| motivation has fallen off hardcore apologies

Someone —- something different.

“Hello.” Bruce says, quietly, firmly. “Haven’t seen you here before. Bruce Wayne.”

But. . with Alfred’s advice —- he had come to terms with being something more. For Batman to live —- so should Bruce Wayne.

He moved across the open floor, wannabe aristocrats lauded at him. But his eyes were elsewhere. In the silhouette that stood like marble, with a casting shadow of moonlight.

Cameras flash and pop before the spectacle is gone. In the first two years, where night and day scattered and blended —- Bruce Wayne was a myth. Like someone who didn’t belong in the city. A recluse of what the Wayne Name used to be.

| heading to a festival, replies when I’m home :)

A stop before the hosting building. “Try to be kind.”

Bruce gave him a scoff, and no answer. He didn’t have time for their usual banter. He exited the car, cameras flash and words murmur. “Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne! Over here, Gotham Gazette!” All so. .tiresome. Hopefully this night would be quick.

But, the zoologist he was, Dr. Kurt was a frequent supporter and advisor of the GHFH.

Someone, here, will know what happened to Langstrom. And he’ll find out. “And remember Master Bruce.” Alfred’s voice cuts him out of his own thoughts, the the breaks of the limo squeak as the come to

As if he needed one.

But why is he here, tonight? Because Kurt Langstrom has been missing for over 72 hours. And now his former lawyer has been missing for over 32 hours. With Langstrom’s wife dead, he was running out of ends to tighten.

—- @furfeles.bsky.social
Gotham.
South Central.
Gotham Habitats For Humanity Event.

His collar is too tight. Alfred knows he hates when his collar is too tight. He hasn’t been in a suit in three weeks. The Wayne Enterprise Board of Directors thought he was on vacation.

| slender build Batman is always so peak to me, I do like that idea of him becoming thicc as an older man

Board meeting. He’s half away for it. Researching all night until the sun began to seep through the Manor.

No one can find a hint of Langstrom. How?

Langstrom had a wife.

Mariah. She worked for ACE Chemicals. A factory mishap left her deaf in both ears. Kurt took the company to court, but on the day of their trial, his lawyer simply didn’t show up. Mariah died a year after from other complications related to the plant.

In between.

Blood. Langstrom’s blood. Finally —- a trial that lets him know he’s alive. An abandon car in The Bowery, doesn’t belong to Dr. Langstrom, his lawyer. Missing now as well. What were the two doing together?

| legit, her and Pattinson may be the best to ever do it

Neither are you. ( he says in a leap, his heel aimed at Joker’s chin. )

( quickly, like a snap of a viper, his hand extends out from the lengthy cape. A single Batarang, that is all he believes he’ll need —- aimed true at the clown. He can’t miss. He won’t. )

| this is me getting you guys ready for his aesthetic change. My hyper brain needs an explanation for why is layout / suit would change.

Year 2.

Reinforced tri-weave over segmented armor. Thicker cowl, stronger gauntlets, refined utility belt. Built to endure longer nights.

🎨 - Jim Lee, Batman: Hush.

Year 1.

A stitched tri-weave bodysuit over flexible armor plating. Light, silent, unfinished. The yellow crest serves as a target —- drawing fire from the cowl and heart. Built for fear, not comfort. Every tear, every stitch. Learned the hard way.

🎨 - Gary Frank, Batman: Earth One.

( stable. Unmoving. )

Let him go. This isn’t between you and The Boy.

Calendar Man loves this day.

Distracted. He’s been watching her instead —- so he turns quickly and the yellow above reflects of the pointed cowl upon his helm. He speaks, but he doesn’t look at her, not anymore.

“No, we aren’t.” And before another word is said, he is in the air —- leaping for the city below.

bsky.app/profile/umba...

𝖡𝖺𝗍-𝖲𝗎𝗂𝗍𝗌.

“Hm.”

Is all he can muster to say, for there is fear what if he may say more. This was. .something. He’ll 𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧 it. Surely. But behind him a yellow lit oval hits the sky, and amongst the clouds that seemed to stretch apart —- a symbol flatters the stars.

They are close. So close now. Something in him tells him this is a dangerous game —- one he hardly know. Two years of nights —- one year of her. Whoever she was. One year and eight months, now all seemed to be cumulating on a rooftop amongst clouds. “You’ll learn to lose.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

But neither could she. “We’ll just have to learn to trust the 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙨.”

Something. And at this point even he’s not sure, so his step again his slow and daunting, and by the time he’s closed the gap between them the rain above Gotham began to cease.

He’s 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩. Most of the times. But he’s standing so close to her now he bends his neck to look down towards her. (c)