SmokedCashmere

skeletons embracing



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    “The Red Hood has been good for Gotham,” Robin continued. “Crime in Park Row decreased by sixty one percent almost as soon as you showed up, and that’s even taking into account all the crime you commit. Drug overdoses have decreased by twenty two percent in adults and seventy nine percent in minors. Homeless minors are ninety two percent less likely to—”

    “Kid,” Jason interrupted. “Enough statistics. What the hell is this about?”

    Robin slowly lowered the tablet with his powerpoint presentation and looked up at Red Hood.

    “You care about Gotham,” Robin summarised. “Gotham needs Batman. Batman is missing and so is Nightwing. We need you to fill in for Batman.”

    “You want me to cover Batman’s patrols?” Jason clarified.

    “No,” Robin said. “I want you to be Batman.”

    Jason bluescreened.

     

    (Or: Batman and Nightwing mysteriously disappear before Red Hood has even started antagonising them, Robin is desperate, Gotham needs Batman, and Red Hood is Batman-Shaped.)

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    07 Mar 2026

  2. Public Bookmark 4

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    19 Feb 2026

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    “Are you familiar with the concept of a memory palace?”

    “Yes, I employ one myself.”

    Holmes was buzzing with curiosity. “And where do you keep the monsters? In the basement or in the attic?”

    Hannibal smirked. “The kitchen.”

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    11 Feb 2026

  4. Public Bookmark 11

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    "Michael doesn't know why he runs. His chest is tight, heart pounding hard against his ribs, skin crawling and itching all over, and he wants, he wants, he wants. He doesn't know what he wants. He wants his father to look at him, he thinks. He wants everyone to look at him, face young and innocent on a thousand missing posters. He wants his father to cry for him and tell everyone how much he loved his son."

    Or, Michael envies the children his father kills. So, after he helps lure a victim, he gets in the way like Charlotte did.

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    02 Feb 2026

  5. Public Bookmark 33

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    ""What do you—" Mike says, and then realization hits him as Michael leisurely holds the bottle of pills aloft to inspect the label. "Put those down!"
    Michael's gaze snaps to him, lips curling slowly once again into a sick smile, but for some reason the look shining in his pale eyes this time makes any more words die in Mike's throat.
    "Father used to give us these," Michael says conversationally, rattling the bottle between his finger and thumb as if to assess how many are in there. "Loprazolam. Benzo tranquillizers, very effective."
    "They're for insomnia."
    "You don't have insomnia."
    "You don't know what the fuck I have.""

    Or, Michael takes a sudden interest in Mike's sleeping pills. Sleeping does, after all, sound quite nice.

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    29 Jan 2026