The Choices That Make Us, Part 1
This is a first for me- these are small, silly drabbles I write in my Google notes. Meant more to be a character study of Cedric, and how I interpret his thought process, his emotional/mental state, and the choices he makes to cope with it all. However, that being said, I do see these events as possibly happening in canon. Sorry but not sorry for writing such a heartbreaking drabble.
TRIGGER WARNINGS LISTED:
SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, SUICIDAL IDEATION AND ALLUDING TO THE ACT. PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION.
He felt a tear drip down his nose, the tearsrop hovering on the tip of it, as if contemplating whether it should fall off the ledge or not.
Just like I'm doing right now, Cedric mused.
Another tear falls down the same track as the previous one he shed, finally pushing that initial drop over the edge.
It fell.
He watches that tiny drop fall from his sight, probably landing somewhere on the paved, cold stone that lay at the end of such a drop.
Inconsequential. Unnoticed. Gone, in an instant with no witnesses except for himself.
By the time the guards or whoever the hell would stumble on his corpse, it wouldn't matter to Cedric. He would be long gone by then, and it wouldn't be his problem anymore, it would be someone else's.
But that's just the irony, isn't it? Even in killing himself, a mess would be made in his wake, and Roland would be right- it is Cedric who's to blame for it.
The bastard probably wouldn't even think to consider suicide- I'm sure they'd all think I'm a bumbling fool who fell out of his tower.
Cedric tried to laugh at his own cruel joke, but all that came out was a sob instead.
Even in death, he wouldn't know peace, would he?
No, no of course not. Because then his death would only burden those around him further. If he dies now, if he crosses this line, if he steps over this balcony tonight and his body crashed into the pavement like his tears, wet and splattered and broken then it will only cement his legacy as a complete and utter fuck up.
"This can't be it."
Cedric declared to no one, aloud. Although, with his shaking voice and white knuckled grip on the metal bars of his balcony, it felt more like a plea- to God, to himself, to the stars above, he didn't know- he wasn't sure what to believe in anymore.
"I won't survive this if it is."
Cedric's body sagged over the railing, his vision blurring with tears, the same way his vision would blur if he lefts himself lean any goddamn farther over this stupid balcony. His confession feels like an admittance of defeat, of anguish and despair, of all the things he cannot say to any soul in this castle and certainly not under the light of day.
Cedric thinks about tomorrow, forcing himself to get up once again even though his body feels as heavy and lifeless as a corpse these days. He's about as pale and skinny as one, too.
People haven't commented on the deepening bags under his eyes, or the frown lines hardening into trenches across his mouth and forehead. But he's seen, felt the looks of pity and disgust from passerby.
Like looking at a dying dog laying in an alleyway.
But even as they witness it, not one person reaches out. Those that do seem more predatory in their questions, like he has some big hidden secret beneath his haunted look and trembling hands.
In a way, he does. But it's not magic- it's a curse. It's decomposition. It's a vile, ugly beast that begs to be put out of its misery.
He doesn't know how long he can avoid it, or keep putting off his inevitable demise. But as each day passes, Cedric leans a little father out from the balcony.
Waiting to fall.
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DC x DP Prompt: Bruce is bad at emoting but at least ghosts are empathic (too bad bat kids are not)
Was reading Twincognito on AO3 when I stumbled across this gem again:
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" “Danny, Tim. I was just…checking in. Is everything alright?” Curse his inability to make meaningful conversation when it wasn’t a life or death situation.
They glanced at each other and shrugged.
Then Danny hauled himself out of the bed and walked over to Bruce.
Bruce tried not to let too much excitement show on his face. "
~
Now I really want to read a story where Bruce adopts Danny post Meta trafficking and is being his usual emotionally constipated self. His kids keep getting mad at him because he's treating their new meta brother who was trafficked poorly (generally being stilted in conversation with him, walking away hurriedly mid-conversation, avoiding Danny when he's feeling really awkward, etc). They think Bruce is discriminating against Danny for being a civilian, meta, dealer's pick, but really it's just Bruce being horribly socially awkward. Danny knows this because of ghost empathy and find the whole thing hilarious. The whole thing comes to a head with the Bat Kids staging an intervention in the Bat Cave.
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Danny’s on the Suicide Squad. He’s the defacto team moral compass and ray of sunshine. He plays the role of the camp counselor that keeps everyone in line. He’s not afraid of working with even the gnarliest of baddies.
Everybody on the team wonders how he ended up locked up with the villains- he never talks about what he did to end up behind bars no matter how much they pester him. Then one day they’re out on a mission and Harley or somebody is caught and tortured. Danny snaps. It’s the opposite of brutal- he takes down everyone in the room with clinical, dispassionate efficiency.
After it’s over and the team is safe he comes back to himself and is almost sheepish. He radios Belle Reve.
“Whoops. Add another couple notches on my power dampener collar, would you Waller?”
“Can’t, it’s already at max.”
“Ah. Well. I’ll have a look at strengthening it when we’re back then.”
The team just stared at him slack jawed. Good thing he’s on their side.
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