest and darkest form of torture and that the devil himself was pressing a burning hot poker against your side. You pressed your lips together into a tight thin line and tried to roll onto your side as if to shield the bullet hole in your side. Tried being the key word since you were roughly pulled back into place by none other than Harvey who gave you a nervous smile, that did nothing to ease the nerves that started to rise up in the pit of your stomach. "I'm sorry [Y/N]. It's for your own good," he told you without hesitation.

You couldn't bring yourself to believe a word of what he said. If something this painful was for someone's own good then you can honestly say, with your hand on your heart, that you never wanted it to happen ever again.

"Is it over yet?" Laughing nervously, looking up at Harvey and James with pleading eyes.

"Not yet." James answered in return, his eyes never leaving the doctor as she carefully threaded the plastic surgical line through the needle they've brought with them to do the job. The next painful thing to happen was the feel of a pointed needle being pushed in and out of your tender skin. All you could do was let out a low whimpering sound, trying to find something that you could hold onto tightly for comfort but all you could curl your fingers around was the thick fabric under yourself.

Luckily, however, it didn't take too long for the doctor to do the sutures. She actually worked really fast and didn't mess up a single stitch. The woman was quick to put the bandage over your bullet wound too.

"Yeah, I don't plan on taking any more bullets that are meant for my brother. Thanks for your concern though." You joked.

The woman looked from you and then to your brother, raising a questioning brow at the two of you. "Neither of you get shot like this again or otherwise. I don't want to make another house call for something worse because the Gordon siblings can't keep themselves out of trouble." Harvey snorted out a laugh and clapped James on the back. Perhaps he wasn't as mad at James as you previously thought that night, but that didn't really matter to you right now.

The doctor said her goodbyes to you and James, telling him to keep an eye on you because you've lost a lot of blood. Like she could steal bags of blood from the hospital she worked in as if it was nothing, like she had done it plenty of times before in the past without getting caught or questioned. Harvey also left with the woman to take her back home, whether it was back to his place or hers you didn't quite care to ask. Not really wanting to know the specifics and honestly if he told you too much information about her, you were afraid it would break the illusion that you made up about her.

Once they were gone you managed to push yourself up into a sitting position. James had gone to find the pyjamas that you left there when you last visited and stayed the night, so you could get out of your bloody clothes. Although your blouse was pretty much useless now because they had to cut it off to be able to take care of you. Not that you cared about it, you hated the blouse anyway. "How are you feeling?" James asked suddenly. You hadn't noticed that he had joined you and was now sitting beside you with his hands held out in your direction, holding your pyjama's out for you.

You could see the smallest hint of a smile on his lips, a hopeful one. You hummed out a quiet thank you as you took the pyjama from him, carefully nodding your head "I feel... Less like I got shot and more like the devil himself is using a burning hot poker to stab me." You laughed out shortly, leaning into him and nudged his shoulder with your, wincing at the pain that fluttered through you.

A light-hearted chuckle came from beside you, James seemed to be relieved that you're joking about it. "I am sorry for putting you through that." You moved to get up, however the movement was slow, and in the end James helped you up by giving you a push.

"Considering I took two bullets for you and saved your ass, I think we're even." You told him cockily and walked a small distance from the couch. James turned on the couch the best he could so his back was to you.

"Oh, you saved my ass?" He asked in a cheerful voice. James was looking to the floor, finding the remaining shards of glass interesting, to give you privacy while you got into the clothes. You pulled the black spaghetti strap tank top over your head and bit your cheek to keep yourself from moaning in pain.

"Uh, yes I saved your damn ass from getting shot. However accidental it was," you sassed back, kicking your boots off and watched as they landed on the floor in a heap you got into your shorts quickly. James snorted at you, apparently finding your comment amusing.

He laughed and took a hold of your arm to keep you up right, "right, yeah. You saved my ass," you turned your head to look at him and noticed that he had his eyes closed.

"If it wasn't for me accidentally getting in the way of the bullets, you'd be shot and probably bleeding out somewhere." You made a face at the bloody trousers that you were wearing in disgust. The doctor was right, you had lost a lot of blood, or at least enough to make it, so you're not in need of a blood transfusion.

A quietness passed over the eerie living room which soon gave way to awkwardness. The only noises that could be heard were yours and James' breathing, and the sounds of the busy Gotham streets outside the apartment. Your eyes darted towards the open window behind you and James, and then to the front door, both ways for Victor to enter. You needed to call him to tell him that you're fine, he'd be beside himself if you left it any longer, but that would mean you need to get some time alone to be able to talk privately without James over hearing.

"You know you still haven't told me why I couldn't take you back to your place and get a doctor," his voice broke the suffocating silence and nearly made you jump straight into his arms. "Come on [Y/N]," he persisted, nudging your arm with his elbow.

You were hoping your brother would have forgotten all about it what with everything that had happened or at the very least he wouldn't bring it up at this very moment. But you had to admit, he really did have you cornered. You folded your trousers and placed them on the floor with your boots, staying quiet as you mulled your answer over very carefully.

"Listen, Jim." you trailed off slowly, thoughtfully, not knowing how to say the next words that you wanted to say. He was going to explode when you told him. He would tell you that you're being stupid and that you need to stop seeing Victor. "It's... Complicated," you shrugged as your eyes darted around the room, looking for some kind of excuse or even some kind of godly intervention to save you or interrupt the conversation.

"How complicated could it possibly be?" He asked, looking at you for an answer.

"Extremely," you muttered out and moved away from him as he dropped his arms to his side, squinting his eyes at you like he was trying to figure out a riddle.

“You’re hiding something,” he decided.

"Pfft, What?" You asked anxiously. "No," you said a little too quickly and clenched your jaw at his accusation.

"What is it?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest once more like your father used to do when the two of you got into trouble for something. Fuck.

Tag list; @elasmo-branchii, @nheirei, @the-ramblings, @milly-louise

#Gotham #gotham fanfic #gotham x reader #gotham x you #Victor Zsasz #victor zsasz x reader #victor zsasz x you #Victor zsasz reader insert #victor zsasz x female reader #writing #fanfiction #fanfic #ASB mention #ASB part 4 #ASBP4 #A Stray Bullet #A Stray Bullet Part 4 #trigger warning blood #tw:blood

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stardew-vxlley · 4 years

Text

now or never

summary: Shane’s crush on the farmer isn’t much of a secret around Pelican Town--even the farmer knows. What is a secret, is that the farmer feels very much the same for him. In a fleeting moment of courage, the farmer decides to ask him out.

pairing: shane x reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: mentions of food/alcohol

a/n: requested by @dontletyourchildrenwatchthis !! full of fluffy adorable love and shy, nervous shane. enjoy!

―

The chilly morning autumn air blew the orange and brown leaves in a flurry around Pelican Town Square. The village was just waking up--Pierre was posting the daily Help Wanted sign in front of his shop, Evelyn was pushing George in his wheelchair across the cobblestones to his monthly check-up at Harvey’s clinic, and Mayor Lewis was walking briskly back to his house, coming from the suspicious direction of Marnie’s ranch.

These mornings were always your favorite. You waved to Mayor Lewis as you made your way to Pierre’s--and the mayor hastily returned the wave and disappeared into his home with a flustered expression. You chuckled to yourself as you recalled fetching his purple shorts from Marnie’s room not too long ago.

“Good morning, farmer [Y/N]!” Pierre greeted you warmly as you entered the general store. Sliding the scarf from around your neck, you grinned at him.

“A good morning indeed,” you replied, eyes traveling over the colorful boxes and jars of various assortments. “I’m all out of wheat flour--trying to make a batch of cookies for everyone.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” he exclaimed, pointing to the aisle closest to you. “Up there on the top.”

“Perfect, thank you!”

You studied each of the boxes of flour, trying to decide how many you should buy. You were so deep in thought that you didn’t hear the jingle above the door chime cheerfully, but you registered Pierre’s greeting to who walked in.

“Shane! You’re up early today,” he remarked.

You nearly dropped the boxes in your hands, a red tinge creeping into your cheeks. Peeking through the merchandise stocked on the shelves, you saw Shane heading towards the snack aisle. His usual tired expression was as clear as ever, scowling at the rows of chips on the shelf. Biting your lip, you tried to be as discreet as possible as you hurriedly decided that one box of flour was enough for your cookies--and headed directly towards Pierre to pay for it.

“Just one box today?” Pierre asked, punching a few buttons on his register. “Will it be enough?”

“Oh, um, yeah--yeah, one box should be plenty,” you rushed out, keeping your eyes trained on the old counter top. Out of your peripheral vision, you noticed Shane was looking in your direction--earning an even deeper blush in your face.

“Just the usual price, then,” Pierre said, and you handed him the bag of coins. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Nope, nope, thank you!” you said hastily as you quickly gathered the flour in your arms, turning on your heel to make a beeline for the exit. Unfortunately, you hadn’t been paying close enough attention to see that Shane had gotten in line behind you, holding a bag of chips and a jar of sugar. You collided into him, sending everything flying in every direction.

“Oh, Jesus, I’m so sorry!” you cried out as you scrambled to clean the mess up.

“N-no, it’s okay,” Shane said, his cheeks flushed with matching embarrassment. “I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that.”

“I shouldn’t have been moving so fast,” you sheepishly admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

Luckily nothing had been harmed. You reached down and retrieved his bag of chips, holding it out to him. He took it from you, and there was a beat of awkward silence.

“Well,” you uncomfortably cleared your throat. “I’m--I’m gonna go now.”

“Sorry again,” he offered, passing by you to place his things up on the counter, where an impatient Pierre had been waiting.

“N-no problem!” You nearly tripped over your own two feet as you walked out of the general store. Once you were outside, you took a deep breath of autumn air and fanned your flushed cheeks.

Truth be told, you knew Shane had feelings for you. He wasn’t the greatest at keeping secrets--but it’s not like he had to try very hard to keep his mouth shut. It was his actions that gave everything away--you caught him gazing at you from across the saloon on more than one occasion, he sent you heartfelt notes in the mail (along with a smushed frozen pizza), and every time you were near him, he became a blubbering, flustered mess. It was adorable.

However, what Shane didn’t know, is that you had feelings for him too. Strong ones, at that. You found yourself taking the long way to town, past Marnie’s ranch, in hopes of maybe catching him while he was on his way to work at the Joja Mart. You also would steal glances at him on Friday nights in the saloon, brooding and mysterious in the corner.

But you could never bring yourself to say anything to him. You had tried, but each time you handed him a plate of pepper poppers as a token of love, you always chickened out and ended up running away. Like--literally running away. At full speed. There was just something about him that made you nervous, but in a good way--with butterflies and giddiness.

Later that evening, you were pulling the last batch of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. The warm and inviting smell wafted through your farmhouse, reminding you of the ones that your father used to bake for you as a child. Evelyn had been so kind and generous as to share her secret recipe with you, but you remained convinced yours would never come out as delicious as hers.

You packed them up tight in a container and set off to the saloon to deliver them. An enormous harvest moon was high up in the sky, illuminating Pelican Town with its celestial radiance. The stars twinkled cheerfully around it as you walked across the square.

You pushed the heavy wooden door open, the warm glow of the saloon washing over the steps of the stoop. The sound of the jukebox echoed across the town, the sound of silverware and drinks joining it in a pleasant symphony.

“Those look like cookies,” Gus called out from behind the bar, a twinkle in his eyes. “Freshly baked?”

“I literally just took them out of the oven an hour ago,” you laughed, stepping up to the bar and placing the container down. “You’ll keep them safe and make sure everyone gets one, right?”

“I’ll guard them with my life,” Gus promised, taking the container and lifting the lid. He inhaled deeply with a satisfied grin. “Smells like Evelyn’s recipe.”

“You have an incredible nose,” you chuckled, and turned to leave the bar. Your eyes couldn’t help but search for Shane, quickly darting to his usual spot by the fireplace. And...he was there. You locked gazes, that old familiar blush creeping back into your cheeks.

He awkwardly lifted the beer he was drinking in acknowledgement to you, to which you responded with a little wave.

“Won’t you have a bite to eat, [Y/N]?” Gus’ voice pulled your attention back to the bar. “I just made some of my classic spaghetti, hot off the pot.”

You opened your mouth to decline, it was getting late and you needed to get some rest. But on a whim, you smiled and nodded. “Sure, I’ll take a plate.”

“Wonderful,” he grinned, and disappeared to fetch it. You nervously tapped your fingers against the wooden bar, feeling Shane’s eyes boring a hole in the side of your head. You suppressed the urge to look at him again, focusing on the various bottles and dishes stacked along the wall.

Gus returned with a steaming plate of spaghetti, and your worries were placed on a temporary hold as you drew in the mouth-watering scent of homemade tomato sauce and pasta.

“Thank you so much, it smells divine,” you said graciously, looking up at Gus. “How much do I owe you?”

“On the house tonight,” he replied, picking up a glass and cleaning it with a dish rag. “For that little favor with the lobster.”

You beamed at him, and began eating your dinner heartily. It was as delicious as it smelled, and pretty soon you were fighting the urge to lick the sauce off the plate. Emily came by and took the dirty dish away, exchanging pleasantries with you while she did.

A moment passed where you were alone at the bar, full of pasta. A bolt of courage surged through you and you lifted your eyes to where Shane stood, watching him stare at the floor and drink his beer. His mop of hair fell into his eyes, making him look young and vulnerable. The hand that wasn’t holding the beer was shoved into the pocket of his jeans, sleeves of his sweatshirt pushed up.

You bit your lip in anticipation. Now was your chance--Gus and Emily were tending to other patrons, no one was in your way--all you had to do was get up and move.

Forcefully exhaling a breath, you pushed away from the bar and started walking over to where he stood. His focus turned to you, locking on your eyes as you neared him. You almost tucked tail and ran away--again--but something in you told you to just suck it up and get on with it this time.

You came to a stop just a few feet in front of him. Your mind raced to figure out just what exactly to say, mouth falling open with no words coming out. He stared at you, beer paused just halfway to his lips.

“Uh,” Shane said, “hi.”

“H-hi,” you stumbled over the word. You anxiously fiddled with your hands, blushing furiously.

His eyebrows raised in question. “C-can I help you?”

You laughed nervously, trying to refrain from tugging on your ear--something you did in any nervous situation. “I--I have something to ask you.”

You had his full attention now. He set down his beer on the counter before turning back to you and crossing his arms, the muscles in his forearms flexing.

“What is it?”

This was it. Now or never.

“Do you want to go out sometime?” you rushed out, squeezing your eyes shut in humiliation.

When he didn’t answer right away, you slowly cracked one eye open to peek at him. He was in shock--his whole face was red and his mouth was hanging open in surprise.

“You don’t have to say yes!” you reassured him, holding your hands up in defense. “I just--I really like you, and I want to--uh--ya know, get to know you better.”

Shane looked around, as if trying to find someone. His gaze landed back on you, brow furrowed in confusion. “I d-don’t get it.”

Now it was your turn to look confused. “What--what don’t you get?”

“You’re asking me out?”

“Ye-e-es?” you replied slowly, not liking where this conversation was going.

“And it’s--it’s not a prank? Sam didn’t put you up to this, did he?”

“No!” you exclaimed as you waved your hands. “It’s not a prank--that would be a horrible thing to do. No, I...I just really want to spend more time with you.”

Shane stared at you, until his adorable cheeks split into a grin. “Alright. Yeah--actually, I got two tickets to the Tunnelers game this weekend, do you want to go with me?”

“I would love to!” you said, all-too excitedly, and winced at your enthusiasm. “Sorry--I’m, ah, really nervous.”

“I know the feeling,” he replied, picking up his beer again. “So--gridball game, this weekend. I’ll meet you by the bus stop.”

“It’s a date,” you said cheerfully, and immediately blushed again. “I’ll see you then.”

“See you then,” he said.

Your heart was so full in that moment, that you didn’t realize you were staring at him in silence again, until he cleared his throat.

“Sorry! I’m gonna--” you gestured to the door with your thumbs, “--gonna get home now. To the farm. That I live on.” Smooth.

“It’s getting late,” Shane remarked as he glanced at the clock. “Can I--can I walk you home?”

“That would be really nice of you,” you replied shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Thank you.”

He led you out of the saloon and into the autumn night, and the two of you talked the entire walk home about anything and everything. And long after he had given you a sweet, nervous goodnight kiss on the cheek while the two of you stood on the porch, you lay awake in your bed and wished with all your might that this next week went by quickly, so you could steel your nerves and kiss Shane for real.

#shane #shane stardew valley #shane stardew #shane x farmer #sdv #shane sdv fanfic #shane x reader #stardew valley #stardew valley fanfiction #stardew valley fanfic

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bloodybells1 · 3 years

Text

ON SCORDATURA

When I was eighteen, I was really into heavy metal and had been practicing the electric guitar for four years. I was devoted to music theory and looked up to guitarists like Steve Vai. I played loudly and fast, emulating the popular style of playing when heavy metal was at its apex of popularity. You might say that I was a “shredder.”

My passion for technique took an unexpected turn, however, when I became fascinated by the classical guitar. I don’t exactly remember when it hit me, the inspiration to explore this type of playing. It might’ve been born from reading the name of Andres Segovia in the magazine interviews of my favorite guitarists. (Also, I listened to a lot of Jethro Tull, and the intro to one of his songs is a quotation of a popular classical guitar score by Bach, the “Bourée in E Minor.” I started teaching it to myself by ear, but soon realized I needed help adjusting to the new technique).

One day I made the decision that I wanted to take the plunge into the classical world. I purchased a cheap nylon string, looked for a tutor and, once I found one in Chapel Hill, NJ, I started taking lessons and practicing every day.

I was enthralled by the new possibilities in this style of playing. I was discovering a wealth of textures and styles I’d had no previous idea about. My parents had not listened to classical music, so all of this was foreign to me. But I fell in love with the genre all the same.

I loved how old this practice was, how its provenance dated back to before there was electricity. I loved the deceptive simplicity of paper scores, how the mere act of sight-reading might open up varied worlds of expression, limited only by the player’s willingness to learn the technique and the player’s ability to perform.

My tutor included Renaissance lute scores in his homework for me. These scores contained instructions for alternative tuning arrangements of the strings. This changes the whole grid of the fretboard. Each string has been tightened or loosened to different notes, so all the note relationships are changed. If you wanted to play the same material you would have to relearn it with new fingerings.

But that wasn’t the point. The scordatura was designed to make available new sonorities. These lute pieces dating back to the Renaissance had a “harpier” texture, with open notes ringing out in different keys and mixtures of notes in registers I didn’t often hear in guitar music with traditional tuning. It was rather exotic, like the simple act of turning a screw on a taut string had turned this plain old Spanish guitar into some new, esoteric instrument.

My experience with classical guitar, and specifically the scordatura my tutor taught me, was a factor later in life when I played bass guitar professionally in the mid 2000’s. Not only do I think that it made me flexible enough to feel confident learning to play another stringed instrument, but it also influenced my tuning. I utilized what’s called Drop D tuning, a simple type of scordatura that lowers the heaviest string by two notes. It gives you two extra lower notes you wouldn’t normally have with the standard tuning—where the lowest note is E.

Heavy metal guitarists love this tuning because of how much heavier it makes the music sound and because it ends up making power chord configurations a one-finger job instead of two, and you can play those heavy power chord riffs much more quickly with just one finger.

Drop D was useful to me, however, because of how it enabled me to interact with the songwriting. My band’s music was dark and a lot of the songs were in D minor. So having a lower D available permitted me to create pedal tones and deeper support functions for chords and textures that were already using that scale a lot. It added depth and character to the music because of this sort of flexible shadow figure moving around underneath the guitars and the keyboards.

I had a profound experience with scordatura later in 2014, while I was in acting school. One of our school productions was a kind of fantasia on Nabokov’s Pale Fire. The novel is already a bit of a fantasia itself, so the production was very post-modern.

The director, Alex Harvey, staged it brilliantly. One of his ideas was that my character would play passages on the piano between scenes. The score was from a series called Revelation by composer Michael Harrison.

Harrison had contrived a bespoke scordatura for the score. An assistant, a specialist who could interpret unconventional concert pieces like these, was hired to transform the school’s simple upright Yamaha, an instrument more often used as accompaniment for students singing from the American Songbook, into a piece of avant-garde machinery.

I had already begun learning some of the passages before the piano had been prepared. They sounded ok, but not extraordinary. Once the tuner was finished and the specific tuning had been accomplished, however, I began learning the pieces in earnest and it was, well, it was a revelation.

Harrison’s scordatura was wild. Some keys adjacent to each other were tuned only fractionally sharper than their predecessor on the keyboard, thereby creating a tonal cloud or wash between the two that sounded a little like an untuned guitar, but in a shimmery, beautiful way. Other keys were tuned a whole fifth from their predecessor, thereby jumping up very far between two adjacent keys. The two extremities canceled each other out to create a distinct sense of balance and harmony, a kind of timbral mist floating in the ether.

As I worked on the score I had a sense that I didn’t know what was happening. It was difficult for me to anticipate and conceptualize the piano with this exotic construction. Yet, reading through the score and performing it, the idea was actualized. A whole new musical sensibility was borne out of this tuning. It was thrilling to put into action such a strange and beautiful arrangement.

What would a trumpet sound like if one could alternate its tuning? It’s a ridiculous notion: it would require bending metal, destroying the instrument in the process. Scordatura is likewise impossible for woodwinds. Ditto, percussion. A timpani, the most obvious exception, is in fact quite flexible and can even be tuned during performance. The percussionist puts their ear to the skin and lightly taps so as to enable them to change the tuning without disturbing the performance of other orchestra members. But you can’t do that with, say, tubular bells.

Stringed instruments and the piano are different than all the other instruments. The oscillators, the strings themselves, are adjustable. Coupled with the fact of their polyphony, it’s plain why these instruments, especially the piano, are so popular. They are great adapters. They can be brought back to their mean and reset for future use in other circumstances. The ubiquity of these instruments, across genres, in barrooms and conservatories alike, is explained by their ability to avail themselves.

And what about the voice? How supple are the cords? Can they be stretched or loosened like the strings of a guitar? Is there a scordatura possible for the human vocal mechanism?

It’s debatable: vocal training, primarily through work in breathing, does fortify ones range by bolstering the lower and upper parts of the register with more support. But your vocal cords are your vocal cords. Even on a guitar, you can’t detune the strings too much. It affects the timbre: the fretboard is designed with a natural state of tension and that string that is being detuned is only thick enough to perform in a certain range before the slackening of the string makes it flap against the fretboard—or before the tightening warps the fretboard.

Vocal cords are similar in this way. Just like with a guitar, once you start “detuning” your voice, you invite corruption of the sound. Your voice cracks when you try to go too low.

When Olivier tackled Othello he tried to lower his voice through vocal training. Obviously, considering all of the other garish and offensive effects—the blackface, the funny walk, the stupid dialect—he should’ve known better than to engage in minstrelsy, but he also should’ve known about the corruption of his voice. Not all instruments have that level of flexibility.

He should’ve known that not everything is available.

What about the human being itself? Can it be construed as an instrument? one that might likewise permit a certain scordatura?

My feeling is that in this case the change is permanent. And, like with a trumpet, one risks destruction. The human being is not a stringed instrument.

I can attest to a certain kind of “permanent” scordatura of the body and mind. It was possible for me to “detune” myself, but it was a commitment to a new state. I won’t ever be able to “go back” to my original tuning. It involved deep structural shifts and I came close to collapse—and in fact did collapse—many times. The instrument—the body and the mind—was constantly at risk of crumbling and warping under the stress of the transformation. Slackening a string is one thing. Shortening or elongating a valve is another.

What is therapy but a type of spiritual scordatura? The patient comes in with a limitation in place and leaves with that “bar” set somewhere else. Thresholds are repositioned. Pain that was once unbearable can be stomached. New life experiences are permitted because the mind has been opened to their possibilities. It is a fact that the change is permanent, but after we recognize the evolution we would never want to “detune” back to where we were.

I have a long history with therapy and it is without question the source of all of the appetite for change that I’ve experienced. In teaching me about healing, it motivated me to seek out other forms of healing. I credit it with helping me gain acceptance to the prestigious MFA program in Acting which I entered in 2012 at NYU, the beginning of three years wherein this process of permanent scordatura would be hastened.

I had many illnesses. Some would find treatment through the program’s vast assortment of exercise techniques addressing body misalignment and spiritual imbalance. Yoga classes, Feldenkrais, Alexander technique, chakra work, these were all deployed to “tune” the bodies in class.

Voice and speech exercises as well helped bring awareness of lifelong limits, expressed through the mouth and in the breath. It was unnerving to encounter these intimate facts about how one walks, how one talks, how one moves, how one breathes.

Most people would never submit themselves to this level of scrutiny. A fellow alumnus with additional experience in the military often jokes that an MFA at NYU Grad Acting is actually more oppressive than boot camp because at least in boot camp you let your anger and hostility grant you relief—you can growl and yawp and hunch over and adapt to battlefields—whereas actors, despite undergoing similar rounds of abuse, must look smooth and collected and relaxed in order to perform well on stage. It really was a double whammy of having my being constantly interrogated in various invasive manners, all while being denied any permission to sublimate the tension.

I had my own motivations to undergo this training. I was desperate to have a classical training in the theatre. But I was also subconsciously motivated towards healing. Despite the horrors of these ordeals, the modalities that are therewith deployed are part of a healing experience that, having undergone them, I wouldn’t trade for anything. Had I known what I was getting myself into beforehand, I don’t know that I would’ve jumped in the pool. But I’m glad I didn’t know because I cherish the experience.

I had a problem with keeping my mouth only partially open which our singing teacher was constantly bringing my attention towards. She had taught me that this was a defense mechanism, a strategy of containment, a means of keeping the world from having access to my heart. (Of course, keeping your mouth closed is also a problem for sound projection on stage, but that’s more technical).

During one afternoon class, singing “Lonely Room” from Oklahoma, I broke down into tears as the teacher kept coaxing me to open my mouth more and more. There I was, a man pushing 40, with tears streaming down his eyes, opening his mouth wide, not even singing the words, just the vowels, but doing something that was so psychically threatening, something that I could never bring myself to do, something simple, like opening a mouth. The limit had been expanded.

There was an element of bodily restructuring to all of this as well. I had done a number on my body during those years of my professional musicianship, when I toured the world in a famous band. And so by this point, I was aware that a shift was needed from the effects of years spent in front of cameras and abusing drugs and traveling and losing sleep. Alice Miller’s book, The Body Keeps the Score, is instructive in this regard. Somatization of traumas explain a great deal of certain physical ailments. In my case, they played out structurally, on my bones and on my muscles and in my central nervous system.

These changes are subtle to the layperson. But they are profound for the student. When I look at how I held my body in old photos, it is obvious to me that there was something wrong. On the stage, with a heavy instrument hanging from my shoulder, it wasn’t perceptible. The lights and the postures have a way of masking the truth. But in the more candid and private shots—the Polaroids and the exposures from my disposable camera which my friends and I took in our apartments—I see evidence of a lot of tension. Shoulders crept upwards towards my ears; chest muscles held; an exploded solar plexus; a chin pointing up. It was a mixture of a lot of holding, a lot of somatization in the fibers, with a learned posture organized to communicate the persona I wanted everyone to see: a demiurge or rockstar.

I came into grad school as though off an assembly line, where the factory had riveted and hammered onto my body and psyche its lessons. It was a capitalistic factory but it was also a societal one, one that bore the hallmarks of the dogged problems which elude solution: childhood trauma, dog-eat-dog meritocracy, bullying, etc.

So now I was this product getting recalled, but I was going to another factory for refurbishment. One that also had rivets and hammers, but ones which were designed to break open the right parts.

I stretched and stretched. By the end of the three years I was essentially exiting with a new body. The myth about the seven year cellular regeneration in one’s body is instructive here. For it truly was the case that new grooves in my brain and muscular and skeletal patterns had taken hold. One of my teachers said during my final evaluation that I had come in to school looking like a clothes hangar with legs but that I now looked graceful.

Even my scoliosis—a condition I was born with and which I will contend with for the rest of my life—was discovered in acting school. I had had no idea about it before one of the teachers told me that I persisted in leaning downwards to my right. My spine curves in the shape of a sidewards C. It’s a genetic condition. Of course, hanging a ten-pound instrument off my shoulder and letting the weight pull me down to the ground so that I could look cool every night didn’t really help either.

The modalities in the movement and vocal training classes in acting school are designed to build awareness and flexibility in the body and the mind. The purpose of this is to permit the actor to be resilient enough on stage so as to be present and believable. So it has a practical purpose and a real-world application.

I had other problems which these modalities could not fix, but which their steady application, encouraging honesty and reflection, revealed. There were addictions and mental illness issues which I’d had no idea about before entering grad school but which were inflamed by the pressure inside. I then had to deal with them. Immediately, since they threatened the goal of getting my MFA.

The cocaine abuse of my years in the music industry haunted me in the form of paralyzing panic attacks and circadian disruptions which complicated my ability to perform in school. The years spent pursuing rampant and anonymous sexual congress created inappropriate obsessiveness with orgasms and romance. Naturally, given that my peers were all considerably younger than I was, this last part wasn’t all that abnormal. But it interfered nonetheless. I was no spring chicken but I was acting like one. I had to double down on sex addiction meetings and on therapy.

It all came to a head inside the cloistered walls of the conservatory. It came to a head when Alex Harvey, the director of the Nabokov rendition, had to massage my shoulders backstage as I collapsed in tears during one of many nervous breakdowns. It came to a head when in a movement class, during an unfamiliar physical exploration, an early painful memory of abandonment that had long been forgotten had been recalled and sent me to the floor sobbing.

I’m grateful that I had the means to address the issues. I had to juggle that with the demands of the curriculum. It was not easy. But I’m proud of my accomplishment and I’m proud of the new person this all made me become.

It is possible to “detune.” I think a better way of looking at it is “retuning.” It is a permanent scordatura and it therefore should not be taken lightly.

#conservatory #scordatura #alternativetuning #movementclass #voiceclass #mfa #nyu #nyugradacting #feldenkrais #yoga #alexander technique stretch and breath classes #classical guitar #heavy metal #dropd #renaissance #michael harrison #alex harvey #revelation

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dumbkiri · 4 years

Text

Fate Changes Final

Parts: [1, 2, 3, 4 ,5, Here ]

Summary: Not every star-crossed couple has to have a tragedy end like Romeo and Juliet. The end of [Name]’s note proves that.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Female! Reader

Genre: Fluff? Slight angst?

Word Count: 2.1 k, 6 pages (pretty short)

Warning(s): NONE..for once lol

A few days later…

“I get why you’re doing it,” Dick walked up from behind [Name], staring up at her Batsuit in a glass enclosure, “although, I will miss you on the field. Nobody really fights like you do.

”[Name] scoffed with a smirk on her face, “Do you ever get bored of complimenting people? Is that a skill others can acquire? I’m very interested.” She turns around with her arms crossed over her chest. Her [e.color] eyes had lost their color. Dick would describe it as a thin film of sadness covering her bright [e.color] hues.

“If you are interested, I can give you lessons on how to ‘woo’ people.” Dick placed his hands on his hips and smiled down at [Name].

“Now that you mentioned it, I’m not a simp,” [Name] laughed at Dick’s funny reaction. Her childish laughter echoed in the cold Batcave.

“I’ll ignore that for now,” Dick’s smile faded away when he redirected his gaze to the enclosure. He never imagined that she would retire from being Batgirl. She didn’t stop fighting crime when Jason died. His death only fueled her. Even after death, Jason was still her motivation. “So what’re you going to do now?”

[Name] sighed and uncrossed her arms and followed Dick’s own pose. She leaned on one leg and rubbed the back of her neck tiredly, “Actually, that’s what I was going to discuss with you guys.”

Dick awaited her response in anticipation.

“I, uh, got a job as a kindergarten teacher, it’s something I always dreamed of-- well at least, w--when...whatever I don’t have to explain. This is embarrassing enough for me.” [Name] stopped sputtering and ignored the incredulous look she was receiving from her best friend.

“I can’t believe it!” Dick exclaimed and hunched over from laughter. He held his sides and his body shook with happiness. He straightened up and noticed the deathly glare from the female. He wiped the tears from the corner of his eyes and breathed out, “Wow! The Brave Cardinal is now a kindergarten teacher? I just can’t believe you go from fighting thugs to caring for younglings.”

[Name] turned her back on Dick and huffed, “Laugh it up, but I want to live a normal life.”

She faced him with a determined look and pointed at herself with a newfound confidence, “I am going to live a normal life and have a normal job. I’ll start a normal family and have normal problems. If I want that then I need to retire being Batgirl.”[Name]’s eyes connected with Dick’s, “And I hope you guys, are fine with that?”

Dick smiled at [Name] with kindness and with hope, “Of course, all that we ask of you is give us a visit from time to time. Alfred would love some normalcy in his life.”

“I can manage that,” [Name] giggled and raised her arm up, her hand in a fist. Dick formed his hand into a fist as well and they both bumped their closed hands together,

“See you soon, Dick Grayson.”

“See you soon, [Name] [L.Name].”

Three Years Later…

Bruce held the bundle of joy carefully in his arms. He stared at the baby girl with wide eyes as his arms adjusted to a comfortable position. Then he looked up at the mother of the child.

“Why are you staring at me like that? It’s embarrassing…” [Name] looked away from Bruce with a blush. Her hands fumbling with each other.

Dick jumped up in excitement while Tim choked on his coffee when they saw The Bruce Wayne holding a child no older than two years old. Dick ran over to Bruce with the biggest smile on his face. He reached out to the baby girl, but Bruce pulled away.

“Dick, I just got the chance to hold her,” Bruce muttered.

Dick’s shoulders slumped and he backed away to give [Name] a bone crushing hug. He lifted her off the floor and spun her around. The two of them laughed at the happy situation. Dick finally set [Name] down and asked his questions. “This was the surprise?! How come you didn’t tell us sooner? Where is Henry, I thought he was going to be here too?”

[Name] chuckled, “Henry had some business with his employees and told me to introduce you all to the new family member.” Her [e.color] eyes looked over to her baby girl. Alfred was helping Tim hold the baby, but Tim was stiff as a statue.

[Name] looked back at Dick and announced loud enough for everyone to hear, “Her name is [D.Name] Martha Davis. We had trouble with her middle name, but then we thought of Bruce."

The older woman looked at her mentor with a kind smile, "Henry and I wouldn't have met if you didn't introduce us together. We are so grateful that you did because you guys granted my wish."

"And what was that?" Tim asked, holding on [D.Name] carefully. He was lolling her to sleep without even noticing it.

[D.Name]'s [e.color] eyes watched her mother with a certain shine in them. Her [h.color] hair was fluffy and short. People said she was the spitting image of [Name] and the mother couldn't deny.

[Name] placed her hands on her hips and walked closer to her family, "A normal life."

……

There's so many things I want to say to you. So many apologies. So many acceptances. I know that moving out of Gotham was something unexpected for you and I knew the news devastated you. I was also feeling the same way.

We never really got the chance to love each other right. I think we missed those chances. But I'll never forget the fleeting moments between us. They were nice while they lasted, right?

I missed that Christmas night when Bruce held an event at the manor. You had to attend because you were his ward and you invited me as your date. Everyone was dancing and I remember when you walked up to me with that goofy smile on your face. You asked me if I wanted to dance with you. I declined and your smile just disappeared.

So later that night before I left the manor, I went into your room to surprise you. I hope you remember this night as much as I do. You opened your door and oh god, you were so surprised. I still remember that funny look on your face. Makes me laugh every time I think about it.

I asked you if you wanted to dance with me and you happily agreed. You didn't hesitate at all. So you started up the music on your favorite station and what would be our song, Fly Me to The Moon, played. You held me so close that I could smell the faint cologne you had put on earlier. You smelled like chocolate and mint.

I know you did because all you ate at the party was chocolate and the mint? I still have no idea why mint. We danced almost all night and I ended up staying the night. You let me sleep in your bed even though there were plenty of other guests rooms. You just wouldn't let me go and I wasn't complaining.

That's when I found out you were Robin and Bruce was Batman. Then for some reason, there was a push. Like someone was telling me to join you two. Fight the bad guys. Bring justice. Enforce fear. You two were the dynamic duo in my eyes. You had this incredible chemistry that I longed for with somebody. That I wanted in a family.

So I ended up being Batgirl. Those were the days. Fighting crime with Batman and Robin. I thought I was dreaming for some time. But once I got a punch to my face, I knew the pain was real. That I wasn't dreaming.

You protected me on those patrols. You fought for me. You took bullets for me. Knife wounds. Bruises. You did everything in your power to make sure I was safe. That I would come back.

I wished I did the same for you. I wasn't there for you in your time of need. I didn't read your letters for weeks because my life in Metropolis was so consuming. I didn't do what you did for me. My guilt consumed me so much that I forgot how to be me.

I returned to Gotham, but like you said I was too late. I came into the manor with my belongings and Alfred told me Bruce was searching for you. That you ran away to go kill Joker. I waited all night in the living quarters for you to come back home. Bruce returned with nothing. He couldn't find you.

Then we got a video. I never felt so disgusted with myself. I never felt so hurt watching you be near that maniac. Joker, he was all fun and games. He brainwashed you till the point where you were going to tell him who Batman was.

I jumped at the sound of the gunshot. I cried at the sound of your body dropping. I fell to my knees at the sound of Joker laughing.

My heart broke so much that it was beyond repair. I did what I did best after your death. I took out all my anger and frustration on the vermin in Gotham. I took out all my shame and guilt on me. I was keeping watch on Harvey Dent one night and I got a call from Alfred. He was speaking so fast that I couldn't understand him.

All I got in that sentence was Joker, your name, kill and Batman. Our mentor was going to kill Joker. I sat on the roof for a minute thinking, 'Finally, finally Batman is getting rid of the stupid clown.' He deserved to die. The Joker was nothing, but the darkness in Gotham City. But then I came back to my senses.

I know, you hate him. You have a damn good reason to. I hate him as well, but we can't dictate who dies and when. We don't have the authority to plan or think how a person should die. So I ran.

I ran. I jumped. I rolled. I stopped.

Batman had Joker in his hands. A tight grip on his neck and if Bruce squeezed any harder, he would have killed the deranged clown. I watched on scared. The man who taught us the one important rule was going to break it. He was going to break the rule.

"We are no better than them!"

That's what I shouted. That's what got Bruce to release Joker. I was relieved that I stopped him from crossing that line. Because once you do, you can't ever go back.

I'm sure you heard that Joker died. It wasn't a gruesome death, no. It was a sickness that got him. And I think it's ironic. Joker was a plague in Gotham City. And he died from an illness. He died.

I lived on for months always dreaming of you. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw you. You were my everything. You were my protector. You were my Romeo. And I was your Juliet.

Our paths have never touched. Yes, we held hands. We kissed. We hugged. But we never were on the same page. And that is what breaks my heart. We were star-crossed lovers.

Joker was the one to separate us. He was our outside force. Another reason why I hate him so much. He took you away from me.

But our love doesn't have to end. Our story doesn't have to end like Romeo and Juliet. I'm not saying we can be lovers. I already said we missed those chances. But what I am saying is that we can still be in each other's lives.

And I want you to meet somebody. It's been a long time since we last talked. It's been three years? I heard from Dick that you're coming around lately which is great. I often come back to the manor as well.

I live in Gotham now, close by Wayne Manor for various reasons. The main reason was because of my daughter. She's two years old and if you saw her, is basically, she's the spitting image of me. I want you to meet her.

It sounds selfish. I know. But you're still a part of my family. You will always be a part of my family.

I want you to know I love you, Jason Todd. I'll always love you no matter what. And in an alternate universe, I hope that our fate changes.

Your Juliet, [Name] Davis

------

“Hey can you slow down a bit? It’s difficult to run in a dress!”

“I told you that we were going outside! It’s not my fault you don’t listen!”

A teenage girl huffed after the male in front of her. His midnight black hair soaking in the sun. His red shirt and black pants showing off his built body. She watched as he stepped over a creek with ease and he turned around just in time to help her hop over it.

He held her hand gently and smiled at her, “The dress does look good on you though.”

[Name] blushed and lost her footing. Her body ended up bumping into the boy and they fell onto the flower bed. “Oh, Jason! I’m so sorry about that! These shoes aren’t good with grip and-”

“My god, [Name], do you talk this much when you’re this flustered?” Jason chuckled and reached a tentative hand toward her face. She leaned into his palm and sighed in content while he stared at her.

“Jason, what are you thinking about?” [Name] questioned staring at the male with worried [e.color] eyes. She adjusted her body on top of him where she sat on his lap still facing him.

The teenage boy sat up with his hand remaining on her delicate face. His blue eyes reflected the bright blue sky. “I just, I’m glad we’re together. I was afraid that you’d reject me and that your parents would refuse my courting toward you.”

[Name] grabbed his hand and traced circles on his palm. “Yeah, I’m glad too. I don’t know what I would do if we didn’t have each other.”

Jason smiled and whispered, “I love you, [Name].”

She heard his words and stared at him with wide eyes. Then she made the first move. She moved forward and pressed her lips against his own soft ones. [Name] pulled away and noticed the pink tint on his cheeks.

“Can we do that again?” Jason asked and before he could get another kiss, [Name] stood up and brushed her dress. Then she started running toward the castle where Jason was crowned prince.

“Only if you can catch me, your majesty!” [Name] laughed running ahead.

Jason had this familiar goofy smile on his face and he jumped to his feet. He proclaimed, “Oh I will and when I do, you won’t regret it!”

And in an alternate universe, I hope that our fate changes.

......

TAGGED Fated Changers: @anotherfan07 @httpfandxms @greyxdaze @zalladane @iwriteaboutstuff @cutiepoo16 @kaylinfayezink @thescottpack @izzieg3987 @loxbbg @seymoourr @terralupa @backstagepaige @downtownbabyyeah @http-used-eraser @laggyphone @osejn @realityshifter111 @ishanequa @ryryryleigh @fvckthebatboys

#Jason Todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #alternate universe #dc #dc universe #dceu #arkham knight #x reader #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #batfam imagine #fate changes #ending

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kneamet · 3 years

Text

Angel of cards (14/16)

Trigger Warning: oral sex, obsession, yandere.

Summary: Joker, Mr. J, anarchist psychopath, Tom Hiddleston. He had many nicknames. Joker was Gotham’s most dangerous and insightful man, with sharp makeup and horribly memorable scars on his face in the form of a smile. He was absolutely crazy and deadly. No one knows his real identity and everyone is afraid of his cruel jokes. But what happens when he becomes obsessed with an ordinary girl?

She belongs to him. No one can take her away from him. Even The Batman.

Chapter fourteen: fear

He missed me. How the hell did he miss his beloved angel, who always supported him. Oh, how he wants to touch her shiny brown hair and run his hand through it, which will actually calm the tremor of his hands.

His hand in a purple glove touched the door handle is brown and he clicked on it, licking your lips and lightly biting them.

He walked into a brightly lit room. He blinked furiously. Why the hell did she turn on all the lights?

Suddenly, his strong nose picked up the smell of cigarettes. Friends of cigarettes. Is that a Stutton? He stifled a furious growl and swallowed the nonexistent saliva, once again running his rough tongue over the scars that adorned his face.

His eyes darted to his angel. He stifled the loud moan that wanted to escape from the man's throat. How gorgeous she was just now! And those sweet lips that he wanted to kiss!

"My angel," he breathed, opening his hands and closing his eyes. "I'm home," he said. Suddenly, the Joker felt a face pressed against his strong chest. He licked his lips again and looked down.

His eyes widened and he opened his mouth. Did his angel just hug him? Had she succumbed to his embrace? His eyes widened even more in joy, and he hugged her back tightly.

"I've missed you too, my angel," the Joker whispered in his angel's ear. His teeth suddenly brushed her earlobe. She just breathed loudly into his chest.

Did his angel really miss him? Really? The Joker wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Did he not believe that his angel would love him? Did he really think that his all-encompassing love would go unanswered and unanswered?

What a fool he was. Fool. Fool. Fool. He didn't want them to run out of minutes. How he wished that she would always stand there with him and not take her thoughts away from him. In the thoughts of his angel, there should be only him. Not Bruce, he's Betsy, not Harvey and Rachel.... Precisely! Harvey and Rachel! His angel probably doesn't know this news!

"My angel," he said, moving slightly away from her, disconcertingly, as he leaned in close to her face. "I'd like to tell you something very important: Rachel, your uncle's girlfriend, and Harvey, your worst relative..." he paused for a long, harrowing moment, then suddenly threw his arms out to the sides again. "... They're dead!" he finished cheerfully, beginning to laugh and slowly bend over.

But he didn't hear the second laugh. He stopped as abruptly as he had begun to laugh. His gaze met that of his angel. She stared down at her hands, her mouth open, her eyes downcast. He saw a single tear roll down her cheek.

His gaze became confused. He furrowed his brows and raised his hand up, touching the soft hair of his angel with his hand and continuing to make light strokes with small movements. Very light. Almost weightless.

The Joker pulled his little girl by the head and pulled her back into his arms. Into a soft and light embrace.

Suddenly, he felt his head move to the left. He blinked his eyes a couple of times. It took his angel-clouded mind a moment to realize that he had been slapped. A loud and brazen slap in the face. He turned his head and looked up at his angel, who was standing defensively.

What had his angel just done?

Did his angel hit him?

His?

An angel?

Hit him?

His?

"Don't come near me, you complete freak!" the girl screamed loudly in the Joker's face, while he stood in shock and his usual severity in front of her.

Suddenly, she jerked from her seat and ran to the other side of the room. The Joker ran after her, but he hadn't expected her to use the bathroom. A clicking sound caught my ear. Did she lock herself away from him?

"Open the door!" Joker shouted, banging on the bathroom door with his hands, not stopping. "Open it now!" he shouted again, without stopping the noise.

He sighed and asked in an unctuous voice, with a slight grin.:

"My angel, do you want to be punished Daddy J? Is that really what you want? Do you want Bruce Wayne to be dead, too? Ah, my angel?" at a fast pace, the man stammered very much, clapping his hands. He stopped abruptly, and there was a deep silence in the air. He could hear his angel crying in the bathroom.

"My angel, you probably don't know, here in the toilet, there are very weak handles and doors. I can easily knock them out!" The Joker shouted at the door again, but when he heard nothing but envious silence from his angel, he just breathed in, moving very far away. "I'm sorry, my angel," and he rushed out the door.

His shoulder itched, but his angel was free and with him again. Reunited. You can't do that. You can't just drop the Joker.

"My angel, you do realize that you will have to suffer a great punishment, right?" Joker asked, putting his hands on his angel's shoulders and pressing down on them. The girl, unable to withstand the pressure, fell to her knees in front of him. Right in front of his hot and horny penis. He pulled at his trousers uncomfortably.

The Joker unbuttoned the fly of his purple pants and slightly lowered his white, but slightly dirty underpants, revealing his big boner.

He watched as his angel swallowed and only lowered her head. Doesn't she like her punishment? He clenched his hand into a fist and grabbed his angel by the short hair, pulling him closer to him as he leaned in.

"Look at me while you do your punishment!"looking straight into the brown eyes of his angel," the Joker said loudly, not lowering her hair and only pulling his angel closer to his penis.

The male organ buried itself in her cheek, but the Joker only turned her head, forcing his angel to accept his cock.

When he felt his cock sink into his angel's mouth, he just couldn't hold back a guttural moan. Damn, damn, damn.

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b-rainlet · 3 years

Note

Gotham for the fandom ask thingy.

(I ran here so fuckin fast you have no clue)

Hello anon! :D I will answer this now, so you don't have to wait any longer but also....this would be very nice to answer through gifsets...(maybe when I am feeling up for it).

For now, have this:

(It's not proof read because I just sat at this for several hours and I don't wanna look at it anymore).

Favourite Male Character

You mean...besides the obvious answers?? :D

Ngl, it's S2 Jerome. I love that little twink with his parental issues and his tragic backstory and I wanna see him happy. There's a reason I have a bunch of AUs where he ends up having a family (mostly in the form of Lee as his Mother) and gets some actual help instead of being ostracized for being a mentally ill person snapping after years of abuse.

(This also ties into my very strong feelings regarding the fact that nobody actually helps the people at Arkham. And I don't mean the main villains there, I mean all the inmates who get treated like shit and are left behind on the regurlar (remember in S2 when Arkham was about to explode and nobody was talking about evacuating the inmates???? I do).

Other than that, one of my faves is also Jonathan. Which may be a little surprising because I barely talk about him but he was my favourite character throughout the show and he had way too little scenes.

(Kinda telling that the characters I latched onto are both helpless teens who were fucked over by the people who were supposed to protect them and can both trace their villain origin story back to Jim Gordon not caring enough about them lmao).

But the cast is big and varied enough that I actually like everyone? Butch, Zsazs, Penguin, S1 and 2 Ed, Jervis, Harvey, Jim......I like them all!!

(Special shoutout to 514A too, he was soft and baby and I wanted to keep him safe and sound really desperately).

(Another special shoutout to Barnes!! I didn't expect to like him when I first saw him, given he looked like he was gonna be mean and stoic and all, but I ended up really liking him and his story!)

Favourite Female Character

Let's just pretend Ecco doesn't exist for this answer ajdkaskaslj.

I fell in love immediately upon seeing Ecco but all! the women! are so!!! good!!!!

I especially have a soft spot for the side characters. I mean, upon first watching I got attached to Alice (even though she only features in two episodes lmao), and also Kristen Kringle - who isn't talked about much within Fandom, but she was pretty and her and Ed were actually quite cute but then she had to die for him to become the Riddler which was...pretty much telling us from the beginnning 'The woman here die to advance the men's plots'.

Barbara was also a big surprise to me because I figured she'd be the female love interest and nothing more but!! her and Jerome were the best thing in S2 and also the most entertaining thing about the Maniax Plot. (In several ways, I think I had the most fun watching this show during S2 , it was just. Good).

Also upon being in this Fandom and thinking about certain characters a bit longer I also really like Vicky Vale. And Montoya. And I wish they had kept both around for longer.

(I also wish they wouldn't have made Vicky a love interest for Jim. Or Sofia. No love interests for Jim except Lee and Barbara please).

Also Selina!! I love both Selina and Tabitha with all my heart - which may also be surprising because I barely ever talk about Tabby but I contain multitudes aklskddsm, and while I like sharing my horny thoughts about Ecco, I also love to think about Tabby and daydream about her being happy and exploring her (and Selina's) issues with showing weakness and affection and their strong loyalty regarding people that they trust.

I just.....women. Women good.

(Women also deserve to have more character than just being somebody's love interests and I have enough wips that completely sideline the guys to focus on the woman instead lmao).

Least Favourite Character

I don't have many characters that I hate??

I generally tend to instantly love everybody unless they are specifically made to be unlikeable. (I also spite-like characters who are hated for petty reasons, I just have a lot of love in my heart and not much energy for hate lmao).

But there were characters who annoyed me while I was watching.

For one, I think Gotham has a variety of super entertaining villains, but the main villains of each season tend to be....boring.

Safe for Strange they all kinda fell flat for me. Theo. Kathryn. Ra's Al Ghul. His Daughter. Mostly because their plotlines were less exciting than stuff like Jerome's carnival or Mother and Orphan's Hotel of Horrors.

Or their motives seemed a lot less understandable than the ones of the other Batman villains who pretty much always come from a place of suffering and abuse and break/snap under the pressure that's put on them (continuing this take of Gotham creating its own villains by leaving behind - mentally ill - people that need help, which I think is very true to most - if not all - Batman villains).

And then you have some characters that simply suffer from the fact that the show was cut short - which is pretty much any and every S5 character that had way too little screentime, but in this specific case means Jeremiah.

Because I disliked Jeremiah a lot while watching.

Without wanting to step on anybody's toes, him and Nygma are probably the two characters on this show I ended up disliking the most.

Mostly because Miah felt like a very cheap copy of Jerome and to this day I think it was a bad idea to replace Jerome with him, since Jeremiah - to me - seems like a super flat character.

Maybe if we had gotten him without meeting Jerome first, just having a Joker character introduced in S4, maybe I would've adored him, who knows.

But in comparison to Jerome...no. Just no.

(I will spare you from any longer rambles, but I think if you follow me, I talked about the ways Miah is lacking for me before).

My made up version of Miah though? I love him.

With Nygma it's even worse because I adored him. I instantly liked him. I was 100% behind him right up until the godawful Isabella plot happened and then it just all went to shit so quickly, I couldn't stand seeing him on screen anymore.

It's surprising that I didn't stop liking Oswald but to me, Oswald pretty much stayed the same while Ed became all bitter and hard and I just miss dorky S2 Ed you know?

It actually got so bad, I completely turned my back on Nygm/obblepot as a ship because I was so severly disappointed and I barely talk about Ed because I just can't stand what they did with him.

(Another victim of bad writing).

Favourite Ship

I'm just gonna stick to canon ships because I don't ever shut up about my Fanon ships so you probably know which ones I love the most :D

There isn't much romance going on within Gotham if I think about it - apart from Jim - which I definitely prefer. You wouldnt guess it from my blog, but I am not a fan of too shippy stuff because in most cases it just means sex scenes and I can live without those. I want action! Blood! Dead People! Not a two minute make-out session between two bland characters!

I gotta admit that Ed and Lee have some cute scenes and I would definitely ship them if I didn't dislike S4 Ed so much (S2 EdLee tho?? Yes).

Also I thought Jim and Lee was okay and Baby Batcat was quite cute at times but mostly I don't care about the canon ships.

I do ship Barbara and Jim though :D

I remember right before they hooked up in S5 I was like: 'I wouldn't mind if they got back together' and then went 'yay!' when they did and I wouldn't have minded a little more 'Will they?? Won't they??' between those two and them just having the mother of unhealthy relationships on this show.

(Also Jim/Barbara/Lee poly relationship but we can't have everything).

Favourite Friendship

So many good relationships on this show!

I need to rewatch the show soon because I probably already forgot about most of them but from the top of my head: Oswald/Butch and Oswald/Zsazs

Which were both then done dirty lmao. One by having Oswald be overly petty (one of the few times I was like...Pengy...wtf...) and the other by passing up the obvious opportunity to have Zsazs find out who really killed Falcone and just...letting Oswald and Victor never interact again.

Then of course Ivy and Selina which also gloriously fell apart. Just like Ivy and Oswald.

(Gotham isn’t the best when it comes to maintaining friendships).

And the biggest and most grandious friendship of them all: J Squad.

(Who have too little scenes together honestly and then also simply fell apart after Jerome died. Consistency who?)

Favourite Quote

I don’t know, I don’t have many quotes in my head from the show. Me and my niece mostly reference: “Yeah, that’s a spoon.” - “IT IS ALSO A FORK!!1!!!”

Also: “Gotta Go! Gotta Go! They’re after me and the Scarecrow!”

(There are some dialogue blurps I have written down somewhere because they are inspriration for gifsets but in order to be able to just recite some of them from Memory, I would have to watch this show way more obsessively).

Worst Character Death

I don’t even gotta say anything do I? :D

But I think the character death that actually made me cry was Jerome’s first death. I clearly remember crying because...he just wanted recognition! And praise! And instead he was used as a pawn and betrayed by someone he idolized and he was only 18! My poor little meow-meow!

Seriously, the only things that make me cry on this show: Jerome’s first death, any and all mention of Bruce as a baby - told by an emotional Alfred, any and all Bruce/Alfred interaction at all and Solomon Grundy.

This made me so happy you have no idea Moment

I seriously need to rewatch this show, it’s been so long :D

But I remember being pretty excited for the J Squad Team Up - because I was like ‘If I were Jerome I would definitely work with Tetch and Scarecrow since they’re also in Arkham atm’ and then he did!!

And I also distinctly remember in S3 that I was close to falling asleep right when they scene came on where Oswald realizes his feelings for Nygma and let me tell you - it caught me so off guard, I was awake instantly lmao.

(I knew that people shipped them but I was so used to mlm ships being popular when they only have a handful of scenes and are platonic friends that I didn’t expect them to actually have a possibility of being canon).

From then on I was super pumped for them to deliver on that ship but well....we all knew what happened asnksnndk.

Saddest Moment

Aside from the already mentioned scenes in the character death column, the scene where Bruce leaves and Selina runs to the airport. I always liked Selina but she wasn’t a priority character of mine (much like Bruce isn’t) but then that scene happened and in an instant, I felt super protective over her.

She is now my baby. My daughter. My beloved wife. She deserves everything and most importantly she deserves better than Bruce Wayne.

(Coincidentally that was also the scene where I decided I don’t care much about Bruce asldjkjlj. I absolutely adore early seasons Bruce though).

Favourite Location

There are so many different locations, I don’t think I can adequately answer this with my spotty memory :D

But I always loved the few episodes where Alice features, because I love how her scenes are shot so probably the little carnival Jervis prepares for her.

Also!! Jeremiah's church!

Or Commissioner Loeb's secret house (Especially the Attic).

There are a lot of cool locations, I gotta gif some of them soon :D

#Long Post #To do

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gothamsworst · 4 years

Note

What if the dork squad got married to their s/o?

(Since you never specified gender, I’ll be keeping that part up to interpretation, anon!)

The Dork Squad x S/O- The Wedding Day

Jonathan Crane:

The affair was a small gathering of fellow rogues and of course your friends. Blood relatives were a no show but that was to be expected considering who you were marrying. It was held in a homey yard in a country house in the humid heat of mid July. A summer wedding in the afternoon. With more than a dozen misfits and criminals as your witness, they can confirm, they’d never in all their years of knowing Jon seen him so awestruck. The look on his face as you walked down the aisle left his heart thumping louder and louder in his head but it wasn’t scary anymore. He was so indescribably happy... in a way that fear could never hope to replicate or convey. His vows were simple but heartfelt, most importantly they were a truthful testament to the grumpy grouse of a man you fell in love with, for whatever reason. All could agree to this after all was said and done. There really is no kind of wedding that gets you as hammered as a country wedding. Lucky for you, Jon hired the best photographer in Gotham to not only capture the tender moments but also Harley throwing it back on Ivy, Jervis running like Satan was after him after stealing Harvey’s slice of cake, Norman and Selina watching from a table as Harley’s spark with joy as she finds the karaoke machine and (a personal favourite from the both of you) Edward and Jervis tipsily singing Single Ladies (choreo included) on a shitty karaoke stage.

Edward Nygma:

Edward Nygma is a natural perfectionist with a strong sense of showmanship. This would be a wedding to remember as far as he was concerned. The both of you were dressed to the nines, he ‘borrowed’ some rich old nobody’s villa on Gotham’s outskirts for the venue and as soon as the venue was secured the word spread fast on the priceless all-you-can-eat catering. As much as your friends and loved ones were ecstatic about the wedding, everyone was certainly looking forward to the after party. When I mean everyone, I mean everyone. I’m not saying this was a public affair, the only lawful citizens were likely your friends and family, but Ed had cordially invited the entire significant criminal underbelly of Gotham. The entire criminal underbelly got to watch you walk down the aisle. Those in the front row, if they looked close enough could see the small held back tears in his eyes. That is, if they could see past that nine mile wide smile of his. Now it is very well known by basically the entire Gotham criminal underworld that Edward is a man of many words. So you can imagine everyone’s, surprise when he pulls out a few hundred cards from his suit jacket and can barely get past the first sentence. He decides to just keep it sweet and simple or he may start bawling, it was heartfelt all the same. This moment may have been one to remember, but let it be known, The Nygma After Party was talked about for two weeks straight. A live jazz band for the first dance (Edward is a remarkably competent dancer), then a professional DJ for the party which had bottomless alcohol refills. Mob bosses leant against one another, drunkenly singing Celine Dion. Harley drank Bane under the table after she chugged a whole bottle of tequila in front of the entire rogues gallery. Harvey caught the bouquet and basically got mobbed (led by resident relationship gossip Jervis) when he grumbled jokingly something about needing to tell them about this. Oswald was the reluctant accidental leader of a conga line and instead of the usual conga ritual, everyone was just doing increasingly stupid impressions of him. All in all? A picture perfect wedding. All captured on video by Edward’s sister.

Jervis Tetch:

This was a mostly rogue centric affair but it was a very romantic venue. It was in this wide forest clearing, very cottagecore feel. An open wire gazebo, garlands of multihued flowers, pastel ribbons that swayed gently in the wind and he couldn’t look happier. Unlike the last two, he’s a complete mess as you walk down the aisle. Tears started falling as soon as you started to walk down the makeshift aisle. He had to take a moment to dry his eyes slightly so he could actually see what he was doing because he’s emotional okay?? Baby’s getting married an he’s so happy (qlsjsjkqjqjasjwjqjqh- anyway). His vows had a lot of weight, he talked about how insecure he was then and how astonished he was now that he was standing here with his partner, a soon to be married man to the most stunning person to ever grace this lifetime. The kiss that came afterwards tasted as stress eaten french pastry and tears that came from both of you. Speaking of, the after party was as mad as its hosts. First came the dance to https://youtu.be/3JARp8lB25g . Fast paced, grim lyrics but full of fantasy and whimsy. Not unlike him. The song concludes and Jervis announces that he had mind controlled a whole buffet catering service and the booze was free for tonight’s celebration. Tables were set with cottagecore items that held a certain whimsy charm to them and the festivities were held under the light of the hanging lanterns. For the rest of the night music played, laughter echoed through the woods, songs were sung both drunk and sober, both of your feet aches and so did your smiles. You couldn’t be happier if you tried, lest your grin split you into two.

youtube

#ask #dc #batman #gotham rogues #headcanons #edward nygma #riddler #anonymous #sfw #jonathan crane #scarecrow #jervis tetch #Mad Hatter #the dork squad #The Bug Lady #🐛🕷🦗

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it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream · 3 years

Text

Silva Lining (Saul Silva x reader) chapter 19

Warnings: swearing?

Word count: 1.4k

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You had just enough time to grab your stuff and run before the camp was overturned by the Solarian guards and an angry Andreas looking for revenge. The ‘dark guards’ as they had called themselves opened fire on the enemy as you and your friends made a run for it in the direction they had pointed. Black cloaks billowed behind you as the dark guards followed behind. Soon enough you’d run into an open field, in the middle, a plane. Not an ordinary plane you and Bloom knew from earth, no, this was more like what you’d call a Quinjet, you know, the thing they use in avengers. Apart from the armour glistened black, so dark you could see your own reflection. The female Dark Guard clicked something on a device that was concealed by their cloak, the hatch at the back of the hovercraft opened and your friends made a b-line for safety. The shouting from the Solarian Guards got closer, the two Dark Guards struggling to hold off the hoard that had amassed at the edge of the forrest line.

With the amount of fire power the Solarians had, you knew the plane wouldn’t be able to leave the ground without taking any damage. You turned, abandoning the safety of the aircraft. You were pissed off, cold, you head hurt and all you wanted was the man you loved and these assholes were the ones getting in your way. With all the emotions now swirling inside like a bottled hurricane, you threw your arms out to the sides. It was if everyone stopped. The guards on both sides looked up in amazement as black tendrils floated from your fingers, creating a wall high and wide, as wide as a football field, separating you and the enemy.

“Get on the thing and get it started!.” You threw your head in the direction of the spaceship looking thing and the Guards listened, running to start your way to Saul. The Solarian guards were trying all they could to penetrate your magic but it was no use, you were too strong and determined for them.

The sleek, black machine roared to life, your friends were standing at the open door shouting at you to hurry. You knew without focusing on the shield it would only last a couple more seconds suspended in the air before the enemy could break through, it was now or never. With a swoosh of your arms you turned and ran toward the open door, the black, dense wall of fog dropping rapidly behind you. The sound of bullets could be heard whizzing through the air, arrows too. The spacecraft was hovering in the air, Sky was leaning down waiting for your outstretched hand when another arrow flew past, grazing your arm and embedding itself into the body of the plane.

——————————————————————————————————

Sky managed to pull you up just in the nick of time. Your arm had a deep cut, the arrow slicing through your skin like a hot knife through butter. You’d think with all these fairies around they would be able to heal your bleeding wound in a flash but no, the only one capable of it would be Mr Harvey and he didn’t have any of his herbs or potions. Terra had some, but not the ones he needed, she did give you something to take the pain away which worked almost instantly.

“So where is it you’re taking us exactly.” Sky hadn’t left your side since you boarded the plane, his protective side in full force, you were sure he didn’t trust the people who had rescued you, but why should you, you didn’t know them.

“We’re going to the castle, where the Princess will meet her father and loyal subjects, you will also get to meet the students at the Witch academy. They’ve heard all about you and are eager to make your acquaintance.” You looked at Sky and mouthed ‘Witch academy?’ to which he shrugged, your mother and Harvey on the other hand seemed to know what they were talking about.

“Once Fairies and Witches practised magic together, but then the blood witches spoilt the name and they had to go into hiding. Bringing together the two races again was a plan that we at Alfea had been discussing seriously, hoping in time to bring the realms back to how they once were. I didn’t know it was your father who housed the school.” Your mum sat and pondered in silence. Well, if it wasn’t one thing after another…. you still had a lot to learn about this life.

It seemed like you had been travelling for hours, at one point you were sure you fell asleep, only waking when Sky changed the dressing on your bleeding arm. It was light outside, but the sky wasn’t its normal blue hue, instead the sky here was more purple and pink, something you’d never experienced in your lifetime.

“Were in Imperium.” Stella gasped as she looked outside with you, taking in the hue of the sky as well as the multi coloured landscape below. The others all rushed to the windows in excitement.

“I didn’t think it was real, the only thing I know about it is what i’ve heard in stories.” Terra turned to you smiling.

“So what’s so special about this place exactly?” They gave you a blank look. After a good 30 minutes of story time, you found out that Imperium was thought by some to be a myth, legend, only those important enough knowing the location of the realm. Imperium was home to some of the rarest of creatures in the whole of the magical world, it’s thought to have been the first realm created by the elusive Great Dragon, the very creature that gifted you with your immense power, the dragon soul.

It wasn’t long after you took in the scenery below that things really started to come into view. The air craft came to a slow landing, the two Dark Guards touching all sorts of holographic screens to power down the vessel that brought you to safety. Looking out of the window again, you noticed a crowd had formed.

“Stay close, don’t trust anyone.” Sky whispered to you and the others low enough that the Guards didn’t hear. You all stood, ready to disembark, your arm you held against your chest firmly, wincing when it jostled. As soon as the hatch door came down, you were bombarded by people. They were looking you over, equipment was at the ready to heal your arm and you were nothing but confused.

“We sent word that the princess would be needing immediate medical attention.” The Dark Guards stood by you watching as the healers made a fuss. Your friends and mother stood close by keeping a close eye on the situation.

“I don’t care about my damn arm! Where is Saul?!” You flinched as a shock went through your arm, when you looked down, the wound was gone, as if it had never been there in the first place. You thanked the healers but still the only thing you were thinking about was Saul. You pushed passed the nosy crowd of people that had gathered. You broke free of the mass and out into the open, what you saw next made your heart stop.

There he was, dressed in all black, stubble caressing his jawline, lips set in a confused frown as he looked towards the commotion, it was only when he saw you that his whole face lit up, his eyes widened and his mouth turned upward in an almighty grin. Your eyes brimming with tears, you flung yourself forward, running as fast as you possibly could, Saul running just as fast toward you, bounding down the many steps that led up to a huge castle you had failed to notice. You didn’t slow, throwing yourself into his arms, your bodies colliding. He caught you as you knew he would, his arms wrapped around your back as your legs came around his waist. The tears were flowing now, emotions were extremely high, you could hear cheers in the background. You looked him over, making sure he was okay then wasted no time pressing your lips to his in a feverish kiss. Like always, fireworks and sparks erupted, although this time, the sky danced with colour, a neon light show curtesy of your magic.

You were where you were supposed to be, in his arms, it was home.

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Hey! Whoop they're reunited! Saul is back babies! <3

Hope you liked it, please comment/love/follow/re-blog <3

CHAPTER 20 ----- CLICK HERE

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smokeybrandreviews · 3 years

Text

Smokey brand Movie Reviews: Holiday Season

Had an opportunity to sit down and really take in this adaptions of one of my favorite stories in the batman lore, Batman: The Long Halloween part One. This story is one of the most influential in all of comics and, indeed, is constantly referenced by any modern live action Bat-flick. The Dark Knight, arguable the best of the many Batman films, is basically just this narrative. It’s literally just The Long Halloween so seeing the graphic novel properly adapted, with all of it’s twists and turns, is something I've always wanted. Now that’s it’s here, how does it hold up?

The Good

I love this art style. It smacks of Batman: The Animated Series but with a modern polish, while paying homage to the surreal pen of Art Sale. One of the reasons i fell in over with the graphic novel was Sale’s almost psychotic rendition of Gotham, it’s many characters, and his use of shadow. None of that unique flair is lost on this production, even if it’s kind of tightened up at points. Like, take Catwoman. I loved Tim Sale’s take, the purple suit is kind of the Selina i grew up with, but I'd be lying if i said i didn’t enjoyed the version of her in this film even more.

I just mentioned this but i need to emphasize how at home this feels in the BTAS universe. It’s a like a adult version of an episode from that show. That should lend a bit of credibility to the quality on hand. Part One is pg-13, and you really feel that, but Part Two is supposed to be R. I’m looking forward to seeing how hard they go because the back half of this narrative gets real bloody, real fast.

I have to admit, the animation is pretty okay. Most of the time. It can fall of the cliff occasionally but, for the most part, it’s some of the best in these Animated DC films. The use of CG is beautifully integrated into the hand drawn bits and it really puts Invincible to shame that way. People were praising that show for how awesome it looked but i was never impressed. I wasn’t that impressed with Halloween either but it was still better than Amazon’s production.

I have to say, this voice cast is legit. There are some real hitters in this and they really deliver. Jensen Ackles is a surprisingly decent Batman, which is kind of hilarious to me, because he plays Jason Todd in my favorite of these animated flicks, Under the Red Hood. Naya Rivera is outstanding as Catwoman and Troy Baker is absolutely the next Joker, after Hamill decides to retire. Always a pleasure seeing Josh Duhamel and his Harvey Dent is a seething ball of rage, teetering on the edge of madness while Titus Welliver’s Carmine Falcone is just f*cking insidious. Billy Burke, Julie Nathanson, Jack Quaid, and Alastair Duncan, are all great in their respective roles but, holy sh*t, did David Dastmalchian’s Calendar Man give off Hannibal vibes! Great choice on that one, for sure!

I just have to emphasize just how much i enjoy this version of Catwoman. Naya breathes this character and her loss is a real tragedy.

I absolutely love this narrative so there wasn’t a question I'd gravitate toward a cinematic adaption but, i have to say, i was a little surprised by how tight this bad boy is. Like, the script, itself, is really good for something based on a comic book. I can see this thing being a proper live action adaption and being considered almost as great as the best of the Bat-flicks.

I’m just really glad this exists. The Long Halloween is one of the best, one of the quintessential, Batman narratives out there and it’s kind of a crime there has never been a proper adaption.

The Meh

Kind of wanted this thing to be a little more visceral. The Long Halloween is one of the darkest, most violent, Bat-stories ever. They kind of flirt with that carnage a little bit, but this part didn’t go full Holiday, if you know what i mean. The second one is supposed to get real gritty so i can give this one a pass but it sucks that we have to wait a month to get the real feel of this narrative.

The pacing is a bit wonky. I can see people complaining about how slow this thing is at times but i chock that up to the nature of this story. In a graphic novel or comic, you can tell a story in a certain manner but that doesn’t translate all that way to film. I’m fine with what we were given but i can totally see other people completely frustrated by the plotting, especially with Joker shows up. You just want SO much more of that guy.

The Bad

The way this story is told, hinges on the passage of time. This adaptation does a bad job of conveying that. The book is fine. You can consolidate a day or holiday, into one issue, This movie can’t do that and, at times, struggles with telling this particular aspect of the story, correctly.

I mentioned this before, but sometimes the animation can be really rough. Like, there’s a scene toward the end where that sh*t just falls of a cliff. These shots are few and far in between, but they are very noticeable and very jarring. If i didn’t love this story so much, i can see how this would take you out of the experience.

The Verdict

This sh*t is good. Real good! The Long Halloween is one of the best Batman stories ever told. It deserves to be treated with respect and reverence. Batman: The Long Halloween part One does just that. It has an incredible cast who all deliver wonderful performances, a familiar art style that feels both nostalgic and unique, a relatively tight narrative that pulls in the best bits of the source material while cleaving free some of the fat, and just an overall gorgeous production. This movie is easily one of the best in the animated DC vault, even if it is a little flawed. Warner did right by this iconic story and delivered something that puts The Killing Joke, another quintessential Bat-story, to shame. If you’re a fan of the Bat, you’ll love this movie. If you’re a fan of animation, you’ll love this movie. If you just want to see Batman done right, you’ll love this movie.

#Batman: The Long Halloween #Batman: The Long Halloween part One #DC #DC Animated #Smokey brand Movie Reviews

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