#// for the last time

[marqwaaa]

For the last time...

[nagasriel]

I think i cooked a lil bit help

[spectralzest]

I speed ran making this because I got the idea when I the "For the last time" animation meme on tiktok the lyrics reminded me of the neutral ending where alphys is implied to be dead and undyne is suuuuper depressed and blames herself for not being able to protect her. Um. (Runs away crying)

[livingund3ad]

[for the last time || в последний раз]

chapter warnings: n/a

01. | » you are here | 03. | 04. | 05. | ... |

From the eyes of [ Nightwing ]

Roughly 27 hours before the events of 01.

Dick Grayson was starting to regret picking Monopoly.

He should’ve known better. Monopoly with Tim was always a disaster. The guy approached board games the way he approached everything else in life—like some puzzle to be solved. And Damian? Damian treated it like war.

“Grayson, you are the most incompetent banker I have ever witnessed,” Damian snapped, his glare fierce and judgmental as he leaned over the board with his arms folded.

“Hey, I’m doing my best here, kiddo.” Dick grinned, lazily rolling the dice. “Just because I handed Tim Park Place doesn’t mean I’m incompetent. It just means I’m generous.”

“That’s not generosity, that’s stupidity,” Damian countered. “Which, considering it’s you, I suppose is one and the same.”

Tim snorted from where he was sprawled out on one of the patio chairs, his legs kicked over the armrest. They’d set the board up on the small glass table in the greenhouse—one of the few places on the estate that wasn’t constantly shrouded in Gotham’s nightly grimy chill. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a foggy view of the indoor pool on the other side, rippling in the faint glow of submerged lights.

For some reason, the greenhouse had unexpectedly become their hangout spot tonight. Maybe it was the warmth, or the earthy scent of Alfred’s perfectly-tended plants. Or maybe it was just that Dick hadn’t been able to tear himself away from Gotham long enough to make it back to Blüdhaven. Vigilante work called him back to the city almost every night. And somehow, coming back here to unwind was a pattern he’d fallen into without even noticing.

“You didn’t even bother counting the money right.” Damian jabbed a finger at the scattered bills in Dick’s hand. “Your laziness is impressive.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” Dick replied, flashing a grin before yawning mid-sentence. “Multitasking’s just…not on the top of that list.”

“If you were managing actual finances, you’d be bankrupt by now,” Damian shot back, disgust evident in his tone.

“Good thing I’m just a vigilante, then.”

“Tt. barely,” Damian muttered, eyes narrowed as he leaned back.

Dick ignored him, gaze flicking to the pool outside again. It was a reflex, something he didn’t even realize he was doing until the water’s stillness registered. The little doe wasn't swimming tonight. He wondered when was the last time he last saw her floating around the pool. Was it, a year or two ago? Regardless, it wasn’t uncommon for J*** to miss a night or two—life got busy, schedules clashed, even she couldn’t be expected to swim every single night. But... she rarely skipped, even as far back when he still lived in the manor full time. The pool was practically her sanctuary.

Or perhaps she'd simply outgrown the habit.

“Speaking of stupidity,” Damian said, tossing the dice down with enough force that one skittered off the table. “Why aren’t you including the girl in this asinine excuse for entertainment?”

Dick blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“J***,” Damian repeated, his tone exasperated. “She’s not swimming tonight, so if you’re intent on wasting time, she might as well be part of it.”

Dick frowned, his gaze drifting to the pool outside. Usually, there’d be ripples cutting through the water from J***’s lazy strokes, her midnight vroutine something as predictable as the Gotham chill. For as long as he could remember, J*** swam at night.

“She’s not out there?” Dick asked, feigning nonchalance.

“No.” Damian’s arms were folded again, his brow furrowed like he couldn’t believe Dick had the audacity to ask. “She wasn’t even there when I came in earlier before you found me. The water’s still.”

“Maybe she decided to skip tonight?” Tim suggested, not bothering to look up from his pile of fake money.

Damian huffed. “Unlikely. Her routines are as dull and stubborn as yours.”

“That sounds like projection,” Tim murmured.

“Shut up, Drake.”

“Well, since you’re so concerned about her,” Dick said with a smirk, shoving the dice into Damian’s hand, “why don’t you go get her? Maybe she’s holed up in her room. You know she’s impossible to drag out once she’s buried herself in some book or with whatever she's doing.”

Damian shot him a dark look but still stood, all sharp annoyance and begrudging obedience. “Fine. But if she talks my ear off for interrupting her, I’m blaming you.”

“That’s the spirit,” Dick called after him as Damian stalked off, muttering under his breath.

The room was quiet again, save for the hum of the lights and the faint rustle of leaves. Dick glanced over at Tim, who was busy trying to scheme his way into owning the entire row of red properties.

“She still swims at night, right?” Dick asked, more out of habit than curiosity.

“Yeah,” Tim replied without missing a beat. “Same old routine. Still spotting her with the surveillance from time to time. Midnight swim, cool-down stretches, then she usually crashes somewhere or back to her room with a book.” He raised a brow. “Why?”

Dick shrugged. “Just... I dunno. Thought she’d outgrow it eventually.”

“She likes it. So why stop?” Tim replied.

Dick chuckled. “True. Guess it’s just weird not seeing her out there, that’s all.”

He absently watched Tim’s fingers tap against the board, restless and precise. The kid couldn’t sit still to save his life. And maybe Dick couldn’t, either. Not when the nights in Gotham were endless and brutal, and sleep always felt just out of reach.

He let his gaze drift back to the pool, lost in thought.

J*** had never been to Blüdhaven. The realization came suddenly, like a stray punch he hadn’t braced for.

Back when he wasn't as busy when he first started as Nightwing and moved to Blüdhaven, they’d always talked about it, throwing the idea around in passing conversations. He’d promised her a tour, said she could swing by one weekend to catch a game or just hang out. But he’d kept putting it off, as he found himself drowned in patrols, cases, and everything else that came with a double life.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d properly hung out with her. Just the two of them, no missions or schedules getting in the way. Maybe it was about time he fixed that.

A day off. A real one. Blüdhaven wasn’t all crime and grime. Maybe she’d like a walk around the park, or some of the food spots he’d found.

When I’m free. The phrase hung in his mind, too easy to say and even easier to push aside. It felt like he was always promising things he never followed through on.

He shifted, rubbing the back of his neck. Yeah, he needed to do something about that.

Minutes later, Damian returned with a scowl etched into his face.

“Well?” Dick prompted.

“Her door was locked,” Damian snapped, as if the very concept offended him. “She’s probably already asleep.”

“Or avoiding you,” Tim chimed in, lips twitching.

Damian’s glare could’ve split concrete. “Then it seems that she's finally starting to grasp the message.”

“All right, all right, calm down, little demon,” Dick said, grabbing the dice again. “She’s probably just tired. It’s late.”

“Tired and intelligent enough to avoid both of you, obviously,” Damian muttered, dropping back into his seat with all the grace of a cat with ruffled fur.

They continued playing. Bickering over properties, fake deals, insults that had more fondness than venom.

Nothing seemed out of place.

Nothing at all.

[nesperus]

thank you, season 2

[muclunga]

That one tiktok trend but with Thaluke😔 I feel like they don’t get enough attention

[skyenish]

For the last time (В последний раз) | Scarabia animatic 🐍☀️

——

This song makes me feel so much, I love it a lot! It’s soothing, and makes me feel nostalgic for some reason. It gave me enough inspiration to pick up my pen again and draw something after a MONTH of not posting any animatics… Haha school amiright! Well, anyways, actual yapping time:

This song with them can be interpreted in many different ways, I do love me some vague open to interpretation pieces of art, so a lot can be said. With Jamil and Kalim too it’s the case that they’re so… similar. They’re incredibly different and yet so similar; two sides of the same coin, you might say. Almost anything can be applied to the both for them, and I find that so fascinating. The lines “I’m not waiting for you anymore, but know I loved you, for the last time” can be about both Jamil and Kalim. Jamil (before his character developemnt) for not wanting to wait anymore for Kalim to catch up, not wanting to hold back anymore, not wanting to devote his life to him, but lamenting the fact that once he did care so deeply about him, but no more. He won’t save him anymore, he’ll let Kalim drown, because it’s his own fault he never learned to swim, right? (Metaphorically, I know Kalim can swim!) Or alternatively, Kalim, who has to accept that if he truly wants equality between him and Jamil, he knows Jamil will want some distance between them (at least at first). And after the betrayal in book 4, he has to admit to himself that he did love Jamil, and that now their relationship is much, much more complicated. Or maybe it had always been this complicated but he just realized it now? And yet, when he says that he will love Jamil no more, is he honest to himself? Is he genuine?

Though this is once again a bit of a somber animatic, I want to also share my more optimistic takes on the Scarabia Duo! With book 4 part 9 releasing soon, I can’t wait for more people to read about their character development!! Both have such amazing content, and it really helped them grow as people and better understand eachother. Their relationship is taking slow steps towards becoming healthy again, to them finding out what they mean to eachother and what it means to be equal, to be friends, to love eachother. Their development is so amazing, it consumes my every waking thought!

[zombiedeers]

Thoughts on the potential sibling angst with Mel and Breadhead, anyone?

Breadhead's like- tfw you find out that your dad and sister have been lying to you your whole life about something so HUGE and also the fact your sister has been the exact person that you were raised to fear and even basically wish perma death on

Also yes, I did adjust the lyrics of For The Last Time a little bit for this to make it feel more fitting for them

Textless version below cut

[neerbear]

unfortunately, exams forced me to be late to this trend, but here I am regardless

[zelikan-weazel]

🔔for the last time🔔

Bro I lowke speed ran this anyways this’ll be up on tt to hopefully tho idk it’s being stubborn and removed it because of guide lines shi :p

[haastzre]

One of my brocedes drawing with this trend

[gloomingstar]

[livingund3ad]

[for the last time || в последний раз]

warnings: depictions of drowning, mentions of murder, suicide and death. read with discretion

» you are here | 02. | 03. | ... |

From the eyes of [ ? ]

Transcript of Gotham Gazette’s Breaking Report - July 26th, 20XX

4:12 AM:

A tip-off was received from an anonymous source regarding unusual activity at Gotham’s Westriver district. Police vehicles and ambulances were spotted converging near the secluded edges of Gotham River—an area notorious for its dense forestry and dark history.

4:45 AM:

Journalists began arriving at the scene, their vehicles halted by police barricades and vigilant security guards. Under the waning moonlight, the air was thick with dread, murmurs building as scattered information trickled down to the press like blood seeping from a fresh wound.

5:03 AM:

The first confirmation: It was a recovery mission. A body had been pulled from the lake.

Witnesses reported seeing Bruce Wayne himself, dripping wet, his clothes clinging to him like the weight of his own name. Beside him, Richard “Dick” Grayson, his adopted son, equally drenched and disheveled, his eyes wide and haunted.

The two had been escorted away from the lake by paramedics, refusing medical attention despite the chill in their bones. The urgency of their movements was eclipsed only by the sheer devastation etched into their faces.

5:18 AM:

Timothy Drake and Damian Wayne emerged from the thick of the woods. Neither of them bore the dampness of the lake but their expressions spoke of something far worse. Something hollow and undone.

Photographs capture Timothy hunched over his phone, his fingers shaking against the screen, his lips moving but producing no sound. Damian, the youngest of the Wayne family, wore a scowl so vicious and desperate. Belongings that appeared not his held tightly in his hands.

5:35 AM:

Paramedics wheeled a gurney draped in white cloth towards the ambulance. Flashes of cameras ignited the darkness, stuttering against the crisp material of the sheet. The body beneath was small. Fragile.

The public’s fixation shifted from the family to the figure hidden beneath the shroud. The rumors were relentless, each theory more grisly than the last. But the truth was far simpler. And perhaps far more tragic.

It was J*** “Doe” Wayne.

A name only whispered in tabloid columns and murmured through charity event speeches. Another ward of Bruce Wayne, adopted into the sprawling empire with little fanfare or spectacle. The papers had only touched upon her existence over the years—a young girl hidden from the public eye, shielded by the iron gates of Wayne Manor and the shadows of Gotham’s elite.

6:00 AM:

Questions splintered through the media like glass. What was she doing at the river in the middle of the night? Was it an accident? Foul play? A desperate attempt to escape the crushing weight of the Wayne legacy?

The officials refused to give statements, urging the press to maintain their distance. No confirmation. No denial. Just the lingering, oppressive silence of unanswered questions.

But the most damning piece of evidence came from the Waynes themselves.

Photographs circulated of Bruce Wayne’s face, pale and slack, eyes unfocused as he sat slumped on the hood of his car. Beside him, Dick Grayson, fists clenched at his sides, tears smudged into his cheeks like war paint.

For a family so used to presenting perfection to the public, their grief was painfully, brutally exposed.

6:45 AM:

The ambulance departed, sirens off. A grim omen. The kind reporters recognize all too well.

Rumors sparked like wildfire—J*** had drowned. But was it her own doing, or had someone pushed her? Had the burden of living under the Wayne name finally cracked her fragile frame, or was there something darker at play?

Theories were exchanged in frantic whispers, reporters scrambling to piece together fragments of truth from the ashes of tragedy.

7:30 AM:

Police issued a statement confirming the body belonged to J*** “Doe” Wayne. Age eighteen. Probable cause of Death—Asphyxiation by Submersion. No further details were provided.

Bruce Wayne and his sons were escorted away from the scene shortly after. Their silence a fortress built of agony and guilt.

Now, in the wake of her death, the public demands answers.

Was it murder? Suicide? An accident? Or something far more sinister lurking beneath Gotham’s glittering surface?

What had exactly happened to J*** “Doe” Wayne?

Authors note: Yes, it's a Yan! Batfam. Whodunnit. Erm there's a likely possibility that this will end up in the unfinished yan! batfam fics archive. I will attempt to write this I promise, cuz like I've been reading some Yan!Batfam fics and I haven't seen one yet that's been finished so why not write one that starts at the ending(?). Lol I'm just a dumbass who's a sucker for angst idk what's happening tbh. Also yes, I will be using she/her pronouns, and the reader darling is going to be called J*** or "Doe" in this cuz I have a reason for that. It's a secret for now. Or maybe you guys already do know from the theme I suck at being subtle.