#bruz3r

[madeleineisms]

( re-edit x. ) do they know i'm tattooed on your heart? feat. @bruz3r.

[apolytia]

Despite Steve's insistence that she rest and recover after a week of hunting her own vicious nature across the globe, the witch finds herself across the country and silhouetted by Selene's great work in minutes.

Doctor Poison's dossier was thorough. Collated from dozens of sources, eyewitness recountings, satellite imagery, and even first-person video gleaned through the eyes of high-tech animal masks. It - all of it - painted a map of this city; this urban jungle, and the hulking, shade-shrouded predator that called it his home.

But the map she'd followed, like all maps of this modern era, lacked a touch that modernity and skepticism had long ruled out as necessary.

Hic Sunt Vespertiliones. A marker denoting danger. Myths. Beasts beyond mortal ken lurking at the edges of 'civilization'.

Without such, she knew the search to find one man amongst the hordes of suffering and anguish would be daunting. Like chasing a shadow with a torch, she'd spiral ever deeper into this place until even the sky felt foreign.

And so, she took perch atop a skyscraper. Legs crossed beneath her, hands flat against her knees with her palms toward the sky. A moment of rest. A moment of consideration. An invocation of shadow and darkness to take her sight from her and replace it, instead, with truth.

He was among the concrete slabs and glass barriers tonight. She was certain. Charging. Rushing. Attacking. She need only divine a hint. A glimpse of shadow - Hued green, and flowing. Like oil against water? - to guide her to him. To guide her to The Batman.

LEGION OF DOOM #0.2 (2025) - Featuring @bruz3r !

[1defense]

she was no longer flesh, but merely bone and ash. her silenced heartbeat meant the world was now deficient. it held nothing for him. a unique ache, one born from a lost world and now lost love, engulfed him. blackened roots spread from where it burst in his chest and as the all-demanding hand of darkseid lands on his head, the battle is declared lost. clark is dead alongside his bride, and all that is kal, the alien, is now overcome. [ he is corrupted. ]

his eyes flash red, darker than her hair even before the flames, and he seeks to further the will of a new god come to earth. [ HE SEEKS THE BAT, WHO LIVES IN DENIAL WITH HIS HOPE. WITH HIS STUBBORN WILL TO STAND AND NOT BEND THE KNEE. ]

finally, @bruz3r appears.

finally, the devil surfaces. the old enemy turned friend turned resurrectionist. and like he planned, for kal knows he plans for everything, the alien responds in kind. to damn the bat like he damned her.

kal does not speak, for the only language he knows is that which is written in blood and is kin to death, as he reaches for the devil's throat.

[viteoublies]

CHAPTER INCOMING !!    plotted/private starter !!    for @bruz3r

the alley is thick with shadow, the kind that swallows detail and leaves only shape and breath. a single streetlamp flickers somewhere beyond the mouth of it, throwing weak light that does not quite reach where she stands. the man at her feet sleeps a sleep he was not ready for, forced into it by impact and inevitability. his breathing is shallow but steady, one leg bent at an angle that speaks of consequence.

ahmya lingers over him without urgency, platform pressed down against the broken limb as if pinning him in place even in unconsciousness. her head tilts slightly before she lifts her chin, nostrils flaring once.

she smells him before she sees him.

a familiar scent. leather, metal, something sharp and disciplined beneath it. it lingers across the underground in the territories she has recently begun to occupy. she does not need eyes for this, nor does she even need to turn around.

" bat. "

the word leaves her mouth slow and certain, accented and deliberate but muffled, due to the half oni mask that covers her lips. she does not turn immediately. instead, she shifts her weight and lifts her platform off the unconscious man’s leg with calm precision, letting it fall back to the pavement with a soft thud.

" i wonder when show up. "

now she turns her head slightly, not fully facing him, but enough to acknowledge the shape in the dark. her posture remains relaxed, hands at her sides, as if being cornered is simply another appointment she expected to keep.

[yoursdndispatcher]

@bruz3r -- liked the "locker room shower sex" starter call

The man must be two hundred pounds soaking wet. He also happens to be soaking wet, his short black hair lank in the stream of water... bright rivulets coursing down over sharp angles and steep planes of granite muscle. He's a fucking wall. A unit. Handsome in some angles, monstrous in others, and completely engrossing no matter what. Oh fuck, he's hard. He doesn't even know how it happened. There seems to be no connective tissue between the moment of looking, staring and gorging upon the gorgeous.... to touching, stroking and kissing.... A wet, hot press of bodies. a slow motion collision - with a desire almost equally as violent and inexorable.

[monenblogi]

@bruz3r - from dis

"... I gotta remember you guys are always a bag throw away for literally everything." Hardly even a flinch over the sound of something sticking in the roof, or even the footsteps for that matter. A telltale sign that this was clearly not the first time Dr. Abbot was in this situation.

He inhaled, though he wasn't moving to the other side of the safety rail. Not yet anyways. "Like I told the green one: it's not what it looks like. I'm just... thinking."

[idontkillorphans]

FOLLOW: for sender to stalk receiver, claiming they're doing it to protect them.

"What the fuck is all this?" Sleipnir held the document up for the other to see, thumbing through it with a shaking hand.

"Have you been...following me?" He didn't like that. His stomach dropped, hands twitching as he threw the folder across the table. "Why would you....why?" The questions failed to come. Just one word on repeat.

Why?

[justbrcathe]

Continued from here with @bruz3r

While Amazons preferred a more straightforward approach to combat, they were all perfectly capable of stealth.... but she was either rusty or her training was ill-matched for Batman's capabilities. The masked man continued to look at the large computer screen in front of him, but he knew she was there all the same. Diana heard it in the moment his fingers halted their tapping on the keys. She saw it in the subtle change of the set of his shoulders.

Oh, Batman knew she was there. He was just choosing not to acknowledge her. Diana did not let this non-reaction phase her. She casually ambled over to the computer and leaned against the desk right where her presence could not be avoided.

"You never called."

Diana thought about Paris and how Bruce Wayne had stepped in to 'rescue' her from a swarm of people asking questions when she attended an event. Had he honestly thought Diana would not figure out who he was? She may not be a detective, but neither was she a fool. The pair had worked in close proximity long enough for her to guess that the dashing Bruce was the same man as her brooding teammate.

The fact the Dark Knight appeared in Paris, just in time to help her, confirmed her suspicion. Even now her eyes traced his features. The shape of his jaw aligned with the memory of the man who held her before their dance was interrupted. Her imagination filled the rest of his face in as she knew it looked under the cowl.

"To reschedule our dance, of course. Don't think I will let you play coy this time.” They were alone in the cave instead of rubble post battle, and so Diana dared to say his name for the first time since making the connection between the two men. “Bruce.”