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bored-platypus · 24 days

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the moon will sing (time traveling tim)

so. i saw this super awesome post by @puppetwoman17 about time traveling tim drake and got obsessed, so here's a small ficlet i wrote about it!

The thing is, Tim expects it. He’s faintly aware of the blood seeping from his stomach, staining his hands red— hands which are uselessly putting pressure on his wound. If he survives this, he doesn’t even want to think of all the weeks of pure agony and fever, brought on by the wonderful lack of his spleen and the fact that healing from wounds sucked, period.

Death isn’t surprising— he really didn’t think he would live past, what, twenty-five? Thirty? To live until beyond 50 with his lifestyle was, well. It sounded painful, anyways. And you would need to be a deeply paranoid neurotic. Like Bruce. Because as much as he respected his father and looked up to him, if Tim turned out anything like Batman, he’d probably find a bullet through his brain sooner or later.

Half because Tim was reckless and his plans were so convoluted and insane that nobody really knew what was going on either, just to confuse his opponent. The other half was, well. You can guess.

So. He’s bleeding out, the night is uncomfortably cold and the wind bites into his skin, sand grating against his back, and all Tim can think about is how much he hopes Ra’s al-Ghul doesn’t show up like a damned wraith and drag him kicking and screaming to the nearest surgery table and take out his kidneys or something.

Tim’s also thinking about his family. And the probable inconveniences that come with his death. Like arranging his funeral and all his assets and his Nest and the fact that Tim is a very integral part of the family and Dick will probably fall apart and Bruce will mourn and brood, and, and damn it. Tim should probably revoke his thinking process or something.

—

Tim is twenty three years old when he bleeds to death alone, and nobody finds his body until three weeks later when his family has scoured the Earth and his distress signal rings, rings, but nobody sees it. His predictions about his family come true.

But that isn’t quite relevant, because Tim isn’t aware of such a thing.

Instead, Tim closes his eyes and falls and jerks up on his bed, clutching his chest as years of memories flood his brain, too much for a mere eleven year old. It feels like his head has been cracked open and molten lava had been poured through, scorching his veins and circulation. It feels like agony of the highest level and Tim is faintly aware of the darkness creeping in, his mind too overwhelmed and overstimulated from years of memories flooding into his brain.

And so for the second time in a few minutes and a lifetime, Tim welcomes unconsciousness with open arms.

The next few hours are spent in pure agony, his body being too weak to move and his limbs too short for him to coordinate. He’s pretty sure that there’s a pool of dried blood underneath him from a nosebleed, but he’s too tired to turn around, so he just uncomfortably shifts away from it. Not for the first time, he thanks his lucky stars that his parents are neglectful, because he doesn’t even know how he would explain all of this.

Two days later, he musters the strength to stumble out of bed, gulp down the bitter, carbon dioxide-filled water next to him and get to the kitchen. It’s April 1st, twelve years ago, Tim is eleven years old, and his family doesn’t know him yet.

Half of the terrible things that have happened to Dick haven’t happened yet. Jason hasn’t died yet. Duke is still a kid and his parents are healthy. Babs hasn’t been put into a wheelchair by the Joker.

Steph is still living with her father. Damian and Cass are being trained as assassins.

Mrs. Mac is due to come in a few hours. Tim looks at the blood-crusted covers of his bed and his crumpled clothes.

Oh, shoot.

So instead of researching or training, Tim spends the next hour trying to get the bedsheets off with his tiny, noodle arms, half stumbling on his feet because he’s way too damn short, and making his way to the bathroom so he can take a shower and get some of the blood off so it doesn’t stain too badly.

It’s probably a lost cause. Not that his parents will notice or care about a missing bedsheet, but it feels wasteful to just throw it away to hide evidence of his unintentional time travel.

Two and a half hours later, Tim stumbles out of the laundry room, his bedsheets and pillow finally in the washer. He collapses on the nearest chair and scans the room for his father’s computer.

He lets out a shaky breath. His family is generally unscarred. Jason is Robin again. Jason. The boy who Tim had held with a certain degree of, well, disdain. Thinking about it kind of makes him want to punch is past self in the face, or cringe in the way that you can only do when you think of something embarrassing you used to do. Like victim-blaming your older brother for getting beat to death while trying to find his mother.

It wasn’t the only way he looked at Jason, but he had always thought of him as too reckless. Maybe he really did deserve the beating. Well, not that he believed that young teenagers should be beat up by young adults in Robin cosplay, but at least Tim wasn’t exactly traumatized by the experience. Better him than some other poor civilian kid Bruce could’ve adopted.

And Tim did get his revenge. By getting Jason on his private parts. But whatever. Revenge was revenge, and Tim was better than the whole crime lord setup his older brother had. In practice, anyways.

Chewing on the ballpoint pen, he writes down the first thing on his list (in code, of course) since coming back in time.

prevent jason’s death

Well. Now that he had a comprehensive list, Tim was down and ready to plan.

—

A hour later, Mrs. Mac appears, none the wiser to what happened to him. Tim greets her as she walks in, and she smiles and greets him back, putting lunch in the fridge. She notices nothing wrong about how he stays sitting on the chair in the living room, and Tim says nothing about it. When she leaves, he pulls the piece of paper out of his book and the pen from his hair, scratching down some extra points.

Hmm. Maybe the Court of Owls should go early. Or perhaps that would create too much change?

Dick would have a better time in the future if they were gone, though. Tim frowns, dragging his pen back and forth in a short line on the table.

He still needed to factor in the fact that he was an unknown to the family. The thing is, Tim loves their dysfunctional, broken family and he knows Bruce and Dick loved him back. But to be honest, it would be easier to change events if he wasn’t being scrutinized by Bruce every day. And it wasn’t like Tim had any shortage of money, with his parents still alive and his family fortune enough to cover whole lifetimes, so he wasn’t worried about his own safety.

It would be nice to go to college too. Maybe Stanford. He was smart enough to make it, and the location was close to the vigiliante community that if he so wanted to, he could probably join and watch his family from the outskirts. Last time around, Tim just couldn’t leave Gotham. Being a vigiliante was his life— he couldn’t even justify it as a temporary thing anymore. Their family had gone through so much tragedy and Gotham was still filled with crime and Tim had an obligation to keep her safe. It just… he couldn’t escape his mantle because he loved it, and Tim had a difficult time letting things go once he loved them.

But if Tim could change things from the start, he didn’t need to be pulled back into the life. (He couldn’t have it, even if he loved it, because it was never his in the first place.) He could start anew, be a vigiliante when he was in college and far away from the family he hopefully would’ve fixed by then.

Well then. First things first, he needed to remove a factor from Jason’s death so he wouldn’t die in the first place.

—

Mrs. Mac comes by and cooks him lunch, and they eat in silence. Typically, Tim would fill the silence with chattering, glad to have someone to talk to in the empty manor. But Tim’s mind is whirring, drawing up and discarding plans. By the time Mrs. Mac stands up and tells him she’s going to leave now, Tim has thought of three contingencies and twelve more future events he needs to address.

He mhms when Mrs. Mac prompts him to, and eventually she leaves out the front door, leaving him alone with his thoughts. It’s spring break and Tim doesn’t actually have anything to do because he’s in middle school now, so he mulls over the Jason problem for a few more hours.

It comes to him when he’s microwaving the leftovers from lunch, and Tim is pretty sure he’s a genius, or something. Sheila Haywood worked at a refugee camp in Ethiopia handling medical supplies, but she was embezzling funds from the organization she was working for. It wouldn’t be difficult for Tim to trace it and report her. By the time Jason began tracking her down, she would most likely be in prison, just for a few years and everything would hopefully blow over and the Joker wouldn’t blackmail her because she had no use to him in prison.

It was cold, perhaps. But her life wouldn’t be over with a few years in prison, and Jason would be alive. Nothing more than they deserved.

Jason, alive. Then Damian, Cass, and Steph. He would see to his family, whole and happy. Then perhaps, in the future, when he was older and safely out of Bruce’s adoption zone, Tim could perhaps work with them. Laugh about how he never expected the Wayne family to be vigilantes, just to throw them off his trail.

Tim allows himself this one selfish thought, because he has nothing else but the shattered remains of a future that will never come to be, and a family he left behind but still exists.

a/n:

i wrote this in two hours under an inspired haze of time travel and tim, two of my favorite things

tim is a super unreliable narrator if you haven't already noticed lmao

also if i get any characterization wrong feel free to leave some discourse or ping me on the head

but like please be gentle cause y'know constructive crit, not bashing

thanks for reading! :D

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pistachi0art · 3 days

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More Ben fam stuff I believe I have neglected to put here

#Neo’s way more of an E boy now #men’s fashion can be difficult sometimes aight #small things #the twins are Marley n Neo #bc YES I take back what I said about Ben not having any twin siblings #I like twin dynamics ok #and Cohen!#I’m going through his design n personality and have landed on ‘moody singer who writes songs about how shitty everything is’#he’s also like. coping bc he took Ben’s ‘thing’#long story short Ben really liked singing when he was younger but never wanted to pursue it #and Cohen just happened to also be really good but not as good as Ben so he claimed that singing would be HIS thing #and now he feels guilty bc he knows that Ben never pursued it bc Cohen took that confidence from him #and it was really more about the fame n glamour for Cohen too so #he feels his singing is ingenuous #lmao #lore jumpscare!!!#big thoughts #late night posting #benrey fam

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redladydeath · 1 month

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I've seen a couple posts now talking about the concept of an AU where Vox somehow gains control over Alastor's soul/contract. While I do agree with the common take that he'd probably try to mind control Alastor or break his spirit at first, I think he'd actually get bored of that pretty quickly. Alastor's appeal is all in his personality; putting him in a situation where he just shuts down and stops giving the reactions that make him who he is would lose its novelty for Vox within a month or two.

Imo, from there I see it turning into a "gilded cage" situation. Vox sets up a nice little club for Alastor to live in; it's classy and Alastor is free to do what he pleases with it, but he cannot leave and whatever Vox says goes. It's a kind of faux freedom that's just tolerable enough for him not to go insane, but just restrictive enough that he still feels like some kind of pet. Vox isn't physically around that often, but he's always watching; Alastor's free to make his own choices, but can only chose from a small, pre-approved set of options. It's actually not too dissimilar to the situation he put his own contractees in, and Alastor loathes that fact.

#i saw a really good analysis post recently about vox as a collector #someone who doesn't break his favorite toys but puts them in a glass case instead #and that combined with this au talk #well it got me thinking #he'd put al on display for everyone to see but no one's allowed to touch him but *him*#he's up on stage all day singing for the patrons #he can pick the songs and can even go out and mingle with the customers #but he's always got to get back up there eventually. no dilly dallying.#redlady speaks #hazbin hotel #alastor #vox #radiostatic #radiosilence #onewaybroadcast #hazbin posting #it's 1 am and i feel like my ability to write coherently has dissolved into nothingness rip

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sadlynotthevoid · 3 months

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The other day I had this weird dream where, in a timeline where the Soo's, somehow and for some reason, stopped the plaza terror incident— pretty much with no casualties. And then, like a week later or so, the king or Alberu (or any royalty, not sure who) gathered the nobles and other people related to the matter on the palace.

Here's when things start to... happen, I guess?

Turns out, between the people there was a really angry noblewoman who went straight to the king to ask for divorce of her husband. Not really sure what the guy did, but he was also there and he was kind of a jerk, so... Fair.

Zed, for this time in the right, tried to explain that 'yes, he can get them divorced, but right now was not the time for it'.

—It didn't worked.

The woman was really mad and indignated and the jerk of the husband wasn't helping. Obviously, the situation escalated.

The discussion turned into yells, which turned into them throwing things and a random woman (seriously, who was this? a mistress, maybe?) joining the jerk. Food was launched, Antonio Gyerre almost got a fork at the eye and, by the end of all this, Choi Han had a chicken wing on his hair (that was Choi JungSoo, actually).

After they got them separated, the jerk ended up being held by the guards for some reason (I think he threw a knife, but I'm not sure. It could had been Raon). The woman stomped off the room, being followed by a distressed maid holding a baby.

Five minutes later, Cale Henituse entered through the door, looking really confused. He glanced at all the people covered in food, at the man being picked like a naughty cat by the guards and at the spoon tangled in the king's beard. He tilted his head.

"What happened here."

And, instead of answering him, Bassen asked, "hyung-nim, what are you carrying there?"

Slowly, Cale moved the bunch in which he had his coat wrappled in his arms. He pulled off a piece of fabric a bit, showing a pair of litte hands to Bassen.

"—!!"

"Some crazy woman threw this baby at me at the hallway. Literally."

----

Then I woke up and now I don't know what happened later with og!Cale and his accidentally acquired baby. I mean, besides that he kept her, obviously.

#original cale henituse #og cale henituse #og!cale henituse #to everyone's surprise (except Lily's) og!Cale is really good with the baby #lily is thrilled that she has a niece now #then she sees everyone open-mouthed at Cale's behaviour and is really confused #'why are everyone so surprised? orabeoni used to pick me up and look after me all the time when I was a toddler #he still checks on me at night and sings me when I get sick'#bassen bluescreens because he thought he had dreamed that #Violan suspects something #Alberu also bluescreens but because he tried to imagine it and now he can't get over cale looking softly while under the moonlight #Raon Ohn and Hong get the Soo's adopted into Cale's family because they wanted to be the baby's cousins #lcf #og cale #og!cale #original!cale henituse #alberu crossman #bassen henituse #Cale stumbled into the fantasy noble version of finding a dumpster baby trope #is this og albecale? Yes #the answer is yes #OgCale Catches A Baby AU

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crybaby-bkg · 2 years

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Bakugou who isn’t above begging you for kisses. Has no qualms about pinching your cheeks in between his fingers, getting all close in your face while he pouts his lips at you.

“Where’s my fuckin’ kiss?” Says it like he’s so offended that you didn’t immediately cover him in kisses after he’s come in from work. Followed you all around the house while you chattered on and on about your day, only taking a breath to ask how his was, finding yourself cornered when you turn around. He’s all big and hulking, would be a terrifying sight to anyone who didn’t know that he was just a stupid clingy teddy bear.

“Gimme my damn kiss, woman,” he’ll bite at you when you’re too busy rattling off about how much you’ve missed him when he finally comes home after a long mission away. Grips your jaw between meaty fingers as he smashes him mouth against your own, tears mingling between your lips to make the kiss salty, but he swears he has missed your taste more than anything in the world.

“Can I please get my kiss?” He asks when he’s sleepy, dead tired and up far too late for his own liking. You’re up in bed beside him, tapping away at your phone, keeping him up bc you’re not cuddling against him. He paws at you, frowning, until you lean down and cup his cheek in your hand as you kiss him so softly, so sweet and gentle, that he can’t help but hum and sink lower into the cushions. He still grumbles when you pull away, but it’s enough to suffice tonight.

“I don’t care about your stupid morning breath, just kiss me already.” He’ll complain when he’s leaving for work in the morning, sitting on the edge of the bed where you sleep. He looks down at you with a soft smile, eyes gushing with love as he watches you frown and twist and yawn yourself awake. He won’t leave until you peck at his mouth once, twice, so many times that you have to push him away with a reminder that he has to go now lest he be late. He kisses your forehead before he leaves, and wishes you a good day.

“I’m alive now, ain’t I? Kiss me just to make sure I’m really here.” He tells you quietly from where he lays bandaged and bruised on his hospital bed, his good fingers weakly gripping your own as he watches the tears drip from your chin. His mouth is like a welcome home, his lips chapped and dry from dehydration, but he’s alive and this kiss he’s asked you for is enough proof of that.

Bakugou loves your kisses, and will never be above begging for them. They’re the only thing that keeps him grounded to this world, and for that, he’s forever thankful.

#soft and slightly angsty hours huh LOL #I love him sm #I write about kissing him too much but I can’t help myself </3 #I know he’d give the most intense and passionate kisses every time he saw you #sighhhh he’s such a dream #okay gn today was so long and filled with entirely too much interaction and socializing #it was nice tho bc I did my makeup after giving up on it Friday and it actually looked so good today!!!#I was taking pics n vids of my makeup after I finished and was singing along to this bkg song by Kamil #and I was looking at myself and was like #wow you’re really his pretty gf LMFAO #AND IS!!!!!!#I felt so pretty wow #okay I’m getting off topic bye lol #bakugou treats! 🍬#—new treat in the streets! 🍫

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