prompt 02: tim’s birthday present
Tim sat in his empty house at the empty dining table. The table was actually quite large; it had enough seats to sit at least 15 people. But there was just Tim there.
His parents had promised and sworn up and down that they would come back in time for his birthday. He had everything planned out. He picked out the birthday cake, put on the candles, decorated, ordered his parents' favorite foods, his parents' favorite movie for movie night, popcorn the likes. But that morning, just when Tim was double checking to make sure everything was ready for the most perfect birthday ever, his parents had called to tell him that something really important had come up, and they wouldn’t be able to make it. Tim figured it was better than last year, at least they called this time.
Tim stared down at the cake, the candles lit. He had heard online that people would make wishes on their birthday cake and blow it out. Tim thought that was a weird thing to do, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.
What should he wish for? It would have to be something special that he doesn’t already have. Tim thought for a long moment, the candles bleeding into the frosting of the cake.
A brother.
Tim closed his eyes and put his hands together like he’s seen the other children to do in the cartoons. And Tim wished for a big brother. When he finally wished hard enough (whatever that meant) he opened his eyes and blew out what was left of the candles.
Tim waited. What exactly was he supposed to do now? In the cartoons, everyone would celebrate and cheer and the birthday boy would open his presents. There wasn’t anyone to cheer for Tim, or any presents for him to open.
Suddenly the house shook, and the loud sound of a crash sound came from the backyard. Quickly, Tim did the sensible thing and go check out what the noise was. That's what the characters always did in horror movies.
In Tim’s backyard, there was what looked like a weird space ship that had crashed into his backyard. There wasn’t any fire or anything, but the spaceship looked pretty wrecked. Getting closer, Tim could vaguely make out that someone was inside the spaceship. Looking around, he saw what looked like maybe the handle. Tim couldn’t really tell.
When Tim put his hand on it and tried to open it, something poked out mechanically and pricked his finger. He flinched back instinctively, caressing his finger tip.
“Recognized: Danny Fenton. System Override.” A robotic lady spoke. Who is Danny Fenton? As if to answer him, the space ship opened its hatch, and inside was an unconscious black haired teenager. “System Malfunctioning. Please Assis-” The robotic voice spoke again, before getting cut off as if the power had died.
Suddenly, Tim remembered his wish. A big brother.
This was Danny Fenton, and he was supposed to be Tim’s big brother
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When Danny woke up, he found himself in a very soft plush something. Something that definitely wasn’t the Spector Speeder. Alarmed, he sat up quickly to find that he didn’t recognize where he was at all. He also didn’t recognize the weird kid that was staging at him from two feet away.
“Hi, I’m Tim. Timothy Drake.” The boy introduced himself almost business like.
“Uh, hi Tim.” Danny responded awkwardly. “You got any idea where I am?” Danny sat up properly, moving the blanket (?) off of him and turned to face the weird and kinda creepy kid.
“You’re in Drake Manor. Which is where I live.” He answered again.
“Ok…ay” Danny nodded thoughtfully. “Any idea how I got here?” Truthfully, Danny hadn’t really been expecting an answer, but he still got one.
“Because I made a birthday wish to have a big brother.” He answered in the same way he had answered the other question, very matter-of-factly.
“Ok- Wait. What?” Danny asked, doing a double take at Tim.
“You’re supposed to be my big brother, right?” Tim was starting to look a little hesitant, and as weirded out as Danny felt he couldn’t help but feel bad about the whole situation.
“Where are your parents, Tim?”
“There not home, because they had really important things to do for work.”
Danny nodded. “Do you know when they’ll be back?”
Tim shook his head. “They were supposed to come back today, because it’s my birthday. But they said they couldn’t make it.”
Well, shit. Didn’t that sound awfully like Danny’s birthdays before he had given up on his parents showing up. At least he had Jazz. This kid looked like he was alone.
Not liking the silence, Tim started fidgeting again. “So, are you gonna be my brother, then?”
And what was Danny supposed to say, No? Besides, if he was really causing problems being in this random universe, then Clockwork would figure it out.
Bonus:
Danny sat at Tim’s dinner table, the kid looking at him radiating in excitement, each with a plate of stupid expensive pasta in front of them. “You said your name was Tim, right?” Danny started thoughtfully. Tim nodded, drinking up everything Danny said. “Well, first course of action as you, big brother. I need to give you a nickname.”
Tim’s eyes sparkled at the prospect. “Like what?”
Danny tapped his chin exaggeratedly, “Hm… Tim, Tim.” Turing the name around while he absentmindedly twirled his fork between his fingers, Danny wondered what he should come up with. Suddenly, in a misplaced strength, Danny’s fork flew out of his hand.
Before Danny could even say anything, “I’ll get you a new one!” Tim offered quickly. Getting up from his chair, his foot got tangled behind the leg of the chair and Tim fell quietly on the floor with an oof.
Danny laughed at him. “You okay, Timbers?” He asked, getting up to check on the boy.
“Yeah, I like Timbers.” Tim said, a bright smile on his face despite the blossoming bruise on his arm.
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you have some really evil, selfish and toxic ideas irt whos allowed to have friends, you know? i see pop psy people like you all the time making lists of things that are clear and obvious trauma induced behaviour, and then immediately flip to how if you have a friend who ever behaves like this they are evil and need to be cut off, theyre not allowed to have support systems to get better! you really hate bad victims, huh? if someone isn't demure and cowering and self effacing in their symptoms they don't deserve anyone? i got assaulted and when my friend group threw me out on my ass and called me too fucked up for acting erratic and strange in the aftermath and being unable to communicate why they used your posts to justify it. its sick that people like you will look at someone uncontrollably acting out their ptsd and go wow you aren't doing this nice enough to be tolerated! people like you talk so much about compassion but when it comes to people in actual crisis you don't give a shit. no, theyre acting too problematic. just cut them off! no one should help their friends!
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Please allow me to take this opportunity to make some things clear.
First, you do not know me. You do not know anything about me. You do not know where I've been, where I'm going, or where I am. All that you believe that you know is extrapolated from information I have volunteered to share. Information that is, by clear and honest choice, edited for both safety and personal security. Remember this.
Second, and I say this in the kindest of ways, because I have had to learn this lesson myself:
Nobody Owes You Shit.
Have you ever saved someone from drowning?
I have.
Do you know that a drowning person struggling to get air will instinctively drag you under them?
It's hard to save people in the water. It takes specific skills and knowledge that not everybody has. Not everyone can save a drowning person without drowning in the process.
The lifeguard needs energy, and strength, and expertise, and persistence.
The swimmer needs self-restraint, and composure, and the desire to be helped, and the ability to do what they can to facilitate their own rescue.
I believe in kindness, and generosity, and compassion. I believe in trying persistently, and in giving the benefit of the doubt wherever possible. I believe that people are good, and small, and trying. And I believe that I can give all the energy I have inside of me to help someone and still come up short.
So you're drowning? I'm sorry. That must be terrifying. That must be miserable. You must be experiencing the worst moments of your life. I hope someone nearby knows how to help you. I hope they have a raft you can climb into, or a rope for you to grab, or a float you can cling to. I hope things get better. I'll call for help, and give you what I can to get you to shore.
But don't you dare drag me under water and curse me for saving myself.
Now get out of my fucking inbox.
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