My taste in men is absurd. (Not actually-)
I think Ozzie from absolute Batman is fine.😫
thanks for ur collaboration on my twitter post to theorize how hairy bruce was. a thesis with credits will be published soon
Face your sins.William Afton.
There we go there's the one Springtrap fanart to represent me for the next few years. Redraw of a pic that's now lost on an old blog from 2017
You know how it goes. Jason steps out of the Lazarus Pit. He becomes Red Hood. He hates Bruce. It's the same story. A thousand universes reflecting the same events.
Jason walked back to his apartment, throwing his costume on the floor. He takes of that suffocating helmet, sighing in relief as his forehead feels the cool air. With four fingers, he comes his bangs out of the way.... and freezes.
Bruce used to do that.
After patrol, when him and Batman got back to the Manor, Bruce would take off his helmet, and comb his hair out of his face with his fingers.
Jason gets annoyed, muttering about how it's just a coincidence, and how he couldn't be anything like his "father". But in the next couple weeks, Jason keeps noticing more and more. The way he throws his hands to up stretch while still sitting, the sound of his morning voice, even the way he liked his coffee.
Even... even the mirror started to betray him.
Jason always thought he would age, grow old with someone. But the lines under his eyes, the small curl of his cheekbone, even the grim line he set his mouth, they looked like Bruce. And for hours, he couldn't look away.
Jason stopped looking at mirrors after that. His eyes afar on any reflected surface. He tried getting his hair back to being red, but whatever dye went into the Lazarus Pit didn't come off. Even his body started betraying him. Rough hands, muscles, the same shoulder problems.
He was a walking copy. A twin. A mimic.
A paradox of himself.
Anytime he would accidently catch his reflection he would wince in pain before blinking it out. The last time he made a mistake like that, Jason broke the mirror, all the shards falling onto the counter, into the sink. His knuckles were red and bloodied, and even in the shards he saw fragments of the man he despised.
"What did I do? What did I do to deserve all this?" He yelled angrily, clutching the sides of the sink, fingers white.
The shards of glass did nothing, his fractured reflection gleaming off of their surfaces.
Inspired by "Like Him" - Tyler, The Creator