#death? i guess?

[crow-aeris]

okay yall, the brain worms are at it again....

-----

Jason screams, surging forward as tendrils erupted from what he had thought was an innocuous pendant.

"RED! WING- SHIT. ROB-”

"GO!" Dick, that self sacrificing IDIOT screams, clawing at the oily tendrils before being pulled toward the center and vanishing in a burst of golden light.

Jason jerks forward, fear like never before seizes his chest as he couldn't get his limbs to move. Terror pounded at his temples as he saw Tim hacking at the tendrils with a sharp batarang, the barest crack in his composed appearance was noticeable, and their eyes met from across the room. Even behind the domino mask, Jason could see a fierce resolution in his brother's expression (and the fear and knowing buried behind it).

"STOP STANDING THERE!" Tim shouts, and Jason barely manages to dodge the tendrils striking at him, "GO! GET HELP! G- GO!"

Jason curses, fighting back tears as Tim joined Dick in erupting into a dense smog of golden glow before rushing toward where Damian's unconscious body was hidden.

He tried to grab the kid- he tried. he TRIED- but he was too. fucking. late.

The disgusting black tendrils snatched damian right from his arms. His surroundings faded to a dull buzz for the briefest of moments before slamming back into him,

"GIVE. THEM. BACK!" Jason wailed screamed, snatching the gun from his side before pointing it at the pendant. He forced the primal terror away and ignored the third burst of gold and the sharp-pointed darkness surging toward him. He planted his feet, sucking in a shaky breath and yanked the trigger.

The sound of bullets filled the air, but… but nothing.

The tendrils snared him. The oily substance coated his skin, and he grits his jaw and continues to shoot. This was- this was their last. chance.

....

it doesn't work.

it doesn’t fucking work.

Jason screams, gold filling his vision as every single fiber of his body felt like it was being shredded and burned.

but just before his entirety was lost to the creeping darkness, the sound of SHATTERING filled the air, and everything… disappeared.

But… but that wasn't it, was it. No, it wasn’t, because nothing could EVER be easy when it comes to him, could it?

Against all fucking odds, Jason Peter Todd wakes up from death for the second time... but everything felt… wrong. Different. Uncanny… And why was he shorter???

He wrestles himself out of bed ignoring how achingly familiar the room was before finding a mirror suspiciously where he knew it would be, and seeing the reflection was all the confirmation needed.

He was... little. Small. Innocent, a pure little robin with his wings in tact…

Jason waits for the rage, the anger that accompanied by GREEN-GREEN-GREEN… but it never comes… Interesting…

More differences were that his hair was his natural black that gleamed a dakr red-brown in the right lighting, no white streak in sight. The scars sustained after his pit dip were also missing, and his eyes were still a brilliant cerulean hue...

What. The. Hell? Dear god, Jason utterly loathed time travel bullshit, and this entire clusterfuck was about as bull-fucking-shit as anything could ever get.

His eyes traced the image of his face incredulously, trailing down his chin before landing on a… familiar pendant. Jason snarled wordlessly, anger and frustration rising to his chest as he grabs the wretched thing and hurled it.

The pendant smashes against the wall, and Jason’s ears are suddenly filled with his brothers’ aguished and pained cries.

He lurches forward, guilt slamming into his chest as he gingerly picks up the despicable fucking fucknut of a goddamned object. If it had a mother (it’s creator?), Jason hopes the pendant has to someday watch them BURN. (And sure, it might not be logical to blame an inanimate object for his issues, but his brothers were missing, and he has to go through puberty all over again. Frankly, jason thinks he’s coping pretty fucking well compared to the duffle bag incident…)

There was a deep black string threaded through a miniscule hole at the top, not too unlike the tendrils that yanked him and his brothers away. Jason’s hands were shaking, and you could not find him dead wearing that stupid fucking bullshit-mechaniced deathtrap around his fucking neck (which was now distinctively bare of a thin scar that he had matching with tim), but he couldn’t throw it, lest Dick, Tim, and Damian’s souls were actually trapped in that godforsaken fucker of a pendant.

“Jay?” he hears his mom (could he even call her that? she- she wasn’t sheila, but catherine was a thousand times better… what was he even supposed to do???) call for him, “i heard a crash? is everything okay?”

“Y-yeah!” he calls back- oh god, was he always this- this fucking squeaky?! No fucking wonder bruce snatched him up, jesus christ. For fuck’s sake, he would’ve snatched himself up!

“Are you sure?” Catherine says, knocking gently at the door, “you don’t sound too well, jay.”

Jason swallows past the lump in his throat, feeling the sharp edges of the pendant dig uncomfortably into the palms of his uncalloused hands, “just- just a little cold, i promise!”

“…Okay, hon. Just let me know if you need anything, alright? i love you.”

“I love you too, mom,” Jason echoes, the words feeling like bitter ash on his tongue as the footsteps fade. Even if he was now a fucking pipsqueak, he needs to catalogue any injuries or changes he went through… which was how he discovers an almost tattoo-like marking of a black and gold skeletal bird resting above his beating heart. Poking at it didn’t hurt, but it made the pendant in his hand warm…

He had an idea… a plan if you will, and all it takes is a phone….

=====

PART 2, 3, 4

[thats-no-moon-lesbian]

Gotta say my favorite moment from the Hozier concert was him saying "I almost cracked up at the beginning of that song. There's a person in the front row wearing a shirt that says 'Hozier? I hardly know her!'" and then once the laughter died down, "Now I'm going to lighten the mood a little with a song about hitting an animal with your car"

[sadclowncentral]

when i got my medical certificate i very confidently answered the question "what do you do if a person becomes unconscious?" with "remove from the room immediately" only to be met with puzzled silence by the instructor and that's when i learned that the deeply ingrained nautical fear and grim reality of seamen and their rescuers asphyxiating in enclosed spaces due to build up of toxic gas or especially lack of oxygen does not translate to land.

[elbiotipo]

I still think we should celebrate Kissinger's death even if he didn't face justice and lived a confortable life, just so that everybody knows what a piece of shit he was, just so that when some Great Stateman like I don't fucking know Biden tries to eulogize him he is flooded with insults and mockery y quede bien para el culo, so that nobody can even PRETEND he had any worth, millions should celebrate he's fucking dead and this is how he will be remembered, as an imperialist criminal hated all over the world with no redeeming qualities, none should be able to even pretend he was some some great man except for the magnitude of his crimes

[nicecrumbart]

Keep thinking about that one scene in secret life

[ovenproofowl]

i'm dying over that reveal. truly. truly. because on paper, the concept that ruby's mother was just an ordinary person and what made her so special was this belief everyone had feeding into her own mythology, creating something larger than life, is actually pretty cool. and, yeah, from wild blue yonder we know the doctor absolutely handed the power of suggestion over to an unknown entity that made it something tangible.. so it works.

sort of

but like. that 15 year old girl decided to drop her baby off at a church in the middle of the night in the most ostentatious, medieval looking cloak and then proceed to point mencingly at the road sign on the off chance the security camera would pick her up and that would somehow give someone the idea to name her daughter after said road sign??

i'm just saying... if that's the way you handle giving your baby up for adoption then there is absolutely nothing ordinary about you

[mequetrefis]

free him

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

going through my old journals as part of therapy homework and i'm reading a section written in the emotional wreckage of a full-on breakdown when i get hit with this line:

There is never a satisfying answer to ‘Why didn’t they love me?’

like wow babe. good fucking point

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

so theres a lot of posts going round about the titanic wreck and the missing submarines; all of them that ive seen have made very good points about how shoddy the submersible seemed to be and how the company decided to wait eight hours before reporting it, and how this is a play stupid games, win stupid prizes for the ultra-wealthy who paid like 250grand a ticket for this thing.

but what i havent seen any posts about is how the titanic wreck is a gravesite and this tourism is disturbing the graves of over 1500 people.

sometimes its kinda hard to remember that those on the titanic were real people; it was over a century ago, the story has been romanticised in so many ways (like the movie), theres conspiracies theories galore that cloud everything with misinformation, but at the end of the day, those who died were real people.

do you want their names? heres a list of them; its a long read. and for fun, heres another site where you can see photos of the children and babies who died aboard.

their bodies are long gone and their lives long forgotten. all we have to remember them and honour them is the wreck itself. its all we have of them and it is their gravesite. its their tombstone.

caitlin doughty/ask a morticians video on the great lakes discusses the topic well, and why we should leave these shipwrecks alone because again, they are the gravesites of all the souls who died aboard those ships. we rarely have bodies to recover so we really are left just with the wreck.

and what really upsets me about titanic tourism is how the majority of those who died that night were not the ultra-wealthy rich folks you might picture when you think of ocean liners.

61% of the first class passengers survived

42% of the second class passengers survived

24% of the third class passengers survived

24% of the crew survived **

the majority of those who died that night were regular folk; not to be cliche, but they were just like us. titanics wreck is not only a gravesite for over 1500 people, its also a majority working class gravesite.

and look at us now. look at what were doing. the ultra-wealthy can pay the equivalent of peanuts to them to disturb a mass gravesite of the exact kind of people they exploit today to hold onto all their wealth. 

its easy to point and laugh at these dumb idiots in their playstation controller submarine, seemingly held together with super glue and duct tape, but its also important to remember that what they were doing was simply disturbing a gravesite for fun. though the company does research, these guys werent down there to conduct research, they were there so they could brag about it to their friends. its like “climbing mount everest” while your sherpa does all the work.

if you cant tell, i have a lot of feelings about this. shipwrecks and ocean liners are one of my special interests and im currently building a (beginner’s) model of the titanic, for fucks sake. but i would never go down to see that wreck because its a fucking gravesite and we should not be disturbing their final resting place.

[apllecrash]

yeah, geysers shooting from my eyes

[dcxdpdabbles]

Tim: I know who you are.

Danny, squinting down at him wearing Hello Kitty pjs.: What are you talking about? Who's child is this?

Tim: Batman has gotten too dangerous. He is a threat to himself and others. He needs a Robin to keep him sane. You need to come back to Gotham.

Danny: Kid-

Tim: I have proof! I'll release it all!

Danny sighing: I was just about to have some milk and Oreos. Do you want some?

Later, while Tim is eating his snack, Danny is talking on the phone: No Jazz, of course I'm not Robin! How was I supposed to know that turning off gravity so I could do a crazy hard flip would lead to a literal toddler thinking I was Robin? .....Because apparently, the quadruple somersault can only be done by four people in the world.....I don't know! What am I supposed to do with him? Tim already threatened to become Robin himself! He's so tiny, Jazz! I can't just send him out in the field like that!.........Look, Batman is spiraling. He'll never notice.....yes, I'm sure. How hard can being Robin be? I was already Phantom for a few years.

[uncanny-tranny]

It's honestly frustrating that I've seen non-Russian queer people almost bragging about how they would be illegal in Russia, labeled an extremist or terrorist. Russian queers are in danger, their government has made it clear where it stands, and it's made this effort for the better part of a decade (even longer, perhaps). This will kill people, don't mistake this for a quirky little proclamation from a government, akin to somebody saying the sky is pink. Russian queer people were already expressing their fear, and the least we can do now is express our love for them, and advocate with them.

Russian queer people, I love you. I love you all so much. I am so sorry, I cannot begin to express the grief that I feel, and I hope that you are safe. Words cannot encapsulate how I feel as a non-Russian, and I cannot hope to comprehend how it feels to actually be in this situation.

[ladymariayuri]

my name got rejected by the toontown admins. what should I rename my character

[maiko-coy]

Hey you, Fack you Redesigns your smiling critter (1/4)

[hellinglaozu]

🏮Till Death Do Us Part🏮

[acianoh]

Ed and Mary drinking buddies