#I’ll finish the fic eventually | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bored-platypus · 2 months

Text

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

116 notes · View notes

try-set-me-on-fire · 8 months

Text

Tagged by @rewritetheending @eddiebabygirldiaz and @wildlife4life for fuck it Friday, so fuck it I’ll reveal the concept for what the new wip is about… what if a classic near death confession but Buck isn’t the one Eddie gives the confession to…

Eddie’s eyes open, look straight into his, and his next words are remarkably clear. “I love him, Bobby.”

“No,” he shakes his head, a strange and frantic panic bubbling up inside him. “You can’t tell me this- you can’t tell me this-“ a hundred smiles shift slightly to the left in Bobby’s memory. It’s barely a surprise, really, he picked Eddie out for Buck himself, years and years ago. He thought they’d make a fine pair. “You have to- we’re getting out of here and you’re telling him yourself, you can’t-“ He remembers holding Buck after the well collapsed. He remembers watching the kid’s heart crack open and having the irrational thought that Bobby had to be ready to catch the pieces when they fell out of him so they wouldn't get muddy. “Don’t make me do this.”

"Please." Eddie's gaze is getting swimmy. "He has…" God, there's blood in his mouth, it's coating his teeth. "H- he needs to know he’s loved- I didn’t get the chance-“ Eddie’s inhale is a rattle, he makes a sound that’s sort of a laugh and sort of a sob without enough air for either. “I didn’t get the chance. He- he’s everything- he deserves- please, please you have to- to tell him-“

“Eddie,” Bobby says, his own voice cracking. “Don’t-“

Eddie’s hand squeezes, once, where it’s still limply grasped around Bobby’s arm. His eyes search and then focus. “Please.”

He says it like Bobby asked if he wanted toast with his eggs. It’s the ease of it, the lack of desperation, that has Bobby saying “Alright, okay, just- I promise, Eddie, now you just stay with me and we’re going to get out of here.”

@tayf-ghost @jeeyuns @devirnis @shitouttabuck @forthewolves @anxieteandbiscuits if you have anything to share!

#eddie Diaz classic avoidance maneuver die before you have to deal with an emotional situation #(he’s not going to die) (and he really was going to tell buck himself he just waited too long)#tag games #i dont know if I’ll finish this or death fic first its kind of a toss up #i think i have about the same amount of work to do in each #shrug! it’ll all get out there eventually

166 notes · View notes

girafficparka · 7 months

Text

Gorgeous and actually buff Shepard - check

Flight suit Garrus showing a little sumthin’ sumthin’ extra - check

Talons and claws! - check

Best friends with benefits who are too caught up in their own heads to realize it might be love - also check

Milkywayes (go check out their tumblr- shakarian perfection) is an amazing artist and did this comish for my ao3 fanfic Comparative Anatomy. Thank you love!

Welcome into my brain people - I can’t get these two idiots out of it.

#they love each other so much it’s stupid #femshep x garrus #garrus x shepard #garrus my beloved #shakarian #garrus x femshep #shepard x garrus #garrusvakarian #female shepard #milkywayes #I swear I’ll stop posting this and finish the sequel eventually #mass effect fic

90 notes · View notes

faarkas · 9 days

Text

SO I GOT CARRIED AWAY.

tagged by @imperial-agent @rhettsabbott @katewalker @lestatlioncunt and @pawnguild to do this picrew, ty so much squad 💖💖💖💖

left to right:

nanami & hiroko (jjk), valenzo (cp77), takemura & verde (cp77) miguel & shoko (jjk), serana & dagandriah (skyrim), wyll & anastasia (bg3) alistair & anna (da), morrigan & gwenyth (da), zevran & ella (da)

tagging: @okkoutsu @pensdragon @leefi @eviefrie @barbecutie

@ugh-my-back @swordcoasts @geniichiro (no pressure tho of course)

#valenzo and verde goro are SOOOOO bastardized but they’re still cute 😭#ocstuff #ig this confirms i’ll save nanami in my fic that i will eventually update and finish i kept going back and forth on if i’d let him die or #not. we’ll see.#zev and ella turned out so fucking cute 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭#oc: hiroko #oc: lorenzo #oc: verde #oc: miguel #who’s name i rly need to change since actual jjk miguel i forgot about when i named him is. a prominent character.#oc: dagandriah #oc: anastasia #oc: anna #oc: gwenyth #oc: ella

23 notes · View notes

medievalthymes · 5 days

Text

everyday I sit down and write approximately 50 words of my burrich/chivalry fic so y’all may see the next chapter sometime within approximately the next ten years

#Still haven’t decided if I want to make it a burrich/chivalry/patience fic #maybe I’ll just write a one shot for that this one was mostly supposed to be mostly canon compliant #we’ll see idk #sarah reads rote #rote #this is why I usually only write oneshots I don’t have the dedication for the long haul #but I’m determined so #it will get finished eventually

19 notes · View notes

owtenen · 1 year

Text

When a Ranch Becomes a Home (pt 1???)

Tango, despite his best effort, dies. Unfortunately, he has a lot more than just death to deal with after.

read my stuff of AO3!

CW: Depictions of anxiety, minor panic attacks, and tango gets blown up.

————

Tango was just thankful this game happened during the summer.

His body was still cold, and when the wind picked up, he felt the fire on his head fight for its life to stay alive. But all in all, it was better than last time. The cold winter air and stormy rainy nights made it almost impossible for the blaze born to function properly, but this time it was different.

He felt good. He had armor, he had food, he joked with his friends and made some new ones. But behind all of the it, there was a little nagging thing in the back of his mind.

It took Tango a while to realize it was anxiety.

He didn't really get anxiety, which is probably why he didn't realize it at first. He was a man on practicality, a man of smarts. He knew he could talk himself out of any anxiety he found himself clouded in, so he had never really felt the hollowness in his stomach like he did now, or the way his heart jumped when he thought about it.

It was faint though, like it wasn't really there at all. That is, of course, when Tango realized it actually wasn't there. That is was his soulmates. Whoever his soulmate was was really stressing out, and only when Tango realized it did it start to actually effect him. Like when he was talking to Bdubs and Impulse, he had to stop for a moment to breath, his soulmate had fallen off something and it hurt his ankles, but the pain in his stomach from the anxiety his soulmate felt was somehow worse. He needed to find them, whoever they were.

It got worse as he was going deeper in the cave, it started creeping into his own thoughts as well. Maybe his soulmate had a reason for being this anxious, maybe they were in trouble. Maybe he was in trouble.

An arrow shot right through his arm, and it took a minute for Tango to register the pain. He turned around quick, but there were too many monsters coming after him to process what was happening. He swung his sword with one hand, making sure to step back with each swing. He was getting through them one by one, if he just brought them to a choke point-

That's when the creeper dropped, and thats when everything went black.

"Common..." Jimmy found that muttering under his breath as he scaled the mountain to actually be quite helpful. His arms and legs hurt like hell though, and he was having a difficult time breathing.

He felt a shattering pain rip through his left arm, but he just shook it out and continued to climb, "Don't. Even. Think about it." Finally, he got to the top, and he looked out over the sky as he tried to catch his breath.

He felt another jab in his side, and then he felt a sharp snap in his ankle. He winced and clutched his stomach, the random bursts of pain were not helping his anxiety.

He would not be a burden to his soulmate. He would not damn them the way he had already damned himself.

He felt a few more jabs in various places around his body, and as he was thinking what on earth his soulmate was doing, he felt a searing pain ripple up his back, and he fell to the ground to die.

He wakes up sweating, he didn't think he was sweating before, but he certainly was now. Sitting up from the grass, he pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, his breath coming in short, uneven huffs that made him feel like he wanted to throw up. The place on his back that hurt the most was pulsing, and he felt paralyzed.

Suddenly, he heard a tree branch crack, and a voice coming from above. Was it God? Was it Them? No. Jimmy shook his head to clear the fog that clouded his brain, looking up to see what was happening.

He saw a man in the trees. Well, calling him a man was maybe a stretch. He had seen him around. Tango if he remembered correctly. He was the blaze born that hung out with Impulse and Etho. Redstoner maybe? Wasn't this the guy with cows in the first game? Jimmy's head started throbbing along with his back, he tried to ignore it.

"Oh no...." He heard the man mutter under his breath. The flames in his hair were big and wild, and yet they didn't set the tree on fire when they jumped up to meet the bark.

"What happened, Tango?" His voice was tough, and he fliched at his tone. When he looked up, he noticed that Tango did too.

"I'm- I'm so sorry." Tango leaned over and put his head between his knees, his legs dangling off the branch. "I'm so sorry."

Jimmy took a deep breath, and then another, "What happened?" His voice was softer then, and he was satified.

Tango sniffed, and ran a hand through his flaming hair, "I was caving, and there were about 500 mobs coming at me from one side and while I was worrying about them-" He looked up, and the two soulmates made eye contact for the first time. Jimmy smiled, maybe it would ease Tango's mind. It must have, because the man in the tree paused to give Jimmy a small smile of his own, "You know, the old creeper-from-behind trick."

Jimmy nodded, looking around spawn where just a few hours ago, was filled with everyone. He realized with a jolt that he was yellow, the first yellow. He quickly took out his communicator and read the chat, every joke and taunt making the hole in his stomach grow bigger and bigger.

Jimmy's anxiety was just getting worse. Tango watched in silence as he watched his soulmate read the comms messages about their death. He wasn't completely oblivious, he knew the jokes that were said about him.

Cursed. Stupid. Careless. Jimmy's friends would always say they were taunting him in good fun, but Tango never felt comfortable enough to go along with it.

"Jimmy, right?" Tango hopped down a couple branches before landing on the ground, his back was still stinging, and he didn't need broken ankles on top of that.

He watched Jimmy come out of a trance in real time, his eyes going from little glossy things to wide alert oceans. “What?”

Tango shook his head and held out his hand, “I’m Tango….” after a pause, he awkwardly added, “of the Tek variety.”

Jimmy, despite it all, chuckled softly. “I’m Jimmy.” He thought for a moment, and Tango could see the gears turning behind his eyes, “of the…. Solidarity variety?” He shook his head in disapproval. “Doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

“Good enough for me.”

Jimmy smiled, and Tango felt the anxiety lift just a bit. Until it came crashing down again, and Jimmy ripped his hand away from Tango to run it over his hair. “I have no idea where I was.” He looked back at Tango, and his wide eyes were filled with worry, “All my stuff is gone.”

Tango sighed, “Yeah. I have no idea where my stuff is either.” He thought for a moment, watching Jimmy as he began to pace around the top of the hill. He wanted to shake him, tell him to breathe and calm down.

Instead, he started picking up sticks, “Let’s make a chest here, then we can go find out stuff and meet back up.”

Jimmy turned and watched Tango, his arms were crossed and one of his hands was up near his face, and Tango raised an eyebrow while he watched Jimmy bite on his fingernail.

Tango sighed, “I’m really sorry for killing us. It’s one thing for me to explodificate myself but I didn’t want to take you down with me.”

Tango saw Jimmy smile behind his hand, and the tightening of his chest had nothing to do with the anxiety, “Explodificate?”

Tango smiled and threw some materials at Jimmy. He didn’t catch it. “Common, let’s go hide our bits in a tree.”

This time Jimmy’s head tilted back in laughter, and Tango wanted to bottle up the sound.

The anxiety didn’t come back as strong after that, and Tango was happy for it to stay that way.

————

i should be working on Problem of Etho and my other 24lsmp fics and yet here i am writing about a dead ship from a 10 month old smp …. oops?

#my writing #life series #double life #rancher duo #jimmy solidarity #tangotek #tango #solidaritygaming #traffic shipping #yeah they will eventually kiss your honor #is it bad to start a whole new fic while procrastinating on the final chapter of my other one? probably #i cant help it #also yea i know double life is long gone but tbh limited life is #in MY OPINION #not as inspiring as double life #like idk i can’t seem to write anything about limited life but maybe that’s just because i only really write ship fics #and limited life is giving off more family dynamics than is really necessary #also it’s not finished #i’m sure after the end i’ll find something to write about #i’ve written this so fast and i’ve been working on 3 desperate 24lsmp fics to stop myself from getting writers block #and yet there’s no writers block for RANCHERS #maybe they just are everything to me

54 notes · View notes