THE CHOIR;

winter's 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞

[gothamdeity]

private and independent writing blog for 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞 of dc comics. headcanon - based with influences taken from most iterations of the character. penned by winter, established 5.06.2022. themes are currently in development as i use this space to help me flesh out his character. heavily affiliated with @undefied

rules.

[gothamdeity]

hauntrcss​:

“poorly.” always poorly; but she had managed to keep the city standing in the absence of the bat  — responsibility given by him without her consensus. ‘ batman wants to leave you in charge ’. it echoes her ears even now.  regardless, there’s a sprouting feeling in her chest. a hope, perhaps, that she had not let him down. this time, at least. she nods at his unasked question, eyes following the crystalline of glass as it moves with his hand. she’s trying. she’s been trying, for longer than it’s been since he’d handed her the proverbial keys to the city. he’s made it no secret, his disdain toward her  — her methods of keeping the streets of gotham clean; but it would never be pristine. certainly not the way he runs things. she sits, back straight & rigid. she does not like being summoned: as if she were one of his servants, or one of his toy soldiers. still, it’s not often she’s an invited guest at wayne manor. no matter the reason. “ it’s still standing. ” whiskey shaded eyes lift from the bottle to study his, searching for a hint of something. anything. “think gordon prefers you over me. think that’s a masculinity thing, or does he share the same mindset as you when it comes to how I do things?”

there is no denying their differences: she edges towards extremes that he knows he cannot abide by (but difference of opinion have no shortage in this type of business... he knows when he can no longer press the matter, when things are better left behind, when the concrete refuses to be broken). there is still trust, on his part. he has extended his hand of welcome. their methods might be different, but their wants are the same-- perhaps that is the most important thing.   “you’re too harsh on yourself,”   he sighed. but her words do not seem to come with an air of self-pity. they are rich with grit.

he pours a glass for her, though she hasn’t said either way if she wants it or not.   “it’s never been a place that thrived. the fact it’s still standing is all we can ask for.”   his heart  &  soul, yet it comes down to merely this: survive. it is a primal need. there is no throbbing need left in the middle of the city, waiting to be carved out. this place has stopped calling to strangers. he places the glass in front of her, taking a quick sip from his own.   “i think he knows me a little better. he’ll get to know you. batman was not a favourite of his when i first appeared. i believe the word most commonly used was... nuisance.”

[gothamdeity]

bruce does not leave gotham... often. there have been times where need overtakes comfort, where his dear city must be abandoned: growing threats, commitments to the league, a certain owl who had been reaping vengeance. he has been gone for little over a month-- not a long time, all things considered, though it feels as if it might have been a lifetime. spending time with dick was not often good for him: bludhaven was doing well, though. better now they had worked together to isolate a few key players, to ensure that their sights were focused. the jails were already fuller. 

it is late, the type of night that cares more about being blue than being truthful. they’re in his library. he holds up a bottle of whiskey, a silent question, wondering if @hauntrcss wanted a drink. his brow is raised along with it. unmasked, he always feels naked around those who know his other life. but she is in his home. dressing up would be a bit much, isn’t it?   “i was wondering how gotham has behaved,”    he says, cautiously. he does not like when others know how much he loves this city: it has never been a requited love.

[notmorbid]

what big teeth, pt. 2.

dialogue prompts from what big teeth by rose szabo.

i don't think anyone's asked what you wanted in a long time.

you're so young to be so cynical.

i've always wanted a daughter like you.

i need a little time to be alone.

i've never been very good at making friends.

god lives in empty places.

you have such a good heart.

let's talk about more pleasant things.

you'll believe me? you promise?

i just wanted to see you. i like looking at you.

why do people have to have a purpose?

i'm fine. more than fine, because i'm with you.

i wish you wouldn't pretend to rescue me.

you're generous. i like that about you.

i'm not sure i want anyone to know where i am.

you can't trick me anymore.

please. i need you to help me.

you don't know, or you don't like to know?

you don't know anything about me.

you don't know what i've suffered. what i've lost.

it's strange to remember how much i loved ___.

maybe i only liked the feeling of being wanted.

i've been alone most of my life.

i'm ready to hurt for what i've done.

all i can do is remember.

i will try to love all the parts of you, even the parts i cannot see.

i know it the way i know everything: metaphors, invisible signs.

you have a face like a renaissance saint's.

who are you when you're not with me?

charity can be another kind of spite.

you don't know what alone is.

you're lucky to have been born into a family that loved you.

i've never wanted to tell anyone, until you.

you don't have to believe me. i'm going to show you.

i felt like you do, once.

no one you love is ever fully yours.

are you going to kill me now?

is it you? tell me something only you would know.

you still ask for so little. i wish you would ask for more.

nothing you could say is silly to me.

i'm here. i'm going to fix this.

why be alone when you could be with someone who loves you?

you do like feeling sorry for yourself.

love feels like carrying an egg in your mouth.

[qynzel]

continued from here⸻ @gothamdeity

i try, and fail, not to stare. it won't be the first time i've commented on his physique, though i mostly do it when he's wearing the suit, so i'll just raise an eyebrow, make a show out of looking him up and down. it's not real if it's a joke. it's not real if i'm making a show out of it. " are you just telling me that to make me feel better? because you pop up pretty frequently on all the 'celebsofgotham' insta pages i follow. "

i hop up, following him into the kitchen, though i keep my distance and make sure he can always see me. it's been months since i last tried to kill him, but i don't want him to think i'm getting any ideas. i want to be the kind of person he could trust, even if i don't want him to trust me. " i thought french onion soup took hours. "

my culinary education comes entirely from tiktok, so i probably shouldn't argue with him. " i have wigs. and masks. but i think it might be just as effective to go out like this. everybody's used to harley quinn in a costume. if i cover up my tattoos, i don't think even mr. j'd recognize me. "

[gothamdeity]

crimeloyalty​:

continued from here⸻ @gothamdeity

i try, and fail, not to stare. it won’t be the first time i’ve commented on his physique, though i mostly do it when he’s wearing the suit, so i’ll just raise an eyebrow, make a show out of looking him up and down. it’s not real if it’s a joke. it’s not real if i’m making a show out of it. “ are you just telling me that to make me feel better? because you pop up pretty frequently on all the ‘celebsofgotham’ insta pages i follow. ”

i hop up, following him into the kitchen, though i keep my distance and make sure he can always see me. it’s been months since i last tried to kill him, but i don’t want him to think i’m getting any ideas. i want to be the kind of person he could trust, even if i don’t want him to trust me. “ i thought french onion soup took hours. ”

my culinary education comes entirely from tiktok, so i probably shouldn’t argue with him. “ i have wigs. and masks. but i think it might be just as effective to go out like this. everybody’s used to harley quinn in a costume. if i cover up my tattoos, i don’t think even mr. j’d recognize me. ”

she stares at him. she eats him with her eyes. it is a very harley thing to do: to devour as a joke, to turn an advance into something she can smirk over. he knows she means nothing by it-- he finds it easier to simply ignore it (because what would come from addressing it? they already verged towards the unsalvageable, there was no reason to cross further lines).   “those who care for scientific advancements would know your name before mine. i just have more pull with the debutantes of gotham. it’s not as... illustrious as it might seem.”

she trails behind him. the kitchen is nice, compact. everything has an untouched quality to it still-- he has safe houses all over the city, though they’re rarely used. people would notice if bruce wayne went missing. people would notice if batman stopped protecting the city. these places were made to protect others. the counter tops are made of a steely grey, the cupboards an unblemished cream. he begins to take out pots  &  pans, checking that they had everything they could need.   “it takes perhaps one hour, at most.  &  it saves well.”   he turns to her, taking her in. the harlequin without her strings.   “you would still draw attention, for the obvious reasons.”

[gothamdeity]

crimeloyalty​:

continued from here⸻ @gothamdeity

“ yeah. ” i know better than to bring them up, the children he saves from this city, because it’s me and my kind that take them from him. i turn to look out the window, watch the city slip away ; i wish i could slip away, become some kind of motion blurred version of myself. it’s the only way i can imagine softening my edges.

my brain does this thing where it just whites out when i need it the most, and i’m grasping for anything i can change the subject to when he offers me an olive branch. dogs. i can talk about dogs.

“ i got one, ” i offer, pressing my hand against the window. it brings me no small amount of joy to imagine batman having to scrub my fingerprints from the glass. “ bruce. he’s actually a hyena, but i tell everyone he’s a german shepherd. j doesn’t like him very much. ”

bruce doesn’t like j very much – he nips at his ankles every time he gets near me. i’m a little worried i’m going to come home one day to find him dead. bruce, i mean.

“ so i can’t talk about cats or love – you’re not leaving me a lot of options, batsy. ”

a brow raised at the mention of the name. after him, then? would it be conceited to think so? there are other bruces in harley’s life, most likely, be them famous or personal friends-- but he thinks that perhaps he is closer to her than most. that is certainly conceited: they both have walls. brick by brick, they protect themselves in any way they know how. they are only as close as they allow the other to be, which has always been at a friendly distance.   “you have a pet hyena? that doesn’t sound particularly safe.”

but harley had never been someone he associated with safety. something else-- thrill, certainly. worry, nearly always. but she was always someone who edged towards danger, who touched the fire before it could touch her,  &  he knew that he was too close to the joker to appear as comfort to her. but there were little moments like this, weren’t they?   “bruce is a rather rare name,”   he said, with hesitance ripe in his mouth. his eyes lift-- he spares a glance, watching harley in profile. there is something about her that always seems to shine, a glow that cannot be wiped away.   “we could talk about food. the stock market.”

[gothamdeity]

@lightnlasso: how was i supposed to know that ?

bruce attempts to play nice... sometimes, that is harder than it might seem. he is one scowl away from a face burdened by his own anger, so instead he smooths his feature into apathy. he takes the book from her: his fingers touch against the spine, watching it slip back into place. there is a curved knife kept inside. he picks it up from the floor, touching it to his desk. his office is a cold place-- he does not understand how to make the manor look welcoming (his mother and father had, once upon a time, when fairytales did not taste like sawdust in his mouth).   “i did not expect you to be rooting through my things,”   he says, trying to edge the pointed clip from his voice.   “if i had known, maybe i could have give you some advice on what you can and cannot touch.”  

[gothamdeity]

@firefated​ said: embrace.

her head, a crown of red, falls against his shoulder. she is warmer than a new bruise: his hand lifts to curl around her shoulders, bearing the weight of her. the night has been a cold one, which accounts for the fire being lit, the curtains drawn. his living room does not often see company-- he dislikes inviting people into his space. it is always an invasion. he has had the word introvert leveled at him before, but he’s not sure that’s true... he can smile as well as anyone at a gala. he even enjoys it, sometimes. but his manor was his manor, sacred as a rotten tooth.   “are you feeling cold?”   could she feel cold? it is impolite to assume anything. a glance around reveals a blanket, little more than a stone’s throw away.

[gothamdeity]

@vigilantaes said: embrace.

bruce does not tense when cassandra’s arms are thrown around him. while he might offer a manufactured coldness to those outside of the family, there is a care he takes with those he holds close: it is not perfect. it is not always kind, but it exists nonetheless-- slowly, as if treating a cautious animals, he lifts his arms to wrap around her shoulders. one squeeze. having reached the limits of his affection, he pulled away to observe her face. was she hurt? hungry? a hand reaches out to press against her forehead, checking her temperature. that, too,  seems normal... none of his robins had ever been particularly affectionate. they were birds with broken wings, dropped into an empty nest-- when they sought comfort, it was often out of a long buried agony. he is not used to the casualness of it all.   “what did you do?”

[qynzel]

@gothamdeity

he slips his phone from his pocket and dials the nearest grocery store. he makes an effort to learn these things: gotham is a fingerprint against his navel, pressing down upon the adam’s apple until choking becomes easier than breathing (sometimes, memory is natural,  &  sometimes it is a serum rubbed across scars).   “i could make the time,”   he decides. he has very little of it, very little to spare,  &  yet he is here, isn’t he? he has made time before. he will do it again.   “you’re always welcome to leave. i don’t want you to feel like a prisoner... this is a home, not a cell.”   someone picks up on the other side of the phone, a smiling voice. he places a finger over his lips to quieten harley, as if such a tactic has ever worked before. quickly, he rattles off foods, pausing to see if harley wants to add anything.

" i think you'll get just as much attention as me, " i point out ; he is bruce wayne, and that makes him one of the only people in this city more notorious than me. or whatever the boring, billionaire word for notorious is. i probably knew it, once. i stay curled up in my blanket until he hangs up, shaking my head when he asks if i want anything. i don't, and no amount of cautioning is going to get me to give up delivery. he says something about not being a prisoner, but i can't answer -- i don't want to remind him that i deserve to be.

i'm glad for the space between him and me for a lot of reasons, but mostly because he shushed me and i let him. it's a familiarity i don't want to have. at least in the cowl, there was an anonymity that shielded both of us. i have a real bad habit of falling for anyone that's a little bit nice to me, then ruining them if they don't ruin me first. i used to be a psychiatrist -- i'm used to looking for patterns, and this is mine. i won't repeat it with bruce -- i can't afford to lose him or the bat, so i stab every single butterfly in my stomach and i remind myself that i am allowed to have friends, i can allow myself to have friends.

" what're you teaching me to cook? "

that's fine, right? that's normal? jesus fuck, since when did i start caring about being normal again?

[gothamdeity]

crimeloyalty​:

“ i think you’ll get just as much attention as me, ” i point out ; he is bruce wayne, and that makes him one of the only people in this city more notorious than me. or whatever the boring, billionaire word for notorious is. i probably knew it, once. i stay curled up in my blanket until he hangs up, shaking my head when he asks if i want anything. i don’t, and no amount of cautioning is going to get me to give up delivery. he says something about not being a prisoner, but i can’t answer – i don’t want to remind him that i deserve to be.

i’m glad for the space between him and me for a lot of reasons, but mostly because he shushed me and i let him. it’s a familiarity i don’t want to have. at least in the cowl, there was an anonymity that shielded both of us. i have a real bad habit of falling for anyone that’s a little bit nice to me, then ruining them if they don’t ruin me first. i used to be a psychiatrist – i’m used to looking for patterns, and this is mine. i won’t repeat it with bruce – i can’t afford to lose him or the bat, so i stab every single butterfly in my stomach and i remind myself that i am allowed to have friends, i can allow myself to have friends.

“ what’re you teaching me to cook? ”

that’s fine, right? that’s normal? jesus fuck, since when did i start caring about being normal again?

bruce shrugs off his suit jacket. there is a nice place for it over the side of the couch, so he throws it there: he must be comfortable if he plans to cook, especially since he’s sure there’s no aprons here-- it does not seem as if harley would have bought some. his tie is laid over the jacket before he makes quick work of rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.   “i manage to pass relatively unnoticed. only a few people in gotham actually care about billionaires.”   of course, if they went anywhere for dinner, he might be stopped once or twice...   he had been advised by one or two colleagues about the necessity of a bodyguard. but he has always responded to those kind words with an absent smile, as if he was telling himself a funny story. eventually, people stopped trying to give him advice. 

“french onion soup and gougères-- food that sounds fancy but is otherwise rather easy to make. you can make it in batches, too, so you won’t have to prepare food every day.”   he knows very little about taking care of himself: alfred had always been there. for as long as he could remember, the other man hung around him, a constant weight of reassurance. but he could make himself some food-- and he could clean up after himself. comfort might be in his blood, but laziness never had been (despite a few years of debauchery stating otherwise).   “you could wear a wig. if you want to leave without being noticed. or a mask. i’ve heard they’re quite useful for masking an identity.”

[gothamdeity]

@crimeloyalty​

“ you are such a dad sometimes, ”  harley shakes her head,  but she’s smiling,  no hand lifted to her lips in an attempt to hide it.  “ no wonder all the little birds flock to you. ”  it’s strange – she feels she shares so much with him,  but knows so little about who he is.  she wouldn’t change that : the more she knows,  the easier it will be to hurt him when she falls back in line with joker. “ fine.  no more cats.  i’ve always been more of a dog person,  anyways. ”

gotham slides by outside her window,  and she watches it curiously ; how can something so terrible be so beautiful,  when you’re cocooned from its cold,  kept safe by its protector?  she knows that this city is eating her alive,  but in this moment,  she can’t imagine existing anywhere else.  “ i don’t know if i believe you.  you just told me i’m not allowed to talk about cats,  and i don’t need to be a psychiatrist to understand where that’s coming from. besides, my heart’s been broken for the last five years,  at least,  sooooo … it’s kind of a sham prerequisite,  anyways.  ” 

he catches sight of her through the rearview mirror. he has learned to keep his eyes on her: trust only extends so far. he is cautious with it, teasing it gently between the edges of his fingertips, giving only enough to ensure that it won’t snap back and eat him alive (she is all mouth-- he knows how easily she might devour him). he merely hopes that her bites do not land too deeply... she seems to stay light in her teasing, though he still searches for an undertone.  “those little birds always seem to fly away eventually.”   he tries to keep his tone light, but there is a frown over his words. each robin eventually leaves the nest, be that by flying or falling. one day, he must stop picking eggshells from the ground and wondering why his boot cracked against the fine edges-- hatchlings were not his business.   “i could imagine you with a dog,”   bruce said.   “a big one.”   scruffy and feral, something rescued from the streets. they have the same penchant for strays, though it manifested slightly differently between them.   “let’s consider love something we don’t talk about. a taboo. clearly, neither of us are very good at it.”

[gothamdeity]

@crimeloyalty​

“ you’re a busy man.  you have an empire to run … and a city to save.  are you telling me you have time to pick up my groceries? ”  she smiles back,  smaller than the manic clown grin she’s so used to putting on,  but far more genuine.  things are easy with him in a way they’ve never been easy with anybody.  she,  too,  won’t think about why. “ i’ve been meaning to – talk to you about that.  i can’t stay locked in here forever.  do we have a plan?  because i’m starting to go a little crazy. ”

quinzel wrinkles her nose at wayne,  pulling a blanket around her shoulders.  it’s not cold – she just needs something to do with her hands.  “ i don’t make phone calls.  i mean,  who the fuck am i gonna call for joker?  the fucking mob?  an arms dealer?  it doesn’t – work like that.  and i don’t have a personal life, so … ”

he slips his phone from his pocket and dials the nearest grocery store. he makes an effort to learn these things: gotham is a fingerprint against his navel, pressing down upon the adam’s apple until choking becomes easier than breathing (sometimes, memory is natural,  &  sometimes it is a serum rubbed across scars).   “i could make the time,”   he decides. he has very little of it, very little to spare,  &  yet he is here, isn’t he? he has made time before. he will do it again.   “you’re always welcome to leave. i don’t want you to feel like a prisoner... this is a home, not a cell.”   someone picks up on the other side of the phone, a smiling voice. he places a finger over his lips to quieten harley, as if such a tactic has ever worked before. quickly, he rattles off foods, pausing to see if harley wants to add anything.

[gothamdeity]

failrobin​:

@gothamdeity​​​ ASKED :  ❝ despite it all…i can tell you have a good heart. ❞ 

      “ DESPITE IT ALL. and what the hell’s that supposed to mean, bruce? ” he’s not quite tense yet, head turned to stare back at the bat, but there’s an edge to jason’s tone that’s all challenge. a good heart. sure. he’s always done what he knew to be right. despite what, exactly? 

      “ despite what i’ve done? ” everything he’s done, in his bid to rid the world of one less dirtbag, time and time again. what he’s done, trying to get answers — and know if he ever meant a thing to the man standing in front of him. 

      “ tell me. ” 

he has mistepped. that is usual around jason: his pause is long  &  thoughtful, as if quiteness will let him escape the situation (jason holds grudges like pomegranate seeds, each one bunched against his palm,  &  bruce knows no steady patience will help him here). there is a demand in the other’s tone. it is met with a head tilt, a raised brow.   “despite what you’ve done,”   bruce concedes. the words are a fight in themselves, despite coming here with the best intentions. despite wanting to share in a compliment. despite, despite, despite.   “you’ve always known how i’ve felt about it. i’ve made no secret of it.”

[gothamdeity]

techdek​:

“   no way   !   if anything they taught me valuable lessons   ,   like   —   ”   pondering expression   ,   wracking their brain for something substantial.   they had never been into literature   ,   at least not in the sense of being a fiend for reading the classics   ;   but stories with a choose your own adventure aspect had always easily grabbed their attention growing up.   an empty house tends to make kids gravitate towards those kinds of stories it seems.   “   never trust abandoned theme parks   ?   ”   shoulders raise as if weighing the validity of such a clause before their head nods in approval.   in a city like gotham   ,   such a warning would probably come into play every day.   even if tim rarely runs away from obvious sigils of trouble   ,   if anything   ,   they’d always been one to run towards such.

“   —   have you ever even tried a frozen pop tart before   ?   I know seems kind of blasphemous considering their whole purpose   ,   but it’s revolutionary.   way better than half the hors d'oeuvre I’ve had the unfortunate mistake of eating.   ”   disgust contorts features for a second before they’re swiveling on their heel.   “   seriously   ?   ”   shock blooms till a faint gleam within their eye   ;   subtle but present   ,   borne from the hesitancy they tend to grapple with when always avoidant to overshare about their interests unless asked   —   but even then the nagging voice within them tends to diminish such a spark.  

“   uh   ,   sure   ,   yeah   —   well   ,   it’s like two ramps just intersecting in a bowl-like shape without the sides.   vert ramps tend to get used for like the big name events for the pros   &   those are just huge   ,   the ones at the skatepark are usually like half the size of that   —   like 8 feet high   &   12 feet wide   ,   but there are even smaller ones that are only like 2 feet high.   height usually just equates out to their difficulty   &   what kind of tricks you’ll then be able to perform on them.   ”

tim does not seem to heed that advice, but the young ex - robin had never been capable of taking much advice to the heart, it seems. he has ran towards danger with all the dignity that childhood will allow (it has never been much). he has seem tim drake wander into enough abandoned places: crumbling buildings reduced to places to skate, disgusting dives twisted into villain’s lairs,  &  enough urban exploring to hurt anyone’s head. he worries about all his past sidekicks, but tim still bears the brunt of his stone - faced considerations.   “i’ve taught you better lessons than that,” bruce decides. never trust an abandoned warehouse... without first checking to see where the exits are. never trust an abandoned warehouse... without understanding who your opponent is. never trust an abandoned warehouse... until you have to.

his advice is practical, if not always kindly. sometimes it is better to edge away from kindness: a certain amount of distance is healthy. his nose wrinkles at the mention of the other’s latest food disasters-- for someone who has grown up on two equally rich palettes, he certainly takes well to living like a college student.   “i’ll have alfred send you over some recipes. i didn’t know you were struggling so much at coming up with ideas.”   dry in the way he liked his wine, every noise dragging over his tongue with slow contentment, he spoke. he begins to lay out the chess pieces between them: one after the other, ordered with the sort of ease that came only with mechanical continuance. a knight wobbles  &  he rights it with a finger.

by the time he is finished laying everything out, tim has started to ramble about skateboarding. bruce tilts his head upwards, waiting for it to finish with a quiet patience (he does not award many people that: his time is precious  &  he knows better than to waste it).   “i see,”   bruce comments when a dip falls between the two of them.   “this sounds like a very dangerous hobby, tim. i really wish you’d take to poetry.”

[ohisms]

↪     𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑩𝑰𝑫 ᶜᵘʳᶤᵒˢᶤᵗʸ .    (  a  collection  of  various unsorted question prompts .  adjust  phrasing  as  necessary .   will  be  updated  frequently .  )

are you kidding me ?

[ name ] ,  what just happened ?

hey !  what’d you do that for ?

did you plan on ever telling me ?

do you want to tell me the truth ,  this time ?

you seriously think i could’ve done this ?

did you know about this ?

[ name ] ,  what were you thinking ?!

can we talk ?  alone ?

why are you doing all of this ?

it can’t be that bad ,  right ?

haven’t you heard the stories ?

who did this to you ?

what are you insinuating ?

what did you think was gonna happen ?!

you think i could do something like that ?

who do you think you are ?

why won’t you let me help you ?

do you have any evidence of that ?

can we put away our differences for a second ?

where have you been ? 

is that  …  blood ?

what’s your problem ?

are you real ?

where’s your sense of adventure ?

would you kill for me ?

you’re  [ name ] ,  aren’t you ?

why can’t you just let it go ?

do you want me to stay ?

what if we left  …  ran away ?

what else was i supposed to do ?

how did you get this scar ?

could you give me a hand with this ?

do you ever stop talking ?

you’ve never done this before ,  have you ?

where do you think you’re going ?

how many fingers am i holding up ?

what can i say to make it better ?

why can’t we all just get along ?

can i stay the night ?

what’s that supposed to mean ?

where did your common sense go ?

you seriously don’t believe me ?

what aren’t you telling me ?

do you have a minute ?

why are you lying ?

you’re gonna walk away from this ?

where am i supposed to go ?

can we stop and think about this rationally ?

how long has it been since you’ve slept ?

why can’t we be civil about this ?

what makes you so special ?

where is all of this coming from ?

how are we gonna get out of here ?

you’ll never leave me ,  right ?

were you in on this ?

care to join me for a bit ?

shows what you know ,  doesn’t it ?

do you want to get out of here ?

what were you expecting to happen ?

what are you working on ?

i can tell you’re upset ,  what happened ?

when can i see you again ?

where do we go from here ?

can you sit up for me ?

how long have you been awake ?

what are you getting out of this ?

can we put this behind us ?

where are you ?  nobody’s heard from you .

how can i make this go away ?

were you following me ?

where does it hurt ?  show me .

[ name ] ,  what the hell ?

hey  …  can i ask you something ?

you’re not gonna tell me where we’re going ?

really ?  you’re gonna do that right here ?

are you even listening to me ?

we can help each other ,  right ?

hey  …  did you hear that ?

you have no idea who i am ,  do you ?

how long have you known ?

what exactly are you asking me to do ?

how was i supposed to know that ?

are you new around here ?

can you stop and listen to me for a second ?

do you think there’s something wrong with me ?

what ,  you think i’m not qualified ?

why did you help me ?

can you just look at me ,  please ?

what can i do to convince you ?

where did we go wrong ?

oh my god ,  are you bleeding ?

why the long face ?

are you trying to get yourself killed ?

what do you make of this ?

how much do you wanna bet ?

you’re sure this will work ?

why are you so concerned about me ?

what are you trying to prove ?

did you ever care about me ?

are you drunk ?

isn’t this amazing ?

how long have you been standing there ?

what are you suggesting ?

[gothamdeity]

crimeloyalty​:

“ i know a kitty who can get you some, ”  harley offers,  coming to a stop in front of the batmobile.  she tugs at the handle impatiently until he unlocks it,  then slides too easily into the front seat.  she’s done this,  a time or two.  she shouldn’t sit in the front – it’s too obvious an indicator of the peace she and the bat share,  but there are only so many pretenses that she can keep up at once,  and her fondness for him is too exhausting to hide. 

“ you know, ”  she says,  twisting in the seat so she can look directly at him. “ i used to think i had bad luck in love,  but then i met you. at least i stopped after mr. j. ”  bold of her to state that she’s stopped,  but she’s not thinking too hard about her word choices,  now that they’re alone. “ if you ever need a red wine rom com buddy – you know where to find me.  i have a great breakup playlist. ”

he waits a beat or two as she wrestles with his handle: then he opens it while she dashes herself backwards, for bruce might be devoid of many things, but humor still lives with him   (in brief flashes  &  terribly soft moments, like the scar of stars against a blackened sky).   ‘‘how kind of you,’’   he said, blandly. he slips into the driver’s seat, the familiar warmth of the wheel purring beneath his hands.   ‘‘but i believe i’ve had enough cat puns for one lifetime.’’

bruce does not let himself find hope in her words, despite the urge to. stopped. implying that she is never going to tangle with the joker again... he knows her well enough to know that it won’t be the truth, just as he knows her well enough to know it won’t be her fault. despite it, hope is still a harsh light to dim. it burns his hands when he tries.   “my love life hasn’t been so bad.”   a distinct lie-- either to himself or to her.   “there has just been a few rocky acquaintances.”   an understatement, if ever there was one.   “we can watch movies together. we do not need to be heartbroken for that.”

[gothamdeity]

hey. dont cry. one million bruce wayne comics on the planet, ok?