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neferaskingdom · 1 month ago

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♡ From Podiums to Playpens | LN4 & OP81

Pairing: Lando Norris & Oscar Piastri [Purely Platonic]

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Summary: Lando and Oscar’s lives take a wild turn when an unexpected baby crash-lands at their doorstep. With zero parenting skills and all the wrong instincts, they bumble through diaper disasters and frantic calls, discovering that the only thing harder than winning a Grand Prix is keeping a tiny human alive! [Accidental Baby Acquisition]

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A/N: Inspired by the fanart @mecachrome did of Oscar and Lando holding the baby, though this is exactly the opposite of what happened in the artwork 😝. Also I can't confirm if this will have a part 2 or not so sorry to everyone in advance for that and the cringey song at the end 🫠.

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check out my other works: Masterlist

Oscar Piastri had a problem. A big, life-altering, scream-inducing problem.

He was many things: a rising Formula 1 star, a recent Monaco resident, and a man who liked things calm and orderly. What he was not, however, was someone equipped to handle finding a baby on his doorstep.

Yet, here he was.

At 8:00 AM, standing in the doorway of his new Monaco apartment, staring at a very real, very giggly baby girl bundled in pink. She was nestled in a stroller beside what looked like a mountain of baby supplies, completely oblivious to the fact that she’d just detonated Oscar’s entire sense of normalcy.

He stared blankly at the tiny human swaddled in pink, her wide, curious eyes blinking up at him as she gurgled happily in her stroller. His brain was stuck in neutral, wheels spinning but going absolutely nowhere. There was a baby on his doorstep, and not in a cute, ‘aww, how nice’ way. This was in the ‘what fresh hell is this?!’ kind of way.

Oscar re-read the note attached to the stroller for the tenth time.

Dear Tim, I’m leaving the country. You can take care of Amelie now. She’s your daughter too. Good luck. —Evelyn

Oscar blinked, reread the note, then blinked some more. “Tim? Who the hell is Tim?!”

This was not Oscar’s baby. Oscar had no babies. Babies did not spontaneously appear in Formula 1 drivers’ lives, certainly not on doorsteps. But there she was, this tiny little bundle of chaos just... chilling. Like she was meant to be there, like this was her grand entrance into his thoroughly unprepared life.

Panic hit Oscar like a sledgehammer. He paced in frantic circles, one hand on his phone and the other on his head, like physically holding onto his hair would stop his brain from leaking out of his ears.

He needed backup. No, he needed a miracle.

Oscar frantically dialed the only person dumb enough to know what to do in a situation like this: Lando Norris.

The phone barely rang twice before Lando picked up, sounding as annoyingly chipper as ever. “Hey, Osc! What’s up?”

“There’s a baby on my doorstep.”

There was silence on the other end.

“...What?”

“A baby. There is a living, breathing baby. On. My. Doorstep.”

Lando laughed, but not the good kind of laugh, the kind that suggested he thought Oscar was messing with him. “Mate, what? You sure it’s not a prank? Did someone send you one of those doll things? Is it like, a fan thing?”

“I’m not joking, Lando! There’s a real baby with a note that says I’m supposed to take care of her. Only, I’m not Tim. I don’t even know who Tim is! She’s right here, staring at me. What do I do?!”

Lando, clearly suppressing laughter, said, “Okay, okay, calm down. I’m on my way. Hold the fort, mate.”

“Hurry!” He said, squatting down, staring at the baby like she was a ticking time bomb, ready to explode into tears, vomit, or... whatever babies did. “Please don’t cry,” he whispered. “I’m not built for this.”

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Twenty minutes (that felt like twenty years) later, Lando burst through the door with all the grace of a caffeinated squirrel, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Where’s this mystery baby? Let me see the little rascal!” Lando scanned the apartment and spotted the baby, his face lighting up like it was Christmas morning. “Oh my God, look at her! She’s so tiny!”

Lando immediately dropped to his knees and scooped up Amelie without hesitation, hoisting her into the air like she was Simba from The Lion King. “Aw, hi, Milly!”

“Milly?” Oscar repeated, a horrified expression plastered on his face. “You already named her?”

“Amelie’s too formal for a baby, don’t you think?” Lando said, casually ignoring Oscar’s panicked state. He bounced Milly in his arms, pulling silly faces at her. “See? She loves me.”

Oscar stared at him in disbelief. “Lando, focus! We need a plan! We’re not renaming the baby; we’re getting her out of here!”

Milly just let out a joyful giggle, tiny fists batting at Lando’s face. Oscar’s eyes widened in horror as Lando juggled the baby like a sack of flour, his nerves stretched thinner by the second. “Lando, stop! You’re gonna drop her! Babies are fragile!”

“Nah, she’s tough. Look at her! Strong grip. Good potential for karting,” Lando said, wiggling his fingers in front of Milly’s face. “Who’s a future world champion, huh? You are!”

Oscar grabbed the back of the couch like it was his last lifeline to sanity. “This is insane. We’re not keeping her. We need to call someone. Her real dad. Where the hell is Tim?!”

“Oh, relax,” Lando waved a hand dismissively, “it’s just babysitting for a few hours. How hard can it be? The mom even dropped off all the supplies we might need!”

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Turns out, it was really fucking hard

By midday, the chaos had reached DEFCON 1. Lando had somehow managed to knock over a stack of baby formula cans in the kitchen while Oscar was trying to decipher the instructions on how to make a bottle.

“This says... 50ml of water for every scoop of formula,” Oscar muttered, staring at the weird spoon-thing. “But how big is the scoop? What the hell is a scoop measurement?”

Lando, who was now wearing Milly in a baby carrier that he had insisted on trying out, leaned over the counter and squinted at the instructions. “It’s like... a baby science experiment. Just add more water, it’ll balance out.”

“That’s not how science works, Lando!”

“Sure it is!” Lando grinned, opening the microwave to heat the bottle, but then proceeded to accidentally set it for five minutes instead of thirty seconds. How someone even manages to do that Oscar will never know.

Inevitably the bottle exploded.

Milk sprayed everywhere, coating the inside of the microwave in an unholy mess. Oscar screamed. “What did you do?!”

“I thought that’s how long babies need it!” Lando yelped, staring in horror at the milk-splosion.

Milly, blissfully unaware of the carnage, was happily chewing on one of Lando’s shirt buttons.

Oscar stared at the ceiling, praying for strength. “We are going to kill this baby. We’re going to accidentally kill her.”

Lando, ever the optimist, patted Oscar on the back. “Nah, babies are resilient. They’ve got, like, soft heads, right? So they can handle stuff.”

“That’s the opposite of what soft heads mean, Lando!”

Lando grabbed a spoon and casually scooped up some of the spilled milk, giving it a taste. “Hmm. Tastes weird.”

“STOP EATING THE BABY’S MILK, LANDO!”

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After the bottle fiasco, they decided to tackle diaper duty. Or rather, Oscar decided, while Lando found new and creative ways to not help. At one point, Lando was making airplane noises with Milly’s pacifier while Oscar sat cross-legged on the floor, furiously Googling “how to change a diaper without gagging.”

“This can’t be that hard,” Lando said confidently, grabbing a diaper and attempting to strap it onto Milly’s squirming body. He failed. Multiple times.

“You’re putting it on backwards,” Oscar muttered, half in disbelief.

“Am I? Wait, which side is the front?”

Oscar was too stressed to even respond, choosing instead to help flip the diaper the right way around. But Milly had other ideas. She kicked her tiny legs, laughing as both boys fumbled with the diaper tabs.

After several failed attempts and at least two accidental kicks to Oscar’s face, they stood back and admired their work. The diaper was barely holding together, half askew and duct-taped in place because Lando thought duct tape “solved all problems.”

Oscar looked like he was on the verge of a mental breakdown. “We duct-taped a baby.”

“She seems cool with it!” Lando pointed at Milly, who was now rolling around happily in her makeshift duct tape diaper. “Duct tape solves everything!”

Oscar grabbed his phone. “This is not sustainable. I need to call someone. We can’t keep doing this. I need to find Tim.”

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Several hours later, after a very frustrating call with his real estate agent, Oscar finally got a number for Tim—the previous tenant, who, as it turns out, had moved to America.

Oscar punched in the number, already bracing himself for the nightmare conversation ahead. Lando sat cross-legged on the floor, Milly in his lap, reading her a book that was upside down?

Tim picked up after a few rings, his voice groggy and irritated. “Hello?”

Oscar wasted no time. “Timothy?! It’s Oscar. I live in your old apartment in Monaco. Listen, there’s a baby here. Your baby. Evelyn dropped her off with a note and now she’s... well, she’s here, with us. What do we do?!”

There was a brief silence, followed by a sound like a man whose soul had just left his body. “Oh, fuck,” Tim groaned. “Evelyn left her? Again?”

“Again?!” Oscar sputtered. “This is a thing that she does? she just goes around... leaving the baby lying around like a sack of potatoes?”

Tim let out a frustrated sigh. “Listen, man, I’m in New York, okay? I got stuck with this job, corporate America’s been eating me alive. I’m lucky if I can get ten minutes of daylight. I haven’t even unpacked yet and now you’re telling me Evelyn just dropped Amelie off without a heads-up?”

Oscar’s jaw was clenched so tight he thought his teeth might crack. “She didn’t just drop her off—she basically abandoned her and ran! What am I supposed to do with her? I’m a Formula 1 driver, not... not a babysitter!”

Lando, overhearing this, piped up helpfully, “We duct-taped her diaper! Worked like a charm.”

Tim screeched on the other end. “You what?”

“Look, it was either that or she’d be laying around butt naked,” Oscar said, rubbing his temples as he paced. “Focus! I need you to come back and get her, like, now. Please.”

“Man, I wish I could!” Tim sounded frantic now, as if the weight of the universe had just been dumped on him. “But I’m up to my neck in work! I’ve got back-to-back meetings, deadlines, projects—I can’t just hop on a plane!”

“Are you kidding me right now? You can’t just leave your baby with two random blokes! What kind of corporate job is this? Are they holding you hostage?”

Tim let out a sarcastic laugh. “Oh yeah, might as well be! Thanks, late-stage capitalism. I’m chained to a desk, and Evelyn’s probably off somewhere sipping cocktails while you two... duct-tape diapers together?!” He sounded like he was spiraling. “Why is my life like this?”

Oscar was losing his grip on sanity. “What are we supposed to do, Tim? We’re trying here, but we can’t even heat up a bottle without blowing up the microwave! She’s going to be in worse shape than we are if this keeps up!”

Tim let out an exasperated groan. “You think I’m not freaking out here? I don’t want to leave her with you two! But I can’t do anything about it! I’ll have to talk to my boss, and that’ll take days—corporate policies, you know how it is.”

Oscar slumped against the wall. “Tim, I swear to God, if you don’t get on a plane soon, Lando will start raising her to be the next world champion, she’ll probably know more about tire degradation than I do by the time you’re back!”

Tim started to ramble, sounding more unhinged by the second. “Oh, I’m gonna kill Evelyn. I swear, if I ever make it out of this job alive, I’m flying back just to wring her neck. She’s gonna pay for this, and I’m gonna—”

Oscar interrupted him, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Tim, focus! Just tell us what to do. You’re the dad, for God’s sake!”

“I DON’T KNOW!” Tim practically shrieked, his voice going full meltdown mode. “Change her, feed her, keep her alive! That’s all I’ve got. Just... just don’t screw it up!”

“Don’t screw it up?!” Oscar was losing his mind. “That’s your parenting advice?”

Tim sighed heavily. “Look, I’ll try to get there as soon as I can. Maybe two weeks, tops. In the meantime, you’re it. You’re her only hope.”

Oscar stared at the phone, incredulous. “Two weeks?!”

“Yeah, yeah, two weeks. You’ve got this, man,” Tim said hurriedly, like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone. “You’re a driver. You’re adaptable. Just, uh, adapt to... fatherhood.”

Oscar hung up, staring blankly at Lando, who was now trying to teach Milly how to fist bump.

“So... what did he say?” Lando asked, not looking up from Milly’s tiny fist.

Oscar felt like his life was spiraling out of control. “He’s not coming back for two weeks.”

Lando, completely unbothered, grinned. “So… we’re keeping her?”

Oscar buried his face in his hands. “We are not keeping her. This is temporary. I am not a dad, and I’m not about to become one!”

Lando shrugged, giving Milly a finger to grab. “Relax, Osc. It’s just babysitting. We’ve got this.”

Oscar collapsed onto the couch, defeated. “We’re screwed.”

Lando grinned, still blissfully optimistic. “Nah, we got this. How hard can it be?”

Famous last words.

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By the time evening rolled around, Oscar was teetering on the edge of a complete nervous breakdown. His hair stuck out in every direction, dark circles framed his eyes, and he was sporting the look of a man who had seen too much in one day. Meanwhile, across the room, Lando was in his own little world, completely oblivious to the chaos he had helped create.

“Please fall asleep,” Oscar muttered, his head in his hands as he slumped into the couch. He shot a pleading glance at Milly, who was, of course, still wide awake, her big eyes blinking up at him like she was in on the joke. “Please, I am begging you.”

Milly giggled in response, showing no signs of slowing down. If anything, she seemed to be gaining more energy as the night went on. And Lando, ever the optimist, had decided the solution to everything was a lullaby.

A lullaby that had nothing to do with actual lullabies and everything to do with... Formula 1.

“Alright, alright,” Lando said, grinning like this was the best night of his life. He cradled Milly in his arms, swaying back and forth like some deranged nanny. “You wanna hear a song, Milly? ‘Course you do.”

Oscar groaned into his hands. “Lando, for the love of God, just—”

Too late. Lando had already kicked into full performance mode, belting out a song so chaotic and nonsensical it would’ve made any sane adult bash their head into the wall

“♪ Ohhh, race cars and pit stops, Tires go screech, engines go vroom! Zoom around the track, don’t look back, Lap time’s dropping, we’re gonna attack! ♪”

He bounced Milly with every line, and to Oscar’s absolute horror, she loved it. She giggled like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard, her little fists grabbing onto Lando’s shirt as if demanding more.

Oscar rubbed his temples harder, as if somehow massaging his skull would stop the growing headache. “Why are you like this?”

But Lando was in the zone, not stopping for anything. He twirled in a circle with Milly, who was now laughing uncontrollably and continued the absolute madness.

“♪ Pit lane’s calling, gotta switch the tires! Box, box, baby, we’re dodging all the fires! Fuel up quick, no time to chill, We’re racing to bedtime, going in for the kill! ♪”

Oscar looked on, his mind unraveling. This wasn’t a lullaby. This was... some kind of fever dream. Lando, still dancing around the living room like he was in a one-man musical, clearly had no idea how to get babies to sleep.

“Lando,” Oscar said through gritted teeth, “she’s supposed to be winding down, not revving up!”

Lando shot him a cheeky grin. “It’s working, mate. Look at her. She’s loving it!”

Milly squealed in delight, grabbing onto Lando’s face and pulling at his cheeks, while Lando just kept on singing like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“♪ Final lap, we’re almost there, Through the checkered flag, feel the air! Who needs sleep when you’re almost a winner?

We’re gonna celebrate with a chicken dinner! ♪”

Oscar could only groan in despair as Lando finished with an overly dramatic spin, still holding Milly like she was some kind of victory trophy. She clapped her tiny hands together, thoroughly entertained, while Oscar’s sanity crumbled just a little more.

Lando grinned as he plopped down on the couch next to Oscar, baby Milly perched on his knee like a royal princess. “See? We’ve got this.”

Oscar’s eye twitched. “Lando. Why do you keep saying that?”

Lando shrugged, completely at ease. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Oscar stared at him, wide-eyed, as if trying to mentally telepathize all of the worst possible things that could happen, starting with the fact that they were two twenty-something Formula 1 drivers responsible for a baby for the next two weeks.

Milly, still very much not asleep, gurgled happily and slapped Lando’s cheek, clearly delighted by the chaos she had caused.

Oscar leaned back on the couch, staring at the ceiling in defeat. “I’m not going to get a single second of sleep these two weeks, am I?”

Lando beamed at him, completely unfazed. “Nope. Welcome to fatherhood, mate.”

Oscar groaned and pulled a cushion over his face, muffling his scream as Milly giggled uncontrollably at his suffering.

This was going to be the longest two weeks of his life.

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jasmines-library · 1 year ago

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Lazarus Rising

WHUMPTOBER DAY 27: Prompt ‘scars’

Fandom: Batfam

Summary: after an accident takes your life, your brothers manage to find a way to bring you back. But it leaves you with a set of prominent scars that you struggle to come to terms with. But your brothers are there to help you realise that you are beautiful just the way you are.

Warnings: Death, description of wounds and scars, self hate.

Word count: 1.6k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

It was a nasty accident.

An accident that had cost you your life. Your brothers had raced towards you, trying to haul the debris from the exploded building off of your body, but they were too late. You were dead. Still chest, blank stare, stone cold dead.

For a while, no one dared to move as Bruce cradled your bloody body. Not one of the boys attempted to hide the tears that rolled down their cheeks as you lay there devoid life in a pool of your own blood. The shrapnel had embedded itself if your back, and had sliced into other parts of your skin. You could see from the gash on your hand and on your cheek where you had tried to protect your face in vain.

The sight made Damian queasy and so he was the first to turn away, trying to burry the thought that he would never see the way you smiled with your eyes or simply hear your voice again.

Jason was the last to move. Long After Bruce had hauled your body away and his older brother had tried to pull him away gently by wrapping a strong arm around him. But all he could do was stare blankly at the crimson that stained the ground. It should have been him. He was the one who was supposed to be on patrol that night. But he bunked off and you took his place instead. His stomach knotted, tightening around him like a noose. He promised himself that he was going to find a way to bring you back.

And he did.

He didn’t want to tell his brothers what he was trying to do at first. But they caught on quickly after Jason was unable to hide the dark bags under his eyes any longer and they threatened to tell Bruce if he didn’t let up.

They were hesitant at first, but soon the four of them spent their free time delving into books and research. For a short while, their efforts seemed in vain and there were more frustrated sighs drifting across the room than words. But in one glorious moment, the words finally floated into Jason’s ears.

“The Lazarus pit.” He read from the screen what illuminated his small face in the dark. He had managed to find it after getting in contact with his mother and wracking his brain for something she had accidentally mentioned in passing. Talia was reluctant at first, but with Damian’s charm she was quick to give in. “My mother knows where it is. We can bring y/n back but…”

Tim, who had crowded round his little brother squinted. “But what?”

“She’s not going to be the same. The pit it-

It messes with your mind. And it might not work at all… there’s a time frame.”

Jason shook his head and pulled on his coat. “It’s better than nothing.”

The four of them carried your body gently towards the swirling green liquid. The pit was hidden in some sort of cave that had been dug out into some sort of lab.

“So this is it, huh?” Dick asked as they lay you down gently next to the pit. He could hardly bring himself to look at you. Your beauty was still obscured by the nasty gash that still hadn’t closed. He was so gentle as he manoeuvred your fragile body, as though just his fingers grazing along your cold skin would hurt you.

“Yeah.” Tim sighed.

“Keep your guard up. We don’t know how she’s going to react when she wakes up. She might be scared and confused.” Headed Damian who had practically recited his mother's words after committing them to memory.

There was little else said as they eased your body into the green liquid, watching as you floated just below the surface. It didn’t take long for the chemicals to take effect, stitching your skin back together and bringing more structure back to your bones and more life back to your skin.

Suddenly, you sat up with a gasp, flailing and splashing the substance of the edge of the pool as you dragged yourself out of it. Your clothes clung sticky to your skin. Your eyes were wide and didn’t settle on anything long before they were darting to the next thing and the next after that.

When Tim reached out to you your instincts kicked in, and you gripped his hand to flung him over your shoulder which caused him to let out a grunt as he collided with the stone.

Your mind was racing at a million miles an hour. You were scared. You didn’t know where you were or why every inch of your body was drenched in a dull but persistent ache.

“Y/n?”

You froze calming down for just one brief moment. You knew that voice and its gentle lilt. It was a voice you could picture a face with. Dark haired with stern eyes, but behind the facade was really a gentle boy with a soft spot for his little sister. You turned, tilting your head at the boy.

“Jason?”

You couldn’t bear to glance in the mirror anymore because they were all your gaze could settle on. Pale and spidering the scars crawled up your back and along your neck to your cheek. The pit had worked to some extent and although your mind was seemingly recovering and readjusting, the pit had failed to completely heal your skin, leaving a scar in its wake. Damian said it was something to do with the time scale. Something to do with the fact that the Lazarus put worked better on the dead the shorter they had passed.

You still couldn’t quite come to terms with that word. Dead. It sat in your mind like a weed. No matter how many times you plucked it, it always wormed its way back through the cracks.

For the first few weeks of being back at the manor, you spent a lot of your time trying to cover up the angry lines. The ones on your back were easy enough. You had just resorted to wearing a hoodie. Usually one of the boys’. They gave you a sense of comfort. But after a while, you began to miss wearing your own clothes. You missed being able to express yourself without it feeling wrong. So, there you were, standing in front of your full length mirror in your favorite top, staring at the scar.

There was a soft knock on the door before it peeled open, whining on its hinges and Jason saw you standing there. He couldn’t help the small grin that ebbed onto his lips.

You immediately tried to cover yourself. “Get out.”

“I-“ Jason didn’t want to move. He often feared that it he took his eyes off of you for too long then you would vanish again. Which meant that he was checking in on you much to your dismay. He was so proud of how far you had come in just a few short weeks. “You look beautiful, y/n.”

You recoiled. What? “Jason. Don’t look at them.”

You were about to pull on a hoodie when Damian’s voice peeped round the corner. He had grown impatient and set off with Tim to drag you to movie night. Dick went with them too, unable to shake his worry. Since you came back the four of them were constantly on edge, even if they didn’t care to admit it. “Is she coming or- whoa.”

Tim nearly squealed at the sight of you. “I thought I’d never see that top again.”

Your skin flushed as you sank down onto you bed.

“All of you. Out.”

“Why?” Damian implored.

“Because…I don’t like people looking at them. They’re disgusting.”

“Why the hell would you think that?” Jason was practically outraged at your words.

You couldn’t help it when your eyes brimmed with tears and your voice wavered. “Look at them, Jay!”

“I don’t see anything wrong with them.” Dick shrugged coming to sit next to you. “Do you?”

The rest of your brothers shook their heads.

You gave him a look.

Dick rolled up his top to reveal a long scar along his solar plexus. “Do you see anything wrong with this one?” He asked. Jason then pulled up the hem of his red top and shifted round on the mattress to show you the ones that littered his back. They were pinkish and resembled various different shapes. Or those?”

You shook your head. “No…it’s just. They’re everywhere.”

“So? They’re beautiful y/n. You’re beautiful. Does having a scar make Jason any less of a person that he was before?” Tim asked. You shook your head meekly. “Your scars don’t define you. No matter how much you think they do. You’re still the same gentle girl you were before.”

“Besides,” Damian chimed, “I think they’re really cool. Like lightning.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that thought. Your brothers always had a way of bringing light to a dark situation. It was just something that they did; they helped without thinking no matter the cost. You were glad to have them by your side, even if they did get a little annoying at times.

Although it took a little while, and a bucket-load of tears, your slowly began to embrace the scars. You began to express yourself in new ways that you hadn’t done before. In ways that brought a beaming grin to your face. And to your brothers. They were unbelievably proud and their hearts swelled. But it was one thing that you had learnt that really stuck out to you. That they loved you, just the way you were.

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 26 ⛤ DAY 28 ->

Taglist:

@deans-spinster-witch

@senjoritanana

@amaryllis23

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goldfish-thief · 16 days ago

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hi hello this made my brain explode on halloween night here’s the robins and their respective best friends as ghibli couples 💥💥💥

dick & wally: THE QUINTESSENTIAL DARK HAIR AND REDHEAD DUO gotta be kiki & tombo from kiki’s delivery service. also it fits them bc kiki is very dismissive of tombo at first but then really warms up to him and eventually risks herself in order to save his life. yup. yup. abd NO this isn’t just bc my best friend and i were dressed as kiki and tombo (also if they ever dressed up together when they were little these fucks woukdve made an ADORABLE ponyo and sosuke)

jason & roy: sheeta & pazu from castle in the sky. the two of them save the entire world by purely relying on one another. also pazu is such a respectable little guy and i think roy would fuck with him heavy

tim & kon: sophie and howl? sophie and howl. i feel it is unnecessary to even explain myself. just look at them. i will however add that they would make a FLAWLESS chihiro and haku. like. rorf. just think abt it, i need to write that.

damian & jon: do i even need to say ashitaka & san or could we all just figure that out for ourselves?

“I’ll cut your throat! That’ll shut you up!”

“You’re beautiful.”

crazy how that movie is about jondami

BYE. 💥

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10piecechickenmcnugget · 1 day ago

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(hi chat. i wrote a fic about oli cameo-ing in wild life. it’s about 1k words. lizzie jimmy and scar are in it. it gets a little sad. i hope you enjoy it)

Oli snickered at the absolutely dumbfounded expression currently being given to him by none other than Jimmy Solidarity.

“Hiya Tim. Did you miss me?”

Jimmy continued to stare with his jaw halfway to the void. “What- you- you’re not- how are you here?”

Oli just grins, sitting back and crossing his legs with what he hopes is an annoyingly smug expression. Judging by the way Jimmy’s eyes flash, it’s working.

“I’m just that special. Being practically god and all, I thought I should pay a visit to my sweet sweet boy.” Oli waves a hand, tilting his head. Jimmy looks cute when he’s confused.

“Does Grian know you’re here?”

Oli grins. “Who do you think invited me?”

If Jimmy wasn’t in shock before, he certainly is now. “Grian. Brought you. Here. To his death games.”

Oli swings his legs absently. “Someone had to write a song for that little trivia bot. 2 of them, actually. In one day. Not sure how I pulled that one off, not to mention the snails.”

Jimmy dissolves into a fit of nonsensical babbling, and Oli can’t help but it burst into laughter again. While Jimmy processes this, Oli decides it’s about time he takes a look around. He hops off the block he’s sitting on, spinning around slowly to take in Jim’s base.

It’s cutesy, he decides, and almost painfully familiar. The cherry theming, the hilltop location, the giant animal statues. It always comes back to death and canaries, somehow. Oli can’t figure out how Jimmy keeps getting away with this. He walks slowly, dramatically sweeping around to take everything in. Listening to cherry petals shift under his feet and trying to drown out the phantom sound of explosions in his head. Jimmy has stopped talking, and is staring at him as he wanders. Oli flashes him a smile. Jim just looks apprehensive.

Oli doesn’t blame him. He’s not supposed to be here, even by Grian’s standards. And mathematically, Oli has an infinite amount of kills per death games he’s been in. He’s not a player, and as such he can’t die. He’s immune to Grian’s wildcards and rules. He’s practically a god, in a way, which is not really something he’s ever experienced. It would be more fun if he was allowed to stay. Maybe he can write another song.

Deciding there isn’t much more to look at, Oli turns fully to Jimmy. It’s uncomfortably quiet. Oli is about to make another quip when the silence is broken.

“Oli? What on earth are you doing here?”

If Oli thought seeing Jimmy messed with his head, hearing Lizzie calling out for him is like a shot to the brain. Even so, he can’t help but smile as he turns around to meet her.

“Lizzie!”

She runs up the hill towards him, slightly out of breath, transparent wings twitching in an all too familiar way. She pauses a few paces away, shooting him a grin.

“I knew those stupid snails sounded familiar. Joel recognized you first. How did you even get here?”

Pretending the mention of Joel doesn’t make him want to explode, Oli just shrugs. “Grian invited me. Voiced some snails, made some songs, and thought I’d come by and cause problems before he kicks me out again.”

Lizzie rolls her eyes. “To be honest, I’m surprised he hasn’t.”

“Well, I am technically God now, so…”

“Is that right.” Smoothing out her dress, Lizzie moves closer, forming a small triangle with the three of them. Jimmy still looks befuddled and Lizzie has that same mischievous glint in her eyes she always does, and Oli is suddenly very homesick. Is that even the right word? Home is where the heart is, or something.

“Yep! 100%, genuine, certified, bona fide God. Can’t die, and my snails wreaked havoc like none other.”

“You’ve got me there.”

“So,” Oli claps his hands together. “This is your guys’s base? Very cherry-esque. Draw inspiration from anyone?”

Lizzie puts her hands on her hips. “Hey! Pink has been my thing since we were kids. Cherry biomes were made for me. I’ve been making cherry wood houses since before your stupid hog.”

“How dare you!” Oli gasps, putting a hand over his chest. “My hog was not stupid, he was magnificent. And pink was my thing too! I had pink hair for a while there, remember?”

“Yeah, cause of me! I’m the only reason you dye your hair at all! And besides, you don’t even die it pink anymore after-”

Lizzie cuts herself off suddenly, eyes wide, and Oli freezes in place. Jimmy looks taken aback by the sudden tension, looking nervously between the two of them.

After what feels like years, Oli exhales. “… Yeah. Alright. Pink is your thing.”

“Oli…”

Oli turns around suddenly, walking purposefully towards the large birds marking the front of their base. He adjusts the little green halo floating just above his hair, which is notably not pink. “These are cute.”

Lizzie, forever hyperaware of Oli’s incessant need to avoid his problems, just sighs. “Aren’t they?”

And just like that, it never even happened. Jimmy eventually realizes he’s never getting any answers, and joins in the banter, helping Lizzie take Oli on an official tour of their base. Eventually Scar returns, resulting in a 20 minute long argument that ends with Lizzie half dragging Oli down the hill and towards the cave BAM has claimed as their own. Lizzie bitterly shows him where her snail first made an attempt on her life, and Oli’s apology is ruined by the fact that he can’t stop snickering.

Eventually Lizzie drags him back up to the surface, and all too fast for Oli’s liking it’s nightfall. Scar unhelpfully comments that they’ll need their sleep to deal with whatever horrors will happen next session, and that Grian will probably be on Oli’s case soon.

Reluctantly, Oli says his goodbyes. And if he hugs Lizzie just a little too long, she doesn’t comment on it. And if his heart isn’t quite in the jokes he makes at Jimmy’s expense, no one says anything.

He doesn’t really know where he’s going. He’s not entirely sure how he got there at all, to be honest. He supposes he’ll have to track down Grian and ask. He doesn’t want to leave, he’s getting awfully tired of finally finding his friends just to lose them again.

Maybe Grian will add him to the next season.

#10piecetalks #10piecewrites #haven’t used that tag in a hot second #theorionsound #oli theorionsound #jimmy solidarity #solidarity gaming #solidaritygaming #ldshadowlady #lizzie ldshadowlady #goodtimeswithscar #gtwscar #very slight olidarity teasing #also very slight empires and sos references cause i’ve got autism #wild life smp #wild life #life series #trafficblr #grian is mentioned

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clockwayswrites · 2 years ago

Text

Like Betta Fish Do- Part 3

Masterpost of ao3 link and all parts. wc: 1263

“Sorry for intruding on your haunt! Total accident. Please don’t disembowel me. Sorry again,” Dick read off the card that had been tucked into the gift basket. He glanced from the card, to the rest of the assembled batclan, and back to the card in confusion.

Of course Dick had insisted on coming with Jason to check over Crime Alley. Of course when they found the basket Dick had insisted on bringing it back to the Cave to be tested for poisons—

“They’re bathbombs, who’s going to fucking poison bathbombs.”

“We’ve seen weirder, Jaybird.”

—and so of course the whole family was there now.

Before Dick had even let them move the basket, he checked it out for basic booby traps. (To be fair, this was the first thing Jason did too.) Once the basked had been to the Cave, it was checked over, again, by various Bats. Then, Tim had taken all the contents to run a chemical analysis on the chocolate and bathbombs (seriously, who poisons bathbombs?). And finally, Bruce gave the all clear on examining the basket itself.

Dick had snagged the little card out of it’s little envelope before Jason could even make a grab for it and read off the message. “’Please don’t disembowel me’? What the fuck, Jason.”

Jason raised his hands up with a shrug. “Don’t ask me. Sure, ‘please don’t behead me’ I could get—” he ignored the slight flinch that caused from Tim and Bruce— “But pretty sure word has gotten around that killing isn’t really my sort of MO anymore.”

Thankfully the computer beeped before they could get into all that.

Again.

Tim read over the results before announcing, “Report came back clean on everything.”

“Huh.” Dick seemed actually surprised by that. Jason was feeling really fucking done with his family.

“Perhaps a chemical inside the bathbombs that will explode when exposed to water?” Damian suggested.

Really fucking done.

“We do all get how messed up it is that your brains go there, right?” Duke asked. (Duke might be Jason’s favorite at the moment.)

“Can’t be that,” Tim said, ignoring Duke’s comment about their mental stability with practiced ease. “I took a sample core all the way to the center. It really is just a basket with bathbombs and some chocolate.”

“Sweet,” Stephanie said as she made a lunge for the box of chocolates. Jason quickly pulled the basket and its contents out of reach.

“Back off, it’s my gift,” Jason said with a snarl that was only half for show. As much as he had calmed back down, he still felt tense— like there was a heavy weight in the center of his chest.

Damian gave him a wholly unimpressed look. “Why? Do you deserve it for, and I quote, not disemboweling someone?”

“I mean, I haven’t,” Jason said with a shrug as he grabbed his helmet; the gift basket was tucked securely under the other arm.

“Jason, we have to talk about this,” Bruce said in that tone of his; the one that implied Jason was making a stupid mistake. The one he always seemed to have—

Jason shook the thoughts away. He didn’t need to tempt the Pit today by doing down that path. He could feel that green tinged anger lurking on the edge of his mind already. He kept heading to his bike. If he got out of here, the temptation to pick a fight would go away. He knew that. He just had to make the choice to walk away from the fight. “Fuck no. Look. I’ll check my system and put up new cameras or some shit, okay?”

The footage on every camera he had up around the exterior of his apartment had either shown nothing at all or had glitched out into a fuzz of static. There had been someone at his door— a slight person, dark clothing— but that's as much detail as they could get. Which was, sure, concerning, but seemed like no harm no foul. (Not that the rest of the family agreed with that assessment.)

“I’ll bring over some better cameras in a few days and check through your system,” Tim said, already turning his attention to the task.

Jason didn’t want that.

He didn’t want anyone else messing with his system. But he was starting to understand that having his hands on the information of his family was Tim’s way of showing he cared. Jason hated it, but he understood it, so he’d allow it. He owed Tim more than a little acceptance. He owed Tim so much.

“Sure thing, Replacement.”

-----

Jason spent hours going over every inch of his place when he returned. None of the traps or markers had been triggered to show that anyone had actually come inside his space. The feeling he had experienced at dinner hadn’t come back. All that he felt was a slight unease and that was easy enough to dismiss as lingering feelings from earlier in the day. It wasn’t any worse than a Pit hangover.

Finally, satisfied that his place was secure, Jason sank down onto his couch with a huff of air.

The gift basket mocked him from where it sat on the coffee table. He’d dumped it there when he first came in, ignoring the odd present in favor of making sure that his place was safe. It would have been convenient for someone to break in and set up a trap while they were off dealing with the basket, but no one had. Now both him and the Pit were settled and the basket was still there.

Who the fuck gave bathbombs for not being disemboweled?

Leaning forward, arms resting on his knees, Jason plucked out the card. It was a simple thing, just a bit of cream cardstock in a little envelope. No logo or distinguishing features. The writing was a scrawled, half cursive— just this side of legible. Distinctive, but not any handwriting that Jason recognized. It wasn’t signed.

That would have been too easy.

That was the real issue of it all, wasn’t it? Who would leave a note like that for him? Jason Todd shouldn’t be getting a note like that. Red Hood, sure, he could understand getting such a message. He hated it a little, now that he was further away from the worst of the Pit Rage, but he got it. But him as Jason? Reclusive, miraculously returned son of Bruce Wayne? Jason shouldn’t have anyone afraid of him like that.

It spoke to someone knowing of his life as vigilante turned crime boss turned vigilante again, and that was dangerous. It was dangerous for him. It was dangerous for his family. It was dangerous for Crime Alley.

It was just another fucking thing he had to deal with. As if it wasn’t enough to having only recently, officially, returned to the living. There was also the work he was trying to do as Red Hood, the work he was trying to do for Crime Alley as Jason, and the effort of trying to spend more time with his family (preferably without stabbing anyone). Now he had this mystery too.

Maybe the bathbombs actually were a good gift and didn’t that idea make him scowl. When was the last time he’d actually taken some time to just relax? It had to be a while with the size that his ‘to read’ pile had grown to was any indication.

He could use one. They were just bathbombs.

He could run a warm bath, relax, crack open a book, eat some chocolate… and just try not to worry for a bit. Nothing was going to be solved tonight. Bruce had ordered him off patrol— which normally wouldn’t stop him, but Cass had given him big worried eyes too. There were no other pressing matters. His apartment was secure…

Fuck it. He grabbed the little basket and headed to the bathroom.

Time for some self care.

-----

AN: We'll likely get a Danny scene to cap chapter 2 off, but I though this was a nice little bundle to post! And my poor migraine is going to get even worse with the Artic front so wanted to get this posted~

Thank you all for such a lovely response on the other parts! This will be going up on ao3, but I want to get at least three chapters done first to get a little buffer. Everyone who asked should be in the tag list (as of yesterday), but if I missed you, or you want to be added, just let me know in the replies!

Stay delightful my darlings!

#dp x dc #dp x dc fanfic #red hood #jason todd #batfamily #like betta fish do

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annastylepie · 2 years ago

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The Butlers apprentice AU

Dc x Dp au 1. uwu

ok so like Alfred is like Dannys Great Grandpa or something I really don't care tbh.

At a Family reunion Alfred raising and beeing surrounded by detectives quickly picks up that Danny when close to his parents seems uncomfortable especially when they talk about ghosts and the manece Phantom. As the reunion goes on he notices that danny at times would seem to walk a little too silent to be normal. Upon asking Danny about his oppinion on Phantom out of his parents ear shot he praises the hero and states that he is nothing like his parents make him seem etc. etc.

Some time later when danny is around 17, maybe at a different reunion or even the same Alfred wittneses Danny transform and is explained by him and Jazz the situation. Danny procedes to vent about wanting to move out but not wanting to leave family so Alfred procceds to offer him a room at the manor. Danny is hesistent on taking the offer at first. But after a too close call with the GIW and his perents as well as encouragement from Jazz and his friends he gives and goes to live in the menor under the condition, that he doesn't want to just mooch of of his great Grandpa. So he starts his Butler apprenticeship in the Wayne Manor, where he procedes to learn how to properly cook without the food coming to life, keep up in housework and everything a butler needs to know.

The best part Danny seems incredibly efficient within an hour he can have the entire manor from a litteral bomb exploded here to sparcling clean you could eat from the floor. Danny was entrusted with the secret identeties of the Batfam as well as the batcave.

Bruce was first did all type of reseche of course not just anyone even family of Alfred could just know about their after dark affairs noting that beside the ghost hunter parents and not exactly good grades, Danny was a normal 17 something year old however upon the reveal Danny did not seem surprised at all. How?

"I found the cave like a month ago what do you mean it is hard to find? If we didn't dust it as regularly as we do it would be as obvious as hanging a sign"

Bruce then insits that Danny needs to get some training on self defence and fightling so he doesn't pose too big risks in existing on Wayne manor. Bruce is suprised that Danny is actually able to hold his own in a fight, so after some more reserch he makes the connection that Danny is Phantom.

-------------

Danny likes Tim he is a smart dedicated vigilante guy that somehow reminds him of his early days in the way of how little sleep he gets and just doesn't take care of himself all that much. Danny swore to himself to make sure that Tim takes more care of himself and if he goes a little spooky to do so so be it

Tim is certain that something is up with Danny but just can't put a finger on what and it is driving him mad even more now that Bruce seems to trust him. Danny does impossible tasks that just no one seems to aknowlege. Like sneaking him a coffe when he needs to actually survive the day without sleeping in between somehow danny's coffe just works better than any other he can get anywhere else. Danny seems to also be adament on Tim taking breaks and sleeping. Joy.

Danny the menace he is puts his whole chaos energy into confusing the sleep deprivied Tim with the goal to ultimately get him to sleep. What could convince Tim that he needs more sleep? :

-Danny walks by tim 4 times always coming from a Room that has no other exit or enterece what is so confusing? it is on the second floor and after exiting he doesn't enter the room again

-He would at times just fade out of view as if he was never there

-Sometimes he would invisibly follow him around and move things just so slightly that it could be just be his imagination or sleep deprived brain making stuff up

(-Danny also gives Tim 'coffee' when asked because when Danny makes it he can actually survive the rest of the day without getting tired danny won't share his secret on how he does it ( it is totally ectoplasmd) )

After each confrontation on how he does these things Danny denyies everything and tells him: "I am just one hell of a butler. Now go to bed"

-------------

Dick and Danny upon fist meeting could only be considered imediate sibling adopion or whatever as well as a ever since frequent pun off

Dick also tries to brother Danny around, Danny is in a strange in between position of enjoying it and beeing conflicted on if he should get to attached... it is too late he is too far in at this point

-----------------------

Damien is a little shit at the beginning and probably even after a longer time

Damien might do a spoiled kid route at fist asking for more and more outlandish and impossible tasks, however danny delivers every time

You want something from that one store 2 hours away? here you go

Need something from your grandpa's but seems impossible? here you go

You want an ancient catana one of the first ones ever created? here you go

Space rock? "I don't want a space rock as you called it" I will get you a freakn' space rock

I also imagine that damien would spar with danny at first because danny wanted to teach damien some respect for others and damien because he couldn't let it stand that a freakn civilian can beat him in something like fighting when he was training since he was basiclly just a todler.

As time passes Damien gains Respect for Danny and sees him as a Rolemodle as well as something close to a cousin.

Damien knows of Danny beeing a halfa, they agree to not tell Tim until he figures it out himself

------------------

Now half a year into the whole buttler thing, Jason and Danny meet the first time

Danny feels sick something in here smells rotten it makes him sick what is this horrible smell where did it come from he house is clean the kitchen is freshly cleanded and the trash taken out there is no reason for this foul of smell to exist anywhere near the manor that is when he sees Alfred talking to someone with a white streak in their hair.

"Danny why don't you join us? This is Master Jason. Master Jason this is my Grandson Danny"

"It is a pleasure to meet you" Danny states moving further into the kitchen the smell gets worse but wanting to be polite he still holds out his hand for a handshake

"Hi" Jason greets shortly shaking dannys hand but upon contact jason freezes as invisible energie seems to surrouned Danny it is familliar and comforting and suddenly Jason feels incredibly light he could fly if gravety didn't still exist but man did it feel debatable right now Jason holds Dannys hand a little longer then most would consider normal all while danny seems to look right into his soul some form of understanding within his eyes

"A friend of the other side it seems, I still got (insert task) to do, nice meeting you and we defenetly need to talk, till later"

just like that danny is out of view and after a short transformation out of sight, man does he reek of corrupted ectoplaslm he gave him a little of his own throu his hand shake to lessen the smell but it still smelled so strong

Meanwhile Jason looks to where danny left the room hoping he would return he suddenly felt so safe and the Pits have never been this quiet before forget quiet they are silent for the first time in years jason can think entierly clearly and relaxed

he defenetly needs to visit more often and get Dannys number

-------

during his stay danny only tells bruce damien and jason his halfa status the others just kinda figure it out on their own and ask him about it after a while danny would also totally just chill on the cieling at the most rendom times like 2 am tim goes to get a snack after reserch only for danny to throw him an apple from the cieling and dissapearing. Tim went to bed afterwards

that s all I have rigth now have fun I guess :)

#dp x dc #butler phantom #alfred pennyworth #batman #danny phantom #not danny getting adopted #danny is a little shit #crossover #butler #danny is a god of chaos and is aware of it #tim needs sleep #jason needs peace #give tim a break #poor guy #jason todd #tim drake #damien wayne #DCXDP #DPXDC

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firequeenofficial · 2 days ago

Text

He knew it was coming. From the moment he saw that warden running at Mumbo, who was running at him, Jimmy knew it was the end.

That didn't stop him from trying to run, of course. That didn't stop him from fighting to stay. That didn't tamper down the terror when the warden blasted him into the hole with a heart and a half standing between him and death.

It never really did, did it?

Cowering in the hole, Jimmy tried to block out the screams of his friends, the shouts of Mumbo somewhere nearby. He tried to block out every other sound, until only his gasping breaths and pounding heart remained, desperate to come up with a plan to make it, to get out of here, to live.

Too slow. He was too slow. His brain exploded with the warden's furious roar, and Jimmy couldn't hold in his scream as he curled in on himself, scrunching up his eyes and covering his ears, trying in vain to protect them.

No matter. He was dead before the pain even had the chance to settle.

Silence fell. A strange combination of warmth and cold brushed his skin, the whispering of still air soothing his still-ringing ears, the poignant scent of nothing filling his nose. Before he could relax, however, his skin pricked and all his hair stood on end, like he was caught in a lightning storm.

Slowly, hesitantly, Jimmy sat up and opened his eyes.

He was surrounded by bodiless shadows, all looking at him with eyes that glowed purple. Beyond the shadows, a harsh white light, or a tight black void, or a gentle golden landscape.

The shadows just looked at him. They didn't say a word: they didn't need to. Jimmy knew what they wanted.

He got shakily to his feet. One of the shadows held out its hand. It looked vaguely familiar, shorter than the others, with wings on its back and head, with eyes pure as the void Lizzie died in.

Jimmy reached out, ready to take the shadow's hand and follow it into what comes next, when a different hand grabbed his and shoved him back.

Just like that, the calm seemed to shatter, and his still mind started running as Grian stepped in front of him, looking a very Grian-like combination of angry and terrified. He was wearing a black leather jacket and had sunglasses rested on the top of his head.

"Stop this, Tim," Grian snapped.

Jimmy opened his mouth to gasp Grian's name, reaching out to take his arm, but his voice refused to work. No sound came out. His voice wasn’t working. Why wasn’t his voice working?

Grian went on, "Leave them alone. You can go back! You don't need to go with them."

Back. Back to Secret Life. Back to the fighting, the fear, the lying, the desperation. He could go back. But what for? The shadows were still watching him intently, silently inviting him to go with them. Something about them started to calm his mind again, despite his body’s initial reaction to them. It would be so much easier to move on. He couldn't win, anyway. What was there to go back to?

"People love you, Jimmy!" a new voice said, shattering the calm even before it took root, and Jimmy turned to find Tango standing to his right.

Tango was wearing a sort of cowboy outfit, or... or a rancher outfit. Yes, that's what it was. Why did he know that? Why was Tango here, too? Why was Jimmy so damn happy he was? What was going on? Why couldn’t he speak?

"Admittedly, some love you more than others, but-" Tango was glaring at someone behind Jimmy, and he turned to see Scott, who was holding a poppy in both hands like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world, just as he interrupted Tango.

"I may not always be the nicest to you, Jimmy, but that doesn't mean I don't want you around!" Scott said.

Jimmy swallowed. He had no idea what either of these two were talking about, or why he couldn’t ask them, or why they were here, or why he so desperately wanted to stay with them. But...

Again, he felt his gaze pulled to the ever-watching eyes of the shadows. The shorter one still had its hand outstretched, patiently waiting for Jimmy to make the choice it knew he would.

"Remember what you were fighting for, lad!"

Jimmy jumped and looked back to Grian to find Joel standing beside him in a matching (but sleeveless) leather jacket, his sunglasses resting on the tip of his nose.

"They-" Joel gestured at the shadows behind him "-want you dead. But you don't have to listen, lad. You hate them, remember? You have to remember!"

He hated them? That didn’t feel right! They were so calm, so safe. It was these guys, Grian and Tango and Scott and Joel, that were flooding his mind, making it difficult to think clearly, making any sort of decision-making impossible. If only he could-

He turned, not fully knowing why but somehow knowing who he would find, and saw Martyn standing behind him, his Big Dog ears pulled back. "The way back is obvious, Jimmy. It's easy. You could come back to me."

"Just... humour us," Grian pleaded, and Jimmy whipped around to see him holding out a hand, his pose identical to the shadow behind him. Jimmy shook his head, trying to clear it, feeling like he was seeing double, struggling to keep his mind together. "Come back with us. You don’t need to die"

People died every day. Jimmy knew this. He was very, very familiar with this fact. Some, because they simply do not see any other option.

He glanced at the shadows, and for just a second he saw Scott kneeling at Gem's feet, a desperate sacrifice.

A blink, and time flipped on its head and turned inside out, and he could see a different dog-eared man kneeling in an identical position at Martyn's feet. He didn't know the man, he didn't know the circumstances, he didn't know if it was the past or the present or the future, but he knew what was happening. A sacrifice just the same, but made out of determination rather than desperation, strategic rather than impulsive.

The scene changed again, and next thing he knew, he was looking at Scott and the dog-eared man caught in battle, sword against sword, both blades blood stained, both men splattered with the stuff, not fighting to the death, but fighting for life, both for the exact same reason they let themselves die in the previous images: to win. Victory was a cause worthy of both life and death.

Maybe... maybe it was also a cause worth living for. Maybe it was something he could reach for. Maybe he could… maybe he could fight for it like the others. Maybe, just maybe…

Or maybe it was something he could die for. If he was dead, that was one less person standing between Martyn and a win. If he took that shadow's offer, his Big Dog could win this game for the both of them.

Jimmy turned around to meet Martyn's eyes. The other man could see his decision in his eyes, and shook his head.

"No. No, you do not mean so little that this is all you have to offer. You may not be perfect, you may not be whole, but that doesn't mean there is nothing you can do."

"Mate, if you die, I'm going with you," yet another new voice said. Jimmy didn't have to turn far to see Mumbo standing between Martyn and Tango before Mumbo gestured at the shadows. "They don't just want you - once they get you, they will take all the rest of us too. And I'll be first in line."

"And what about me?" Tango asked. "What am I without my Rancher buddy?"

Jimmy turned to him and tried again to speak, to say something, anything, because Tango looked so afraid, so desperate, and Jimmy hated it, hated seeing Tango like that, though he couldn't remember why, but he couldn't so much as hum!

It was Scott, ever the call to action, the one who seemed permanently unsatisfied, who ordered, "Keep fighting, Jimmy. Don't give up like this! This is the coward's way out."

Maybe he was a coward. Maybe he was scared, and tired, and ready.

This time, when he turned his attention back to the shadows, he recognised the big one behind the shortest one in the front: the Secret Keeper.

He hated that thing. He hated the way it had turned all his friends against each other. He hated… he hated the way they had all followed its every order, practically tripping over themselves to fulfil its wishes, like it was some kind of-

"You may hate it," Grian said, like he'd heard Jimmy's thoughts, interrupting their already shaky flow, "but it gave you direction. You don't have to like it to go back. You can go back raging if you want! I don't care. That thing gave you direction, it gave you reason, it gave you something to connect over. And you can like that! You can use that."

"You're not alone, Jimmy," Tango reminded him in a voice that managed to smile even as it was tinged with sadness. "If you grieve, grieve with us. If you're scared, be scared with us. If you hurt, hurt with us."

Joel added, "If you're hurt, use that hurt, lad. Make it a weapon. Make it dangerous."

"Love can be just as dangerous," Scott mentioned.

"Love can heal, too." Tango was glaring at Scott again. "You shouldn't be afraid of that." He nodded in Martyn's direction, and Jimmy turned to his fellow Big Dog, who was grinning at him and nodding along. "It can lift you up, carry you. And you know what? You're actually the one who taught me that."

Jimmy lived in grief, these days, even if he didn't know who or what he was grieving, just that he was. Every day, every hour, he could feel it changing him, weighing on his every decision, making him doubt every thought and feeling, and he was ready for it to end, ready to stop feeling anything at all.

But others' words... Could Martyn really help carry him to a win, or at least a better position than second last, and could he really trust his friends to help him with this unexplainable weight and let them heal him, instead of tear him down, and could he learn to use his fear and pain to his advantage and could he-?

It was a nice idea, the thought of that connection, that warmth, among the chaos, it felt... perfect. It felt really, really amazing, and he wanted that, he wanted it more than he could put into words.

That was when the shadow said its first words, bypassing speech and throwing its voice straight into Jimmy's head. Its voice seemed hauntingly familiar.

TAKE MY HAND.

The voice was emotionless, and yet the air simmered with the sort of quiet rage that refused to be weathered. The others showed no sign of either noticing the fiery electricity in the air or hearing the shadow's quiet, booming voice, even when Jimmy whipped around to face the figure again to find its face just as blank and its form just as motionless as before.

YOU HAVE NO REASON TO STAY. IT IS FEAR THAT HOLDS YOU TO THAT PLACE. YOU LIE TO YOURSELF AND YOUR FRIENDS AND THEY KNOW IT. THEY DO NOT WANT YOU. THEY WANT YOU TO SUFFER AND YOU ALLOW IT BECAUSE YOU CRAVE THEIR APPROVAL AND PRAISE. YOU HIDE AWAY WHEN THEY LOOK AT YOU AND WAVE YOUR ARMS WHEN THEY DO NOT. WHY FIGHT THIS. WHY CLING TO FRIENDS WHO NEVER WANTED YOU IN THE FIRST PLACE.

TAKE MY HAND.

Jimmy thought of his friends. He thought of the way Martyn constantly sought out others. He thought of the way Grian always leaned toward Scar rather than him. He thought of the way Joel would shower Lizzie in gifts and scoff at him in exactly the same breath.

Slowly, Jimmy's hand reached again towards the shadow.

"Jimmy, mate, stop!" Mumbo shouted, putting a hand on Jimmy's shoulder to stop his movements as Grian ordered, "Don't listen to them, Tim! Just think about this."

Jimmy didn't know what to think. There was so much, far too much, and it was all building up and it was all fighting for his attention leaving his mind lost and confused in the chaos and he just wanted it to stop and it was too much and-

"Do not give in!" That was Joel, though Jimmy was struggling to keep up with way too many voices coming way too fast from way too many directions and it wasn’t stopping and he needed to think!

Joel was still talking. "Don't let them win. Whatever they've told you, it isn't true."

"You may not be able to see any reason to keep on living, but that's not true!" Was that Scott? He didn’t know, he couldn’t tell, he could barely see straight

Beside him, Tango took Jimmy's still-outstretched hand and turned the canary to face him, forcing his gaze away from the shadows. Jimmy noticed his vision was blurred, and he struggled to focus. His world tunnel visioned, until Tango was all that existed. Jimmy's hand was placed over Tango's beating heart. Tango's burning red eyes refused to leave Jimmy's. "If you don't see any reason, then find one. Find one, and hold on tight."

Unconsciously, Jimmy's fingers curled up in Tango's vest, clinging to it. Tango's lips twitched.

And then another new voice spoke, shattering the moment of calm, of safety.

"If you die now, then I died for nothing!"

Jimmy whipped around to see Lizzie standing on Joel's other side, arms folded, just barely recognisable by her pink hair. As soon as his eyes left Tango's, the cacophony of sounds and colours returned and threatened to slice through his brain and shred his ears and crush his eyes and, and, and.

"I was trying to help people like you, like Scar, like Joel, get further by taking out Scott! When I died instead, I thought at least there was one less competition for you. Are you really going to waste that? Are you really gonna waste my death like this?"

"Listen to what's happening in your heart!" Tango was trying to get his attention again, but it was too late, the damage was done and there was no going back, so his words struggled to register on Jimmy's scattered brain. "Listen to that call to life! To love!"

Someone else picked up the slack, following Tango’s line of thought, and Jimmy decided it was probably Martyn, and he had no idea what was up and what was down. "You are breathing, Jimmy. They want to steal that from you - you just need to keep fighting them. Are you just gonna let them get away with this?"

Scattered memories were filtering in, screaming bright colours, making it all the worse. A flash of red petals, purple jewels, orange flames, golden wheat. And each memory brought with it a rush of emotion: fear, hope, betrayal, joy, guilt, love, grief, triumph, all flooding him at once, making it all that much harder to focus on anything at all.

A flash of light shone from the direction of the shadows, and Jimmy's gaze was pulled, irrevocably, towards them.

Five people were standing there, their colours muted, each with the outline of a crown surrounding their heads like shattered halos.

Grian, a poncho thrown over his usual sweater and blood on his curled fists.

Scott, with a pink axolotl curled over his shoulders and a sword held high above his head.

Pearl, with a red cloak clasped at her throat and a pair of hoes hanging at her sides.

Martyn, a red-and-white flag hung from his belt and coral growing over his skin and hair.

The fifth was cast in shadow, almost resembling the figures still beckoning Jimmy towards them, but Jimmy could make out a black cloak lined with red and purple flowers, and a bow hung loosely from scarred hands.

In unison, each of them held out a hand towards him, perfectly echoing the short shadow's pose.

The others started speaking over each other, haggling for his attention, and he couldn't think, he couldn't hear, he wanted it to stop, he had to make it stop, why wouldn’t it stop!

And then the shadow spoke again, mixing in with his friends instead of drowning them out, just another voice shouting at him and blocking his thoughts and making any kind of rationality impossible.

YOU WANT FAME AND ADORATION.

"It's not worth it, Jimmy!"

YOU WANT MORE THAN ATTENTION, MORE THAN LOVE.

"Lad, don't listen to it!"

BUT YOU KNOW BETTER THAN THIS. TAKE MY HAND.

"You're worth so much more than you think!"

STOP TRYING TO BE MORE THAN YOU ARE.

"You're my Rancher! You mean the world to me!"

YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT I THINK. I THINK-

"No one asked you!" Grian shouted, directly at the shadow.

That was the last Jimmy heard before everything finally built up to be entirely unbearable. With a silent shout, he dropped to a crouch, hands over his ears, but if anything the racket just got louder, more painful, and he couldn't breath, couldn't think, he just wanted peace, he just wanted to feel safe and warm, he just wished all these voices would GO AWAY-

The world went quiet. Every single voice became background noise. Every ounce of terror faded. All that was left was a cheerful whistling from above.

Shaking, Jimmy looked up, past his friends, past the shadows, past the crowned figures. There was a yellow bird, a canary, flying overhead, swooping in a sky that barely existed. It soared over each of his friends in turn, and as it did, memories rushed in.

The canary flew over Grian and Joel, and Jimmy remembered golden wheat and a pathway in the clouds and endless encouragement.

The canary flew over Lizzie, and Jimmy remembered a thick ring of trees and a triumphant prediction and a fairy queen.

The canary flew over Scott, and Jimmy remembered flowers and home and a treasured peace offering.

The canary flew over Martyn and Mumbo, and Jimmy remembered laughter and spyglasses and statues.

And finally, the canary flew over Tango, and Jimmy remembered. He remembered love and support and warmth and loyalty. He remembered goat horns and horses and a ranch and a warden that didn't want him dead. He remembered Tango at his side, in his arms, watching his back, petting his hair, preening his wings. He remembered days when the sun shone and tinged the world in gold, days when it rained and the world was alive with the water's singing, days when it snowed and the world sparked, and at the centre of it all, turning the dreary into beauty, was Tango. He remembered his ranch, and he remembered his Rancher.

He wanted that back. He wanted his Rancher back.

But his Rancher died with him, back then. There was only one way he could be with him forever.

It was a strange sort of paradox, this desire to live in a whole new way, coupled with the need to die. But he saw the truth: he knew what he wanted, and he knew how to get it. He didn't want a pounding heart or gasping lungs or running legs or fisted hands. He wanted peace. He wanted rest. He wanted safety. He wanted his Rancher. And to get it, he needed to give up everything he knew.

Most people could go their whole lives without experiencing that clarity, without seeing the certainty in the paradoxical. So many die without reaching this conclusion, still questioning if there was any meaning to life and death. Still more act like they did see it, like they knew what they were living for, and kept that uncertainty to themselves, where it hid away and festered forever.

Jimmy was grateful he had the chance to see, and to make a decision.

THROW AWAY THE FEAR.

Jimmy stood up.

REACH FOR WHAT COULD BE.

He walked forward.

WHAT AWAITS IS BEAUTY.

He reached out.

THE WORLD HAS NOTHING TO OFFER YOU.

He paused to look back at Tango.

YOU HAVE NOTHING TO OFFER THE WORLD,

And, with a smile on his face, Jimmy took the shadow's hand.

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little-pondhead · 1 year ago

Text

DPxDC Prompt:

[this is a long one please forgive me]

Bruce lied to the others about his trip through time. Not all of it! Just…one specific thing.

During the early parts of his timeline hijinks, before Tim realized Bruce was still alive, he had a bit of a respite in between his endless time jumps. (Maybe a certain ghost was helping him out.) With a fuzzy memory at best and a strange itch to investigate the unknown, Bruce had been taken in by an old couple who had no kids but wanted to pass on the family name. And who better than a thirty-something amnesiac stranger who could actually be related by blood?

Bruce, with nowhere to go, accepted his new name, grew out his hair, and quickly got accepted into college for engineering. There, he met two of his closest friends; a redheaded woman who could kick his ass and a wet chicken of a man who could also kick his ass. They both made him nostalgic for something he didn’t remember, and that made him sad sometimes, but the two were always there to cheer him up.

Years passed, and Bruce’s life moved on. He settled well into his new name, mourned his parents when the eventually passed, celebrated his wedding with the redhead, and grieved when the last of their trio fell out of touch. He had a daughter, and then a son! They were both so smart, even if they didn’t share the same passion he had for exploring the science behind the afterlife. (Something about the dead just itched his brain in an infuriating way, and Bruce wasn’t one to let sleeping dogs lie. He just had to find out why he was so obsessed with this stuff!)

Eventually, his and his wife’s research yielded results, and that’s when bits of Bruce’s former life started coming back to him. After the portal opened, he spent his days with his head in a fog, oblivious to the world around him as he struggled to continue his work.

Why did he remember a boy named Dick? Who would name their child that? And Jason…who was Jason? That name always made him sad. There were more names, more faces, but none of them were his. He could never remember what his name was supposed to be. All he had was the one his adoptive parents gave him.

His wife was worried. His daughter was struggling. And his son…his son sometimes hurt to look at. Bruce didn’t know why. He knew he was being a terrible father, but something in him wanted to cry whenever he gazed at those clear blue eyes, just like his own. His son was too smart for his own good, and realized his dad had started avoiding him.

The day his son purposely left the room so Bruce could relax was one that hurt him even now.

Time kept passing, and Bruce was becoming anxious. His brain fog was as bad as its ever been. He had constant headaches, and his hands kept twitching for nonexistent tools on his belt. Something was going to happen. Something had happened. A voice in his head told him it was all his fault.

So in an attempt to clear his head and spend more time with his family, Bruce insisted they all go to dinner at the local diner. His son invited his friends. Even better! More people meant more distractions from his messed-up thoughts. He wouldn’t spiral with the kids around.

And then something exploded.

The last thing Bruce remembered was his son’s (green??) eyes widening in fear and horror as something yanked him violently backwards. He fell farther than expected, through a portal and a green sky full of black stars. A hand tightened on the back of his jumpsuit, hauling his giant body through another portal with a roar of a motorcycle.

And then…and then…and then what?

All of a sudden, Bruce was sprawled in some mud in the middle of a forest, dizzy and coughing from the explosion’s fumes. He’s singed all over, and his ears still rang from the force of the…what happened again?

Bruce sits up, and all of a sudden, he’s in the era of the pilgrims. His memory has been wiped clean, his new name and family forgotten thanks to the hands of time. His adventures through the time stream continue, with him assuming many different identities throughout many different decades.

The memories of being Jack Fenton don’t return to him until he’s back in 2004, once again in his own time and living as Bruce Wayne. A glowing green sticky note informs him that “The Nasty Burger Incident” had just occurred. His “other self” just had his ass dragged to another era, so the time loop would continue.

It also informed him that he had an orphaned son crying for him at Bruce’s own grave.

Well, his forgotten son (that sounded bad, even to him) was supposed to be about fourteen now, right? Bruce hopes he doesn’t have to fight anyone for custody.

#pondhead blurbs #danny phantom #dpxdc #writing prompt #‘Alfred get the Guy’#‘you haven’t even left the house today’#‘my dad senses are tingling and I may need to fistfight another billionaire so have the Other Guy on standby as well’#Bruce becomes Jack Fenton #he went to college and literally built a life for himself at the same time ‘Bruce Wayne’ existed #‘Jack’ just never watched the news #clockwork had to make sure Danny existed so guess what! you’re the son of the bat happy birthday #the nasty burger incident happens but in the two seconds it took to kill everyone #Johnny 13 dragged his ass to another era #he was ordered to by clockwork #I have zero clue how old Bruce was during his timeline shenanigans and idk when it took place either #just work with me on this #please I am begging you #he only got his memories back when the time matches up with Jack Fenton’s ‘death’#Danny loses his dad and then gets him back in the span of 24 hours but now his dad is a billionaire??#well he gets to watch Bruce fistfight Vlad for custody and then stop him from killing clockwork #cause how DARE Clockwork just make him FORGET an entire family he had???#morally grey clockwork #Danny is trying really hard not to become Dan and Bruce is trying really hard to explain this to his other kids #‘no this one is ACTUALLY mine’#‘yes I know I was a teen in Europe when the wedding would have happened’#again don’t know the dc timeline just work with me here #please don’t ask me to continue this I will cry #if someone else does I’d be happy to read it though :))

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greeeengoblin · 2 months ago

Text

In an alternate universe, years ago, the Joker brutally beat the second Robin to death with a crowbar in an abandoned warehouse in Ethiopia, and then blew him up. Jason’s body was in a terrible, unrecognizable state, both from the fractures all over his body and the burns caused by the explosion. But he didn’t die. When Batman found him, he was still breathing—shallow, shaky breaths—but enough to prove his heart was still beating. Jason Todd survived that day, after undergoing a long and intense surgery and numerous medical procedures at Gotham General Hospital. His brain was fractured in countless places, and his body had numerous injuries that seemed beyond repair. It seemed nearly impossible for Jason to return to his former self—or even speak again. But he spoke.

Jason lay in a room that no longer looked like his old one, surrounded by hospital machines and monitors. One of his eyes was covered by a bandage, his body was wrapped in bandages, and his head ached like crazy, despite the morphine. He raised his delicate, IV-lined arm above his head and clenched his teeth to ease the pain. But his groans still escaped him. Hearing that Jason had woken up, Bruce rushed into the room. He gently removed Jason’s hand from his head and held it in his own, giving him a soft, loving look. But Jason’s mind was confused. No... it was filled with colors. He opened his mouth, but he couldn’t speak. He didn’t know what to say. He felt like he knew the man standing in front of him, but he didn’t.

“Who... Who are you, sir?” Jason managed to ask, his voice so soft that even he was surprised it came out at all. He pulled his hand away from Bruce’s and scratched his head again. His eyes scanned the room, filled with luxurious furniture and overwhelmingly scary hospital equipment. It frightened him.

Bruce pushed aside his shock. This was normal. It was entirely normal for Jason not to remember anything after what had happened. In fact, Bruce was just grateful that Jason’s head hadn’t exploded. Bruce gently took Jason’s hand again. “You’ve got a lot of stitches in your head, you need to be careful.” Bruce said. As for Jason’s question, Bruce wasn’t sure how to answer. It was actually a simple question, but he couldn’t bring himself to accept it. He couldn’t stomach reintroducing himself to someone he already knew so well.

"Stitches?" Jason's eyes widened. His breath was raspy as he spoke, and by the end of the sentence, he started coughing. Even his cough sounded thin and high-pitched. "What happened to me...?" he managed to say.

Bruce, seeing Jason start to cough, had already pressed the button to call Leslie. Putting Jason to sleep seemed like the easiest escape for now; Bruce didn’t feel ready to answer any questions. “We’ll talk about this later.” Bruce said, leaving the room just as Leslie entered. She injected a sedative into Jason's IV, causing his eyes to slowly close.

From that day on, Bruce never told Jason that he used to be Robin. Jason never learned that Bruce was Batman, or that Dick was Nightwing. He never learned about Tim, or Cassandra, or even Damian, Stephanie, and Duke, who joined the family later on. He lived like a normal young man. Bruce was happy to provide him with this because Jason was doing well from the start. If Jason had known he was Robin or about their identities, he would most likely have tried to prove himself and wanted to be Robin again.

But now, they didn’t have to stop him.

To Jason, Batman and Robin were just stories from children's books, and he knew nothing more. In fact, they didn’t really allow him to research it. At least, Jason was so preoccupied with college exams and more that he wasn’t really interested in digging into the events involving some man in a bat costume.

Seven years after the incident, Jason was now 20 years old. He had been accepted to the University of Oxford and returned to the manor for the summer break. His body was in better condition after years of physical therapy, but he was still very thin and short—probably the shortest one in the family. Due to damage to his eyes, he wore prescription glasses and struggled with seeing things up close. Additionally, a small patch of white hair remained in his bangs due to an iris condition, but it didn’t bother him. He couldn’t fully remember what his life had been like before this, but he knew he was happy and living a good life.

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sunnymusingsao3 · 6 months ago

Text

The Half-Life of Sixty Seconds

Words: 6626 Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tim Drake & Lonnie Machin, Tim Drake/Lonnie Machin Summary: Based on Red Robin #16. Missing Scenes and Relationship Building. Tags: Pre-Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Developing Relationship, Developing Friendships, Missing Scene, Pre-New 52, New Earth, Medical Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Coma, Based on Red Robin #16, Comic: Red Robin (2009) #16

Preview:

The problem with thinking like a detective is not actually that thinking like one is too strict or structured. There’s organization on a document, but Tim’s mind is not a bullet journal. It’s not a legal form, it’s not a spreadsheet, it’s not a ledger.

It’s messy and human and creative. Loose, unstructured, instinctual. Detectives aren’t good at solving cases because they work like machines; it’s much the opposite. It’s that creative mess which aids in seeing between the structure of presented facts, reading the code, and then cracking it. It’s like tracing a spider web back to its center. There’s an observable track leading exactly where one needs to go— a veritable method to the madness— but it’s still art, all the same, even to the broom that ruins it.

So, when Tim is presented with a countdown, it’s not just a mechanical, factual understanding of time that pushes hard against the inside of his ribs; it’s a too-clear visual of a digital clock-face, neutral and unyielding, counting down from sixty in his neocortex. Artistic and messy and emotional.

There is only one place to go once one is caught in the web.

00:59:99. He doesn’t even know what’s happening, yet, but dread spreads in his stomach regardless because there was a piece on the chess board that he didn’t see, and now he’s in check.

He grits his teeth and demands information.

By 00:56:19, he has a location, and by 00:54:43, his feet aren’t on the pavement anymore, while Ulysses Armstrong lies there frozen, trapped by Tim’s last-ditch effort to see the guy to justice.

As he takes off, he tosses half-formed instructions to the bystanders who stopped to see Red Robin use a guy to ollie down a stoop, and it’s like he can hear his own voice on a time delay, like he’s listening to both the live scene and the news broadcast at once. It’s shrill and tense, and even in his own head, it sounds like his vocal cords are pulled too tight, like they’ll snap at any minute.

He doesn’t stop to think too hard about that— his brain, while no computer, is still running calculations in prestissimo tempo, flying through his mind as quickly as the freezing Gotham wind passes over his exposed cheeks, chapping the skin there, and on his chin, his lips. He is moving at a blistering pace, and he still won’t make it for another twelve seconds.

00:43:01. He dips his left shoulder and careens through a tight curve, one of the fastest he’s pulled off with the new glider. If he wasn’t counting building numbers like dandelion fluff on the breeze, Tim would pass time thinking about the effects of adrenaline on a trained skill. But he, more than most, has examples plenty of that very thing, dating as far back as when he was twelve and still unable to wear the colors he was training for.

The windows of 515 Roussos Boulevard’s penthouse apartment are splashed in plum and claret from the setting sun, and it’s the perfect target for a bullseye. Tim’s cape slackens.

00:28:03 and he shatters the plate glass with the force of his dive, hitting it with the hardened armor of his elbows and knees first. It isn’t even a contest; the barrier explodes, and his feet crunch on the powder and shards beneath them, and it doesn’t even matter that it all went everywhere because Lonnie evidently wasn’t in any danger of getting hit by it all— because all Tim can see of Lonnie at first is a goddamned metal tube.

It doesn’t feel any less horrifying when he rotates and finds Lonnie’s head exposed at one end. His cheeks are sunken, and he’s so pale that Tim would have thought him dead if he hadn’t been talking to him that very morning.

Red Robin’s voice is sotto voce soft, though when the only other sound in the room is the dull murmur of equipment, it sounds loud as a gunshot, even over the blood rushing in his ears. “Lonnie…”

Two images splinter in his mind. One, his friend now, lying with his eyes shut and a disarmingly neutral expression written into the too-sharp angles of his face— the other, a direct antipode; Lonnie, cheeks flushed high with color, green eyes lit with gold and will, and impassioned words of revolution in no shortage on his sharp tongue.

Like yesterday…

“What did he do to you?”

[Read the rest on AO3] Note: You do need to be logged in to read. Apologies for the inconvenience. Until I can be sure that AO3 is not being used to train AI, my works will remain open to users only.

#[i love that timlonnie has a canonical 'what did he do to you' moment]#[i eat that shit up every time]#[comments encouraged!!]#my fic #my writing #dc fic #timlonnie #tim drake #lonnie machin #anarky #red robin #red robin (2009)#dc comics #dc #batman comics #tim drake fic #tim drake x lonnie machin

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gffa · 1 year ago

Note

If the batfamily were in the gffa, which ones of them do you think would have been jedis? How quickly do you think they would have joined the nascent rebellion?

Absolutely NONE of them would have been Jedi, I say with all fondness towards the Batfam, but they are emotional hot messes, every single one of them, and to be a Jedi you literally have to have your emotional shit together, that's straight up how the Force works. You cannot act out of anger or fear without slinking towards the dark side, the Force will throw all that right back in your face, and I don't think there's a single Batfam member that doesn't consistently act out of a place of anger. Bruce - My guy can't even keep it together without a psychic energy field in his brain that resonates with his emotional well-being, he would fall to the dark side inside a month. I love him, but he already thinks he has things under control in his brain that he very much does not, he is the definition of being created by fear of loss and the anger that results from it. Dick - My Blorbo may be the definition of hope and light in the DC universe, the most trusted hero right after Superman, but he absolutely has anger issues that he just kind of ignores. Psychics in the DC universe have tried to invade his mind and come out like, "Jesus fuck why is that guy's mind so terrifying!?" because, while Dick chooses kindness and love, he was also forged in anger at the injustices in the world. Jason - Sweet babygirl doesn't even know what he wants, I tend to see Jason as often times deeply contradictory because I'm not sure he knows how he feels about things, does he want to be part of his family or does he want to walk away from them, he wants their love, but he can't tolerate their love, he thinks everyone expects the worst from him and is angry ahead of time, because he's so deeply insecure about his place in the world and in his family, and the injustices of his life are ones that still haunt him, the Joker killing him and still getting to run around would drive him into anger, fear, and despair just as much as anyone. Tim - My guy is ready to tell anyone and everyone to fuck the fuck off at the drop of a hat, that he's often times the one trying to pull everyone back together, but he also is still haunted by the death of his parents, he's still unsure of his relationship with Bruce at times, when things get back and he loses a little too much in his life, he starts pushing people away, he pushed Dick and Steph away while Bruce was dead, he obsessed over bringing Kon back as a way to cope, rather than actually letting go of his hurts, that guy seems fairly even keel sometimes, but, no, he's a hot mess who would have the Force throwing all that back in his face, too. Damian - Baby bat is so insecure in a lot of ways, because he doesn't always know how to relate to his father, he doesn't know how to be a complement to Bruce the way the other Robins did, they're both brooders, they're both the kind who wear their anger on their sleeves, and have a core fear of loss that would have the dark side hissing in their ears. Barbara - In some ways, Babs is more emotionally stable than the others, but in other ways, she is JUST as unhinged as they are, her fury at the Joker is still lingering all around her heart, she still explodes in anger when something pisses her off, she's still a little afraid of commitment because she's scared to open herself up, she still has to deal with her spinal implant not being perfect, Babs probably has a stronger sense of what her problems are, but it's not like she does anything about them half the time. Cassandra - I think she still feels too much guilt about her past, even if none of it was her fault, but that she can't let go of that pain, and it's not just "bad" anger/fear that draws you to the dark side, it's also "good" anger/fear that lures you there, too. And Cass deals with a lot of that and, while I think she'd probably have the best chance of any of them at making it as a Jedi, she does still have a lot of issues that the Force would be throwing back in her face.

Stephanie - I'd give her the second best chance, she at least sometimes recognizes her fears and says, yeah, I'm afraid, I'm just not going to let it stop me. Steph has as much anger and need to punch the world as any of them do, but I think she might have a chance at changing up her thought patterns enough to make it. Duke - Hmm, I'm not sure I've read enough with Duke yet to tell what his underlying issues are and how much he's dealt with them. He seems fairly stable and willing to back off when he needs to, but in general, if you're a Bat, you've probably got some real anger to work on. Kate - Everything I've read of Kate is definitely "wants to punch things in the face" or "feels torn up about her relationships with people" and that she's not really interested in not being those things. Alfred - It depends on how you view him, I guess. If you see him as someone who has made peace with the lives his family has chosen and willing to understand that they are who they are, then I could see Alfred as a Jedi. But if you lean into the idea of a British Stiff Upper Lip where he just doesn't talk about the anguish he goes through seeing his family get hurt night after night, knowing he can't stop them, then no he would be a terrible Jedi. In short: THEY WOULD ALL SUCK AS JEDI, but they would definitely have started their own Rebel cell even before Bail and Mon and Leia started connecting the various individual groups together!

#lumi.txt #dc #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #barbara gordon #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #duke thomas #alfred pennyworth

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fckbatmanhiskidsareminenow · 4 months ago

Text

Kill me slowly, Baby you know I don’t fucking mind

warnings: vent fic about illness, mildly graphic depictions/imagery of physical and mental illness

tim drake centric

title: life waster by corpse (don’t look at me ok im embarrassed)

word count: 912

beta read and edited by the lovely @vespertilionis

Do not cry. Do not cry.

That’s all Tim can tell himself as he stiffly walks back to his car. He knows how this is going to go, he’s not too sure why he got his hopes up. He feels like an idiot.

Finally, in the safety of his car, he actually looks down at the referrals he has been given. One for a CT scan and the other for an overabundance of blood tests. He didn’t ask for either. All he wanted was a referral to see an ENT, but the doctor hadn’t even looked at him before she started talking over him and suggesting other ideas.

There’s a few things we can do before you see an ENT. It’s been a year since he started feeling like this. All he wanted was to see a specialist, someone who would know what was wrong.

It’s probably not what you think it is. Probably?

You’re crazy, nothing is wrong with you.

Nothing is wrong.

Nothingiswrongnothingiswrongnothingiswrong

He throws the referrals across the car before slamming his fist into the steering wheel and letting out the loudest scream he could.

It peters off into a sob when he realises he can’t hear anything. Well, anything but a high ringing. He sits there hyperventilating in his own version of silence.

He calls the CT place while driving, desperately trying to sound like he hasn’t been crying. He almost breaks down when the receptionist mentions he had the same test done around this time last year.

As he pulls into the driveway of the manor, he takes a moment to calm down. Firstly, because he doesn’t want to talk about it, and secondly, because he feels guilty for being upset. At least the doctor was running tests. Sure, she didn’t really listen to him and suggested tests for allergies and anemia, which he is sure he didn’t have, but she still decided to do tests. Other people have been sick for years and don’t have doctors listen to them, so he should be grateful.

Maybe she doesn’t think he’s crazy.

He tries not to think about the fact that if the CT scan comes back and shows his sinuses blocked, the doctor might put him on his fourth round of antibiotics. Even after the other three rounds have completely tanked his immune system. Or that if the blood tests show he is anemic, she might focus on that instead of the actual problem. Like the horrible constant congestion that makes him feel like his brain is being compressed into a liquid that’s going to explode out of his ears and nose. Or that if he does have the disease he thinks he does, he might lose his hearing. He really doesn’t want to think about that part.

When he enters the manor, he heads straight for the cave. He’s hoping for the perfectly healthy distraction of vigilantism. His hopes are immediately crushed when Bruce turns to him and asks him how the appointment went.

“Oh, uh, it went ok. We’re redoing some of the tests we did last year,” he says awkwardly, wishing for once Bruce would notice he didn’t want to talk about it. Once again, his wishes go unheard as the older man just looks concerned.

“You don’t seem too happy about that.”

No shit, man, no clue how you got the title of world’s greatest detective.

He tries to push away the resurfacing anger by laughing, but it comes out wrong.

“Yeah well, last time the results didn’t really get us anywhere. So, I was kinda hoping she would try something else.” Another laugh. Bruce nods and turns away. Either he finally got the hint or doesn’t know where to go with Tim’s response.

Relieved that the conversation is finally over, he starts heading to the computer when he hears Jason scoff.

“Ya know what I think you need? Some concrete to harden you up.”

Harden you up. Fucking whiny baby.

Harden you up. Ungrateful child.

Harden you up. Nothings wrong with you Tim, you’re out of your mind.

Tim stops in his tracks and turns his head slowly to face the older boy.

“What?” he says coldly, causing Jason to raise his hands in surrender.

“Hey! I was just joking with you.” he laughs, and Tim’s eye twitches.

“No, explain it to me, so I can understand how it was supposed to be funny.” He can feel the anger rising again. Jason lowers his arms, looking guilty for his ‘joke’, but Tim couldn’t care less.

“I just meant that you complain a lot. It’s kinda miserable.” He answers, sounding defeated, but again Tim couldn’t care less.

“Why do you think that is Jason? Do you think I’m complaining because it’s fun?” “No—“ “No! I’m not! I am fucking miserable! I’m exhausted and dizzy and I feel like my brain is rotting in my skull! And I’m sick of people not listening to me and thinking I’m fucking CRAZY!”

His throat hurts from screaming. He’s hyperventilating again, but he can’t hear it over the sound of the ringing again. It hurts. He shakes his head to try and clear it, but it just makes the world spin around him. A hand reaches out to steady him but he pushes it away.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” God, his voice is always so much louder when his ears are blocked.

He stumbles up the stairs, knowing he’s probably stomping, but he can’t hear that either.

#ew i hate tumblr formatting #i’ll link the ao3 post as well but in a bit #sorry tim love you bud #tim drake #jason todd #he’s also here #batfam #chronic mystery illness #i’m fine guys 😀#fanfic #batfamily fanfic #tim drake fanfic #batman #bat family

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480pfootage · 2 months ago

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Can you talk about how kate interacts with the other proxies 🌚 or tim tangent I jus love hearing you yap abt creepypasta

oh anon reallyy.. you're making me blush........ Well I'll give you a twofer for getting me all flushed.. This one will be the tim tangent and I'll make another post for kate's dynamic with the other proxies ;P

Tim I'd say is the most guilt-ridden proxy out of all of them, constantly stuck in the past. He regrets his childhood, regrets burning down the institution he was kept in, regrets infecting the Marble Hornets crew with the Operator's sickness, regrets killing Alex, killing Brian, regrets not killing himself, and most of all.. Regrets accepting the Slenderman's deal and bringing Brian back to life to endure this hell with him.

And the murders he has to commit.. They never bring him joy, they never do, right? He's always so remorseful.. He doesn't want to do this.. Especially when he's forced to murder a child, he'll accept whatever punishment the Slenderman gives him whether that be getting his ligaments torn from bone or getting forced through brain exploding headaches.. But then the mission would just be passed to someone who have no qualms with killing children be it Kate or Rouge.. so wouldn't it be better to just give those children a quick death? (he chooses to ignore the fact that Toby choses to endure torture rather than kill a child) ((plus his killings are all mercy killings rather than having them deal with the Slenderman of course!))

Now as the self-proclaimed proxy who's had the most experience with the Slenderman and Operator, he worries for the younger proxies.. They're not taking care of themselves properly.. He just doesn't want them to feel lost like he did when he was a kid himself! Toby hates Tim when he gets in those self deprecating moods, he's a grown ass twenty-something man, not a moody teen. Tim always gets on his ass about not taking his meds, not eating enough, asking if he needs to sit down all pretty and talk about his feelings. It pisses him off to no end...

Lastly.. I can't talk about Tim without talking about Masky can I? Well... To me Masky was a very disassociated Tim and slightly under the influence of the Operator.. Under Slender, the whole Masky "persona" kinda disappeared (due to it not being the operator and also because Tim stopped really fighting against doing the killings) so it's just him and his own brain doing the murdering..

#i have more about Tim i thinks... but then i'd have to get into the whole slender zalgo operator nonsense ehe #so this is it for now #tim wright #marble hornets #creepypasta #masky #masky creepypasta #tim creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta headcanons #slender proxy #p.mail

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usmsgutterson · 3 months ago

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Okay, five hours ago I was like "tim gutterson timeline where?? me make one" and now. we have this. a timeline is in the post but it's rough, and this is more of a post that has a lot of information and headcanons in a rambled out format because whenever something gets stuck in my head, I write how I talk and I don't feel like editing this to make it shorter, so. yeah.

OKAY SO!! Going off of the assumption that's part canon and part headcanon that Tim would've joined the military at least within the year he graduated, you can't just join the army ranger snipers on a whim. You usually start in a differing unit (typically something like infantry, as far as what google said) and then you join the rangers and then you have to either volunteer or be recommended for sniper school, and it is a whole fuckin process that I have so much in my little head about. this is 20 gallons of information in a 10 gallon head and I feel like I'm going to explode.

OKAY, SO!! I have this little thing in my brain that's telling me Tim would've worked for at least three or four years in infantry before completing the ranger assessment and selection program, then he'd spend at least another three or four years working in the rangers before getting himself into the army ranger sniper school in one way or the next. As for length of schooling I've seen anywhere from 4-8 weeks.

for deployments I've seen varying lengths, but commonly I've seen around 3-6 months with the max being twelve. Leave is also pretty short for army ranger snipers (2-4 weeks) for I'm assuming mental reasons--they're trained to keep sharp all the time and short amounts of time for leave before they're back in combat keep their minds as sharp as possible.

Doing the math on that so far, if Tim joined the military at 18-19 years old, he would've been working in infantry until he was 21-23, then went from infantry to working in the rangers and worked with them until he was 25-27 before going through the sniper training and becoming a sniper around the same age as he was when he would've been recommended for sniper school.

Say he leaves the military entirely after his three total tours as a sniper, he would've been discharged when he was around 26-29 and in the military for around a decade. My math might be wrong (I have a brain that likes to go weeeeeee every time something kicks my interest up so. often times my head moves faster than my fingers can type and math has never really been my strongest suit) but even then, even if it's wrong, I feel like the latest he would've left the military would've been around 30 years old.

Okay, so to put years and dates and shit to this timeline, here we have the roughened out timeline of Tim Gutterson:

1980: we'll say around 1980 for a birth year bc Jacob Pitts was born in late 1979 so 1980 isn't that far off. I feel in my chest that Tim was born somewhere between September and December because I know people born in between September and December (with the only exception being october, I do not know anyone with an october birthdate) and the ones born in September, particularly, are the same breed of sarcastic Tim turns into after he leaves the military, a.k.a the one we see in the show.

1998: tim graduates high school yay!! He takes the ASVAB and goes about the whole of the military recruitment process, joins infantry to start.

2002: okay so going with the four year thing, Tim would work in infantry until around 2002-ish, at which point he takes the RASP and joins the rangers.

2006: after working in the rangers for four years, he gets recommended to join the snipers yay!! yay for timothy!! he's around 26 at this point and after sniper school he joins the 75th ranger regiment.

also 2006: let's say his first deployment occurs in the same year as when he becomes a sniper. It lasts six months and he gets about a months worth of leave in the aftermath. for ease of purpose and also ease of math, let's say that this deployment begins in June of 2006, ends in December, and the leave takes him from december to january.

2007: he gets deployed again in late january, and the deployment lasts until around the middle to late middle of July. It's his second and final deployment to Afghanistan, and after two weeks of leave, he's deployed again in August.

2008: after being on deployment through his 27th birthday, he comes home in february of 2008.

The timeline for military stuff ends right there if you're following the loose canon that exists (I say loose because the wikipedia states that Art only indicated a t l e a s t three tours total as an army ranger sniper. At least is not an exact number but instead the absolute minimum number of tours he did as a sniper.) but for me?? personally, I don't. I feel like he'd have at least another tour or two under his belt because he seems the stubbornly dedicated type and he knows that leaving means going back home when there's not really a home to go back to I feel like he'd prolong it at least a little bit.

If you follow the shows canon, Tim kind of just fucks around a little bit until he goes to Glynco when he's around 33-34 years old. It's said in the show in the first season that Tim is the office newbie who's been there less than a year when Raylan comes in, but I subscribe to the headcanon that Tim would've worked for six or so months, if not a full year, in an office down in georgia before he was transfered to Kentucky.

OKAY, TIMELINE ASIDE, tim would've seen a lot of shit in the like, decade or so he worked in the military. I've been reading on reddit a little bit and the bond we see in season four during Tims scenes with Mark makes a lot of sense--it was a common theme in what I did read that the army ranger snipers had a lot of cameraderie with each other and from what the reading I did told me, a lot of them went on to miss it after they left.

I need to stop rambling now so I can focus on the fic i'm trying to write but like,, if anyone wants to blab at me about this, blabbing is encouraged because tim gutterson is not leaving my head until I go to sleep, and I'm not going to go to sleep for at least a little while yet.

#tim gutterson #justified #justified fx #jacob pitts

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