#I'm probably forgetting someone

[capnsupernova]

The Death of Batman

Four years. Four years since the streets of Gotham have seen Batman. Four years since the Justice League has seen Batman. Four years since the Robins have seen Batman.

And now he stands, in full gear, mask and cape and all, in front of a podium in broad daylight with a microphone in his face, surrounded by cameras. The audience is still. No one dares make a sound. No one dares ask why, after all this time, he is here now. No one dares to say it, but he’s different than they imagined he’d be. He is tall, yes, and his shoulders broad and sturdy enough to carry the whole weight of the world, but they see his weariness etched in the lines of his mouth, the only part of his face they have ever been able to see. For the first time, they see, not some cryptid of the night meting out justice, but a man. Just a man in a suit. No one dares say it, but he looks tired.

For a long time, he is silent.

When he does speak, his voice is softer than they expect—tinged with the first hints of age.

“I have watched this city for so long.”

The people of Gotham hold their breath.

“For so long, I have been your knight, your judge, your hero…. No, not your hero. It’s been a long time since I’ve been anyone’s hero.” He sighs and all the burdens of darkness and justice escape with his breath. “I am so tired.”

His enemies wait in the shadows. Everyone knows they’re there, waiting for an opportunity. Never has Batman announced his presence so publicly. Never has he handed himself so neatly to them, and with so many potential hostages and casualties around his stage. But they find themselves frozen. This is not the voice they know, not the gruff growl that haunts their nightmares. He is tired. They hear that, and this is familiar in a different way. They have all, villain and civilian alike, felt this exhaustion themselves. And so, they wait to see what he will say next.

“I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing. I don’t know if I’ve ever done the right thing. My children are hurting. I have hurt my children.” His voice catches. He takes a moment, looks up at the sky, blue and cloudless and bright. “I just want them to come home.”

He pauses, head tilted upwards before looking back at the people of Gotham, people he saved, people he fought and locked away—all of them, in one way or another, people that he has tried to help. People he has tried to protect.

“The Batman,” he says, “is retiring.”

Somewhere, a pin drops, and the echoes reverberate around the world. No one notices, but in the crowd, among reporters, a tall, barrel-chested man with dark hair and thick-rimmed glasses smiles. It’s a small smile, a twitch of the lips. He meets Batman’s eyes over the tops of the heads of Gotham’s citizens. He nods, barely perceptible, and the man behind the black mask stands just a little taller.

“That is all. Thank you.”

And just like that, Batman is gone. No one stops him as he walks off the stage. No one stops him as their Dark Knight, their strange and mysterious vigilante, disappears into the shadows and out of their lives forever.

--

The first to return is Jason. He knocks on the door with all the casual confidence of Gotham’s premier crime boss, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, eyes so green they may as well be glowing.

When Bruce opens the door, he looks the old man up and down. “I’m assuming my old room is still available?” His smile is half-cocked and arrogant as ever, but there’s uncertainty furrowed in the space between his brows. If you didn’t know him, you wouldn’t see it at all.

Bruce sees it. And of all the things Jason excepts—the door slammed in his face, all the security systems of Wayne manor targeting his chest and head, a lecture at the very least—what he doesn’t expect are the tears that well up in Bruce’s eyes. He doesn’t expect to be wrapped tightly in his strong arms, arms that feel so much smaller than he remembers.

“Oh my boy,” Bruce whispers into his chest. “Oh my sweet, strong boy. I’m so sorry. I’ve missed you so much. I’m so glad you’re home.”

And it’s too much. The man behind the red hood, the man who beat Tim within an inch of his life, the man who shot Damien in the back in an effort to kill his own pain, crumples. In his father’s arms he is reduced to that 15-year-old boy who died and came back to life. The 15-year-old boy who, after all this time, only ever wanted to come home.

--

The rest showed up one by one that very same day. Dick showed up first with Tim and Damien in tow, surprised—not that Jason was there—but that he had beat him home. Then Barbara, Duke, Stephanie. It wasn’t long before the house was full of every single Robin and Batgirl who ever passed through these halls. Draped over chairs and couches (or, in Dicks case, swinging from the chandelier in the foyer while Tim and Damien did their best to use him—unsuccessfully—as target practice).

Not much changed in Gotham, after that. The villains didn’t retire with Batman, just as they didn’t disappear with Batman four years ago. But neither were they given free reign of the city, for Batman had ensured so, so long ago that there would always be someone to protect his home and his people. Gotham would always have their symbols of hope, their bats of blue and red and green and purple and yellow. New symbols that filled the night with a rainbow of colors.

And when their work was done, they returned to the manor, where their father would dress their wounds, mend their capes, and make them heaping piles of pancakes and eggs (“Yes, Dami, you have to finish the eggs. I won’t have some villain getting the better of you because you don’t have enough protein in your system”) with bowls of fruit and fresh squeezed orange juice. Bruce was, at the very least, a better cook than Alfred had been.

Things weren’t perfect. There were wounds that couldn’t be healed with a simple hug and a few tears. Wounds that would take years of therapy and hard talks and patience to fully close over. Bruce never told them where he’d been for those four years, and they never asked. This was the beginning of something entirely new for all of them.

But for the first time since anyone could remember, the sun shined bright and warm over the city of Gotham.

--

Writer’s Note:

This is an idea I have debated with close friends—the retirement of Batman. The main issue boils down to this: what becomes of Gotham without their symbol of hope? And to me, the answer is simple. Nothing. Because Batman is no longer their only symbol of hope. He hasn’t been for a long time, since he first took in Dick Grayson, that colorful bird of a boy. I think, in all honesty, that this is the true purpose of the Robins. Maybe Bruce himself didn’t realize it at the time, but he always hoped for something brighter for Gotham than Batman. Bruce has always been a reflection of Gotham. “The hero they deserve.” In a way, by taking in each sidekick, he adds another possibility, not just for the people of Gotham, but for himself too. A brighter future. Isn’t this what we all hope for our children?

[typingatlightspeed]

Metal Gear/TF2 Crossover Fic - cp_shadow_moses_event - Chapter 4

"Snake, what do you know about the Gravel Wars?" "The Gravel Wars?" Snake repeated, almost disbelieving.

Snake's made it inside, with BLU well on the way to the same as FOXHOUND gears up for the big, long con and Octopus becomes the first casualty of the bigger, longer con going on behind it all. Mantis has his doubts about their survival, but Liquid is one hell of an inspirational leader. Just like his father.

Ao3 Link!

ngl that "what do you know about the Gravel Wars" line was the very first thing I thought of when @tarisbackyard gave me this prompt lmao. Also: some Engie/Spy flirting! Is it a relationship? Are they just flirty friends? Who knows! I sure don't. All I know is Medic is thirsting after Raven, and, like, I get it tho.

---------

Snake's boots clunked softly onto the catwalk that ringed the upper level of the tank hangar as he dropped from a vent overhead. The room was large and open, with precious few places to tuck himself away and not be seen. There looked like four doors on the upper level, two on either side. Normally, it would be more than a challenge to get through unscathed, with the small smattering of genome soldiers patrolling there backed up by a few oscillating security cameras.

Fortunate for him, then, that explosions began rocking the heliport outside, followed by a cacophony of screams and what sounded like machine gun fire of some sort. Snake couldn't help but be as startled as the guards at the commotion. There wasn't supposed to be any direct fire support for him, and an assault directly on the facility would put everyone in there on high alert, making his mission that much harder.

On top of that, there was the whole risk of a nuclear incident and subsequent worldwide scandal, if not worse.

He didn't have time for suppositions; not when he had an opportunity to seize. It took startlingly little effort to slip down to the elevator on the ground floor and steal his way inside, eyes widening as an explosion punched a massive dent into the armoured doors that closed the hangar to the elements outside. He pressed the button for B1 and the elevator doors slid closed, leaving him wondering.

He opened a codec channel. "Colonel, there's some kind of bombardment going on outside, right behind me. What's going on?"

Campbell's voice rasped through the small bones in Snake's inner ear, and it felt like the man was grousing right next to him. "Extremely unforeseen interference," he grumbled, "this has a possibility of throwing a huge wrench into this operation."

"Unforeseen interference?" Naomi cut into the transmission. "Snake, what do you know about the Gravel Wars?"

"The Gravel Wars?" Snake repeated, almost disbelieving. "You mean that civilian conflict between two companies over the control of a bunch of quarries around the New Mexico badlands that's been going for a century or so?"

"It's not just the New Mexico badlands, Snake. While the main focus of it is in and around the gravel pits of the city of Teufort, that's true, it's long since escalated basically anywhere those companies have opened businesses over the decades. Water bottling, breweries, lumber, coal, and more, mostly still focused on the southwestern US, but other places in the world have dealt with its fallout as well."

"It's fought entirely by mercenaries, right? And been at a stalemate for as long as it's been going."

"Exactly," Naomi said. "The belligerents are Reliable Excavation and Demolition, owned by Redmond Mann, and Builder's League United, owned by his twin brother, Blutarch Mann. The Manns have fought for supremacy their entire lives, each mirroring the other's advances to try and undercut his brother. And each is the heir of all of their late father's properties and businesses, but only when one of them alone is left alive. It's been all-out war between them ever since."

Snake shook his head in confusion. "What does any of that have to do with Shadow Moses?"

Campbell cut back into the signal. "A team of nine mercenaries from Builder's League United has just taken the heliport, and are the ones bombarding the door to the tank hangar to get inside."

"That doesn't make any sense, Colonel. This facility is owned by Arms Tech on a US government contract, right? What would BLU want with this place?"

"That's something we don't know; and we're trying to find out."

"What are my orders, then?"

"Continue with the mission," Campbell said, though Snake could hear a ghost of unsureness in his tone. "We'll do what we can on our end to get you intel. Most importantly, try to stay out of their way for the time being until we can find out what they're doing there. It can't be a coincidence that this is happening all at once."

"Got it," Snake replied, closing the channel.

*

"He's almost reached Octopus," Psycho Mantis reported, eyes closed, concentrating on tracking Snake's thought patterns over a distance.

"Right on schedule," Ocelot said, checking his watch.

"I'm impressed you can sense him that far," Sniper Wolf replied with a lifted eyebrow.

"I am too," Mantis admitted. "Normally it would be simple, but with all of the fresh commotion—"

"The mercenaries," Raven supplied, looking over to where RED was making their final equipment checks.

"They're loud."

"I can't disagree." Wolf noticed the lanky one in the slouch hat staring at her for a long moment, her expression hardening.

"He's looking at your rifle," Mantis said matter-of-factly as the mercenary approached.

"Miss?"

Sniper had expected the woman with the rifle to startle as he addressed her, approaching out of her line of sight. Instead, the dull reaction of her slowly turning to look at him gave him pause.

"What do you want?" Wolf asked, eyes slowly taking in the tall, narrow man before her.

If Sniper didn't know any better he'd have thought she'd been drugged, the way her words drawled out and her eyes didn't so much move as heave in whatever direction she was looking. It was enough that he found himself less surprised by the beauty of the woman before him than he was her uncannily languid affect. "Er, just noticed your rifle. That's a H&K PSG-1, isn't it?"

Wolf turned to face the man, "It is."

"Beauty of a gun, that," Sniper chuckled. "Been thinkin' about pickin' one up, but that price tag's got me wallet scared stiff. But givin' it a squiz in person I'm thinkin' I might change me tune. 'opin' I might pick your brain on its pros and cons, if you've a minute."

A small smile slowly spread across Wolf's lips. Mantis hadn't been lying; he really was looking at her rifle. "What do you want to know?"

"I've 'eard it kicks out the casings a ways; really chucks the cunts. Got concerns about that givin' away my position."

"You definitely have to account for it when setting up your placement..."

Mantis watched the two of them walk away to chat, shaking his head. He turned to Raven, who was staring at Heavy, eyeing the minigun the man was currently loading, gently talking to it as though it were a beloved child. "More weaponry ogling," Mantis teased, making the shaman frown.

"It's rare I see a man who can lift and fire a weapon even close to something like mine," Raven supplied dismissively. "Especially one so much smaller than me."

"Their medic is staring at you as well," Mantis added, directing Raven's gaze to the doctor beside Heavy, who was indeed looking with obvious interest at the enormous Inuk, stealing glances whenever his attention wasn't diverted elsewhere.

A soft laugh hefted through Raven's nose. "Should I be concerned?"

"It depends. Partly, he wants to study you. Considers you a massive, sturdy specimen. He's comparing you to the Heavy. He wants to know what your organs look like."

"How does it depend, then?"

"The other part involves exchanging genetic material," Mantis said, his words like ooze seeping through his mask. "He's comparing you to the Heavy."

"You are quite the specimen, my friend," Ocelot teased.

Raven frowned and looked back to the doctor, who upon noticing eyes on him, offered the giant a friendly wave and a smile with too many teeth. "I need to get people on setting up those mines."

Mantis shook his head, watching as Raven peeled off to be anywhere else.

"He considered it, didn't he?" Ocelot asked with a smirk.

Mantis didn't dignify him with a response, disgusted by such base preoccupations. He turned to leave, only to be startled by the sudden sight of a gas mask in front of him.

Pyro tilted his head curiously at the other gas mask wearer. His voice muffled by filters, he offered a bright, "Hello!"

Mantis stared into those blank lenses and saw Hell.

Bone, bullets, blades, the spilling of bile, blood, bowel, splattered across the landscape in stark, frank totality. Flames billowed and danced, guttered and roared, drawing screams of terror and agony. The stench of charred flesh and singed wood, of chemical accelerant. Smoke churned skyward as if bellowed from the gullet of some great beast as sobbing and moans of agony mingled with it in the air.

Glitter danced over all of it, fuzzing in and out like static overtaking a weak signal, two channels broadcasting on the same frequency fighting for dominance as a storm roiling overhead threatened to disrupt reception of both. Fluffy white clouds puffed into the air from sparkling sprays of colour and light, giggles and squeals of glee accompanying the lilting hum of some bubblegum pop song. Babies played hide and seek and cheered as they were given big oversized lollipops and stickers with cute animals on them. Under it all, Mantis could smell rot, char, and iron.

He froze in place like a deer in headlights as Pyro craned forward to inspect him.

Ocelot sighed, shook his head, and went to tell Heavy to get his men together and move the hell out already. He had his own work to attend to in the hangar building.

*

"What's it look like in there, Spy?" BLU Engineer asked into his radio while he waited for Demoman to finish improvising a breaching charge on the hangar door.

There was a moment of quiet before Spy's voice crackled through the earpiece. "A large, open room. A catwalk ringing it, tanks on the lower level. It's a hangar. There is an elevator and a cargo door across from the entrance, both shut." "And the occupants?"

"Two guards, currently very distracted by the previous attempts at breaching the door. Also, a pair of security cameras."

"Get the feelin' that ain't gonna be so much a problem. If they don't know we're already here, some video footage of our ugly mugs ain't gonna do much to help that kind 'o ignorance."

"Ugly mugs? Mon ami, I can't imagine who you're speaking of," Spy teased. "Certainly not you or I. Maybe Soldier, I suppose."

"You flirtin' with me, son?"

A snicker creaked across the channel. "You're just now noticing?" That snicker turned into a snort as Engineer whooped a laugh on the other end.

"What about Solid Snake?"

"Handsome, in his own way."

"You're incorrigible. I mean where is he?"

Spy chuckled. "No sign. He's either well hidden or on the lower floors. We're clear of him for the moment."

"You got a handle on the two fellers in there?"

"They'll cease to be a problem long before you get inside."

"Heard. Over 'n out." Engineer turned to Demoman. "That charge almost ready?"

Demoman waved him off, a pair of pliers in one hand as he wired up the charges to a detonator. "Aye, just a tick. We clear in there?"

The heavily muffled screams of men being stabbed through the spine sounded through the door.

"I know he knows how do to that quiet. Why's he gotta let 'em go out screamin'?"

Demoman chuckled, "Like ye can talk about sadism. Get tae cover!"

*

Snake could have sworn he felt the rumble of an explosion from overhead. But it wasn't important. Not as he knelt over the body of the DARPA chief, Donald Anderson. Not as he reeled with fury and confusion at Campbell's suspicious reaction over the codec. Not as the sinking feeling settled into his gut that he was once again being sent on a mission just to be betrayed and not just expected, but planned not to return.

He couldn't dwell on it. No matter what shady dealings were happening on the other end of his codec, he was in the field, and there was a metal gear in play. And no matter what was thrown at him, that was the most important thing he had to worry about. He had to focus. All there was to do was to continue, so he would.

The sound of a scuffle outside of his cell took him aback.

*

"Octopus is dead and Silverburgh is free," Mantis reported into the radio, his voice rasping through gas mask filters in a tone that was almost disappointment.

"He killed him?" Wolf asked, rounding on her teammate.

"Looked like a heart attack."

"A heart attack? No. That's too convenient." "Too convenient indeed," Liquid snake hummed, reentering the hangar.

Wolf tilted her head slowly. "You're finally back." "You try emergency landing a Hind D in a blizzard when your helipad's occupied by mercenaries with rocket launchers," Liquid huffed, pouting as Wolf smirked in reply.

"Do you have any theories as to what killed him, then?" Mantis asked, staring down his old friend through shaded lenses.

"No, but Wolf's right. It's suspicious."

"He could have poisoned Octopus. Did he make physical contact?" Wolf asked, looking to Mantis.

"No. Not until he collapsed."

Liquid took a deep breath, letting it out slowly through his nose. "We'll need to be more careful. Stay alert for any tricks he has up his sleeve. But we need him. Without him, and Mantis' plan, we can't unlock REX and all of this will have been for nothing. Including Octopus' death."

"Shall we get in place for this charade, then?" Mantis asked, choosing not to voice just how surprised and alarmed Liquid's mind was. He covered his own interiority well to the physical observer, just as he always did.

"Yes. I need to stay ready for his codec calls. Master Miller needs to remain available to feed him Alaskan trivia and other such nonsense."

"We'll get into place, then," Wolf sighed, digging a pill bottle from her pack and popping a diazepam.

"Go easy on those," Liquid said, ignoring the immediate annoyance with which his command was greeted. "I don't want you falling asleep waiting for him."

"I'll make sure to sound the alarm for her once I have him in sight," Mantis assured Liquid with amusement. "And if she's asleep, her dreams will simply get very strange until she wakes up."

"I'll be fine, don't worry," Wolf assured Liquid, shooting a look to Mantis before walking out.

Once they were alone, Liquid looked to Mantis. "Glad to see you in such good spirits. What's got you joking around for once?"

"The gallows," Mantis replied flatly.

"You think we'll all die here, don't you?"

"Octopus is already dead. Solid Snake brings death with him wherever he goes, whether he uses lethal methods or not."

"That's awfully florid of you."

"It's not florid if it's demonstrable fact from past missions he's been on. It's not like Dirty Duck or Running Man are still out there running ops, Eli."

A long sigh left Liquid's nose. He couldn't argue with that. "This plan was your idea."

"And I stand by it. But it's a delicate dance, throwing a fight and making it look convincing. Moreso when you stand a real chance at catching your final bullet in the process."

"We have to hope that Octopus was a fluke. We have to hope that our Outer Heaven will have a place for all of us," Liquid offered. He made no contact with his touch-averse old friend, but his tone itself was like a warm clap on the shoulder.

Mantis' breath shuddered through the filters of his mask. "Hope is superstition. We have to make it that way."

"We will."

Liquid believed it. God, he believed it to the core of his being. And seeing it, Mantis couldn't help but believe it a little too.

[gavotte-paradisio]

How Bad Can I Be from The Lorax but it's The Assholes of Hatchetfield (Humans only)

[phillipthehermit]

characters whose identity and self-perception is extremely blurred you'll always be my dearest friends

[foxgl-ove]

if i had a nickel for every female character that was the most powerful being on the planet only to become the villain and fight the ones she used to fight With because they don't acknowledge the struggle she's going through until the very end, when she sacrifices herself to save them, i'd have Two nickels which isn't a lot, but it's weird it happened twice right?

[generic-enthusiast]

If I were to start doing a daily/weekly/some other frequency bc I have a life surprisingly 1 question quiz about the outsiders for fun, would you a) be interested and if so b) want open-ended or multiple choice questions?

[badly-drawn-pigeon]

You stabbed me. That was amazing. I will love you forever.

[ushstuff]

Any other music artists/bands you like apart from Mother Mother?

I also like Marina and the diamonds, Mitski, Melanie Martinez, Missio, EPICA, Soda Stereo, a little bit of Caifanes andddddd

The unnameable one, Get Scared. Ah, I still listen to some songs if I'm honest

And musicals! It is a big part of my playlist.

[swordsonnet]

i'm sorry but i don't think we should call this the "autism website" when there's still posts with tons of notes mocking people who:

struggle with social skills / have anxiety around social settings

are unemployed / unable to work certain jobs

have intense or "age-inappropriate" interests

haven't had certain life experiences that are deemed universal/essential

struggle with personal hygiene

don't have any friends or dating experience

don't go outside much or at all

take things literally / don't get sarcasm/jokes

have unusual ways of speaking

generally aren't "normal"

[lazylittledragon]

i am losing my entire shit right now, this single panel caused a nuclear disaster in my ig comments when someone said "halsin just saying 'astarion's partner' instead of his name feels icky"

which is such a fucking reach by itself but descended into this in about 5 seconds

[kalied0skull]

man fuck innocent quiet johnny i need him to be a little shit

i need him to throw swears at guys on the street and toss trash into the roads

i need johnny to join in on the insults and screaming matches and play fighting with the gang

i need angry johnny who hates everyone and gets real pissy about everything

i just need him to feel other emotions sometimes because pony is such an unreliable narrator that now everyone thinks he's just some sad kid

what about what we don't know huh ... sniffles ... what about that ...

[realtapiocafan]

Joe Burrow doesn't mind being thirsted over on social media. While discussing his new "Choose Better" campaign with BODYARMOR, the Cincinnati Bengals quarterback, 28, tells PEOPLE what he thinks of the internet's crush on him. "It's been interesting to see how the perception of me has changed over the years," Burrow tells PEOPLE. "I never really felt that way about myself, and I wouldn't say when I was younger, other people felt that way about me either." Burrow says it's only in the last couple of years that he's seen the internet catapult him into heartthrob status, and while he's not exactly accustomed to the focus on his personal life, he appreciates the admiration. "I just find it interesting how the change has happened over the last couple years. It makes you feel good," says Burrow. "It definitely doesn't make me feel bad. So I don't pay attention too much to it, but sometimes it's nice." During his interview with PEOPLE, Burrow also talked about how he's been spending his offseason, and shared that he's "been more into audiobooks and podcasts," but fans of the NFL star may be surprised to learn what his taste in podcasts is like. "I'm into physics and science and things of that nature," says Burrow, "So Lex Fridman, I'll listen to some of his things. David Kipping has a podcast that I enjoy listening to. So mainly physics and science currently." Burrow is also enjoying meeting his fellow BODYARMOR athlete ambassadors like WNBA star Sabrina Ionescu, Edmonton Oilers' Connor McDavid and Dallas Cowboys' CeeDee Lamb. "I like how diverse the cast is, as far as all the different sports," Burrow tells PEOPLE of the campaign. "I just met Sabrina for the first time a couple days ago, and I have a lot of respect for all those names." Burrow says working with BODYARMOR "really aligns with who I am pretty perfectly," and the brand supports his "mindset" of "trying to get better every single day." Whether he's in the gym or listening to a science podcast, Burrow says he's always looking to be a "better" version of himself, especially after a disappointing end to the Bengals' season, with the team just missing the playoffs. "I know everybody on our team wasn't satisfied with how the season ended for us, so I think everybody is focused on the same thing," he shares. "That really aligns with what BODYARMOR is doing right now with the new campaign. If I can just get a little better every day, then I'll be a little better next year than I was last year, and you can say the same thing for the year after that."

https://people.com/joe-burrow-doesnt-mind-being-internets-crush-exclusive-11716691

[silverydragonheart-blog]

Im real again it's against my will but au where jason todd is just dani that's it that's the post its a sure fire way to have danny todd

Context I was just laying here and went "hey yknow danny todd as danny fenton because of dani" and I was thinking about the "danny fenton is trans" headcanon and just what if dani was too?

Dani: I'm the only stable clone because I'm a girl

Dani later after without learning danny is even trans: yknow what I think I want the name jason after jazz

[sweetlullabyebye]

Almost 1 minute and a half of Jim saying Oswald/Penguin

[anistarrose]

guess I have to reiterate for the hundredth time that I do not want anyone bringing up ships on my non-shipping posts, unless you're a follower or friend who knows for a fact that I don't mind the ship in question. like I don't want to block people over this, but my ability to enjoy using this website is contingent on either people not doing this, or me aggressively curating my experience by blocking people over this. sorry but also not really.