batfall-a - Tumblr blog

[batfall-a]

bye ♡ - cya guys on the new blog

[batfall-a]

HE had been watching the other work - a gaze so intent that it would have seen INTRUSIVE. there's the way glasses slip down nose , and the fingers that rub thoughtfully at bridge. he wonders if the other picks as nails and bites them in a nervous manner while in deep thought.

this particular puzzle was the work of an arkham - pieces of alan wayne's journal that were scattered all over gotham. bruce now has 6 of the 12. the coding on this one had required the pull of surveillance. staring at the sea of faces it leaves one quite overwhelmed.

' i think they've been after me - us the entire time , shifting almost ... ' his voice faltering as an almost bewildered tone accents words , ' they've figured out how to outsmart me ' the tone of defeat obvious though , he feels SAFE to admit this. he is , after all so young in training. the work that was required had also been eaten up by the aftermath of gotham - a building of company that had his mother's namesake.

bruce all but nods as the other mentions arthur , a painful piece but ? he cannot and does not quite know how to unravel that particular tie. ' hmm yes - i haven't ate in some time ' before leaving he stares at the computer screen. palms facedown upon tabletop , and shoulders haunch ever so, ' it doesn't get better does it ? ' the words honest , and small in stance. ' i'm asking so i know what i need to be prepared for ... loneliness is unavoidable but ? what am i missing ... i've spent so much time in the shadows '

@batfall: i'm not a bit surprised.

bruce works thin - frame glasses down his nose. the pair lands upside down to the desktop with a mild thunk of thought as fingers take their place, rubbing thoughtfully at the bridge. ❝ no. ❞ he knows what it sounds like, stark agreement with none other than yourself, but – ❝ neither am i. ❞

arms cross, each sleeve rolled to the elbow some time ago in contemplation. they've been at this for the better part of an hour now, searching. configuring. compiling. quantifying, only to do it all again. double - check, triple - check their own work. together, they are mirror halves, both complimentary and yet inverse, peering up at one of the many widespread faces of the cave's computer. so similar, and yet, completely unlike the other. it's curious; it's fascinating, but they both know it is one more puzzle to be solved.

the elder of the two quirks a brow, peering to the younger, and still, somehow alien, duplicate of himself. there are similarities, physically, but they so often begin, and end at the eyes. i'd know those eyes anywhere, master bruce, alfred had remarked the day previous. it was a trait difficult to deny: heavy is the head. ❝  alfred's prepared dinner. ❞ he nods, not punctuating, and far from instructing, but they're both well aware: ❝  you know how he'll get. ❞

[batfall-a]

* be on tonight !!! its been crazy busy with family + being social 😵‍💫. hopefully everyone is enjoying the weekend! sending love and just a reminder to self care 🤍

[batfall-a]

✨ felt cute , did the sun a favor and started off the long weekend right

[batfall-a]

𝒊'𝒎 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒂𝒄𝒕 ... 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔. 𝒊 𝒂𝒎 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒆 ... 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈 , 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 ...   )                                      |    INDEPENDENT +   HEADCANON    BASED    BRUCE WAYNE   from    THE   BATMAN   ( 2022 )    |    some  lore  lifted  from    from JOKER  |    written   by    selena    25+  ( she,  her )   dark   themes   present.                  . . .  the  struggle  of  everything  +  nothing  all  at  once.  𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 : 𝐒𝐄𝟕𝐄𝐍     

[batfall-a]

C. from here ! / @magizat

TIME in gotham is something that is unforgiving , and never quite heals one in the way one would like. the streets congested as umbrellas opened , and the smell of rain was constant. looking out window bruce's brow creases as he finds that getting lost within the crowd is something that is appealing to him more and more to him. the lounge dimly lit as there were those who moved within the space and sparked conversation that was laced with sharp tongues. each keen to find a moment of weakness from the other and POUNCE!

shoulders haunch as elbows are leaned upon bar and he asks for another club soda. he stays in that stance for a few moments more ; continuing to watch the rain fall as the crowds became more determined with each step.

club soda placed down by bartender as long fingers go to reach for the glass , and as he goes to remove himself from bar he feels a collide. head turns first as body follows , and as he turns he is stunned no - dumbfounded by who he sees. eyes widen as that grey gaze is still filled with an tangible sadness , and mouth drops ever so. his efforts to control his expression temporary hindered. it takes him a moment to compose himself. mouth closing as he blinks through his surprise.

i don't know what to say , time itself feels suspended as i just stare. she's from another life , another time , and now ? now i feel as if i'm being haunted by a past that feels dreamlike - these memories clouded by a loss that i would never get over. breathe , i remind myself , breathe. doing exactly that as i inhale , and allow my eyes to soften and my tongue to wet my lower lip. that glass in my hand so badly needed as i clear my throat. i manage a ❛ What, not happy to see me? ❜. it comes out clumsily , and boyish in nature. at her words i then allow a smile , and that smile is inviting in nature. it has to be.

' long ? ' the words said with an exhale of a slight laugh , ' i think i'm shocked ... you back here ? ' emphasizing the 'here' as fingers then go to rake through honeyed hair that has a tinge of brown , ' i don't know why but i just thought you'd never come back to gotham '

[batfall-a]

just transferred here last week ... the words hang , and bruce wonders just why GOTHAM wants him here. make no mistake those who entered the city were not here by accident. lenses' do a quick sweep of the area , and it turns out his credentials match up to the name he's given.

there's yellow tape that has the wording : CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS , and for a moment he's brought back to another scene. a scene in which he sits in the back of an ambulance as he sees a sheet drop upon his father and mother. the shock consumes as the young boy nods a 'yes' when asked if he can follow the nice policeman.

tonight is no different , the scene meticulously chosen , and the victims ? well , they're the true players in this scene. this killing like so many others meant to convey a message. gotham city painted in grays as rain was imminent and the sound of thunder was not far off.

' i thought gordon would be here ... ' bruce slowly says , the scene of the crime had been close to FOXARK offices - convenient enough that bruce being there wouldn't have been out of place. there wasn't enough time for a change ...

casual i remind myself , coincidence that you stumbled into the crime. it helps that i spy at least ten other employees. lucius standing off to the side as he gives me a look. i then go to look at the detective and shake head assuring that nothing deeper lingers. of course i had been allowed to go beyond yellow taped lines , perhaps there were those who hoped for a breakdown , a triggering of my PTSD. i am never anything more than an object ; that object being of headlines of the very people of gotham. in my mind i've accepted this , and i've learnt to use those things to my advantage.

' just concerned ... like we all should be ' words heavy yet bruce is careful to avoid a tone that borders on exhaustion. ' my offices are just across ' he points to FOXARK tech , ' if you need anything surveillance wise ... happy to help GCPD '

ㅤI FIND HIS PRESENCE ... ODD. not that i'm ill accustomed to people swarming around a crime scene , like pestilent flies eager to scope out their next meal , but because he looks so nonchalant about it. so unbothered , dark eyes scanning the immediate area with veiled interest. new as i am to the city , i'm vaguely aware of who he is. gotham's disgraced heir.

ㅤi'd instructed the officers to sanction off the area , get tape hung and cover the body ( which to me looks less like a killing and more like an execution ) but he's snuck right past without so much as a word. a quick once - over leaves me with more questions than answers , like the slight bulk beneath his shirt that tapers off just before his waistline — a bulletproof vest , if i'm not mistaken , and i'm almost certain i'm not.

ㅤhis question catches me off guard , wrenches me from my thoughts , and i extend one arm to offer my hand in greeting. ❛ i don't think so. detective cale wickham. everyone just calls me wick. ❜ i can't help but study his face in the meantime , get a good look at his almost haggard features. his eyes seem familiar — not because i've seen them before , but because they remind me of mine , wrought with a deep , distinct emptiness anyone else might miss and a clear disconnect from his surroundings , the way you fumble for a light switch in the dark and can't quite reach it.

ㅤ❛ just transferred here last week. ❜ out of genuine curiosity , i turn to the body ( what's left of it , anyway ) and gesture towards it with a quick jerk of my head. ❛ you look like you've got some thoughts about all this. ❜

@batfall / ❛ i’m sorry, have we met? ❜

[batfall-a]

THEFIXER   (  a  woman  on  fire .  )   *          a  fandomless  original  character  with  original  lore -   written  and  loved  by  jessie .   established  in  2013 ,   minor’s  do  not  interact .      

[batfall-a]

SUNLIGHT pours , accenting fields as he looks upwards , and closes eyes. the warmth of the sun flooding cheeks as he smiles ; in this moment he is content. you can hear the sounds of hard work from the nearby lands. fields of grass that are begging to be harvested , cattle whose tails swat at flies.

he is called from the temporary reverie he finds within the suns rays as one hand feels the top of hayfields brush against palm. eyes open as head falls and he feels her hand move against forearm , and as she drops her findings into palm he closes it.

' is it not what we live for ? ' bruce allows a smile to blossom upon lips , ' obligation , loyalty , and at times ... love ' a gentle tease to words as he then opens palm and looks at what she had dropped , ' i love my brother ... though we have never met - my father made sure of that ' a turn in tone as hurt and anger mix - sepulchral , ' i think there are others who would rather have me banished ' from palm he plucks a berry from her gatherings. ' i don't think we've known stability , the world we grow up in begs for that but ? ' a small laugh falls as he shrugs shoulders , the wind picking up. ' it would be nice to improve the world wouldn't it ? '

his grey eyes have a sort of sorrowful nature to them as he looks upon eliza , ' though i will say that there is something to be said for the world exactly how it is now '

a  long-spun  hatred  of  circumstance  nestled  in  eliza's  bones  a  long  time  ago;  inferiority  by  sole  existence.  a  woman  in  a  world  that  wants  nothing  more  than  what  she  can  offer  to  her  counterparts  -  eliza's  purpose  was  instilled  to  her  at  a  young  age  ...  especially  to  a  rule  that  could  conceive  no  son.  (her  life  was  a  loveless  one  -  even  now,  freedom  feels  falsified  -  like  she  is  in  the  wrong  for  fleeing  a  path  that  caused  her  nothing  but  harm.)

if  her  fate  lies  in  the  hands  of  one  man  ...  this  one  is  hardly  unfavorable.  he  is  gentle,  kind,  and  noble  in  the  truest  sense  -  that  of  his  heart.

eliza  returns  to  bruce  from  the  tall  grasses  of  a  bountiful  field,  berries,  herbs  and  nuts  held  in  a  satchel  at  her  side  -  she  garners  his  attention  by  placing  a  hand  on  his  forearm,  dropping  a  handful  of  her  findings  into  his  palm.  she  says  nothing  for  a  moment;  only  after  another  beat  of  birdsong  does  she  murmur,  "you  must  really  love  your  brother  -  to  go  to  all  this  trouble."  deeper  thought  brings  a  crease  to  her  brow,  "or  ...  your  people.  you  have  to  care  for  them,  too."          /          @batfall.  🤍

[batfall-a]

A GOD — A REAL GOD — IS A VERB. an  independent  and  highly  selective  portrayal  of  CDR. JANE SHEPARD of Bioware’s Mass Effect. written  by  MONK ( they / she , 27+ ) since 2014.  

[batfall-a]

is anyone’s mobile app acting up??? 🥴

[batfall-a]

[batfall-a]

lack of interaction ≠ lack of interest. sometimes, life gets in the way, or my muse doesn't cooperate with me the way i want, or i'm simply too anxious to take the first step. but just because we currently don't have any interactions going, doesn't mean that i'm not interested in writing with you and your muse(s). maybe the perfect opportunity hasn't presented itself yet, or i couldn't think of a good enough plot but that never ever has anything to do with you. after all, we're mutuals for a reason and that's usually because i enjoy seeing you on my dash and would love to write with you ― whenever that may happen.

[batfall-a]

IT'S terribly indulgent , her calloused fingertips traveling against the back of hand. his gaze so fixated upon her full lips as his eyes become a lighter blue - there's the faint hint of something else that begs , a remembrance of their time spent in bed. tangled limbs as he reached for her under an ocean of sheets. his eyes widen , and he licks lips remembering her taste upon his lips.

' no - no , ... i'm encouraging terrible ideas ' the 'no' so quick to leave lips that tongue had practically stumbled over words. his heartbeat quickens , and he then allows them to be swallowed up by shadows that swathe them in a haze of dark lighting. the music carries on , and so he leans in - his mouth grazing the shell of her ear.

' i'll take hours ... ' words effortlessly fall , a hand going to rest against her hip as other hand goes to cradle her jawline , and lips press a kiss against her cheek once more before he looks into her eyes. the two of them so pressed against a wall , and so still that they'd look like one of the pieces housed on this particular floor.

' your first met ? ' he allows a smile to blossom upon lips , and he looks the happiest he's been in years. that bruise accenting cheekbones once more , ' mine too ' a low laugh shared between the two of them before he then goes to address a previous comment. ' so you -have- thought about what our first date would be like ' a tease threads wording before he then goes to reach for her hand , her hip will sorely be missed. ' i knew you had ' fingers thread through her own, ' better than late night meet-ups and take-out? '

you're lucky the lights are so dim: or else everyone could see the heat rise to your cheeks in the kind of blush you swear you've never felt before. there's one other thing you find yourself grateful for... everyone surrounding you is so enveloped in their own world, chattering & spilling stories of their own success, so distracted hardly anyone ( so you hope ) sees the two shadows in the corner talking within inches. even in public, it seems that the two of you are drawn into the darkness, letting it mask you even fully dolled up for what some would call the most important day of may.

" let them think what they want, they won't remember tomorrow. " a corner of your lip raises, too afraid to blink or even turn away... you almost miss @batfall's question: do you want me to stop...

" no... " your voice is quick, a quiet whisper slightly muffled by the sound of music, no doubt made by some guest in attendance. his hand pulls back from your figure & you nearly spit out a protest, but instead you let the air grow tenser between you both, gaze looking out to the lit tables & bodies crowded around the bar. " it's my first met, you think i'd miss it? " playful words spill as brown eyes flick back to his outline, gaze so in tune with every curve of his face, every sharp line of well steamed suit.

a moment of silence, a moment too long, before you fold your lips into a full smile followed by the quietest of laughs. " you know what's stupid, this feels like a weird... fucked up first date, except only we know about it. " right hand reaches out, gently brushing the tips of your fingers ( scarred, vaguely coarse from the snap of bow string back & forth, again & again ) against the back of his hand. " i couldn't hide from you if i wanted to, it'd be rude. "

don't step away, your eyes whisper as you take a step closer, allowing the quick pass of your hand on his to turn into a longer, lingering moment. " this is probably a terrible, terrible idea... but we can have one minute, can't we? "

[batfall-a]

Margaret Atwood, from “He shifts from east to west”, Power Politics

[batfall-a]

EVENTS like this brought out the elite ; those who told themselves that they were somehow saving gotham. saving gotham , seems odd doesn't it ? the city encloses around them. the balcony of museum met with neon colors as a haze decorated air. this haze was a mix of fog and humidity that came off the bay , and the breeze that rolled from the oceanfront stank of decay.

' i'm here ... though i think half of the people came so they could pat themselves on the back. make themselves believe that gotham is changing ' lenses worn as they record and scan the surrounding area.

her name not lost within the scanning , and the faint outline of an owl resting upon a nearby skyscraper is detected. though he's unflinching with response. ' what are -you- doing here ... gotham's history museum has nothing on yours ' the museum taking on a life of it's own as margaret pye was made curator.

' these events never end well ' exhaustion gently treads as he gives half a smile. currently their faces being illuminated blue as a toothpaste commercial plays in the background. gotham does the thinking for you it appears.

interesting how she preys on insecurities , enhances panic , and without hesitation breathes destruction. if she ever loved her people one wouldn't know it. instead she dangles dreams and hopes as she rips them away. only the select few have been fighting , the battle never ending as the scars are made evident.

for a moment i think about backtracking on that statement it is as vague as it is negative. it does no one good to dwell in the this city's insidious nature - though ? nor does shutting out the TRUTH. i allow my eyes to avert upwards as i go to lean upon railing. elbows touching upon steel as i watch the toothpaste commercial play out. then looking directly at her i speak once more.

' how dangerous is this slab of stone ? ... nothing that gets dragged out of that river is ever good '

it was night of celebration. a new piece was added into the gotham museum of human history. carved stone art was discovered in a riverbed of the gotham river by a local jogger. every archeologist and donator that lived on the east coast was in attendance for the new exhibit. not to marvel at the find. but, mainly to keep appearances. alex's case was mandatory, as she was representing the smithsonian. her instructions were to smile, wave and observe artifacts that drew crowds in. attending events like these was unfortunately part of the job.

upon the grand balcony of the museum, stood the raven haired woman. watching the exhibition goers move around and socialize as if they were ants on the floor below her. glass of champagne in her hand, she had done a good job avoiding small talk with people. until a familiar face stepped into vision.

"we have to stop meeting like this." - @batfall

he was a sight for sore eyes. bruce wayne was one of the few rich people here who actually appreciated the exhibits.

"you're right, let's just not hold these things anymore." she jested, before turning to him. "do my eyes deceive me or is bruce wayne actually attending a social event?"

it's been a year since she had last seen the billionaire at an event such as this. unlike the year prior, she was dressed formally. alex sported a long black gown and silver earrings that she had borrowed from her mother. last year, the doctor got an entire lecture from the public relations team on how you wear dresses to events like these and not pants. she listened to their critiques, even going as far as to styling her hair in neat waves and wearing heels.

feeling out of place socially and fashionably; alexandria was comforted from the familiarity of the artifacts and gotham's favorite orphan. "how have you been?"

[batfall-a]

okay ! so got some things done but ... i'll be working from on drafts from oldest to newest so , that should enable me to get done and stay on track. i'll be around tomorrow as well . just have a b2b meeting and then a 1:1 that always gets moved lmao. anyways thank you guys for being SO patient it means the world.