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@fatehaschosen-archive
“Heads, you live,” “Tails, you die.”
Indie Pre-New 52 Harvey Dent RP.
✗ 10+ years rp experience. ✗ Multiverse, Multiship, OC and Canon Friendly. ✗ Mun and Muse both 21+. ✗ Comicverse, primarily based around The Long Halloween and Eye of the Beholder, with limited Arkhamverse and Nolanverse influences. ✗ Para, multi-para, script. Partner-matching.
ＨＯＭＥ | ＡＳＫ | ＲＵＬＥＳ | ＡＢＯＵＴ
Independent Pre-New 52 Two-Face/Harvey Dent. Written by Jay. Tracking Tag: #fatehasechosen
So here’s a link to this blog’s reboot. I’ll fancy up a promo tomorrow, but if anyone wants to get in on fatehaschosen 2: Electric Boogaloo, you know where to go!
exuviiated replied to your post: I’m Back!
:D WE MISSED YOU
aintyourpuddin replied to your post: I’m Back!
piCKS YOU UP AND COVERS U IN KISSES TB H
T HE B A E S
I’m Back!
Man alive, I’m honestly shocked so many of you are still following this blog after, what, four months away? God damn. Thanks for keeping an eye out.
Good news! A lot of it, actually, so let’s start at the top: I’ve moved to another state, I’m living with a much greater degree of independence than I was, I have a fantastic job, and my relationship with my (if any of you recall, highly emotionally abusive) mother has improved magnificently now that there’s distance between us and she isn’t in charge of my life.
Basically, I’m finally in a headspace where I can psychologically handle writing such a profoundly mentally ill man again. I’ve missed Harvey like hell, and I’m really feeling his muse again.
So, first order of business - I’m going to archive this blog and start fresh on a new one, which I’ll post a promo to here once I have it set up. I’m going to reset Harvey as a character about...say, 80%. If any of Ye Olde Baes are still around, any development between our characters sticks, and if you want, we can figure out an IC-reason for Harvey dropping off the face of the earth for four months. But that aside, Harv’s a clean slate while I get back into his groove.
Stay tuned! I’ll have the new blog set up within the next few days!
Ａ ＴＨＯＵＳＡＮＤ ＡＲＭＩＥＳ
ｃｏｕｌｄｎ’ｔ ｋｅｅｐ ｍｅ ｏｕｔ
ɪ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ мσney ɪ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ cяown
ｓｅｅ ｉ’ｖｅ ｃｏｍｅ ｔｏ ｂｕｒｎ
ＹＯＵＲ ＫＩＮＧＤＯＭ ＤＯＷＮ
I’m afraid of moving on without you. Because if I do, then it really means you are no longer here. You’re not coming back.
You are gone.
Harvey moved, really moved, and Bruce felt relief blossom in him. Over the weeks he’d begun to lose hope that the man would ever return to any semblance of self awareness; and if so, what was Bruce to do? He couldn’t put aside his crusade forever. He’d made a promise to his parents’ graves, and he intended to keep it. Yet at the same time the idea of abandoning Harvey didn’t sit well with him. He was a man of solutions, and being at a loss for once irked him.
Yet the puppy had drawn something out of the man, something strong enough to make him move of his own volition, and even speak. After weeks of silence, that voice was like honey to Bruce’s ears. ”I’ll see to it,” he nodded. Getting the medication would be easy enough with his resources. The puppy was whining now, but it seemed pleased to be in such a warm embrace as Harvey provided. ”He’ll need a name,” he prompted, ”Vali, perhaps.” Seeing as the mythical Remus and Romulus were brothers raised by a wolf, it seemed fitting to give the pup the name of another mythical brother with a connection to wolves. The Vali of legend, as Bruce recalled, had always been the smaller and weaker of the two brothers; much as this pup was the runt of his litter.
"Vali." He ran his scarred thumb along the little dog's muzzle, a huff of something that might have been laughter accompanying Bruce's willingness to enable his obsession. It was a good enough name, and he already found himself considering getting up to get the puppy something to drink, maybe to eat if he seemed up to it - he couldn't be motivated to care for himself, but for something else, something small and helpless? That was apparently something he could do.
"...you stayed." It was impossible to tell if that was a question or a statement, but the way he looked up at Bruce was both cautious and inquisitive - the first time he'd looked him in the eyes and actually saw him in some time. Silence for a long moment, and then; "What day is it?" He knew it had been awhile, but exactly how long, he had no idea. He hadn't exactly been marking the days.
Christ.
Okay, so a little TMI into mun’s personal life - don’t read on if you’re not interested, and I’ll add appropriate tw tags.
Days had turned to weeks, and Harvey was barely any more cognizant than he had been in the wake of his mental breakdown. He ate, when Bruce put food in his hands. Slept, when Bruce tucked him in. Bathed, when Bruce took him to the tub. Otherwise he seemed to exist in a world all his own, ignorant of the reality around him.
Bruce spoke to him anyways. He told Harvey about training when they were young, how he’d wait until the other fell asleep before sneaking out of their dormitory and into the night to run laps upon laps, miles at a time. About hardening his body to the elements in Alaska. About learning to control his own mind in Nepal. About finding the strength in meditation in Japan. He told Harvey about returning to Gotham, and how on that first night, he had worn nothing but a little makeup to alter his appearance. How he tried to save a woman from he pimp, and she had stabbed him to protect the man abusing her. About wearing the cowl for the first time, and how he scared the woman he’d meant to rescue so badly, she drove a knife into her own chest.
He told Harvey everything he could think to tell, and were it not for the occasional grunts, he would have thought his stories had gone unheard. He’d never intentionally taken a break from patrol for this long, and it bothered him not to be out there. He didn’t trust that if he left Harvey for an hour or more, he’d come home and find him still alive. Patrol was out of the question, for as much as his crusade meant to him, Harvey’s current condition was the result of his own mistakes, and it was his responsibility to take care of him. Robin, Batgirl, and Oracle were all quite competent.
Bruce tended to Harvey. It was nearing Christmas Day, and Bruce was making the short walk back to Harvey’s apartment, a hood and face mask used both as disguise and to keep out the cold. A bag of groceries was tucked under each arm when he saw the box, a little crate with a ragged blanket and a handwritten sign.
"I’m back," he said as he entered the apartment, even though he knew he’d get no response. He set the groceries on the table, then hefted up the wooden crate and went to the bedroom, where he had left Harvey and where he knew the man would still be. Eyes open but unseeing.
He set the crate on the foot of the bed and reached inside. ”Someone left this out near the gas station.” He pulled from the box a small Rottweiler pup. Clearly the runt of the litter by its size, old enough to be weaned but still far to small. The fact that it clearly hadn’t been fed properly didn’t help, and it was shivering from the cold and missing one back leg from the calf down. Bruce set the whining pup on Harvey’s chest, where it burrowed into the warmth.
It wasn’t Rem and Rom, but Bruce till hadn’t figured out a good way to get Harvey’s beloved canines from Harley Quinn, and he knew the man had a soft spot for dogs in need.
"What do you think?"
It had been shock that kept him this way for the first few days, a vacant emptiness that made time blend into a formless soup and lose its meaning, but the silence in the aftershocks hadn't been indefinite. He'd started to notice things again, slowly - the smell of food when Bruce cooked it, the sound of the shower when Bruce ran it, the warmth of Bruce's hands when he slid into bed with him, voice rumbling in his chest as he spoke to him. Eventually, he started to be able to understand the words - he simply didn't have the motivation to react to any of those things. He felt...hollow, heavy, like he was moving through a thick, viscous fog, and he just...it was easier to be still, to let it happen.
What reason did he have to try anymore, anyway?
If left to his own devices, he'd have been more than content to just lay in bed and let his body fall into neglect, but Bruce consistently pushed food into his hands, ran a shower for him and herded him into it - even sat him down on the lid of the toilet and shaved the unscarred side of his face as the days went on and he started to grow unkempt, and he didn't resist, let himself be cared for. The man made sure he left his bed in the morning, moved him around the apartment at intervals the way you might a potted plant to make sure it got the right amount of sunlight, and he allowed it. The only thing that moved him at all for some time was when Bruce got in bed with him at night, held him until morning.
Because if he was here at night, that meant he wasn't out there, fighting his war.
He suspected a trick, but lacked the wherewithal to be angry about it. He listened to Bruce's stories, didn't miss a one for all that he never reacted outwardly to them, and again, he suspected lies, but...but the days turned into weeks, and he started to...to feel things again, new growth sprouting from under the ashes of his wrecked mind. And the longer Bruce stayed away from the cowl and the streets, the more what he was doing and saying began to seem genuine. What would he have to gain, doing this? Harvey was broken, could easily be dumped off in any psychiatric facility, never to be a threat again. What did he stand to gain, caring for him like this, telling him what sounded like secrets few, if anyone, had been told?
He couldn't. He wanted to-...he couldn't, couldn't want things again. Wanting things inevitably led to being let down, to being hurt, but over time he started to curl a little tighter into Bruce at night, offered a grunt or a huff when he spoke, looked up at him when the man's attention was elsewhere. The man who was here, who had scarcely left him for weeks.
The man who was slowly, painstakingly starting to earn back a fragment of his trust.
He'd been staring out the bedroom window at the snow for nearly an hour when he heard Bruce come in, and having a wet, shivering bundle of fur deposited on his chest was unexpected enough to draw a grunt from him, a series of blinks. He looked down at the puppy, at its runty size and threadbare appearance, it's missing leg, its doleful expression as it burrowed against him, seeking warmth. He looked, then slowly reached out to pull the sheet over them, to wrap the little thing up against him - the first substantial thing he'd done without prompting for weeks.
He stroked at the puppy's ears, down its neck, examined its deformity - congenital, or the result of an injury? Either way, it had been abandoned because of it. Not so different from him - deformed, unwanted.
Not unwanted anymore.
"The medication. I trashed it, that night." The first actual words he'd spoken since this mess began, and he started with a non-sequitur, his voice rough and scratchy from disuse. "Abilify. I need more."
I’ve lived too long with pain. I won’t know who I am without it.
Orson Scott Card, Ender’s Game (via larmoyante)
The Last of Us Sentence Meme
After all we’ve been through… Everything that I’ve done… It can’t be for nothing.
Am I ever getting boobs or what?
Bakers trade bread recipes on a knead-to-know basis.
By the looks of it, you could lose some of that food.
Do I need to remind you what is out there?
Everyone I have cared for has either died or left me.
How the hell would he even walk around with that thing?
I believe that everything happens for a reason.
I don’t ever want to see your goddamn face again.
I guess no matter how hard you try, you can’t escape your past.
I shot the hell out of that guy, huh?
I’ll cut to the chase: I need a car.
I’m just saying, I’m glad you’re on my side.
I’ve struggled a long time with surviving, but no matter what you have to find something to fight for.
It’s the normal people that scare me.
Maybe they all turned into fucking monkies.
Now get the fuck out of my town.
People are making apocalypse jokes like there’s no tomorrow.
Please, don’t go. I’ll be so miserable without you.
What did the mermaid wear to her math class?
Why didn’t you just hang back like I told you to?
You sacrifice the few to save the many.
You’re lucky you’re still drawing breath!
Forgive me— without you near, I become a monster.
(via ygdrasils)
Harvey Dent is either the guy trying to stop the riot or the guy leading the riot, depending on his opinion of the cause, and there's about zero inbetween.
The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion. - Albert Camus
What is this on your doorstep? Why, it's a present, of course! It's not very big, but inside you'll find a stack of vouchers for fancy restaurants and food carts, as well as a snazzy two-toned bow-tie. Says the card: Merry Christmas, babe! XOXO Harls ♥
You see that? That's a very happy crime boss. Four for you, Harley. You go, Harley.
