#crssfre

[loneheirs]

m. 027. the refreshing waters of a lake, away from prying eyes . / @crssfre

moonlight pours , wind slightly stirs as ripples are made evident upon an otherwise still-like lake. it's quiet here , out in the pine barrens as arms sag upon bent knees and they sit on the nearby bank. bruce stares out upon the water , cowl discarded as black rimmed eyes are smeared with fingertips and sweat.

' sometimes i come here just to forget pieces ' his voice soft , ' ... not that it works ' there's a tinge of levity to words - exhaustion skirts. their bodies bear the brunt of a fight evenly matched yet ? knuckles swell and their ribs ache with the kind of marks made by another's steel tipped boots.

' the water helps ... it's ice cold ' the pain almost blinding as he bites back tears and he goes to look over at her , ' i would've been worse off if you didn't show ... so she's [sofia] amassed a small army ' a sigh follows , and eyes close tightly be the effort of such a movement.

the war had begun , i distracted - my head turned by the court who seemed to grow in power each day. there were ties , clues that with her help i had slowly put together. an understanding that we could never infiltrate - we're at a stalemate. an interesting place to be , vulnerable yet ? i can't seem to shake the feeling that this all has a purpose.

' what would you have done differently ? ' his elbows falling from knees as legs stretch out , and head rests against thick grass , starring up at the sky. ' curious ' - his eyes search the sky as if he'll find an answer in written above him , ' sometimes i'll dream that i'm someone else ' that causes the right corner of lips to lift ever so slightly , ' temporary though ... ' looking up at her as his eyes fall over her form , ' it's dangerous to dream '

[batfall-a]

SECOND floor of library silent as hushed voices are raised , the lightening darkens ever so as clouds pass overhead. A STORM. they're in the center of it all. he doesn't look at her , instead his gaze is fixated on a leather bound book. it's meant to be in the ARCHIVES yet ? it's sitting out in plain sight.

you seriously think i could’ve done this ? / @crssfre

' i don't know what you're capable of anymore ' the words bitter , as if he had ingested something rotten. maybe it's the lack of sleep ? the frustration that comes from the KNOWLEDGE that they both know yet their INABILITY to do anything about it. ' you realize how painful this all is ? ' still avoiding gaze as he reaches for the book , and pulls it down. reading title as he opens the first couple of pages. ' we both said we'd stop meeting . . . i did what you asked ' exhaustion threads wording as something else lingers upon tone. ' i didn't realize . . . ' words trail off and will never be fully formulated.

his eyes at last leaving pages to look into hers , and he's reminded of just why he had avoided. those eyes see far too much , always have , and while it was comforting they now sit in no man's land as they agreed upon one thing. their feelings couldn't be broached , their hearts closed as they pushed whatever room they had taken up within one another's life.

it's painful , akin to the soles of one's feet walking upon glass shards. i can feel the way my heart , yes my miserable beating heart awakens for few precious moments within her presence. always having to pull myself back , to temper whatever awakes. i wonder if this heartache will ever heal.

' do these encounters make it easier jules ? ' grey eyes soften , words fluctuate with the presence of something more , ' what do you want from me ? ' book tucked under arm as his frame moves closer , and she peers up at him. so close that he can smell a hint of her perfume and shampoo , it burns his lungs as he inhales .

[batfall-moved]

                           𝚃𝙷𝙴   𝚝𝚠𝚘   𝚘𝚏   𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖   𝚊  𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚍  𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜  ,    𝚊𝚝  𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝   𝚑𝚎   𝚑𝚊𝚍  𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚜   𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑   𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝   𝚖𝚘𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜   𝚝𝚘   𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚝   𝚑𝚊𝚍    𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗    𝙴𝙽𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷.   𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝    𝚑𝚒𝚜   𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚛   𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚖   𝚑𝚊𝚍   𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍   𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝   𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝   𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢   CIRCUMSTANCE   𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝   𝚑𝚎   𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍   𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢   WEATHER.   what  he  didn’t  expect   was   the   bomb   that   went   off    in   the   HEART  of   gotham.   it   had   rendered   him   helpless   as    PTSD   was  triggered  ,  and  he   quite   simply   hadn’t   acted   QUICKLY  enough.    he’s   broken  ,   and   he   tries   to   get   the   images    of   broken   limbs   and   screaming   civilians   out   of   head.   TEARS   threaten   as   his  bandaged   body   sits   on  the  edge  of   guest   bedroom  (   frequented  by   juliette  ).    their   souls   a   little   worse   for  the  wear   as    GOTHAM    screams   in   victory.   can    juliette  hear   the   cities   RUMBLINGS   ,  the   way   she   mocks   them   both    ?   STUPID   NAIVE   MORTALS   YOU   THOUGHT   YOU   COULD   OUTWIT  ME?          THE  AUDACITY.   

                          he   worries   that  he’s  going  insane.   his  head  turns  to  look  at   her   frame  , currently   sitting  UPRIGHT  ,  the   evidence  of   the   event  is   written   all   over   her   limbs   as   well.   𝚑𝚎   𝚑𝚊𝚍   𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍   𝚑𝚎𝚛   𝚝𝚘   𝙷𝙴𝙻𝙿   ,                            𝙵𝚄𝙲𝙺   !    𝚑𝚎   𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝   𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴   𝚙𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐   𝚑𝚎𝚛   𝚒𝚗  𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛  ,   𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗  𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑   𝚑𝚎  𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜   𝚜𝚑𝚎  𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍’𝚟𝚎  𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎   𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜.   𝚑𝚎  𝚑𝚊𝚜  𝚝𝚘   𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔   𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢   ,    those   wounds   that   are  mapped   out   upon   her   body   are   felt   by   his   very   soul.    ‘  i   don’t    know  what  happened  . . .  we   were   there  in   the  thick  of  it   and  ?   something   ,   i   just  -  ’   words   that  are  formulated   are   strung   together  by  GRIEF  ,   and   his   past  that   he  still   hasn’t   HELAED   from.   you   can   see    how   the   trauma   clings   to  his   very   being  ,   shadows   LEAN   from  lamps  as  they  so  DESPERATELY   want   to   shroud   him  from  the   outside   world.  

 [   𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎, 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎? -   @crssfre​  ]  

                      she   doesn’t   offer   a  response  ,   trauma  understands   trauma.   upon   hearing  those  words   his  head   turns  slightly  ,  and  he  offers   a   NOD.  𝚃𝙰𝙻𝙻   𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚎   𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜   𝚊𝚜  𝚑𝚎  𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚜  𝚊𝚗𝚍   𝚜𝚑𝚎  𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚜   𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗  𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗  𝚝𝚑𝚎  𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜.   𝙶𝚁𝙴𝚈   𝚂𝚆𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙿𝙰𝙽𝚃𝚂   𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕   𝚘𝚗   𝚊𝚜   𝚑𝚎   𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗   𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜  𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛   𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚜   𝚊𝚗𝚍   𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢  𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎   𝚘𝚗𝚎   𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛.   𝙴𝚈𝙴𝚂   𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔  𝚊𝚝  𝚘𝚗𝚎   𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛’𝚜  𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝   𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐.   𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢   𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙳  𝚘𝚗𝚎  𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛  𝚒𝚗  𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜   𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝.   bruce   then   goes  to   reach  out   and  fix   a  bandage  that   is   not  quite   attached   correctly.   THE  PAIN  when  arm  lifts   UNBEARABLE   but   still   he   continues   work.   ‘  want  to  take  turns  ?  ’   of  course   ALLUDING  to   the   naps  that  they   take   ,   he’s   partial  to  sleep   paralysis  ,   and   nightmares.   ‘   maybe   we’ll   get   a  couple   hours  ’  𝚕𝚒𝚙   𝚂𝙻𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃𝙻𝚈   𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚜   𝚊𝚜   𝚑𝚎   𝙼𝙰𝙽𝙰𝙶𝙴𝚂  𝚊   𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎   𝚃𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶   𝚊𝚝   𝚊   𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚍  𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗.   𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍  𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜   𝚑𝚎𝚛   𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚠   𝚊𝚗𝚍  𝚑𝚎  𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚜  𝚝𝚘  𝚏𝚒𝚡  𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚐𝚎   ,  𝚊𝚗𝚍   𝚑𝚎   𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗  𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚜  𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢   𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢   𝚝𝚘  𝚕𝚒𝚎  𝚘𝚗   𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔.  𝚑𝚎   𝙾𝙵𝙵𝙴𝚁𝚂   𝚝𝚑𝚎   𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚎  𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗   𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛   𝚊𝚗𝚍  𝚊𝚛𝚖  𝚏𝚘𝚛  𝚑𝚎𝚛  𝚝𝚘   𝚕𝚒𝚎  𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝.   ‘  you   first  ’

[lunaccult]

— @crssfre: alcohol isn’t going to solve your problems. // Who  said  anything  about  solving  problems?    Who  said  anything  about  problems  at  all?    Nesta  is  wearing  a  watery  smile  that  gives  her  the  air  of  someone  without  a  care  in  the  world.    The  strap  of  her  dress  slides  down  her  arm,    slow  and  sure,    drooping  the  front  of  her  dress  when  she  leans  toward  Juliette.    Her  breath  flirts  with  Jack  and  Jim  and  all  of  their  related  cousins;    Nesta’s  forgotten  who  all  she’s  met  that  night  at  the  bottom  of  a  constantly  refilled  glass.    ❝    Oh,    come  on,    ❞  she  coos,    tugging  at  her  friend’s  arm  as  if  it  might  entice  her  to  join  in  the  dance  party  of  one.    Nesta’s  apartment  is  still  six  stories  up  and  Nesta  is  trying  to  go  back  down  the  six  they’ve  already  come  up  from.    ❝    Tha’s  no’  what  you  said  las’weekend.    Hey.    Do  you  have  my  phone?    Lemme  tex’  my  booty  call;    I  think  he’s  still  up.    If  y’know  what  I  mean.    ❞

[lunaccult]

— @crssfre: did you have another nightmare? // It’s  late  and  he  is  no  closer  to  sleep  than  he  ever  is  at  this  time.    He  isn’t  stupid  enough  to  ask  why  she’s  awake,    though  his  suspicions  niggle  at  the  back  of  his  mind  every  time  they  talk  at  this  hour;    she  has  her  secrets  and  he  has  his.    Maybe  that  mutual  understanding  of  closets  full  of  ghosts  is  why  they  get  on  so  well.    Maybe  it’s  something  else.

Milo’s  got  a  30  second  beat  on  loop  that  she  can  hear  through  the  call  because  she’s  on  speaker.    His  phone  is  propped  against  the  groove  box  to  his  left  so  she  can  hear  the  diddy  as  he  works.    Milo  drops  the  whole  bit  an  octave  and  hums  his  disapproval  before  re  -  composing  it.    In  minor  key,    it  haunts  the  studio.    He  leans  back  in  his  chair  and  scowls  at  the  monitor  in  front  of  him.    ❝    Yeah,    ❞  he  says,    half  to  himself  like  he  doesn’t  even  know  what  he’s  answering.    And  then,    snapping  back  to  reality,    he  blinks  to  her  name  scrolling  back  and  forth  on  his  phone  screen  (E  -  GIRLS  ARE  RUINING  MY  LIFE!,    he’d  very  affectionately  saved  her  number  under).    ❝    You’re  not  even  home,    are  you?    ❞

[archivedsleuth]

there was nothing more heartbreaking than having your questionable plans doubted and,  well,  questioned.   benoit blinks at  @crssfre​  in sheer offence at her gut wrenching words  :    ❝ looks like we’re gonna live after all. for a little while longer, at least. ❞    oh, the gall of her.   yes,  they made it out  by a hair.  and  yes,  he did make up the escape plan as they went along   AND YES,   he had gotten shot.   bu the was  all healed up  as per his  excellent  organism  [  and healing factor  ]   and could not help but look insulted at his companion’s lack of faith.   ❝   well,  don’t sound so suprised!   ❞   argues benoit, irritated and with hands on his hips.   ❝   everything  worked out,  didn’t it?  we’re both in one piece and my plan unfolded  just as i planned it.  ❞   save for two or three unexpected turns,  but he’d managed those.  remembering the  hole  in his shirt from the bullet wound,  he discreetly moves his hand’s location to cover it instead.   ❝  i don’t recall hearing any  valuable input  from  you,  anyhow.  ❞

[batfall-moved]

                                     𝙼𝙸𝙳𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃   𝚙𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜   ,   𝚝𝚑𝚎   𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚜   𝚘𝚏   𝚆𝙰𝚈𝙽𝙴   𝚃𝙾𝚆𝙴𝚁𝚂   𝚜𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐   𝚊𝚜   𝚑𝚎    𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜    𝚏𝚘𝚛    𝚋𝚊𝚐.   they   had   always    had   POLARIZING   viewpoints   at   times.    ANGER   for   juliette   BLINDS     and   TRAUMA   for   bruce    does   equal   harm.    the   faint   sounds   of   helicopters   as   the   CITY   NEVER   SLEEPS.    there   will   always   be    something   that   BENDS   their   attention.    he   hasn’t   FULLY    understood   how   to  DIVIDE   time  ,   𝚊𝚗𝚍  𝚑𝚎’𝚜   𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎   𝚜𝚑𝚎  𝚂𝚃𝚁𝚄𝙶𝙶𝙻𝙴𝚂   𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑  𝚊   𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚛   𝚊𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚜   𝚘𝚏   𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐  𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙴   𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗   𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝   𝚝𝚑𝚎   𝚎𝚢𝚎   𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚜.    it’s   then   when   he   looks   back   at   her.     

                 [ ‘  i don’t care what happens to me.  ’   /  @crssfre​  ]

                            𝚝𝚑𝚎   𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜   𝚗𝚘𝚝   𝚞𝚗𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎   𝚑𝚒𝚜  𝚘𝚠𝚗  𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝   𝚑𝚎  𝚑𝚊𝚜   𝙼𝚄𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙴𝙳   𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜   𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜   𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎.   ‘   i   do  ’    words     said   in   a   whisper    as    his   blue   eyes   look   down,  and  he   SEES   more   than   just   the   best   friend   he’s   had   since  he  could    remember.   ‘   do   you   think   that   hate   will   always   be  there?  ’   this   question   said   an  octave  higher   as  he   then   licks   lips,  and    looks   down.   ‘   it’s    easy   to   hate   . . .   sometimes   it   feels   LIKE   breathing  ’  𝚑𝚎𝚛   𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍  𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚜   𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗   𝚠𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚗   𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎   𝚊𝚗𝚍    𝚑𝚒𝚜   𝚘𝚠𝚗   𝙲𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙾𝚄𝚂𝙴𝙳   𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍   𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜   𝚑𝚎𝚛   𝚘𝚠𝚗.  ‘   don’t   let   that   eat   away   at   you    ,    i   NEED   you   around   ’   THUMB   lightly   strokes   the   soft   skin   above   fingers,  ‘   we’ll   get  through   ALL   of    this   together  ,   i’m   not   gonna   leave   you   in   that   DARKNESS  ’   

[batfall-moved]

                                      𝙴𝚇𝙷𝙰𝚄𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽   𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚜   𝚊𝚗𝚍    𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚋𝚜   𝚋𝚎𝚐   𝚏𝚘𝚛   𝚑𝚒𝚖  𝚝𝚘   𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎   𝚊  𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔.   he’s   PUSHING  himself   to   the   point  of   no   RETURN,   there   is  no   ROOM   for   self    as   the   whole   of   GOTHAM   occupies   mind.   the   funeral   had   been   a   reminder  of   that,   the   LENGTHS   that   the   riddler   would   go   to   be   HEARD.   he   wonders  if   the   riddler   sleeps   . . .   couch   WELCOMING   as   frame   falls   upon   it,  and   RIBS   ache.   still,  it’s   a  reminder  of  just  how  much   WORK  he   has   LEFT.  

[ ‘  i’m staying.  end of discussion.  you gotta learn to let people take care of you.  ’ @crssfre​ ] 

                                      WORDS   insistent   even   as   he   reiterates   the  fact  that  he’s   FINE.    he’s   fine  ,   he’s  fine  ,   he’s   F   I  N  E.  𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚞𝚖𝚊  𝚒𝚝   𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜  𝚝𝚑𝚎  𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕   𝚝𝚘  𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝   𝙲𝙾𝙽𝙳𝙸𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝙰𝙻   𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚎.   for   he  knows   even   as   he  SPRAWLS  out  on  couch  he  is  FAR  from   fine.   the  headaches  come,   perhaps   an   outcome   of   his    INSISTENT   fighting,   and   he   gives   up.   ‘   i   should’ve   tracked   the   stream  .  . .   PINGED   his   IP  address            fucker  probably  uses  a   VPN  ,   though  i  know  how  to  get   around   that  ’   HE  TALKS   as   he   reaches   for   the  water   that   juliette   has  brought,  their  𝙵𝙸𝙽𝙶𝙴𝚁𝚂  𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑  𝚊𝚜   𝚑𝚎   𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜   𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜  𝚊𝚗𝚍   𝚊𝚜  𝚑𝚎  𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜  𝚞𝚙  𝚑𝚎  𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚜  𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜  𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑  𝚑𝚎𝚛.   ‘   thank   you  ’