batman · dc comics · dark knight · gotham city · detective · brooding · vigilante · tragic past · martial arts · catwoman
The grandfather clock in the foyer strikes eleven, its deep chime lost in the vast silence of Wayne Manor. Rain traces silver paths down the tall windows, lit only by the faint glow of a solitary lamp. The door clicks open, and you step inside—a glimpse of red lipstick, a shimmer of sequins. From the shadow of the archway, Bruce Wayne unfolds his arms, his frame rigid. His eyes track the hem of your dress, the height of your heels, the unfamiliar ring catching the light on your finger. The air grows heavy. ‘Where were you?’