#losing family

[whumpshaped]

feeling for joel on this fine evening. cannot imagine losing your lifetime best friend to another’s selfish desires

this. ur so right. ur so absolutely right.

masterlist

tw emotional whump, losing family, perceived death/abduction

Neither of them spoke. Both of them had too much and nothing to say at the same time; they were full of self-blame, told-you-sos, sorrow, and grief, filled to the brim with tears they felt too guilty to shed.

"I should've known when he asked for the jewellery," his mother said quietly, choked up and barely there.

"He insisted," Joey breathed. "He insisted everything was fine."

He was staring at the empty apartment, a little part of him still hoping it wasn't a kidnapping after all. Maybe Beck left of his own volition; packed up, moved in with the vampire. Maybe he could still go to the mansion and break him out during the day, maybe he could bring him home and help him recover.

He should've come home sooner. He should've taken care of Beck. He should've ignored his cries of 'it's all fine, it's all fine, I'm just tired, don't visit right now'. They were both too caught up in trying to trust and believe him, to give him his space. He should've known better.

"I'm going to the mansion tomorrow," he exclaimed, and his mother spun around and grabbed him by the shoulders.

"You're not going anywhere near that place! Are you out of your mind? I just lost Beck! I just lost my son! I'm not losing my other son too!

"But maybe he's alive! Maybe he's just– enthralled! I could get him out!"

"No, you couldn't!" Her grip tightened, and she looked more determined than Joey had ever seen her. "You couldn't. But there are people who stand a chance. I'm not giving up on Beck, and I'm not asking you to give up either. I'm asking you to at least give me a month to mourn before you run into your death. Please."

Joey chuckled a little at the absurdity of the request, then wiped some of his tears away and hugged her. She hugged back, and for a moment he felt comforted and protected, as though he was just a little kid again, waiting outside Beck's hospital room. Except this time the threat wasn't a broken wrist that would go away in six weeks. It was a vampire. A dangerous, disgusting, violent, murderous thing.

"G-good, because I was scared to go anyway," he sobbed, failing to make it sound like a silly joke instead of the honest admission it was. "But I will, if the hunters fail. I will. I need– I need to..."

"Shh..." She rubbed soothing circles into his back that only made him cry harder. He could hear her sniffling too. She wasn't invincible, not when it came to family, and the fact that she was still forced to act as an emotional rock for her adult son made Joey want to jump off a cliff. He should've been handling this way better. But how did one handle his brother being gone — possibly kidnapped, possibly dead — appropriately? "He must be okay. He must've left on his own two feet. He even brought Boba, yeah? Maybe he's not in his right mind, but he's alive. We'll get him back."

"We will," he said desperately. "We have to. I don't– I don't think I can handle not getting him back."

~

taglist: @whumpsday @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @florissimps @nicolepascaline @oliversrarebooks @the-cyrulik @pirefyrelight @there-will-always-be-blood @pigeonwhumps @echo-goes-mmm @whumpycries @morning-star-whump @d-cs @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @tauntedoctopuses @blueyellow8green @typewrittenfangs @whumpsoda

[ahedderick]

MIL

   My husband is the only boy in his family, and has three sisters. All of them married before he met me. You can imagine the trepidation I felt upon meeting his mother for the first time. Only boy? Oh boy 😳

   Oh. my god. We pulled up outside his sister’s house. I’m not just meeting his parents for the first time, I’m meeting the Whole Crew. They come streaming out of the house, all twelve of them, led by Carollee. She flings her arms open to embrace me. She already loves me. I am just what the doctor ordered. Perfect. Everybody else in the family just saluted Carollee and did what she said (as per usual custom.)

   I was boggled to say the least. (also wondering if anybody in my family would want to. take notes or anything? Copy this behavior at all? No?) That woman proceeded to treat me like I was God’s specialest princess for the next nine years, until her untimely death from cancer.

   I think about her a lot as I meet my kids’ boy or girlfriends, and as I get ready to let go of them as they move toward independence. She was a role model. We’re not Jewish, but the phrase “may her memory be a blessing” is an excellent way to describe it. I think of her when I pull out the recipes she wrote down for me, or tell the kids family stories. Grandmom wrote this down when Dad was nine. Look how nice her handwriting was. She loved gardens and flowers. She was nosy and watched her neighbors a little too closely. She loved to sew and knit. She had a Baltimore accent. She lived a small life and made a fuss over her grandchildren. She lived. We lost her twenty years ago. Her memory is a blessing.

[gaylerant]

It’s been a while since I’ve even touched tumblr. My life changed on June 1st; it’ll never be the same. I lost the first guy I loved in my life, my dad. Still not okay from it, but better than I was.

I’ve included some pictures from over the years. There’s so many things I wish I said to him.

What hurts me the most isn’t thinking of the memories we had, it’s the future memories he won’t be apart of.

[pastelgrungewrecker]

Graveyard Vignettes

If you only knew what I've got to lose It's enough that I'm losing you

Almost an eternity of running scared from a second hand on a quartz face, and here is where it ends.

Stormy stood steady as time ran out over, and over, and over again- death a fear and a fascination all the same to a man who stopped aging after he had turned his back on God and Science enough.

The first to leave a cigarette burn sized hole in his heart was his foil.

It was unexpected- out of nowhere and silent. It was a call in the morning from Baba’s number- but with Ratchet on the other end.

Stormy remembered hearing how he cried. Finding it so.. so out of place; for this man to mourn like thunder and lightning when the one he knew never seemed to cry. He held tight to First Aid, swallowing the lump in his throat at the coyote cry torn from the younger CMO’s throat as Aid’s knees gave first.

‘It’s alright, it’s alright, I’m here. I’m here.’, he whispers, and wonders why that would be so comforting?

The funeral was small. Gentle. Quiet. The paradox doctors supported each other- Perceptor’s double holding tight to the shaking hands attached to wrist scars and murmuring gentle words in a mirror-mockery of the dead man they all mourned.

Mimi made no sound. Her siblings around her. Stardust hugged her leg, whimpering softly and Stormy moved to pick her up before pausing, and kneeling.

“Give your auntie lots of love today, okay?”, he whispers, hating the deadness in Mimi’s eyes, “She’s... She’s very sad. She’s got a crack in her heart, and needs all the love to make it better.”

And Stardust nods resolutely before wiggling her hands to be picked up by her silent aunt and she kisses Mimi’s cheek and holds her tight.

Mimi cries. Aid sobs. The family gets smaller.

The next to fade is a face that made Stormy’s chest tighten. He held his one-time bodyguard’s hand tighter when they got the news; Stormy’s double bawling his grief in starlight rivers and raging against every light that ever faded-

‘Please, please not him I can FIX THIS please I-I can, I can just-’

‘Brainstorm.’, says Stormy sternly, softly, ‘You and I both know that. That even modified hearts... eventually stop. No one lives forever, no matter how much they deserve it.’

The death of his double’s Whirl brushes him- runs a gentle finger over his jugular in a reminder that Death is ever present and unbiased.

But he hold’s his one-time bodyguard’s hand, and he wraps his other arm around Aid. He lets his double lean against him with blank golden eyes and he looks away from the flowers decorating the casket.

They are lilies. They are bright orange and speckled and stand stark against the black polish.

They are lilies. And then they are gone.

The next was... unexpected. It was watching him take such gentle care- a man made of violence and mystery and strange aeons where not even Death could touch him but...

Even lovebirds wear black feathers, sometimes.

And by the time Cyclonus admitted something was wrong, it. Was too late. Sight gone in one eye as it glossed over in grey and the coughs from old Dead Universe contamination wracked a chest turned shadowbox; Nothing left but a heartbeat and a picture of Whirl and Brainstorm when they were still wild and free and asking if he’d like to spend just a little time together...

He passes wrapped in quilts, surrounding by the family he took under his wing only to be carried in their heartside breast pocket like a ward against evil.

His eyes close, his smile is quiet. His hair long since white, and his cheeks are covered in kisses goodbye before they even begin to cool.

Stormy had been standing outside the door until Cyclonus called him in- long before the rest of the family arrived.

‘I leave my family with you, small warrior.’, he says, voice reedy and tired, ‘My loves, my younglings- I leave them with you. Take care of them for me, for I no longer can.’

‘Why me?’, asks Stormy as he hears the rev of vehicles pulling up.

‘Because you, who went long without love- know how much it is worth. And you will give it accordingly.’

‘Says who-’

‘I was like you once.’

‘Young, hot, fashionable?’

‘Afraid.’

Cyclonus passes when he is surrounded by love; Stormy is the one to gently whisper the old man’s preferred blessing as he pulls the sheet over an angular face.

Drift and Ratchet pass within months of each other- a stray cold brought home by the man who refused to retire and the man rebuilt and rebroken into porcelain and ash.

Aid swore he felt Ratchet leave- looking up in his doorway when he heard the familiar thunder-rumble of ‘Go home kiddo, you got a life to live outside’ve this damn medibay.’

‘But it’s the hospi...tal...’, he answered, leaning to follow the flash of red-auburn hair before ice coated his heart.

His father had greyed out many years ago.

Ratchet passed in his sleep- watching old memories and old footage from first birthdays and coughing like sandpaper. Aid was the one to find Drift leaning over the back of the armchair- chest jittering from silent sobs as Brainstorm stood, tired, in the dining room.

‘He’s gone. I can’t... I can’t believe...’, rasps Aid later, holding tight to a mug of hot cocoa as Stormy blinks old sleep from his eyes.

‘...Death come for everyone, eventually.’, says Stormy gently, ‘But we get what anyone gets, y’know? A lifetime.’

Aid chuckles weakly, tears still leaking down his face and Stormy suddenly notices the grey in his medic’s hair, ‘Where’d you read that?’

‘Some comic. C’mon. Let’s get a little sleep.’

The funeral is, again, small. Many faces show in passing, but none of them stay- save one.

Optimus- now Orion, again- bows his head at the grave. Aid stares at him.

‘First Aid, my condolences.’

‘Go to the hell you promised to save us from. Stay away from Papa.’

The words fall like old marble. The words fall like heaven falls.

They fall like dehydration tears and acid rain.

Stormy stands quiet, trying not to count who’s left.

...And then one day, his own pond is short a soul. 

It was only a noontime nap. Out, out in the backyard in the sunshine with Pulsar on his stomach and Stardust clinging to his side and she’s six, seven now... 

And Stormy hears the shriek of ‘DADDA! DADDA PLEASE WAKE UP!’

Its like running through molasses. Running through solid gravity and Stardust is sobbing like her heart is breaking and it is; it is and it’s breaking in time with Stormy’s because he can see from here that his Whirl, his first and softest and wildest, is cold.

He never fully recovers from the loss

He wishes it would rain, that God wouldn’t mock him like this.

Aid holds his hand tight, he doesn’t respond. He is crying, and unused to it.

He feels someone touch his shoulder, squeeze it softly. He looks up to dyed red hair... and looks away. Someone presses against his back, and Aid makes a soft sound of surprise.

Stormy looks to Aid’s other side, to see Percy; dramatic and decorated but still somehow muted. He wears his patch- the one over his eye with a familiar symbol upon it. Pristine, rarely worn or acknowledged but for this, well.

It’s the Ratchet he knows against his back, he and Drift-Deadlock-whatever name he had today.

He hears the whispers.

‘Aid, darling... How do I SAY this-’

‘After the service, we will be accompanying you to the local hospital.’, says the paradox Ratchet’s low and smooth voice, ‘Drift was. In a situation. Mimi is already there as is Dani.’

‘Oh no, what-’

‘Lovebird syndrome.’, said Percy softly, ‘He. He held on as long as he could, for Brainstorm but... But there’s only so far a broken heart can crawl.’

The funerals were days apart.

Stormy sits heavily weeks later next to his double, and sighs.

‘Past few years have been. A lot, copycat.’

A nod, ‘Mhm. Tell me about it. At this point I’m just.. waiting.’

‘Waiting?’

‘To go.’, says Brainstorm softly, ‘To see them again.’

Stormy sighs, putting an arm around his double’s shoulders, “Well. If. If not for me, then for the younglings, and for Aid- stick around as long as you’re able, okay?’

‘Why. The ones I love are... are dead.’

‘And the ones who love you are still here, feeling the sunshine and seeing what life can be. So.. Stick around, okay?’

Brainstorm made it to Stardust’s middle school graduation. He smiled, and laughed, and ate cake and let the melancholy in his eyes brighten the joy in his smile.

And that night in a lonely house in the basement workshop still smelling of cake and spring pollen... Brainstorm sat down heavier than normal in his favorite work chair. He sighed a little too deeply. His eyelids felt a little heavier than normal.

His heart beat a little slower.

Time passed... and took him with it, this time- no briefcase to stop it.

Stormy stood at the forefront of the time-worn remnants of the family. The clouds were heavy but dry, the air was warm and smelled of new grass and old trees. The words that were spoken were simple, and sweet.

Both of the Quickdraws stood on either side of the darker double of the man in the ground.

Like guiding angels, they watched it lower- casket covered in carnations in white and yellow and red.

‘He always liked them.’, said the pale haired Quickdraw as his double let him lean against a shoulder, “Re. Reminded h-him of. Of fireworks.’

Stormy looked away when tears fell.

Now, he looked upward, feeling something cold in his stomach as he took an unconscious attendance of the gathered family.

Something seemed to hiss in the back of his mind like a warning.

But no amount of warnings could have prepared him.

Nothing could have readied him to be standing in the doorway with Stardust standing next to him- nine year old Pulsar holding tight to his Dad’s leg as words wrapped in iron filings and arsenic burned all the way down.

“We’re so sorry, sir- but. There was an accident.”

“Who put you up to this, this isn’t funny-”

“Sir.”, said Dom, having taken his father’s mantle years previously, “Doublestorm, listen- The last thing I’d wanna joke about is my brother-in-law’s older brother dying in a wrecked ambulance. Now... Please, come on. We need you to. Id the remains.”

“How.. callous.”, says a too-smooth voice from behind the younger officer, and he turns in shock.

And Percy is there, and Ratch is there, and Drift is there- but not, but they are. The faces familiar from their paradox hell, from their alongside opposing force to this new existence.

They are here, and Percy is gently waving Stardust and Pulsar over with soft words, “Come along, lovies- come with Auncle Percy and Uncle Ratchet, hm? Yes, Uncle Lock is gonna go with your Daddy-”

“But we want BABA-”

“I know, baby. We’ll go and wait for Dad to call us, okay? Just to be sure, to be safe.”

“...Okay.”

And Driftlock, Deadlock, Drift- the man of many names who dodges Death with ease is gently propping Stormy up, guiding him like a gloved hand guides living samples and time moves slower and almost not at all.

And then he’s looking down at blue lips, empty veins- blank eyes. First Aid is cold and rigid and gone, the husk on the gurney is empty and the wail torn from Stormy echoes up an down a bloodline all but lost.

And Lock’s hand is warm, he whispers a prayer and Stormy can’t find the words to thank him, not yet. He howls his grief and drops to his knees as tears force themselves free in modified eyes because there are some loves you mourn in silence and there are some losses that you make sure God can hear the echoes of the heartbreak.

When the tears run out and his voice finally grates into silence- when all he can do is stare with grief rimmed eyes... He hears footsteps. He looks up at Ratchet. He looks up at Lock.

“They. They took him. From me.”, he rasps, “Where. What do. What do I do?”

Lock looks down, and it’s Ratchet who helps gather up what’s left of Stormy.

“You rebuild.”, he says- and Stormy almost hates how comforting the rumble of his voice is, “You rebuild, and remind yourself you aren’t alone, and there’s still people to come home to.”

“How?”, laughs Stormy weakly, broken and worn from hysteric grief, “How am I going to take my children- Aid’s children, home to a house full of fucking GHOSTS.”

“You fill it with warm bodies, obviously.”, said Ratchet matter of factly, usually together hair messy today, “Now... come along. We’ve just gotten the kids settled for the evening.”

“But-”

“No buts. No bickering, no arguing, no facades Brainstorm. You aren’t going to be alone, not tonight. Not again.”

Stormy stared, blinking in sudden surprise as he hears the door of a vehicle that cost far too much open. He eases in, the leather interior smells clean and old and comforting.

He stares at nothing. He feels time drag jagged nails over his heart with every tick of the clock and he lets tears fall in fits and bursts as his mouth goes dry and his hand shakes.

He’ll never admit how comforting the smell of lilies and remains was when he entered Ratchet and Percy’s lavish home. Never admit how comforting it was to have a warm mug that smelled of spices and mulled wine put into shaking hands as he leaned his head against the hip of a standing sniper.

Never admit how comforting it was for Percy to gently shoo him into a far-too-large room where his son and daughter curled up worriedly on down comforters like scared goslings.

“Baba’s gone. Isn’t he.”

“Y.Y-yeah, he is.”

“...I want him b-back.”

They cried together, curled up against a backdrop of riches. They fell asleep clinging to their last parent. Stormy sat with his back against the headboard and stared up at the painted ceiling.

Impressionist, it looked like- mourning glory and jasmine and lily of the valley.

Funeral flowers.

And then a soft hand brushed Stormy’s cheek.

“Tuck them in, sweetling.”, whispered the sniper, “And come with me.”

And Stormy hesitantly, slowly, moved to wrap his children in warmth and soft eggshell-cream white. They nuzzled into pillows, and held onto each other in his absence... and slept on.

And Stormy’s hand was taken, led into the bright body of the house where Ratchet and Drift sat with drinks in hand-

And Percy was there, and soft, and gentle, and handing him a sweet coffee in the little mug with whipped cream and smelling of chocolate and caramel.

“Stay.”, said Percy simply.

Stormy looked at him in shock, then to Ratchet.

The mad mod medic himself chuckled, and nodded in agreement, “Yes. Stay, here.”

“With us.”, said Lock, “Us, and Belle- Pulsar and Stardust and all the family. Stay.”

“But- But the house-”

“Keep it, if you’d like. But please, Stormy- don’t be alone.”, said Percy softly, a hand against the one-time warmaster’s cheek, “Stay with us, please.”

“I.. I.”

‘I was like you once.’

‘Young, hot, fashionable?’

‘Afraid.’

And Stormy swore his ribcage broke, words tumbling out of him about memory and mourning and all manner of things until it crescendo’d like a tidal wave all the way up to-

“I’m scared to be without Aid!”

“I know, precious.”, said Percy, and Stormy wondered when the vampiric sniper had folded him into so tight a hug, “I know you are, precious. but please- let us help you.”

“But. But why would you want to-”

“You’re family.”, said Drift.

“Yes, we may have our disagreements but that changes nothing about how we feel about you.”, said Ratchet with a huff and raised eyebrow.

“And we love you, darling.”, said Percy with a tired smile, “We love you, and the children- because you’re our family.”

Stormy let his eyes close; suddenly understanding what Cyclonus meant.

“I. I’m afraid of. Being alone, right now can... can me and the kids...”

“Stay as long as you need precious.”, shushed Percy as he dabbed at Stormy’s newly leaking tears with his sleeve, “Stay as long as you like. We’re here.”

[amalgamezz]

ALT

[batfamhyperfixation]

Bruce, running his plan for an undercover operation past the batkids chillin in the living room while post-‘knowing secret identities’ Bernard is there: -and then we will hustle the information out during pool, start stakes low and give them a false sense of security before winning

Bruce: obviously Tim will do that part

Bernard: Tim sucks at pool tho? He can barely make any in and, hell, I made it into culinary school with how many times I was sent to the kitchen to shoot after he hit the cue ball in

Dick: Tim? Our Tim? The one who wins every time? Who was the cause of the rule in the mansion against us ever playing pool

Damien: such a baby, gets stabbed one too many times by sore losers and just has to ruin it for the rest of us

Duke: Tim has hustled all of us outta so much money that at this point it is a part time job for him

Bernard: ??? Tim never wins against me?

All turning to Tim:

Tim, face completely red: he- he always gets so excited when he is winning and he just looks so cute- and his trash talk is basically just flirty banter- and it’s not my fault when he looks like THAT

Tim, shrugging: he just has an unfair advantage over the rest of you, like maybe if any of you were attractive you would start winning pool more too

Jason: and he wonders why he’s been stabbed so many times

[maybmila]

Uh oh...

Next

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Eyes

Dp x Dc Crossover Writing Idea

“Red Robin!”

When he backtracked to find the owner of the voice he was a bit surprised to find a young boy, maybe eight years old if he had to guess, dressed in a red sweatshirt that dwarfed him and a pair of gym shorts that had seen better days.

Not many Gothamites called out to the vigilantes, a silent agreement to stay out of their way and not to look too closely. This kid however stared up at him with bright blue eyes unafraid of getting the Red Robin’s attention.

A fan?

Before he even opens his mouth, the kid gives him a small, hopeful smile, eyes shining with something that reminds him of himself when he was that age and following Batman and Robin with his camera around his tiny neck.

“I brought you a gift,” the boy say with nervous excitement. He enthusiastically swings off the backpack he had on to dig through the contents, taking his eyes off the vigilante and showing his unwavering trust that nothing bad would happen to him while Red Robin was here.

The boy pulls out what appears to be a jar wrapped in newspaper, the worn page ripping in some spots to show the clear glass underneath. Small hands present it like it’s Red Robin’s birthday (which it wasn’t).

He takes it cautiously, the kid hasn’t been hostile but this was still weird, and pulls it closer with enough space so if it’s a bomb it doesn’t blow up in his face.

It’s got weight to it and the slight sloshing tells him it’s filled with liquid. He carefully unwraps the ‘gift’, keeping his eye on the boy who stands waiting anxiously.

Tim almost drops the jar as soon as he sees what’s inside. Only his reflexes from over the years held on and his expression turned neutral.

A pair of eyes sit at the bottom of the jar. The orbs were crudely extracted, tissue floating around them like a mane of hair around a head.

He turns the jar to see the irises and… he knew these eyes. The slimy green is filmed with death, but he recognized these eyes from the number of times the owner locked them onto him, the cruel possessiveness they possessed when they gazed at him. Never again apparently.

Tim doesn’t speak for a while, not knowing what to say, but also thoughts racing too fast to form any proper sentences.

“Do you like it?” The small, nervous voice interrupts those thoughts.

What an innocent question on an equally innocent looking face.

“How did you get Ra’s Al Ghul’s eyes?”

The teasing chatter over the comms immediately hushes into shocked silence.

“I took them from his body, so you knew he was dead. I burned the rest so you don’t have to worry about him coming back again. The Pit there is gone anyway,” the child explains easily, not fazed in the slightest from the words he speaks.

“Grandfather is dead?” He hears Damian whisper over the comm.

So many other questions were flying through Tim’s head. He looks the kid over again.

Black hair and blue eyes. In any other situation the kid might have been a possible Wayne adoptee. He’s not a clone from what he can see though. Despite the coloring he doesn’t really look like any of them. Pale skin like Tim, but has freckles. The same kind of nose as Damian, but wide, round eyes. Jaw kind of like Jason, but his body shape is too narrow. Bright, almost icy blue eyes like Dick, but eyebrow shape is flatter. Lip shape like Bruce, but from the kid’s anxious lip biting he could see the faintest trace of dimples.

“Who are you?” He asks instead of the other million and one questions.

The boy blinks almost like he wasn’t expecting the question. He’s cheeks color pink with blush as he grins widely.

“I’m Danny!” He introduces cheerfully like he didn’t just hand a vigilante a jar of eyes.

“Hi, Danny,” Tim greets almost dumbly. “Want to tell me why you gave me this?”

Danny scoffs his shoe against the pavement in what appears to be embarrassment.

“Well, I know when you ask someone for something, it’s nice to give a gift or something. Like I did something nice for you so maybe you’ll do something nice for me?”

He takes a moment to absorb that child-like reasoning.

“So you want me to do something for you and you thought I would like Ra’s Al Ghul’s eyes in exchange?”

Danny studies him and fidgets with the large sweatshirt sleeve.

“I just thought you would like proof. Like the whole ‘bring me the heart of my enemy’ kind of thing. Do you not like it? I couldn’t just take a picture ‘cuz I didn’t have a camera with me, I know you like photography. I can do something else for you if it’s not enough,” he offers worriedly.

Tim freezes.

“How do you know I like photography?” He demands.

Danny tilts his head curiously.

“Because Tim Drake likes photography,” he says like it’s obvious, “and you’re Tim Drake.”

Well. This is less than ideal.

“Red Robin, take him back to the Cave,” Batman instructs over the comms.

Yeah, he was getting there.

“Do you know the other’s’ identities?”

Danny nods and hums affirmatively. Tim waits.

“Oh! Yea. Batman is Bruce Wayne. Robin is Damian Wayne. Red Hood is Jason Todd. Nightwing is Richard Grey-“

“Okay. That’s enough.”

Tim glances around the empty alley they were standing in, checking to make sure no stray people heard. Luckily they were truly alone.

“Danny, do you want to come back with me?” He asks, but it’s not really a question. The kid was coming back regardless, it would just be better if he went willingly.

Unsurprisingly, the kid lights up like a little sun at the offer.

“Really?” He nearly shouts in excitement.

“Yeah, kid. I parked my bike a few blocks from here. You ever rode a motorcycle before?”

Danny shakes his head, nearly bounding on his toes.

“Not in this lifetime.” And wasn’t that odd wording? “Are we gonna grapple there?”

“Think you can hold on?”

“Yeah!”

He kneels down so the boy can climb onto his back and lock his arms around his neck and hook his feet together around his torso. Danny is worryingly light as he stands.

The kid is the picture of an excited and overeager child as they carefully fly over rooftops and then drive back to the Cave. Even when they park inside the safety of the Batcave, Danny’s eyes are filled with child-like awe and wonder, so curious and chattering with questions and wild imagination. It would be cute, endearing even, if the jar of eyes wasn’t sitting heavily in his pocket.

Alfred came down not too long after their arrival with a tray of healthy snacks and some waters. Danny happily munches on the apple slices as he wanders around where Tim can see him.

The rumble of the Batmobile can be heard almost an hour later after Tim has to tell Danny not to touch the weapons for the fourth time. The kid’s attention is drawn to the sleek black vehicle as it parks by Tim’s bike. He trots over with wide eyes as the doors open and Robin exits, then Batman.

Unfortunately, Dick is in Bludhaven and Jason is visiting Roy and Lian this week. Cass and Steph were gone as well and Duke was sleeping. It was just the three of them and this kid with Alfred as the only buffer.

Danny stares openly, curious, as the duo makes their way over to the computer where Tim has claimed his sit.

Tim turns the jar that he set on the table so the eyes are facing them and slowly leans back again, suddenly very tired. Damian flexes his hands into fists tightly while Batman is very still.

“Hi,” Danny chirps like nothing is wrong, oblivious to the tension in the air.

Batman takes a measured breath. Robin glares down at the child, but remains silent for now.

“Who killed Ra’s Al Ghul?”

Danny blinks blankly.

“Nobody.”

“You’re saying he just dropped dead?” Damian sneered in sarcasm.

“Death took him,” the child says simply as if that explained everything.

“How?” The word is demanded and emphasized.

“Like Death takes everyone. His expiration was overdue.”

Bruce frowns and Damian almost snarls.

“I demand you start making sense!”

Danny glares back in offense.

“I’m being very clear! Maybe you should ask better questions!”

The twelve year old growls at the smaller child and Batman has to place a firm hand on his shoulder to keep him from attacking.

“Danny?” Batman questions after a tense moment.

The boy’s arms are crossed in irritation, but he blinks out of his glare to stare up at the man.

“Yea?”

“How do you know our identities?”

“Oh, memories.”

Danny looked like everything he said made sense and it was driving Tim up a wall.

“Memories,” Bruce repeats.

“Uh-huh,” Danny nods confidently. “From the Lazarus Pit.”

A jolt goes through Tim as he recalls what the boy said earlier about the Pit.

“Didn’t you say the Pit was gone?” He asks before Bruce could continue his line of questioning.

Danny turns with a bright smile as if he was proud Tim remembered.

“Yea! Well, gone from this world anyway.” Tim was concerned. “I took the memories from it before sending it back where it belongs.”

“Okay. How did you know how to ‘take the memories’ and send it back? Back where?”

“I was born from it. Duh. It went back to the Realms or I guess you’d call it the Afterlife,” Danny actually rolls his eyes as if they should already know this.

“Born from it?” Damian asks with a wavering voice, hidden well from the child but not from them. “Nothing has ever been born from the Pits.”

“That you know of.”

And wasn’t that the kicker.

“So, to clarify, you come from the Pits. You know who we are because you took the memories from said Pits. Death took Ra’s because his time was up. And you took the eyes from his corpse to give to me because you thought I would like it as a gift so I would do something for you.”

Danny positively beams.

“This is why you’re my favorite!”

Damian grinds his teeth harshly.

“What is it you want Red Robin to do for you?” Batman asks in strangled hesitation.

“Oh!” Danny perks up like he remembered and hops over to Tim with pleading hands. “Can you please make me an identity? You’re really good at all that stuff and I was hoping you could find me a family. Someone to adopt me. A nice family, with a bed and family dinners and a dog. I always wanted a dog.”

Tim has the sudden urge to scream.

[wherewolf]

the responses i’ve seen to shiv’s ending seem very quick to write her off as just another sad victim of the cycle, which isn’t without truth BUT!!! that is not even remotely the summation of shiv’s story.

i don’t think she votes yes to “save kendall” or to try to finally set her brothers free. and i don’t think her main concern was that ken was becoming their dad. she absolutely noticed and didn’t love it, but that was not her motivation in betraying him. she was thinking about herself.

it’s tempting to make a martyr out of her as she is the only female child and we see her suffer the onslaught of misogyny that comes with that. but to make her into a saintlike figure who got beat takes away the power and intelligence behind her decision.

at this point she’s stuck between two non ideal choices, but she recognizes that they have accidentally made her the single most important player in the game. because while she can’t have the outcome she’d prefer, she has the power to decide the fates of everyone else. the written off lone woman now holds in her hands the fate of every man in her life.

so she thinks about the long term benefits of both options and realizes that one side leaves her completely without any leverage.

her brothers have proven to her multiple times in the last few days alone that they will cut her out and walk all over her the first chance they get. siding with them leaves her nothing to bargain with. she would just have to hope that ken would actually take care of her. and that level of vulnerability is not only unacceptable to her, it’s stupid. and shiv fuckin roy is not stupid.

so she thinks about the other side and about what she actually wants for her life. and against her better judgment, it’s becomes unfortunately clear that she wants tom. the way she wants him is not altogether loving or even good but it is necessary to her. she sees relationships as having winners and losers and she chose this man specifically so that she could be confident in her ability to win. except now he’s grown some balls and made himself unavailable to her.

she may not like the way her husband is evolving but she already placed her bets on him, so she’s sure as hell not losing to him now. there’s also a part of her that feels intrigued by this new man she’s married to. it’s interesting to have a sparring partner in him instead of having to looking for excitement outside of their marriage.

so for maybe the first time ever, she processes what tom has said to her and thinks about what he actually wants.

he needs her to prove that she cares. he needs to know that she is capable of sacrifice. if she can’t find it within herself to do this for him, then she will lose him, and by extension, she will lose.

siding with tom gives her the opportunity to once and for all make a grand-stand gesture of love, but more importantly, it creates leverage for her. never again will he be able to hold the moral high ground over her head. never again can he say she doesn’t love him. never again can he call her selfish or uncaring. above all, he can never betray her again, because she just removed all of his moral justification for turning on her. he doesn’t realize it yet, but she’s just taken back all the power in their relationship. just in a more subtle way than she’s used to operating.

and just like that, she has the ceo of a multi billion dollar company in her pocket, while situating herself as the only descendant of logan roy to still be playing the game, having removed her brothers from the equation permanently. she may still be far from the top but she’s creating a path for herself to climb.

so yes, she’ll let tom play king for a day, and she’ll have his baby and say “congratulations,” and play the gracious wife, but tomorrow is a new day with lots of room to maneuver. and when her husband puts out his hand, she’ll place her own on top. but she won’t grasp it because she doesn’t need to.

[whoreraccoon]

Dp x dc crossover

Danny’s got dozens of favors to cw to pay back so when the bats get stuck in time shenanigans cw gets Danny to pull them out and fix it for him to pay back the debts

Danny’s annoyed and wondering how one family who don’t even have superpowers can get into so much time shit (it’s the flash family’s fault)

Batfam are confused abt who this time traveling/fixing kid is and why he owes so many favors to a mysterious powerful figure

Cw is laughing bc he knows no matter how this pans out it’ll be deeply entertaining in a non apocalyptic way

[megabuild]

it's really sort of insane how much jellie meant not just to fans of scar but to fans of hermitcraft in general. she was practically a character in her own right with the way she was brought into anything scar did, running the mayor campaign, becoming a mascot of scarland... her memory lives on not just as one of the minecraft cats but in the hermitcraft world downloads and the endless fan content of her. rest easy little kitty.

[ahedderick]

I’m in violation (maybe)

   I spent quite a while on the phone with the Motor Vehicle Admin yesterday one the subject of my late father’s car. He had signed the title over to me after (reluctantly) accepting that he couldn’t drive any more. However, I didn’t know what to actually DO about that to finalize it with MVA. Then, the next month, he ended up in the hospital and passed away. In the pressure and hustle of taking care of EVERYTHING for my house, his house, the hospital, his finances, our farm, two kids, and so on - the car issue fell completely out of my mind.

   Then I (technically HE got it, but I continue to monitor his email) got an email notice for updating registration, along with a snippy notice that there was a problem. Apparently, they noticed (16 months late) that he was dead. 

   Well. Kiss me on the forehead, I guess. (sardonic)

After quite a while on hold, two trips through the automatic phone menu, and two human MVA folks, I ended up with an appointment for this morning at my local office. Also a splendid headache and some chest pains. This morning I woke up my heart literally thudding in my chest. Honestly, the folks at the local MVA office are head and shoulder above the ones in the state office when it comes to getting stuff done and being helpful. Other that That Thing with Evelyn last year, they’ve always been unusually nice. I have just -  come to DREAD these estate details*

   I drove up there trying very hard to listen to the radio and not think. The guy at the main check-in desk was brisk and friendly. I literally didn’t even get completely seated in the waiting area before my number was called (first appointment of the morning!). The lady behind the desk was quite stern at first, then unbent enough to smile at me and josh a bit. The car will need an inspection (oh, dear), but all the paperwork bullpucky is done and the inspection can be done anytime in the next 30 days. I’ll probably let my husband handle that part.

   I took my Dreaded List to the appointment with me, and nervously asked her what to do about the other vehicle, a wrecked truck. We still have it properly registered and insured, but it will certainly not ever run again, and I’d like to just turn in the tags. She explained the process for that to me, and I picked up a form (of course there’s a form!) on the way out the door.

   Whoooo. I have plenty of other things to do today. But that feels like a Big thing off the list, and I’m going to take a moment to be grateful. And scroll Tumblr. Thanks again to whoever taught me to use Ublock to block ‘elements’, because there’s a wacky little thing on the side of my dash that I don’t want to see. I have, I must say, the BEST followers.

* Also got a note two days ago that we owed $21 extra to the state for taxes for 2022. Jeeeez Holy Hypotenuse Christ

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Let the revenge games begin.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[wasyago]

old men

[kedreeva]

We drove across the state today to set up a photo frame device for my aunt, and introduce her to Bug. While we were there, we took her and her bf to dinner across the street from her complex, and my mom texted to ask how we'd gotten my aunt over, since we're in my dad's fuckoff big truck and she's not able to climb into it. My dad texted back that he just tied a tow cable to her wheelchair and drove over, and my mom texted me to find out the truth but

My aunt laughed until she wheezed and told us to stop being so mean to her sister, but when we got back to her apartment:

She helped us get "proof" to send my mom because you gotta have a little fun teasing your siblings

[turtleblogatlast]

I love Raph and haven’t said that enough so to be more specific I love that Raph is a soft boy who loves bear plushies, a gross boy who eats an assortment of things that are definitely better left alone, a smart boy who is more than capable of taking down villains through planning and fortitude alike, a strong boy who is dedicated to training his muscles and fighting prowess, a teenage boy who loves his brothers but is more than happy to tease and roughhouse with them, an angry boy who sometimes lets his anger take a hold of him to cover the fear, a gentle boy who is generous with hugs and affirmations to those he loves, a capable boy who takes on more than should ever be expected of a teenager, a good boy who just wants to be a hero and slowly comes to realize the cost of that duty, a good boy who has no reservations about putting himself in the way of harm coming to his family, a good boy who’s a great brother and son and person and deserves only the best the world has to offer.