// i forgor where i save my drafts

No sleep lately.

I woke up to the same Gotham anyway.

// unless your muse is a Jason variant or a world/dimension hopper, i'm holding interactions off (even though i'm itching to). i think i'm getting the hang of it already 🤸‍♂️

// soon, very soon i'll throw him to the wild 🙏 for now, his world is still very much contained. i just need to brainstorm a bit. i'll give you all the dilfson you deserve

"I don't have the time for this," he muttered under his breath.

It was a mess. The last time he had eaten anything was a couple days ago, give or take.

He merely spared the 'shadow' a glance before he started moving to clean the place.

"Don't act like it's your first time haunting me. Get lost."

? ? ?

Checking and hoping nothing breaks. He can't get the antiques anywhere else.

What the fuck was that noise.

𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎'𝚜 𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚞𝚙 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚎.

There's Cass' comforting and somewhat intimidating silence.

... Bruce's grunt of disapproval. Or approval. Who could tell?

I hear them all. 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭. The coldest shadows encompassing me, following my every step.

This shouldn't be real.

I still talk like Oracle is listening, providing coordinates and routes in my ears. I tell myself the jokes that Dick used to annoy me with. Sometimes I'd hear Tim and Damian's nonsense and Steph's amusing TMIs—even when there's not much to discover now.

₊⊹ STRAWBERRY BLISS ⋆˚꩜.ᐟ

𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐃 | 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑

This feels like a simulation, a twisted reality someone made up in their head. If so, they must have really hated me.

𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎, 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎.

There is no show. No audience.

The air and water are poison.

I don't know how and why I've survived for so long. I shouldn't have. I should have died a long time ago.

Somehow, I'm still alive. I'll still be alive.

Even though none of this feels real.

The supplies are almost out.

There's barely anything in this lifeless city.

// doing what i did with Talon. one small stuff at a time. it'll be a consistent thing 🤞

The gargoyles don't talk, but they make good company.

Those are the silent witnesses. They've seen what I've seen and know what I know.

𝚆𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝙶𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚖.

// VIBING

(𝘕𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘎𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵.

𝘕𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘎𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴.)

(𝘔𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳, m̶y̶ f̶a̶t̶h̶e̶r̶ 𝙝𝙞𝙢 — 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘺 —

𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.

𝘞𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘦.

𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦. 𝘚𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.)

The view from rooftops is a bittersweet one.

I remember people living their lives.
(𝘐 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴, 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘥𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺.)

Rooftops weren't always this empty.
(𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.)

// HSLP?

// one post a day until i get ahold of his voice ☝️

Twenty years.

Twenty damning years since She turned silent.

The two bastards died and took the whole city with them.

And I am all that's left.

𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝.