#this makes me feel like the joker

[bloodtwin]

An Apple a Day Keeps The Dark Urges Away. . . Or Not another bhaaltwins flashback. this is based on something @accultant wrote first, but it's from puck's perspective rather than iago's. it's set when they're preteens & living on the streets after puck killed their parents died. cw: average durge moment, violence, sui mention

He bought more apples. Iago seemed to like the one he cut up the day before, so he figured they were a safe bet to purchase again. He’d set the bag down on an unopened box by the door of their new, undoubtedly temporary shelter. Iago didn’t notice him come in, and he’d meant to say hello or clear his throat or anything that would have made his presence known. He didn’t know how or why, but he’d always been more on the sneaky side—even with his tall stature and long legs. Recently, he’d started to hate it more than anything. 

He must have forgotten to speak, or maybe they just didn’t hear him. His voice had always been too soft when he didn’t yell. Iago was absorbed in their task of rifling through the stacks and stacks of boxes, discovering other people’s forgotten trinkets and memories. They liked that sort of thing. 

They must be hungry, Puck had thought, so he grabbed his knife from the bag, intending to cut up another apple for them. Since he’d bought a few, he thought they could even share this one. The knife barely sliced the skin before he dropped the apple in disgust. It sounded like rending flesh from bone. A tremor ran down his spine. The knife twitched in his grasp and seemed to move on its own, pointing toward his sibling. Terror flooded his senses as something stirred underneath his own skeleton, and a thousand red dreams flickered in his mind’s eye. Insatiable hunger swallowed him whole. It was happening again.

He tensed up, gripped the knife tighter, and rooted himself to the spot before consciousness began to fade in and out. He didn’t know how long he stood there, fighting the all-too-familiar urge to plunge the blade into his twin’s heart. It always varied, how long he had to wait it out. Sometimes it was only a few seconds. Sometimes it felt like days. This time, he could see the sun setting in the corner of his eye. The room darkened, doubling his fear of himself. Everything was always so much worse in the dark. 

He strained so terribly that the knife threatened to slip out of his sweaty palms. If he let up even slightly, Iago would die. Their death would be gruesome, slow and exhilarating. It would be his worst nightmare; it would be everything he ever wanted. It was his purpose, his destiny. He could never let it happen. Oh, but he would feel so much better if he just let himself split them open and—

They met his eyes, their own piercing stare snapping him back to himself. Their voice was level, yet the sound grated against Puck’s ears as it cut through the silence. He wanted to press his hands to his ears and scream until his lungs gave in, but he couldn’t move. 

“I can’t reach,” Iago said distantly. “Will you put this one back up for me?” They held out the box in their arms. When did they put everything away? 

The knife dropped from his hand. As he came back to himself, the first thing he registered was the fresh scent in the air. It was what propelled him forward, and it grew stronger the closer he got. It was unlike any scent he’d ever known, and he could not put words to describe it. One day he would realize it was the scent of fear. For now, he only knew that it made him hungry. Deftly, his hands took the box from his sibling and hoisted it above them with ease. Iago was directly underneath as it slid into place. Not that it mattered- he was tall enough to work around them without even the slightest nudge. He was afraid to touch them, anyway. They might bolt, or scream. If they bolted, he would most certainly lunge for them. They might not even get the chance to scream that way. Not that anyone would hear them. 

Stepping back, Puck felt ill, and the feeling only got worse at the sight of Iago’s face. His stomach dropped. They looked at him like he was a monster. So, so afraid like a deer frozen before a predator. He knew they didn’t mean it. They didn’t think he was a monster, not really. But they should have. He was. Only a monster would want to tear his own flesh and blood to shreds like he did. He wished he didn’t drop the knife. His hands itched to stab, and he had just the perfect thing to satisfy them. It was buried inside his rib cage, beating fast and recklessly. 

His ears rang, and Iago sounded like they were underwater when they finally spoke, “Thank you.”

He tried not to cry. Looking past them, he nodded stiffly. Of course, he didn’t say. Of course. I will always help you. I’m sorry I scared you. I’d do anything for you. I’d die for you. Would you kill me if you needed to? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. 

He did not say any of these; he did not say anything at all. He ran.

[methoughtsphantom]

Danny adopts Jason and Dan kills the Joker au

Danny adopts Jason not because of the pit but because he sees how hard the guy goes after the Joker. At first Danny thinks nothing of it, but then Jason gets all the core vibes typical of wanting to avenge something. that would be fine except Jason is a bby ghost and the thing he wants to avenge is his own’s death. It’s a feeling Danny almost didn’t have to struggle with, being that a portal killed him (except it was the reason he immediately went to have beef with anyone that crossed the portal. They were essentially aided with the device that killed him and that made him feel… threatened? Frostbite didn’t explain it all that well) so yeah here’s Danny having a bit of a heart attack because the Red Hood is actively seeking to be in the same room as his murderer which baby ghosts are not allowed to what the fuck. He personally won’t do it, (cause he’s never killed someone) but he’s not above asking his older brother Dan to do it.

Danny: think of it as a favor I’m asking of u

Dan: it’s murder, that way surpasses a favor

Danny: 🥺 i’ll buy u a donut

Dan:

Dan: make it a half a dozen and you’re on

[crunchy-rocc]

google blow this guy up

[onehundredfallenpetals]

A change of trains, an unexpected companion on the way home

[chiricat]

souyuri (again)

[necrotic-nephilim]

this is not a ship post, but something that frustrates me a lot in fanon concerning Jason Todd that attempts to soften Jason's return to Gotham for the sake of found family domesticity or easy hurt/comfort or just sliding him into the Batfam sooner, is they all seem to fundamentally misunderstand Jason.

because there seem to be a lot of fandom popular concepts of Jason coming home much sooner and just not having his whole Under The Red Hood arc. which in theory is fine and i can see the want to simplify canon to make room for your lighthearted more fluff-leaning concepts. but in everyone without fail, the way they address the clown-shaped elephant in the room is by having some throwaway line that "oh Jason quietly kills the Joker and moves on".

when the Joker being dead or alive is not the *point*. if by some chance accident, the Joker had died prior to Jason's return, whether by ridiculous freak accident, getting whacked by a fellow villain, hell even someone actually doing so to avenge Jason, it *would not* satiate Jason's anger. because Jason's end goal in UtRH is not to simply kill the Joker: it is to make *Bruce* kill the Joker. Jason's anger is directed to the idea that to Jason, if Bruce truly loved Jason, he would've killed the Joker. that is love, for Jason. compromising your personal values for love and not letting someone go unavenged. when Jason was Robin, almost every angry or misguided thing he did was born of love. he wanted to kill/hurt Two-Face because he believed Dent killed his father. he was so angry at Felipe because an innocent woman was dead due to that man's actions. he wanted to save his mother in a situation he knew he shouldn't be in because he loved her. his anger, his violence, it is driven by love and feelings of righting wrongs. that is how he thinks wrongs *should* be righted. that is how you avenge and *love* someone.

because so long as Jason's return to Gotham doesn't end in Bruce killing the Joker (which, it never will bc Bruce is Bruce), Jason will never forgive Bruce. you cannot wave away the layers of hurt and complicated trauma by killing Joker offscreen. because Jason will still be angry that Bruce didn't avenge him. in his eyes, that means Bruce did not love him enough. he was not truly loved by Bruce the way he loved Bruce. bc Bruce was Jason's whole *world*. prior to being taken in, Dick and Tim, they had support systems. they had loved ones. they knew what stability and healthy family love looked like. Jason *didn't*. and that's not to say that Catherine Todd did not love him with her whole heart and thus he loved her, but it certainly wasn't a stable and safe support system for Jason to grow up in. Bruce was Jason's first real sense of a stable, healthy life. and so of course Jason poured everything into Bruce and loved Bruce so devoutly. Bruce was his world. like he says, if it had been Bruce, Jason would've stopped at nothing.

so his betrayal is rooted in that he was not avenged, not that Joker is alive. so long as the Joker does not die by Bruce's hands, it will never be enough for Jason. (in this era, at least.) notably, this is also why i don't think it would change a thing if Jason knew the whole "oh Bruce wanted to kill the Joker but Superman stopped him" tidbit that fanon has really latched onto as a way to pacify Jason's anger toward Bruce. Jason knowing that wouldn't change a thing, in my opinion. because Jason knows Bruce. and a tenant of Bruce's character is that he grapples with murder *every day*. the whole point is how *easy* it would be for him. he is a human weapon, trained by killers, trained to be deadly. he is the greatest strategist to exist. he knows he could kill someone and get away with it. *no* trace, no proof, nothing. and he knows he *wants* to. wants to kill the Joker, Joe Chill, anyone who's hurt him that viscerally.

but he *doesn't*. that's the point. Bruce wakes up every day with that question on his mind, and every day the answer is the same. Bruce's morality is not a decision he made in an alleyway when his parents died, it's a decision he continues to make every day and he *must* continue to make in order to remain who he is. Jason is quite familiar with the fact that Bruce grapples with this daily. i do not think it surprised nor fazed Jason to know that Bruce did *consider* killing the Joker. that he wanted to. maybe even planned to. but a consideration, a want, a plan, is just a thought. it's nothing substantial, and substance is everything to Jason. at the end of the day, Bruce didn't. he was talked down by *Clark* of all people with an excuse of diplomatic immunity, as if Jason and Bruce don't both know that Bruce could've *easily* found a way to make it look like an accident or some other loophole. because he's Batman. there's always a loophole. he always finds a way when he actually intends to. but he never actually intended to kill the Joker. so he didn't. and Jason would know that there was never an intent. it's an interesting piece of fodder to add to the nuance of Jason and Bruce, but honestly, i think it'd make Jason angrier to have that excuse thrown in his face. as if Bruce hasn't beaten Clark half a dozen times by now. it's a flimsy nonsense excuse that Jason would rip to shreds.

so while yes, i understand the wish for easy lighthearted fanfic that doesn't have to deal with the nuances of canon, i think that Jason's character will always be so deeply robbed and altered if you try to fix his thirst for vengeance with an off-page killing of Joker at Jason's hands. it was never the point. the point was that -in his own eyes- he wasn't loved enough for Bruce to make an acception. he realized that not even his *death* would come before Bruce's Mission. Jason truly believed that Bruce loved him and held him as the most important thing in the world, and now he has proof that Bruce didn't. because the Mission mattered more.

i'm not saying i have a solution to this conundrum if you're attempting to solve it for fanfic/fanon, nor am i even saying it's a bad thing it exists. i just think it becoming overwhelmingly common has led to misunderstandings surrounding Jason's motivations and feelings about this arc and it's an unsatisfying solution that only seeks to pacify Jason's rage and his trauma responses for the sake of found family-ification.

[flwrkid14]

Buried Beneath The Laughter They Ignored

Tim is totally fine. Ridiculously fine, actually.

It didn’t matter that he woke up feeling this bubbling, manic laughter in his chest, like everything was suddenly so fucking funny. It didn’t matter that he’d woken up from another nightmare last night, crying, calling for his mama—not the mother he lost, but the mother he gained, Harley Quinn. And it didn’t matter that most days, he felt more like Joker Junior than he did Tim Drake.

It didn’t matter that no one else seemed to fucking care.

He shoved down every bit of laughter clawing up his throat, because he knew if he let even one chuckle slip, they’d all give him that look. The one they always did. Disapproval masked as concern. They didn’t like Junior. They didn’t want to believe Junior was still in there, clawing his way up every time Tim breathed.

It didn’t matter that no one ever asked him how he was doing. They didn’t want to talk about it. Because talking about it would make it real, and they preferred pretending it wasn’t. They expected him to be fine, to push it down, to carry on like nothing happened. If he tried to bring it up, they’d say he was being insensitive—insensitive to Jason's trauma. What fucking irony, he thought bitterly. As if it wasn’t insensitive to be stepping all over his by not letting him speak.

It didn’t matter that he caught them glancing at him sometimes, like they were waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for him to snap, waiting for Junior to come out again. But they never asked. No one asked what was going on in his head. No one fucking asked.

It didn’t matter that when he finally snapped, when he finally screamed at them, sick and tired of pretending, they had the nerve to act clueless. As if they didn’t know.

It didn’t matter that Dick, of all people, screamed back. Yelling like he was being unreasonable. Like he was the problem. He screamed at Tim, demanding answers, to ask what the hell he meant by Joker Junior, as if—

As if they didn’t know.

They didn’t fucking know.

This whole time, they hadn’t known.

They didn’t know Tim had been taken. They didn’t know Tim had been missing. They didn’t know Tim had been held prisoner at the hand of the Joker for months, tearing him apart, piece by piece, until Junior was the only thing left of him. They didn’t know he had screamed for them, begged for someone to find him, but no one ever did.

They didn’t know how much he had suffered. Alone. They didn’t know how much he had changed. They didn’t know that every time he woke up now, it felt like he was still Joker Junior, just wearing Tim’s skin.

And they didn’t know how much it hurt—how much it broke him—to realize that they had never known.

Tim wasn’t fucking okay. And it mattered—oh, it mattered—that they didn’t fucking know.

Because if they didn’t know, it meant no one ever bothered to look. It meant no one ever cared enough to notice.

[petorahs]

shuake works because it feels like akechi's the only one who listens to akira and prompts the otherwise quiet leader to talk.

in a game about defiant teens making their voice heard, goro akechi listens to akira's voice from the get-go. out of detective-sleuthing/work duties, sure, but over time it's clear that akechi genuinely finds akira interesting.

in fact, akechi's confidant route regardless of which game is being played starts with him deeming akira the antithesis to his thesis, a "worthwhile debate partner". akechi values joker's opinions.

its always nice to see people point out that in that one 3rd sem phone call with akechi, its the most involved akira's been in a conversation in-game. i myself remember inserting a lot more input during that story-sequence which usually i can put on autoplay otherwise. akechi, in a whole different reality, still seeks out joker's opinions on it. it's like he trusts no one but him.

and imo this gives a lot of character to akira. he talks the most with akechi. the quietest people have the most on their minds, and it shows with akira. but akira never gets a say in anything, and who would listen? he's less than a nobody in reality since society dictated that. so he pointedly made himself silent, hiding his thoughts beneath an impenetrable mask. during important story moments, akira favors doing more than saying. his teammates and confidants are all directly inspired by his actions over the course of the game.

but with akechi, it's different. actions seem to take a backseat as they continue with their verbal back-and-forth. in rank 7 of royal, they play pool while talking, but it's clear to the outsider that the focus is in the layered conversation they're having. they primarily talk everytime akechi's in the coffee shop, because they dont usually see eachother in their busy schedules. it's not just "hi, hello, how are you?" with them but "i find you and everything you stand for interesting. let's talk more."

there's something to be said about how two people with vastly different and opposing views seek eachother out to further discuss things instead of antagonizing eachother. its why maruki said "despite being enemies, your relationship was never based on hatred or ill will".

their relationship was never a one-sided thing. akechi helps joker as much as joker helps him... arguably more. he eggs joker on, shows him that he can do better. otherwise, the leader would remain stagnant and unchallenged. there is no progress where there is no thesis and-- you can finish the rest.

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

Still very wild to me when people try to gotcha Jason with the whole "if you can kill other people for being evil why can't they kill you" when jason is like. One of the most passively suicidal characters I've ever seen. What if man

[jemmo]

i don’t want to jump the gun, but i think hwang daseul might have just done it again. two episodes in to let free the curse of taekwondo and i am obsessed. more than obsessed. transfixed. this show feels special in a way hwang daseul’s touch only can give, and just using these two episodes to compare to her previous works, i love that i can already spot the continuity in the kinds of stories she tells, the messages she portrays and how she portrays them. she just knows how to let her characters exist in harmful and difficult places and show how their experiences affect them while also just showing them as normal human beings. it is so so easy to overdramatise these kinds of stories that have these difficult topics and have it be so surface level, but she has never done that. instead, she shows how those experiences shape a person and how they go about living in spite of them. all the way from where your eyes linger to now, she gives us characters that are wholly themselves and not just the traumas they have gone through and i just adore that. i can’t remember what i was talking about specifically, but i remember talking about this sentiment and how it actually helps to build empathy in an audience as opposed to just showing a difficult topic at the most surface level bc you think that makes it accessible and easier to understand and hence empathise with. i don’t think that ever works. it’s only when you do what hwang daseul does, when you give us characters we can get to know and fall in love with and care for that you help us to empathise with their experiences. it’s hard to understand the weight and the hardship of experiencing something traumatic, but when something bad happens to someone close to you, a family member or a friend, you understand and feel that pain astronomically more. that’s what hwang daseul manages to do. and more so, she makes you feel that while also seeing these people as people. you get to see them away from the hurt, you see them smile in moments of happiness and you see that too with people you’re close to, and you feel even more how special and important those moments of happiness are.

and that’s why, whenever hwang daseul is at the helm of something, i will be seated from start to end with endless boxes of tissues ready. i can’t wait to see what else this show has in store.

[sweetchildofrocknroll]

[mitamicah]

I already dreamed about hugging them seperately (x) so why not draw Bojan and Nace hugging each other :'D

[gothamite-rambler]

"I'm a poison... I couldn't save them," Nightwing cried, the fear toxin invading his mind.

A/N: Whelp, I cried while writing this… I kind of regret knowing so much lore about Nightwing, but that song from Epic the Musical: The Wisdom Saga really felt right for him, and I got this idea from a TikTok video too. Yeah, it fits perfectly. Love you, Nightwing.

Context: Scarecrow escaped Arkham and released a stronger strain of his fear toxin. In the ensuing scramble of fear affected Gotham citizens and the batfamily trying to ease the insanity, Nightwing's mask is knocked off... and every fear, regret and shred of guilt is unlocked from his buried memories.

Barbara (on comm): Nightwing? Nightwing, can you hear me? What are you whispering?

Nightwing (whispering, slightly louder): All I hear are screams.

Barbara (worried): Nightwing, it’s not real.

Tarantula (in his head): Nightwing, get away from the ledge!

Nightwing stepped into the middle of the road, staring blankly ahead. His hands trembled with fear as he noticed a knife on the ground. In the pandemonium a stray weapon laid on the ground— but to Nightwing it was a visceral reminder of his worst nightmares. He picked it up, not as a weapon, but as a lifeline to his fraying sanity.

Red Hood (standing behind his brother): Nightwing, get out of the road.

Nightwing (voice trembling with fear and guilt): You don’t know what I’ve gone through… You don’t know what I’ve sacrificed…

Red Hood stepped back, confusion etched across his face as he observed Nightwing staring at his shaking hands, stained with phantom blood. His grip on the knife tightened, wavering between the urge to use it and the desperate fight to resist.

Nightwing: Every comrade I once knew… Every friend… I saw them die… And all I hear are screams.

Silence enveloped him, Barbara and Red Hood begging him to break free from the horror unheard. Yet, the only voice haunting him was that of Tarantula’s—it seeped into his mind like poison. She was behind him… she was too close.

Tarantula (in a fake sweet tone): It will be fine, dear. Come back inside, dear. Love of my life, come back to paradise.

Red Hood (who appeared as the Tarantula in Nightwing's confused and frightened mind) took hold of his arm. To him, it was a gesture intended to pull him to safety and offer assistance, but in Nightwing's eyes, it felt like an attempt to hurt him once more. He recoiled, wrenching his arm free and stepping back in fear. All he could see was her—the woman who had exploited him at his most vulnerable.

Nightwing (clutching the knife arm in fear): Please… don’t hurt me.

Red Hood (confused): Hurt you?

What he hears…

Tarantula (Circe lines): Think of your past, and your mistakes. They'll be the last mistakes you'll make.

Tarantula (as Red Hood) stepped closer, but Nightwing could only cling to the knife as his breathing grew heavier.

Nightwing: Please… Tara- Catalina… Stay away from me.

Barbara covered her mouth in shock, her heart aching to be there to help.

Red Hood: Catalina?

The image of Catalina grew clearer before him, her malicious smile reminiscent of that night weighing heavily on him. The pain surged as he brought the knife closer, the blade just inches from his skin.

In reality, Red Hood's heart raced as the truth dawned on him. He remembered the whispered rumors about this woman who had shattered a hero’s life—he never learned the hero's name.

Red Hood: Nightwing… were you…?

Nightwing (clutching the knife): Let me close my eyes.

Tarantula (as Red Hood spoke to Barbara, demanding to know who Catalina was): I know your life’s been hard; I’ll stay inside your heart.

Nightwing (closing his eyes): All I hear are screams…

Tarantula (creeping closer): I love you, my dear. I love our time here. Life would be so much worse—

Red Hood (but all Nightwing hears is Tarantula): Life would be so much worse if you had died.

Nightwing (forcing back tears): Just let me close my eyes.

Red Hood: Please stay away from harm. Stay in my open arms.

Nightwing (trailing off): All I hear are—

His eyes widened as he noticed the knife rising toward his chest. But then he froze in horror as he saw a young Jason standing before him—the brother he failed to save, the one he discovered was gone too late.

Young Jason: This life is amazing when you greet it with open arms.

Another familiar face appeared—Tim Drake at the age of loss, the moment he lost his mother.

Young Tim: How much longer 'til your luck runs out?

Nightwing: I’m sorry…

His mother emerged next, a visible head wound marring her beauty, her smile faltering, hands clasped as if praying.

Mary Grayson: Waiting, waiting, waiting… My baby boy, I’ll be waiting.

Nightwing (the knife trembling in his grip): I’m took too long...

Young Jason: Whatever we face, we’ll be fine if we’re leading from the heart.

Within that torment, a version of Barbara materialized, a gaping gunshot wound in her stomach clawing at his heart.

Young Barbara: How much longer 'til the show goes south?

Nightwing: I can’t go on…

Current Red Hood (trying to remain calm): Nightwing, stop.

Barbara (on the comms, trembling): Nightwing, wake up!

Current Red Hood: Oracle, I got this!

The cacophony of voices began to overlap, engulfing him in chaos as he clutched his hair with one hand, the knife locked tightly in the other. Panic surged within him, his breath coming in quick gasps. Red Hood, witnessing the depth of his brother’s despair, realized the danger—the knife was raised, and his brother was on the verge of self-harm.

Current Red Hood (begging): Nightwing, fight it, please!

All he could hear were screams—cries, death—an agonizing paralysis that made him feel utterly helpless.

Nightwing (resigned): This is the price.

Tarantula (baiting him): We pay to live.

Nightwing (mindlessly): The world does not.

Tarantula (smirking, her voice more demonic): Tend to forgive. Do it… plunge the knife into your chest… for them.

Young Jason (bleeding): No matter the place, we can light up the world. Here’s how to start.

Young Tim (sobbing): How much longer…?

Young Barbara: Until we all fall down?

Mary (bleeding): Waiting, waiting, waiting…

Nightwing raised the knife higher, Red Hood's eyes widening in terror, sensing this was his only chance. He lunged toward his brother, but all Nightwing could perceive was his bleeding younger brother.

Young Jason: Greet the world with open arms, greet the world with open arms.

Nightwing tried to scream, but it came out as a weak whimper, charged with terror as he prepared to cut into his own flesh. Just as he was about to plunge the knife, something seized his arm, intervening in time before the blade could find its target. It was an embrace, but not Tarantula's—real and solid. The haze around him shifted from the ledge to the stark reality.

He wasn’t on that precipice anymore; he was in Gotham, in the heart of the street, the air thick with fear toxin. Red Hood, masked for protection, was the only one holding him.

Nightwing trembled, fear and rage intertwining, the remnants of Scarecrow’s toxin gnawing at his mind.

Nightwing (voice trembling): Poison… I’m poison.

Red Hood (comforting his sobbing brother): You're not poison. You're nothing she told you. It’s okay… bro, I’m here. She isn’t here to hurt you… Nobody will hurt you.

Red Hood tightened his grip as Nightwing slumped forward, sobbing against him.

Nightwing (reflecting on those he lost or failed to save): I couldn’t save them… I couldn’t save them.

Red Hood (his typical jaded tone giving way to desperation): I don’t know if you can hear me, but you did everything you could, and you’re a hero. You’re one of the few people I can genuinely call a true hero. Please, don’t let the toxin take you down.

Nightwing (desperate, convinced he’s all alone): Forgive me… Forgive me…

Red Hood: I forgive you… because you're my brother and I love you.

Nightwing drew a deep breath, feeling a wave of calm wash over him. Though his mind was still shrouded in darkness, the presence holding him anchored him in reality, slowly dispelling the nightmarish visions that threatened to consume him.

[misterbitches]

so to clarify. jack’s boyfriend (who he forgave) went to jack’s coach who betrayed him; joke got the coach a concrete material way that he could pay jack back in repentance, got the deed for it, gave jack a chance to see the coach again so he could say whatever else—to forgive him or not and anything else he wanted. and I am supposed to just be okay? Ok.

[targarrus]

bele sanje

[me-sploh-rada-imas]

no words for this just help [x]