#Gotham is like Silent Hill

[puppetmaster13u]

Back on my Gotham is DC's version of Silent Hill Au/Prompt thing. Just make sure to follow the Bats and Birds- don't trust the lanterns by the roads, those won't stay working for long.

[autism-connoisseur]

DONT EVER APOLOGIZE FOR INFODUMPING YOU NEED TO SPEAK YOUR TRUTH KING...........

[jasonsiceberglounge]

THE HILLS HAVE EYES pt. 3

warnings. cursing, descriptions of pain.

roughly a week of barely interacting with the tin can and i was starting to go insane. my limb still bruised as if something had tried to eat it, still unable to walk on my own. my less than talkative roommate made (im presuming stole due to the fluffy pink dolphin that was wrapped around the armrest of the crutch) me try to walk occasionally, the pain shooting unbearably through my nerves. i tried to bare the face of strength but even he hesitated at times to allow me to take another step.

the fresh sting of metal after being buried under blankets was a wake up call consistently. his palm clutching my bicep as i hobbled trying to take another step. i huffed in frustration, at the pitiful way my body moved. i felt like my wings had been clipped preemptively.

"you're doing fine." a mechanical whirr sighed, i couldn't tell his tone due to him using autotune 24/7 but this song was kind of nice. i winced, pity was the last thing i wanted from him.

"i don't need your sympathy robo-lante." he only cracked his neck in response, his words being bit back out of whatever feelings he may or may not have.

i could feel his peering eyes buried deep beneath wiring i couldnt even fathom comprised in that small space of helmet, wiring similar to my brain, similar to gotham. chaotic, he was so calm, but chaos exudes from his silence. i struggled to take another step attempting to distract myself from the excruciating sensation reaching my teeth.

"so-" i hobbled, his head tilted as if leaning closer to hear me. "why do you walk like you're trained, some secret government project i dont know about? any fun NDA's ya signed?" i tried to bite out a laugh, but the sound choked between the hiss of pain as he carried me into another step.

"the point of an NDA is to not speak about it." he said so matter of factly i almost wanted to smack him, unfortunately he's holding my dominant arm and also the only thing between me and splinters from this rotted wood floor.

i sighed, expecting an inch at the bare minimum, i was curious don't get me wrong, but in our line of work curiosity kills the bat.

he continued to hold me for a few more steps before i panted in agony, my throat tight from forgetting to breathe, i couldn't bare this anymore. "i'm fuckin' hopeless" i wanted to cry, scream, i cannot believe that stupid goon got me so good.

he seemed to deflate a bit at the admission, scooping his arm under my shoulders, he handled my weight towards the couch, back where i belong, back to the start.

his suit hissed as he sat down on the floor in front of me, legs at an awkward angle like he's not used to it. a comforting silence enveloped us, but he looked as if he had something to comment on, to leave with me.

my nose scrunched, i wasn't particularly comfortable with him analyzing me so gently. "if you have something to say, say it. i'm not in a generous mood tonight tin-can."

he seems to almost jolt in response, my tone not settling well. he hesitates, "i- well, fuck it... once was in your shoes, now i'm helping you walk in your own. it'll come to you. i once read a quote that said 'words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality,' i believe to an extent that only you can fix you if you want to, even if fixing isn't particularly what you want it to be, what someone else wants it to be." he trailed off almost harshly, recalling a memory, a direct antonym of fond. his mask turns slightly away from my gaze, i was amazed he said more than 4 words to me, none being sarcastic.

"thank you." i whispered, thanking him genuinely bringing me more pain than my leg. his foot swayed back and forth, almost like a nervous tic. he nods silently, slowly beginning to get up. a slight groan leaves his body as he stands. his hand reaches towards me, i snap and grab his wrist instinctively. maybe he was trying to kill me finally, maybe.

his mask angles almost in surprise.

"i was-" he says with a pitiful voice "jus' wanted to fix your blanket." more hoarse this time. my eyes widen slowly, i release my grip on his brace.

"i'm sorry i tho-" he turns to walk away, not with sass but genuine disappointment.

"don't worry about it, peg-leg." he trudges off into his room as i stare in genuine disbelief

'i just wanted to fix your blanket."

something struck within me, deep, unsettling. i felt sick to my stomach, the mere gesture of chivalry being something i haven't experienced since the loss of jason. i sunk deeper into the couch, leaving the blanket unmoved in hopes maybe he'd fix it later for me, at least i'll give him the chance this time.

his stupid fucking toenails kept scratching me, it was hot, stuffy, disgusting, and cute under this huge blanket. jason todd had the brilliant idea of reading some of bruce's files and believed that the world would never find out underneath the protection of this inhuman sized blanket.

a flashlight lodged into his mouth as the pages crinkled when he turned, i didn't necessarily care for the actual words, but something about being under this blanket with him, in private, brought heat to my entire body.

"this is about corruption in gotham pd." his lips attempted to say, however stopped by the obviously shoved in his mouth light emitter, jason forgot that key part. i watched his fingers slowly scan the papers, my mind drifting many places but the current one im in.

jason was a certified yapper, but only particularly around certain individuals. i liked to think he felt comfortable enough to allow me to ride his train of thought. i enjoyed traveling through gotham more that way.

"are you paying attention?" he snapped, a bright toothy smile on his face as the flashlight slipped out of his mouth, once again the idiot forgetting it was there in the first place.

i jumped at him shaking me out of my trance, i didn't particularly want to leave it. "sorry, i, fuck- no i wasn't listenin'." i sighed, looking off sheepishly.

he only frowned in response, flinging the blanket off of our faces, the brisk air smacking me immediately. the look on his face bringing the heat all the way back, tenfold.

"what is it?" he said softer, voice tainted with concern.

i stuttered, not ready for the sudden gentle tone.

"i'm jus thinkin'." not able to look him in the eye.

he scooted closer, curls coating his forehead so beautifully, "'bout what?"

i felt as if i were about to combust into flames.

"just things." i prayed god would end his curious streak before he found out what truly killed the bat.

"you thinkin' bout me doll?" he was injecting honey in my ears.

my eyes jolted widely, it's not a foreign nickname on his lips, just one he dangles above me with the same allure as a mistletoe.

it was not christmas but i felt like santa had given me another present. god gave me jason todd, but kris kringle gave me these little chocolate morsels of moments.

silence danced throughout the safehouse, not a peep escaped even the flooring. not that it made me uncomfortable, but the memories flooding my brain and the previous interaction with the arkham knight not quite allowing the dance to finish. something was bothering me, hell, everything was bothering me, including this god damn leg.

peering around the straw apartment again, i eyed my crutch. laid perfectly 5 feet away from me, next to the knight's door. he's left it there the past week so he can bring it to me every time we try to walk again, but now i'm cursing him for putting it so far away.

the gears in my brain began to turn, either i make it to his door to apologize without falling, and pray i don't pass out inbetween.

or i fall.

i've had worse odds before.

mustering as much strength as my shoulders can carry, i propel myself up on my left leg, the right shooting in pain at the tension in the thigh. tears well up in my eyes as i turn my way towards his door, i havent tried to walk alone yet but as he said. 'something something you have to fix yourself.'

yeah, i'm pretty damn sure the quote was exactly that.

my feet rub roughly against the wooden floor, slowly taking my first step. i grab my thigh in agony as the wound begins to pound, you'd think a week would alleviate some pain, but my god it felt like lava-hot irons were investigating my white blood cell count.

another step, and not for mankind.

the crutches slowly growing larger in my view, if only i could make it close enough to the door.

another step on my peg-leg, as we all figured, fucking awful.

another on the left.

at this point i was bawling my eyes out in pain, metal coating my lips as i bit down to drown out the screams behind my teeth.

2 feet from the door.

4 steps.

2 left, 2 right.

my vision, familiarly was clouding with black again. but i'll be damned if i dont apologize while i still have no pride.

one step on the right.

one step on the left. excruciating.

one more step on the right, the crutch coming into near reach. my left palm slams against the door unintentionally trying to balance myself before i collapsed. at this point sobs caked my shirt, my neck, my face. i figured i looked better than he did underneath that iron prison though.

i could hear shuffling from behind the door as it swung open, i lost my balance not expecting the sudden movement as he instinctively grabbed my arm holding me at an awkward teetering angle.

"what the fuck are you doing?!" anger coated all silence in the safe house. his chest rising and falling with concern.

"i just- i wanted to apologize." i bit out, the feeling of standing on one leg not enough to alleviate the pain.

"for what?! you dumb, dumb girl." he eased down my arm, allowing me to grab onto his forearm for balance. he dared not say anything else knowing my pride meter would fill up again soon, cup overfloweth.

"i didn't mean to make you go away. i was, i'm just scared."

he ponders for a moment before grabbing my arm rougher than before and yanking me closer to him, his other arm grabbing my left leg and pulling me up into some awkward form of a bridal hold. for once i am the one with few words to say as he brings me back to my place on the couch, setting me down gently, gentler than i think he's been with another human in a long time.

"can you stay still this time?" he pleads, a whine at the top of his tone. i nod quietly, a hiss sounds as he removes a glove, his hand littered with scars, deep, deep gashes.

he wanted me to trust him, this is as much as he can give. this is as much as i can take. the gesture screaming with unsaid, unkempt words. tangled, confused, just trust me. trust me. i will let you know a piece of me.

"will this suffice? will you let me at least let me trap you in this.. what did you call it? country bumpkin cloth?" he chuckled, a joke leaving the confines of the tension.

i didn't necessarily have a reply, all words had left me at the moment. what had transpired the last minute repeating itself over and over on a loop in my brain. heat rose to my ears as any quick response died in my heart.

"yes i'll stay put." i sighed out, defeat coming to me quickly.

he crouched down and slowly shoved the blanket around the length of my body, i hadn't been tucked in since mommy and daddy still cared about me. this was not the same feeling.

his hand inched near my face, hesitating, but wiping a tear off my ear, rubbing the tear inbetween his thumb and index finger.

he stood back up and all i could do is watch, any words i may have been able to line up in some formula to elicit a response died within the first proof.

"stay put, get some sleep." he sighed, staring at me for a moment to make sure i really didn't move. the sound of his boots heavy as he disappeared back into his room, flicking the lights off. my heart beating out of my chest into my throat as my body could not handle what just transpired.

as much as i thought i could face anything the world threw at me, i felt transported back to his grave once again. speechless, confused, breathless.

i am not dorothy on a yellow brick road, and he was not the tin-man leading himself to find a heart again.

[ihateedwardnygma]

cass ♱ they / she ♱ seventeen ♱ white

⭑ gotham sideblog, but i like a lot of things- listed in carrd. primarily hyperfixated on gotham and silent hill rn- feel free to dm me abt either!!

⭑ looking for mutuals :)) likes and rbs appreciated

⭑ formerly known as freezerdoe.. changed url

⭑ #1 edward nygma anti, #1 edward nygma fan

carrd below the cut.

freezerdoe.carrd.co

[paladin-of-nerd-fandom65]

Dick Grayson In Silent Hill, how do you think it goes down?

Like say our favorite Boy Wonder, after a rather bad verbal fight with Bruce and leaving both Gotham and Bludhaven to get away from his crime fighting life to seek some solace, ends up stalling his car in the middle of the titular town in Northeastern Maine during a particularly rough snowstorm. Then am upon arriving and most of if not all his comms getting cut off here’s from locals about missing people caught in said snowstorm, decides to venture into town in civilian mode to do a small rescue operation.

Can you predict a whole bevy of original monsters and demonic abominations arising from Dick’s numerous self doubt and perfectionist issues and other personal psychological problems being key obstacles in his adventure?

[ru-draws]

What A Steal | Guardian | Playmate?

—

It’s Gotham, right. It’s hard, it’s unforgiving, it’s constantly warring for its soul between the Bat, the Rogues and political/capitalist monsters. They’ve survived big bads with bombs and bio-chemical weapons, constant terrorism, alien invasions, unfeeling corrupt officials, THE earthquake—Gothamites are wild. And they come together more often than not, protecting their own while the world outside turn fearful and judgemental eyes on their dark spires and unending rain. They put their trust in a prolific monster that puts himself between them and everything else because no one else will ever love them as much as he and his team does.

I think a lot about art that comes out of Gotham. The kind of affluent pretentious crap that gets bought by Mayor Hill or tycoons from Metropolis. The small popular studios that have small but powerful exhibitions of little known artists that reflect light and life in the corners of their city.

And I think about the graffiti. The illegal tagging, defacement of the Bowery stretching from corner to corner, the paint-covered walls of Crime Alley where the brick can barely be seen anymore. I think about the kind of artist Gotham would grow in that medium.

Not Banksy. Banksy adjacent, maybe.

Someone who’s survived the worst of Gotham and loves the concrete under their feet. Someone so removed from all the Waynes and the Vreelands and the Hills of the City; someone who grew up in the shadows of gargoyled buildings and in the arms of people who work to keep the city alive. Silent, anonymous, as enigmatic as Gotham’s protector. Plastering their opinions all over Gotham’s First National and beneath bridges between the islands. And I think there’s more than one. A small handful, never planning, never speaking, but passing quietly in the night with cans of spray paint and ladders.

The GCPD get calls about them from time to time, and their latest illegal work marring buildings in uptown. But it’s Gotham. Gordon and the Bat have bigger things to worry about with little time to spare. When it comes between an armed robbery or a tagger, one of these things is not like the other.

But I do think the Bat looks. Every so often, he’ll turn in an alley or a subway, and there it’ll be. And he’ll stand, for a breath of contemplation, and then he’ll disappear back into the night.

[clementine-side-blog]

Edward Nashton Headcanons (SFW)

Summary: My personal headcanons for Edward Nashton. Again, these are MY personal headcanons and I use them for when I write about him. So, yeah. I can't believe I'm just now writing headcanons for this guy. This is long overdue.

(Read Below For Headcanons)

Personality:

I fully believe that he has autism, like you cannot change my mind. Plus, it's canon that the Riddler has autism! In my opinion, he has the "I'm a genius" autism, but also the "watching documentaries about WWII at 2 AM" kind of autism as well.

Overall, he's a pretty reserved guy. It takes a while for him to come out of his shell. He's shy, timid, nerdy, and a little awkward. He does NOT know how to talk to people, especially people he finds attractive.

Once you get to know him though, and become friends, he's a very friendly man. He's super caring, a good listener, and has a great sense of humor.

He's a fucking super genius. It's canon in the DC Universe that his IQ is 190. This man is so fucking smart and he basically knows everything about everything.

When he has a crush on someone (obviously you), he CANNOT get them out of his head. He quite literally becomes obsessed and, might I add, a bit possessive.

He has trauma from living at the orphanage. The reason this goes under the "personality" category, is because it shaped who he was as a person. Let me explain...

Egotistical/Arrogant: Edward was a very bright kid, but no one ever recognized him for it. Because of this, he grew up to think highly of himself, as no one else did. Edward thinks, no, he knows that he's the smartest man in Gotham. This can lead to him making others feel small/dumb, but it's never his intention.

Protective: Since he never felt protected or loved growing up, he strives to make his partner feel like that. He wants to shower them with the love, affection, and praise that he never got. As your boyfriend, and best friend, he wants nothing more than to love you unconditionally. This also means that he spoils you SO MUCH, like so fucking much.

Hobbies:

Obviously, the number one is solving puzzles. Riddles, crosswords, sudokus, etc. If it's a puzzle, he'll solve it.

When he's bored, or if he's just relaxing (like watching a movie), he'll sometimes play with a Rubik's cube. His fastest record for solving a Rubik's cube was around 6 seconds.

He loves reading. As a kid, that was basically all he did. He reads basically every genre (barely any romance though). Edward loves to go to a bookstore, or Barnes & Noble, and just hang out.

Surprisingly, he's a very good cook. He always makes really good food, and sometimes uses some herbs/spices that he grows out on the fire escape outside his living room window.

He's a Twitch streamer! Can't change my mind about that. He's got a cool setup in his bedroom that is decorated very nicely. He'll watch documentaries, true crime stuff, play video games, etc. Since he's a forensic accountant (and had to learn about forensics in general), he'll explain and go into depth about certain things in crime. It's actually very educational, but he makes it fun as well!

Bro LOVES video games. He plays basically all of them. He loves Resident Evil games, Silent Hill, Horizon Zero Dawn, Minecraft (he has tried to build all of Gotham in minecraft), Fallout, Half-Life, Outlast, and basically any other shit you can think of.

His music taste consists of basically everything except country music. He LOVES metal/rock music. Here are some of his favorite bands...

Weezer; ICP; Green Day; blink-182, Gorillaz; Slipknot; Korn; I Monster; Megadeth; System Of A Down; Nirvana; Radiohead; and Foo Fighters. He also likes classical music and operas.

Random:

In the orphanage, he read lots of books, and some of those were about different languages. He basically taught himself...like...a bunch of different languages just for fun. A few of his favorite languages to learn were French, Spanish, and even Korean. He also knows a handful of Latin, though it's not really a language people speak anymore. He just likes to brag about how he knows Latin and most people don't, lol.

He likes his apartment and everything he owns to be clean, and sometimes he'll get random bursts of energy and deep clean his entire apartment.

He has a diary :)

Favorite color is green, obviously, but purple is a close second.

He has sensory issues. He hates the feeling of fleece especially.

Edward is queer. It's that simple. He doesn't like a specific gender, he doesn't dislike a specific gender, he just likes who he likes! :)

One of his favorite shows ever is Breaking Bad.

One of his favorite movies ever is American Psycho. He read the book too. Edward knows that it's a satire, don't worry, he doesn't relate to Patrick Bateman at all. He just thinks the movie is funny and loves how it shows how ridiculous "metrosexual" men are.

He can do a great impression of Patrick Bateman, including the facial expressions.

He also loves Fight Club, because cmon its a classic and its so fucking good. Also, he thinks Brad Pitt is hot in the movie...

Knows how to play guitar very well!

His hair is a little shaggy (imagine young Paul Dano, like when he was 20ish)

[lilblueprint]

Anti-Hero

I’ll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting, always rooting for the anti-hero

At the end of the day, you are the one who saves him. Or, Jason gets the thirties blues and you take a hit, too.

Been a long time coming. I left a lot more to implication than I'd planned, but I hope you all enjoy this last Midnights piece nevertheless.

Tinnitus was screaming in his ears and his face was burning with heat from the previous explosion. He waited for the sound to fade out before springing at the remaining enemy. They went down in heaps of ash, and Jason sagged in relief. The smoke was clearing, but alarm bells were still going off in his head. Something wasn’t right.

Collapsing against the closest support beam, he tapped into his comms. 

“Hey, O. Can you hear me?”

The device crackled for a bit, then:

“I hear you, Red Hood. What do you need?”

“...who’s closest to my location?”

“--Red Robin is in the area.”

“Got it. Can you ask him to clean up here? I–”

His hand fell from his ear as his knees gave out. 

Jason hit the warehouse floor with a thud. He hoped the building didn’t burn down with him still in it.

“--Red Hood? Red Hood–”

.

.

.

“--Jason!”

It took a few tries for him to comfortably keep his eyes open. When his lashes finally settled, you came into clarity, leaning over him like an angel sent to collect him. 

“Am I still in one piece?” He groaned, forcing a smile onto his face. 

You glared at him with tears in your eyes. Ever so beautiful.

“Yes, you dumbass.”

He wrapped you into his bandaged arms, and you held onto him tightly as his wounds would allow.

-

Gotham’s sunsets were… strange. As far as Jason could remember, the light had always felt wrong when it washed over the city. Like it didn’t belong there.  

Maybe because I don’t belong here.

The manor was glowing on the hill to his right. To his left, shadows bounced far and wide as the light fluctuated between buildings. He kept his senses alert for fear of what he would see in the streets–Oracle had briefed them on a possible Arkham breakout tonight. 

Not him. He was on bedrest, or supposed to be. 

“Thought I’d find you out and about,” your voice called out. Groaning, he turned around with his hands up in mock surrender. 

“You caught me, sweetheart.”

“You won’t hear the end of it from Alfred,” you teased. “Not that I’m any happier about you sneaking out when you’re supposed to be resting.”

He averted his gaze as your eyes fixed on him. 

“I just wanted some air,” he mumbled, turning back to the rooftops. You padded over to him, grit crunching beneath your sneakers. Your hand slipped into his, and he squeezed it gratefully. He didn’t have to look at your eyes to know they’d softened, that they were testing his waters. 

He didn’t stop you from diving in. He never could. 

“What’s eating you, Jay?”

“...I don’t know.”

You waited for him, slowly drifting the two of you to a corner so you could perch on the roof ledge. When you swung yourself up, panic momentarily spiked in him as he saw you lean back. His hands twitched towards you instinctively, his entirety gravitating to you in order to make sure you didn’t fall. If you noticed, you didn’t mention it. 

“Talk to me,” you whispered, brushing your fingers lovingly along his cheekbone. He chased after your hands, leaning into your touch like it could heal him, him and all his mistakes. 

“I feel blue,” he admitted. 

“Blue?”

“Blue,” he agreed. “I don’t understand what it is.”

The two of you stayed silent for a while. You rocked gently on the ledge while Jason was slotted between your legs, head resting on your thigh. His hand gripped yours tightly, silently pleading with you to anchor him to your shores. 

“Do you think maybe it’s the holidays? Y’know, seasonal depression or something?”

“Or something,” he muttered. Another quiet minute passed before you made a move. You leaned down, snaking your arms about his waist. Your hands traveled further and further along his torso before quickly slipping into his jacket’s inner seam. “Y’know,” Jason smirked, reaching down to grab your wrists, “if you wanted to grope me you could’ve just–”

“Found them,” you announced, producing a pack of cigs from the leather folds. 

Jason’s jaw went slack. 

“...how long have you known about those?”

“About a year now,” you said, biting the broken edge of your nail clean off. Wait, did that turn him on? 

You gently loosened yourself from his grip, standing up and gesturing for him to do the same. When he towered a good foot above you, you reached into his outer pocket and pulled out a lighter. Laughing at his flabbergasted look, you turned to give the flint wheel a little jolt. 

The rosy golden hue of the sunset was suddenly cupped in your hands, hazy darkness had descended upon Gotham like a blanket of snow. Jason was drawn to the light as you blew experimentally on the flame to make it sway, flickering across your palm. 

“You catch on quick,” you commented, looking at the open pack of cigs. He was hesitant to put one between his fingers, you hadn’t liked smokers since your Bowery days. But here you were now, smiling wryly at him like it was no big deal. 

He chanced a crooked grin as he tucked the cig between his lips. Ignoring the open flame just inches from his face, he nudged his way into your space. Rough hands took up their place on your waist, your arm rested across his shoulders, and he was so close. 

“Help a guy out here, darling.”

“My pleasure,” you replied smoothly, holding the lighter up between the two of you. Angling your face to avoid the first wisps of burnt black smoke, you set fire to the end of the stick. 

Two pairs of eyes watched the cig smolder. Jason readjusted you so that you were tucked into his side. When your head fell onto his shoulder, he released the first lungful. It clouded your eyes as you watched its course. 

“Hey, Jay.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s good to have you here.”

He didn’t reply, but you knew he knew. 

It’s good to be back, doll. 

[puppetmaster13u]

I am pondering cryptid batfam but like. Eldritch. Starts out human but Gotham (or something Else) slowly changes them over the years as they search for an learn unspeakable information, as their minds expand more than a mere human could.

Pretty much becomes not exactly city spirits but Aspects of sorts if I am making any sense. And usually people can tell something is... sort of off, but it's easily dismissible, like a cold spot in a room that you can ignore if you aren't standing in it.

I honestly might draw the ideas for designs I have but idk.

[necros-writing-stuff]

18+ blog, Minors trundle along.

Warnings: We're going through Jaybirds's life with this one lads, so domestic abuse, neglect, parentification (only hinted), addiction, his death, Pit symptoms. Tis an angsty post about Jason, his parental figures, and their reflections in him.

Thinking about Jason Todd once more.

Thinking about him staring into the mirror during all of those lonely months he travelled the world, meeting trainers, killing trainers, becoming the Red Hood. The touch he's become accustomed to is red, bringing a searing heat. It is purple, black and blue, blossoming in pulsing blotches across his flesh - transporting him right back to nine years old and alone on the streets of Gotham.

Every admonishment, every shriek, now that takes him further back. Willis had never laid a hand on him, but rare nights, still nights without rain or wind would still leave young Jason's mind rattling in the storm as he hid beneath his bed or a table to avoid being used as a reason to escalate his parent's wrath and resentment. With his dog. With his loyal, precious dog.

Every street runt he sees now is just another reflection, isn't it? Sapien or canine.

For two years he had the safety of home. Two years inside that manse, with measured English tones and a gruff guiding voice that had barely a trace of its New Jersey routes. The smoke took it away. The flames, the impact, the rubble, the crowbar, the clown. His world is red, but he sees green.

On those journeys he takes, Jason looks into the mirror and sees a rock tumbling down a steep hill, one clattering bounce away from hitting the right spot and causing an avalanche of grit and gravel to bury his pain at the root of the incline. He sees a weapon, honed and precise. A failure, discarded a fourth time, now. Willis. Sheila. Talia. Bruce. He sees a chosen one, ressurected by powers no one can even begin to understand - given one more chance to be what he needs to be.

What he needs. No one else. Just him.

As stringboards and mental maps weave into what a casual looker can only observe as madness, he knows what hero he would have needed back then. He knows, as he collects his weapons and meticulously builds his repertoire, how he's going to protect the kids who need the same.

He's already killing his instructors when he's done. He can pull the trigger as many times as he needs to to clean up Gotham.

The scars, the height, the white streak, the muscle. Right now Jason should look into that mirror and not recognise a thing. But it's quite the opposite. He's never felt so right in his life.

Years later, in a loft apartment hidden in the twisting streets of Crime Alley, Jason Todd looks at his reflection again. He really looks. The nose, that's all Willis. Is his temper Willis' too? Is it the Pit? Where does he stop and the Pit begin?

His lips are Sheila's. He doesn't like seeing himself smirk, doesn't like remembering her doing so when she handed him off, with a cigarette hanging loosely from those lips.

The sterness of his expression - the way his eyebrows turn? It's Bruce. Fuck him, but it's Bruce, the result of many long nights side by side in front of the Batcomputer. Even in those brief two years, the asshole found a way to stamp "I AM YOUR FATHER," across Jason's forehead, and consistently tries to rebuild that relationship with hopeful looks that mean an invite to dinner. A hopefulness that, even with Jason's happy trigger finger, they'll work it out. Jason still doesn't know if he'll ever take it.

He really did think that he'd been with Talia too fleetly to pick anything up. Until last week. Until a case with the pack brat had him twirling a blade in his hands, flinging it to pin instead of maim, and Damian's head had tilted with a wondrous "Mother," silently muttered before a boot almost connected with his head. Almost. Little shit can really move when he needs to.

Even Alfred's sass still sneaks into his quips. More so now that he's having tea with the old man on a regular basis. But mostly, he finds his grandfather in the kitchen, knowing his recipes by heart, feeding himself well unlike a certain Dick he knows.

He can't find her. He can't find his mother. He can't find his Catherine. Jason has looked and looked, in every expression on his face and saying that leaves his lips. She isn't in his fashion, her choices for him would have been so different if she were here to pick out a shirt from the store. Her meals were all processed oven crap, all that they could really afford, and Jason hasn't cooked like that since Alfred taught him his first recipe.

And he doesn't find her, not until a still Gotham night with a young boy hiding in a large box in an alley, stray dog by his side. A man, reeking of cheap vodka and unable to stay upright is trying to get at that boy, trying to get around the Red Hood on uneven steps as he screams bloody murder for the boy to return. There's a shard of glass clenched in his hand. He's bleeding, but he's so drunk he can't even feel the wound.

This man won't get past the Red Hood. This man won't get past Jason Todd, not even this close to dawn when Jason has a broken rib that makes his stomach lurch with every breath and that damned green is painting everything so deeply it makes his head spin.

This man is going to go to sleep in that alley. Sadly, he'll wake up. Because Jason won't drip more red into this scared boys life - he won't risk leaving him with the terrible thought that the death would be his fault.

Maybe, once he's taken the boy somewhere safe, with the other street kids that know how to call the Red Hood for help; maybe, when he's limping out of Leslie's with his ribs bound, he'll circle back and finish the job.

Maybe, this is what Catherine thought every time she stood between him and Willis. Even when withdrawl made her sicker than the cancer, or the high had her confused as to where she really was, she stood there. She found the strength, where usually she had none.

A puddle made earlier in the night reflects his body as it twists with the punch he throws. He's tall, heavy muscle corded into a dangerous animal. A weapon. A protector. He's exactly the hero he needed when he was small. The hero he had.

[soulmatebracket]

Hi ! Could you post a list of who has been submitted so far ? (With the number of submissions for each if possible)

If that's too much work i completely understand and humbly request to know if more that one person (aka me) have submitted Obi-Wan and Anakin

[Disclaimer‼️ Just because a pairing has three or two votes does not mean that they are automatically going into the bracket. Pairings with 1 vote might also make it in if I like them enough. We will not be starting arguments over if they should or should not have made it in.]

Totalling at 235 submissions so far!

Will be in the bracket:

Usagi Tsukino & Mamoru Chiba, Sailor Moon, IIIII (prelims)

Sailor Senji, Sailor Moon, III (prelims)

Link & Zelda, The Legend of Zelda, IIIIIIIII (prelims)

Link & Zelda & Ganandorf, The Legend of Zelda, IIIII (prelims)

Link & Fi, The Legend of Zelda, I (prelims/bc i like this ones)

Inuyasha & Kagome Higurashi, Inuyasha, IIII

Aziraphale & Crowley, Good Omens, IIIIIII

That Guy and Their Cat, Real Life, IIIII

Homura & Madoka, Puella Magi Madoka Magica, IIII

Eleanor Shelstroph & Chidi Anagone, The Good Place, IIIIII

Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk, Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint, IIIII

Captain Kirk & Mister Spock, Star Trek, IIII

Naruto Uzumaki & Sasuke Uchiha, Naruto, IIII

Grian & Scar, The Life Series, IIIIII

Submission Box

Three Votes:

Breekon & Hope, The Magnus Archives

The Doctor & The Master, Doctor Who

Xie Lian & Hua Cheng, Heavens Official’s Blessing

Hawkman & Hawkwoman, DC Comics

Doctor Doofenshmirtz & Perry the Platypus

Meliodas & Elizabeth, Seven Deadly Sins

Ash & Pikachu, Pokemon Anime

Two Votes:

Sakura & Syaoran, Cardcaptor Sakura

Wei Wuxain & Lan Wangji, Mo Dao Su Shi, II

Utena & Anthy, Revolutionary Girl Utena

Judai Yuki & Yubel, Yugioh X

FitzChivalry Farseer & Beloved/the Fool, Realm of the Elderlings

Yusuf “Joe” Al Kaysani & Nicolo “Nicky” Di Genova, The Old Guard

Finn the Human & Jake the Dog, Adventure Time

Sakura & Syaoran Li, Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles

Eiji Hino & Ankh, Kamen Rider OOO

Gon Freecss & Killua Zoldyck, Hunter x Hunter

The Entire Cast of Phineas and Ferb, Phineas and Ferb

Harrowhark Nonagesimus & Gideon Nav, The Locked Tomb

Daniel & Luce. Fallen

Gilgamesh & Enkidu, The Epic of Gilgamesh

Kaidan Alenko & Commander Shepard, Mass Effect

Raleigh Becket & Mako Mori, Pacific Rim

Adrien Agreste & Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Miraculous Ladybug

Bebop & Rocksteady, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Katarina Claes & Sophia Ascart, My Next Life as a Villainess

One Vote:

Mieczyslaw Stilinki & Lydia Martin, Teen Wolf

Spiderman & Deadpool, Marvel Comics

Beavis & Butthead, Beavis and Butthead

Obanai Iguro & Mitsuri Kanroji, Demon Slayer

Emma/Melinda & Dimitri/Edred, Unicorn: Warriors Eternal

Dean & Pharm, Until We Meet Again

Kaiou Michiru & Tenou Haruka, Sailor Moon

Zunzite & Zoisite, Sailor Moon

Phoenix Wright & Miles Edgeworth, Ace Attorney

Witch of Delays & Cure Oasis, Tropical Rouge Pecure

John Doe & Arthur Lester, Malevolent

Hani & Hinino Yamato, Hiraeth: The End of the Journey

Dream /Morpheus & Hob Gadling, The Sandman

Adachi & Shimamura, Adachi and Shimamura

Edward Nygma & Oswald Cobblepot, Gotham (2014)

Zelda & Ganondorf, The Legend of Zelda

Reginald Copperbottom & Right Hand Man, The Henry Stickmin Collection

Henry Stickmin & Ellie Rose, The Henry Stickmin Collection

Jonny D’Ville & Gunpowder Tim, Mechanisms

Merlin & Arthur, Merlin

Vash & Knives, Trigun

Siren & Kappa, Castle Swimmers

Ruby & Sapphire, Steven Universe

Om Kapoor & Shanti Priya, Om Shanti Om

Solane & Sym, I Was Teenage Exocolonist

Will Herondale & Tessa Gray & Jem Carstairs, The Shadowhunter Chronicles

Agent 3 & Agent 8, Splatoon 2

James Sunderland & Maria, Silent Hill 2

Macaque & Sun Wukong, Lego Monkey Kid

Tang Sanzang (reincarnated as Tang), Shah Wujing (reincarnated as Sandy), Zhu Bajie (reincarnated as Pigsy), Ao Lie (ancestor of Mei), and Sun Wukong (ancestor of MK), Lego Monkey Kid, Journey To The West

Nadja & Gregor, What We Do In The Shadows

Catherine Foster & The Ghost, Archivist Wasp

Kaworu Nagisa and Shinji Ikari, Neon Genesis Evangelion

Kiryu Kazuma & Majima Goro, Yakuza / Ryu Ga Gotoku

Red & Blue, This is How You Lose the Time War

Church & Tex, Red vs Blue

Rand al'Thor and Ishamael/Moridin, Wheel of Time

Birgitte Silverbow and Gaidal Cain, Wheel of Time

Beryl and Sapphire, Beryl and Sapphire

Kiana Kaslana & Raiden Mei, Honkai Impact 3rd

Banjo & Sento, Kamen Rider Build

Orpheus & Eurydice, Greek Mythology

Odysseus & Penelope, Greek Mythology

Emet Selch & Hythlodaeus & Azem, Final Fantasy XIV

Yona & the Four Dragons (Ki-ja, Shin-ah, Jae-ha and Zeno), Akatsuki no Yona

Akane Kurashiki & Junpei, Zero Escape

Ryo Asuka & Akira Fudo, Devilman

Zagreus & Megaera & Thanatos, Hades

Megatron & Optimus Prime, Transformers

Emma Swall & Killian Jones, Once Upon A Time

Rumplestiltskin & Belle, Once Upon A Time, I Snow White & Prince Charming, Once Upon A Time

Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson

Buttercup & Westley, The Princess Bride

Orchid & the Moon Supreme, Love Between Fairy and Devil

Blake Belladonna & Yang Xiao Long, RWBY

Ozma & Reincarnations, RWBY

Raava/The Avatar Spirit & Wan/The Avatar, Avatar: The Last Airbender

Johnny Silverhand & Vee, Cyberpunk 2077

Newt & The Brain/Alice, Pacific Rim

Dr. Strange & Dr. Christine Palmer, Marvel Comics

Bill & Ted, Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure

Lucifer & God, Abrahamic Religions

David and Jonathan, The Bible

Mickey Mouse & Minnie Mouse, Disney

Cinderella & Prince Charming, Disney

Dean WInchester & Castiel, Supernatural

Essek Theylss & Caleb Widogast, Critical Role

Lup Taako & Barold "Barry" Bluejeans, The Adventure Zone

Taako & Magnus Burnsides & Merle Highchurch, The Adventure Zone

Steve Rogers & James “Bucky” Barnes, Captain America Films

Mane 6, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic

Raven & Lloyd Allen, Shaperaverse

Nijigasaki High School Idol Club, Love Live Nijigasaki High School Idol Club

Shinichi Kudo & Ran Mouri, Detective Conan

Kusuriuri & Kayo/Chiyo Nomoto, Mononoke

Shun Shimotsuki & Hajime Mutsuki, Tsukiuta

Nanami Momozono & Tomoe, Kamisama Kiss

Red & The Boxer, Transistor

Yvaine & Tristan, Stardust

Jayfeather & Half Moon, Warrior Cats

Time & Fate, The Starless Sea

Sappo, Fragment 147

Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Star Wars

Ichabod Crane & Abbie Mills, Sleepy Hollow

Aragon & Arewn, The Lord of the Rings

Will Turner & Elizabeth Swan, Pirates of the Caribbean

Tom & Jerry, Tom & Jerry

Bugs Bunny & Daffy Duck, Looney Toons

Batman & The Joker, DC Comics

Akira Kurusu/Joker & Akechi Goro, Persona 5

Mytho & Ahiru, Princess Tutu

Dazai Osamu & Chuuya Nakahara, Bungo Stray Dogs

Koh & Canalo, Ryusoulger

Gai & Juggler, Ultraman Orb

Sonoi & Momou, Donbrothers

Haruka & Saruhara, Donbrothers

The Scooby Doo Gang, Scooby Doo

[calvincell]

Kunitsu-Gami seems to be exactly the type of action game out of the mainstream gaming industry I’ve been eager for lately. A Shinto-influenced Mythological Fantasy setting that steps away from straight up and down western medieval fantasy, one part plate-spinning Tower Defense + one part flashy character action, and an Original IP not locked to the current obsession with live service elements or always online requirements which gaming execs have drooled over the past near decade. Shot up to the top of my wishlist after the Gameplay Overview Trailer:

In many ways, like Hi-Fi Rush before it, it injects a similar bit of hope in me for at least a part of the AAA gaming industry that has been sapped away through tripe like Kill The Justice League, Marvel Avengers, Starfield, Gotham Knights, AC Valhalla, Skull & Bones, Silent Hill Ascension etc. I’ve got nothing but kudos to grant Capcom for both this & Dragon’s Dogma 2!

[scaryscarecrows]

My Feet Have Led Me Straight Into My Grave

AN: ‘Roots and Leaves’. Title from Paper Route’s ‘Glass Heart Hymn’.

* * *

Gotham being Gotham, it takes a lot to stick out. You have to work at it.  So Dove, in the middle of a conversation with what she privately suspects is the Missing Link, good God, engage your brain, sir, doesn't clock the weirdo on Sunshine. Not until he very nearly runs into her and she has to hop aside.

Instinct says to cuss him out. Instinct gets slapped down when she sees who it is.

The brand is hard to miss and impossible to mistake. Once she sees that, she sees the rest of him; mud, plant bits, bugs, a blank expression that says he's running on autopilot. Fear toxin? Concussion?

“I'll call you back,” she says, hangs up before the Link can argue. “Kiddo. Kid, what the hell?”

He doesn't seem to register her until she gets a good grip on his arm, and then he flinches and shudders back to reality, eyes wide and spooked.

“No–”

She yanks her hand back before he can panic further. He doesn't bolt, but he looks about to.

“Hey, hon, what's goin' on?” Something, clearly, and fuck, if they've got a new crazy running around...the Gravedigger or something stupid... “You okay?”

Stupid question. He doesn't answer it, either, and right about now Dove remembers that Crane is out of Arkham. Last she heard, he’d holed up in the Narrows, which is across town, but…

“You didn't run into Scarecrow, did you?”

Silence, but he shakes his head, slow and unsure. They'll table that for now.

“C'mon, you're gonna get hit by a bus.” He doesn't move and she nervously gives his sleeve a quick, firm tug. “Hood.”

He follows her, shuffly and slow, but sticking close enough for her to make sure she doesn't lose him in the crowds. Christ...what's going on around here? He's not--he's unarmed, helmet nowhere in sight. He honestly just looks like a normal person that got caught in the crossfire; jeans, jacket, t-shirt.

Fucking Batman...fucking bullshit…

Hood's dead silent for the walk, save for his gasping breaths. Something bad happened, it must have, this isn't like him. And what's with all the yard shit? It's almost like he fell down a hill, but…

“Okay,” she tells him, once they're in her apartment with the door locked, “stay here. Just a second, okay?”

He doesn't answer, but he doesn't run, and she figures he'll be fine while she drops her purse and gets the lights on and all that.

Okay...she'll try her best to get him cleaned up, but not with her good white towels, with the dark blue ones that hide stains. Get the bathroom rug outta the way...glass of water, just in case...there. All set.

He's hasn't budged since she left him, but a little nudge has him moving again, arms held close to his sides and shoulders hunched like he's trying to shrink. That ship, Dove thinks wryly, has sailed.

It had been, really, a relief, to find that out. Robin had been small, small, small. Joker was a tall man, deceptively strong, and he would have been able to pick the kid up. Hood's nearly unrecognizable now, but the one of the first things Dove had thought, in a fit of shock and I thought you were dead, had been, let's see you fuckers hurt him now.

“Here we go, just siddown and we'll--Jesus Christ.”

Now, in stark lighting, the mud and bugs and leaves make sense. Hood's hands are filled with splinters, cheap wooden shards that jut out in all directions. Several nails have been ripped off and his clothes are dirty and torn.

Someone tried to bury him.

Dear God.

“Okay, hon, just... just don't move and we'll get these out, okay? Just stay still.”

He doesn't so much as wince when she starts removing the splinters, even though several of them go deep between his knuckles and Dove is well aware of how painful missing fingernails are.

She's maybe halfway done with his right hand when he pulls away, tumbles off the toilet to his knees and shoves the lid up. Before she can do anything, he's retching, body heaving as he spits up...grime. Gritty brown bile with bits in it.

Comfort him? Don't touch him?

Water. She brought that water glass in, now's the time for that.

He finally stills and silences, slumped over the bowl and gasping for air. His hands are bleeding where they're gripping the sides, red trickles drying against the porcelain, and she hesitantly reaches over him to hit the flusher.

“Rinse your mouth out,” she says, moving the glass towards his lips. “C'mon, that shit can't stay there.”

That takes three or four rounds and a refill at the bathroom sink, but finally he collapses against the bathroom wall, eyes half-shut. When he stays there, Dove runs a corner of a towel under the water and scrubs it carefully across his face before rubbing it over his hair, dislodging more dirt and plants and a couple of bug parts.

Jesus. Jesus Christ, what the hell is going on?

“Be still for me," she says. "Okay...let's just…”

There's a lot of splinters. Every time she thinks she's got them all, another one is there. But finally she's got one hand done and Hood's breathing is a little less frantic.

“What the hell happened?” she asks him, because if someone's going to come looking, she'd like to grab her gun. If he doesn't answer, she'll just go get it–

“Harley,” he breathes. “Harley Quinn, she--I--I didn't know she was there, I didn't, Sheila said it was safe an' I--I swear I didn't know–”

Dove does not know a Sheila, but Hood’s starting to get worked up and it’s for the best to head that off.

“Okay, okay,” she soothes. “Okay. Is Harley going to be looking for you?”

“I don't–” He swallows. “I don't think so.”

She hates to ask, but she has to.

“Is Sheila?”

He shudders and curls in on himself.

“No,” he whispers. “No, no, no, she's dead, I didn't--I didn't know, I didn't mean–”

Who was she? Sounds to Dove like she might have, frankly, fucked around and found out, but Hood’s upset, head tucked against his knees to try to muffle his sobs, and maybe it’s best to just let that go for now.

“Okay, honey. Okay.”

She's partway through his right hand when he sniffles and rasps, voice thick, “I tried to save her. Honest, I did.”

Dove has no idea what's gone on, or who Sheila is, but she knows Robin. Knows he's telling the truth.

“It's not your fault, sweetheart,” she says. “Now be still, we're almost done here.”

THE END

[birdriddles]

I DID IT FOR LOVE!

I DID IT BECAUSE I LOVE YOU.

GOTHAM’S FINEST | REQ INFO (link)

shared mogai blog co-run by two rogues who provide themed names, pronouns and titles

☂️ — MOD PENGIE

— (banner: gayfreak, transsexual man, feralboy) it he maim tooth, nineteen year old gay trans dogboy who likes DC, slasher movies, fight club, scott pilgrim, scp and resident evil

❔ — MOD RIDDLES

— (banner: mean gay, muttfreak, holycannibal) he they gore puzzle devout, eighteen year old gay trans ratboy with a spinterest in batman 2022, likes postal, fight club, y2k and silent hill

[lostywrites]

An eerie calm had settled over the city, where the shadows still whispered the secrets of Gotham’s recent turmoil. The once chaotic streets now lay tranquil in the aftermath of the invasion. But hope had returned to Gotham, and its protectors could finally retreat for a well-deserved respite.

Tim had spent weeks recovering from his injuries, confined to the infirmary beneath the old theatre he had once called home. It used to be his apartment before the move to Hoboken. Now it served as the new base of operations where his allies and family would gather since the former Belfry had been obliterated by the Court's undead Talons.

The scar, a cruel reminder of his encounter with the White Ghost, snaked across his body, slowly on the path to recovery.

Tim ambled up the hill while on his way to the cemetery, where Bruce Wayne’s resting place remained unmarked. He noticed a figure already in attendance, kneeling before the unadorned tombstone.

Their gazes met, and no words were necessary to convey the depth of their shared grief and longing. Tim took his place beside Damian, and the silence enveloped them like a comforting shroud.

At last, Damian broke the silence, his voice tinged with an unusual vulnerability. “Is it bad that I never shed a single tear at his funeral? And I still feel nothing for Father.”

Tim turned his attention to Damian. “No,” he replied gently. “Everyone experiences grief differently. It doesn't make you any less connected or any less loved. Bruce knew you in a way that few others did, and he understood that.”

The wind rustled the leaves of the nearby trees, a mournful sigh that seemed to echo the complex emotions that swirled between the two brothers.

They stood together in silent solidarity, each grappling with their own feelings and memories of the man one had called father and the other, a mentor.

“I never got the chance to thank you for saving me after our fight with the White Ghost,” Tim spoke.

Damian, who’d been gazing at the unmarked grave, turned to face Tim. “It was your fight, Drake,” he said. “You earned the White Ghost's respect. And mine. You showed me what truly matters.”

“And what’s that?” Tim asked, intrigue dancing in his eyes.

“That you are my brother, and nothing meant more to me than ensuring you made out of that courtyard alive,” Damian confessed.

Tim felt tears welling up in his eyes as he mustered a faint smile. “I always knew you had a heart,” he said softly, "even if you tried to hide it beneath that tough exterior."

“It's a weakness. But it's one I've come to appreciate,” Damian said.

The clouds dispersed, bringing in rays of the afternoon sunlight. The city of Gotham, once cloaked in darkness, was slowly bathed in a soft, golden glow.

As Tim and Damian continued to stand by Bruce's grave, memories of their shared experiences with Bruce came flooding back, and in that tranquil moment, they found solace and a renewed commitment to honour his legacy.

"Damian," Tim spoke, finally breaking the stillness between them. "I'll admit that all these years, I hadn't been fair to you,” he continued, his voice carrying the weight of pent-up emotions that had long festered. A pause followed, as if he needed to gather his thoughts before proceeding. “You were misled by the League. The people you were supposed to look up to raised you to be nothing more than an assassin. You deserve more than that.”

As Tim expressed his regrets, he hoped Damian could discern the genuine remorse in his eyes. “I’m sorry for all the pettiness, the jealousy. For the times I felt that not only had you taken away the Robin mantle from me, but my relationship with Dick. I've carried this guilt for far too long, and fuck, it feels good to finally get that off my chest.”

Damian regarded Tim for a moment, his usual stoicism giving way to empathy. “I accept your apology, Drake,” he replied sincerely. “I owe you one as well. For making you feel like you meant nothing to me, to Richard. If he were here, he would have told you how much he loves you. He never fails to speak highly of you, and has always respected you as an equal, as a brother.”

Tears flowed freely down Tim's face, his usually composed features now a canvas of raw, unfiltered emotion.

Damian's words had struck a chord deep within him, causing him to realise a truth he had long buried.

It had always been Dick's approval that held the most significance for him. While Bruce had often been distant and consumed by his inner struggles, Dick had consistently been his unwavering pillar of support.

The memory of Jack Drake, his biological father, had cast a long shadow over Tim's relationship with Bruce. It had led him to question whether he truly belonged in the Wayne family.

However with Dick, he didn’t feel like another ward taken in by Bruce after his father died. He was not just another Robin mentored by the Dark Knight. He was Dick's brother, always had been, and always would be.

Tim turned away from Damian, his trembling hand wiping away the tears and snot from his face. A tinge of embarrassment crept in as he realised that the person he least expected had become the catalyst for his emotional release.

"I think I'll be here for a bit," Tim admitted with a slight quiver in his voice. "But you don't have to stay if you don't want to."

Damian, his own stoic facade breaking, moved closer to Tim. Without a word, he extended his arms, offering a hug, a simple yet powerful gesture of support and understanding.

Tim hesitated for a moment, surprised by Damian's unexpected offer of comfort. Then, without another word, he moved closer to his younger but equally scarred sibling.

In the embrace of Damian's arms, Tim felt a sense of solace he hadn't experienced in a long time. The tears kept flowing, but they were no longer tears of pain and regret; they were tears of release, cleansing their wounded souls.

“Thank you,” Tim whispered, his voice brimming with genuine appreciation.

Damian nodded in response, a rare softness in his gaze. “We're family, Drake. We support one another, no matter the circumstances.”

In that moment, they were no longer just allies; they were brothers in the truest sense of the word.

---

A/N: I was going through a rough time while I was writing this fic. And I needed to include this scene as a form of closure for Tim, as well as my own.

After losing my dad, my mother, and my best friend (all who had passed just several months apart) and having to deal with grieving for one person after another was a lot to bear. But getting myself lost in writing fanfic has helped more than anything.

Although this fic was mainly centred on Tim and Bart's relationship, I wanted Tim to repair and reconcile his relationship with Damian as well. They both deserve love and forgiveness.

Maybe, just maybe, I might write a Tim/Damian centred fic someday because I love the dynamic between them.

[lilacpin]

welcome to my blog ..

-

she/her - unlabeled - intp

: ̗̀➛ i like video games, music, dc (gotham related content specifically), and other random nerd stuff like etymology and neuroscience. (i also collect cds, retro video games & consoles, and comic books)

: ̗̀➛ some of my favorite games are metal gear solid, the last of us, nier, silent hill, hitman, & batman: arkham

: ̗̀➛ some of my favorite artists are kendrick lamar, sade, jeff buckley, chet baker, deftones, fiona apple, asap rocky, slowdive, the weeknd, & portishead

: ̗̀➛ dni if you’re racist, homophobic, or just a hateful weirdo overall.

-

thanks for reading ♡