ᯓᡣ𐭩 now you're really living like an adult now, you're not the golden child anymore. you find out what your friends want, you find out who you are; you find out you're not as strong as you thought you are .ᐟ

harvey had always thought he was better than this. above this. he was gotham's poster child; a face of hope in a sea of despair. now, look at him. a mangled mess. his face was still concealed beneath the bandages; he refused to take them off. was it out of cowardice or fear? perhaps both.

he was home, at least, if you could even call it that. mirrors shattered and broken in a rage, the lights off to conceal him in darkness. a bottle of bourbon, half empty, rested on the table beside him, his gaze settled nowhere in particular. everything was so different now; his mind, his body warped and new, complex and unable to be understood.

he hated this. hated himself. what was he supposed to do now? spend his days holed up in his home, hiding his disfigured face from gotham and it's people? his people? oh, they wished. if anything, his was even more of an opportunity for harvey. he'd show gotham his true colors; what a beast he really could be.

it was then, he decided, to show gotham true duality. no one was safe. not even you.