Kaiathan



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    The Riddler halts. Pauses.

    “What the fuck, dude?” He finally exclaims, breaking all melodramatic pretenses and slamming his hands down on the table, “Either listen to the goddamn riddle or let me kill you so we can get this exchange over with!”

    Peter nods, “Sorry, sorry, my bad on that one. I finally remembered the word I was thinking of. Here, let’s make a deal this time - cross my heart I’ll keep it - so if I can’t solve your riddle you get to…” Peter gestures, leaving it open ended, and the Riddler seems to perk up.

    “Kill you in a blaze of glory,” he finishes, primly, and the melodrama returns as he crosses his legs and re-steeples his hands, “And if you win? I must be fair, after all.”

    “Uhh… would you mind telling me where I am?”

    OR

    Peter's greatest enemy is time management and also maybe the hoard of superheroes that are crawling all over Gotham.

     

    (The Amazing Spider-Man version of Peter Parker - don't have to watch the movies to understand, but there are references to the films.)

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    18 Dec 2025

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Team Red type beat with a splash of angst. Which I guess is redundant; the guys are all pretty well acquainted with being moody all the time. It's a hoot.

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    13 Dec 2025

  3. Public Bookmark 23

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    “Mr. Wayne,” she tried again, voice steadying. “Do you have any comment on the statistical correlation between your family’s accidents and major criminal incidents in Gotham?”

    Bruce’s eyes flicked toward her—sharp, calculating, faintly amused.

    “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

    “Oh, I think you do,” she said, before Greg could stop her. “The timing lines up exactly.” She flipped a page. “The night the Joker’s toxin was released in the East End? Tim Drake hospitalized for chemical exposure. The Riddler’s warehouse explosion? Dick Grayson, ‘parkour mishap.’ Scarecrow’s gas attack? Damian Wayne—”

    “—was poisoned by a salad,” Bruce interrupted, with the calm confidence of a man who’d rehearsed that line before.

    Marcia blinked. “…A salad.”

    “Yes,” Bruce said, utterly deadpan. “Kale. Terrible stuff.”

    Or, the Gotham Gazette runs a full feature on Wayne family injury excuses. Tim Drake “sleepwalked” into a rooftop katana fight. Jason Todd “fell into a historical reenactment.” Duke Thomas glows. The reporter loses her mind.

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    13 Dec 2025

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    The city changes in slow motion.

    He learns its alleys. Its fire escapes. Its shadows.

    It’s not Queens. But it doesn’t try to be.

    And that, he realizes one night while watching the moon rise over Crime Alley, is its kindness.

    Gotham doesn’t ask you to be okay.
    It doesn’t pretend to save you.
    It just gives you a place to fall apart.

    And the people—
    They’re sharper here. Scarred. Softer than they look.

    Tim lends him books he doesn’t finish.
    Damian insults his hair, then teaches him how to hold a katana.
    Dick teaches him how to fall without injury.
    Cass teaches him how to move without being seen.
    Jason teaches him how to aim—and how to miss on purpose.

    Or, grief is a second skin and Gotham is the only place it fits.

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    Language:
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    Words:
    34,967
    Chapters:
    6/6
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    12 Dec 2025

  5. Public Bookmark 49

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    It makes Kon want to rip himself out of the sky.

    Because he wasn’t there.

    When Tim buried him. When Tim stood at his grave. When Tim watched the sky and hoped and hoped and hoped until something in him broke.

    He wants to say, I never meant to die.

    He wants to say, I came back for you.

    But grief doesn’t care about intent.

    Grief is a house with no exits. And Tim Drake is stuck in the attic, cataloging every crack in the floorboards.

    Or, Tim builds walls from grief to survive, and Kon patiently breaks them down, piece by piece. Together, they learn what it means to stay and to love someone again.

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    1/1
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    13 Dec 2025