#shelassos

frank thinks he has a semblance of self-control and patience, or maybe he's a goddamn idiot for deluding himself into thinking so. considering he's queued in the lobby of diana's apartment building almost as soon as the thought to head to that side of town strikes him, his broad form an anomaly in the sleek environment of the foyer. her doorman shoots him a stare that frank reciprocates.

ʙᴀɴɢ! ╾━╤デ╦︻          He's sitting down. A collection of limbs. Hunched over with bruising marting his face. Tongue laps at the split in his lip for a second as he refuses to look at her. Eyes forward. Anger and pain radiated off of him like a fox in a bear trap. One breath away from biting off its own limb. Though the ties that bind him here are all unseen. Connection to a family he felt ostracized from for a change in philosophy. He speaks lowly, clearly.

He’s standing at the bar on his third glass of Irish whisky when he sees her walk in.    Actually,    it would be more accurate to say that he sees everyone else see her walk in.    There is a sudden lull in conversation,    a whispering passing through the crowd as the stranger makes her way into the crowded barroom. 

Thomas puts out his cigarette and picks up his whisky,    downing it all in one swallow.    Then he turns to face the stranger,    a welcoming smile settled softly onto his features. 

“ Gentlemen.    That’s no way to greet a lady,    ‘ey ?   Oi,   barkeep,”    he turns briefly to point a finger at the poor sod behind the bar.    “ Whatever she wants,     it’s on the ‘ouse. ”

He walks up to her and extends his hand to shake.   “ Tommy Shelby.    And you are ? ”

| Holiday Season Prompts | @shelassos​  ||     [ blanket ]  for the sender to wrap the receiver in a big, warm blanket let's do pre joker toxin!

   { ⛓ } – THESE TRADITIONS became overly taxing, wholly dependent on cooperation and levels of awkward merriment equalling other members of the League. But pessimism wasn’t a relished factor among that time, and encouraged a willingness instead to shy from his cave of isolation, and instead embrace companionship, and love. FAMILY. In a sense, that’s what they were to the Dark Knight, but admittance to such affections came with difficulty at first. Expanding beyond the familial bonds he’d nurtured with his children, and butler, this took TIME. Until... the mere company of the Justice League, in celebration of Christmas Eve brought an odd sense of security to the Batman. In ways he hadn’t expected, but it was pleasant. Normal.

Still, Bruce in all his magnificent glory was introverted at heart, and after enough conversation with Metropolis’ own Man of Steel, the billionaire respectfully excused himself. The nagging sensation of paranoia washed over fair skin in drives, desperately seeking solace, and fresh air to expel the plague. Regardless of Winter’s threatening chill beyond balcony doors, he pushed through them, immediately supping at the oxygen granted to him through a deep breath of air. He just required time to collect his thoughts. Undertaking a grand endeavour like holding a party at his own mansion was A LOT, but he survived, while ignoring the coolness wrapping around his form. 

SOMETHING exploded within the night sky that moment, illuminating Gotham in brilliant lights, glimmering in various shapes and shades. Fireworks fired off with controlled bursts, and for a moment Bruce contemplated whether or not they were legal, but ignored his curious temptations for the meantime. Rather, the rhythmic timing of their ascension into the sky was... captivating. One after another, at times multiple at once – and this spurred a memory. Of youthful excitement within the hands of a guardian, DELIGHTFULLY exclaiming the radiance that blinded his vision. Christmas with his parents, days untampered and full of love. In the midst of such vulnerable recounts, blue eyes softened to the scene of those same fireworks.

Until a weight gathered around the vigilante’s shoulders, gently embracing him with coverage from the amassing cold, and flakes of snow on him. A blanket, he instantly realised as Bruce turned to apprehend the one responsible – Diana. How long had he been standing out there, he wondered. Enough that Wonder Woman discovered his absence from the party, and sought him out. A reassuring warmth spread from the cover of the blanket, and Bruce cleared his throat, adjusting it so it sat over him more accurately, accepting the offering without so much as a complaint. Rather he spoke in kind, “ Thank you. I’ll be back inside soon, I just...” The Dark Knight shifted, that brooding gaze returning to the display of fireworks in the distance. 

“ – Needed time. ” Came the words, drawled somewhat, as the mesmerization returned, though not for long as he properly welcome the woman’s presence beside him. Kindness was deserving of kindness in return, and, so long as the Amazon accepted, Bruce extended the blanket to his side, and placed it somewhat around her as well. Shielding them from natura’s wrath, and instead inviting comfort. There, he hummed with a small smile, and enjoyed the spectacle with her.

"I wish I could, Diana." How many times has he chosen his duty over his own desires? More times than most people even have the option to. The facade of billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne often indulges, but that's not following his heart, it's an act, put on for the public in order to mask and deter from his real job.

Over the years, his mental-wellbeing has taken just as many hits as his physical state, but the real reason following his heart scares him is the vulnerability that it entails; something that he refuses to let get exploited again. Being guarded and suspicious is so much easier. "I really wish I could."

i haven’t felt at the fuck all creative and i have to deal with this horribly uninspired sensation i can’t get rid of. but it’s creeping back in. i just… couldn’t manage the energy to love or want to love anything. but i’ve done yet another rewatch with @dinobitten and fox, as they are always talented at doing, has brought out a lot of my creativity from where it decided to hide from me. a warning: this means i’m going to 0% control my writing styles unless requested specifically for a thread with the partner. if it personally bugs you, please inform me and i won’t do the different writing styles for our specific thread.

otherwise, expect me to probably match tone or perspective that you set because once you get the flow, you get the flow. i find that if reading someone’s second or first person reply, i tend to flow into complementing in my own reply their preferred writing style. it makes me feel less like i’m shackled by the bullshit english degree that beat too much consistency into me. i’m just way better when i’m untethered and i gotta remember to embrace that.

+ @shelassos​ asked:  we all have our scars. (for ashley barrett cos i think that would be interesting)

+ Ashley SILENTLY mulled over the other woman’s words for a moment or two , clearly CONSIDERING them . Scars were something it seemed EVERYONE in the higher reaches of VOUGHT had in abundance , even if they were HUSHED up and buried away in the back of everyone’s minds . She certainly her OWN after everything that working with HOMELANDER had put her through . 

The last thing she would ADMIT to was that she had given almost EVERYTHING to a position that she knew she could be REPLACED in if the right NERVE was struck .