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allysunny · 3 months

Note

Hii, firstly I LOVE ur writing so much, you’re really talented 🌟💘

Congrats on 200 followers, SOOOO DESERVED!!!

I was wondering if you could do 27+r for Bruce 🥰 something like he left to protect her, it hurt him more than anything and he realized that it was mistake and wants her back. Happy ending tho, I’m a sucker for that haha 😄❤️

Thank you in advance, much love! 🫶🏻

“You left me” / “I was protecting you” / “You LEFT me” + Protecting you x Bale!Bruce

Words: 15.8k words

Warnings: Angst, infidelity, cheating, lots of angst, pregnancy, break-up, suggestive themes and one (1) very poorly written and short nsfw scene (it's like 5 lines long I think), one (1) death, Bruce Wayne being a mess (relatable), a lot of heartbreak and pining, not proofread. I literally wrote this in a span of like, one week, and it's not proofread, so oh my god I'm so sorry if there's anything wrong with it...

A/N: Oh my god. Hello everyone. Holy fuck. Okay so, I hope you guys are interested to know what the fuck happened here. I don't want to waste any more time (the explanation is quite big), so I'll add it after the fic, in the final Author Note. Small context: I got two requests that were kinda similar, so I decided to mix the two together!

Just a heads up, due to reasons that I'll expand on at the end, I feel like the end drags on a bit. I did not proofread because I was a bit saturated with this piece, and I think that at some point, I actually cried because I was panicking real hard.

Anyway!!! I love Bruce!!!! I hope you guys enjoy this <3

Bruce knew you were the one after you'd first spilled coffee all over his suit.

You just looked so worried, your pretty eyes wide with fear as you tried to think of what to say to this stranger you'd just bumped into – or so he thought. You, in fact, knew exactly what you wanted to say to him.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, asshole!" you'd exclaimed, looking at what remained of your iced coffee. "This thing was almost 10 dollars, what am I supposed to do now?"

Bruce eyed you up and down, honestly surprised you had the guts to raise your voice at him. Didn't you know who he was? Did you simply not care?

Either way, he was enthralled.

"Hey!" you waved your arms in front of him, trying to get his attention. "Look at me!"

"May I be so bold to point out you spilled your coffee onto me?" Bruce asked with a small scoff. "If anything, you are the one supposed to do something about it."

"This wouldn't have happened if you watched where you were going." You were very pretty, Bruce noted. Your eyes seemed to sparkle, and your arms were crossed over your chest, making his eyes dart towards it.

"And what am I supposed to do?" He replied.

"I don't know! Give me my money back or something, that coffee is super expensive! It's my special celebration cup!"

""Your money back?"

"Yeah! You're dressed up all nice, I bet that suit costs more than my rent."

"Oh, really?" Bruce was amused one. You were feisty, clearly. "And what makes you think that?"

"No one walks around Gotham dressed like that, unless they're rich, powerful, law agents, or I don't know, Bruce Fucking Wayne."

"Bruce Wayne? Does he dress like this?"

You scoffed, shaking your head and gesticulating a lot with your arms.

"Probably! I mean, it's not like anyone has ever seen the guy, but let's be honest, he probably dresses in expensive as fuck silk, or like, placenta that's fed to and then shat by babies or something."

You only seemed to get better by the second.

Bruce placed a hand on his chin, truly intrigued by your line of thinking.

"Placenta that's fed to and then shat by babies?" He had to admit, this was pretty amusing. Did you have any sort of filter? If so, he never wished that you turned it off.

"Maybe – I don't know – It's Bruce Wayne, so who actually does know? Maybe he's running a society of baby-shitting placenta. It's Gotham. One day we have masked vigilantes jumping off roofs, and the other, bomb threats. Regular Tuesdays for us Gothamites. But the real question here is," you jabbed an accusatory finger into his chest. "What are you going to do to repay me my very well-earned 10$ worth of iced coffee?"

Bruce was just about to reply, when a very familiar voice spoke up behind him.

"Ah, Mr. Wayne!" Lucius's Fox deep timbre was unmistakable, and Bruce turned around to offer him a polite smile. "I'm happy to run into you, there's a few things – " He took one good look at his boss's shirt and grimaced. "Hell, Mr. Wayne, how'd that happen?"

The younger man turned around to glance at you. Poor, poor you, with eyes even wider, and a matching mouth. You blinked several times, looking from his shirt to his face, and from his face to his shirt.

"Oh, that's right. I almost forgot to introduce myself," he put a hand forward, offering you what you thought was the most dazzling smile ever. Geez, women must basically throw their panties at him.

"Bruce Wayne. Baby-shitting-placenta cult leader."

You blinked a few more times, wishing the earth swallowed you whole. You'd literally never done anything wrong in your life. Sure, you talked trash about Suzy Carpenter's sweater in 8th grade, but it was warranted – it did look like vomit – and you had stolen a yogurt from a coworker once, but surely that did not warrant running into Bruce Fucking Wayne of all people, spilling coffee all over his clothes, and accuse him of eating placenta. Maybe Suzy still held a grudge.

"Mr. Fox, how about I stop by your office later today? I'm quite busy this morning. Have something to do."

"Of course, Mr. Wayne. I'll be patiently waiting." Lucius gave him and you an acknowledging nod, before walking away.

You were still staring at Bruce, completely at a loss for words. What were you supposed to say? Was there anything at all you could say?

"I – Mr. Wayne, I – Well, I'm – I," you stuttered and stuttered, and Bruce could only chuckle, before shaking his head. He looked to his left and took a few steps, opening a door before him.

"After you."

Confusion took over your expressions. What was he up to? Where was he going?

"I promise not to kidnap you into a placenta cult," he chuckled, nodding towards the door. You looked at the name written in green letters on the glass. "Coffee House". "I believe I have a cup of coffee to make up for?"

He offered you a very subtle version of that dazzling smile of his, and you couldn't help but return in kind.

"I'm not going to apologize or kiss your ass or anything," you told him.

"That's fine," Bruce shrugged, "I didn't want you to."

You pondered your options.

You didn't know this man. But someone had called him Mr. Wayne, and now that you take a good look at him, he does look like the face gossip magazines and tabloids love to splatter on the cover. And he really did not look like he meant any harm.

And you really wanted a cup of coffee. "Alright, Mr. Placenta Cult Leader."

It did not take long for Bruce to fall in love with you, with your kindness, with your looks, with your beautiful personality. You always maintained that feisty attitude of yours, refusing to treat him or anyone in his world differently simply because you were now a part of it.

And Bruce loved it.

Loved how you couldn't care less what other socialite families thought of you, eating chocolate covered fruit after chocolate covered fruit at fundraisers, loved the way you latched onto him and "claimed" your property so to say whenever other women approached him and tried their luck (not that it would've worked, this man was whipped for you), telling other, more arrogant seniors off whenever they made judgements on yours, or Gotham forbid, Bruce.

But above all, he loved you,

And he made sure to show you just how much whenever possible. He wasn't the best with words, never had been, so he tried to show his devotions through actions. Breakfasts in bed, gentle caresses while you cuddled together on the couch, copies of your favourite books, soft kisses pressed against the hollow of your throat while he brought you to a climax with his fingers. Bruce would never stop showing you his love, for as long as he lived.

Alfred was very fond of you too.

The two of you had gotten along very well immediately after your first meeting, with Alfred telling you all sorts of embarrassing stories from Bruce's childhood. You laughed and replied in kind, and the two of you sort of teamed up to make his life a living hell (in the best way possible), teasing him to no end and cursing him with the worst jokes known to mankind.

Alfred too could see you were the one for his boss.

Saw it in the way Bruce looked at you, like everyone else in the world was gone and the only thing that mattered was the shine in your eyes. Saw it in the way he bent over to whisper sweet nothings into your ear that made you giggle out loud, just the way he saw Thomas Wayne do with his wife.

Saw it in the way Bruce paced holes into his study, pondering on what ring to get you. He bothered him to exhaustion that day, wondering about the colours you'd prefer, what size and shaped rock to get you, how, when, and where to propose.

"It has to be perfect, Alfred," he muttered, shaking his head and sighing incessantly. "I can't just pick any ring. It has to be meaningful. Her birthstone? No. No, absolutely not, that's lame. It's lame – it's dated. She wouldn't like it. Maybe she doesn't even like her birthstone. A diamond. A diamond! No. Out of the question. What if she doesn't like diamonds?"

"If I may give you a piece of advice, sir?" Alfred asked. However entertaining it was to see the mighty Bruce Wayne freak out over an engagement ring, this man was still his boy, and he couldn't bear to see him distressed. "If I recall, it was in your mother's will that her ring was to be stored and kept locked away in the possibility of her passing. I believe it is stored away in her old jewel box, as she was never buried with it. She wanted you to have it."

Bruce's eyes softened, as they often did at the mention of his parents.

"My mother's ring?" he asked to which Alfred nodded dutifully.

"It has been in your family for more than 6 generations now. Your mother wanted you to have it."

Some mixed feeling akin to grief and love passed through his eyes, and Bruce found himself staring at the floor. His mother's ring. A family heirloom, passed on from generation to generation. And now it was his. And would become yours. A million thoughts could've crossed through his mind. "Should I give something this important to her?" or "Is she the right person for this ring?" or maybe even "This is far too important. I need to think twice before making this decision".

But surprisingly, the only thought that came to him was "There is no one out there more deserving of this ring than her".

It was endearing, really, and Alfred Pennyworth was more than happy to see the boy he'd watched grow and loved as his own become his own man, and finally find the love he so much deserved.

When you got home on a warm May night and showed off your ring to him, smiling from ear to ear, eyes red and makeup slightly smudged from the tears you'd no doubt shed, he hugged you tightly and wished you all the best. He was sure the late Mr. and Mrs. Wayne would've loved you, and his eyes teared up at the thought.

Bruce caught sight of this and made his way towards the older man, worried that something might be wrong, the answer almost made him cry as well.

"It seemed like only yesterday I was patching your arm up after a rough fall, Master Wayne. And here you are today, carrying the legacy of your family, a man of your own, about to embark on this beautiful journey that's marriage. I am so very proud of the man you have become, and I'm sure your parents would too."

The two of them hugged warmly. Alfred was the only person besides you who got to see the more vulnerable side of Bruce – well, rather, you were the other person beside him. Having grown up with only his butler, Bruce saw him as a father figure. Sure, he'd never be able to replace his actual dad, but Bruce looked up and admired Alfred very much, considering him part of the family. No one seemed to care about him as much, and he was forever grateful.

That very night, you three toasted with champagne, sharing stories and anecdotes from Bruce's childhood, your relationship, and making plans for the future. And after Alfred had long retired for the night, Bruce took you in his arms, carried you off to his bedroom and made sure to remind you over and over again just how much he loved you.

After the engagement, Bruce told you about his double identity as Batman. You'd never suspected it – you were both responsible adults, each had your own job and errands to run. Not to mention that Bruce was the CEO of a whole company. To you, it was normal if he had to cancel one or two dates, or if you went a few days without seeing him. Sure, you missed him, and sometimes it made your heart ache, but you were a busy woman yourself, and always found yourself surrounded by things to do; hobbies, errands, work – you always had a lot going on, so Bruce's absence felt normal.

He was afraid you'd leave him, but in true you fashion, it just made you even more in love. The man you adored more than anything and wanted to spend the rest of your life with was the one keeping Gotham safe at night. You begged him there and then to show you all his cool gadgets, teach you how everything worked, and your mouth watered at the possibility of having sex in what you called "the Batcar".

"Batcar?" Bruce asked, cringing.

"No – that sounds terrible. Hmmm... Batengine?"

"It's called the Tumbler, and that's all. No Bat prefixes."

"No – no, it doesn't work like that. It needs a name. Oh. OH – Oh, holy fuck. Okay, get ready for this." You placed your hands in front of you, smiling. "You ready?"

"Just get on with it."

"I was just making sure you were ready. Okay listen. The Batmobile."

Bruce looked at you.

You looked at him.

Bruce looked at you.

You looked at him.

Bruce looked at you.

And then he made your wish come true, carrying you off towards the Batmobile.

Later, when you were curled up in his arms, you grinned, placing a cheeky kiss on his jaw.

"You're wearing the suit next time.”

Your engagement was happily lived.

You and Bruce tried to keep it a secret for as long as you could, wanting to enjoy some time together away from the prying eyes of Gotham, but as soon as one photographer caught you taking a spoon to your lips, and the beautiful diamond ring caught in the light, it was over.

“So much for privacy,” you muttered, collapsing on your couch, gripping the latest gossip magazine. The words “WAYNE HEIR TO FINALLY SETTLE! Billionaire playboy finally tamed!?” were plastered on the cover, as well as a big picture of you hiding your face with your left hand as Bruce brought you close to him. “I wonder if they’ll ever leave us alone.”

“Probably not. You’ll get used to it; it comes with the name.” Bruce kissed the top of your head, handing you a cup of coffee. You smiled and sat up straight, taking a sip from it and humming in delight.

“This is real good. Did Alfred make it?”

“Why is it so hard to believe that I would make a good cup of coffee?” Your fiancé asked, sitting beside you. One hand snaked around your waist and brought you closer, and the other softly flicked your nose.

“You burned the coffee beans last time you tried. I don’t even know how that’s possible, Bruce,” you sighed.

“I did my best.” Was his response.

“Maybe stick to being Bruce Wayne by day, and Batman by night. I love a good alliteration, but you were not meant to be a barista.”

Bruce chuckled and kissed you, tasting the sweet coffee off your lips. He hummed, gazing at you through his dark lashes.

“You’re right, this is good. Most likely wasn’t made by me.”

“It definitely wasn’t made by you.”

“You are such a hater,” Bruce sighed, playfully kissing your nose. “I’m never making you any more coffee from now on.”

Your eyes lit up and you smiled at him jokingly.

“Is that a promise?”

Bruce just shook his head and bent down to kiss you. You smiled against his lips, and he took the opportunity to give your waist a good squeeze, causing you to flinch.

“Stop that! I’m going to spill this all over the couch!”

“Wouldn’t be the first time – I recall someone spilling coffee all over me and somehow making it my fault,” Bruce joked, raising a quizzical brow. You smiled fondly at the memory. It was your favourite story to tell.

“You weren’t watching your step. It wasn’t my fault.”

“You bumped into me.”

“No, you bumped into me because you weren’t paying attention. And then you made me spill your coffee all over you.” You smiled and kissed him again. When you pulled away, you felt him chase after you, capturing your lips with his own once again.

Brushing his lips against yours, he murmured, “And I’m glad I did. I got to meet the love of my life that way.”

“You’re so corny, Bruce Wayne. I wonder what the public would think of you if they saw you like this.”

“I don’t care what the public thinks of me as long as you’re by my side.”

You smiled, and so did he. Truer words had never been spoken.

Now that you knew he was Batman, you worried more often.

What before was considered simply a “busy night for Mr. CEO” was now “night out in Gotham, fighting criminals and possibly getting injured”. You found yourself pacing circles around your bedroom, biting on your nails, and hoping that Bruce would come home soon.

You’d asked Alfred for some tips – how could he appear so relaxed knowing that the boy he treated as his own son was out there, doing what he did? Knowing that he put himself in the face of danger so often and sometimes with no regard for his own life?

“It’s hard, Miss,” he told you over a warm cup of tea. “But in the end, Master Wayne knows what he is doing. And now he has one more reason to get back home safely. Everything will be alright.”

And thankfully, he usually did.

You two had a sort of unspoken deal.

Bruce would always wake you up whenever he returned, even if just to let you know he was safe and home. Sometimes, you’d wake up, insisting on checking him for bruises and marks, and even going as far as patching them up.

“The kitchen has better lighting, c’mon,” you mumbled, voice still coated in exhaustion. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, yawning as you made your way towards the kitchen to deal with his bruises. It was routine, at this point. Bruce sat down, you opened your first-aid kit, you two had a snack and went back to bed. It was domestic, in a way. Not really something a regular couple would do, but you and Bruce had never really been regular.

“You’re lucky that one isn’t big,” you said, pointing towards the purple bruise forming on top of his right pectoral. You’d seen worse – sometimes he came home with bullet wounds, or deep gashes on his skin. Not that this was any more reassuring, but you were just glad that compared to other nights, he didn’t seem to be suffering too much. “It should heal in a few days, as long as you keep applying the cream.”

“What would I do without you?” he asked, with a soft smile. This is how you knew Bruce had truly returned home. Some nights he’d be far too tired to speak, choosing to kiss you and softly touch you to remind you of his love. Others, he would lock himself up in the Batcave, somehow convinced he wasn’t worthy of you. Of course you offered to talk to him, to help carry his burdens, but he never wanted to drag you into that side of his life, so most of the time, he would keep to himself.

Right now, though, he seemed to be doing fine. He told you patrol was rather easy, there were no major criminals out, and that nothing was wrong. His smiles and chuckles meant that Bruce, your Bruce was back.

“I don’t know,” you said, moving to open the fridge. As soon as you did, you turned away from it and gagged. “Shit – that’s disgusting,” you said, closing the door and shaking your head.

“What?” Bruce turned to you. “Is there something wrong?”

“I think there must be something rotten in here, it smells foul. Fuck, it smells so disgusting, I think I’m going to vomit,” you mumbled, moving away from the fridge as quickly as you could. Bruce got up right after and carefully opened the door. Nothing. Nothing seemed to smell rotten – nor it would make any sense if it did. Alfred was always on top of groceries, and never in his life he recalled a moment where something was rotten or went to waste.

“Are you sure?” he asked, turning to you. “I can’t smell anything bad.” Searching through the items, he opened and closed lids, smelling whatever was inside. Everything seemed to be intact.

“Are you serious? It smells disgusting – close that door!”

“Honey, I can’t find anything in here that smells bad. Maybe you’re just sensitive or something.” Bruce closed the door and walked towards you, wrapping you around his arms. “We should go to sleep. It’s late.”

You nodded into his chest and allowed him to carry you back to bed.

As you drifted off to sleep, you thought of how nice it would be if every single day was like this – patrol-wise. Bruce would come home with barely any scratches, you’d take care of him in about 10 minutes, and before you knew it, you’d be back in bed, hugging him tightly against you.

Unfortunately, the future held other plans.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t The Dark Knight himself,” a very familiar voice said.

Bruce turned around and faced the familiar mask of the Scarecrow, the man he knew to be Dr. Jonathan Crane. And he seemed to be in top shape – last time he’d seen the bastard, he was mumbling incoherently and out of his mind. How he’d gotten himself out of Arkham, Bruce had no idea, but he was sure to send him back there in no time.

“Crane.” Bruce said, ready to fight at any time. He knew Crane used a special toxin to induce fear in his enemies, and although he was immune to it, he had no idea what other people he’d convinced to do his dirty work. Had no idea if he should suspect any surprise attacks and did not want to take chances.

“You know, it’s funny that I find you here, especially after all the… studying I was doing just last night.” Crane paced around the alley, trying to get Bruce’s – the Batman’s – attention. “I was thinking, what is the big bad bat afraid of?” Placing a hand on his chin, he pretended to be deep in thought.

“Cut the crap Crane,” Bruce all but spat, “What do you want?”

Crane – the Scarecrow – however, did not seem in the mood to stop.

“At first, I couldn’t quite get it. After all, you’re just a man,” Crane put extra emphasis on his words. Bruce saw right through him. He wasn’t the first one who tried to make him feel helpless. “But then, it hit me.”

The Scarecrow kept walking around, weaving a narrative to get into Bruce’s head. The latter one stood his ground. He had half a mind to slam Crane against the nearest wall and just hand him over to the authorities, who’d already been called and were on their way, but part of him wanted to hear whatever the maniac had to say.

He shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t, but something inside him stirred. Crane looked carefree, relaxed. What had he done?

“Tell me, Bruce,” he said the name with a twisted kind of glee, something that made Bruce’s stomach drop unpleasantly. “Does it worry you when you leave your poor little wife all alone in your Manor? Knowing that anyone could get to her, knowing that she’s defenceless without you to protect her?”

What?

How did he know about him?

Most importantly, how did he know about you? Had he investigated you? Put the pieces together? Had Bruce accidentally left any sort of clue that led him to make the connection?

“Ah – right,” Crane said, removing his mask and offering Bruce a sadistic smile, “You thought no one would figure out your little secret, would you, Batman? How unfortunate.”

In about a second, Bruce was close to Crane, gripping him by the collar of his shirt.

“What have you done to her!?” He snapped, anger clouding his judgement.

“Ah, ah, ah! Now, don’t be crass, Bruce, we’re both respected men and can do this the hard way or the easy way. And I would hate for someone to find out your little secret. Wouldn’t you agree?” The man smiled mockingly, making Bruce’s blood boil.

“Who knows!? Who have you told?” he roared. All judgement and common sense had jumped off the window. Bruce remembered his training; remembered how he was told to keep his emotions at bay. Use his head, not his heart.

“This is where things get complicated now, Batman.” Crane spoke calmly. “I’m the only one who’s aware of your little secret.” Bruce almost sighed in relief. “But that can easily change. Help me get what I want, and I won’t tell a soul. Do anything to stop me, and I’ll let the whole world know who’s hiding under the mask. And believe me – every Arkham inmate would like to know.”

Bruce lowered the Scarecrow onto the ground, breathing heavily. Jonathan Crane knew his identity, knew who he was, where he lived, knew who his wife was. If he didn’t play this correctly, you’d be in great danger.

Reaching towards his pocket, Crane pulled out a small phone.

“In here, I have all the information about you, and the Missus. If you cross me, call for backup, or do anything that would sabotage my plan, I’m sending this file to every phone in Arkham City.”

Bruce weighed his options. He had to be careful. Get the phone out of Crane’s hands, lock him up –

A loud gunshot could be heard through the alley, and the man with the mask in his hand fell on the ground. It took a while for Bruce to understand what was going on, but Jim Gordon’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“I didn’t say you could shoot –“

“Sargeant, we’ve been after Crane for months now, I wasn’t going to let him go this easily!” A younger man in a GCPD office called out, moving towards Bruce and the now dead body lying on the floor.

Jonathan Crane was dead. The Scarecrow was dead. The only person who knew his secret was now dead. Instinctively, he bent down to pry the phone from the dead man’s hands. With a few clicks, he realised he wasn’t bluffing. A message with a large file entitled THE BAT was ready to be sent at any time. Bruce deleted the thing and destroyed the phone with his bare hands.

That had been close.

Too close.

The GCPD had killed Crane, and while normally Bruce would be against the killing policy, part of him kept thanking whatever inexperienced officer had decided to shoot him.

That was too close.

Crane had said no one else knew of his identity. What if he was bluffing? What if the phone was just a means to threaten him, meanwhile, everyone back in Arkham already knew?

“You okay?” Bruce turned to look at Jim Gordon’s worried expression. “It’s not often we see the Batman worried.”

“He knew who I am.”

Gordon took a step back – quite literally – eyes wide as he put his hands on his hips.

“Did he now?”

“He was going to tell everyone in Arkham City should I not help him along with his plan.”

Both men remained silent, staring at each other, before Gordon turned to look at his officers.

“I know you stick to your no-killing policy, but maybe this one was for the – “

The Batman was gone.

“ – Best.”

He’d spent the night at the cave, terrified to return to you.

What was he going to do?

Jonathan Crane had found out about him, so who’s to say someone else wouldn’t? Sure, the average criminal could not simply put together that he was Bruce Wayne, but there were always going to be people like Crane, who held big grudges and had a very high intellect.

It was simply a matter of time before someone else found out about you.

And Bruce couldn’t have that.

He ran Crane’s words over and over again in his head.

Does it worry you when you leave your poor little wife all alone in your Manor? Knowing that anyone could get to her, knowing that she’s defenceless without you to protect her?

He was right. While he was out at night, protecting the city, you were at home, with no one to protect you. He couldn’t bring you along – that was out of the question. And he couldn’t confine you to some secluded area. He knew you’d get upset that he was treating you like a baby, assuring him you could take care of yourself just fine.

You couldn’t.

Bruce had to protect you. He had to keep you safe, out of harm’s and criminal’s ways. Tonight, it was Crane, merely threatening to tell everyone about you. Tomorrow, it could be someone doing good on their promise.

He tried hard to think of what to do.

And the only idea that seemed like it could work, made his heart ache immensely.

He loved you. He loved you more than what he could possibly say. It tore him apart to be away from you, it broke him to simply think of hurting you.

And yet, it would keep you safe.

Bruce loved you.

So, so much.

He loved you so very much, that he was willing to do whatever he had to keep you safe from harm.

It would break his heart, yes. And yours too, surely. But after tonight, he couldn’t risk it. He would go the lengths of the earth to keep you safe and sound. He made his way towards the Manor and thought over his plan.

There was no way you’d believe him if he ever told you he did not love you. No, that wouldn’t work. You knew him far too well to know when he was lying.

He couldn’t say he was trying to protect you either. One thing he loved the most about you, was your stubbornness. If he told you all he was trying to do was keep you safe, you’d laugh in his face and promise you some measly criminals did not phase you. It warmed his heart, in a way, to know you’d stick with him through thick and thin, but it also made him worry.

What could he possibly do to keep you away from him?

And that’s when it hit him.

You had to see it.

It wasn’t an ideal solution – hell, he didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to even think about it. But if it would keep you safe? Bruce was willing to give it a try.

You’d gotten home earlier from work. Bruce knew this. You were supposed to get home around 6 and a half on Tuesdays, but it was currently 6 and you were already hanging your coat by the door.

“Good afternoon, Miss.” Alfred said with a polite nod, hurrying to your side. “You’re home earlier than expected.” A lie. Bruce had spoken to your coworkers earlier, and they’d told him you’d be off work sooner than expected. Alfred was in on the whole plan as well. It didn’t please him one bit, but he knew once Bruce got an idea, he would go through it until the very end.

“I told you to stop with the ‘Miss’, Alfred, my name is fine. It’s been fine for four years, and I’m sure it’ll be fine for the rest of our lives.” You smiled at him. You’d been trying to get Alfred to use your name for all the years you’d been dating Bruce, but to no avail.

“I’m sorry Miss,” he replied. “Old habits die hard. And please, allow me. It’s part of my job.”

“You’re family, Alfred. What would it take for you to call me by my name?”

“A handsome raise by Master Wayne.”

“I’ll see that he takes care of it right away.”

Alfred smiled as you turned to make your way towards the bedroom, and when you were no longer facing him, your expression turned to one of sadness. Was this really what it had come to? Was he about to go on with this?

He didn’t want to, but there was no way he was going against his boss’s rules.

Alfred sighed sadly, before following you.

“I’m afraid Master Wayne is busy.”

“Oh,” you hummed, “It’s okay. I’ll just wait for him to return.” You continued walking.

“No, Miss – he’s in his office. He’s told me not to disturb him, nor let anyone do it, since he’s working on some very important projects for Wayne Enterprises.”

Weird. Bruce never shut you out, even when he was busy. Sure, he might have things to do, but he would always keep his door open should you want to talk to him, or just kiss him.

“Well, that’s fine, I’ll just say hello to him and go take a shower.” You offered Alfred a smile and turned to instead walk towards Bruce’s office. “Did he tell you what work? He never mentioned anything about a project. Is it new?”

“I’m not sure Miss.” Alfred said, his heart beating slightly faster now that you approached the office’s door. He knew exactly what to expect once you opened the door, but it didn’t really make it easier. “He told me he was going to be busy all afternoon, told me not to go in, and closed the door.”

“Weird. Are you sure he’s alright?”

“I suppose so, Miss.”

You furrowed a brow. Odd. And it’s not like he told you anything at all – letting you know he’d be busy or working up until late.

“That’s alright, Alfred. I’ll go check up on him. He must be really tired,” You said, and approached the door. And now, you were even more confused than ever. Weird sounds were coming from inside the office. You could make out two voices – Bruce’s, of course (you’d know his voice from a mile away), and a female one.

What in the world could Bruce be possibly doing behind locked doors with a woman?

You stilled, straining your ears to better make out the noises coming from inside. And you flushed deep red once the realisation hit you. Grunting, groaning, moaning.

No.

It couldn’t be, now, could it? There was no way.

You turned around to face Alfred, whose face seemed to go white as a sheet of paper.

“Y-You said he locked himself inside and sent you away?” You asked.

“Yes, Miss.”

“O-Okay.” You mumbled, facing the door.

The voices got louder. The female voice got higher and shriller, and tears clouded your vision. You mustered up all the courage you could find in yourself, and burst the door open, gasping loudly at the scene before you.

A naked woman was lying on top of your fiancé’s desk, cheeks flushed and hands desperately clawing at his back – Bruce’s back. He was on top of her, hand hidden in the crook of her neck as he groaned, rutting faster against her.

You stilled in your place, completely paralyzed. There were no possible words to describe what you were feeling now. Anger? Heartbreak? Sadness?

The woman let out a loud moan and wrapped her legs tighter around him.

“You like that?” Bruce grunted, lifting his head to look at the woman, who replied with another broken moan and a tug of his hair.

“Bruce?” you said, heart breaking in a million pieces.

He looked up. Really looked up, staring into your eyes. Inside him, something broke as well. He was doing this for your own good. For your safety. He had to keep you away, had to give you the life he knew you couldn’t have as his wife. It was too dangerous.

“Fuck,” he muttered, quickly getting away from the woman on the desk. He stared at you, dumbfounded, scrambling around to quickly get his clothes.

“Hey – hey – what are you doing?” The woman asked, looking at him, before turning to you and her eyes widened. “Oh!”

You scoffed, looking in between the two, and stormed away, tears running down your cheeks.

“Honey!” Bruce called. He quickly managed to put on a pair of pants, and ran after you, heart pounding in his chest. You were mad. This was really happening. He was going to forever ruin the greatest thing that had ever happened to him, and all because of the Batman. He’d betrayed you and broken your heart.

But it was for your own good.

“I can’t believe this,” you said through gritted teeth, walking towards your bedroom and slamming the door shut behind you. Bruce was able to catch it right before it shut closed, and the expression in your face was sure to haunt him forever. Your lovely eyes, usually bright and lively, were dull and red. Your tear-streaked face was something Bruce had never wanted to see in his life – at least not when it pertained to something bad.

“Honey, please, it’s not what it looks like.” He pleaded, walking towards you.

You were quick to move aside.

“Don’t give me that not what it looks like bullshit! I saw you Bruce – God damn it, I saw you with another woman.” You said, trying to remain calm, but failing miserably. “How could you!?”

“Look, darling, if you could just let me explain –“

“Oh! Explain!” You hurried inside the closet, fetching one of your travel suitcases. There was no way you were staying inside this house – his house – any longer. You needed to get out. Needed fresh air, needed to get away from him. “What is there to explain? How you were balls deep inside some woman you’ve found somewhere? Oh, really nice, Bruce, lovely explanation!”

“You have to understand –“ Bruce explained, in between shallow breaths. “You weren’t supposed to find out, you were supposed to be at work.”

“Ah, yes. Of course I wasn’t supposed to find out.” You scoffed and busied yourself with throwing clothes inside your suitcase. “That much I know.”

“I’m sorry – “

“I’m sure you are.”

“I didn’t want it to come to this!” Bruce snapped, and you finally turned to him.

“Come to this?” Your voice was low, frail, frightened. Fuck. What was he doing? What was Bruce doing? Was this worth ruining your relationship over? Yes. Yes – of course it did. If it meant you’d be safe. Everything was worth it if you were safe.

You’d have your heart broken, yes. But in a few months, maybe years, you’d find someone else. A nice, normal man, with no secret identities and no secret life. You’d find a nice man and settle down. He would give you all his time, worship you like you deserved to be worshipped. Would take care of you and love you, and never put you in danger.

And you’d be happy. You’d be so happy; you’d have long forgotten about the asshole Bruce Wayne, who’d cheated on you and broke your heart.

“Yes, come to this.” He repeated. “You weren’t supposed to find out. I was supposed to have ended this long ago, and yet I let go for far too long.” Bruce tried to force some venom, some harshness into his words. He wasn’t used to talking like this to you, nor did he want to – but he had to try.

“What do you mean?” The clothes in your hands were long forgotten, and you just stared at him, like a deer caught in the headlights.

“I just – look, I hate to do this right now, and in these circumstances, but…”

“But?”

“We can’t be together anymore.”

Your eyes widened. What?

“I can’t keep lying to you. I don’t love you anymore.”

These words hit you like a truck.

Didn’t love you anymore?

“What?”

“That’s right.” Bruce sighed, trying to keep his composure. “This relationship is a mistake. You’re holding me back, and I just don’t love you anymore.” His voice was devoid of any emotion, while inside, he could feel everything slipping out of control. He loved you. How could he say such things? How were such words leaving his mouth?

“You – you don’t love me anymore?” You asked, eyes tearing up once more. Your breaths were coming in shallow; you couldn’t breathe, nor believe the stuff you were hearing.

“I don’t. I’ve been miserable – miserable – in this relationship,” He said your name, running a finger through his already unkempt hair. “I can’t keep pretending to be someone I’m not. Propose, settle down, get married – I can’t do it. I don’t see a future with you anymore. Please, you can’t tell me you haven’t felt the same!”

“No! I can’t!” You didn’t sound like yourself. You sounded sad, broken, out of breath, completely terrified. You thought your life with Bruce was going very well. You loved him, and he loved you. Yeah, okay, maybe he had some more work to take care of as of late, but that didn’t warrant a breakup. Did it? “We – we’ve been so happy, Bruce!”

“Fuck – I don’t love you anymore! This, this – this relationship is killing me here! I can’t keep on doing this, can’t wake up and pretend to be your Brucie, or a family man, or God forbid, someday your husband!” Bruce was fighting hard to keep his emotions away from this. Instead, he channelled all that energy into pretending to be angry with you. He put all the anger he felt towards the outside world and every criminal in Gotham, into this fake argument.

And by the look of your face, he was doing a good job.

“How… How long have you been doing this?” You whispered. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answer. Weren’t sure if you wanted to know how long your husband had been betraying you, sleeping with some other woman. Or women. It made you nauseous just to think of that.

“I…”

“Just tell me, Bruce!”

Bruce sighed, looking away.

“Three months.”

A choked sob was ripped from your throat, and you grabbed the nearest thing – a shoebox – raising it above your head. There were a million thoughts racing through your head, a million emotions plaguing your mind. But before you could throw the damned box at his head, you ran into the nearest bathroom, puking your guts out.

The whole situation made you nauseous alright.

As soon as you’d puked whatever you had to, you got up, washing your mouth and your teeth. Then, you turned to Bruce. He was standing in the middle of your bedroom, looking at you with a mixture of sorrow, disgust, and something else you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

You couldn’t stare at him any longer.

“I’d appreciate it if you left the Manor until the end of the day,” he said, looking at the ground. “I would like the master bedroom to be clean of your things.”

How could he speak like this? How could he say all of this after everything you two shared? Every word, every kiss, every touch? Had it not meant anything to him? Clearly not, by the way he was behaving.

You wiped your tears (unsuccessfully, since they just kept on rolling down your cheeks), and walked towards your closet, proceeding to stuff your clothes inside the suitcase. Just as you were about to shut your first suitcase, Bruce interrupted you.

“I’ll have someone else take to you the rest of your things. Just take that right now.”

You stood up, turning to him. First, he cheated on you, then he admitted to not loving you, then he broke up with you, and now he was kicking you out at full force.

You sneered.

“Where the hell am I supposed to stay, then? I live here.”

“Lived. Not live. You don’t live here anymore. Just get a hotel room somewhere, I’ll pay for it. But you have to go.”

“Why? So you can go back to fucking your new girlfriend?”

“Precisely.” The bite in his words shocked you.

There were no words. No words beside three little things you’d never thought you’d utter at the man standing before you.

“I hate you. I hate you, Bruce Wayne.” You said, tears cascading down your cheeks and marring your so lovely face. “Everyone warned me about you, but I didn’t listen. I was too in love with you to care about what anyone said.”

Bruce still refused to meet your gaze. He was sure that if he did, he’d break down too. And he was close, too close to let all of this go to waste.

“Should’ve listened to them.” You whispered.

And walked out, suitcase in hand.

“Alfred, make sure you take her – “

“I’ll see to it myself, thanks. I don’t need your help.”

With these words, you were out the door, and out of Bruce’s life.

As soon as you were no longer in vision, Bruce broke down.

He sat on his bed, hiding his face in his hands. You were truly gone. Forever. He’d done what he had to, and now you were gone. It was for the best, yeah, but that’s not to say it didn’t hurt.

Alfred quietly walked into the room. The sight of his boss leaning forward, looking absolutely miserable was a low blow. Finally, he’d found a source of happiness, of peace, of solace. Finally, he’d get to see his boy grow up, start his own family.

But all of that was over now.

He wouldn’t be there to walk you down the aisle and congratulate Bruce on his wedding day. He wouldn’t be there to see him drop to his knees when he found out you were carrying his child. He wouldn’t get to teach Bruce all the little hacks he learned from caring for him as a baby, wouldn’t get to tell your child the charming love story his parents had.

Master Wayne was miserable before you.

He was sure he’d get worse now.

“Master Wayne, I’ve sent Miss Roberts on her way.” He said quietly, standing on the doorway.

“Did you pay her?”

“Yes.”

“Enough?”

“She won’t tell a soul.”

The two men remained in silent for a while. Alfred did not know what to say. He understood where Bruce was coming from. He’d tried to talk some sense into his young master’s head, but to no avail – Bruce was going through with this madness and that was it. He’d tried telling him it wouldn’t matter; you loved him and would remain by his side forever, but he wouldn’t hear it.

In his head, this was the only solution.

“She’s going to be fine,” Bruce mumbled, dropping his hands, and looking at the ground.

“You’ve broken her heart, sir.” Alfred replied.

“She’ll be fine, Alfred,” Bruce retorted harshly. “She’ll go on with her life, forget about me, and she will be safe and that’s why we’re doing this – so she’s safe!”

The older man closed his mouth. There was nothing else he could do or say. It was done, and there was no turning back.

“Will you be fine, Master Wayne?” he asked at last.

Bruce did not answer right away. He shook his head, and Alfred swore he could make out the shape of his shoulders shaking ever so slightly – was he crying?

After a few moments, Bruce finally managed to calm himself. He took a deep breath, quickly wiped away any tears that might’ve escaped, and nodded, still avoiding his butler’s gaze.

“I will be. All that matters is that she’s safe. I’ll learn to be fine.”

“Is there anything you wish, sir?”

“No, you’re dismissed.”

And so, Alfred walked away, leaving Bruce to think the last few minutes over.

He’d lost you, sure.

But he would keep an eye on you from afar. Protect you from a distance. Make sure you were doing alright and that no harm had come to you. He’d be a silent protector.

And although he was hurting, he would bottle up his emotions.

Nothing else mattered, as long as you were safe.

But keeping tabs on you had proved to be quite harder than what Bruce expected.

You’d gone completely off the map, off-grid. You’d forsaken social media and most electronics and were doing a fantastic job of keeping away from his prying eyes. He knew for a fact you’d left Gotham, but to where, he did not know exactly. His sources told him you’d probably changed your identity, not wanting to be seen as Bruce Wayne’s ex-girlfriend anymore, wanting a life of your own.

At first, Bruce was terrified.

If you changed your identity and moved away, how was he supposed to protect you? This whole thing was meant to keep you safe – how was he supposed to live without knowing if all of his and your suffering had been in vain?

“Master Wayne, I understand your concern for the Miss’s well-being.” Alfred had told him one night as Bruce was drowning his sorrows in some very-expensive liquor. “But sometimes, we must respect the choices people make for their own safety.”

“What if something happens to her, Alfred?” Bruce asked, voice raspy from exhaustion and the drink. “What if she’s in danger and I can’t reach her? What if this whole thing was for nothing?”

“Sir, part of caring for someone is respecting their decisions. Dr. Jonathan Crane is long gone, and you yourself told me the information he had died with him. There is no one after you or the ones you love anymore. And most important, there is no one after her. If she’s changed her name, it only means she’ll be safer.”

Bruce sighed. Alfred was right to some extent – as he usually was. Crane was dead, and he hadn’t told anyone about you. Changing your name and your identity would probably keep you even safer.

“I loved her, Alfred. I still do.”

“I know, Master Wayne. I did too.” Alfred sighed, placing a comforting hand on the young man’s shoulder. “But you did what had to be done, now, didn’t you? You said it yourself. She is safe, and that’s all that matters.”

Bruce tried to follow that mentality.

For months, he tried to forget you.

Unfortunately, not only had you wormed your way into his heart, you’d done the same thing to his mind. He would wake up in the middle of the night sometimes, swearing he could feel your lingering touch, hear your heavenly voice.

During meetings, all he could think of was how you’d usually send him funny texts and memes you found on your lunch breaks. He no longer got your calls, telling him all about the gossip you’d heard at your workplace, and how much you missed him.

The manor felt empty without your touch, your laughter, your presence. Just the mere existence of your toothbrush was enough to calm him down, to remind him you were there, and real, and his.

But he was left with nothing.

You’d gone, and with you, taken his heart.

And yet, despite all the pain, all the heartbreak, life went on.

Days passed; seasons changed.

The daily cycle continued, interrupted.

The sun rose and the sun set, a small reminder that life waited for no one. Alfred told him many times that he couldn’t dwell on the past, and while he tried to, it was hard.

Winter became spring, spring became summer.

And Bruce Wayne’s heart remained unmended.

He tried to move on – really, he did. But he wasn’t quite sure he’d achieved it. He didn’t think of you as much anymore, but he also didn’t think of much else. It was as if he was numb to the outside world, going about his daily routine as Bruce Wayne and his nightly duties as Batman automatically.

It was as if he was on autopilot. Charity galas were boring without you to make fun of everyone, fundraisers sucked if you couldn’t talk to whoever was interesting and get him to have a good time.

Life went on, but it was as if his had paused.

Alfred did his best to keep him in check. Did not allow him to go without any meals, made sure he attended whatever events he had to, and patched him up after rough patrols. He too missed your presence but knew better not to mention it to his boss. All he wanted was for the young master to go back to the person he once was.

One day, he was on his way to Wayne Enterprises. It was late in the morning, but as the CEO of the company, he could afford to be late once or twice. Not only that, but it was also only natural for Bruce Wayne to be fashionably late – even if it was to his own job.

The car suddenly came to a halt. Something underneath Bruce seemed to deflate, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Alfred?” he asked, closing his newspaper.

“I’m sorry sir, there seems to be something wrong with the tires. Perhaps you could go out and check?” The butler replied with a cheeky grin.

“Don’t I pay you enough for that?”

“Not nearly, sir.”

“How unfortunate. Well, I’m quite comfortable here, so why don’t you check it yourself?”

Alfred nodded with a small smile and exited the car.

After around 5 minutes, he looked inside the limo and sighed.

“I’m sorry sir, but we have a flat tire. But we also don’t have a spare one in the trunk, so I’ll have to call someone.”

“Really?”

“Really, sir. I’m sorry.”

Bruce shook his head, waving his newspaper dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just go by foot.”

“Are you sure, sir? It’s still a few blocks away. Perhaps we should wait until someone comes to fix it. And what if something happens to you?”

Bruce gave his butler a pointed look, raising an eyebrow, to which the older man just sighed.

“Alright, fine, you stubborn, stubborn man.”

Bruce chuckled and exited the limo, quickly making his way down the street.

It would be good, clear his head of all the torment. Walking gave him peace, made his mind feel at ease. It was as if a burden as lifted off his shoulders, even if momentarily.

Unfortunately, this respite did not last long.

He was busy looking around himself – eyes trailing the balconies of older Gotham buildings, taking in every person, every door, every window, every life that lives inside each apartment – to notice the figures before him.

But once he was content with the things he’d seen (and decided to organise some sort of charity event, since his city needed him, especially the older streets, with decaying buildings and lives he were sure must be hanging by a thread), he looked up.

And what he saw stole his breath away.

You were standing a few meters away from him, pointing at a shopwindow that had caught your eye. A friend stood by your side; arm linked with yours. He couldn’t care less about her, eyes focused on you, on the big summer hat resting on top of your head and providing shade to your face, on the beautiful smile you wore, on the way your lips moved as you spoke animatedly, on the lovely white dress you adorned.

But most importantly, his eyes were focused on the pretty swell of your belly, and on how one of your hands cupped it lovingly, and the other trailed circles on top of it. He eyed the swell of your breasts that had grown larger, the way your entire being seemed to glow. Not from the sun, just entirely from you.

Bruce stopped dead in his tracks.

You were back. Back in Gotham, back in his life, back to him.

Don’t be an idiot – surely, she’s not back for you.

And how beautiful you looked, hand protectively over your belly. How dazzling, how breathtaking, how shining.

Without even realising it, Bruce stepped forward, eyes glued on your figure. You didn’t seem to notice him, still paying attention to the store in front of you. He could make out the small chatter you were having with your friend – and how much he’d missed the sound of your voice, the lovely musicality of your laughter – it made him feel lighter, fuller, happier.

“I like the blue one,” you said, turning to your friend, “And it’s rather big, so I’m sure he’ll grow into it.”

Your friend seemed to agree with you, “It’ll last for a few months, yeah. But the yellow one is pretty too, don’t you think?”

“Please. A Batman onesie? The last thing I want is my son to wear one of those. He won’t even know who he is, anyway, it’s not like I’m raising him here.” You scoffed.

The girl you were with chuckled, and only then did she notice Bruce, standing far too close.

“Um,” she poked your arm, and you turned to him.

It was as if the whole world faded away.

Your whole story played on your head. Your first meeting, spilling coffee all over his shirt, having a coffee bought by him, the countless dates you went on, dating, moving in together, living what you thought were your happiest years ever, getting proposed to, and eventually finding your husband fucking someone else.

You quickly dropped your gaze to your stomach before looking at him once again and taking a step back. It was stronger than you, an instinct to get away from this man as soon as possible.

"Hey," the words were tumbling out of Bruce's mouth before he could control himself.

When you didn't reply, he took another step forward, making you step back again.

"I have nothing to say to you," you mumbled, looking at your friend. You whispered a quick "let's go” to her and turned on your back to leave. Before you could do it, the man called out your name. You could hear the desperation in his voice, the worry, the heartbreak, the grief.

Tch, you thought, what is there for him to grieve? You're the one who lost your relationship, your home, the chance for your child to meet his father.

"Please, listen to me," he said, and you saw in his face such vulnerability it scared you. You didn't remember the last time you'd seen Bruce like this, face looking as if he was holding on by a threat.

You were that thread, Bruce thought to himself.

"Did you not hear her?" Your friend came to your rescue, hand protectively over your shoulders. "She doesn't want to talk to you. Now leave it."

Bruce wondered if she knew him. If she knew what he'd done. Had you told anyone? Had you kept it a secret? Might've been hard to do so – after all, tabloids had loved to exploit his breakup, plastering it all over every cover of ever magazine in Gotham. He'd paid them off to spare you from the spotlight and public eye, but it was too late. People had already begun talking; and what they were saying wasn't polite at all.

"You need to listen to me," he said softly, "You need to listen to what I have to say."

What was he doing? What was he saying? He shouldn't even be talking to you, should be keeping his distance like he'd been doing the past few months. His head told him to stay away – to turn around, go back to the pain and the sulking and the sleepless nights between empty sheets. But his heart was reaching towards you, hoping so desperately that you'd reach out too and save him from the torment he'd been living.

He knew he had no right doing this. He'd hurt you terribly – but it'd been for a good reason, no? He'd kept you safe long enough, hadn't he?

Was it selfish of him to want you back?

Because he did – desperately so. He missed your warmth and your touch. He missed your smiles in the morning and your giggles in the evening. He missed the way you scrunched your nose whenever you took a sip out of his coffee – black with one sugar. He missed the way you walked around with nothing but his shirts on when Alfred was out, teasing him to no end and relishing in the way Bruce's breath hitched when his eyes landed upon you.

But most of all, he missed the way you always comforted him and promised everything would be alright. He missed your tender touch and your warm embrace. Missed your love, and the effect it had on him.

He needed you back.

That much was certain, and he had no doubts about it.

He couldn't bear to be without you any longer. He would keep you safe – God damn it, he would, even if it was the last thing he ever did, but he couldn't be without you anymore. He couldn't live his days inside a Manor that seemed so dull without your shine, eat at a table that seemed so quiet without your chatter, and sleep in a bed that seemed so cold without your body next to his.

Your voice broke him out of his thoughts.

"There's nothing you could say to me that I would possibly want to listen," you said. But your heart was hammering in your chest, and you were sure if he were to strain his ears just a bit, he'd listen to how fast it was racing. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have places to be."

Bruce's heart fell. He was about to lose you again. He couldn't. His hand dropped to yours, and he held it tightly in between his palms.

"Please," he all but begged, "Just listen to what I have to say. And if you don't care about it, if you don't like what you hear, if you want to go, I'll let you."

"I don't care. Happy? Now let me go."

"Please."

The way he said it made your heart churn. His face was the epitome of heart break, eyes sagged, with deep dark bags under them. You knew Bruce hardly got any sleep as Batman, but this seemed too much. And there was something about the way he looked at you, as if you were some sort of mirage that could disappear within seconds.

You couldn't quite tell what it was. Perhaps it was your hormones feeling nostalgic. Perhaps it was curiosity, making you wonder what the hell he had to say to you that's so important.

Your brain yelled at you though, telling you to stay away from him. This man had ruined your life, used you and thrown you aside. You had no use for him. You deserved better.

And yet, your heart still yearned for him. You couldn't lie – as soon as you laid your eyes on him, it did a little flip, at it usually did.

As it used to do. Not anymore. You're not his anymore.

"Fine," you mumbled, shaking your head. "But not now. I'm busy."

"Yes, yes, of course," he said, nodding desperately. "When can you meet me? Tomorrow? Is tomorrow okay? Is it too soon?"

It's not soon enough, you thought. You really did not have anything else to do today but thought it better not to tell him. You couldn't give him all you wanted at once – you were afraid your poor heart couldn't take it.

Still, something inside you couldn't hide how much your heart still wanted him.

"Tomorrow is fine."

"Great, great. 4 in the afternoon? I could have Alfred pour us something? Maybe a few biscuits?"

It was endearing, how desperate he seemed to get you to sit with him. It was cute.

Stop it. He's not "cute", he ruined your life and tossed you aside. You just want closure. That's it – closure. That's all you want from him.

"Fine. Can I go now?" You asked, before shaking your head and rephrasing. "I'll be going now. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Wait – Should I send for a driver?"

"Unless the Manor has disappeared and teleported somewhere else, I think I can manage." Saying this, you walked away, leaving Bruce at a loss for words, mouth gaping like a fish. There you were, in front of him, and just as quickly as he'd spotted you, you were gone. You were every bit as beautiful as he remembered you. He thought of your pregnant belly, and a shiver ran down your spine.

Whose baby was that? Was it his? Were you carrying another man's child? And why were you back in Gotham? Whatever reason it was, he silently thanked the heavens. It'd brought you back to him, and that's all that mattered. With a newfound sense of determination, Bruce ran back to his limo, where Alfred was still waiting for someone to fix his tire.

"Call the company," he exclaimed, out of breath and panting as he reached the older man. "Cancel all my meetings. Today's and tomorrow's."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. What the hell did his boss get into this time?

"May I ask why, sir?"

Bruce beamed.

"We have company."

Alfred had mixed emotions about you coming to visit.

On one hand, he was more than glad to see you. He missed you terribly, his book club pal, his gossiper, his nearly adoptive daughter. He looked forward to hugging you again, speaking to you, asking you how you were doing and learning how these past few months had been going for you.

On the other hand, he was positively mortified. He knew Bruce hadn't dealt very well with your absence, and he was afraid of what his young master might do now that you were here and willing to listen to him. And what would he say anyway? He knew Bruce was suffering and had never stopped loving you, but he didn't expect for him to actually try and win you back as soon as he laid eyes on you.

Sighing, he adjusted the tray on top of the kitchen counter, smiling when he heard the doorbell. Walking towards the entrance, he fixed his tie – he too wanted to look presentable for his favourite young lady – and opened it. Your sight was enough for his smile to grow wider. He took you all in, and his eyes got larger as he spotted the large bump on your stomach.

"Hey Alfred," you said, sporting a soft smile and another summer dress – this one, light green.

"Hello Miss." He replied, tears in his eyes. It made him emotional, you with your hands slowly supporting your growing stomach. He'd wanted to see this sight for so long, and while it was endearing, and you looked radiant, it was also heartbreaking that he hadn't been there to see most of it, and that neither had Bruce.

The very same question passed through his head: Whose baby were you carrying?

"You've got room for a plus one?" You asked, eyes dropping to your stomach.

"I think we can manage."

You walked inside, and hugged Alfred tightly close to you. You too saw him as family, and it had broken your heart to cut contact with him. At first, you thought about keeping his phone number and calling him occasionally; but after learning how everyone wanted to get their eyes on you, you decided that perhaps it was for the best if you ceased contact completely.

"I missed you so much, Miss. The Manor is not the same without you," he whispered, rubbing your back comfortingly.

"I missed you too, Alfred," you replied, tears forming in your eyes aswell. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything, I'm so sorry, I – "

"It's alright, Miss." He pulled away, looking into your eyes with that kind, warm, parental gaze of his, "I understand. I'm just glad I got to see you again."

With this, he led you towards the living room, where Bruce was already, pacing back and forth. It almost made you chuckle – big bad Bat by night, reckless playboy by day Bruce Wayne was pacing circles inside his living room, visibly worried sick.

"Master Wayne," Alfred said, signalling your arrival.

Bruce looked up and you'd think you had just offered him the cure to eternal life or something by the way his gaze held yours.

"Hey," he said, walking towards you, but thinking better of it and standing a few steps away from you. He held forward his hand, hoping that you'd somehow shake it. You did not, and he dropped it.

"Would you like something to drink? Alfred prepared coffee."

"I don't drink coffee. It makes me nauseous." You softly placed your hands on your stomach, and Bruce got the hint immediately,

"Yes – yes, of course. I'm sorry." He mumbled, running a hand through his hair. By the look of it, tousled and unkempt, you figured he'd been doing that quite a lot for at least the past half hour. "Is there anything else you'd like, though? A cup of water, perhaps some tea?"

"Tea would be fine, thank you." You turned to look at Alfred when you said these words, although Bruce could tell immediately they weren't for him by the way your voice was coated in sugar – something he knew he hadn't earned just yet. "You still know my favourite?"

"Of course, Miss," Alfred nodded politely with a smile, "I'll get it for you right away," and made his way towards the kitchen.

You and Bruce remained in silence for a while before he seemingly broke out of a trance.

"Please, do sit down."

You did so, carefully tucking a pillow behind your back, you stretched your legs ever so slightly and sighed in relief, hands resting on top of your stomach. "There, there", you mumbled, "All comfy, aren't we?"

Bruce eyed you and your stomach. There were so many things he wanted to ask you, and yet he did not know where to begin. Should he address the elephant in the room? Should he let you speak about it? What if you did not want to talk about it? Maybe the child wasn't even his – you could've moved on and started a life without him. He has no right to ask.

"You're looking..." he began. You waited for a continuation, and it surely came, seconds after. "Beautiful. Radiant."

"Thank you," was your polite response. You looked around the room – nothing had changed. Still the same paintings up on the walls, still the same portrait of Thomas and Martha Wayne holding a very tiny and very happy Bruce, still the same scent of lavender and books.

Still home.

"How have you been?" he asked, sitting down on the couch positioned next to yours, and trying his best to relax.

"How have I been?" you repeated. He wanted to catch up? Really? As if everything you had together in the past had meant nothing?

"Yes," he nodded, gesturing towards yourself. "How have you been these past few months?"

You scoffed. Fine. If he wanted to do this, then he would see it through until the very end.

"Oh, I'm doing just fine, Bruce." You said, venom evident in your words, dripping off them. "In fact, these last few months have been the jolliest of my life. The man I was in a relationship with, who's also the man who had proposed to me broke up because he said he did not love me anymore, and was fucking some random woman when I walked in on him, then he kicked me out of our home, had to go live in a hotel room for a few weeks before I finally got a place far, far away from his prying eyes, cutting edge technology and vigilante alter ego, then I have to deal with gossip magazines wanting to photograph my face and get some sort of statement from me, going as far as to trying to break into my house just to find out what truly happened."

Bruce winced at the harshness of your words. You'd had some terrible couple of months, clearly, and he didn't know what to say.

"But hey! How have you been, Bruce? How's life?" You were being sarcastic – that much was evident, and although he did deserve every ounce of cruelty you gave him, it also hurt.

"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "You can't imagine just how sorry I am... And how much I regret what happened."

"Ah," you sneered, twisting your face in disgust, "Is this why you invited me here? Because you regret hooking up with whoever that was back then? Got into a mess you couldn't undo? Miss me, oh so much, and need me back?"

Each word was like a dagger being plunged into Bruce's heart. Had heartbreak turned you so bitter?

No, not bitter. You were right, after all.

"I'm sorry," he said your name softly, sighing deeply. "I need to tell you something."

"And I'm sure I can't wait to hear whatever it is." You scoffed. Alfred quickly entered the living room, placing a tray with two mugs on the coffee table in front of you. He carefully handed you one of them, before walking away. Bruce's nose scrunched. Ouch.

"Thank you," you smiled at the butler, took a sip out of the mug, and sighed contentedly. "This man makes the best tea I've ever drank."

"He really does. But as I was saying, I need to tell you something."

"Bruce, I don't want to hear sob stories. I didn't come here to hear you whine and moan and complain about your life. I'm sure you suffered a lot, but I am not really interested." There you went again, sarcasm coming naturally to you and your words.

"I just need to tell you what really happened."

Another sneer.

"I saw what really happened Bruce. Stop it with the bullshit."

"Just – " Bruce took another deep breath. "Please. Just listen to me without any interruptions, please. If you want to scream at me and yell and slap me and punch me after, then that's okay."

"Tempting."

"But please, just let me speak."

"Okay."

Bruce looked at you in surprise. Okay? Just like that? So willingly?

"That's why I came here, isn't it? Please get it over with."

The man before you nodded. He wasn't going to sugarcoat things. It was time for you to know the truth.

"Back when we were engaged," he began, "There was this one night I went on patrol. And everything was going fine, until I ran into Crane."

You furrowed your brows. "Crane?" Then, you remembered what he'd said about interrupting, and muttered a quick "Sorry, go on."

"I ran into Crane."

It was almost as if Bruce could see the whole thing playing before him. The darkness of the night, the faint smell of the Scarecrow's fear toxin, the one he was immune to. It was all so clear in his mind – after all, that night was the beginning of the end.

"He started talking to me. Trying to get into my head, as he usually did. But that time was different. He... He started talking about me, my own personal life, my identity. And then he mentioned you." His gaze fell on you, and you were met with hopelessness and despair. It was heart-wrenching.

"He knew you. Knew you, he knew who you were, knew who I am. He threatened to tell Arkham City residents our identities. He threatened to hurt you if I didn't help him."

Your face was pale with worry.

"And what did you do? You didn't help him, did you? It's Crane!"

"The GCPD intervened and killed him on the spot. Some rookie officer convinced it was the best thing to do. Crane was holding a phone in his hand when he died. It contained files, files about all those close to me. I got to delete everything just before he sent it."

You listened attentively. No one had ever gotten as close to unmask Bruce. Well, no one until Crane. You had heard of his death, but only thought it was a good thing that such a criminal was out of the streets.

"And I..." Bruce hesitated. This was the hard part, telling you what he'd done, the hard choice he'd made. "I thought... It was unthinkable to lose you. I just couldn't. Crane had gotten too close. I was terrified darli – " he quickly corrected himself, switching to your name. "I couldn't lose you... I barely slept that night, thinking of what could've happened to you."

In your face, Bruce could see some recognition. Were you putting the pieces together? Did you know?

"I thought..." he continued, "I thought I had to keep you safe. And in my mind, you'd never be safe if you were with me. As long as you were associated with Bruce Wayne, you'd be in constant danger."

"No..." you mumbled, shaking your head,

"And you're so stubborn..." Bruce's eyes shed with unshed tears, voice carrying an amount of emotion you weren't familiar with. "You'd never listen to me. You'd stick by my side and argue that you loved me and didn't care about the danger..."

"You didn't..." you covered your mouth.

"So, the only plausible explanation was driving you away."

The tension shifted immediately in the room. Bruce couldn't tell what was going through your head, and he wasn't sure he wanted to.

"I paid someone to put on that little show with me, that day. I knew you were coming home early. It pained me so much to do it, I swear..."

"I can't believe this..." you stood up, attempting to do it quickly but failing because of your stomach. "I can't believe you would do that."

Bruce remained sitting, not wanting to distress you any further.

"Please, you have to understand – everything I did was for your protection."

"So you cheated on me to drive me away!?"

"We were going to get married! If you shared my name, you'd share your enemies, and I promised I would never drag you into my other life. I promised to keep you safe."

"Yeah!" You threw your arms up in the air in frustration. "So! You could've taught me martial arts! Gifted me a taser! Taught me how to throw a punch, give me a gun or something! Instead, you thought the brightest idea was to dump me?"

"It hurt like hell; it really did. I didn't sleep, I didn't eat – I was in hell without you." Bruce was getting desperate. This is not how he wanted things to go, not how he'd pictured it going. You were freaking out, understandably so, but some part of him was hoping you would understand. Would you ever?

"Why didn't you just talk to me?" You were getting angry now. This whole conversation was pissing you off.So Bruce had broken your heart because he wanted to protect you!? "We're two responsible adults, Bruce! You could've told me what happened."

"I couldn't. You would've never agreed to stay away from me."

"Exactly! Because I love you! I'd have stuck with you through thick and thin!"

Bruce was so engaged in the argument; he missed your slip. Love, not loved. Present tense.

"And that was precisely what I didn't want to happen! I didn't want to come home one night and found you dead on the ground or kidnapped! I was doing it all for you!"

"By breaking my heart."

"It had to be done."

"It didn't.

"I was thinking of you."

"How old are we, Bruce!? 16? 17? Why didn't you just talk to me?"

Alfred had tried to exit the perimeter. He didn't want to be anywhere near you two, but decided against that decision. Someone had to be able to step in and protect the young master. He was positive that given the chance, you'd throw something at him, and that was sure to leave a mark. He didn't doubt your abilities.

"I'm so sorry," Bruce pleaded, "But once again, please understand. I was just doing what i thought was best."

"You left me!"

"I was protecting you!"

"You left me, Bruce!" You yelled, unable to fight back your tears. Once again, you didn't know what got you so agitated. Maybe your hormones, maybe the lingering feelings you deep down still had for the man sitting down before you. "I loved you; I needed you by my side, and you left me! Because you thought someone was coming after me? You said it yourself – Crane did not send the files to anyone. We were safe. We were fine. And you went and destroyed everything we had because of some fear you had?"

It was Bruce's turn to stand up, defensively placing his hands in front of his chest.

"I couldn't lose you. Please, please, you have to forgive me. I was such an idiot, I shouldn't have done it, I know. I miss you – I miss you so much, I have for the past few months, I can't live without you."

"I couldn't live without you either and had to make do! I still have to!"

"There was an uncomfortable silence as the last few words hung in the air. It was then that Bruce decided to finally ask the question he'd been meaning to ever since he first saw you on the street.

"Is the child mine?"

You widened your eyes, looking away from him. Your hands instinctively went to your stomach.

"You have no right to ask that."

"Please. Just... Is it mine?"

You thought it over. There was no use in hiding it. The child would most likely grow up to look like him, bear his eyes and smile, scrunch his nose in the way his father did when confused. And for all it was worth, Bruce deserved to know. He wasn't a bad person, and you knew he'd be a good father.

"Yes," you mumbled, softly.

Bruce didn't hesitate to ask his next question.

"When did you find out?"

"A few days later. I was all by myself, and so scared, Bruce..." Sitting down, you looked at the floor, finding a sudden interest in examining your shoes. "It was the hardest thing I've ever done... Bearing this child all by myself, without you... As soon as my stomach started showing, I had to get out of here. Tabloids were going crazy, and I didn't want you finding out. I just wanted a normal life for him."

"Him?"

"Yeah. I know for sure, it's a little boy. I love him so much already..."

Bruce sighed, raking a hand through his hair. He knew he'd screwed things up the first morning he woke up without you by his side, but this was simply too much.

"I love you." The determination with which he said it took you by surprise. "I always have. I never stopped. I'm sorry for what I did. Fuck, I'm an idiot. I knew I would put you through hell, and I still did it because it would be the best for you. I'm so sorry."

These words did not fall on deaf ears. You were listening, hung up on every word. Bruce was right there, right in front of you, apologizing and confessing he still loved you. And didn't you love him back? Hadn't you spent countless nights crying over his absence, wishing it were his fingers wiping away the tears that refused to stop, wishing that he was there next to you the moment you realised you were pregnant, wishing he would hug you tightly, kiss your forehead and assure you everything would be fine? That it had all been a very bad nightmare and you were back at home with his body wrapped around yours?

"I... I don't know how I should feel," you said. Which was partially true. Some part of you did still love him, but he'd put you through too much heartache. You weren't about to just forgive him and kiss all his worries away and pretend nothing had ever happened. "You really hurt me, Bruce... I don't know if I can go through that again. What if someone else gets a hold of my information? Of your identity? Are you going to push me away again? Push our son away?"

Bruce looked at you, eyebrows furrowed, and in one quick motion, was down on one knee, hands desperately wanting to rest on top of yours. "I promise," his voice was soft, and it reminded you of your sweet Bruce, of the man you'd fallen in love with and were ready to love forever, "It won't happen again. I'll do better next time. Hell, there won't even be a next time. I promise. I can't live without you."

"Bruce, I... It's not as simple as that..."

"You don't love me anymore?"

"That's not what I said."

"So you do?" A hint of a smile.

"Gosh, Bruce, stop it! What you did was terrible – it destroyed me. Those were the worst months of my life, you have no idea how it felt to be me, alone and pregnant and scared! You can't just waltz back into my life and tell me you love me and are sorry. I don't trust you anymore. It's just not that simple."

"I understand."

Bruce sighed and stood up.

"I just wanted to tell you the truth, anyway. You deserve it. I'm really sorry for what I did."

Once again, you're basked in silence. This time, it was you who broke it, with a question of your own, one that had plagued you ever since he told you everything was staged.

"Did you sleep with her?" Your voice was meek, fragile. Did you want to know the truth?

"No." Bruce answered with determination. "We didn't have sex. I wasn't really naked."

Your eyes widened.

"I guess you were too mad to notice." He smiled sadly.

You looked away at the ground.

Somehow, it did make you a little more at ease that he hadn't really had sex with that woman. It didn't erase all of your pain but gave you some slight respite.

"Have you been with anyone, after..."

"No." He answered again. "There was never anyone else. Never could be. There was only just you. There's always been just you."

You nodded thoughtfully.

"Would you like to feel your son?"

"Huh?"

"He's kicking. Would you?"

Bruce gave you an enthusiastic nod and sat beside you, allowing you to guide your hands to the exact spot the baby was kicking him. Sure enough, he felt something press against his hand repeatedly. He chuckled, automatically leaning forward to feel it better.

"Hey there, little guy," he whispered. "I can't believe you're real."

You stood there for a while, him by your side, hand on top of your stomach. It felt weird, but in a comforting way. It was just you and Bruce and your unborn child, and you somehow felt like things were okay. Everything was fine.

"I've never stopped loving you either," you said after a while. Bruce turned to you, allowing you to speak. "When I found out I was pregnant, all I wanted was to call you, let you know we were finally going to be parents...

"I can't promise that things will return immediately to the way they were. I can't promise I won't be mad at you, because I am, I really am."

You shifted in your seat to face him better. Your eyes trailed his face; how you missed it. The lovely cheekbones you loved to trace on lazy Sunday afternoons, the forehead you loved to kiss on clingy mornings. He looked just as bit as handsome as he did the last time you'd seen him. His eyebags were deeper and more sagged, but that didn't stop him from being the most handsome man you had ever laid your eyes upon.

"But... I'm willing to try."

Bruce's head shot up.

What?

"You really hurt me, Bruce. I thought I’d never be happy again, thought my life would be ruined forever. I thought I'd lost the love of my life." Your voice failed. "But... although your idea was just terrible, you might have had the best intentions in mind. I just... Wish you'd have spoken to me first."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It killed me inside, it really did. But everything I do has always been for you. You must know that. Must know that every decision I take, good or bad, light or not, is always with you in thought." This time, Bruce did not avert his gaze. He was done looking away, done hiding, done being without you. Should this be the last time he ever saw you, he lingered on your face, committing it to memory. Your pretty eyes, the beautiful shape of your nose, your slightly parted lips. Had anyone ever been this beautiful?

"I know," you replied, giving him hope. "Which is why... Why I'm..." It took a deep breath and a few circles rubbed on top of your stomach to calm you down. This was a huge decision to make. Allowing Bruce back into your life could either be the greatest thing you would do, or possibly the worst. There was no middle-ground, and it scared you. You needed a middle-ground, needed a safety net, needed something that did not put your unborn son's life at risk.

And yet... You couldn't help but still want Bruce. You knew it. Your heart knew it. It still beat for him as loudly as it did the first time he'd kissed you, the time he'd asked you to be his, the first time you woke up with him by your side. You knew his intentions were good. His idea was terrible – fucking terrible – and it had only cost you pain and sadness. But you also knew Bruce made reckless decisions when it came to you. He was in love, and he was extremely protective. He had no one aside from Alfred and you and knew damn well he couldn't get rid of the old butler even if he tried; but would try his hardest to get rid of you if it only meant you got to live another day.

It was both endearing and soul-crushing, as things often were with Bruce.

"Which is why I'm willing to give you another chance."

Bruce released a sigh of release, and dropped his head to his hands, unable to say a word.

"Again, I can't promise I'll forgive you over night. I've just had the worst few months of my life. I won't fall back into your arms immediately. But I want to give you a chance to make things right."

It was only when you saw his shoulders shake, that you realised Bruce was sobbing. You placed a tentative hand on his shoulder and felt him shake his head.

"Bruce?" you asked, "Please talk to me, are you alright?"

He looked up at you and smiled. You quickly realised they were tears of joy.

"I love you so, so much. And I will spend every day of my life for as long as I shall live showing it. I'll make things right. I know I can't take back these past few months, and I know I can't magically take away the pain – nor can I wish for your forgiveness all at once. But I'll make it up to you. Forever. That is my promise to you. Because I love you. Fuck, it's insane how much I love how much I always have. You're my family, and I never want to be parted from you. Ever again."

He reached towards your face, his fingers wiping away something wet. Were you crying? Surely tears of joy too.

"I love you too, Bruce. I never really stopped."

He nodded and leaned closer to your face, eyes dropping to your lips. It was a small question, but he wanted to be sure.

"Is this okay? Can I?" he asked, eyes never leaving your mouth. "Please?" The last question was whispered so softly, you were actually not sure if you'd actually heard it, or just imagined it.

You replied in kind.

"Please."

And without missing a beat, he pressed his lips against yours.

His kiss was familiar. It felt like home. Bruce kissed slowly, taking his time. He was learning you all over again, tongue playfully fighting with yours. His hand cupped your cheek, and he brought you closer to him. It felt nice, it felt familiar, it felt like home.

You still perfectly in his arms, and the thought made Bruce smile into your kiss, pouring even more of himself into it. You gave back tenfold, pressing against him and wrapping your arms around his neck. You missed this. Missed him. Missed not knowing where you ended and he began, missed feeling the soft beat of his heart against your chest, missed the soft groans that rumbled in his chest, missed being enveloped by him.

When you two eventually parted for air, he did not rest, kissing every inch of your face, until you were smiling and giggling and holding his face in place so you could look him in the eye.

"I love you." You spoke.

"I love you too," he replied, before caressing your stomach. "I promise I'll be here for him. I love him so much already. I'll spoil this boy rotten, give him everything he ever needs."

You smiled.

Your life had taken quite a nasty turn after Bruce had "cheated" on you and dumped you. Back then, you thought it was merely because he was, after all, the billionaire playboy everyone accused him of being. Now, you knew it was only because he loved you more than anything and wanted to keep you safe. Yes, he had hurt you, and you wouldn't forget that so easily – but it had still been an action out of love.

You'd been so lost the day you found out you were pregnant, crying on the bathroom of a hotel, clutching your stomach, and feeling like shit.

But right now, with Bruce by your side, his hands on your stomach and cheek, and his eyes regarding you with such tenderness, such warmth, you knew all would be fine.

You'd finally found each other again.

A/N: Whew!!!! We made it!!! Yay!!!! Okay so, in case you've made it this far and are interested to find out what the hell happened to me, just keep on reading!

So, as I mentioned before, I just got back to uni. It's killing me. It's kicking my ass. I've been sleeping less than 5 hours per day, and am currently losing my sanity. I don't have the time to sleep, to study, to write. There's so much to do and it's only the second week, and I'm really sorry for the delay, but things have been hectic. I can't remember the last time I slept more than like, 5 hours.

So, this fic is a bit longer than my other 200 Followers Event one. Here's the thing: I got a lovely request from @xxemmarldxx, but in my mind, it was far too big, and far too ambitious for a short 2/3k word drabble (which was the point of my event). So I told her I would do it properly some other time, because it was just too good, but would end up being way too big.

A few days later, I get this request. And they're very similar. Like, really, really similar. So I was like "You know what. Let's combine them. How about we combine the two, and write a big ass drabble the way I wanted to?"

This is the result. I've been writing this for the past week, and to be fair, it was KILLING ME. I was writing in every possible break, using every free space possible to get a few words in, and at some point, I started seeing it more as a "chore" than something I wanted to do. It became "the fic I need to finish", sort of like a burden. And it's not the requesters fault!!! It's just, I was so busy that, in the middle of everything, I couldn't find joy in writing because I was so stressed.

I'm sorry if this piece is bad. I'm not sure how I feel about it. I think I've done much better in the past, and this is not my best work. The word count got away from me and by the end I was just freaking out because I couldn't write anymore. And that was a real bummer because I love writing and I loved this request so much.

I hope you guys liked reading it and enjoyed it! I really do! I think that for a while I won't be able to write Bruce hahaha, I got a bit tired.

Anyways, I hope you're all having an amazing day!!! <3

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

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come-on-shitty-boys · 2 months

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// So A Snake Walks Into A Bar. inked 06 //

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*The nature of this series may be not be appropriate for all readers. Content warnings include: vulgarity, heavy swearing, and implications of adult relations. Due to these themes, this series may not be suitable for readers under the age of 16. Reader discretion is advised.*

The Winged Viper was easily the seediest bar on this side of town with at least one bar fight ending in someone being dragged out the back door every night, the kind of place where eye contact with the wrong person might just end with you being pulled from your stool by the collar of your shirt, whiskey breath in your face as you blink through the insults. But there was something about the dingy establishment that always brought you back. Maybe it was the drinks where the shots were poured just a little too long or maybe it was the Halloween skeleton that just stood by the door year round, donning different hats and decorative pieces for the changing of the seasons.

Or maybe it was him and that stupid smile on his face as he raised his hand in your direction, waving you over, pausing only for a moment to laugh at something the bartender had shouted at him. Yeah, maybe it was Daishou Suguru who already had your drink sitting on the strangely sticky table, a basket of onion rings ready to share. This had become the Friday night routine years ago when you had both outgrown the loud music and overpriced shots of the clubs downtown, always a little too crowded by the city’s college students. Instead, you both had begun opting for the not-so-quiet and only ever so slightly less crowded atmosphere of The Winged Viper, just becoming a part of the regular group of bikers and college professors who found the bar just as endearing.

Daishou’s crooked smile greets you as you slide into your seat across from him. He’s washed the ink from his hands and replaced the collared shirts that he favors in the shop for a simple t-shirt, showing off the tattoos that flowed down his arms, transforming himself from the professional artist into just another guy to blend in with the crowd.

He can’t even get a word out before you’re dropping a binder on the table. That stupid black binder that Kuroo had stuffed full of drawing assignments for you. A waste of paper. A waste of your apprenticeship. “The fuck is this?” He asks, eyebrows scrunching in confusion as he flips open the proof of deforestation that you had just slammed in front of him.

And then he’s laughing.

Face relaxing as his fingers weave through his hair, bright laughter ringing through the bar. “You’re fucking kidding me! This is insane, Y/N.”

“No, trust me! I know! I’m the one drawing 300 fucking lines everyday! ‘Ru, I’m going to lose my mind and it’s barely been a week,” you say, rubbing your face between your hands.

His lips quirk into a teasing smile, raising his eyebrows at you. “You know, I’m pretty sure I told-”

You don’t think it’s possible to roll your eyes harder and Daishou can only chuckle at your dramatics, watching as you fully lean into the eye roll and stare at him with a playful annoyance written across your face. “Yeah, yeah. You told me so. I thought you were just talking shit! I didn’t think he would actually be this terrible! Suguru, the closest I’ve gotten to tattooing is washing his ink cups. How am I supposed to learn if he won’t even sit down and tell me a little about what he’s doing? I don’t even know what the machine feels like in my hand! How do I turn it on? Do I do the linework first or do I do color first? Is it like watercolors where I start light and go dark or do I-”

“You’re thinking too much. It’s been a week.” That playful grin sinks into something more sincere as he looks at you from across the table, taking your hand to really get you to focus on him, except now you’re not focusing on his words, but rather the way his hand fits so nicely in yours and his thumb running over your knuckles, the soft brush of the calluses of his hands from years of tattooing and drawing. His mouth is moving and you’re sure that whatever he’s saying is important, but fuck. Have his eyes always been that green? They’re crinkling as he says something that makes himself laugh. Maybe you should laugh too? His fingers are finding the spaces between yours and you see him stop talking.

Fuck.

You’re supposed to say something.

“Yeah, I completely agree,” you say.

Daishou clicks his tongue, waggling his finger at you in mock disappointment. “I knew you weren’t paying attention.”

“I was absolutely paying attention!” You object. “I was listening the entire time.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Sure, Y/N. And just what are you agreeing with?”

“I’m agreeing with what you said! It’s not my fault if you don’t remember what you said.”

“Gaslighter.”

“Okay, fine. I wasn’t listening! What did you say?” You sigh.

“I was saying that if Kuroo doesn’t work out, you can always come apprentice with me,” he offers, locking eyes with you, sincerity swimming in the green.

Friends.

That was the label that you two had settled on back when you had met, back when you had drunkenly stumbled to bed with him.

Just . . . friends.

A heavy pause between the words to fill in all that was unsaid, time to see his eyes dart down to your lips before reaching your eyes again.

Just friends.

A confirmation as your hand drifts from his shoulder to his chest, eyes following the path of your fingers as they trail further down his body to hook onto the belt loop of his jeans, a firm tug to pull him against you, the only invitation he needed to push his mouth to yours, pressing you back against the wall as his hands found your waist.

Just friends who sometimes make out.

Shirts are thrown across the room and pants are kicked off in the least sexy way possible as he nearly trips over himself, but it’s fine because his mouth is on your neck, pushing you back down on the bed, teeth grazing skin in that way that never fails to have your mouth falling open.

Just friends who sometimes also have sex.

His hand squeezes yours gently, bringing you back to the present moment. You don’t want to look at his face as you pull your hand away, because you know there would be a flash of sadness swimming across his eyes, no matter how hard he denies it. “I can’t, ‘ru,” you say.

“Why not? I can teach you everything he can and I promise, I won’t make you polish the tile with my boxers.”

“Ew! Is he going to make me do that?”

Daishou winks, smiling at you softly. “I won’t give him any ideas. But I’m serious, Y/N.”

You blow out a sigh. “I know you are, but this is something I have to do on my own. I really appreciate it, but it’s not going to feel right if I let you mentor me. It’ll feel too easy, like the whole opportunity was just handed to me on a platter.” You couldn’t let yourself do that. It was the one thing that had held you back from apprenticing with Daishou in the first place. He was a brilliant artist and one of your best friends, but you couldn’t shake the nagging feelings that he would’ve just given you the apprenticeship without having to really work for it. He would tell you that that wasn’t true, that you really did deserve to apprentice with him, but that couldn’t stop that nagging in your head.

Besides, Kuroo’s work aligned more closely with your own style. Daishou had fallen into the realm of realism, being able to push colors in a way that seemed like a picture had been printed directly on the skin. But, Kuroo– He was an artist unlike any you’d seen in your life. Pushing the boundaries of composition and form in ways that didn’t just utilize the shape of the body, but enhanced it, finding ways to draw the eyes around unlike any other tattoo artist you had studied. He was everything you wanted to be and more. There was no one else that you wanted to learn from, but fuck–

He was a prick.

And you weren’t about to forget that, especially when he wouldn’t even look at you when you walked into the shop the next morning. His head was buried into his newest flash sheet, inks spread over the counter as he pulled an outline, but you did see those amber eyes quickly dart in your direction before returning to their work.

“How was your date?” Kuroo muttered, leaning back from the page to examine his handiwork from further away. You could see his features scrunch in distaste as he re-wet an area of ink to remove some of the pigment to try to fill the space again.

But, you’re too busy rolling your eyes as you hang your jacket by the door. “It wasn’t a date.”

He snorts, dipping his brush back into the blue ink. “Sure it wasn’t.”

“Why do you care?”

“Did I say that I care?”

You round the counter to stand opposite of him, busying yourself with making a pot of coffee to only further enable Akaashi’s caffeine problem. “Then why would you ask how it went?”

“I’m just trying to be polite,” he says, pushing a smile that really looks more painful than anything. “We’re going to be stuck with one another until you either finish this apprenticeship or quit, so my apologies for trying to make this a little less dull for the both of us.”

“Yeah. Okay, fine.”

“So? How was it? You never said.”

“Because it wasn’t a date, Kuroo.”

He finally looks up at you, eyebrows raised in amusement. “Does he know that? Because guys don’t look at people like that unless they’re into them.”

You roll your eyes, helping yourself to one of Akaashi’s clean mugs as you pour yourself a cup of coffee. You raise the pot in a silent question to Kuroo who just gives a slight nod in answer. Two steaming mugs on the counter. Cream and sugar for him. Black for you.

“We’ve talked about it.”

“And?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a nosy bastard?”

For the first time since you’ve known him, you swear Kuroo smiles at you, a true genuine smile as if he doesn’t hate your presence after all. There’s the faintest glint of mischief in his eyes as his lips shift into a smirk. “I’m not nosy. I’m just curious.”

“Curious about things that don’t concern you, like usual,” Akaashi states as he passes behind you to refill his mug from the fresh pot. He turns his attention towards you. “Ignore him. He’s a gossip at best, and meddlesome at worst.”

“I do not meddle!”

Akaashi slowly draws his eyes away from his mug to stare blankly at Kuroo. “Do you want to tell that to Tsukishima or should I?”

“Okay, so I meddled once,” Kuroo states, splaying his hands out as if it was only natural to get in the middle of another person’s business every now and then.

You didn’t know that it was possible to roll your eyes with such overwhelming drama until you saw the unparalleled amount of sass that Akaashi threw into that single movement. Steel blue eyes met amber in a look that could only be described as complete and utter disbelief. No words passed between the tattoo artist and the clerk for a long moment, just facial expressions of exasperation as a silent conversation took place.

Until Akaashi gave up, groaning in frustration. “You sent that poor barista flowers every week on Tsukki’s behalf! You can’t do that, Kuroo! You can’t go to the coffee shop and flirt with him and then say, ‘Oh, hey! Actually, my friend is really into you’. That’s meddling, Kuroo.”

“It wasn’t even that bad,” he scoffs.

“Tsukki got blocked and you’re no longer welcome at that coffee shop.”

“So, he wasn’t into my pick-up lines! How is that my problem?”

“You harassed him!”

Amber eyes dart over to you at the stifled snort that you were trying to hide behind your hand. The sneer that you’ve come to know all too well pulls at Kuroo’s features. “You got something to say, kid?”

You choke down your laughter, struggling to swallow those final giggles as you shake your head. “Nothing! Nothing. It’s just not surprising that you don’t have any game.”

“I have game!”

“Yeah? And that’s why you’re still single and trying to weasel your way into my love life?” You tease, leaning forward against the counter to push the nonchalance as you quirk an eyebrow at him.

But his mouth just grows into a smirk as he matches your posture. “So you admit it? You’re seeing him?”

And that was all it took for you to push away in frustration, hands in the air as you walked away from this nightmare conversation. You’d rather be repainting the walls with a detail brush before you had to put up with his shit any longer.

Silence dances in the front of the shop allowing Kuroo to return to the flash sheet in front of him. It stays that way for a while, the clacking of Akaashi’s keyboard being the only thing to fill the silence in the early hours of the shop.

He doesn’t even look at Kuroo when he starts talking again, eyes solely focused on responding to the floods of e-mails from the previous evening. “Do you care?”

“About what?” Kuroo mumbles, swishing his brush in a glass of water, watching the water turn to that same electric blue color that he had been using only moments before.

“You know what. Daishou and Y/N.”

Kuroo’s scoff is enough of an answer, but just to further push his point, he looks up to look at the clerk. “No, Akaashi. I don’t care.”

And Akaashi just nods, glancing at his friend from the corner of his eye to where Kuroo was staring at the curtain towards the back of the shop, the direction that you since disappeared as if he was willing you to return. “Sure.”

{Taglist: @boosyboo9206 @zamorazz @universal-s1ut @localgaytrainwreck // never miss an update! send an ask to be added to the inked taglist!!}

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #kuroo #kuroo tetsurou #x reader #inked #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #tattoo artist au #tattoo artist kuroo

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operafantomet · 8 months

Note

Hi there! The al-mighty god for POTO costumes! I have been quite interested in Monsieur Andre's costumes(I htink he has four sets of looks in total, the one at the auction, the ione with the coat on at Hannibal, the evening dress, and the sketelon costume) and curious about the inspirations for his costumes or the style in which Andre is dressed. Is there anything reliable reference on fashion history you might suggest reading? Thank you!

Sorry for the very late reply! I have not ignored you, I've simply waited until I had the time to give you a proper reply.

First and foremost, ANDRÉ COSTUME LOVE! That happens like... never?! So yay. His first costume is the one he wears in the Auction scene, which is supposed to be set some 30 years after the main story. He wears a grand cloack with collar, and a black felt hat with pinched front. Often also a scarf, but it's not written in stone. These pieces are worn over his regular suit (to allow a quick change for Hannibal), but a long beard is usually added for the Auction scene and removed for Hannibal. Here's Maria Bjørnson's design next to Fernand Delosch's costume in Essen:

Then, for Hannibal: the same main suit, but now with a more tailored coat with fur collar, and a top hat. Both this costume and the previous are meant for outdoor wear, so in both instances we are to assume he has just arrived from somewhere outside the building. The design suggests frog fastening, but this is not often done in the stage costumes. I don't know why. The depicted managers are Steen Springborg and Morten Staugaard in Copenhagen (detail photo of Sebastian Harris in Copenhagen):

The third costume is technically one André has worn all along, but now it can be seen on its own: The black velvet tailcoat, pinstripe black trousers, golden or white waistcoat, and white shirt and bowtie. His hair and moustache is usually fluffy, and - depending on the actor - monocles or glasses can also be seen. This is formal daywear in the Victorian and Edwardian era.

The overall style has always reminded me of a portrait of the Norwegian artist Gerhard Munthe by Christian Krohg, probably the 1880s. I doubt Maria Bjørnson was familiar with it, yet I think he captures much of the essence. The sketch can be found here, and a painted portrait can be found here.

And just because the details are so beautiful, here's a closeup of Laird Mackintosh's monocle and waistcoat with blingy buttons.

The above costume is worn for the majority of the first and second act, but for the Masquerade scene André is all in! Whereas Firmin "only" dons a dramatic cloak over his regular suit, André changes into a skeleton onepiece, often sculpted and sparkly, and with a black and red cloak, and a pointed black hat.

Details of an European skeleton suit:

André's skeleton suit reminds quite a bit of what can be seen in publications from the late 19th and early 20th century. Fancy dress balls became frequent, and magazines and books followed up with numerous costume tips. This 1896 sketch rather screams André!

As for good costume references to seek out, I would actually start by looking at fashion plates. Simply because they show the ideal look, and variations over what was considered the fashion of the time. Google for fashion plates depicting men's fashion between 1880 and 1910, and I think you will find many nice references. A very random example: Fashion plate from 1894, showing formal-wear like tailcoats and evening coats (from The Met):

I don't know if this answered your question, but I hope so! :)

#gilles andré #phantom of the opera #costume nerding #maria bjørnson #phantom of the opera design #costume design

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cozyenigma · 1 year

Text

Darlin'

Hope this one was what you envisioned!

Word Count- 921

Request?- Yes!

Summary- If you asked him Illinois never had trouble putting the charms on people. Shame that that seems to be part of his problem in this particular case...

Warnings- None

Illinois knew you were capable. You had to be to stay in one piece for this long. Maybe you weren't as good of an adventurer as him but still. Capable.

Apparently you were also oblivious.

It may or may not have been his own fault that he flirted so much you never took him seriously when he meant it. Maybe. At this point though you had no excuse.

"Dunno what sparkles more," he said, throwing an arm around your shoulder, "the gem or those eyes of yours…"

And you just scoffed! Ducked out from under his arm and took the treasure, scoffed! You didn't even deign him with a response.

This had been going on for weeks and Illinois was about ready to tear his hair out.

If the regular flirting didn't do the trick, maybe gifts would? He didn't joke around with gifts. As much.

It took a good long while of scouting around for the perfect treasure. No rusty doubloons for you.

You had come into the hotel room with a bag of food from a place he didn't know, eyebrow raised.

"What's all this…?"

On the floor he had laid out a map. It was folded and creased and stained and took up a huge chunk of the room. He had written in the margins and put sticky notes on interesting areas.

Illinois grinned, getting to his feet and dusting his hands off. "You get to pick the next adventure."

"What?" He couldn't tell if the disbelieving laugh was good or bad.

"C'mon, now," Illinois ushered you closer, careful not to step on the map, "you're always asking why I drag you to death traps and all. So this time- you pick!"

You turned to him with a bemused little smile. "So I pick another death trap to go to?"

Illinois paused. "Well, death trap isn't what I'd call it-"

"I don't even know what we'd be looking for?"

"That's what the notes are for," he guided you around to the other side, clapped his hands on your shoulders, leaned in real close and said, "you're the captain of this ship."

You shot him an odd look but obliged, stooping down so you could read the map. Illinois counted it as a success. It seemed like you didn't take it as a joke anyway.

The high lasted all of one night, where it was business as usual.

Refusing to let it get him down, he resolved to turn up the heat on the trip you picked.

Though he had to admit, it wasn't… quite what he expected. The actual adventure part turned out to be a bust. Whatever artifact was rumored to be there was embellished heavily to help with tourism. Even the site it was supposed to be at gave tours and had convenient handrails installed. There was even a damn gift shop.

"There's nothing wrong with gift shops, y'know," you said on the drive back.

"They're overpriced for one," Illinois grumbled. He had a whole plan in mind. Make it a trip to remember, maybe take you out to dinner after.

"It keeps the lights on in those places."

"It's a rip off is what it is."

He was never going to set foot in another place with a gift shop if he could help it. Especially not after this.

You didn't seem too bothered. Smile on your face, arm resting half outside the window as he drove. The wind was enough to ruffle your hair around. Illinois had to remind himself to keep his eyes on the road.

"C'mon, you never went on a field trip anywhere and rampaged through the gift shop at the end?" The gleam in your eyes had him huffing and fidgeting in his seat.

"No. And what kinda kid do you think I was?"

"One who couldn't be kept out of anything that wasn't padlocked."

Illinois scoffed. "Wrong. Totally wrong. I was a model child, total angel."

You rolled your eyes and Illinois let the silence hang just a bit.

"And padlocks really aren't that hard to pick."

"Oh my god, Illinois!"

He snickered as the two of you reached the start of civilization again. A ways down the road, he spotted the glowing neon sign of a restaurant. Hadn't you mentioned you liked that kind of food?

It took him all of a second to think it over before he was making the turn. You looked away from the window as he did, clearly confused. Throwing the car in park, Illinois turned to you.

"Look, the adventure is a wash but-" he reached over and poked you in the cheek, ignoring how you swatted his hand, "I refuse to let your trip go to waste. So how bout I take ya out to dinner, darlin. My treat."

You were already going to answer, more out of habit than anything, and then you paused. To his amazement, there was a faint blush there on your cheeks! What did he do different?

"Ah… darling?" You repeated, voice pitched just a touch higher.

Oh, this he could work with.

"Yes?" He answered, knowing that wasn't what you meant. You sputtered and he resisted the urge to laugh. "It's a pretty easy question, I just wanna get ya your favorite is all. I can be a gentleman when I wanna be."

Your mouth opened, closed, and with a rough swallow you finally nodded, getting out of the car. Illinois couldn't help the shit-eating grin. He was gonna have so much fun with this.

#illinois x reader #illinois the adventurer #illinois ahwm #writersofmark #YouTuber ego #reader insert #YouTuber ego x reader #Ego fanfic #my writing

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mycomfortblanket · 1 year

Text

The Box at the Back of the Closet

Trying to keep Suyin occupied, Lin led her little sister by the hand into their mother's room and opened The Closet. It was just a regular closet that houses their mom's day-to-day clothes. No. This was The Closet their mom always said to not play in unless she was home because of the dresses and the shoes and all the other expensive stuff her parents send her or that she has to wear to those parties that they're not allowed to go to.

But today was just so boring. It was raining too hard outside to go to the park or to do anything really, and Lin was stuck babysitting Suyin while their mother had to run to the station for a while. It's okay though. Hanging out with Suyin had its perks sometimes; she was actually a pretty cool kid to hang out with.

Lin is twisting in the mirror watching the way the jewels on the dress and on her headpiece catch in the light. The dress wasn't the fanciest one by far, but it had always been her favorite. The soft blue color with small accents of the Earth Kingdom green of the dress hangs loosely on her, not yet filled out by her frame. Her body was just starting to change, but until then, she'd just have to imagine what the dress would look like in its full beauty.

Behind her, Suyin continues to dig through the closet, apparently looking for the other white satin glove that she swears up and down it goes with the current dress she has on. "Hey! Look at this," comes her small voice from the back of the closet. In the mirror, Lin looks behind her as Suyin slowly emerges from the forest of dresses holding a decorated box, obviously handmade and badly done at that.

Lin furrows her brow and turns around to go to her younger sister to take a look. The click of her mom's shoes on the stone floor make her feel like a princess, someone worthy of wearing dresses like this all the time. Taking the box from her sister's hands she is surprised by the sheer weight of the thing. Lin grips it with one hand, opens the lid with the other, and peers inside. Suyin, next to her, stands up on her tiptoes to look inside as well. "It looks like a bunch of crap," Lin says, her voice a little awestruck. Their mom never kept anything, especially random crap. Well, she kept almost everything that she and Suyin gave her. There was a whole box under their mom's bed of the stuff they'd given her over the years.

But their mom was a minimalist, keeping the apartment free of clutter and junk to make it easier for her to move around. She didn't see the point in decorating since she couldn't see it so the only decorations were the stuff that Lin and Suyin put up.

Together, they sit down on the floor. Suyin's small hand grabs a small stone... something. It's obviously carved and worn smooth by hand, but what it's supposed to be is lost on her. Looking back in the box, there are several folded pieces of paper. Picking the one up off the top, she opens it.

Immediately, Lin becomes even more confused. It's a letter written in Braille. Braille machines were expensive back when they were first invented so they never had one. Honestly, Lin didn't even think her mom knew how to read braille. She absolutely refused to buy one of the machines even as they became more affordable and the need for her to read things became more and more important.

"That's what I've got you for, little badgermole," Lin remembers her moms saying at one point as she nuzzled her face into Lin's neck.

"Is that braille?" Suyin asks, looking over at the piece of paper. The little stone is still in her hand and she is turning it over and over, feeling the small ridges with her even smaller fingers.

"Yeah. I don't know why mom would have a letter written in it though. I don't think she knows how to read it, she always gets me to read the stuff that comes to the house or you bring home from school."

"Can you read it?" Suyin lays her head on Lin's shoulder and they stare at the paper.

"Kind of. it's been a while since I've read braille, so it's going to take me a minute. Let's bring this into the kitchen so I can translate it." Together, the girls stand up and bring the box to the kitchen table. Once the box is deposited on the table, they split up. Suyin to get paper and a pencil from her school bag and Lin to get her old translation guide for braille she had to have for school one year.

When they make it back, Lin sits at the table with an ever-patient Suyin staring over her shoulder. It's slow work, but as Lin translates the letter, the more confused she gets.

October 15th

Toph,

It's cold here in the Fire Nation, something I know you're glad you're not experiencing. Zuko is planning on taking a week off during the summer and is going to invite the rest of the gang to go to Ember Island, so I thought I'd beat him to the punch and invite you. There aren't enough beds for everyone, but maybe we could share one? Or not. Totally up to you.

Katara, I think, is enjoying pregnancy. She's got this weird glow going on and whenever Zuko sees her walking around or lifting anything, he rushes over and takes it from her and tells her she has to be more careful and all this other annoying dad-to-be bullshit.

I should be leaving here in another week or so, I'll send another letter before I do though so you know to feel for me. I'll be home soon and we can get together and go get a drink or something.

Love you always and give Lin kisses for me,

Sokka

Sokka? Like Uncle Sokka? Why would their mom keep a letter from him? In all the times Toph has received a letter from someone, she gets Lin to write a reply and then the letter goes in the trash within that day. So why would some stupid letter about a vacation and Aunt Katara's pregnancy be something to keep?

"Let me see the next one," Lin holds her hand out and Suyin digs through the box and pulls out another.

This one is dated several months later:

April 3rd

Toph,

I can't believe it's already been a few weeks since I last saw you, it feels like it's been months! Dad and Bato are getting married in a few days and I don't know what's weirder: knowing my dad is marrying his guy best friend or the person he is marrying is Bato. Like, who would want to marry him?! You should hear how loud that guy snores, I swear he is louder than you. Whatever, I guess I'm happy for them, even if it means I have to be away from you for a few weeks.

When I get back, we should just stay in the bed for a few days, and catch up on everything we would've been doing while I was gone (I just know you would punch me if I said that in person).

I can't wait to see you. Love you always and give Lin kisses for me,

Sokka

"What did he mean when he said 'catch up on everything we would've been doing'?" Suyin's innocent voice asks in Lin's ear.

"Er- nothing. Just the stuff hanging out and stuff," Lin blushes hard. She tries not to gag at the thought of her mother doing that, especially with Uncle Sokka. The real question is when the hell did her mom and Uncle Sokka get together?! Is that what this is, a bunch of mementos? Uncle Sokka mentioned Lin at the end of his letters but not Suyin, so it had to have been at least 9 years ago. The date at the top doesn't have a year, so it's really just grasping at straws for the timeline.

"Can we do another?!" Suyin asks, pulling Lin from her thoughts.

"Yeah. Give me the next one."

May 10

Toph,

I'm sorry. I really am. I shouldn't have said those things about Kanto, you were right, it's not my place. I hate fighting right before I leave for a trip. I swear I'm going to make it up to you. This convention shouldn't take more than a week, a week and a half at the most, and I'll come straight home to you.

I love you. Give Lin a kiss for me,

Sokka

This letter is short, so it doesn't take a long time for Lin to translate it. The name Kanto, sounds familiar, but she can't place where she's heard it before. At the end of the letter, Uncle Sokka said 'I love you', as in he was in love with her mom. Not the casual 'love you' like it was in the previous two letters.

Lin remembers Uncle Sokka being around a lot when she was really young, but once he moved, the visits became less and less often. She doesn't think she ever saw them kiss or do anything that would signify a relationship, but then again, she was young, younger than Suyin. She didn't know what relationship stuff looked like or what to even look for, so it surely could have been happening without her knowing.

Without saying anything, Suyin digs into the box and pulls out another letter, and hands it to Lin.

July 23rd

Toph, my love,

I can't seem to sleep tonight, my thoughts keep drifting back to you. I miss you so much, I miss the way your skin feels, how soft it is. I miss your laughter and even your punches. I'm not sure how much longer I can stay in the Fire Nation because not seeing you is driving me crazy.

What have you been doing the past few nights? Does Lin climb into bed with you when I'm not there? Do you lay there at night awake like me?

I can't wait to see you. I miss you so fucking much, I feel like I'm going to implode if I don't touch you soon.

I almost slipped up and said something to Zuko about you the other day. He asked why I was being such a pain in the ass and that I needed to get laid. I almost said something about you then but caught myself at the last moment.

When can we tell people about us? At least Zuko, my sister, and Aang. It's so hard to not talk about you like that, not to say how much I miss you and how much I love you. I can already hear your voice giving me shit for being a sap and saying that it would threaten your chance at getting Chief of Police. Although, in my opinion, that position should already be yours. But, I know that's another conversation you're sick of.

Just know that I love you always. Give Lin a bunch of kisses for me and that I got her a present.

With all my love,

Sokka.

Lin feels dirty reading that one like she is really invading her mother's privacy. Well, technically, she is... but still. This letter... it seemed like they were really something serious. She looks next to her at Suyin but finds her sister already gone. She can hear her down the hall in their mother's room playing in the dresses again. She must have lost interest in the box. The small sculpture is sitting on the kitchen table by itself, already forgotten.

Looking back at the table, her eyes land on the box that is sitting on the table across from her. With shaking hands, she reaches out and pulls it towards her. Peering inside hesitantly, she sees a few more badly made sculptures, a couple more letters, a few random rocks, a couple of rings, and a smaller box that is half hidden beneath the letters.

Lin pulls out the rings and looks at them. They're nothing special, really. Both are silver with no stones or gems on them. One band is smooth and quite large, no way in hell it could fit their mother's dainty fingers. The other, she thinks has braille on the inside of the band. She has to squint her eyes to be able to make it out, but she is instantly able to recognize what it says.

Sokka.

Are these... no. No. there's no way. No way these are what she thinks they are.

Looking into the box again, Lin grabs the small box that is tucked in the corner and carefully pulls it out. when she opens it, there's another letter that is folded up inside. Unfolding it, she begins to read,

January 31st

Toph,

I know you think that you have to do this all on your own, but you don't. You have never had to do this all on your own. You know I love you and that I want to be with you, so please, just consider my proposal.

This baby, our baby, is something amazing, not a burden and I'm not asking you to marry me out of obligation or pity. I'm asking you out of love, I swear. I know you can tell I'm telling you the truth. I should've asked you sooner. I should have asked you to marry me instead of saying... instead of saying what I did.

What I said at first... it was wrong. I can't even write it out. I just panicked and I can't imagine how panicked you must have felt. And then for me to go and say something like that... It was so wrong of me to say that and I wish I could take it back, I wish I could just grab the words and shove them back in my mouth.

Please, Toph. I love you so much. Please don't let this be the end. I'll wait for you until the end of my days.

Sokka

Lin's eyes are filled with tears by the time she reaches the end of the letter. Uncle Sokka is Suyin's dad? And he proposed?!

Looking up from the letter, her eyes land on the smaller box that lies open. There's a velvet pouch inside and with trembling fingers, she pulls it open and dumps its contents into her hand, and immediately, the air leaves her body.

An engagement necklace, just like the one Aunt Katara wears. The ribbon is a dark green and in the center of the stone, there's what looks to be a sword... maybe... and the Earth element symbol. It's very badly done, but Lin can feel just how much work went into making this necklace and the love it was made with.

Looking back over to the pair of rings, to the engagement rings. Every nation had its own ritual for marriage and for engagements: Water Tribe had the necklaces, Air Nomads had tattoos, Fire Nation had small burns on the chest- over the heart, and Earth Kingdom had rings.

Uncle Sokka must have made both for her, and she still turned him down.

Why???

Lin swipes her finger over the engraving of the stone on the necklace. Before she can react, she hears the front door open. Whipping her head over to where she sees her mother walking in the door, Lin shoots to her feet and begins to quietly shove things back in their place in the box. From the corner of her eye though, she sees her mom pause and turns to look at her.

A sly smile comes onto her mother's face, "Whatcha trying to hide there, little badgermole?" She walks over to the table and Lin sits there frozen, one hand holding the velvet bag with the necklace carefully tucked back inside, and the other hand grasping a few letters.

"Nothing!" Lin says, and even she can hear how her voice shakes.

Toph looks taken back for a second, confusion furrows her brow. "Why are you lying?" her hand reaches out and grasps Lin's arm and feels along her forearm to the papers that are clenched in her hand.

Lin watches as realization dawns on her mother's face. "Mom," her voice sounds thick with emotion and she tries to shield the box on the table from her mom with her body as if it would do anything.

Gently, Toph pulls the papers out o Lin's hands and feels along them with her fingers. The tips of her fingers just barely touch the page as it glides across. "Where did you find this?" Toph whispers, her voice sounding broken.

"It was in the back of your closet. Suyin and I were playing in your dresses. I know you told us not to! To only play with them when you are home, but she was so bored and I-" the minuscule shake of her mom's head shuts her up.

Neither one of them speak for a moment. Gently, Toph refolds the letters and places them back into the box, her hands ghosting across the top of the table for the rest of the items. She grabs the small stone and places it in the box when her pink brushes against the box that contained the necklace and she yanks her hand back as if she was burned. Her face is carefully devoid of emotion.

"Why didn't you marry him, mom?" Lin asks.

Toph sucks in a sharp breath and her gaze flickers upwards toward her daughter's voice. "You can read braille?" she whispers.

"I had to a few years ago in school, it was a requirement. Since when do you read it?" A small bubble of anger is starting to emerge inside Lin's chest. How could her mom keep this from her? How could her mom turn down...

"Sokka... he-" it's weird hearing her mom refer to him as just 'Sokka' rather than 'your uncle' or 'Uncle Sokka'. She always said the uncle part. "He invented braille machines. He invented it for..." she trails off. Taking a deep breath, Toph pulls a chair over and sets herself in it gently. "He invented it for me. He taught me how to use it."

"Why didn't you marry him? He loved you, even I could tell just from those letters." If Lin hadn't been staring so intently at her mother, she would've missed the flinch. The anger in Lin's chest rises higher. "Why didn't you marry him, mom?! He's Suyin's dad and you wouldn't even-"

Toph immediately stands from her chair and claps a hand over Lin's mouth. "Don't you ever say that out loud."

"Why not?! She has a right to know! Fuck, even I have a right to know who my dad is, but you fucking refuse to tell me." Lin knows it's dangerous to cuss at her mom. Knows it's a quick way to grounding and being made to deadlift a rock for hours. But Toph just closes her eyes and falls back into the chair.

Toph takes a deep breath and runs a hand through her hair, knocking some strands loose from its bun. "Your dad's name is Kanto. He was a good man, but... he panicked at learning I was pregnant and he-" she cuts herself off and shakes her head.

Immediately, the anger drains from Lin. Kanto. She read that name in one of the letters. Uncle Sokka was apologizing for something in rregardto that person. And he... he left when he found out her mom was pregnant with her. And Uncle Sokka said something that probably bordered on bailing and freaked her mom out.

"Mom," she asks, her voice gentle like she's approaching a wounded animal. "Mom, did you think that Uncle Sokka would..." she has trouble bringing herself to say it. "Did you think that he would leave because you were pregnant?"

Toph closes her eyes and a single tear escapes, running down her cheek. "Go change out of that dress and put it back. And put back whatever your sister has dragged out." Her voice is tired and completely raw.

Lin nods and leaves her mother alone at the kitchen table to go get her sister.

Read this on Archive of Our Own!

#tokka #angst #toph #toph beifong #sokka #suyin beifong #suyin #lin beifong #lin #mentions of past tokka #saw some atla fanart on pinterest of a boy finding a necklace and giving it to korra #and it sparked an idea #and behold #this monstrosity was born #atla #avatar the last airbender

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misqnon · 17 days

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its... its... its marchm.... its march OFF anon... u can keep calling me march if u want. or rowan.. im not picky.. i have many names.. i keep writing these when im very tired and i get super rambly,, forgive me..

idk i think enemies to lovers is just .. i get too angry... when they're actually enemies.. im the type to REALLY hold a grudge and like. file away every single wrong done to me.. and i cant help but also do that with fictional characters. yeah i swear im healthy... i swear... YOUD DO THAT FOR ME?? and how ... how could i ever repay u.. but actually do whatever u want!! i do Not Like telling ppl what to do LMAO because i hate it when its done to me (i might have a bit of pda autism). if u did hanyagellan fanfic for me i would be eternally grateful and probably Die. but if u didnt i would be perfectly fine :)

i forgot kidd doesnt really appear much til wano .. i read wano ages ago so he is just like . a permanent member in my brain now. i think of him and luffy and law as a trio and then i remember that wait.. it was only luffy and law for the longest time... anyways hes awesome. he definitely has tits to rival zoro. and killer is also awesome.. i love killer. in my head killer is a very nice sweet guy. and then i remember his name is apparently massacre soldier killer. and that kidd and his crew murder innocent people. and its like oh right ... theyre not just.. funny little guys ... they're evil funny little guys... also kidd is SCOTTISH?? imagine him with that accent. wonderful. perfect. it suits him so well.

ive seen t4t frobin and i do Love it. i do.. i also love tjem as just wonderful allies. idk either way theyre lovely

i also read on tcbscans!!! i dont really read the comments all that much (shockingly, because i love to read comments on other platforms) but IM SO GLAD!! UVE HEARD IT!!!

oda has..... a Problem.... looks at mitsutoshi shimabukuro and nobuhiro watsuki. (pedophiles he has supported) anyways yeah it's like . its .. its so disgusting. i loved kyros so much and like . it was ruined!!! it was ruined for me!!! WHY in my favorite arc. i think its valid to count shirahoshi. there is literally no reason to make it so the underage characters are supposed be attractive. they did it with rebecca too,, like she couldve easily just worn leather or something under her armor. but she didnt. shes supposed to be sexy. as a 16 year old. and actually it gets worse later in the story!! so look forward to that!! /s

MORE TONIGHT HELL YEAH!!!! (by the time i finish writing this u will probably have already read the chapters LOL). i actually adore chiffon and lola (i saw u talk abt this so..) and i also think its bc theyre not meant to be attractive. oda can only write women well when theyre not supposed to be sexy (im exaggerating bc nami and robin are well written, its just. theyre not as dynamic and interesting after the time skip). also i Love bege and chiffons weird little baby . he has stubble . wonderful. i love that bege baby talks to him unashamedly. an actually good father in one piece?? its rare but it DOES happen!!

i actually watched the first episode of the live action today!!! and yeah i decided i do NOT like mackenyu's acting as zoro. i dont really blame mackenyu for it bc i assume its an issue with the producers or writers or whatever wanting to make him more badass,, but i kind of cant stand it. he has the cool guy vocal fry.... i hate it... i hate that. i looked up videos of mackenyu in like. regular settings! and he seems like a genuinely cool person!! i think if he could channel his regular energy into zoro more.. it would be perfect . i would say that is the perfect zoro. to be fair though he could relax a bit with the cool guy thing later on in the show and i just don't know it yet bc i only watched episode one (holding out hope that thats what happens). overall . besides my issues with zoro being too cool n serious and monotone.. it was actually really enjoyable!! the kobylu moment where theyre stargazing together?? hello??? hello???? for the record i dont really ship kobylu but i do enjoy the ship.. does that distinction make sense.. i hope it does. and also zoro has freckles. i cant get over that... freckles ... he has freckles.. there r a few choices i didnt like (that i cant remember rn) but it was a fun watch!!!!

I WOULD SHOW U BUT . BUT ITS JUST .. ITS JUST HER HEAD .. I DIDNT DRAW SHOULDERS OR ANYTHING... i just wanted to get down my most basic of ideas .. i swear the moment i draw a fem sanji im happy with.... u will see her.

haha.. so dada.. and . abrina.. am..abro.. abromava.. marina abromavia.. abromavic of him . yeah. so dada and marina abromavic of him . ok but i looked up marina abromavic and!! "rest energy" i know that one!! (thats all i know.. though dada looks familiar)

i love the secret freaks

"[eyebags the size of dinner plates]" is so funny,, i always wanted to move house as a child . just once. i thought it was very cool and trendy when people in my class said they were moving. and also i didnt like my neighborhood (i still dont). i know now that moving is not what i had thought it to be. as a child.

very soon!! (now)

i definitely played games online as a kid but i also like. was on websites i should not have been on (deviantart) as young as 10. my old youtube comments arent that bad to look back on, sometimes theyre kind of funny, but i imagine finding any of my old accounts on any other website would be very upsetting 😭. i dont know if i ever deleted my accounts or if theyre all still out there . for me to come across at any time. (though i doubt i ever will, considering i havent in the 10+ years since)

i also try not to put anything else out there, but sometimes i (stupidly . very stupidly) decide to just. not care that much. i have just accepted that people have probably found photos of me as a child online (not that i remember posting anything from before i was like 15 but. still) and i. just live with the constant assumption that i am being watched. im a very paranoid person sometimes so i know if i stress out about whatever is online about me it will literally turn into an existential crisis

uhh thats all kind of (really) heavy sorry about that!!

tbh with anime... betrayal is always possible. i started an anime called usagi drop a few years ago and then stopped because i. got bored? maybe? and whoops, turns out they have a romantic relationship. thank god i dropped it

i was actually looking up vocaloid stuff yesterday.. learning The History (i was watching kaito x gakupo mmd's) and i found out nyan cat?? was vocaloid?? originally?? and the version that got popular was utauloid?? i used to play 10 hour nyan cat videos on the tv. this was a monumental discovery. i love finding out that niche internet communities are like . the beginning . of a huge internet meme.. its seriously so interesting. plus i recognized a lot of older popular vocaloid songs!! i had no idea it had seeped so much into my life . without me knowing it.

i was kind of tempted to go see kikuo and bo en live!! im kind of?? a bo en fan?? i listened to that song that was in omori before omori was out (i still dont really know what omori is) and i like a few other songs by them but im not really someone who likes musical artists. i just like a few songs,, or one song,, from an artist,, and then nothing else. i do like quite a few of kikuo's songs though!! most of all i was just tempted bc the timing was right and i noticed they were coming to a city nearby. didnt end up going bc i couldnt justify it!! did u have a good time!? also i saw the miku expo experience,, in portland.. where they just got what was visibly just,, a tv. even as someone who is a Beginner vocaloid fan.. that is so disappointing

my aphantasia isnt really that bad and its not something i notice most of the time, so it doesn't really get in the way. i kind of think it might help me in art because i dont get stuck on the blank canvas part, trying to picture what to draw? idk ive heard a lot of ppl talk abt that being a struggle. i just jump right into it since i cant come up with anything most of the time anyways. other times tho i can picture things very clearly.. i think part of the aphantasia is just that i have autism. and adhd. and i cant concentrate well enough to picture things a lot of the time, especially when i actually want to. most of the time the things i successfully picture are involuntary

i dont know why they dont anymore but no!! they dont!! i havent actually tried to look up the reason or if this is a permanent thing. i should.. it might also just be that its not being scanned or its not included in digital files.. idk . any number of things. ok i checked and i found a translation on reddit of the volume 107 sbs, but its not in the tcb scans . so i have to assume its just that they dont have the scans for the sbs, and oda is still doing it consistently?? either way its not easy to find

oda canon skin tones should be IGNORED.. too boring... as for the women. he has literally devolved. nami and robin pre timeskip... come back... please.

i get posts u reblogged from like. the beginning of march.. sometimes.. that feels like ages ago... i actually want to interact with a lot of the things u reblog bc theyre good.. and half of it is stuff i mean to reblog anyways but havent. but i dont wanna spam u. and i definitely would spam u. on accident. but still..

idk if u use tiktok at all (i didnt used to but i have been zoomerpilled or whatever the kids would say ..) but there was an audio that got pretty popular that's like. "you can call me anything! you can even call me dookie! ...... NEVER CALL ME DOOKIE!!" and THAT WAS IVA IN IMPEL DOWN!! anyways watching that scene in impel down as a kid.. was very influential. it probably is why i identified as genderfluid for a bit?? i had never really seen any trans characters before or met any trans people in real life. so when i saw . trans characters. i was like wow... u can do that? thats allowed? it was mindblowing. picture me with big sparkly eyes full of wonder.

"transgenderism is a thrilling character trait" is extremely funny wording. i think he HAS done some research (it shows in his most recent trans characters, my issues with yamato aside) but when he made the newkamas.... yeah.... i dont know if he really thought about what kind of life experiences they would have. as trans people. or whether he was even portraying them well. it really was just "hey this would be a funny character.." and then there they were.

i love all 3 of the fishman princes and actually i am very thankful the other 2 (i can never remember their names... ryuboshi and.. something.. sorry guys..) arent just like . The same character copy and pasted. but i agree!! that moment broke my heart. u poor kids :(. ive never seen d gray man so this was probably (?) my first introduction to noahs ark in . anime,, manga. im rly excited for whenever the scene will be. where everyone boards.. and .. idk .. is led to the dawn of the new world.. or whatever they say is supposed to happen

YEAH I WANT TEENAGE CHOPPER!!! he can still be a wholesome guy but please .. please.. treat him a LITTLE BIT like .. a teenager.. the teenager he is. i love horn point chopper . i wish we could see all his forms a bit more. i also wish for more chopper angst like .. i loved when they fought aokiji right before water 7 because it had a really great chopper moment. he was directing the other crewmates on what to do and it was so high tension and emotional,,, i miss that.

ok i agree zoro getting lost is timeless. i see jokes abt it everywhere and i dont even mind. i didnt like nami's slapstick joke in the beginning but ive kinda become neutral about it. i dont find it funny but i dont dislike it either. brook panties joke is gross ... gross old man. but i thought it was very funny when he asked camie for money because she didnt have any panties. making him from a creep into just a pathetic old guy would be funny imo. actually i do like brook's skull jokes mostly bc theyre so lame. im a fan of jokes so bad theyre good. and now 80% of the time he gets ignored... and i find that funnier. ill laugh at ur jokes brook.. i swear... ill laugh.

literally the whole setting of water 7 was so interesting and cool and . i adored it. the aqua laguna,, part of the city being underwater bc the water level keeps rising. the canals!! the water horses!! its all so fun. i actually do love the frobin moments in enies lobby, and i love kaku, and i love the "i want to live" moment, but other than that i dont have much i found super exciting.. oh and the moment with the merry at the end of it. that broke me . why give me hope and then rip it away from me!! oda always does this. /pos though.

what about,,, sanji except he wears colored contacts sometimes just to confuse the crew. "your eyes were brown yesterday what the fuck happened??"

"[clanging my sanji gavel] order in the court" SANJI GAVEL,,,, THATS FUNNY

"if there’s multiple types of conqueror’s haki it it like..all based on one guy? one original conqueror ?? and who was it…" ough ur so smart for this.. i never considered that..

zoro is Definitely favored with op stuff. i do think he is usually considered second mate so its like... kind of fair imo? but at the same time... yeah... oda could spread the wealth a little. make everyone else have more development rather than just focusing on zoro.

i see ur shanks argument and i counter with all humans are ugly sometimes.. that picture is fantastic though hes really ratting it up

cora and doflamingo are so giant .. and they came from 2 very normal sized parents. maybe its their diet...?? no but.. they were extremely poor for several years... idk one piece is so wild. like what do u mean geko moria is just a regular human. hes not even a different race... he just grew like that.. i think its funny to imagine the evil characters feeling awkward because they dont have a seat and just .. crossing their arms and pretending to be cool. i didnt see that doflamingo post but i looked it up and he really is like a cat. birdcat.. catbird.. sitting right in the middle.

i dont know if i ever have moments where i think "luffy wouldnt do this" because honestly i dont think im very good at character analysis. i really struggle to feel connected to and like i understand people or characters,, maybe its just because i tend to assume theres depth where there might not be. or maybe i just severely underestimate myself LOL. but i do 100000% agree oda should take notes from his own character... like luffy is so non judgemental and. idk. hes so easy to aspire to be like. everyone could benefit from being like luffy or having someone like luffy in their life. i completely agree that he doesnt acknowledge? accept? understand? gender roles. and this is why luffy is genderfluid /hj. but yes i get u!!!

im so glad we have come to a mutual understanding about cannibalism. i am joining u.

THE LUFFY IMAGE.. ok im coming

ok ur headcanons..

i headcanon lesbian sanji . until i see sanuso... and then... i lose all strength in my beliefs .... sanji is a transfem bisexual and she is dating usopp. <- i find it funny that im like that bc i was hardcore like "sanji is a lesbian." "i wont ship usopp with anyone bc of kaya" (i dont like shipping characters when i think theyll end up with another character bc i am very sensitive to disappointment) and i have thrown my beliefs out the window bc i love sanuso so much. also do u have a screenshot or anything of the sbs question bc i dont remember seeing that /gen. i want to see.. i want to see the bisexuality with my own eyes...

i agree zoro is gay. i also have recently been converted to the zoro is transmasc .. train? what . u know what i mean hopefully. i also dont ship zolu bc luffy is hardcore aroace (and if i shipped him with anyone it would be koby as a mostly one sided thing) but they do have a fun relationship and i enjoy seeing zolu content.. tbh im not picky abt shipping most of the time as long as it isnt proship. most ships im just like "i understand the appeal" and dont have many feelings beyond that

lesbian nami is so true. i understand it after rereading.. i see the gay in her.

i think i mentioned t4t frobin earlier in the post but yeah,, even as cishet allies theyre wonderful.. good people. cute couple.

i see straight usopp and i also see bi usopp. no matter what ,,, he likes women for sure. i also saw transmasc usopp and i actually love it.. transmasc usopp.

brook could be anything tbh. i dont really have strong opinions abt his sexuality but i enjoy bisexual brook. its even alliterative!!

chopper is a reindeer... a BI, TRANS reindeer

ok ur too educated and cultured for me... i know zorro and rudolph and pinocchio but i honestly dont know the rest. i live under a rock and dont usually bother to learn about new things (unless its like. current events. or any of my niche interests)

i actually adore rudolph though and yeah when i realized chopper is rudolph . i was very excited. the rudolph the red-nosed reindeer from 1964 is my favorite christmas movie ever. i genuinely adore it. also im pretty sure the person who made that movie is lgbtq and purposefully put lgbtq themes into the movie. i always felt a connection to rudolph bc my child mind thought of him as trans and gay without really realizing that was what i assumed him to be lmao. i dont remember if the lgbtq themes actually involve rudolph himself but thats who i identified with as a kid and i will stick by it. anyways that is why chopper is transmasc and bi in my headcanons haha

uhhh uhhhh.. to end the message..

OH SHIT OFF ANON!!! do u know how funny it would have been if u came off anon and i was thinking u were a completely different blog somehow. i would have cried

ur reasoning for not liking enemies to lovers is very valid but i laughed thinking about zosan making out or something and ur just standing there like NO…..YOU SHOULD BE ANGRY,.,...KILL!!!

i really doubt i will have the time to write hanyagellan but it sounds so novelty and fun that IDK MAYBE SOMEDAY N FSVNF DC

I HAVE LITERALLY TALKED ABOUT HOW KID LAW AND LUFFY ARE SUPPOSED TO BE THE MAIN 3 OF THE WORST GENERATION BUT ITS MOSTLY JUST LUFFY AND LAW AND THEN KIDD’S THERE LIKE 🧍”me and you and you and me and you and your friend steve”

i have only really seen fanon killer which yea does not give the murder of innocents vibe but you know what. thats ok sometimes silly happy little guys are just murderers and thats ok- no i literally did not. realize kids crew did that. LMFAO well i like doffy so clearly this isnt gonna change much for me. but scottish kid…thats fuckign PERFECCT …KIDD….KID MY BELOVED

oh yeah oda’s weird pedo tendencies are uhh 100% my least favorite thing about him. the sexualization of the 16 year olds usually makes me have to pause for that day and come back later cause it just ruins it for me. WHAT DO U MEAN IT GETS WORSE 😭😭😭 NOOOOOO

ur absolutely correct btw. abt how his well-written women have to be ugly. dnf,mvcd like yea nami and robin exist but they have been a bit sidelined in terms of development meanwhile the characters that are both sexualized and well written…i can barely pay attention to their writing bc it feels undermined by the intense sexualization.

bege’s baby is terrible. irs terrible i hate it. but it makes me laugh so hard. although bege doing the baby voice and cooing over his baby was very cute and i DID love that LMAO

RIP MACKENYU ZORO…YOU TRIED I GUESS..yea i think the showrunner was maybe thinking too much about post timeskip zoro while also trying to amplify his coolness and it just came off as. trying way too hard. i think he has a few better moments but also the Too Edgy moments continue so its a mixed bag. though zoro’s characterization seems to be one of the major criticisms ive seen across the board so maybe they’ll lighten him up for season 2. also koby is so perfect in the live action. him and luffy are adorable. i dont ship it either but i can see the vision. they were damn cute ps. they had exactly one f-word pass for season one and they gave it to zoro but like. in the most hilarious throw away line ever. however this means in at least one piece of one piece canon zoro has said fuck.

trades you hanyagellan fanfiction for the transji drawing (im kidding, dont worry abt it!!)

“haha.. so dada.. and . abrina.. am..abro.. abromava.. marina abromavia” luffy trying to pronounce the name of someone he doesnt care about be like

oh yea i definitely have a million accounts on random website that like. i dont even remember. once i tried to see if there was some kind of website or plug in or tool to put in your email address and find any accounts linked to it so i could delete them but i didnt really find what i was looking for which is crazy. like i have a fuckin nico nico douga account from when i used to watch vocaloid videos on there. the website is entirely in japanese. insane

and about the "heavy" internet stuff NO UR GOOD im in a similar boat and i just. choose not to think about it too hard. blissful ignorance

YES YES IVE HEARD OF USAGI DROP. FOR THAT VERY REASON. I THINK WHEN YASHAHIME STARTED AND WE DIDNT KNOW WHO THE MOM OF SESSHOMARU’S CHILDREN WERE EVERYONE WAS LIKE PRAYING IT WASNT RIN INCLUDING ME BUT I REMEMBERED THAT RUMIKO AT ONE POINT MENTIONED LIKING USAGI DROP AND I WAS LIKE. its so jover you guys

“i was actually looking up vocaloid stuff yesterday.. learning The History (i was watching kaito x gakupo mmd's)” KSDNNLKSM

yea!! nyan cat was an utau called momo i think? the nyan cat creator is actually here on tumblr lmao. i found them a couple years ago and was like holy shit… @ prguitarman. also the vocaloid oliver voices puppycat in bee and puppycat! and a vocaloid song actually mde it into a MARVEL MOVIE?? that one fucking sent me. its this one and it isnt even just miku whos the most mainstream its like. so many of them. we’re doing it u guys

yea most of my favs are the classics!! i could link my vocaloid megaplaylist but its. long. i only went bc i was like ‘THIS IS MY ONLY CHANCE TO SEE ANYTHING LIKE A VOCALOID CONCERT IN PERSON KIKUO MIGHT NEVER COME TO THE US AGAIN” and i had to have a friend drive me all the way to chicago for it (I Dont Live In Chicago) but it was worth it. i had one of the most fun times of my life lmao. i was JAMMIN. ive heard about the miku expo thign lmao. i think its bc miku is at coachella this weekend (?) or whatever so they might have taken her hologram tech there instead. LAME!

my other friends with aphantasia are artists as well so clearly it doesnt stop yall 💪 i do struggle with the blank canvas part lmao. but mostly i think i just find starting to be the hardest part of anything.

i think 90% of what oda says should be ignored LMAO. MY STORY NOW!! half joking. maybe a little more than half. when the live action cast talks about how much they respect him and how cool meeting and talking to him was i almost feel bad bc he seems like a kind and goofy guy a lot of the time, but oof, man really needs to evaluate his biases…

tumblr putting posts from early march on ur dash..

why does it do that. i hate that it does that. sometimes i post things and then purposely bury them with other posts so no one sees. TUMBLR PLEASE JUST SHOW MY SHIT IN ORDER

feel free to spam me i do it to other ppl all the time and i dont care at all lmao

I DONT USE TIKTOK (i did for a couple years in college but not anymore) BUT I . DFJNDKL. I ONLY KIND OF KNEW ABOUT THIS BC MY FRIEND SENT ME A REEL OF IT ON INSTAGRAM BUT I DIDNT KNOW IT WAS PRETTY POPULAR??? THATS SO FUN LMAO I LOVE IVA. THEY DESERVE THE FAME. ivankov being ur trans egg break is so weird to me bc it feels so recent but yea impel down came out in 2008 or 9….and also like. do you think oda knows. what he did. KDNFSJ if they bring sbs back (?) u should just sent in a letter like “oda thank u for showing me ivankov u made me realize i was nonbinary 👍” i wanna see what he says fkjvndkj

just now realizing how funny "transgenderism is a thrilling character trait" is thank you for that HAHA. i think he has done at least a little now (and iva is apparently based not only on dr frankenfurter but also a drag queen he knew irl?) but yea back then he needed. uh. a bit more. funny character was pretty much the extent of it. i mean he treated bon clay fairly well from all the way back in alabasta but sometimes i think about how bon clay’s jacket just says “OKAMA” on the back and it can. sometimes be considered a slur? i mean. would i wear a giant jacket that said fag on the back……yes duh. but like tHATS NOT THE POINT, and not everyone is okay w that!!

i remembered manboshi but not ryuboshi. 2gether we can remember the fishman royal family LMAO. god what was noahs ark supposed to be. i think it was supposed to take all of fishman island to the surface?? maybe. but i feel like it was more plot relevant than that. like poneglyph’s and gold roger were involved somehow. idk man im trusting oda to fit everything in before he ends the dang manga

i forget about the camie scene EVERY SINGLE TIME and EVERY SINGLE TIME i expect him to say panties and when he says money i always LOSE IT especially bc in the dub he sounds like mr krabs in that moment 😭

speaking of the water horses can we talk about how franky’s were named SODOM AND GOMORRAH. KDSFND. i made a comic about it that was probably too niche for most people to understand bc u have to have knowledge of dorian electra and also drag race and also the fact that those two random animal characters were named sodom and gomorrah.

SANJI WEARING COLORED CONTACTS TO FUCK WITH THE CREW XFKDJ. i can see him doing this but only to zoro. to piss him off. usopp’s in on it probably

i need a damn sanji gavel. someone on twitter goes by “ceo of sanji” and everyday i am jealous that i did not think of it first

people (dudebro powerscalers) always talk about whether zoro or sanji is stronger and i know oda has said/implied several times that theyre supposed to be different but equal but i mean. there’s quite a few small hints that zoro is supposed to be stronger. imo. as a sanji fan i must admit this. i mean making him taller by only 1 entire cm post timeskip. oda u were evil for that

“maybe its their diet?” its the crack cocaine - KJDNFSDO no that wouldnt make sense for cora but yea why. why are they so tall. i really think its just the weird way the world works. again i will blame gravity. bc im in the middle of big mom’s backstory rn and shes HUGE but ?? apparently not a giant?? SHE WAS JUST BIG??

tbh im not the best at character analysis either. i just read/watch/consume a lot of it and then parrot what i heard other ppl say to some degree (if it was supported by the text and had evidence and didnt seem . wrong. like i still evaluate it) but im bad about doing it myself. truthfully this probably stemmed from all those vocaloid videos i watched as a kid with insane strorylines that i always had to just go to the comments to have them explained to me. the songs being in japanese did not help 💀

i am not a multishipper bc i commit hard to one thing so i dont like most other sanji ships but sanuso gets a pass bc its very cute. lesbian sanji is beautiful. and yea im a little picky but as long as it isnt proship! go for it!!

i will do you one better and give u a link to the SBS + a translator who looked at the question.

AND IM THE SAME WAY i dont think its bc im sensitive to disappointment (well. i am actually but. in this case thats not the main reason) but because i like to think of the closest way i can get what i want with it being…realistic. thats the only reason i dont HC every single strawhat as gay in some way cause i was like i know oda would not. but i can meet him halfway. oda hear me out. 50% WE CAN DO 50%

TRANSMASC ZORO HITS SO DIFFERENT I AM WITH YOU THERE. part of it may be one of my closest friends is transmasc and has loved zoro forever so in my heart im like. yes. zoro is trans. for my friend. but also ive read quite a few trans zoro fics (i’d link them but theyre all zosan. Im Sorry) and the twist it puts on his relationship with kuina…is so cool. actually i take it back, just read this summary from neonglaceon on AO3:

JBSHJDKS IM REALLY NOT THAT CULTURED TRUST ME. if u havent seen the matilda movie…u should its a nostalgic childhood movie for me. its got danny devito…yea. and i only know cyrano de bergerac bc i saw it performed at a local university and goddd it was my first time seeing live theatre and i was. ENTRANCED

YOU KNOW WHAT? YEA. TRANS GAY RUDOLPH. HE’S AN OUTCAST LIKE US OK!! i will take any allegory for someone being an outcast/social pariah and be like “oh so gay allegory? so gay coding?”

ok but t4t frobin and chopper their little trans son…stop thats so cute

so glad to see u can send images now. i will close off by asking 1. any fav op content creators/artists/blogs?

and give u this image

#asks #replies #march anon #but ...urnot anon anymore #aarghstop #long post

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manysmallhands · 3 months

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The Deep Tate

This is a piece that I was going to do for another website, a kind of “ten songs to know her by’”, but it’s gotten away from that a bit so I thought I’d just put it up here and then if no one reads it then that’s pretty standard anyway. I've done a playlist which i've placed at the end, featuring all the songs i that mentioned along the way (a few too many than i was supposed to talk about).

Canadian pop star Tate Mcrae is a precocious talent, a viral sensation who’d managed to catapult herself to fame before she’d even left her teens. I’ve only known about her for a few months now but she’s already captured me as a fan, with her second album “Think Later” quickly becoming one of my favourites of last year. Mcrae started out in her (even younger) youth as a professional dancer, uploading her self penned songs to YouTube alongside videos of her routines. She first broke into the charts in 2020 - aged just 17 - with the moody revenge ballad You Broke Me First, a massive international hit during lockdown that clocked up over a billion streams on Spotify.

From there, she began to navigate the trickier dance of establishing herself as a regular chart fixture, reaching the UK Top 10 with her increasingly pop/rock focused debut LP, “I Used To Think I Could Fly” in 2022. But the real story is what she’s done since then: 2023 was a huge year for her as she collaborated with OneRepublic star and Taylor Swift associate Ryan Tedder, adopting a more straightforward pop sound and taking the charts by storm. Much of this was down to "Greedy", one of the biggest songs of last year, which took an entertaining swipe at sleazy older men and went top three in every country you might feasibly shake a stick at. Added to that, the release of the excellent ‘Think Later’ album helped to cement her reputation as one of pop’s megastars in waiting.

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Though there’s plenty of earlier material (her first viral hit, the characteristically accomplished “One Day”, was written and recorded when she was just 14 years old), it’s probably best to start with "You Broke Me First". Tate’s first big hit was something that she struggled to outgrow for a while but its uncomfortable intensity still feels striking. Built around a narrative of betrayal, its heroine recounts the hurt of being dumped and her understandable refusal to take the repentant boyfriend back: so far so standard. But what sticks out about it is the low-key vicious tone that underpins the song: the title is a big hint that this is her moment of vengeance and she intends to milk it for all it’s worth. The doomy synthetic backing plays up all of this heavily and the distorted autotune on her slightly husky, cute but tough vocal style only adds to the unnerving vibe of it all. Is this “serious” music? I’m going to say it sounds a lot like it.

But for a while afterwards, whilst not really dropping out of sight, Mcrae did appear to get stuck in the mode of moody trap ballad girl, marketed as a kind of junior Billie Eilish (with whom she’d collaborated previously on the track “Tear Myself Apart”) and seeming to lack a clear-cut identity of her own. 2021’s “Too Young To Be Sad” EP was actually pretty good, with the softer styled “r u ok” (as much as it’s a Billie clone, it is at least a good one) and the warm acoustic closer “Wish I Loved You In The 90s” being particular highlights. But a distinct fault was that it tended to get caught up pursuing lesser versions of her big single to slightly diminishing returns, something that was made all the more obvious by its inclusion. There’s a pattern after a little known singer has a huge hit that looks a lot like ‘bloody hell, what do we do now?’, with talented kids often finding out that they’ve not got much else in the locker. While the quality didn’t drop all that much, the hits were not forthcoming and it looked like Mcrae was starting to tread water a bit.

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But by the time of her first full length album, 2022’s “I Used To Think I Could Fly”, she was beginning to find her way somewhat more purposefully, albeit still in a slightly haphazard manner. Some of its best songs come from a turn to breezy pop rock, with “She’s All I Wanna Be” in particular providing her with both a standout track and a welcome hit single. Centred around comparing herself to the hot girl who threatens her relationship, Mcrae is still working thru her adolescent anxieties but the tone is lighter, the guitars let rip a bit and, combined with her ever keen sense of melody (the characteristic through-line that connects all of her best songs) the whole feels a lot more fun than she’d hitherto managed to project.

That’s not to say that her sad girl tunes were in any sense gone but neither were they all a wash out: indeed much of the strength of her songwriting at this point comes down to the touching believability of her teenager set pieces. The defiant “I’m So Gone” combines a break-up narrative with a punchier trap pop sound, and while there are still a few straightforward YBMF reruns, they were often pretty good once you got used to her patter (the piano led “Chaotic” is a particular highlight). It was clearly a good idea for her to start mixing up her sound though and songs like the wonderfully trashy rocker “What Would You Do?” are an entertaining diversion from all the misery, mining some attitude to clap back at a neglectful boyfriend in a lyrical style that would in time become a lot more familiar. The album still has the odd duffer here and there but the message was clear: Tate was on her way!

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While “I Used To Think I Could Fly” feels like a pretty good debut, it’s not without its flaws. Some of the songs come off as a bit flimsy and there’s also a sense in which it feels more like a grab bag than a fully coherent project. The production roll includes Adele collaborator Greg Kurstin alongside other star names like Charlie Puth and Finneas O’Connell and while there’s certainly a lot of talent on show, it also sounds like a great many cooks are gathered around the pot. But since she released her excellent second album, Tate has entered something approaching a state of grace for me (A Tate Of Grace? A State Of Tate?) and i’ve found it generally easier to get along with her earlier stuff too.

Her shift to a higher level began in late 2022, firstly on the twinkly, bass driven “Uh-Oh” and then more powerfully with“10.35”, a banging DJ/pop girl collaboration with Tiësto that finally managed to push her back into the UK Top 10. Playing to her melodic strengths, it takes the moodiness of You Broke Me First but allies it to a beat that goes enjoyably hard, with her knack for a tune sweetening its combination of dancefloor darkness and pop bounce. This was followed last autumn by a second full-on megahit, "Greedy", the first Tate Mcrae song I heard and one that seems likely to be her signature tune for a while to come. Built around a 00s era Timberland-style beat, Tate recounts a nightclub discussion with an older guy who comes onto her, only to be told “I’ll put you thru hell just to know me yeah yeah!” during its swooping, almost bombastic chorus. Greedy was a mass of insistent hooks, rolling rhythms and snappy hot girl catchphrases that became an instant hit, camping out in the UK Top 5 for weeks on end and hitting #1 on a dozen charts around the world, including her native Canada and the Billboard Global 200.

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Aside from the stylistic changes she’d made since her last round in the spotlight, perhaps the most significant difference from "You Broke Me First" was that this time Mcrae had come prepared with some solid follow ups. Her next single "Exes" kept up the high standard and closed out the year with another top 20 hit. Propelled by a harder trap rhythm than previous efforts, the song is built around an almost childishly gleeful vocal that plays on her new, edgier image, calling out her old boyfriends in a kind of Canadian version of the “Am I bovvered?” routine whilst singing in a fast paced, almost hip hop-style which engagingly breaks through the rhythm of the song. Tate says that she “steps into a different body sometimes when I’m doing songs like Greedy and Exes” and certainly the change here from her previous mopery feels both bracing and wickedly enjoyable.

The album, “Think Later”, followed at the end of the year and was to my mind a much better record that its predecessor. Whereas that LP had at times felt a bit ponderous, producer Ryan Tedder’s rattling beats and snappy arrangements gave "Think Later" a new level of firepower, creating a much more energetic backdrop for Tate’s various romantic misadventures. And this time, rather than simply bemoaning her situation, she seemed far more likely to be putting herself in the driving seat: whether it was her dreams of snaring someone else’s boyfriend amidst the catchy synth attack of "Hurt My Feelings" or the bad girl adventures of the thumping title track, Tate often plays an intriguing central character, one who’s far more liable to be causing mischief than weeping away in private. The more forceful propulsion also keeps the ballads from becoming too gloomy and, just occasionally, as on the excellent messy relationship confessional "Stay Done", Mcrae and her team manage to create something genuinely beautiful, as she calls on all of her melodic gifts and sweet natured charm to turn in a gorgeous acoustic tearjerker.

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“Think Later” has only been out for a couple of months but it already looks set to be a bigger album than its predecessor and her sustained success has led some to speculate whether Tate might be pop’s Next Big Thing, a role seemingly now vacant in this more ephemeral era of Tik Tok hits and viral sensations (a landscape that, as a Youtube native, she appears more confident in than many of her peers). My own feeling is that, while I love her records dearly, I’m unsure whether she’s up to making that transition. Certainly, Mcrae seems to me not quite the finished article. She still needs to take more quality control over the sad girl stuff - whilst it generally works much better on "Think Later", the album closes with two underwhelming ballads, at least one of which should have been left off the record. And while she's perfectly attuned to the swirl of youthful romantic concerns that underpin many of her best songs, attempts to go deeper seem to stumble just a little, with a song like "Calgary" being a case in point - a serious acoustic number which works well aside from a slight clumsiness in the lyrics.

But there's still plenty of time for her to reach perfection. Despite having been around for a while now, it’s useful to remember that she’s only 20 years old: even Taylor Swift wasn’t on her best game for another couple of albums yet. And maybe it doesn't matter that much anyway. I don’t claim anything very sophisticated for Tate Mcrae - no trails are being blazed here - but in terms of my own experience, the most important questions are: would I rather be listening to her than some more acclaimed act who offers far less fun, energy and/or melodramatic weight? Absolutely! Do I often find myself singing along inappropriately to "Greedy", despite not in fact being a 20 year old hot girl superstar? Guilty as charged! The bottom line here is all that she’s already achieved: she’s a talented artist creating consistently thrilling music, the creator of both a songworld that feels increasingly immersive and a style that’s evolved intelligently under huge pressure and, perhaps most importantly, someone who is starting to up the stakes with each successive release. More than anything, she’s a young woman who’s navigated the challenge of moving on from uploading YouTube videos of herself singing into a webcam to taking on the international charts, not just once but several times over. Given that form, I wouldn’t bet against her. As she says on "Think Later", “I do it so well”.

#Tate Mcrae #Pop Music #Greedy #Exes #You Broke Me First #The Deep Tate #Higher Tate Of Consciousness #Tate Of Grace #Tate Of Emergency #Songs Of Love And Tate #Spotify

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artsyjesseblue · 2 years

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So Safe and Warm

I don’t know about you guys, but when I finish watching an episode of a show and they roll ads right at the end - if I can - I skip immediately to the next episode, or change the channel, or whatever, I turn off the TV if I’m too tired to watch more episodes.

So, what if I told you there’s an episode in VLD where there’s a “commercial” right at the end, but we’re tempted to skip it, because, well, the bulk of the episode is already over. After all, it’s just an advertisement, like the other silly ones, peppered across the 23 minutes of the episode. Only it’s not so silly.

You probably guessed it - I’m referring to the episode called “The Feud”. Right at the end, after Bob says goodbye, the Paladins wake up, Coran tells them Bob is an all-powerful inter-dimensional being, after Keith calls Bob a “jerk”, after Lance complains he’s “not that dumb”… right after that, the screen switches to another ad! And I’m not sure I skipped it before, but in any case, I don’t remember it, maybe I just didn’t pay attention to it.

This one is basically not an ad in Bob’s show, because they already got out of there. It’s an ad inside the regular VLD episode; so it’s addressed to us, the real audience, not Bob’s fictional audience. An invitation to Queen Luxia’s underwater kingdom! And just about at the end of the ad, there’s a big group photo with all the pretty merpeople surrounding Luxia, and a big-big illegible text in mer-alphabet pops up above their heads. Supposedly it says something about Luxia’s kingdom.

Only it doesn’t… literally say “Luxia’s Kingdom”.

Check this out:

Does that actually read… A…l…t…e…a?

Holy mackerel!! ”Luxia’s Kingdom” is in fact “Altea”.

What’s also lighting up my bulbs is the similarity between the muscular mer-guys flanking the queen and Lotor’s loyal sentries from the colony. Look at those face masks they wear, the ear designs, that white protruding thing on top of their heads, the large shoulder pads, also - the white pockets!

So, following the good spirit of inserting hidden messages into the episode**, this one tells us not only who is behind all the meddling in VLD (World Events or WEP - see this TPL article by Crystal Rebellion), but it points directly at what we are supposed to know (and which, unsurprisingly, we never found out, because Bob interfered). We’re supposed to go figure out the meaning of the episode “The Depths” - yes, the one with the mermaids, because it basically points to ALTEA. The underwater world of Queen Luxia*** is the hidden colony of Alteans and Lotor is the mer-queen. And we find out that the mer-theories about Luxia are false, the queen was actually one of the good guys after all, and the story has a happy ending. And it’s so safe and warm, you’ll wanna stay forever.

**Another way to emphasize that the creators really meant to insert meaning into that alien alphabet (so it’s not just a random coincidence, we’re not making this up), is to take a look at the other ads inside the episode. Take for instance the Vrepit Sal’s ad - which is easier to figure out. If you rearrange the symbols, it’s really Vrepit (and there might be a little Sal’s, too, but the symbols are too small on my screen to figure them out). The “Terra II” guy is really a piece of cake and there’s no doubt it’s what it says, but if anyone has the time and courage to tackle the techno-babble symbols written underneath in blue… be my guest. It’s intriguing enough that the text starts with “IP”…

*** “The Depths” has been already deciphered by Leakinghate: go read this meta.

#vld meta #lotor #prince lotor #voltron legendary defender #lotor deserved better #The Feud #vld #altea #mermaids #I knew there was something fishy in this episode #jesseblue writes #Initially I titled my meta Something’s Fishy on Altea but I think it sounded awful LOL 😆

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canis-or-cannotis-lycaon · 11 months

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Magna-tudes of Deep Discussion

TIMING: A few weeks ago LOCATION: A Latte to Love PARTIES: Cass and Gael SUMMARY: Gael promised to pay Cass for information about volcanoes. What they end up talking about is deeper than that. CONTENT WARNINGS: None Gael already seemed to have a “regular” here and he’d only been here twice in the past week. Then again… he’d already been at the little cafe twice this week. And he wore his glasses today like a hipster. Perhaps he should’ve told the girl he met online that he was supposed to be looking for in person what HE looked like.

Well, at least he was more prepared this time and while Gael didn’t tell her what he looked like, he did have a piece of paper with the name “CASS” written on it in thick black marker. And fortunately for him, he was sitting along the wall so he had the sign taped just above and behind him so whoever this supposed Cass was could at least find the sign. He did already have his notebook out, completing his look of either “homeless journalist” or “absent-minded professor” as he rifled through the pages fondly until he found the one labeled appropriately for the volcano enthusiast. While he traced back over the old pages of information he’d gathered, Gael kept his peripheral vision alert enough so he wouldn’t get unnecessarily surprised by the girl who was supposed to show up; he was on edge more often lately, which he didn’t like but he blamed the awful stench in the air. ___________________

It was always a little risky, binding someone in public. Usually, Cass would switch over to private messaging once she’d gotten the word or words she was looking for and inform the person that they owed her something, sometimes choosing to educate them in the process, but often just allowing the bind to do its thing. But… she’d noticed that people got upset when she did that. Metzli certainly had, and Eli hadn’t reacted much better. And she liked Gael. She thought Gael was neat. She didn’t want to upset him or make him dislike her. If she did this right, she thought, she could get the undisclosed amount of money he’d promised her without him ever knowing he’d been bound at all. Then she could afford a couple of meals and get a new friend out of the deal.

Or… maybe just one meal. She felt a little disappointed when she caught sight of him, endearingly sitting under a sign with her name scrawled on it so she could find him more easily. He didn’t look like someone who had a lot of money to take. If she were looking for a mark to pickpocket, he wouldn’t have even made the top ten. With the hair and the glasses and the frazzled appearance, he looked more homeless than Cass did, and she was the one who actually lived in a cave in the woods.

But something was still better than nothing, and she still had her end of the promise to uphold, too. So she trotted over to the table, slipping into the seat across from him and waving a hand. “Hi,” she greeted with a bright smile. “I’m Cass. Like the sign!” ___________________ One moment Gael was casually thumbing through the various amounts of knowledge he’d accrued through other people and the next he was greeted by a girl who had taken the seat opposite him and offered him a smile. She was as young-looking as he had imagined her online, with dark hair and a rather youthful expression that betrayed her wisdom pertaining to money and knowledge. He glanced up at her with his own warm smile before looking over his shoulder at the sign. “Thank you! One day, I’ll realize that I should probably give people more to look for if we meet in person.” He turned his head again and regarded himself. “Sorry if I look a mess; today was one of those ‘comfort’ days, you know?” Gael waved himself off dismissively. “It’s good to meet you in person, Cass!” He said lightly. “Would you like for me to buy you a drink first, maybe break the ice or are you more to-the-point?” He asked, opening his journal to the page that had her name on it in neat lettering along with the factoids she’d already given him. And a poorly-drawn volcano in the corner. “Because I’m flexible; as I mentioned online, I don’t want to waste your time or energy but I just… I wanted to hear the passion in your voice.” He seemed to move in his chair as he said that and his expression got more enthusiastic as he kept his brown eyes on his new acquaintance. ___________________ Thank you. Cass smiled, nodding her head. “You’re welcome,” she replied, putting the thanks in her proverbial ‘piggy bank.’ She probably wouldn’t use it, but it would be good to have. The promise was great, but it was a little more restrictive. With a thanks, you could twist things into whatever you wanted them to be. Cass had always liked it a little more than she should. “I don’t think you look messy. I’ve seen a lot of people look a lot worse.” It was certainly the truth. She’d looked a lot messier than he did now; it was a miracle she didn’t at the moment. Living in a cave was nice and all, but it didn’t come with laundry or a shower.

“It’s good to meet you, too! I think we can start with a drink and break the ice. No need to rush or anything, right? I mean, I don’t have anywhere else to go.” It wasn’t like she had a real job to get to, and there was no one waiting for her at home. She figured the former probably wasn’t true for Gael, but maybe the latter was. Selfishly, she hoped so. If he was lonely, too, maybe he’d want to be friends. “Like I said, I’m happy to talk about it. I like talking about it. It’s fun. Most people just don’t want to listen for very long. Which, um, if you — If you get tired of it, you can let me know. I get it.” ___________________

“Well that’s good to know. I mean, I ain’t gonna judge someone for how they dress on their day off.” Gael replied, internally glad that she didn’t seemingly judge him too harshly based on first impressions, not that he was making a great one superficially. “I also have nowhere else to go; the rest of my afternoon is dedicated to spending time with you, señorita.” He assured her, maintaining eye contact with her as he spoke to establish that he wasn’t lying. That was something he learned very early on as a child, especially with four siblings - eye contact was important to making sure you meant what you said. Gael reached into his pocket and pulled out a ten-dollar bill, sliding it across the table to Cass. “Get yourself something to eat or drink or whatever you’d like then when you come back we can start the interrogation.” He said with mock seriousness but didn’t let it sit long before he leaned back and scoffed. “Joking, of course. But I would like to know more about you. And the stuff about the volcanoes of course; you can tell me all you want about those.” He said before adding “And don’t worry, I won’t cut you off or tell you to stop; I don’t know if I’d be able to live with myself if I did that.” A pause. “...I guess if we were in a life-or-death situation then MAYBE but certainly not now.” ___________________

“Me, either,” Cass assured him quickly. Judgment was something she generally tried to avoid where she could. If you didn’t want people to judge you, you had to avoid judging them where you could. Even the criminals she went after as Magma weren’t people she passed judgment on; Cass knew better than most that most crime came from a place of desperation. She never called the police on the criminals she thwarted unless they were dangerous. “Really? You blocked off the whole day?” She wasn’t sure anyone had ever done that for her before. It left a warmth in her chest, a quiet joy. Someone wanted to hang out with her enough to set aside time. When had that ever happened before?

Taking the bill, Cass offered Gael a grin and stood. “Start prepping your questions,” she teased, making her way to the front counter. She couldn’t help but wonder just what he planned on asking her. The volcano questions she was more than prepared for, but questions about her? Some days, she didn’t feel she knew herself at all. She’d stripped herself down to nothing and rebuilt herself as what the people around her wanted her to be so many times now that it seemed impossible to know what was real and what wasn’t, and she wasn’t sure what Gael wanted her to be. She’d figure it out, though. She always did. With a coffee and a scone in hand, she returned to the table and settled back down. “Okay,” she said, “fire away! What do you want to know?” ___________________ “Well, sure.” The professor gave a half-shrug. “I’m here to get to know you; if anyone else has a problem with it, unless it’s - once again - a life-or-death situation then they can wait. I’m talking to Cass, the Volcano Expert right now and they’re going to have to be okay with that.” Gael said matter-of-factly with a nod to emphasize his point. Thinking of questions, thinking of questions. Gael did that often, both thinking and questions. He cast her a smile as she took the cash and went to place her order. What did he want to know more about her without her thinking that he was being a weirdo? Well, hobbies aside from geology and place of origin might be good ones. He could also go the more superficial route and ask for standard opinions like favorite color and song choices. He remembered that she liked comics; that could be something worth talking about since she also seemed to have an interest in those. She didn’t seem to have a desire for school or a job, so he probably wasn’t going to press for those and while she said that money was overhyped, she did seem enthusiastic to jump on his offer to pay her for sharing her extensive knowledge of volcanoes with him. Then again, she was also young and he had spent enough time around kids to know that only the foolish or entitled among them would refuse money. He waited until she returned to the table when he took his hands apart from being laced on the surface, placing them palm-down now and he observed her for a few short moments. “I want to know about you!” Gael replied lightly. “I know you really like volcanoes but what else? Do you have any other hobbies? How old are you? From whence do you hail?” He asked the questions in a row, but made sure to include a little space between them to not make it seem like he was actually firing questions at her. “Also I’m here to let you know that you’re under no obligation to answer any of these. I’m just curious about you.” He recalled her surprisingly mature wisdom online, about how he thought she was rather strange but that it certainly wasn’t a bad thing. ___________________

It wasn’t as if no one had ever been curious about her before. In fact, plenty of people had. People wanted to know more about her when she stumbled across groups of them on the streets, asked her questions when she’d joined up with other groups throughout her journey. But it was only ever to determine how useful she might be. As much as Cass might have liked to pretend otherwise, she’d always known that curiosity about her and where she came from was so often tied to what purpose she might serve in some greater plan or heist, how she might be able to help people get ahead. Everyone had an angle. And maybe Gael did, too. Maybe she just hadn’t figured it out yet. But wasn’t it nice to pretend otherwise? Wasn’t it nice to let herself think, for a second, that someone might want to get to know her just for her and not for someone else?

As she settled back into her seat, she couldn’t help but lean forward a little. Anticipation was an itchy thing, crawling over her skin like the insects back in her cave, wanting to know what he might ask. The questions could help her better determine why he wanted to know what he wanted to know; with them in mind, she could better shape herself into what he wanted her to be. She was good at that, even if she wasn’t very good at lying. You could twist the truth however you needed to twist it if you were desperate enough. You could want to believe something so badly that your mind convinced itself it wasn’t a lie at all.

But Gael’s questions did little to clear up his intentions. Cass was careful not to let the confusion show on her face as she propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin upon her hand, considering the questions. “I like comic books,” she said. “Superheroes. Movies, TV, all of it. I, um, I’m nineteen, but I’ll be twenty… next month.” Probably. No one had ever bothered to tell her her actual birthday, but she liked July well enough to claim it for herself. “I’m from Hawai’i, but I haven’t lived there in a long time. I’ve been all over since I left. I’ve been to every state at least once now, except Alaska.” Granted, most of them she’d only passed through, but she was counting it. “What about you? Where are you from?” ___________________ The professor kept his eyes on her as she spoke. He knew she liked comic books but the extent, which was a mystery to him before, was increased. Superheroes, the noble aspirations of children everywhere personified as an adult to look up to, learn lessons from, befriend on a page when they might not have had any in real life. He understood the sentiment as one who spent many a night with his nose in the pages of worn novels. Gael also seemed to have been right on her approximate age - he could only make educated guesses online but nineteen checked out. ___________________ When Cass mentioned that she was from Hawai’i, Gael shifted slightly in his seat; it had been a while since he met an individual from so far away. Even more surprising was that she’d reportedly been to every state, save Alaska. He wondered if she was perhaps counting passing through states to get to another via a road trip. By that measure, he had been to more states than he told people. Even if that was what she was doing, it’s not as though he was going to question it. “Hawai’i, I’ve heard that it’s beautiful,” He exhaled with a small smile. “The distance between there and here is great, though; I’ve met a handful of people now who are from the west coast.” He wasn’t telling her what she already knew insomuch as he was musing aloud but that wasn’t important, just an observation. “Me?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. “I’m from Guatemala,” He replied lightly. “More south than west but also quite a ways away. I moved to the states when I was eight years old.” He had another sip of his drink, glancing at nothing in particular as he remembered his family. “Four sisters and my parents.” He said softly, then looked at the girl again. “What about you? Do you have any family?” ___________________

Being from Hawai’i always made her interesting. Someone told her once, years ago, that Hawai’i wasn’t a place where people were from. It was a place people went, a place where they stayed temporarily when they needed a break from the real world. As if the island wasn’t part of the real world, as if there weren’t people stuck in that island traffic who were just trying to get to work, to get home, to live their lives. People forgot, sometimes, that they weren’t at the center of things. They went to places where other people lived and they called it a tourist destination.

But Gael didn’t seem to be like that. Cass smiled, glad that he didn’t start in with some dream of a far-off vacation the way some people tended to do. “It is beautiful,” she replied quietly, and she hated that it was so hard to think of the place where she’d been born without aching. It was hard to separate the pain of being forced out from the beauty of the island. “People here are from all over,” she agreed, thinking of the ones she’d met already. Different countries, different continents. Wicked’s Rest, it seemed, was a place where anyone could belong. Cass just hoped that could extend to her, too.

“Was it a big change? Moving from there to here? Did you move to Wicked’s Rest when you were eight?” She was asking too many questions and she knew it, but it was hard not to. She wanted to know everything, because the more you knew about people the better you could make yourself into someone they might like. And Cass wanted Gael to like her. Cass wanted everyone to like her, but Gael was nice and kind and she wanted him to like her especially. Her expression faltered, though, when he asked about her family. She shrugged, looking down at the food in front of her and wondering why the ravenous appetite she’d walked in with seemed to be waning now. “No,” she admitted. “My mom gave me up when I was a baby, and my dad left before I was born. I don’t know if I have any other family.” ___________________ His heart sank as Cass talked about her unfortunate family life, or lack thereof. Gael couldn’t imagine not having his family around, his support network always there for him to reach for when he was drowning. He had met a great many kids and young adults who had negative upbringings and he had learned that the best thing he could do, the best way he could help was just to try to provide the support and encouragement that they might not’ve received from anywhere else. Granted, he didn’t know each of those kids before getting TO know them - for all he knew, Cass had a healthy and thriving support network elsewhere whether it was friends she’d made or found family. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories,” He said gently, sympathetically. He also didn’t want to accidentally exacerbate those negative feelings that might’ve been starting to churn inside her by saying that he’d think her parents would be proud of her. So, Gael just… did what he knew and that was to answer her question, albeit with more grace and fewer details than he would’ve included before. “It was a big change - I moved to Arizona when I was eight. I actually didn’t move here until a few months ago.” He answered. He inhaled and stirred the straw in his drink absently. “The best kind of family is the one you make,” He said slowly, hoping he wouldn’t upset her too badly. “Like here; I moved here in January, no family yet.” Gael explained. “But I have a roommate and I’ve hung out with several people, like you!” He smiled. “So maybe not familia but friends?” A pause. “You’re special, Cass. I can feel it in my old man bones.” His expression was earnest, keeping his dark eyes on her and fully prepared to have said the wrong thing and driven her off. “The old man bones don’t lie.” ___________________

When it came to family, Cass often told herself that it was better to not have one than to have one and lose it. She’d seen so many people ache with that loss, seen it reflected in Van’s eyes when they played Go Fish and she avoided the subject. To never have something was to never know the pain of losing it. But hearing Gael talk about his family, seeing that spark in his eye as he mentioned them… That left an ache, too. And how could she say which ache was worse when it was impossible to feel them both? How could anyone know definitively whether it was better to have loved and lost or to have never loved at all when no one could possibly achieve them simultaneously?

She smiled softly at Gael’s apology, shaking his head. “No, it’s okay. There’s no bad memories.” How could she have bad memories of her family when she had no memories of them at all? Still, it was a relief to move on to a different topic. She tried to imagine Gael, at eight years old, being pulled from one country to another. Was it scary? Confusing? She’d been both scared and confused when she’d moved from Hawai’i to the mainland, but she’d done it alone. Was it easier, maybe, to do it with a family? “Do you like it? The US, Wicked’s Rest, all of it. Do you like it here?”

As Gael continued, Cass averted her eyes. Building your own family, sure. She loved comic books and movies and shows where people did just that, watched them with wide eyes and bated breath. But she’d never been sure she was capable of it herself. People left. It was a simple fact of life, the only thing that had ever remained constant. Cass loved and loved and loved, and people left. No matter how special Gael’s bones told him she was. But she forced a smile, anyway, glad that she could lie with her expression even if she couldn’t do it with her words. You got good at working around the rules, as a fae. “Friends are good,” she agreed. “Friends are really good.” She just didn’t have any. At least, none that she wasn’t sure would disappear. “Do you have a lot of them?” ___________________

He contemplated her questions and he tapped his chin in thought once more. “I do, largely,” Gael responded, recalling how they’d gotten all their things together, how they essentially all moved so that his eldest sister wouldn’t go to the states by herself. His father didn’t take it very well but he adjusted. “Like it here, I mean.” He added. “The States have some problems but I think one would be hard-pressed to find a place anywhere that’s entirely perfect. And Wicked’s Rest is very curious but I really enjoy it here.” A smile crossed his face now. “I’ve met so many people, already learned so many interesting things from everyone.”

Gael wasn’t exaggerating as he thought back on the past couple weeks… sure, there were a few setbacks but largely, the weird supernatural stuff he refused to acknowledge aside, he HAD met a lot of people from many walks of life, some of which changed his life. “I like to think I do,” the professor said, looking over at Cass and catching her smile, responding with one of his own though his expression was bright and optimistic. “Friends are just strangers you haven’t met yet, after all.” He had heard that saying a long time ago and while it was probably foolish, he liked to think it was mostly true. He also really wanted to believe that people were largely, inherently good. Sure, truly evil things did exist - he went to church, after all - but on the day-to-day basis, he saw people who just needed some help most of the time. Bad things, not bad guys.

He was foolish, he knew. “Then again, I have no way of knowing, truly, if all those people I just thought of would call me their friend.” Gael mused. “I try to keep an easygoing approach to relationships nowadays - some of them aren’t friendships and sometimes you spend a lot of time with someone only to find out that it either wasn’t what you thought it was going to be or that person was putting on a mask for however long the relationship lasts.” He furrowed his brow as he moved his finger, as though double-checking to make sure the sentence was arranged correctly in his head. “So that can be rough but ideally if someone were to ask me to be their friend, I wouldn’t have the heart to say no; even if I’m their only friend or even the only person they know, that means they aren’t alone, right?” He asked, keeping his dark eyes on her. ___________________

“There are a lot of cool people here,” she agreed. “I like it, too.” It had taken her a long time to like the continental United States after she’d ‘left’ her aos si. For all the mistreatment she’d faced there, there had been an undeniable sense of community among the nymphs she’d grown up with. It just… hadn’t been a community that Cass was a part of. And it wasn’t their fault, she knew; she was just too much. Too curious, too loud, too unruly. Anyone would have cast her aside, wouldn’t they? But losing that community still hurt, and she’d spent a lot of time hating the mainland as a result. But she liked it now. She liked it here, in Wicked’s Rest. There were people like Gael here, people who might decide to like her if she put on the right mask. Maybe even for more than just a little while.

But Gael spoke of the disappointment of learning that someone you’d befriended was wearing a mask, and Cass felt her heartbeat pick up just a little as the nerves struck her. He wouldn’t want to be her friend if he knew the real her, of course; no one ever had. But would he resent her if he inevitably discovered that she wasn’t who she pretended to be? Would he hate her for it? It wasn’t as if she’d be outright lying to him — she wasn’t much good at that.

“There have to be some people you don’t want to be friends with,” she pointed out, glancing down at the table uncertainly. “Nobody wants to be friends with everyone.” Even Cass, who craved approval so much that she often felt she might choke on it, had met a few people she couldn’t help but dislike. People who were mean or scary or violent, people who scared her or upset her. The world wasn’t full of wonderful people; she knew that from experience. “Maybe there are some people who deserve to be alone, too.” She thought she might. After Kuma, after Debbie, after all of it… She thought she probably deserved at least some of that loneliness she felt. ___________________ “People who deserve to be alone?” Gael repeated, raising a brow in thought. “I don’t know. Everyone has at least someone, I figure.” He mused. The thoughts that trailed through his head were obvious examples but he was sure most people didn’t fit that criteria of checkboxes that warranted being alone. Humans were social creatures and they didn’t function too well by themselves - even the ones who insisted they didn’t need anyone had at least a pet or a companion of some sort. He gave a small, one-sided shrug. “I’m sure there are some but I don’t know if I’m the one who gets to judge people like that.” He replied. “And there are a lot of factors that contribute to a group’s assessment on whether or not an individual ‘deserves’ to be alone.” Gael inhaled softly as he said this and he himself traced a small thought in his head, the one that led to a dark mire in his mind where he thought of the inevitability of what would happen if HE were told that he deserved to be alone. He shook his head and cleared his throat. “But I’m the type of really annoying guy that tries to make things work,” He smiled. “Not everyone can vibe with everyone but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try.” The tapping returned to Gael’s chin after he finished off his drink. “And sometimes, it just doesn’t but I can say that I did my best. And most of the time, it seems to help.” He leaned back in his seat, placing a hand on his lower back as he stretched it with a grunt. “Apologies niña, didn’t mean to lecture you… We can change the topic whenever you’d like.” The apology was said with a light scoff but it was said in earnest - he had a habit of getting onto his soapbox, even if it was small, which he was sure did him no favors when he was talking to acquaintances. ___________________

Was it true that no one deserved a life of solitude? Cass would like to believe so, but it was so strange to think. But she also knew enough to know that people rarely deserved what she got. There were people worse than her who still had families who loved them, people better than her who didn’t. She thought of Van in her big empty house, of Nora with her tattered clothes in the streets of New York. If people got what they deserved, her friends would have been dealt better hands.

Or maybe not. What factors did contribute to such a decision? Nora and Van had their parts in what had happened to Debbie, too; Nora was the one holding the knife, in the end. Worrying her lip between her teeth, Cass couldn’t help but ask, “Factors like what?” If she didn’t know, maybe Gael could tell her. He seemed smart.

Of course, he also seemed like the kind of person who would lie to protect her feelings. It was admirable, in a way, but a lie was still a lie. It didn’t matter if your intentions were good, didn’t matter if you were doing everything you knew how to do to make someone feel okay. Lying stung the same. “That’s okay,” she said, finding that the idea of changing the topic was more and more tempting as they went on. “But, um, we can talk about something else, if you want. Did you have any more questions you wanted to ask?” ___________________ “Okay, okay, factors real quick then we’ll switch topics,” Gael nodded before turning to the back of his journal and tearing out a page. “SO what factors determine whether or not a group of people - and we’re generalizing because no group of humans is going to be a hivemind,” He explained, his tone suddenly becoming even and maybe even a little louder. “So there are two categories - mutable and immutable.” He drew a quick, messy diagram as he spoke. “Immutable characteristics are things that are generally perceived can’t be changed; a few big ones are biological sex, sexual orientation and race.” He wrote those down. “People can discriminate based on these immutable characteristics but those people are called, if you’ll pardon the terminology, idiots.” He exhaled. “So don’t even worry about those; if someone judges you based on those factors, their opinion isn’t worth anything.” Gael crossed those out. “Mutable characteristics are more likely what we’re talking about.” He started writing the other list. “This one is a lot more extensive and subjective - we’re talking lifestyle, accents, what you decide to color your hair… pretty much anything that you have the power to change.” He explained. “Each of these are reasons why people might think someone ‘deserves to be alone’.” He paused. “And it’s… ridiculous because so many of these are what make people unique.” His cadence slowed down and his eyes danced over the page. He cleared his throat, shaking his head. “Then there are some things like ‘choosing to be a serial killer’ or ‘routinely breaking the law’, both of which are mutable but the first one is generally frowned upon by modern society and the second one is a case-by-case basis,” Gael explained, scooting the paper towards Cass. “Just keep in mind that any of these–” He tapped the paper with the pen. “Are aspects of what makes you you. And if someone thinks you deserve to be alone because of any of these, then they aren’t worth your time.” He said earnestly, keeping his eyes on her. “There’s a difference between ‘opting out of a relationship’ and ‘telling someone they deserve to be alone’.” ___________________

Cass watched with a faint fascination as Gael wrote. She wondered, though she was too afraid to ask, if her unglamoured form counted as one of those immutable factors. It wasn’t something she could change, though it was something she could hide. Were the people who’d seen it and been afraid counted among the ‘idiots’ Gael was referring to now? She thought of Kuma, of the fear in her eyes when she’d come home to find Cass covered in rock and magma, when she’d screamed and ordered her away. She didn’t think Kuma had been an idiot. She’d just been scared.

She pushed those thoughts away, because they weren’t the ones that mattered. Whether her unglamoured form was a valid reason for people to avoid her or not, it wasn’t something she could change. Gael said that the mutable characteristics, like the immutable ones, didn’t make a person deserving of loneliness, and there was some relief in that. Cass smiled faintly, feeling a little relieved…

Until he continued. Because those things could probably be applied to her, too, couldn’t they? She might not have hurt Kuma directly, but she could recognize that the woman’s death by broken promise was something that wouldn’t have happened if not for her. And though she hadn’t been the one to plunge that knife into Debbie, she’d still hurt her beforehand. She’d still helped to hide the body. Did two deaths make a person a serial killer? How many times could you hurt people and still be thought of as something redeemable? And as for breaking the law, Cass did that daily. There was a stolen wallet in her pocket right now, a stranger’s ID staring up from the folds.

Trying not to let her discomfort show lest she give too much away, she focused on the paper to avoid having to meet Gael’s eye. “But some people do,” she gathered, still looking down. “Some people deserve to be alone. Right? Criminals and serial killers, that’s what you’re saying?” ___________________ His expression softened a little more, if that was possible, and he inhaled deeply. “It depends.” Gael replied. “Specifically I said “people who choose to be serial killers” for the former and that criminals should be judged on a case-by-case basis.” He explained. “And even then, murderers usually have at least one person who will stick by them regardless of what they've done, either in solidarity or out of love.” He tapped on his chin with the pen. “That’s why it’s so tricky to take someone at their word when they say ‘you deserve to be alone’, whether that’s one other person, a clique or even yourself.” It was Gael’s turn to look down as he thought. “Sometimes people turn all those things inward and even though other people may not say them, they tell themselves that they deserve to be alone; judging themselves because of these immutable or mutable characteristics. “Sometimes someone routinely breaks the law out of necessity, whether it’s to feed themselves or a loved one. Sometimes a killer is coerced into killing or manipulated into participating. Do they deserve to be alone? I’m sure some people might think so but…” He fell silent. “I don’t know, that's not for me to determine.” He regarded her once more. “But I do know getting out of that self-loathing and isolation takes a lot of strength and I can’t think of anyone who’s been able to do it alone. That’s the ironic part, isn’t it?” ___________________

Didn’t everyone choose? Wasn’t that what she’d learned in her comic books and her movies? Everyone got a choice, and some people made the wrong one. Cass made the wrong one, time and time again. But she couldn’t bring herself to argue that she might not deserve the companionship she so craved. If Gael thought she was worthy, she could let herself believe it for a little while. She wasn’t a good liar, but she was great at believing untrue things that sounded pretty. That was what fiction was all about.

“So everyone deserves someone,” she surmised, hoping he wouldn’t reply that that wasn’t what he meant at all. If everyone deserved someone, then Cass did, too. If there were exceptions to the rules of killers and thieves being bad, then maybe Debbie’s rotting corpse in that pit or the stolen wallets in her cave didn’t say anything about her at all. It sounded so untrue, but she could cling to it anyways.

She offered Gael a small smile, nodding her head. “I think you’re really smart,” she told him, and the compliment was a genuine one. Not fishing for a thank you, not a desperate ploy to make herself more likable. She thought Gael was really smart, and she thought it for real. Leaning back in her seat, she nibbled on her pastry. “Do you want to talk about more volcanoes?”

#WR Writing #Writing: Magna-tudes of Deep Discussion #Writing With: Cass

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