On the topic of time travel, we are just scratching the surface!
I'm thinking izuna gets yeeted into the future (maybe a freak accident with the hiraishin when tobirama tries to kill him? Idk, but it has to be canon future) specifically to the point in time shortly before the Uchiha massacre.
Izuna figures out what's going on pretty quickly, and tbh seeing his brothers dream fulfilled with the senju all but gone? Takes the sting out of the betrayal (he only mopes for like a few days) he can work with this! (He's repressing so hard, he wants his aniki, this sucks ass)
First order of business: sneaking into the Uchiha library (because you start with what you know) to figure out a way back home. Which is were he is caught by Itachi, who is at this point debating murdering his whole clan and thus very stressed and hyper vigilant. Also he immediately blurts out something along the lines of "Sasuke?? So the massacre has to happen..." Because his first thought upon seeing izuna is, that his little brother traveled back in time (because let's be real, using Sasuke's face on a too old body does not make sense for an infiltration... also have I mentioned this literal child is stressed af)
Upon which izuna blurts out "what the fuck? What massacre??" And immediately thinks 'ah yes, this boy has mistaken me for his little brother and also what the fuck?' of course he knows the basics about his future clan, he is no amateur, and also they are weirdly relaxed in the walls of this new village...
So now Itachi has to do a 180 re: killing his entire clan because apparently his little brother will grow up even if he doesn't. But what the hell did he do, or what happened, to save them?? His thoughts are rushing by 80 miles an hour but he can't think of anything... Although he could just ask future Sasuke!
Izuna, who doesn't know shit, but is now extremely concerned about this future and also thinks he has a way easier time getting back home if his clan does not die and also this is his clan and he won't let them die now that there are apparently happy little uchihas who aren't dying too young (and holy shit maybe Madara did have a point) spins something about how no, there was no massacre, and noone ever told him about anything because he was so young at the time, yada yada, but he'll totally help itachi-nii, but also he can't tell him too much about the future because hes scared of accidentally changing good things. Acting the little brother isn't actually that difficult when you are a little brother at heart.
So now Itachi (and probably at some point shisui - and holy crap, is that Baby kagamis spawn??) and izuna team up to save their clan in secret! It's a good thing izuna in specific has absolutely no problem with being suspicious as hell about non-uchiha and getting rid of them if necessary :))) (Itachi is conflicted, but also .. if it works? At least his little brother fits well into their lifestyle? And won't be as depressed as Itachi?)
Meanwhile:
Baby Sasuke: I want my aniki, why doesn't he have time for me anymore? :(
Itachi: I get to spend so much time with Sasuke, this is great!!! :) (if you ignore the problem)
And so this unlikely team up saves the day! I wonder what grandpa Madara is up to...?
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original prompt: Gotham Academy's Mentorship Program
scene 1
table of contents
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scene 2: tim’s arch nemesis
“Have a good day at school Masters Tim, Thomas, and Damian.” Alfred wished, as they all got out of the car.
“Later, Alfred.” Duke waved as the car left the drop off zone.
The three of them walked together until Tim remembered the conversation from Bruce’s study. He peered over his shoulder at Damian who was trying to act nonchalant as he ditched the principal's office. Tim turned and stopped right in front of Damian ``Ohoho, and where do you think you’re going Damian?” Sneaky little plans for a sneaky little kid, huh.
“Tsk.” He rolled his eyes at being caught
Tim smirked at him, the words hillbilly civilians echoing in his head. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the principal’s office?”
“I was just on my way.” Damian said, trying to seem unbothered as he walked away.
“Y’know one of these days he’s gonna snap and finally murder you.” Duke mused next to him, before they split into their separate hallways.
“Better people than him have tried.” They shared a small laugh. Finding his usual seat in homeroom, Tim scrolled through his phone until class started.
At the bell Ms. Kross stepped to the teacher’s podium to start the daily announcements. “Hello class, happy Wednesday.” She smiled at them, “You’re all chipper as usual,” she commented humorously to herself at the silent audience. “Well today is the day I’m sure all of you have been waiting anxiously for. Before I announce everyone’s placements after the midterms, I just want to remind you all that grades only matter so much in the grand scheme of things, and if you did not score as well as you would’ve liked, there's still time to do better.” Ms. Kross gave them the yearly pep talk, as the system booted.
Tim had been attending Gotham Academy since the first grade, and he was familiar with the ins and outs of the system now, as opposed to the many students that often filtered in and out of the Academy. Gotham Academy is one of the best schools on this side of the coast and many affluent families would send their kids here. So naturally the Academy was incredibly competitive and so much as one point could move you from 5th place to 50th.
The competitive atmosphere of Gotham Academy had never been too hard of a burden on Tim’s shoulder. Since grade 3 Tim has easily been placed first in his grade without so much as a sweat, no matter the amount of Robin, or Red Robin responsibilities on his shoulders. Knowing this year would be no different, Tim let his chair lean back leisurely as his other classmates sat forward in anticipation.
“With no further ado, this year’s first place as for now is Daniel Fenton.” Yup, just like every other- Wait.
“What?” Tim asked, the front two legs of his chair hitting the floor hard. Tim looked at the screen in disbelief, only to have his suspicions confirmed.
“Mr. Drake, is there a problem?” Mr. Kross asked, surprised.
“Are you sure this is right?” Tim asked incredulously pointing an accusing finger at the screen, there's no way that he- Timothy Drake - placed second?
“Yes, Mr. Drake, I assure you this sheet has been double, triple, even quadruple checked. There are no errors.” Ms. Kross smiled exasperatedly.
Ms. Kross continued down the list of names in the class, announcing their places but Tim wasn’t paying attention. Tim glared at the spreadsheet at the front of the class, waiting for it to correct itself. But no changes were made. The name placed at the top of the list had been burned into Tim’s skull.
Who the fuck is Daniel James Fenton?
----
Bonus:
Bruce waited his turn in the pick up line, ready to see his kids' surprise when they found out that he came to pick them up instead of Alfred. When it was finally his turn to pull up to the curb he smiled happily as Tim, Damian and Duke entered the car.
“Surprise.” Bruce smiled at them.
“Oh, Bruce. Alfred didn’t come today?” Duke asked with a smile.
“Nope!” He said driving into the street. “Since it’s just us today, how about we go grab ice cream?” Bruce offered, looking at his passengers in the rearview mirror.
“Ooh ice cream after school!” Duke cheered.
“I could appreciate some ice cream.” Damian nodded from his seat.
“Oh how did meeting Daniel go today, Damian?” Bruce remembered.
“It was fine. Daniel is not entirely despicable.” Bruce blinked in surprise, Damian seemed to have taken a great liking to the kid if he was already calling him by his first name, especially on day one. “Not entirely despicable” and “it was fine” in Damian-speak usually meant that he had had a phenomenal time.
“That’s great, buddy.” Bruce turned to tell him when he stopped at a red light. “Duke, how was your Chemistry Test?”
“It went okay, I think. We’ll just have to wait till the results come out, I guess.” Duke shrugged.
Bruce nodded at the information. He was doing a good job. Engage, Assess, Appreciate. That’s what Dick had said.
Tim. There was something today, he had mentioned it offhandedly. What was it? Right! The placement release.
“Tim, how did your-”
“Shut up.” Tim seethed from the back seat. Bruce saw the irritation radiating off of him and decided that today, nor any day, would he be ready to deal with that.
“Ok.”
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"could you please come and get me?" I'm BEGGING🙏🙏🙏
For this prompt game! (And also this one!) (Andthis one too lol)
(Can be read as a follow-up to this)
“…and, like, everyone goes through phases!”
Hakoda hastily unfolds from his very undignified stretch at the muffled sound of Sokka’s voice, wincing at the protest of his sore back. Bato keeps saying he’s eventually going to value his posterior chain enough to stop taking red eyes no matter how cheap they are, and one day Hakoda is actually going to listen instead of making jokes about posteriors.
“—and sisters, you know? They never let go of anything no matter how old you all get, and they always take things too far—”
Hakoda glances again around the dim lit, tidy shop as if maybe the angle of the sunlight will have changed, vaguely pleased and surprised that Sokka is here so early as the faint jangle of the admittedly-huge keyring filters through the door.
It’s hours past when they usually open, of course, but judging by the timing of Sokka’s late-night-scarfing-down-dinner phone calls, he’s been working plenty past when they usually close.
“—not in a creepy way or anything, obviously. Just a joke. A bad one!”
Not that Hakoda was really worried. And he was right to now really worry! There’s nothing blown up, no scorch marks or tools missing because Sokka really needed a good shearing weapon for his robot-killing robot, no half-deconstructed engines and piling-up repairs because Sokka is sure he’s figured out a way to get more efficiency out of the whole system.
“—and that one is totally new, anyway. I had no idea it was even there! And so, um. High definition.”
Those this Audi sitting in the middle out of the shop, which is very out of place for Wolf Cove to begin with, let alone in Hakoda’s shop…
“And I mean, you know how sisters are!”
Hakoda does have some questions about that.
That Jesk kid better not be involved, or whatever his name was...
“Or—right?” Sokka’s voice is suddenly clear as he finally finds the right key to unlock the office door. “You—maybe? I mean—you—or—”
“Yeah,” a husky, raspy voice cuts in, faintly amused, and Hakoda pauses in surprise as he realizes Sokka isn’t on the phone. “I have a sister.”
Hakoda glances curiously through the office window as Sokka flicks the lights on, bright light illuminating the office and the break room and the car bays one by one, revealing his son—dressed for work, not starving, not injured, good—and the lean, black-on-black clad boy behind him, and Hakoda feels his eyebrow jump up in surprise.
Ah. He recognizes a pretentiously pre-worn designer leather jacket when he sees one. That would be where the car came from, then.
“And,” Sokka hurries on, darting nervously around the office as he wakes up the computer and sets down his coffee and Hakoda’s other eyebrow slides up to join the first. He can recognize Sokka’s cover-his-ass voice anywhere. “It’s not like I would recognize you out of context anyway without, you know. Or with, or—and so, like, it's not like I was being weird or anything, or like, trying to lock you in the basement or something, or—fuck.” Sokka scrubs his hands over his face before pasting on a bright, game smile and marching toward the car bays. “Yeah, I’m just going to stop talki—Dad!”
“Sokka,” Hakoda greets him, giving the other boy—not a boy, Sokka hates being called a boy, he reminds himself—a curious look. “And…?”
“Oh,” the boy blinks, freezing a little. “Uh—”
“I didn’t realize you were coming back,” Sokka hops in, hurrying over. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I just wanted to grab a few things from the house, see you and Katara a bit,” Hakoda assures him, reaching out to give Sokka’s shoulder a squeeze and offering a smile to the other boy as he trails Sokka after a moment across the shop floor. “Who’s this?”
“How’s Gran Gran?” Sokka asks as the boy hesitates, mouth half-open.
“She’s doing well, things are coming along,” Hakoda says, cocking his head to get a better look at the boy. He’s definitely familiar—not surprising, with those nearly-gold eyes and scar and the kind of cheekbones that Sokka loves to trip over—but Hakoda can’t quite place… “Are you one of Sokka’s college friends?” Shit, Hakoda should know those. He at least knows it isn’t…what was his name, Tamu? It’s definitely not him…
“Ah, no,” the boy says, shifting on his feet and flicking a quick look to Sokka. “Wh—"
“How long are you back for!” Sokka says over top of him, eyes wide with interest and that’s definitely his cover-his-ass voice again…
“Just a few days,” Hakoda says absently. Is it one of Sokka’s high school band buddies? They used to always be hanging around the basement and crowding into the kitchen. “I haven’t seen around town,” he says slowly, the sense that he knows this kid niggling at the edge of his thoughts.
“…No,” the kid agrees after a beat, equally slow.
“Yeah,” Sokka says quickly, voice coming out high. “He’s not from around here!”
“This is your car?” Hakoda asks, because the kid might not look much like a trombone players but he does look like a speed demon.
“Uh, yeah,” the kid says, glancing at the sleek red lines where Sokka’s set the Audi out with pride of place dead center in the middle of the shop. “Sorry?”
“Sorry?” Hakoda blinks, momentarily distracted from the nagging familiarity of the kid.
“I broke down,” the kid shrugs, apologetic, and Hakoda can only give him a bemused look.
“It’s what we’re here for,” he says. And they’re certainly going to charge him for it, with a car like that—and Hakoda will be making sure he’s charged. He recognizes that look on Sokka’s face…
“Right!” Sokka says, overly bright. “Car repair!”
“A full-service operation,” the kid murmurs, cutting Sokka a sideways look.
“We strive to be,” Hakoda says proudly, giving Sokka his own curious look as his son chokes a little, blushing. Oh yeah. Hakoda is definitely making sure this kid gets charged.
“Car repairs!” Sokka says loudly, clearly powering through…whatever is going on. “We’ve had a lot of those! Want to—” he glances quickly around. “—the books! Want to see them? Or the—I can get you up to speed?” he suggests half-desperately. “On everything?”
Hakoda makes a vaguely affirming noise, listening with half an ear and mostly watching the kid who is in turn watching Sokka, looking faintly bemused by and more than a little curious about Sokka’s immediate, exhaustive, relieved, highly detailed account of the past month.
Maybe he’s a new teacher in one of Sokka’s art classes? He thought they were all old men by Sokka’s description, but this one seems like an artsy type. Though why he’d be here and not back in Republic City…
The kid gives Sokka another sidelong look through his lashes that really isn’t all that subtle to anyone other than Sokka, and ah, that could be a reason.
And he can tell Sokka likes his friend back from the fidgety, half-nervous, half-hyper way he’s shifting his weight and playing with his bracelets and rings and he better be fucking taking those off before work, Hakoda’s not trying to have anyone lose a damn body part inside an engine. At least the earrings are out…
Hakoda thinks, though, that he really would have heard of the kid if he’s following Sokka cross-country to keep him company. But then, maybe that’s why he has the persistent, nagging sense that he’s met or at least seen this kid befo—
“Oh!” Hakoda suddenly exclaims, snapping his fingers as realization hits. “I know you!”
“You—!” Sokka trips a little as the kid startles, giving Hakoda a half-surprised, half-cagey look. “You should really hear about theorderthatPakkutriedto—”
“You’re the boy from the poster over Sokka’s bed!” Hakoda says, triumphant and Sokka cuts off with a high, strangled noise, the kid opening his mouth and nothing coming out.
“The one where’s he’s all shirtless and oiled up?” Hakoda prompts when Sokka doesn’t say anything, pleased to have placed it. “Remember, you got that fancy photo editing program for it? So you could cut him out of the full shot and enlarge the size? And Bato took you to that special print shop in Whale Harbor to get it done out on the special poster paper?”
The kid slowly transfers his stare from Hakoda to Sokka, who is looking more and more like a deer trying to freeze to avoid the notice of an oncoming car.
“You know, for your eighteenth birthday?” Hakoda reminds him, concern fluttering in his chest when Sokka doesn’t immediately latch onto the topic like he always does. “Because you couldn’t find any magazines big enough to see from that far away?” He definitely isn't misremembering, he knows he isn't...right?
The kid slowly closes his mouth, eyebrow inching up higher and higher.
“And you’d filled up all your wall space, so you needed to move to other surfaces? And Katara said you weren’t allowed to put anything up in the shower?” No, he's definitely right. Hakoda had been quietly and intensely relieved by the shower edict enough to be sure.
“I,” Sokka finally says, mouth working, “I, uh.”
“Didn’t you recognize him?” Hakoda frowns, reaching out to feel Sokka’s forehead.
“Yeah, Sokka,” the kid—shit, Hakoda still doesn’t know his name though—says, pointed, “Didn’t you recognize me?”
“I…need to go now,” Sokka announces, suddenly fumbling in his pockets.
“What?” Hakoda blinks, confusion threading alongside his pleasure at finally placing the face.
“What?” the kid half-laughs, startled.
But Sokka just whips out his phone, already marching away, his face crimson and voice echoing off the high ceilings, “Katara? Yeah, I’m—yeah, I’m still in town. Yes, I know that you're on nights, I—yes, I—look, could you please come and get me?” A pause. “No, I—actually, yes. I need to go die now, please. Not here.”
Hakoda stares after Sokka as he finally shuts the office door behind him, bemused, scratching the back of his head and shifting his attention to the kid who looks like he doesn’t know whether to worry or laugh again.
“Well, I’m Hakoda,” he eventually offers, extending his hand and biting the bullet that it’s okay to not know this one’s name, they probably haven't actually met before, “I’m his father.”
“Zuko,” the kid says after a beat, accepting his handshake—strong grip, callouses, no eye contact but that’s okay considering he’s looking after Sokka. “I’m, uh. The guy from the ceiling?”
Hakoda huffs, half-amused and giving him another quick look—and then his hand a slightly harder squeeze. “Grown up a bit, have you?” A lot less oil, too. And a lot more clothes.
Same cheekbones, though.
“Uh—so has he? Since then?” Zuko hazards, glancing toward the office where Sokka is…screaming into a pillow, by the looks of it.
“One could say that," Hakoda says after a beat, thinking of Sokka’s last trip to Whale Harbor and the poster tube he’d come back with happily cradled in his arms. “But maybe not as much as you’d think.”
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