deadgood-redhood

[deadgood-redhood]

Post patrol goofing

[deadgood-redhood]

@severely-glorious-ruins YOU GET IT !

the way you word this almost makes me think of selkies too

also the fact that kon... is just a shirt with a symbol on it, a complete merge, a lack of privacy, unable to escape what he is

theres something in the symbolism of clark unbuttoning his shirt to reveal his superman costume vs jons superboy hoodie unzipping to find a shirt beneath

[deadgood-redhood]

girl experiences gender euphoria and is immediately slammed by grief

for @litttlittt <3. this was supposed to be a portrait of caroline hill, but litta mentioned tim looking like janet when dressed as caroline and identity issues and angst and things spiraled

something about tim not knowing if he's his mother's child or bruce's or neither's.

figuring out the looks:

i wanted janet to have that poofy 70s hair

[deadgood-redhood]

Daminika shippers on Twitter act like Damijon is a bad ship and consider Damijon shippers' opinions invalid???? Like why??? I understand you may not like a ship but judging a person's thoughts as "bad" (about something that is not even about ships) just because they ship another ship????? I'm a casual Daminika enjoyer but I really don't understand these Daminika shippers.

I would've understand if it something like Batcest or something but it's Jondami, like, one of the most normal ships. Childhood friends/Best friends to lovers ship. I don't understand why they act like it is a taboo.

[deadgood-redhood]

when i saw you standing there with the dyed up blonded hair they said that you had 'clout' i said i didn't care

in the shadow of the stars the lighter makes a spark but i look better in the dark

[deadgood-redhood]

i bring a “i dont think those characters would like each other at all” that fandom brainrot doesn’t like very much

[deadgood-redhood]

slip of the tongue

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I'm definitely a fan of Damian looking more like Talia than Bruce as he gets older in both face and body.

I think it's something that he'll definitely struggle with especially considering all his life growing up he's been told he looks exactly like his father, only to realize that he doesn't need to be a carbon copy of his father to be Batman if that's what he chooses to be.

Plus I think it gives Damian the advantage of being pretty like his mom to prove to those that underestimate him that they shouldn't. That just because he's pretty it doesn't mean he can't kick your ass and I think that's just a fun dynamic to have.

[deadgood-redhood]

Personally, I like to think that older Damian has more of a lithe, slim and lean build to him. It just makes more sense to me especially considering his vegetarian diet. Not saying that he doesn't have muscle because he does it's just more on the leaner side. I just think it gives him more of an assassin-like frame and he definitely uses it to his advantage

[deadgood-redhood]

how it should have gone

[deadgood-redhood]

T-Boy clark kent and bruce wayne

[deadgood-redhood]

[deadgood-redhood]

[deadgood-redhood]

little bird/hollow bones 003

[ drug use, emetophobia ]

tim resurfaces sitting in an armchair in an apartment, the party a blur all around him, people laughing, dancing, drinking, doing lines. he doesn't remember what happened between the explosion and now, but he's glad he didn't incidentally show up in the batman suit in his haze. he must have taken it off at the theater... he briefly remembers something of an argument with bernard in the bedroom when he arrived; something about making bernard look stupid while tim was out probably making out with steph. tim doesn't remember what he said in response to that, but he knows by the red rims on bernard's eyes and the sulking glares he keeps throwing at tim it must have been nasty.

tim realizes his hand is cold, looks toward the drink clutched in his grip, the ice half melted and the glass sweating a circle into the fabric of his chair. he considers it, and takes a sip. it's not his favorite, and it's watered down. he takes another swig.

dick is texting him. probably some stupid meme. he ignores it.

he feels like he's forgetting something important. he ignores that too. someone offers him a line, he takes it, and he falls back into the numb.

---

tim sat up in a cold sweat, heart racing, hardly able to breathe. he claws at the collar of his shirt and quickly pulls the garment off, trying to give his throat room to breathe. he places his head in his hands, curled over himself as he tries to catch his breath and calm down.

the room was cast in an ethereal glow by the screens tim kept alive at all hours, each playing one of the major news stations of gotham. he couldn’t sleep unless they were on, their volume turned down to a near silent overlapping murmur. anything could happen at any time and no one else was going to save everyone. just him. it was all him.

the surgical blue-white glow was cut through by a sudden splash of vibrant red. tim looked up, gripping his knees with white knuckles as his stomach lurched and his chest tightened. there, on one of the screens, was footage of the explosion, taken by a bystander. beneath the video was a bright red banner, declaring tim's failure: 17 DEAD.

“Fanatics are even saying Batman is the wrong height and build. Could this really be an imposter?” a female news reporter said, clinical even when delivering a conspiracy.

“It would certainly explain the recent string of casualties Brenda,” her co-anchor encouraged. he looked at the camera to speculate with the audience, “or maybe they were murders.”

tim was up and crossing the floor before his brain knew where his feet were going. there was cold tile under his feet, and then his hand was roughly slamming the shower on. he isn’t sure if he gets all his clothes off before he’s under the spray. he’s blasted with cold water that robs him of the last hints of his breath, and he struggles, mouth open for a moment, before his body ripples with a gag that has drool spilling from his lips. he chokes and coughs and gets control of himself, gripping the shower tiles like they’d do anything to save him, before finally, blessedly, he starts crying. it’s not just crying, it’s wailing, and tim is glad for the hiss of the shower and the soundproofed rooms. he braces his fists and elbows on the floor and screams until there’s nothing left inside him. he doesn’t know how long he’s empty for, but when he realizes he’s alive the shower has long since warmed up and is raking hot claws down his back. he breathes like his lungs are two wrung out rags, and licks his lips as the water streams off his nose, closing his eyes. he stands up against the force of the earth dragging him down, turns off the shower, and falls asleep on top of his blankets without drying off.

[deadgood-redhood]

theres something in the symbolism of clark unbuttoning his shirt to reveal his superman costume vs jons superboy hoodie unzipping to find a shirt beneath

[deadgood-redhood]

little bird/hollow bones 002

tim doesn't really fuck up until the explosion.

he's down on the docks, investigating a massive shipment of explosives that just came in, trying to figure out who the hell is behind it. the place is crawling with lowlife thugs, so it can't be anyone too dangerous.

it's disorienting seeing his own shadow splayed out across the floor by the light of the moon. those pointed ears should mean his father is here, ready to protect him if anything goes wrong, but instead they're a cold reminder that it's all on him now.

he doesn't have long to dwell on it. he's been getting pings from bernard for the past two hours, vying for tim's attention. there's a party tonight, and tim is making bernard look like a complete *fool* showing up alone. tim muted the pings, but the anxiety trained into him by his parents about keeping a perfect societal appearance was harmonized with by knowing he'd never hear the end of this from bernard. then bruce has to butt in.

"Tim, your vitals are showing a major uptick in anxiety. I don't see any threats on the scans. What's happening?"

with babs out of the picture and bruce out of the suit he's been *glued* to the computer, monitoring *everything.* tim should be glad to have him at all, but the sudden voice in his ear over the comms has him jumping- and then mad at himself, and at bruce, for the scare. everyone needs to just *leave him alone.*

tim prepares to hiss as much to bruce, but as quiet as a mouse, the tiny shape of a woman steps out around the corner and looks him square in the face. she's dressed as a thug, got the gun trained at him to prove it, but there's a hollow terror to her eyes that tells tim she doesn't want to be here as much as he doesn't want her to be, either. she must have heard the quietest buzz from the comms, and that was all it took for tim to be face to face with the barrel of a pistol.

"Sorry," he says, and manages to halfway mean it as he spins and levels a kick at her head. the gun goes off, the bullet sparking off the warehouse ceiling, drawing a cry of alarm from the other thugs prowling the warehouse. her body lands hard against a crate and falls to the floor with a thud, and tim starts running as more shots start thudding against his cape.

he doesn't have the time to find out who purchased this shipment. he's sitting on his death, and he doesn't feel like following jason's act, so he's getting the hell out of there before anyone decides to make good use of the thousands of pounds of explosives and get rid of gotham's terrifying protector.

in fact, he'll do them one better.

later he could make a thousand excuses about thinking all the thugs would wise up and scatter and get the hell out of there, putting two and two together about being near a bunch of explosives that batman doesn't want in the city. he could say that at least he put the detonator he dropped on a timer, gave them a head start. he could say he thought they were all chasing him, honest, he wouldn't have done it otherwise.

but he knows the truth, deep down in his core.

he plain doesn't care.

the explosion paints the sky orange as tim barely manages to hook his grapple and careen out of there into the cold night, heart hammering as he puts as much distance between himself and the truth as possible.

"What was-"

tim rips the comm out of his ear before bruce can finish talking, teeth bared in terror and frustration.

he isn't cut out for this, and he's proven it with one swift motion.