[ bruce decides to follow the throng of imitation smiles towards the town hall, having early found a black peacoat sitting in the master bedroom closet waiting for him expectantly. once prepared, he slips into the crowd inconspicuously and listens as the various announcers prattle on. he's surprised to find he's not the only one without a smile, noting dale harding early on but losing the chance later to talk to him as he quickly departs present company. now that the stage is empty, he can't help but feel watched by the glassy eyes around him, even as they talk to themselves. he begins to wonder idly if they were once people like him before this town really got its claws into them.
it's an opportunity to leave. he didn't exactly get any of the information he might have wanted, but he did get a list of names, at the very least: dale harding, phillip clarke, someone named cathy, seemingly a member of the happy homes association, and another stranger named margie. that's enough for him to look into during the coming days, though the christmas trees for sale make him take pause. he's not one for celebrating himself, but the pictures on the wall at home remind him of his not-daughter, the odd little girl named kipo, who very obviously wasn't his, and very obviously wasn't one of them. still, she was young and alone, living with a strange man who fancied dressing up as a bat at night to beat criminals to a pulp, so perhaps a small tree at least would bring her a sense of normalcy. he hadn't bothered to ask her if she celebrated christmas where she was from. too late, anyhow, as he easily slung it over his shoulder and began the trek back home. ]
Christmas Village
[ the door to the garage leads him to the magical village, and he's not thrilled. not only to be teleported somewhere else unexpectedly-- a new variable to worry about, to be certain-- but also that everyone else here that isn't one of the shambling masses seem so cavalier about it. on the plus side, he hasn't found any razor blades in the food yet, something he has a distant memory of, like a dream, yet can remember vividly, but he also only ever spectates areas like the frozen pond, workshops, or bar. there's a creeping sensation that something will inevitably go wrong with all of this, though that moment never comes, and he'll wonder briefly whether this feeling is a consequence of this new place, or something ingrained into him from experiences back home in gotham... ]
The Mayor Has Invited You
[ likewise with the village and all of the other events, bruce will attend the gala for information. to familiarize himself with his surroundings and the people who don't seem to be just smiling emptily at him or offering him plates of jello. well, they might do that too, but at least they'll have something more to say to him than small talk about the weather. for how overtly suspicious the whole disturbance of being brought to santa rosita has been, these past few days have been anything but, putting him on edge; like they're all standing in the eye of the storm and they can't notice what's staring right at them.
but much to the chagrin of the HHA, he's bruce wayne, and while you might have expected him to look awful in some off the rack sears roebuck blazer, he instead looks incredible, floral pattern and all. it's very hard to make the billionaire-- or ex-billionaire-- look bad in a suit, and he wasn't about to start today. but throughout the night, as with santa's wondrous village, you'll find him teetering on the outskirts of the gala, watching instead of participating, lest he call more attention to himself than he wants. after all, a big red fucking blazer was more indiscreet than his usual black... ]
Wildcard
[ bruce is a scrooge! these prompts not doing it for you? feel free to throw absolutely anything at me, or message me on BATGUY if you'd like me to write you a closed prompt or if you'd like to plan something specific! BAH HUMBUG! ]
Bruce Wayne | DC Comics
[ bruce decides to follow the throng of imitation smiles towards the town hall, having early found a black peacoat sitting in the master bedroom closet waiting for him expectantly. once prepared, he slips into the crowd inconspicuously and listens as the various announcers prattle on. he's surprised to find he's not the only one without a smile, noting dale harding early on but losing the chance later to talk to him as he quickly departs present company. now that the stage is empty, he can't help but feel watched by the glassy eyes around him, even as they talk to themselves. he begins to wonder idly if they were once people like him before this town really got its claws into them.
it's an opportunity to leave. he didn't exactly get any of the information he might have wanted, but he did get a list of names, at the very least: dale harding, phillip clarke, someone named cathy, seemingly a member of the happy homes association, and another stranger named margie. that's enough for him to look into during the coming days, though the christmas trees for sale make him take pause. he's not one for celebrating himself, but the pictures on the wall at home remind him of his not-daughter, the odd little girl named kipo, who very obviously wasn't his, and very obviously wasn't one of them. still, she was young and alone, living with a strange man who fancied dressing up as a bat at night to beat criminals to a pulp, so perhaps a small tree at least would bring her a sense of normalcy. he hadn't bothered to ask her if she celebrated christmas where she was from. too late, anyhow, as he easily slung it over his shoulder and began the trek back home. ]
Christmas Village
[ the door to the garage leads him to the magical village, and he's not thrilled. not only to be teleported somewhere else unexpectedly-- a new variable to worry about, to be certain-- but also that everyone else here that isn't one of the shambling masses seem so cavalier about it. on the plus side, he hasn't found any razor blades in the food yet, something he has a distant memory of, like a dream, yet can remember vividly, but he also only ever spectates areas like the frozen pond, workshops, or bar. there's a creeping sensation that something will inevitably go wrong with all of this, though that moment never comes, and he'll wonder briefly whether this feeling is a consequence of this new place, or something ingrained into him from experiences back home in gotham... ]
The Mayor Has Invited You
[ likewise with the village and all of the other events, bruce will attend the gala for information. to familiarize himself with his surroundings and the people who don't seem to be just smiling emptily at him or offering him plates of jello. well, they might do that too, but at least they'll have something more to say to him than small talk about the weather. for how overtly suspicious the whole disturbance of being brought to santa rosita has been, these past few days have been anything but, putting him on edge; like they're all standing in the eye of the storm and they can't notice what's staring right at them.
but much to the chagrin of the HHA, he's bruce wayne, and while you might have expected him to look awful in some off the rack sears roebuck blazer, he instead looks incredible, floral pattern and all. it's very hard to make the billionaire-- or ex-billionaire-- look bad in a suit, and he wasn't about to start today. but throughout the night, as with santa's wondrous village, you'll find him teetering on the outskirts of the gala, watching instead of participating, lest he call more attention to himself than he wants. after all, a big red fucking blazer was more indiscreet than his usual black... ]
Wildcard
[ bruce is a scrooge! these prompts not doing it for you? feel free to throw absolutely anything at me, or message me on