gothamsaved

[gothamsaved]

` 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐀 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐄 what are you willing to pay to make it a reality…?

Independent &&. Highly Selective Jayce Talis from Arcane / League of Legends. Canon-divergent / personal headcanon based portrayal. Forged by Bastian &&. narratively interwoven with @/machineheralded

`   rules ⟢ about ⟢ verses ⟢ wanted plots

[gothamsaved]

Superbat Moments #16

Celebrating holidays together & remembering birthdays

Superbat Master Collection

[gothamsaved]

𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐊𝐑𝐘𝐏𝐓𝐎𝐍:

an independent, exceptionally private + mutuals only roleplay blog for 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓 / 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍. headcanon-based. beta editor only. heavily affiliated & lore is intertwined with @gothamsaved. influences for this portrayal stem from Christopher Reeve’s exceptional rendition of Superman, the tv series Smallville, the animated Justice League and Superman series (1996), and various comics.

beloved by Vik. they/he. 21+. EST.

© established 1/24/2024.

[gothamsaved]

Scattered headcanons I will attempt to explain more in future when I’m not eepy 🫡

[gothamsaved]

This still makes me cackle. CANON IM SORRY @saintfromkrypton

[gothamsaved]

` ＊ 𝙿𝙷𝙾𝚃𝙾𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙷𝙸𝙲 𝙴𝚅𝙸𝙳𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴 [ ; ] 𝙴𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚜 ↳ Right Shoulder — Healed Lichtenberg Scars

` 001. HISTORY / INFORMATION .

Feathering skin injuries are pathognomonic of lightning &&. are known as Lichtenberg's figures or flowers, filigree burns, keraunographic markings, arborescent burns &&. ferning.

The wound was received during a fight with an enemy where a bundle of exposed electrical cables were purposefully knocked where he stood. Bruce is lucky to escape alive after being so badly wounded — his suit absorbed the brunt of the damage, the burn is thankfully, purely superficial. Bruce was knocked unconscious &&. brought by an ally to safety where his wounds were quickly patched up. He regained consciousness a few hours later. Bruce was unmonitored for the first few days following the initial wounding , too busy to properly rest &&. care for them, possibly contributing to the resulting strength of scarring from lack of appropriate care. Despite this, he has thankfully, fully recovered with little to no long lasting effects.

The Lichtenberg figures on Bruce’s right arm are typical for those who have been “struck by lightning”, but the “lightning flowers” usually only persist for a few hours or a few days ; they don’t typically stay for long.

So far the only lingering effects after fully healing are random aches &&. the occasional pains, irritated &&. tender skin &&. of course — seemingly permanent pale figures.

BRUCE’S NOTES:

[gothamsaved]

` ＊ 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐂 𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ↳ 𝙰𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚜 &&. Countenance / 𝙿𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝

` From dusk 'til dawn I'll make my way …

[gothamsaved]

Littol kind of sketch geeft for @saintfromkrypton (っᵔ◡ᵔ)っ

[gothamsaved]

` ＊ 𝑺𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒗𝒊𝒔 𝑴𝒂𝒈𝒏𝒂 "𝑮𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝑺𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝑩𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔."

` ▐ 𝑮𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑴 𝑪𝑰𝑻𝒀 population — 10.5 million Gotham City is more than my hometown ; it’s my Passion Project. When I look onto that skyline, I don’t see a City… I see a living breathing organism that keeps evolving, adapting to new threats. I must adapt with it.

¹.Childhood II : Atrium Carceri ▸ ².The First Hunter : SIE Sound Team ▸ ³.Village of Shadows : Marcin Przybyiowicz ▸ ⁴.Decent Men in an Undecent Time : Hanz Zimmer, James Newton Howard ▸ ⁵.Fight Night : Atanaz Valkov ▸ ⁶.Comfort of the Night Mother : Atrium Carceri ▸ ⁷.Journey Home : Atrium Carceri ▸ ⁸.Dark Water : Mikko Tarmia ▸ ⁹.Bridges : Mikko Tarmia ▸ ¹⁰.Close to Evil : Mikko Tarmia … &&. more.

[gothamsaved]

Peeking back here to say m gonna be cleaning house a bit. I’ll attempt to be back after the holidays if Bruce wakes up. For now methinks this is a good idea just to ensure my blog is ready to go and comfy when I do return to write 💕

[gothamsaved]

Good morning my Beloved,

Your writing is exceptional, and you inspire me so much. The way you phrase sentences... it's nothing short of magic, Sebastian. Good gods, I love when you write against me. You are so skilled. My other half in every way.

I adore you. Mi corazon y mi mundo.

Exploring SuperBat is so fun with you. I have never had such fun before. We get to craft wonderful plots and stories.

I am so grateful you exist, and that you are not only my life partner, but my best friend.

I lucked out with having the most talented partner I could ever have.

Your Batman is awe-inspiring. I love how you focus upon his heart, his compassion. The softness that melts through his stoicism.

I just, holy shit, lovebug, you're so talented.

😭😭😭😭😭

WASNT EXPECTING THIS WHAT THE HELL V—

I mean it in a holy shit I’m surprised in a positive way but aaaaaaaaa

[gothamsaved]

tfw you have a reputation to maintain but a sparkly alien keeps trying to become friends with you 😔✨️

[gothamsaved]

Scattered headcanons I will attempt to explain more in future when I’m not eepy 🫡

[gothamsaved]

` 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬…  𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞,  𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐞’𝐬 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

[ … ] The were a lot of rumours regarding what he truly was.  The most popular of the theories circulating are of him being an odd nocturnal cryptid,  more animal than man,  a beast who solely sought to terrorize Gotham when daylight burned low   &&.   the moon hung high above.  Others a cautionary tale like the Boogeyman.  Other’s knew him as a mysterious figure who had the eerie potential to appear from thin air.  A living shadow with a likeness to bats.  All inhuman all the same.

He’d never made much effort to change the views brewing about his sleepy City,  finding the more that spawned,  they had an undeniably helpful affect when it came to his reputation.  Though…  when it came to the occasional child he’d come to help,  ones that had gotten unfortunately tangled up in some older cases…  They rarely ever seemed to fear him.

Looming at an intimidating height for a majority of those he’d hunt during his patrols or work alongside,  it was…  expected to be met with open hostility or fear.  It was more than a little amusing when he’d be asked the odd yet curious question by those unafraid.

The Bat takes a moment to weigh between his options   —   on playing into the bat-themed ideas or to answer honestly,  grunting in acknlowledging contemplation before he huffs out a quiet sigh.  Unfamiliar with @atcmicbxtty,  but noting with a thin of his lens-guarded sights she seemed to mean little harm overall   —   he answers with a set deadpan expression, his monotonous voice offering an almost playful sort of mystery in whether or not he was truly joking.

` ❝ On occasion.  Though it can be uncomfortable at times.  I don’t recommend it. ❞

` [ ꗃ ] TRANSMISSION RECEIVED ˒﹚) ↳ "Dumb question, but do you sleep upside down? Y'know... since.. your name is Batman."

[gothamsaved]

Quick thing I noticed but if Bruce refers to himself as “Bruce” more in replies? He’s talking to your muse or feels more like himself without the cowl around them. I noticed he does that to Clark and Damian, but with others he doesn’t know he removes all traces of “Bruce” entirely and sticks to just referring to himself as “Gotham’s Knight” or “The Bat”, almost as though yeah removing any personal touches or connection from the situation entirely.

[gothamsaved]

` 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥-𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐬,  𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐰,  𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭.

[ … ] His mask is carefully set in place,  all playful sights edged in something luring,  encouraging,  while also holding a certain ditzy aloofness to him he only bore so strongly in this persona.  Maybe it came off too strong in the moment,  his voice taking a more softened,  higher pitch to better differentiate from the gravely growling tone he knew the other was most familiar with.

` ❝ Careful now,  Boyscout…   wouldn’t want to overstay your welcome in Gotham,  now would you? ❞

There’s a warning hint of threat there,  in how his carefully crafted mask quakes,  thinly contained anger at having his personal life,  his intensely protected secret being so easily discovered.  He watches in faux,  trained calm as the other meanders through his office space,  undoubtedly judging closely what was built up to further sell his image of Bruce Wayne over inciting suspicion on Gotham’s beloved ‘Prince’ being her very Knight instead.  The sense of danger,  betrayal at having his identity unveiled without his permission   –   it refuses to leave.  He feels tightly wound,  bristling with each taken breath as his pale gaze thins to a sharpened dagger’s edge.

He braces for Blackmail.  For a sudden unveiling of the man’s own kind-hearted visage to something more smug,  more arrogant at having found the Bat when no one else held such an achievement.  Like rubbing salt in a freshly cut wound   –   the utterance of his name leaves his smile to grow more rigid,  more toothy.  Less an inviting attempt to sway stray thoughts,  ever leaning more towards a bared snarl bit by bit.  A hand remains burrowed in one of his pockets,  his free one clenching at his side as he stands off to the side within the wide open room,  shoulders squared,  stance statue stiffened.

He defiantly holds it as the other turns to face him,  voice a mockingly honeyed tone as he crosses his arms over his chest.  The smug crook of his lips makes him want to break character,  his heart thundering away in as gracefully a riled manner as it can manage.  Arrogant… there it was.  He scoffs,  expression finally falling into an irritated scowl,  lake-warm sights chilling over into glacial toned greys,  giving way to the familiar ‘grumpiness’ Superman had often teased him for on the rare occasion their paths had crossed.

The recognition he can spot blooming along the others face sparks another fresh flare of justified annoyance.

` ❝ So you’ve figured it out… ❞

All he needed to complete the annoyance was to clap slowly.  Gone was the earlier warmth,  now came monotonous sarcasm,  disappointment teasing along his words edges as he moves to better mirror the journalist's stance.  As if in apologetic offering,  the man removes his glasses,  tucking them delicately into his breast pocket,  turning vivid sights back the Bat’s way.  He’s…  only a little frustrated the bastard’s so easily hidden,  how well he blends in with something as small as mussed hair   &&.   a pair of simple glasses.  It’s almost insulting he hadn’t thought to consider it.

Like day   &&.   night,  as easy as flipping a switch,   gone was the humble,  mild-mannered man he had seen glimpses of,  present now was the confident but familiar metahuman,  Superman.  Silence threads itself more thickly between the vigilante   &&.  the hero,  the eerie nature of it prickling at his neck like a cat with its hair on end.  He feels he’s being observed a lot more closely than he can discern.  Being as bare as he is at the moment,  his expression darkens.  But other eventually continues,  thankfully getting into why he’d done all this,  what led him to revealing identities now of all times.

` ❝ Who’s to say Wayne Enterprises doesn’t own an Agency somewhere,  hmm? ❞

The compliment to his skills does manage to quell his simmering anger down a startling amount,  allowing some of his past,  if flat humour to peek through.  Though when bright,  disturbingly,  vaguely familiar eyes land back on him again,  this time,  more openly tracing his own features,  studying his eyes,  his hair   –   it scrapes over what feels like an unhealed wound.  He’s familiar,  vaguely so.  But he can’t place a name to the face,  nor a specific memory to their potential meeting.

His prickling hostility eases down a bit more,  firmly studying his face with a strain of his jaw as he continues on.  A soft ‘but?’ coupled with the pointed arch of his brow follow as Superman’s voice trails off,  before it picks up again.  When the man continues,  there’s a much more… genuine sort of restlessness that suddenly bleeds through.  Still confident,  still holding a strong air of composure to him,  control that Bruce begrudgingly can respect   –   it’s now tainted in what he can see is genuine worry.  Fear.

It’s enough to hook   &&.   hold his attention as his brows knit together in contemplative thought,  mentally logging away the details being shared as Superman speaks while pacing.  More   &&.  more,  with what’s been shared…   his own paranoia is strong enough to wash away the prior irritation felt.  He’d been looking into Kryptonite on his own since meeting the alien.  While it may have been rude on his end,  it was the one thing known to hold a definite effect on the seemingly untouchable,  unstoppable man.  He’d been curious,  wondering about the other affects it could potentially hold.  He didn’t know there were other variants,  though…  Red on principle wasn’t often associated with much good.

` ❝ Whatever you have in mind,  I’m willing to hear you out.  It sounds dangerous enough…  so I suppose I can forgive this. ❞

For the timing being, anyways. The whiplash of this entire situation?   It was enough to make even his head spin.  The break in trust soon mended with the admission Superman of all people trusted Batman enough to form a contingency plan should he turn against the general populace?  Concern glints in pale sights as he steps in closer,  not enough to entirely bridge the gap between,  but enough to hopefully communicate to the bastard he was listening,  open to helping how he could.

A weakened shrug of a shoulder Bruce lowly mutters about ‘an eye for an eye is fair’,  head coming to an intrigued tilt as he casts a glance down to the hand held his way.  Peering at it another moment longer,  he doesn’t break the contact until Superman finishes speaking,  the name he shares hitting the Bat with all the same force of a bullet from a shotgun.  He feels momentarily winded,  blinking in clear disbelief as his expression screws up sharply,  a small step taken back with smoothened grace even when his heart skips a beat.

A hand lifts,  finger pointing in the journalist’s direction and shaking slowly a single time.

` ❝ No…   No,  that can’t be.  Clark Kent?  You can’t be... ❞

But…  the more he looks,  the longer he studies him.  The more some similarities begin to stand out.  They match up with his hazy memory from ages ago a little too well…   inhaling sharply from his nose,  he insists firmly he knew the Kents.

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐆 ➪ do you stick your head into everyone's business, or just mine?

𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄; 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐑𝐘𝐏𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒, 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐀𝐓 𝐀 𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐄💫

A sweeping glance shows the detective's taste in civilian life - the furnishings are tasteful, if a little. . . minimalist. It surely isn't the same as his cozy Metropolis apartment! Then again, Gotham itself has always been darker, as if the city itself preferred the shadows.

"Why, Batman," he grits out, a harsh whisper in the pristine (maybe highly soundproofed?) office space of the Gothamite named Bruce Wayne, "I wouldn't dream of it." The journalist crosses his arms over his professional wear, a slight smug smirk dancing upon his lips. Clark has always been one to have a lopsided, boyish smile, and his smirks are no different.

The white dress shirt and vest do hide his physique, but it doesn't help much, as he has long shifted from his reserved reporter body language to his more confident, taller presentation as Superman.

Kent had no reason to hide himself in front of the other - not now, not ever. Batman had actually gained his trust, even though it seemed they were at odds more than ever. He takes off the glasses and puts them in his breast pocket,

Batman's heartbeat is something so unique: staccato and yet strong, loud, and rapid. But no anxiety came from such a heartbeat. Instead, it is the heartbeat of one so in tune with their body, their focus is razor sharp, alert -

"When I followed you, I didn't expect you to actually be conducting business. Really? Of all of the places I thought you'd work, I didn't think you'd be a CEO. I had hoped you had your own private investigation agency. It makes a lot of sense. You're the best detective I know."

He gives a small laugh, blue eyes focusing on Bruce's features. As he studies him, Kent can't deny that there's a familiar resonance from seeing those grey eyes and dark hair. He may not be able to place it, but it causes warmth to stir in his chest in a slow wave.

"I'm here because it's important. I noticed your heartbeat and tracked you here. Under normal circumstances, I would have ignored it, and not wanted to know, protect the divide between what we do and how we live, but you're the only one I can trust."

He swallows the lump of coal in his throat down, and he suddenly can't stand still, "Lex Luthor just gave me an interview. He doesn't know it's me, I don't think."

Nervousness makes Kent look away, and he paces around the office.

"But the point, why I'm here. He's planning on creating new tech - a special weapon with Kryptonite ammunition. But these aren't green. They're red, B. He thinks they're more lethal to me. That's not the case, however. When red Kryptonite hits me, I change into a different person. I have no morals. I become a danger to the populace. I need your help. Not just against Lex, but against myself if it came down to it."

Superman turns to face the best friend he'd ever known, entirely unaware that Bruce Wayne is the same Bruce Pennyworth he'd known years ago.

"Oh, I forgot. How rude of me. You may as well know my name."

He crosses the distance, and offers a strong handshake to @gothamsaved.

"I'm Clark Kent. It's nice to meet you."

[gothamsaved]

"Alfred let me in," the floating Kryptonian admits in the vast space that is the Batcave, "after I got off my rounds." He's smirking, hiding something behind his back.

Blue eyes catch on the other's jaw.

"I have a present for you. Uh - Happy anniversary."

Kent reveals the plush Superman blanket, and he gives a soft smile as he advances, placing it around the other's shoulders.

"I love you. I figure you'd want to be warm down here. And when things are hopeless, it's like you got me."

` 𝐀 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝.

[ … ] He’s not at all surprised Al let him in.  In a lot of ways,  in ways that had been earned,  if he were being completely truthful   —   he’d come to view Clark as a son of sorts.  Not at all unlike how the Kents had stepped in to welcome Bruce into their home.  He rarely has much issue with it unless it interfered with a case he was fixating on,  or if it got in the way of his usual routine   —   but so far…  he’d been carefully mindful once things had been ironed out,  unveiled.

` ❝ At this point,  I may as well give you a key to the place. ❞

His tone ensures as usual,  the lack of clear distinction between him being serious in the comment or teasing.  Gaze drifting down to watch as he taps out the next few words.  While they’d been more or less an item,  a solid relationship for near a year now,  Bruce was admittedly…   poorly experienced in what steps to genuinely take in it.  How best to meet the other’s expectations,  meet his needs in the softened way he met him in…  even when reassured it was fine,  he still anxiously bristled when attention was brought to it,  the uncertainty of what to do driving him quietly mad.

Casual flings,  the past scandal of a teasing closeness meant to better bait the press into printing more gossip media   —   before Clark,  there hadn’t been  many he’d gotten to such a milestone with.  He was used to unserious,  meaningless connections.  Having the opposite was new territory.  They were far from normal,  their pacing for things,  how they had to bend   &&.  navigate the duality of both lives changing a vast amount more than the average couple did…  He wonders if it’d be out of line to just leave a key to the mansion somewhere for him to find,  or if he should ask one of these days…

To be quietly mindful or upfront   &&.  honest about his intentions,  what it all meant.

Pausing his typing when Clark continues,  watching as the man finally stops floating to gently land on the ground in a near soundless motion,  he steps in close,  prompting the Bat to turn from his work to better face the Kryptonian as he approached.  Brows pinching together,  lips slackening to something soft,  expectant,  as open as he can manage in the silence   —   he doesn’t expect the arms the other holds behind his back to shift,  holding over a brightly coloured blanket folded with such care as it’s held his way,  his breath catches at the sight of it.  A simple offering,  but somehow…  the one offering it his way ensured the attention paid was reverent,  quietly observing.

Large hands move,  strong fingers handling the fabric like a living child as he moves to open it up,  stepping in like he was approaching a skittish wild animal to gently drape it over Bruce’s shoulders.  Wordlessly,  the Bat shifts,  allowing the blanket to fall between his back   &&.  the chair,  covering him in the buttersoft but warm material.  Kent doesn’t remove his hands,  smoothing them along the roughened bend of Bruce’s armour plates,  the warmth of both his open palms   &&.  the gift permeating through to his tension-tangled muscles beneath.  It’s unfair how he relaxes beneath the other’s touch,  practically pliant in how he leans into it like a cat chasing a kind hand.

His own hand lifts,  slow in his hesitance as he rests it along Clarks,  giving it a firm squeeze as he swallows the suddenly budding wall of emotions building up in his throat.  At the final reasoning behind the admittedly thoughtful gift…  Bruce finally cracks,  the oddness,  welcomed,  cherished   —   he feels no different when he was a distant   &&.   bitter teen being charmed off his feet by the kind boy what felt like a separate lifetime ago.  His heart was so big sometimes   —   it’s a miracle it hadn’t shattered being put through so much,  had kept so strong all these years later.

Ducking his head,  there’s a strain in his voice,  the wavering nature of it unfamiliar to both men as Bruce tries to grit out his thanks,  his affection for the other as best he can.  He can’t.  No words come loose,  but the way his fingers weave their way between Kent’s own,  lightly pulling it from where it remained holding at his shoulder,  he guides it to his face.  Pressing a petal-softened kiss to Clark’s knuckles,  Bruce’s gaze is a freeflowing dam without his usual walls in place.

He may struggle to say it back just yet,  but the strong feelings he has for the other hero…  it’s reciprocated in full.

` [ ꗃ ] TRANSMISSION RECEIVED ˒﹚)