Real.

Real.

Me and commas liked each other too much in 7th grade, we couldn't be more than two words apart from each other.

also me and commas we don’t like each other

I just love it when video games let you do really stupid shit that kills you immediately. I love being like "oh this is a terrible idea" and being able to do it and then die. It's good game design.

Work with me here, if I just remove my glasses beforehand, would it be easier for me to hold eye contact with you?

Jason Todd doesn’t want to spend more time than he needs to at the manor. He’s there solely because Alfred asked for him; the less he saw of everyone else, the better. But, in retrospect, Jason thinks, spending hours in Bruce’s presence would be better than this – better than the supposed gift Alfred gave him. 

Piles and piles of letters you’d written him since his death now lay spread out across his bed. Some were borderline incoherent, and even the ones that weren’t rendered on incoherent halfway through, when you’d begin blaming yourself for not being able to help him, to heal him, how your powers failed you that day. 

He could tell you’d poured hours into these letters – never believing he’d ever read them. There was not a single letter that was free from having the ink smudged along the pages. 

Alfred’s words still haunted him. 

“There are recent ones in there as well. Even after they’d left Gotham, every month, without fail they’d arrive. It used to be more, but Dick talked to them. I thought you deserved to see them, they’re addressed to you after all.” 

Alfred was wrong. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve the hours of pain, love and remorse you’d probably put into writing these. Not when he believes he’s no longer the boy you once knew. But your words are forever imprinted in his mind. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

He’s sorry too, because right now, he’s too scared, too much of a coward he believes, to confront you. To explain what happened. 

So, instead, he will dissect your letters, every single thought you’ve had since his death, everything you were unable to tell him. He will memorise your penmanship, and the words that followed, till he can recall them from memory. You’re an unbending force, calling out to him, to reread your letters, and he will, as he waits for the next ones to arrive. 

And maybe, when his feelings build up, and it gets too much, he’ll take the leap and try to find you. He’s not ready to confront you, not yet, but he needs to see you, just once. So, instead, he’ll allow himself small mercies to see you, in his own way.  And if that means watching you through your window as you pen your next letter, or tracking your movements during the day, then so be it. One day, he hopes, he can write back to you. 

You’re sorry you couldn’t say goodbye, he’s sorry for not giving you the chance to. 

speedycheesecakething is a scammer

thank you so much for letting me now, I have since removed the post