likerealpeople
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Aventurine looks away again, turning his head over his shoulder to try and breathe without having to meet Veritas' eyes to do it. He knows it's normal. Of course it's normal. He's heard all those ridiculous, cliched nicknames thrown around all his life. The "Darling"s, the "Love"s, the "Honey"s, everything. He's been called them himself, even, but never like this. Hearing "darling" pass so effortlessly from Veritas' lips, like it was no more special than the latte -- or, really, the coffee with warm milk -- that he had passed to him. It wasn't like the "sweetheart"s that have been tossed at him casually by overly-chummy clients or... the "precious"es that still come to haunt his dreams at times. This feels warmer. Realer. It's almost too much all at once and it's only two blasted words.
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Veritas tries bringing pet names into his relationship with Aventurine. It goes about as well as one could expect.
Bookmarked by likerealpeople
19 May 2025
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Xiao isn't a person. He hasn't been since he was five years old. He's a weapon of war, a killing machine. So even if he is that boy in the mural, the one with the mother god and the dragon, what does it matter. He'll never be that boy again. It's as accurate a reflection as a gravestone.
Bookmarked by likerealpeople
20 Jul 2024
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Joker is dead, and Bruce Wayne stands over his battered corpse.
Not Batman. Bruce Wayne, blood splattered on his Armani suit and fist still pale from when it had been clenched around Joker's hair, slamming his head one, two, three times against the ground.
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Bookmarked by likerealpeople
19 May 2024
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Graveyard mud, heavy and dark, clinging to a stained and torn suit. One shoe missing, a leg bent awkwardly and blood staining a bare foot.
Milk white skin beneath the mud, black hair hanging in muddy clumps around his ears. Blue eyes staring back at him, animal-bright and dilated in the brief moment before he flinches back from the light with a cry of pain that stabs through Jason to the soul.
His shaking hand closes around the flashlight before he can even think about it, cutting off the piercing beam and letting it spill out in shards between his fingers. For a petrifying moment as his eyes readjust, he’s sure that when he looks again, there will be nothing there.
“Tim?” he whispers.
The lean and ragged figure, tiny, god he’s so small, lowers his hands away from his face, away from his eyes wide and glittering almost silver in the moonlight.
Hands, mud-covered and torn. The red of his shredded fingernails is sickeningly dark in the broken light.
He’s vomiting before he even feels the bile making its way up his throat.
Day 30: DIGGING YOUR GRAVE
major character death | left for dead | ghostsSeries
- Part 11 of Whumptober 2021
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when doves cry by Scarlet_Ribbons for SilverSkiesAtMidnight
Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types
04 Jan 2023
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Tim is grateful Hood leaves promptly, in any case, because that means he doesn’t see Tim crawl the last few feet into his house.
[Jack and Janet die uneventfully— at the hands of a home intruder, at 3:41 in the morning on a Thursday. Two gunshots. Tim’s entire world comes to a screeching halt at 3:44, when he finds their bodies.]