chauvesourisnoire

[chauvesourisnoire]

Bruce Wayne Batman/Superman: World’s Finest #8

[chauvesourisnoire]

toshapeshift​:

Suddenly, as if it was as quick as a snap of her fingers, her attitude had diminished. Her face that was once scowling down at the people or scowling over in his direction had turned soft  ;  there was a slight smile that was threatening to curl in the corners of her mouth, but she tried her hardest to keep it at bay. After all, Mystique knew nothing was free, especially files, and if she was to accept this favor from him, she’d have to do a favor for him in the future. 

That’s why it took so long for her to respond initially  –   she was trying to find her words. Her body had turned back around to face him completely, the people becoming background noise that she no longer cared about. Her target could have easily slipped out, she’d get another chance with them. She felt like this was a once in a lifetime opportunity.  ❝ That would be useful to me, ❞  she spoke quietly.  ❝ We could take a look at it together. Could be gang related, these mutant killings. Wouldn’t surprise me. ❞ Still, no smile on red lips, but her eyes that were stuck on him were less aggressive than before.  ❝ I’ll get a list of names and we’ll regroup. ❞

The shift in her demeanor was apparent. Tension flowed out of her posture, and anger dissipated from her features. Privately, The Bat was relieved. These killings were growing in number, and the last thing either of them need is to make an enemy of the other. It would only detract from any progress that could be made. Also, her name carried a reputation he didn’t want to test personally.

The tense line of his shoulders relaxed minimally as he drew a step closer. Fingers delved into one of the pouches on his belt and withdrew a matte black card, a phone number printed in white. “Once you do that, text this number.” Gaze holds hers, a new seriousness carrying in his stare. “We’ll set up a rendezvous, and I’ll have the files on hand.”  

[chauvesourisnoire]

crimeloyalty·:

“ okay – you think you can walk?  if i help you? ”  she stands,  offering him a hand.  once she’s sure he isn’t choking,  she doesn’t acknowledge his struggle with the water – better leave him with a little of his dignity,  though harleen’s not certain he’s going to remember any of this in the morning. ( freshman.  freshman,  even though she’s almost certainly younger than him. ) 

“ you’re in luck – it’s not super far.  but you gotta tell me if you start feeling sick,  okay? ” the last thing they need is one of gotham’s shitty cops seeing them stumbling down the street and trying to intervene.  getting arrested the first week of school - yeah,  she’s pretty sure this kid would not enjoy that at all. “ okay – stand up on three.  one . . two . . three. ”

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs in response, showing that he understands. Even through the sludge of drunkenness, Bruce does. His body just doesn’t want to cooperate with the signals his brain is trying to send out to his limbs. The Solo cup is abandoned and he reaches for her hand, taking hold.  Feet shift uncertainly for a moment beneath him before Bruce feels it’s safe enough to stand. Even as he tries to straighten, he wobbles. His other hand catches on the stair railing behind him with much faster reflexes this time, and he whole heartedly laughs, long hair falling into his face. “Shit,” he ushers, still amused before he manages to stand entirely. An arm loosely falls around her shoulders for support. “That’ssss,” he slurts, “the hardest thing I’ve had t’do all day.” 

[chauvesourisnoire]

frstwomn​:

she can feel the hope fill the air for a second and it makes a small hint of a smile peek at her normally somber expression. although she wasn’t particularly able to help in the physical manner, she could inspire morale and help to lift the spirits of those affected by this disaster. she made a mental note to visit the hospital later, if only to visit those more critically injured. 

she might make a visit to see the man that did all this too. she hadn’t decided yet and she was certain there’d be an issue with that. 

“like I said, everything in my power is coming. it’s just gonna take time.” she shoves hands into her pockets, checking her watch briefly. “I have a meeting shortly with Bruce Wayne and then the new mayor of Gotham.” she had to admire Mayor Reál for stepping forward and taking charge when no one else would. 

“I appreciate everything you’ve done here.” she checks her watch again. “but I have to go to that meeting.” 

A solitary nod is given. The Batman has become Gotham’s protector. But unbeknownst to her and the other rescue workers and police that he passed by, he had another role to play. Eventually, he recedes from the worst of the wreckage, returns to his motorcycle, and speeds back to the tower. 

Cowl and cape are hastily exchanged for starched collars and trousers. Gauntlets give way to cuff links emblazoned with a W and a Cartier watch. The pieces of The Batman’s armor give way to Bruce Wayne reemerging into the world. 

Security is tight when he arrives at the courthouse, hair windswept from a hurried jog from his car. Handheld metal detectors hover over his limbs, held by members of Secret Service. His keys, wallet, and other belongings are returned in a small plastic bin for him to collect. 

Inside the meeting room, President Johnson and Mayor Reál are already speaking, becoming familiar. So, Bruce approaches slowly and give a polite air of distance until the president turns to address him. “Madame President,” he greets graciously. “It’s pleasure to meet you---though not under these circumstances.” 

[chauvesourisnoire]

[chauvesourisnoire]

smooches his forehead. and his cheeks. the tip of his noise. and, finally, a peck to the lips.

On deftly quiet feet, Colby creeps up behind him over plush oriental rugs and hardwood. Bruce is far too absorbed in what he's doing: going over budgeting for the relief efforts. Papers are spread out on the walnut coffee table in front of him as he hunches over them, still outside of the occasional sheet he puts down. Eyes are roving over lines of figures, and the overall projected cost when he hears a grunt and then two knees hitting the leather couch cushion beside him as she easily clears the top of the furniture piece.

Her hands are on either side of his by the time he turns toward her. An assault of affection is waged, lips pecking over the different points of his face. By the time she reaches his lips, Bruce has a hand on her waist, drawing her in closer. He returns the kiss with a firm insistence, a quiet sigh slipping out through his nose.

His eyes briefly flutter as she pulls away, obviously proud of herself. A smile cracks his features---a rare, fully formed one. "What was all of that about?" he asks quietly, a hint of teasing in his tone.

[chauvesourisnoire]

dereiserne​:

              “ – GREATEST INVENTOR, eh? Could you repeat that, and I’ll record it for the next time you roll your eyes at me?” A GRIN SPREADS, moments before it’s replaced by a laugh dropping from his lips, which still made his words dance when he finally raised his voice to speaks, glitter in his eyes. 

           “ – Do I look like I want kids? NO. I mean c’mon! Can you really imagine that?” Shaking his head, he reached for his own mug, just to find it already emptied. “ – I have nothing against kids. They’re the future after all, and I’m all about the future, but I’ve NEVER seen myself as a father-figure and Pepper doesn’t really see herself as a mother either, so we’re good.”

       At that prompt, Bruce does roll his eyes---even if only drives Tony’s point home. Fingers curl around his mug, raising it to his mouth to down the last dregs before moving back to the coffee maker to refresh it. Normally, he didn’t indulge so much with caffeine, but the previous night’s patrol had been more taxing than usual. 

      “So, a mentor,” he supplies as he taps in the slightest bit of sugar. After a taste, Bruce returns to his seat. “That makes far more sense.” A hint of smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Hard to imagine you with a mini-van and a soccer team’s worth of kids, doling out juice boxes and snacks.”  

[chauvesourisnoire]

TIME DEPARTS. SOMETHING'S LEFT WITH NO MEANS TO RETRIEVE IT.

[chauvesourisnoire]

oftomorrow​:

Clark floats a few inches off the ground, gradually lowering as Batman approaches. Probably less intimidating that way. “I hope you don’t mind me commandeering your signal here,” he begins as his feet touch down against the concrete. “I wasn’t sure the best way to reach you. We didn’t exactly trade phone numbers.”

He reaches over to switch off the light from the batsignal. Now that the man is here, no need to draw any more attention. “I’ll cut right to it – I need your help.”

“It’s fine,” he murmurs. With Superman’s help post the flood, The Bat can easily forgive the signal being used in this way. Just this once at least. His steps gradually come to a halt, slowing as he reaches the other. Truthfully, a keen curiosity far outweighs any ire.  

His head tilts incrementally with interest, lowering as well as the Kryptonian’s feet touch the ground. The signal shuts down, the blub filaments glowing a muted orange as the power begins to seep away. “My help?” he echoes, the low gravel of his tone even despite a privately unfolding surprise at this statement. 

“I’ll do what I can,” he goes on to say, not wanting the other to think this is a potential refusal. But he is silent for a moment, slate blue eyes studying the other. “But...in what way do you need my help?”

[chauvesourisnoire]

GUESS WHO’S BACK? Sort of anyway. I’m working on some drafts, attempting to establish a queue for the next couple days. This little break, I think, was good for me. Still feel a bit overwhelmed at the amount of drafts but I’m making some progress. Alternatively, I have been hanging out over here as well. It’s been nice writing a different muse. 

[chauvesourisnoire]

nightmdic·:

She doesn’t stand to watch him place his armor on, making herself busy with tidying up the room further before he presents her with an inquiry. A light hum escapes her as she counts the months in her head since she moved to Gotham and opened her clinic. “I’d say…maybe a few months, almost a year now.”

With the pieces of his armor rightfully placed, The Batman straightens to his full height. The pull of musculature causes a dull throb of pain to travel across his nerves from the injury, but he doesn’t show it in his features. “Gotham is lucky to have you,” he comments. “As am I.” 

[chauvesourisnoire]

firedblanks​:

i don’t know that i can do this.

bruce’s hair, sweaty and dark, forms a barrier between them. a defense. colby’s fingers twitch against the grip she still has on the now abandoned cloth. the urge to reach out and remove the obstacle bruce has created is strong. but she resists. she doesn’t want him to feel like a cornered animal. caged. she settles on words instead. 

“that’s okay,” she finds herself saying. her eyes follow the up and down of his chest as he breathes. shaky. “that’s okay if you don’t know if you can do this, bruce. sometimes i don’t know if i can either.” it’s a quiet confession. she doesn’t get to put him in a vulnerable spot without opening herself up in return. “but i’m learning. in the beginning, that night on the rooftop, you tried to tell me a similar thing, didn’t you? you knew i was more than anger, and i didn’t want to hear it. i didn’t want to believe you. so i lashed out.” she knows now, months and months later, just how right he had been. “i’m tired, bruce, of being so fucking furious at the world all the god damn time. i want more. i want you.” 

this confession, louder, dislodges something from her chest. her words wobble. her grip on the cloth tightens. rivulets of water leak from it and roll down her fingers. her wrist. 

“so it’s okay to not know. but we can want, can’t we?” she swallows something down. maybe its tears. maybe its bile. 

“my life is going to be dangerous with or without you, bruce. gotham made me just like it made you. i can’t escape that. i’m not running. but i’ll stay right here and fight like hell with you.”

Naturally, he expects disappointment to follow. Walls exist between Bruce and the outside world, outside entanglements. The years have been spent carefully avoiding them, but Colby has become a blind spot, someone that leaves him feeling defenseless as she encroaches further into his life. 

As his head bows and he tries to retreat, he braces for upset, for the waves of her emotions to crash and erode at his resolve. He expected levied anger, defensiveness, maybe even venom. However, quiet understanding is extended from the other side. He blinks a couple times as he processes this, and his head soon raises to look Colby in the eye again, watching her own wavering struggle with vulnerability. 

I want more. I want you.  It’s a declaration so plain that he can’t subvert it, talk himself out of feelings and situations that are clearly there. Dark brows fretfully knit together over stormy looking eyes. They haven’t lost their glass-like sheen, and his lips press into a thin line as he debates on what to say. The tightness in his chest hasn’t eased, so he forgoes words. There’s a screech of metal as the stool beneath him is shoved back a few inches as he gets abruptly to his feet. It soon tips, hitting the concrete floor with a hard bang. But he doesn’t pay it any attention.  Arms wind around Colby, pulling her into his chest in an embrace, in a rare first move. A hand moves to the back of her head, cradling it as he holds her. A breath hitches in his chest uneasily, and he lets it go on a slow exhale. “I want you, too,” he whispers, fearful to say it any louder. 

[chauvesourisnoire]

deciphertheriddler·:

This does annoy him - it can be seen in the way his jaw goes tense, but he looks away, trying to pretend it didn’t.

“Oh, so you’re done. Mhm. You can’t stop being who you are. You can’t stop being Batman. Don’t lie to me, I know you better than most.”

“If even God flooded earth to get rid of the bad people… And some still call that mercy. I gave my followers something to believe in.” He shakes his head, sighing. “And yet, you think yourself so superior to me… You did give me something to believe in. It’s not my fault you can’t actually see what happens in this city.”

His jaw clenches briefly with annoyance as his meaning is misinterpreted again. It almost seems to be a trademark of Riddler’s: to twist the Bat’s mission into something far more sinister than he ever intended it to be. 

“I’ve patrolled this city every night for two goddamn years.” While there is an edge to his words, he doesn’t raise his voice or lose his temper. But there is a residual tension in the air as he turns away, pacing to one end of the small holding room on the other side of the glass. “Don’t tell me what I know. I’ve watched this city eating itself.” His steps pause, and he casts a sidelong look at the other through the glass separating them. “And vengeance won’t save it. It’ll only make for a swifter downfall. I understand that now.” His gaze is searching, looking for something he’s sure he may never see. “But I don’t think you ever will.” 

[chauvesourisnoire]

Rage is not to be avoided, diminished, belittled. Rage is God. Better believe my rage is steeped in love.

Shira Erlichman, as quoted in Jacqui Germain’s When the Ghosts Come Ashore (via lifeinpoetry)

[chauvesourisnoire]

Sooo, I’ve been a little absent here---or at least, I try to be active as I can be. But lately, I’ve felt pretty overwhelmed with threads. That’s my own fault for having so many going at one time, and I have been consumed with str.anger th.ings brain rot.  With that, I’m just popping in to say that I may take a couple more days to let the overwhelming feeling dissipate further and work on getting my new rp blog off the ground. I’m not going anywhere and I’m not planning to drop any threads. I just think it’d be nice to take a short break from writing here and refocus. 

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🌺 Send this to ten blogs you think are wonderful. 🌺

This is super sweet. Thank you. You blog is also stupendously awesome.

[chauvesourisnoire]

babydxhl​:

She can’t help it – her head whips to look, breath catching in her throat like a quiet shriek that feels all too loud in the wide space. She turns back almost immediately, furious with herself for the tell, for giving up her line of sight. “And if you don’t plan to hurt me,” she calls, eyes searching the dark, searching for the lurking figure, “then why should I care what you do?”

That will do her in later, she knows, as soft moans fill the silence from the injured man. Her upper lip curls at the thought of the wheedling, the I-didn’t-mean-its, to solidify the dependence again. They always forgive. But she can’t do that from the back of a police car or a GCPD holding cell, and so she dismisses it for now.

Another quiet moan, and a copper smell in the air.

“What’s going on here isn’t anything to do with you.” She takes a step around, mirroring what she thinks might be a silhouette circling, scuffing the soles of her shoes on the cement. “Or me.” She shrugs – the gesture is exaggerated, almost theatrical. “Just business, really. Money out, guns in. Money in, guns— Wherever they end up.”

The Batman watches unmoving from the shadows. The crony that he’s injured clutches his bleeding hand, eyes darting around in anticipation of another blow.  His gaze moves back to Mary when she speaks again, her eyes trying to source his hiding place in the dark. For a brief moment, The Bat feels a private note of pity for her, how her life has somehow led into crime. He can see a small spark of her old character in her gestures, how she’d once enthralled tv audiences. The theatricality is still there, the talent is. But he can’t dwell on how it went wrong, only on how to stop this. These guns will only cause more misery. 

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he counters, his boot falls heavy and scuffing the concrete floor as he approaches. “It has everything to do with me. This is my city.” A menacing note enters his voice as he announces it, and this time, he doesn’t shy away from the light. 

The overhead fixture hits the cowl and his shoulders, casting a long shadow with elongated points of ears. Muzzles of guns swivel to him, but none open fire just yet. “I am its protector, and whatever part you have to play into bringing guns into Gotham---I’ll make sure you pay for it.”