galorail:
Selina Kyle aka CATWOMAN. Exceptional martial artist; gymnastic ability; combat skill & stealth; master thief; clever.
Jules of Nature
Keni
Misplaced Lens Cap

⁂
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Sade Olutola
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
RMH
Three Goblin Art
Show & Tell

Andulka
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
todays bird
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
will byers stan first human second
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
seen from United States

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seen from Malaysia

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seen from United Kingdom
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@brazencostumes
galorail:
Selina Kyle aka CATWOMAN. Exceptional martial artist; gymnastic ability; combat skill & stealth; master thief; clever.
“You care for her, maybe… even love her. Your mysterious opponent know this and will use that against you. Is she worth it?” “…Yes.”
“I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people rising from this abyss. I see the lives for which I lay down my life, peaceful, useful, prosperous and happy. I see that I hold a sanctuary in their hearts, and in the hearts of their descendants, generations hence. It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known.”
“My doors are open to you, regardless.”
"Open or not, I know how to pick locks."
“I called, because I wanted to see if you would come —and here you are. Mission successful.”
"What're you twelve and a half? Don't expect to see me around here again."
“You are in my office. What other business could you have?”
"Only due to your invitation. What do you want from me, anyway? You pay people to condescend, so I'm assuming didn't call me over for that. But anything's possible with you, isn't it?"
“And I’m proud to announce that it gets bigger every day. The city, I mean. We’re rebuilding parts of Old Gotham. It’s a new project in light of the new tax season.”
"As does your ego. What, am I supposed to suddenly care about what you and your cronies do with your millions?"
“A little wordy for someone who has a tight lip. I’d almost say you missed me.”
"Oh, please. Don't flatter yourself. Clearly your ego is still as large as the city."
“We all have appearances to keep up. —Don’t we?”
"No. As usual, you're the only one with a facade to uphold. But, I'm sure you're quite used to pretending to be someone you're not by now. Practice does make perfect after all."
“Miss Kyle. What a pleasant surprise.”
"Pleasant? Right. You can ditch the act, Wayne. You're probably just about as thrilled to see me I am to be back."
We are Fine || Bruce & Selina
After this was all over, it would be time to put his cape and cowl to bed for good. There would be another, after him, and already, there were some out there that fought for their own motivations, to keep their own demons away from eating up their souls. Despite the armor and the bravado, Bruce was a hollow man fueled by rage and the need for vengeance. He was haunted by agony and delirium, tied up in foolish hopes that one day he would win his crusade and there would be a sun on his horizon, rather than endless darkness wherever he went. Soon, it would be time to rest. The city wouldn’t need him anymore.
He plunged into the cold waters of Gotham’s bay, having ejected himself from The Bat just as it reached deeper Atlantic waters and stopped skirting the coastlines. He was a good two hundred feet under, safe from the brunt of the blast radius and with an automatic rebreather. The compression of the suit and cowl kept the water from popping things out of place, but the bomb’s blast reached him anyway. The pressure of the shockwaves threw him into a rock formation and his head was thrown back, cracking the cowl.
With ears ringing, Bruce ran on autopilot, disengaging the locks and pulling the exterior suit off. Now that the bomb had blown, the harbor would be riddled with nuclear pollution. The city would either do nothing about it or focus their efforts and budget in cleaning their waters and not rebuilding the city itself. In shock, the man watched the various pieces of the batsuit sink as a muscled arm wrapped around his chest and started tugging him away from the site, moving toward land. They never broke the surface until they had swum to the China Docks that dotted the western side of Downtown Gotham.
The area was vacated completely, small boats floating in their slips without a care. The water lapped at the rocky shoreline. Soon the blast would bring in rougher waves. The diver hefted Bruce onto a pier and the weary man lay there, staring at the cloudy sky. As the haze of panic and shock receded he knew needed to get away for awhile, recuperate and find a new strength, one that wasn’t based in hatred and regret. He was burnt out. This city had almost killed him and he didn’t doubt that her pull on him was strong enough to bring him back to her. The diver sat himself beside Bruce, wiping the water from his face and slicking back his hair with one large palm. Without him, Bruce would be very dead, atomized maybe.
His companion stood, seemingly aware of Bruce’s newfound determination to move. He offered a hand to the billionaire to help him stand. Denying assistance, Bruce got up on his own, mimicking the other’s move of smoothing out his hair. Appearance meant nothing to him now, but there would be nothing gained from having water drip into his eyes.
Before his avid rescuer could open his mouth to say anything, Bruce placed a hand on the other’s elbow, said a quick “Shut up, Clark,” and marched onwards. He did not want to hear anything the reporter had to say today. Bruce would relent to getting an earful later, when his world wasn’t as lost. He might even say thank you, out loud. For now, just that was enough.
As he walked the broken, narrow streets to find a subway entrance, Bruce tried to figure out what he wanted to do. He knew he wanted to get away, but this time, he did not want to go alone. He needed someone to bring life into his despondency and darkness. Alone, he would brood and become that angry, wretched monster of vengeance and revenge again. There had to be more to himself.
"I still think there’s more to you," he’d said to her. Remembering that, Bruce knew then and there, sitting on a nearly-empty subway train, that he wanted Selina with him. She was the metaphorical defibrillator to his unfeeling heart. He felt things when he was with her. There was no one else quite like her, no one else suitable enough, or brave enough to withstand him for an extended period.
Seven stops later and he was in the Narrows. A short walk later and he was standing in front of what Bruce knew to be Selina’s last known permanent location. After slipping his way inside her building, he crept up the stairs to her door, finding it to be wide open already. Selina was inside, then. She wasn’t gone. Something warm blossomed in his chest when he thought about her and their shared history together, even if she had betrayed him to Bane. He’d meant it when he said that he had been only let down. He’d expected more from her, but time and time again, she always reminded him that she was only a thief, that she was a bad person.
Bruce had to believe that she was more than that, despite what she thought of herself. He stood in the doorway, watching Selina move about the room. He was dripping all over the scuffed up wood flooring. In nothing but his black skinsuit, he was certainly a sight. She was still in her Catwoman gear, though the top portion had been undone, hanging around her waist. Eventually, her hassled movements stopped and she plopped herself down into a torn up armchair that had several coats draped over it.
Was she in shock as well? She seemed distressed. She should be happy. She was safe, bar any radiation poisoning that might have affected the city and its population. She had her new start with the Clean Slate program. He could say anything to break the silence. He could announce is presence with soft-spoken words meant for soothing away worries and fears. Bruce wasn’t the comforting type though, but then again, Selina wasn’t the emotive type either. This day had been distressing enough for the world to turn upside down for a little while. He could also strut in with bravado and ask her to run away with him, pull her out of Gotham life for awhile. He was no fool. Gotham wouldn’t let the both of them stay away for long. She would likely laugh in his face. She’d done so before.
Bruce relied on old fallback methods. Facts and short statements worked best. Of all things to say, surely there were better words but nothing else felt suitable.
"You haven’t left yet."
Selina could not manage recall an instance where she had felt more exhausted. Mentally, physically, emotionally. A hiss left her lips as she lowered herself onto Holly’s favorite armchair, not bothering to dump the coats that had been draped over it onto the floor. Everything that she had ever known had been raped, defiled, and destroyed in the tragedy of one single day. Ideally, Selina would have loved to declare her hatred for the city that had left her for dead time and time again, but the void she felt in her heart did not allow her to do so. Gotham had served many roles in her life, becoming her best friend and her most vile enemy. It was the threshold of her youth, the only place that reminded her that once upon a time she had been normal. All of it was gone now, hidden under ash and debris, molested by Talia’s intense lust for destruction. Most of all, he was gone and something inside her told her that she’d never be okay with even the thought of that.
Holly was nowhere to be found, and in the moment Selina couldn’t bring herself to genuinely care. She’d turn up eventually, like she always did. Right now, the only thought possessing her mind was the hauntingly clear image of the only person who made her feel safe blow himself into smithereens. The replayed image stained her mind, bright red fireworks signifying the safety of the greater good and the termination of her someone who’d actually meant something to her. He was her favorite part of Gotham, and now he would never know. The amount of guilt she felt was nauseating. Selina had been the one to turn her back on him, she betrayed him and presented him to Bane in trade her her own safety. Maybe, if she hadn’t done so he would have found a reason not to blow himself up. Maybe, they would have been happy. Self loathing hs always enjoyed an unrequited love with Selina, and it snaked his arms around her tired form as she sunk further into the armchair.
His familiar voice shattered her thoughts, and she quickly decided that she was so exhausted that she was hallucinating things. She promptly let out a bitter unladylike snort, her eyes still fixed on the creases of leather in her tight fitting pants. Great, not only was she broken but now, she was also delusional. A desirable combination, clearly. Even still it was nice to hear the warmth in his tone, and relive how it used to ease the pattering of her heart. She preferred insanity over silence, and she wasn’t sure what that said about her.
The movement of a shadow was what it took to tear her from her trance like state, and Selina glanced up at the doorway with furrowed brows, trying to rack her brain for where she had hid her weapons. Looters, rapists, and murders were still on the loose, and Holly had been stupid enough to leave the door unlocked. Bomb or not, locking the door was the smart thing to do especially in Old Town. Just because Selina was the best thief in town, did not render her the only thief. However, any frustration she felt towards Holly melted away, for the vision that met her gaze was not the mangy looter she had been expecting. It was Bruce. There he was, in all his glory, sopping wet wearing the same look of fatigue as she was.
Broken. God, he was so fucking broken. A different sort of broken, one she had not seen on him before. Sure, bruises and cuts were peppered across his body, a mix of blood and salt water dripped onto her rotting wooden floor, but this break in him went far past his physical state. It was glazed in his eyes, it was laced in every tired breath that left his lips, she could hear it in his voice. The Bat had divorced his city even though his love for her was boundless. Selina would wonder later, when he was fast asleep with his lazy breaths tickling the skin of her neck, whether this annulment meant that he had chosen her instead, and set his boy-scout-esque behavior aside to be with her as some form of self rebellion. At the time, all she could muster was a blank stare.
“I couldn’t go.” Selina choked out in a hoarse voice after several moments of silence had gone by. Not without you.
The sorry sight of Bruce triggered something deep within her that had been hibernating for many years, hiding inside her as she sported her fearless facade. Her lips parted, and there was a hot burning behind her eyes. She couldn’t remember crying past the age of eight or nine. Gotham had hardened her to the point where nothing much phased her, anything horrid was expected and when the occasional blessing wheedled it’s way into her life it was a pleasant surprise and certainly not an expectation. Desperately, Selina attempted to swallow the lump forming right in the middle of her throat but was unsuccessful and she felt like the same little orphan girl who used to camp out in quiet allies in the richer parts of town and sob at the sight of girls her age with loving, living parents and sparkly barrettes.
Tentatively, Selina rose from the chair, hands bunched into fists at her sides. She wanted to touch him, to make sure he was still there to remind her that there was good in the world. She didn’t care if he was wheezy and weak, as long as he was truly before her. Taking a small step towards him, her heart rapped against her ribcage trying her hardest to suffocate the idea of his presence as a cruel illusion, a ghost of what should have been. And then, merely inches away and the distinct scent of sea water and blood greeted her nose. Swallowing harshly as the tears now threatened to leak from the corners of her eyes, Selina placed a hand on his chest. He was soaked, and shaking, and cold, but there he was, as tangible as he’d always been. That was enough to sending her drowning in a pool of sentiments, of feelings that she was sure she didn’t even have names for. Wordlessly Selina wrapped her arms around his middle, and laid her cheek flat against his chest. Her eyes were clenched shut and she focused intently on the consoling rhythm of his heartbeat, tears now splayed across her cheeks.
“I hate you,” she whispered in shaky breath, her fingers lightly gripping the fabric of the front of his suit. “You should have told me,” she breathed, not even bothering to make her voice sound firm. She didn’t have the willpower to do much of anything, save for marvel in the notion that Bruce was very much alive encased her arms. Suddenly things weren’t as grim as they had been five minutes ago.
Hi there Selina. I've been trying to get ahold of you for a while now... I must admit, the extent of your caller ID is impressive. Please, just let me talk to you one time. If we don't see eye to eye, I'll leave you alone. I promise. Harley says hi.
Gotta keep the creeps outta my hair somehow, Pam. I'll meet you whenever you're free. Bring Harleen with you.
She was desperate and she was choosey at the same time and, in a way, beautiful, but she didn’t have quite enough going for her to become what she imagined herself to be.
Charles Bukowski, Factotum (via larmoyante)
The Killers - Sam’s Town