#//sorry this took a bajillion years | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

skyward-floored · 2 years

Note

Time drinks a poe. Everyone is disturbed.

This fic spiraled out of control and ended up just being rather ridiculous and I was going to make it better but I’m sick of looking at it so here’s Time drinks a poe: the (short) fic

(Also thanks to everybody who told me what they think poes taste like, the responses were all fantastic)

————————————————————

“Ugh, poes. What a pain!” Wind grumbled as he swiped at a ghost, and Time had to agree with him.

They’d ended up in a graveyard somehow, apart from the others in an unknown era. The place was swarming with all sorts of ghosts, ghinis and poes and numerous others Time didn’t recognize all swooping down at them. He and Wind were fighting back to back, and fortunately the battle was going quickly despite how it was just the two of them.

A poe from Wind’s era swung at Time’s face, and he sliced it away in the nick of time, the ghost disappearing with an angry shriek.

“Better than redeads at least,” Time said in reply to Wind’s earlier statement.

Wind nodded rapidly as he dodged a poe’s lantern to the face. “Oh yeah, give me a hundred poes to a redead.”

The number of ghosts were rapidly dwindling, and several of the monsters simply disappeared, deciding the fight wasn’t worth it. Time sliced his blade through what seemed to be the last one, one of his own poes, and sighed in relief as it faded away into nothing but a small purplish flame.

Wind huffed out a breath from next to him, sounding tired but triumphant, and he turned around to look at Time, a pleased look on his face.

“We got them,” he grinned, then caught sight of the flame the poe had left behind.

The sailor’s face lit up with curiosity and he came up next to it, peering at the oddly colored flame with interest. His eyebrow quirked up when he saw the face wavering in the middle of it, and he gave Time an inquiring look.

“What’s that?” he asked, and in lieu of answering Time pulled a bottle from his pouch and scooped the flame up inside.

“It’s called a poe’s soul,” he explained, holding it out so Wind could better see. “There’s not too much you can do with them, but they have a few uses.”

Wind studied it for a minute, letting out a small huh at the sight.

“If we need the bottle I’ll empty it,” Time continued as he pocketed the bottle with a smile, “but for now it may as well hold something. Always good to put bottles to use.”

Wind nodded, and followed after him as they left the graveyard. “No kidding. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wished a bottle I had wasn’t empty.”

Time chuckled.

“You and me both.”

(...)

The strange contents of Time’s bottle didn’t come up again for a few days, during which the heroes had all reunited and were now making their way to what was reportedly a fairy fountain nearby.

Several of them had been injured while separated, and the sight of the cave when they finally reached it was a great relief. Time heard several sighs of relief as they entered the softly lit area, the atmosphere gentle and welcoming.

Glowing circles of light flitted around the water, chiming happily at the sight of the nine who’d found their domain. They nearly swarmed Time, and Hyrule and Warriors who’d been next to him, and Wind laughed as a few settled on the old man’s head and shoulders.

Twilight sighed in relief as one zipped over to him and spun around his arm, fixing the sprain he’d received, and Legend made a similar sound when one twirled around his leg. Obviously the limp he’d insisted wasn’t an issue had been bothering him more than he admitted.

Time himself simply settled down on a level rock by the edge of the fountain, content with a rest after the hike to get here.

“Should we try to get a few fairies to take with us?” Sky asked as one gently fixed a scratch on his cheek. “We don’t have many healing supplies at the moment.”

Time quirked a smile. “If you can catch them, be my guest.”

Wild perked up at that, and stood up from where he’d only just sat down after a fairy had healed a small gash on his arm.

“I’ve always wondered if fairies minded us putting them in bottles,” Wind said, watching as a sprite flew past and settled into Warriors’ hair. “Mine always seemed annoyed at it, but they healed me anyways so I figured it was okay. No great fairies ever told me off at least.”

“Most typical fairies consider it a game,” Time explained, watching as Wild tried to sneak up on an unsuspecting fairy, “if you can catch them, they consider sticking around and healing you your prize. Not all of course, but most do.”

He smiled as the fairy noticed Wild and zipped away, despite the champion jumping up to try and catch her. “Of course, there’s also an easier way.”

Wind watched him intently as Time reached a hand up and gently scooped one of the fairies resting on his shoulder onto his palm with the utmost of care. He then drew it in front of his face, giving the sprite a warm smile.

“Would you agree to coming with us?” he asked, and the fairy chimed happily in agreement.

Time felt his smile grow and he reached a hand into his pouch. As he rifled around though, his smile slipped, a slight frown appearing before he pulled out the bottle with the poe’s soul inside. He held it in one hand while he continued to rifle with the other, than sighed, closing the pouch.

“I’m afraid I’m out of space, just a moment,” he apologized to the fairy as he uncorked the lid.

Then he knocked back the jar, drinking the fiery soul inside.

Wind started in surprise, and Sky paled from next to him while Warriors made a strange noise as he watched their leader nonchalantly wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.

The other heroes froze in whatever they were doing and stared.

“Time!” Sky gaped, looking green in the face. “You- you-“

“What?”

“You just— drank that?!” Wind squeaked, looking both disgusted and a bit thrilled.

Time raised an eyebrow. “How else was I going to empty the bottle?”

“Couldn’t you have just... poured it out?” Hyrule said from nearby, looking mildly disturbed.

“And leave it here for the fairies to deal with?” Time asked, his eyebrow still raised.

“Leave it for the— was that even safe to eat?!” Legend screeched, “it had a face! It was on fire!”

“I’ve eaten them before and I’m still here aren’t I?”

“You’ve done this before?!”

Time’s face took on a rather bemused expression. “You haven’t? There’s a first.”

Legend blinked at him, then dragged a hand down his face, shaking his head as he muttered something about ‘crazy old men’.

Twilight shuddered as he walked over, a disgusted look on his face. “Ew. I can’t imagine actually eating one, having them in your mouth is bad enough.”

“WHAT?!”

Four started to ask the rancher for details with a curious look in his eye, and Wild slipped over to Time, his eyes shining bright with a manic sort of curiosity.

“What did it taste like?” he asked eagerly.

Wind leaned closer, eager for Time’s answer as well, and the old man smacked his lips and grimaced.

“Like charbroiling some raspberries then mixing them with bubbles, ashes, alcohol and chili peppers.”

He licked his lips. “And death.”

Wild took out a small book and scribbled something down, muttering a quiet fascinating under his breath.

“Why are you writing that down champion WHY ARE YOU WRITING THAT—“

“Was it hot?” Wild continued, ignoring Legend’s screeching. “It didn’t look like it burned your tongue at all even though it was all fiery.”

“It was more of a cold sort of burn you know? Like so freezing it actually felt hot.”

“Fascinating.”

Wind and Sky turned their heads back and forth between Wild as he frantically noted down the various flavors of a poe’s soul and Time who continued to nonchalantly describe how it felt sitting in his stomach, and Sky looked sicker by the minute while a grin stretched across Wind’s face.

“Please tell me that’s not his recipe book he’s writing that in,” Warriors said in a slightly horrified voice from a few feet away.

“...It is,” Four confirmed with a resigned look.

Time finished his explanation while holding out the jar, allowing the fairy to flit inside and settle herself at the bottom. He thanked her, and she gave him a happy chime in response before he carefully placed her inside his bag.

“So where do you get those soul-things anyway?” Hyrule asked curiously, and Legend turned on him with an incredulous look.

“Not you too traveler don’t even start—“

“It’s all that’s left after you destroy a poe,” Time explained while rifling through his bag, ignoring Legend’s look, “the ones in my time anyways. A part of them stubbornly lingers in this world, and as long as you don’t dilly-dally they’re easy to collect.”

Then he reached into his pouch and pulled out a jar containing another poe’s soul.

He held it out towards Wild, who practically lit up at the offering.

“Fortunately I’ve got an extra,” he said with a smile, and Legend threw his hands up and walked away.

Wind bounced excitedly in his seat as Wild popped the lid, Twilight looking at his protégé in absolute dismay.

“Wild do not eat that—“

He hadn’t even finished speaking before Wild chugged the entire thing, never breaking eye contact with him.

Sky quickly joined Legend on the other side of the cave, looking green.

Wild grinned as he lowered the jar, and Wind and Hyrule cheered as Twilight let out a world-weary sigh. Then the champion doubled over and broke into a wheezing cough, faintly pinkish smoke accompanying his hacking.

“Oh Hylia,” he wheezed as Twilight ran to his side, “that- that was abso- absolutely—“

He coughed out another faint cloud of smoke, and Wind glanced over at Time, who couldn’t help the amused smirk that ended up on his face.

“Wild, are you okay?” Twilight asked somewhat frantically, and the champion held up a finger as he continued to wheeze. He managed to get his coughs under control after a minute, but didn’t immediately move.

Then he looked up and flashed them all a huge grin.

“That was exactly how you described it.”

Wind and Hyrule burst into cheers as Four and Warriors exchanged amused looks that had a fair amount of exasperation in them as well, and Twilight slapped his face in disbelief.

“I can’t believe you two actually drank those,” he groaned, and Time smirked, sending his protege a mischievous look.

“I don’t see why it’s so strange. After all, I do recall you eating an entire jar of bee larvae one time,” he said casually.

The cave went quiet again as everybody turned to Twilight.

“...I was hungry?” he said weakly.

“Everybody here is insane!” Legend yelled from the other side of the fairy fountain where he’d obviously been listening.

“Old news vet!” Warriors called back, causing several of the heroes and fairies to titter in amusement.

“Strange food aside...” Wind said once he’d finished laughing, “I never even thought to ask a fairy if she wanted to come with me. I mean, aside from the ones that were my companions anyway.”

Time gave him a smile. “You’d be surprised to know what you can get if you merely ask sailor.”

Wind cocked his head, then smirked a bit.

“So if I asked you if you could help me find another poe soul so I could try eating one too..?”

Time’s smile turned to a grin.

“I’d say as long as you’re willing to give up your tastebuds then I’d be willing to enable you.”

Legend screeched again.

#time is an absolute agent of chaos and I stand by this #linkeduniverse #linked universe #linked universe fanfic #lu time #lu wind #all the links #writing from the floor #sorry this took like a bajillion years to write #I don’t know why I couldn’t finish it I just couldn’t for some reason #but it’s done now!#...and boy is it ridiculous

241 notes · View notes

iguessitsjustme · 1 year

Text

To My Star - Music

It has been 6 months since @gillianthecat requested a music analysis of To My Star. I said I’d do it in a few weeks and I started it then shit life happened but I wanted to actually do the analysis so here it is…a million years later. I will say this might be a bit disjointed because some of my notes are from 6 months ago and the rest are from the past week so apologies in advance for that. I did want to make this a longer post since it’s been so long since it was requested so I might have gotten a bit carried away.

As always this is my disclaimer that I’m just an idiot with a somewhat decent ear and I enjoy soundtracks. I am wrong sometimes so take everything I say with a grain of salt.

Before I get into specifics, my general thoughts are that it’s a fine soundtrack. It’s not my favorite, but it does work very well for the show. It does a good job of keeping the tone that the show is setting. Most of the time the soundtrack helps set the tone of the show, but for To My Star it felt like the actors really set the tone for the show and the music followed. It wasn’t as cohesive as I really like, but it worked well enough that it didn’t stand out as not working. But with that said, I did really enjoy it. Overall it felt like they sampled youtube’s royalty free music catalog except for certain instances, but what they did choose to do actually worked really well but more on that later.

One of the main thingsI noticed when doing my rewatch for this, is that To My Star utilizes silence quite a bit. While there are some instances of music when Han Ji Woo and Kang Seo Joon weren’t around, for the most part, the music only followed their story. Other characters were mostly given silence when they were the focus, which was an interesting choice. It worked for TMS because it wasn’t the only time there was silence. There was always silence during Han Ji Woo and Kang Seo Joon’s important moments. The music waited until something was said before coming in and joining the scene. So it wasn’t as jarring as it would have been to have silence for the other characters. The silence being used for Han Ji Woo and Kang Seo Joon’s important moments made it so when it was silent for the other characters, the audience paid attention because their part in the story is also important. TMS is ultimately about Han Ji Woo and Kang Seo Joon but it’s not just their story as they are impacted by the other characters around them.

But as it is Han Ji Woo and Kang Seo Joon’s story, what were some of their big moments that were impacted by silence? There are a few but I’m only going to talk about what I think is the most important one. At the beginning, Kang Seo Joon hears a crash and has a panic attack as a result (been there my dude, it sucks). There is silence before the crash that leads into the panic attack and there’s silence at the start of the panic attack as well. Then we begin hearing a repetitive, dissonant note during the attack, but it’s backed by calming music that grows louder as Han Ji Woo cares for Kang Seo Joon. This worked almost a little too well for me. I don’t like being reminded of my own panic attacks like that, ya know? But it does a good job of using music to convey what Kang Seo Joon is feeling. We see the panic attack and we can hear it. It’s jarring.

The biggest surprise to me about the soundtrack was realizing that Kang Seo Joon and Han Ji Woo have different genres. Some shows do this and do it really well. A more recent example that I really loved was Never Let Me Go. Both boys had their own distinct genre that had to reconcile with each other when those two were together. That’s probably the one of the easiest shows to watch and pick up on the distinct music for each character. It’s far, far more subtle in TMS, but it’s there.

During the show, Han Ji Woo is a jazzy boy. It’s a smooth jazz, which fits Han Ji Woo’s character very well. He’s soft and subtle and his life should be formulaic and set in routine, but nothing has gone as expected. His routine has been thrown off. He still has his calm, almost stoic exterior, but inside he’s facing turmoil. Kang Seo Joon has come into his life and brought something new and unexpected. He’s facing feelings he wasn’t aware he could still feel and he’s willing to do things he didn’t realize he’s willing to do. Once his turmoil is settled though, he reverts back to what I believe his true genre is: classical. Han Ji Woo is a piano concerto. He’s soft and beautiful and strong. He can get loud and stand up for himself when needed and he can become muted when he’s feeling a little lost. Han Ji Woo settles into his new routine with Kang Seo Joon and he’s no longer a jazzy boy. He’s back to himself as a classical boy. The inner turmoil and struggle Han Ji Woo has felt is made so abundantly clear in this line:

At this moment in the show, Han Ji Woo’s jazz was slowly being taken over by Kang Seo Joon’s music. He was already scared because his genre was off but now even not-his-genre is being overtaken by Kang Seo Joon.

Kang Seo Joon has been consistently coming into Han Ji Woo’s life and overtaking his music. Kang Seo Joon is pop music. He is fun and upbeat. He is the music that so many people in the world listen to. I mean, it’s called pop music for a reason! At first it makes sense that Kang Seo Joon should have the more formulaic music. He seems shallow on the surface, but as always, that’s not the case as he has hidden depth and struggles. A lot of the pop songs that play are in English which was surprising, but they could be a hint at Kang Seo Joon being more than he seems. He’s not just the cookie-cutter celebrity that everyone, including Han Ji Woo, sees him as. He has hopes and fears and he has experienced his fair share of pain. And when he meets and starts falling for Han Ji Woo? Their music starts to blend.

When Han Ji Woo reaches for Kang Seo Joon’s face, about to take an eyelash off, but stops and walks away, leaving them both feeling like something has shifted in that moment, their music combines. It’s both poppy and jazzy. This is the moment that they both start to become aware that there are feelings floating around.

By the end of the show, Han Ji Woo has embraced his jazziness because he realizes that his life isn’t going to go to routine now that he’s with Kang Seo Joon. When he’s alone, classical music follows him. But when he’s with Kang Seo Joon, he’s back to jazz. And in the very last scene, when those two are in bed and begin making out, the music is pop music but with a little jazz element thrown in. They’ve found their harmony and their balance as their two genres are able to meet to become one.

Here are some other things I noticed but they didn’t make it into the post itself:

-When Han Ji Woo is running to Kang Seo Joon at the end, it’s a pop song playing

-The music in the restaurant is smooth jazz

#to my star #to my star the series #to my star bl #sorry it took so long i was going through it #and music analysis posts always take me much longer cause i want to really think about them more than other posts i make #anyway i hope you enjoyed this five million bajillion years later #also i want it known that if you ever request something from me i will do it even if it means waiting a little bit #also not gonna mention that it’s possible that because han ji woo is only a jazzy boy with kang seo joon #that could have led to him not feeling like himself #and been one of the reasons he had to leave in tms 2 #watching tms just made me want to watch tms 2 again #i actually really loved the second season

33 notes · View notes

down-thedrain · 2 years

Note

mandela v2. elaborate 👁👁

so funny story this ask has been sitting in my drafts for like 2 months cuz i honestly didn't know how to even begin to describe what mandela v2 is. it's an enigma even i don't know what it is it's just a dark spot in my brain that i occasionally stick my head into and come out covered in ashes and piranhas but. i'll try ig !!

it's kinda just me taking the characters and very general rules of this universe and making like. a completely new story put of them . a lot of the events are similar but shuffled around and there's a ton of new shit and it is FULL of headcanons and really self indulgent shit lol. it's not based on anything and there's no central premise it's just. another version of tmc. hence v2

i can't list every change in there because even i don't know the full extent of the changes i made but uh

- cesar has a special interest in the occult because autistic cesar is real to ME okay. he writes a bunch of shit about alternates and they figure out how to channel spirits because they're just like that. he kinda becomes a hermit the older they get and they have a very normal kinship with alternates that definitely isn't anythign to worry about :)

- cesar lives his encounter with alt!cesar but mark doesn't so mark's ghost (after escaping limbo and reliving his trauma because mark has to be absolutely miserable all the time it's required by law) follows him around and cesar occasionally channels him. but it works like in ace attorney so he physically changes to look like mark n shit it's funky

- bps isn't a high school club turned society but rather a giant underground operation with a head council and divisions in mandela + bythorne + werksha + etc. with the main goal of fighting both alternates and the police wherever they can. they're the ones that discover that dragonbreath bullets kill alternates and they have an entire research division it's cool i love v2 bps

- jonah joins bps before adam does in this au and ze's kinda like. the vice president of bps despite technically being too young when they first join. they mean everything to me in this au you have no idea

- mandelatech is a much larger corporation too. bps/mcpd/mandelatech are like. 3 warring factions kinda (which. yes. means that dave and eve end up fighting w bps a lot. it's. eugh)

- thatcher stays as lieutenant a lot longer than he does in canon and ae's just. so pissed at everything god bless. ☕ wants everything to be okay but he buries those hopes in pure rage <3 ☕'s canonically won fights against alts with aer bare hands so people know not to fuck with him. he'd call canon thatcher wet and pathetic LOL

- generally v2's on a much larger scale and kinda considers the world of tmc as a whole, rather than just focusing on specific characters. idk i like worldbuilding it's fun so sue me. there are a lot of ocs that fill the space suffice to say and i am totally willing to just throw whatever i want in there. this au is my witch's cauldron

- mervin has some shit to do maybe good for him

i love this au but it's like. definitely my least comprehensible (except for maybe tmcblr is that even counts) i just do whatever the fuck i want and no one can stop me. don't ask me questions about it i don't have to explain myself

#posts in a drainage system #mandela v2 #sorry i took 8 bajillion years to answer this sam ilysm LMFAOOOOOOO #my brain works in mysterious ways but it's fine cuz it makes cool shit occasionally

10 notes · View notes

eurydicees · 1 year

Note

im the tamakyo anon, hopefully you received my message cuz tumblr glitched out </3

i don't think i got anything :((((((

#ask #sorry this took a bajillion years to see only for me to tell you that i didn't get ur other message :((((

2 notes · View notes

kashimos-hajime · 1 year

Note

I haven't been able to read any ff for a few months now, but sorry i love you is the only exception. thank you for writing it, i really really love it and i'm emotionally attached to it

(i reblog from my other blog btw, please don't think i am a silent reader)

thank you sm!! i'm very happy that sorry i love you is something that's easy for you to read! i know it's sometimes so hard to read ff but if it's short and digestible it's so much more comforting. and i'm very grateful that you're not a silent reader! it means the world to me when people reblog and comment <3

#h answers #sugies #sorry it took me 2 bajillion years #to reply to this ask im just currently sick rn HAHA #cannot catch a break irl but tumblr is a nice place to be in #ask: sorry i love you

4 notes · View notes

deadn30n · 4 months

Note

❛ all of this time, i wasn't looking for someone who could defeat me. i was looking for someone who could see what i see, feel what i feel. ❜ ( for anyone you have inspiration for <33 )

HER WORDS SCRATCH THE SURFACE OF SOMETHING ARCHAIC WITHIN HIM. each syllable skipping ripples across the placid surface of his consciousness. thoughts unfurl like flowerpetals greeting the first light of a new dawn and he wonders; was there ever a time that he too craved what she spoke of? his past exists in jagged, spider web cracks on an ancient && dust covered mirror. the grime laid on so thick it's nigh impossible to peer beyond and unveil memories long lost to a life that didn't belong to him anymore. he existed only as a thing now; a concept, a bitter creature caught between the catacombs of life and death. but he wasn't always such, was he?

he was alive once too, just as she is now. yet the jaded, prismatic shards of his former life were scattered like beads from a broken necklace at his feet. try as he might to gather them together again, they would never truly be whole. if he did once crave those things, he could not remember it anymore. nevertheless, her speech has drawn him in; string rewound clumsily on a spool. her articulation a flutter of butterfly wings on the gentle wind. it guides his tongue to formulate the thought that's bubbled up beyond the surface of his consciousness; ❝ so did you ever find it? what you were looking for? or are you still searching for the person who can fulfill that wish? ❞

#‹ answered ask. ›#vulpesse #this took a bajillion years to answer i'm sorry LMFAO #SDFKJGHD #i wanted to come up with something good hehe

1 note · View note

illithidhost · 8 months

Text

@weaveshadows ( planned starter - crescentia )

The way Mania had gasped once she had stepped beyond the forest brush was enough to insight a bit of panic and fear among the party. Perhaps the cultists had been waiting in the shrubbery to ambush them and the Tiefling just happened to be their first victim while the party was scouting the area. Either way, their small gathering of misfits immediately moved, pushing past the weaving of nature.

With weapons partially drawn, they emerged into a clearing, finding the fuchsia Tiefling perfectly fine and not riddled with any kind of wound. Rather, she seemed mesmerized; her infernal and hag kissed eyes practically sparkling as they took in the area they had stumbled across.

"Finally. Finally!" Mania declared triumphantly before her hands shot forward, as if showing off what was in front of her. A semi large pool of water with steaming wisping across its surface. Surrounding it, large rocks and tall trees, hiding it from the world. It was serene, unlike everything they had been through the past few days. "Something good!"

#weaveshadows #(sorry that this took 5 million bajillion years)#(if u have any issues with it let me know and ill make some edits uwu)

1 note · View note

lathal · 1 year

Note

“ we need to leave. ”

Emotionally Intense Prompts

Iveani was almost relieved that he had the same idea she did. The forest they were walking through had suddenly gotten much denser, and while she was no mage, she could tell that the veil was very thin here. Aside from that, nothing seemed particularly out of the ordinary, but the sinking pit of dread in her stomach told her that there was more than what met the eye. At the same time, she also didn't want to seem like a coward.

"Yeah. Let's turn around and head back. I don't think there are any rifts that way anyway," she agreed.

#v;; fields of pain and sighs #fenrs #sorry this took a bajillion years #i haven't had much muse lately

0 notes

storiedhistories · 1 year

Text

fenixburned asked: never look back; you may only find what you left or let you go. (Why did that give me big solangelo in the underworld vibes??)

Will had known full well that going with Nico to Tartarus was going to be dangerous, but he hadn't hesitated. He had already been in more wars than most mortals saw in their lifetimes, had faced down other demigods, gods, and immortal emperors; there was no way he would back down from going with Nico, not after everything.

He'd heard the story of Orpheus, of course: a man who had been so skilled a musician he made the very gods themselves weep, a man who had had doubt driven into his heart, who had turned around to see if his wife was following him, and had thereby damned her to death when he could have had her back.

"I'm not gonna look back," he said, his voice firm even as he squeezed Nico's hand. "I'm gonna be by your side every step of the way."

If they got separated…., then Will would do whatever it took to find him, no matter the cost. But that wasn't going to happen, not if he had anything to say about it.

#fenixburned #✦ Will Solace || Answered ✦ Time for a Q&A session #✦ Will Solace || IC ✦ It takes both rain and sunshine to make a rainbow #[I need a 'stuff in Tartarus' verse tag]#[I HAVE MANY FEAR ABOUT THE UPCOMING BOOK]#[I'm sorry this took me five bajillion years!!]

0 notes

laplacemail · 2 years

Note

the inspector is going to fold his hands from his perch and just make the most curious little trilling noise to adonia. what a curious time to meet another of the wilds. " you've wandered far from your wood, lord. "

"Indeed I have. But what is life without the intrepid explorer who ventures beyond the branches they belong to?"

Adonia offers the inspector a sincere, warm smile. Respectful, but friendly nonetheless. A place not too dissimilar from one he knows - identical branches that come to form two different flowers. There is a third, but that one does not seem relevant now. Even though Adonia had also leapt through familiar petals, a sketch abandoned by their makers.

With a small flourish, he offers a bow.

"My apologies if I have disturbed you. My curious nature has gotten the best out of me several times. To varying results, I should clarify. If my presence bothers you so, I shall mimic the gentle autumn breeze and scatter. If not, then what say you to the idea of new-old company?"

#SORRY I TOOK A LITERAL BAJILLION YEARS TO REPLY TO THIS 😭#FEEL FREE TO TURN IT INTO A THREAD IF YOU'D LIKE #tomepact #the last rose of summer ; adonia

0 notes

kentopedia · 10 months

Note

hi rylie!! thank you sm for the recs! and since you said your inbox is open …

could i maybe request a fic where nanami proposes to you? like a spur of the moment thing where it’s not really the “right time” but he just springs out the question bc he wants you forever 🥹😮‍💨

thank you a bajillion! <3

my everything

FEATURING: nanami kento x f!reader — wc: 3.1k

SUMMARY: after nanami remembers how short life can be, he realizes he wants to spend the rest of his with you.

CONTENTS: takes place during jjk 0, slight angst per usual, marriage proposals, sorcerer!reader, nanami's pov, happy ending

note: thank you for this sweet request!! i kind of took it and ran w it, but this was so much fun to write :) i hope you enjoy lovely!! <;33

Kento couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so afraid.

The gnawing feeling of dread was as heavy as the ring in his pocket, the one that he now regretted hanging onto for so long. Shinjuku streets were drenched in the blood of so many curses, humans, and sorcerers and it sickened him, reminded him that life could be cut short at any moment. There was a reason that he’d quit Jujutsu so many years ago, and he started to wonder if he’d made the right decision in coming back.

Kento sorted through the bodies, scanned the mangled corpses for any sign of your familiar face. He never spotted you, but he wasn’t certain if it was a relief that you were nowhere to be found.

Satoru stood at the edge of the street, his forehead lined with sweat, the pale bandages falling away from his icy eyes. Briefly, he dropped the façade that always lingered, and it was obvious how tired he was. How much everything had beaten him down in the last decade and refused to let up.

In that moment, Kento felt sorry for him. Then, Satoru resumed his usual air of arrogance, straightened his back, and the natural balance fell between them once more.

In just a few strides, Kento was upon him, his hair unruly, shirt wrinkled as the tie remained still crumpled around his hand. His muscles ached and he longed for a shower—though any of those trivial thoughts were outweighed by his incessant need to find you.

“Where is she?” The words hung in the air before Kento realized they’d left his lips at all.

Satoru hesitated, almost unwilling to hand over his confession so easily. “I sent her back to the school.”

Kento clenched his fists, but Satoru was defending himself before any irrational actions could be taken.

“She insisted, Nanami.”

Still, he couldn’t help but wish that Satoru had ignored your pleas, even if Kento was unsurprised that you’d volunteered to stand by the students’ side. You weren’t the type of person to let a few first and second years go up against a special grade on their own, no matter how strong they were.

Satoru was squeezing Kento’s shoulder before he had even noticed the movement. Something in his expression had darkened, and though Kento normally would’ve shoved him off, put some distance between the two of them, he wasn’t sure he could remember a time when Satoru Gojo looked so somber. “I wouldn’t have sent them there if I wasn’t certain they’d be alright. I’m not as cruel as you might think.”

Kento knew that he had never behaved warmly towards his ex-classmate, but his opinion of the man was not as low as Satoru believed. For better or worse, Satoru loved his students, and though he pushed them, Kento knew he would never put them into an undefeatable danger.

He sighed, dropping his chin to his chest as Satoru’s hand fell away from his shoulder. “Just take me to her, Gojo.”

Satoru nodded, his lips curling down into a frown before he was teleporting them both back to the high school. There, the sight was even more dismal than Kento had expected. Many of the buildings had been destroyed and there were clear residuals from many sorcerers and curses. It was chaos, a grim sight to behold, and they weren’t even past the gate.

The anxiety twisted up in his chest, and inwardly, he prayed, hopeful that you were as fine as Satoru believed. That Geto, in every inch of his darkened heart, would hesitate when it came to killing an old friend.

“Hey,” Satoru said, tying up the blindfold once more, tightening it across his snowy hair. “She’s fine. This, I’m certain of.”

Kento’s lips were too dry to even offer a thank you, even though Satoru probably deserved it, for all the sacrifices he made, all the time. Instead, he nodded, and turned away from the tall man, haunted by a memory of him once as young as the students that had been left behind to protect humanity.

The leaves and gravel crunched under Kento’s feet as he ran up to the school, taking in the sheer destruction that had befallen the place he’d once called home. It made him ache with a longing for a simpler time, even though he could never go back, and the boy he’d been was long gone.

It was a brisk night—the kind of night that you normally would’ve spent bundled up inside, a bowl of hot soup between you, a movie running while you rested your head against Kento’s shoulder, dozing off before the credits rolled.

That’s how his night should’ve gone. Instead, he was searching every crushed piece of building, every pile of rubble in case your body had been caught between it.

Kento knew that the life of a sorcerer was a miserable one, that it was easy to lose the people you cared about, but he wasn’t certain he’d be able to go on for much longer if he lost you.

The ring was even heavier in his pocket, weighing him down, making it near impossible to move. If you hadn’t survived, Kento would never forgive himself for waiting so long to propose.

He called your name, ripping off his glasses in any attempt to see you better, wondering where you could’ve disappeared to, hoping that you hadn’t died alone.

The grounds, it seemed, had been hollowed out completely, and for the first time, Kento wondered if Gojo was wrong about his old friend.

Panic clawed up his chest, scratching at his throat, sending him into an illogical spiral before a small, shaky voice from behind him brought him back to reality, a light that parted through the black night, so sweet and heavenly to his ears.

“Kento?”

He turned, blinked as you swayed on your feet, making your way slowly down the steps of the main building. You walked awkwardly on your ankle, though you pushed on, heading towards him despite the pain.

For a moment, he watched, and then he was upon you without even acknowledging his movements, two long strides that brought him back to his salvation.

Kento pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your hair, breathing in the undeniable truth that you were still alive, even as you winced from his stronghold, your arms limp at your sides.

“Fuck,” Kento said, kissing you on the top of the head, your hairline, forehead. His eyes were glossy with tears that had been held back by his remaining shreds of hope. “You scared me there for a second, sweetheart.”

Your hands were on his chest, tracing his bicep before you curled your fingers around his jaw, bringing his gaze to your own. The touch was light, searching for any wounds that hid under his stained button-up. “I’m okay,” you said, softly, even though your face was bruised, your ankle twisted, and you were bleeding from more places than one. “Are you?”

Kento nearly laughed, wondering how you could even think to ask that question when he was untouched compared to you. Though, the amusement died immediately when you looked at him with so much concern that he melted, and he squeezed your hand in reassurance. “I’m okay.”

You nodded, expression serious as you attempted to ingrain the words into your mind, convince yourself that everything would be alright, even though things hadn’t been that way in nearly a decade. You kept your hands on him, as if waiting for some wounds to appear, for him to start bleeding into your palm, even though his injuries went no further than some sore muscles.

“And everyone else?”

Kento pulled you into his chest, running a hand up and down your back, wishing that he could heal you as easily as Shoko could, that a gentle touch could fix everything that had ever soiled your life. “Everyone’s fine,” he said, and as far as he knew, that was true. “A little beat up, but they’re alive.”

You exhaled, nodding into his chest as you rested your weight on him.

Kento would gladly bear it, would carry you all the way home if need be.

Briefly, you were silent, before you squeezed your eyes shut painfully and grimaced. “I got the students to Shoko, but they were all so hurt, so badly,” you swallowed, digging your fingers into his shirt, and Kento suddenly hated that Satoru hadn’t sent him with you, even if he was needed in the city. “Geto—”

You stopped yourself, and said nothing more, heartbroken by a boy you had too many fond memories of to ever see in a malicious light. It was difficult for everyone who’d ever known him back then, even if he hadn’t been that way in a decade.

Kento swallowed and you pushed away your tears, buried whatever conversation had transpired earlier between you and the dark-haired sorcerer.

Though, you’d resolved to be everything that Geto was not. That, at least, had been one positive outcome of his betrayal. “It’s not your fault, love.”

“I should’ve been more prepared to kill him, Kento. I’m not as strong as him, but I should’ve been able to hold him off until Gojo—” You choked back a cry before standing straight, shaking your head. “I tried too hard to reason with him. I left it to a student, and—”

“Hey,” Kento held your cheeks tight in his palms, forcing you to gain a better perspective of the situation. You looked up at him with soft, lost eyes, and Kento was filled with a swell of adoration for you, for the strength that came with the vastness of your heart.

Despite all you’d suffered, you’d managed a smile, been the light in Kento’s life, even when he’d wanted to do nothing but wallow in his own misery. If not for you, he wasn’t sure he ever would’ve come back to being a sorcerer at all. If not for you, Kento would’ve been lost, without an ounce of meaning in his life.

You were so foolish for thinking you hadn’t done enough, when you’d done more for him than he could put into words. Kento’s love for you was enormous, and in that moment, he would’ve let the rest of the world collapse in on itself if it meant you’d be safe and happy.

“Any of us would’ve done the same. Do you really believe that Gojo would’ve so easily killed Geto without speaking to him first? Would I have?”

The look didn’t dissipate from your irises, but you didn’t disagree with him, and that was enough. Kento kissed you, deeply, putting every ounce of affection into that single touch. Everyone had made it out of the night alive, and you’d been there for the students when it mattered the most. That was more than he could say, at least.

“I don’t want to lose anyone else, Kento,” you said, blinking at him once more with those sad eyes, ones that he never wanted to see on your normally bright expression. “I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t tear me apart.”

“You won’t lose me,” he promised, even though he knew that there was no way he could keep it, an oath that was almost destined to be broken. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You and I both know that you can’t be sure of that,” you said, backing out of his embrace to wrap a protective arm around yourself. The smile that graced your lips was sad, defeated. “Our world is not merciful enough.”

Kento knew that better than anyone, and he’d been reminded of it that evening. Reminded of the loss that befell those who wanted to fight for a better world, and even those who didn’t. Death didn’t give any warning, didn’t choose based off anything more than a random draw. “Then I’ll promise to love you until the day I die. That, at least, is a vow I won’t ever break.”

The ring in his pocket was practically vibrating now, reminding him how little the non-necessities of life mattered to him. All this time, he been waiting for the perfect moment, to plan everything down to the very last detail.

It seemed meaningless now.

You squeezed his hand, your face brightening despite your sorrow, lips tugging up sideways. “I can promise the same.” Kento’s heart swelled, and you kissed his cheek before dragging him a few steps forward so the two of you were walking in time together. “We should go check on the students. I want Shoko to check my ankle too. I’ve suffered worse, but it’s starting to swell pretty badly.”

Kento nodded, though his mind was too busy whirling with fears of a wedding that might never happen, that you might never know he was going to propose if he didn’t do it soon. You could be snatched away from him at any moment, or perhaps, he could leave this world with the ring still in his pocket, and you’d only know once you found it on his corpse.

Kento wouldn’t forgive himself, even in death, if he didn’t do what he’d been wanting to do for months.

With one arm around your shoulder, he reached the other into his pocket, twirling the box. He wasn’t even sure why he carried it with him that night when he could’ve so easily lost it in the middle of battle.

Yet, there it was, lingering, the constant weight in his pocket that rested against his hip. He swallowed, and you looked up at him, your lips falling back once more into a frown.

“Hey,” you said, slowing your pace, concern evident in your expression. “Is something wrong? Did something happen in Shinjuku, Kento? I didn’t mean to just brush off—”

Kento shook his head, shushing you quickly. It didn’t take him long to make up his mind, and he wrapped the tiny box up in his hand. “Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart.” He kissed the top of your head again before holding the box out, presenting it to you calmly, without any spike in his normal tone. “I just was thinking about how I was going to ask you to marry me.”

You stopped completely, your pupils blown wide as you took the box from him with shaky hands, blinking back down at it before meeting his tender brown eyes. “Kento?” you said again, calmly, as if waiting for him to explain.

A beat of silence passed between you. Kento, suddenly, felt nervous around you for the first time in a long while.

“Truthfully, I was going to prepare a long-winded speech and buy you some flowers and take you out for dinner. But,” he cleared his throat, regaining his composure as he flipped the lid of the velvety box, revealing the sparkling ring he’d spend hours searching for. “I love you too much to waste any more time. Somehow, until tonight, I’d forgotten how short life can be. I just want to spend every moment I can as your husband.”

Your eyes became glossy as you stared down at the beautiful gem, lifting the ring out of the box to slide onto your finger. As expected, it fit you perfectly, shimmering in the pale light, the perfect complement to your skin. Kento gently took your hand, kissing the knuckle right below the jewelry.

“I’ll propose again to you properly,” he said, laughing quietly, though if it was because of your silence or the joy lodged within him, he couldn’t be certain. “Without all the blood and the—"

“Kento.” Your lips were on his before he could finish his sentence, harsh and passionate despite your injuries. Fingers curled around his chin, holding him into place, making him forget all the horrors that had occurred that evening. “Don’t be silly. I don’t need a grandiose display to know I want to be with you forever. I love you too much.”

Kento’s chest warmed, that bundle of affection within him bursting, making its way through every ounce of his being. There, you seemed to glow brighter, every day making you more beautiful than before, and he wondered how it could be possible that he could feel so much for one person.

He relaxed, unknowingly tense, and kissed you again on the forehead, his arms around your shoulder once more. “I should’ve done it sooner.”

You smiled and caressed the harsh bones of his cheeks, shaking your head. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.” You laughed, pulling him down by the tie, pressing a kiss between his brows to ease the wrinkle there. “Besides, now you’ve turned this awful night into something special. I don’t have to remember this day with a bitter taste in my mouth.”

Kento returned your smile, but it was still weak, even with all of the adoration he felt for you.

Though, when you beamed at the ring, your eyes soft, all of the previous despair gone, he knew that everything would be alright. Perhaps his timing had been less than ideal, but he would do it over and over again if only to ease away the misery from your face.

“So, then you will marry me?” he said again, wanting to hear the words from your lips, even though there was no doubt in his mind.

You rolled your eyes playfully, noticing his teasing smile and indulged him. “Yes, Kento.” You kissed his cheek, letting out a sharp exhale. “I’ll marry you. I would’ve always said yes, even back when we were silly, lovesick teenagers.” You sighed theatrically, adjusting his tie. “Who knows why. You had such a ridiculous haircut back then.”

Kento’s cheeks grew warm, splitting with the force of his smile, one that only seemed to appear with you at his side. Despite all of the horrible things that had happened in all of your lives, he was grateful that there were good moments too.

“Well, I still managed to win over the prettiest girl in the world, didn’t I?” he said, ghosting the words as he laced his fingers with your own, squeezing tight. “Now I get to call her my fiancée.”

You mumbled something less than kind under your breath, but Kento could feel the warmth on your cheeks, the flush the began from your neck.

He laughed, continuing his path back to the infirmary, where the students were likely waiting for you to return safe and sound. “Come on, I’m taking you to see Shoko. I wouldn’t want my future wife’s injuries to get any worse, would I?”

And though the both of you knew your injuries were minimal, your eyes brightened as the skin around them wrinkled, and Kento knew that whatever happened after this, he would live and die a happy man.

1K notes · View notes

rad-batson · 1 year

Text

Damian Wayne Headcanons :) in which I give him actual character growth, suck it dc writers

this is extremely long, I am not sorry

He has literally no footsteps, you cannot hear him walk, even when he stomps around in one of those moods, it’s just barely a little *pat pat pat*

He doodles on everything. With everything. Some Gothamites have found intricate floral designs etched into the roof or random brick walls (most likely with a knife) after seeing Robin patrol.

He has like 20 weighted blankets, all different weights and sizes depending on his mood.

His favorite item in his room is a silver Nintendo DS. (He likes to use the little chat rooms, even if no one else is on the other end. He doodles and writes little messages. It’s like his diary.)

He loves all animals, and that includes the creepy ones. Especially the creepy ones.

Once, Tim started screaming bloody murder over a massive bug with a bajillion legs in his room. Damian now houses it in an enclosure in his bedroom. Her name is Mildred, Millie for short.

When he was in the LoA, he was forbidden from stimming in front of others. It took two years for anyone in the batfamily to ever witness him stimming.

His most common stimming behaviors are shaking out his hands, scratching his palms, and rubbing his hands across different surfaces. When he’s really stressed, he’ll snap his fingers.

He absolutely hates cameras. They’re loud and make him uncomfortable. One reporter almost got scratched when they got too close to him with the flash on. He only barely tolerates the security cameras in the manor. Barely.

He can and will be roped into any dare imaginable. Bruce repeatedly forbids him from taking dares from his siblings for months at a time.

He has a compartment in his utility belt dedicated to treats for any animal he sees on patrol.

When he’s tired, he’ll speak a mixture of Arabic, Mandarin, and English. Only Bruce can make sense of it, and occasionally Jason.

Bruce absolutely refuses to yell at Damian. Even if some of his other kids argue that he’s being too nice, he’ll only use his Batman voice and his Soft But Disappointed Dad Voice, but he will Never yell.

(He doesn’t tell them it’s because of what happened the first and only time he yelled at Damian. Bruce moved his hand a bit, and Damian flinched wildly. Bruce cried for hours over the implications of that.)

Damian only feels comfortable sitting if he can clearly see the main entrance. If not, he’ll sit with his back against a wall or he’ll stand.

He dutifully takes the responsibility of feeding and grooming every Wayne animal. They receive the most nutritious and filling meals on the market (all while receiving lots of head pats.)

He has very strong eyebrows just like his father. They tend to pull the same exasperated expressions too, highlighting their resemblance.

Talia taught Damian at a very young age how to write perfectly with both hands. He no longer remembers if he is naturally left or right-handed.

The one insult he cannot handle is “spoiled brat.” A few months after he arrived, someone in the family called him that as a joke, and he completely shut down emotionally. No anger, no sadness, no resentment. Literally just nothing. For days. No one knows why, but they will never let it happen again.

You know he’s Up to Something TM if he swings his legs back and forth while he sits.

He is obsessed with those cheap TV documentaries about famous plane crashes and shipwrecks. After finishing one, he’ll find the nearest family member and tell them all about it: how it happened, what human error caused it, and his fool-proof plan for if it ever happens again and he is nearby. Usually, it’s Alfred.

For the first few years at the manor, Damian’s favorite spot is the family graveyard. Everyone calls him dramatic. He just likes how it’s so quiet. (And he’s dramatic.)

When Jason waxes poetics about dying over dinner, Damian just groans and says, “So have I. You’re not special.” That’s how the family learns he was repeatedly revived in the Lazarus Pit due to the fatal nature of his training and abuse.

His first ever crush was on the cute male tech at Alfred the Cat’s vet. Damian was 12. Jason, who accompanied him, proceeded to give him both The Talk (“It’s okay to like boys”) and The Talk (“Your body is ✨changing✨”) on the drive home.

He will not text back unless it is absolutely necessary. He will leave people on read. He does not hate you. (…Probably.)

Titus is a registered therapy dog, trained in helping Damian through panic attacks and sensory overload. If you ever see Damian asleep on the floor, eyes cried out with Titus resting on top of him, you know why.

When he was 13, he tried to fake his own death after he failed a test at school and “dishonored the family name.” Bruce and Dick had to sit him down and explain that grades aren’t everything, and they still love him unconditionally.

He talks to animals like they’re human. He has a habit of venting his frustrations to Batcow in particular. And his fish while he feeds them.

His love language to others is a mixture of gifts and quality time, usually without words.

One day, Damian was snooping around the house and found that one of the electrical closets leads to a tiny space—barely two feet wide—in between the sheetrock and the foundation wall with nothing but a single hanging lightbulb. It took years before anyone else found it, but by then, Damian had painted an 8x10 ft mural on the wall and created a small bed of blankets and pillows for when he needs a quiet place to escape unwanted stimuli.

When he sleeps, his cheeks puff out like a little chipmunk. It’s adorable.

During the Winter Olympics one year, Damian falls in love with figure skating and decides he wants to try it out, but he never asks to take up lessons in fear that he will be horrible at it.

Duke figures this out and now takes him ice skating just enough to avoid suspicion. It’s become their bonding activity.

Once, Jason and Tim made him try a Sour Patch Kids-flavored energy drink. He immediately spit it out and said, “What the fuck?! That’s even worse than drinking from the Lazarus Pit.” And that’s how the family learns that Ra’s made Damian drink from the Lazarus Pit a few times.

One day, Steph told Damian about the wonders of concealed self defense products. Now, about 80% of the mundane items Damian owns is secretly a knife. He will purchase any item that is secretly a knife. Including several fake lipstick tubes.

He has rigorous self-control when it comes to sleep. Sure, his schedule is a bit fucked up for someone his age, but he is in bed and asleep exactly when he tells himself. (His siblings could never.)

His entire wardrobe is soft items he “found” stole from the laundry room. If it’s comfortable, it’s his now. (No one complains. In fact, having Damian steal your clothes is considered a privilege.)

He hates whenever Alfred tries to recreate dishes from his childhood. It’s just not the same. Alfred understands.

When he’s really stressed—like the “I am one stubbed toe away from a complete meltdown” stressed—he will finger paint. He likes the feeling of it on his skin.

Due to his time in the LoA, Damian has a habit of never telling anyone if he’s injured. Instead, he’ll pretend nothing’s wrong until he passes out or literally can’t move right and someone calls him out. He’s working on it, though.

There’s a massive system of fish tanks in his room complete with handmade decor and multiple venomous species. No one even realizes until Alfred mentions it during dinner.

He has hyper fixated at least once on every single artistic medium you can imagine. His top three are oil paintings, mosaics, and pottery, but he mostly sticks to drawing in his free time.

He has taste tested all of his pets’ treats at one point for “research purposes.”

Giving friends their own nickname is one of the most intimate things Damian does to express his relationship with someone.

Once, he was having an argument with a sibling, and they said, “Oh yeah? Well at least Bruce wanted me!” Damian didn’t leave his room for exactly six days. He even stapled blackout curtains to his windows and the vents. Bruce chewed the shit out of whoever said it and spent hours every day talking to Damian through the door to convince him that, yes, Bruce wants him and couldn’t ever think of a family without him. Damian didn’t come out, however, until he heard Bruce crying while begging him to eat. Damian slept in Bruce’s bed that night and the following week.

When he turns 15, he gets really obsessed with Måneskin.

He’s exactly the kind of Art Hoe that is completely loyal to his favorite brand of art supplies and wouldn’t touch other brands with a 10ft pole.

He has weirdly thin fingers. Like creepily thin, especially as he grows older. Someone commented on them once, and Damian proceeded to wear gloves nonstop for a week.

There are exactly four (4) people who are allowed to touch him without permission first. Dick, Jon, Bruce, and Talia in that order.

His eyes are actually naturally blue. The reason they are green is because of the Lazarus Pit. It’s always the Lazarus Pit. (They barely glow in the dark too, but you need to really pay attention to notice.)

He can wiggle his ears. The only people to ever witness it are Cass and Duke. They’ve been sworn to secrecy.

Whenever one of his many pets sleeps in his bed, he tries to stay as still as possible without touching them so they don’t get annoyed and leave, but they always worm their way into his arms.

As he grows, his family is surprised to learn that he isn’t building the same muscle as his dad. Instead, he’s lean like his mother due to an extremely fast metabolism. He eats a lot to maintain proper health. (His cheeks are still puffy when he sleeps, though. And when he smiles.)

Dick is his emergency contact for school, partially because Dick isn’t as busy, partially due to that time Bruce “died,” but mostly because Damian is terrified of disappointing Bruce if he ever gets in trouble. Thankfully, Dick is convincing Damian otherwise.

His favorite ever birthday gift comes from Tim. It’s a pottery studio he spent months building on their property in secret with several pottery wheels and a kiln.

His hands have always had a sort of surgical accuracy to them due to his stealth training, but it never came to the forefront of everyone’s mind until one particular mission when Tim got shot, and they needed to get the bullet out as quickly as possible. Despite being bigger than most of his family members by now, and Tim refusing to stay still the whole time, Damian was the only one capable of taking the bullet out. While riding in the Batmobile. Going 80 mph. Completely painlessly. Damian is immediately given the de facto role of Combat Medic.

Jon likes to send Good morning texts to Damian. At first, he didn’t know about the “only responds if it’s an emergency” thing, though, so he decided to stop after a few weeks of Damian never replying. Within an hour of not getting the usual text, Damian was at Jon’s house in full Robin gear to make sure he was okay.

He and Steph like to paint each other’s nails when one of them is stressed. After Damian comes out as pansexual, Steph paints little pride flags on his fingers.

He only plays Minecraft on creative mode. He likes building farms and wildlife preserves.

At 16, he gets asked out by a pretty girl in school that Damian had a crush on last year, but he thinks it’s a joke because he can’t fathom anyone liking him so he turns her down.

As he grows, his looks become more androgynous, again eerily resembling his mother, but his voice drops low enough that it doesn’t cause much misgendering.

Then he starts thinking of his gender a bit more and wonders if he’s also a They.

He likes to paint all over the soles of his shoes whenever he gets a new pair. No one will ever really see it, of course, and it eventually wears off the more he walks, but he knows it’s there.

It’s a nice day in the park. He’s doing homework on a picnic table while Titus and Ace run around, and he can’t stop thinking about his future.

Yesterday, there was a school assembly about choosing a career path. Alfred slid him an SAT prep book during breakfast. And his class was assigned one of those “Which career path is best for you?” quizzes.

He gets Veterinarian.

It takes a full five minutes as Damian stares at the results, thinking about the crazy, out-of-this-world idea of not being a vigilante or assassin his entire life, what it would be like if he just turned his back on the future which was so carefully laid out in front of him since birth, before it clicks into place.

Damian doesn’t want to be Batman.

He doesn’t want to lead the LoA either.

Two years later, Damian enrolls in Gotham University and majors in Wildlife Biology on the Pre-Vet track with a minor in Studio Arts. He gets a dorm room, works in the pottery studio, and volunteers at the local animal shelter.

He is content.

Does some of this stray from canon? Yes. However, I do not give a rat’s ass. Thank you, and goodnight.

2K notes · View notes