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an-entity-i-think · 2 years

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When the door opens, a lot of thoughts rush through Tim's head at lightning speed. If any telepaths were near, he's sure his mind would have given them mental whiplash because he felt like he was going Mach 20 from what the fuck to a very natural oh my god Bruce is going to fuck this up and ending up at I know exactly what to do in about five seconds.

A haughty looking Prince watched them with a straight spine and a scowl on his lips as he stood- proudly, happily, next to Talia Al Ghul who looks just as royal and proud beside him.

"I thought you'd be taller, Father."

If anything was different- anything at all, he's sure this scenario would have gone wrong.

Had Tim been any less prepared then he was anyways.

Because Tim is not oblivious to the fact that as Bruce has already allowed three children into his life in the past- it would make sense that Bruce would follow the trend and collect more as time went on.

Tim is prepared. He lived alone for the first thirteen years of his life wishing for a younger sibling to watch over and he has made plans for every scenario that he could possibly conceive.

His plans got even more convoluted as he joined the Wayne family and he promised himself that his relationship with his successor would be the best in the family because he wants to win at being a big brother.

He has been training for this his entire life.

So when Bruce- oh poor emotionally constipated Bruce who deflects big emotions with anger -looks at Talia with fire in his eyes at what Tim is sure is a valid anger about having a very clearly his child hidden from him for a decade opens his mouth, Tim does the smart thing and slaps his hand over Bruce's mouth without any hesitation or care.

Talia lifts an eyebrow in amusement as the young Prince's eyes widen fractionally in surprise.

Bruce goes back to being a still life painting in real life as he looks at him intently.

Tim does not care and looks at him sweetly in a way he knows that Bruce knows means that he'll tranq him if he doesn't think about his words.

Batman was very out of it when Tim became Robin.

Tim read a parenting book and decided boundaries were very important in a caretaker situation.

(Yes, Tim considers himself the caretaker in this situation. He thinks it's funny.)

(Bruce did not find it funny after being tranqed for the fifth time, but he could never find all the tranqs.)

"Bruce. Isn't it so wonderful that Talia has created such a gift to the world? It's almost like welcoming a child with love is a much higher priority than whatever you were about to say."

Bruce's left hand twitches in such a subtle way that allows Tim, who knows his partner very well from the past few years, to know that Bruce was surprised.

Tim nods acceptingly before giving Bruce his ability to speak back, and smiling at their guests nicely and genuinely.

Nodding his head to each in greeting, "Ms. Talia, Prince. Please come in for some tea."

He pretends not to notice the barely there shuffle of the Prince's right foot wanting to hide behind his mother, nor does he linger on the vaguest tightening of Talia's hand on her son's shoulder as she glances around them casually.

She smiles at him, politely sharp. She actually reminds Tim of his own mother- weilding the twitch of her lips like it could cut deeper than any hidden dagger.

"That sounds lovely."

#tim drake #damian wayne #damian al ghul #talia al ghul #bruce wayne #timothy drake #good mom talia #robin!Tim #it was going to be actual story but uh i gave up lol #tim takes dames on a tour and gives him an elaborate explanation on anything he could possibly need to know #'this is Alfred. he is your grandfather.' 'isnt he just the butler?' 'No. he raised bruce and bruce sees him as his father.'#'his word is above all.' dames: *furiously takes notes*#'dick grayson is the eldest. he is very kind and he means it- do not see this as a weakness. his anger is only for the most dire of times'#'...is he scary?' 'Never to us. never to you'#'jason is our other brother. he was the second but he was betrayed by his birthgiver and died at no fault of his own. he was amazing'#tim: *points solemnly at a portrait of him in the hallway*#damian: *squinting and wondering why he looks like the braindead warrior that his mother was taking care of*...huh #batfam #tim and damian #i imagine tim at 14ish and dames at 8 #talia brought his 2 yrs before canon #love talia <3 #entity writes dc #entity writes

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queenlucythevaliant · 1 year

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Once, Always

(Edmund has an abundance of birthdays)

“I say,” murmured Edmund sleepily as the fire burned low. “When do you suppose it is here? I mean—what time of year? Do you think it’s the beginning of September, the same as it was in England?”

“Summer,” said Lucy. “Certainly summer.”

Peter agreed. “I think it must be Highgrass, if I had to guess. Perhaps later. Greenroof?”

“If it’s Greenroof, then Edmund gets another birthday,” Lucy sighed. “Eleven or twelve, Ed?”

“Neither,” put in Susan. “A thousand, if you’re going to rationalize it that way. Now everyone hush, please, and get some sleep.”

Edmund’s birthday was the fifteenth day of Greenroof by the Narnian reckoning. Greenroof, late summer, when all the leaves were dark and broad. Narnian summers were long, but Greenroof was the last and best of the summer months. Greenroof was hunts through the dense foliage, blackberries heavy with juice, lazy afternoons, bonfires, wild romps, and the pleasant kind of sweat. Edmund’s birthday celebrations were always held on Dancing Lawn in the old days: the sort of long, laughter-bright nights that summer was made for.

The second time Edmund celebrated his eleventh birthday, it was just past three months since he and his siblings had returned home from the country. Their house was glass-strewn and battered, but still standing when they arrived home. By August it was beginning to feel really safe again, but sometimes Edmund still woke in the night to find his mother standing silent in the doorway, drinking in the sight of her two sons returned to her.

The professor sent one of Ivy’s famous spice cakes for Edmund’s birthday. It arrived tied in red string, which made Lucy reminisce fondly about dear Mr. Tumnus. Edmund’s siblings pooled their allowances to buy him the new Nero Wolfe detective novel, and his mother gave him a new cap and an electric torch.

“How do you feel?” his mother asked over dinner.

“I don’t feel any older, if that’s what you mean,” he said. “Eleven feels just the same as ten did yesterday.”

All four of them missed their birthdays the first year in Narnia. Too much else was going on at the time, and none of them was quite sure when their birthdays were supposed to be besides. The measurement of time was a thoroughly tangled issue.

The Narnian year had four hundred days even, divided into fourteen months of inconsistent lengths. Furthermore, the kingdom had only known winter for the last hundred years. The Narnians themselves were still remembering how the calendar worked in a world where the seasons changed. They didn’t have the words yet to explain it to their sovereigns.

“Eustace,” said Edmund, “your journal is wrong.”

“Give me that,” Eustace scowled at once. “I know it’s wrong, but there’s no need to rub my face in it. Aren’t I trying to make up for how I was?”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. The month is wrong. You’ve got September written here, but time works differently in Narnia than it does in the Other Place. Haven’t you noticed that it’s summer, not autumn?”

“Oh.” Eustace shrugged. “I followed Occam’s Razor and assumed that the climate here was different rather than time itself.”

“Occam’s what?” This was Lucy.

“Occam’s Razor: the simplest solution to a problem is the most likely—never mind. Well, go on, what month is it?”

“Highgrass,” said Lucy.

“July,” said Edmund at the same moment. “More or less.”

They worked it all out one afternoon as the second spring of their reign was ending. Peter and Susan wrote out the English calendar on one stack of parchment while Edmund and Lucy sat down with the Narnian calendar and penciled in seasonal markers as best they could manage.

“The first crocuses came up right at the end of Cleardome, yes?”

“Yes, I think so. And the snowdrops were in their full glory that month too.”

“How do you want to deal with leap year?”

“Just forget about it. Narnia doesn’t have anything similar, so I think twenty-eight days for February is fine for our purposes.”

“Magnolia in Laceveil, yes?”

“Laceveil is a good marker in general. We ought to set that as May and go from there.”

Birthdays were guesses, no matter how much counting they did. Yet as memories of England receded and Narnia’s world blossomed into everything they knew, those guesses solidified into fact. Edmund turned eleven for the first time on the fifteenth day of Greenroof. He was the first of his siblings to celebrate a proper birthday in Narnia.

The fourth time Edmund turned twelve, he received another electric torch to replace the one he’d lost. He laughed for half a minute, holding that gift in his hand.

“Really, you should have expected it,” said Susan primly.

"I did."

Their mother tsked and added something about keeping track of one’s belongings, but that was alright. His siblings understood.

Edmund flicked on the light and watched the beam land on the far wall across the living room. Bright at the edges and dark towards the center where the bulb was. He moved his wrist sideways and watched the spot of light follow.

Edmund might have forgotten about his birthday aboard the Dawn Treader if Lucy hadn’t remembered. She conspired with the cook to have a spread of Edmund’s favorite foods at supper (such as could be managed at sea) and coerced Rynelf into playing jigs on his fiddle afterwards. While they were dancing, Caspian called for a cask of his best wine, and soon the ship’s whole company was making merry like only Narnians could.

“Didn’t you have a twelfth birthday the last time you were in Narnia?” Caspian asked curiously as the party was dying down.

“Yes,” Edmund replied, “and the time before that too. Confused yet?”

“Ed has all the luck,” Lucy pouted playfully. “We always seem to return to Narnia in the summer, so he gets all the extra birthdays.”

Caspian's face lit up. “How extraordinary! When’s yours then?”

“Cleardome. There’s a year and a half between Ed and me, and he never lets me forget it.”

“It’s really not as exciting as all that,” Edmund added. “We’re not living our lives backwards, or unstuck in time, or any such nonsense. It’s more like—our lives are folded in on themselves, you see? But never the same way twice.”

“I think it’s more like music than anything else,” Lucy said, a kind of fond wistfulness in her voice.

“Yes,” said Edmund. “I know what you mean.”

On the thirteenth of Greenroof, the Telmarines laid down their arms and surrendered to Old Narnia. The next day, messengers were sent forth across the land with news of the surrender and with terms for the Telmarines. Caspian’s coronation followed, and then Edmund woke and it was his birthday again.

Breakfast that morning was long and languid, for Peter and Susan knew that they must say farewell to Narnia, even if the younger ones did not. They lingered round the table with Caspian and Trumpkin and the rest, and presently Peter offered a toast.

“To my brother King Edmund, who is eleven and twelve and sixty-three and thirteen hundred years old today.”

Everyone raised their cups and repeated, “King Edmund.” Caspian nodded and added, “Long live the king,” with an almost ironic tilt to his head.

Naturally, Edmund nodded back. “And to you, King Caspian. Long may you reign.”

Another round of assent followed, and then Lucy cleared her throat. “But also,” she said, “To late summer and the rebirth of Our Narnia. And to the land, the sea, the hills, the trees, the sky, Cair Paravel-by-the-sea and Dancing Lawn and all the flowers that are still in bloom. And to the color green. To all of us here today, and to those who are gone. And to Aslan.”

“Here, here.”

There were tears in Susan’s eyes now. “Happy birthday,” she whispered, and squeezed Edmund’s hand tight. Edmund looked down at his plate, fiercely overcome with love for this place and these people. In a strict, chronological sense, it had been less than a month since his last birthday, but how did the saying go? Time was just a tangled string, or falling snow, or whatever else Aslan told it to be.

“Bother,” said Edmund, “I’ve left my new torch in Narnia.”

Everyone chuckled at this, but Susan said, “Wait a year. We’ll get you a new one for your next birthday.”

#Edmund has a late August birthday #which means that Lucy's must be early in the year if 'really there was only a year between them' holds #AND we still choose to go with the birth years from Jack's timeline #and idk i just really love the idea of the Pevensies repeating their birthdays and just kinda reflecting on it #not in an angsty 'adults in kids bodies' way (ugh)#but just in a sort of 'huh. what a neat opportunity to think about #who i am and who i've been and who i'm becoming' kind of way #that pulls out the growing up themes from the series and examines them #idk i hope that's what i've done here #this is a veeeeerrrrry loose re-write of a really old middle school piece about Lucy having multiple eleventh birthdays #it just makes more sense if it's Edmund given the setup with Prince Caspian #anyway #narnia #the traitor who mended #leah stories #pontifications and creations #working on crossposting to ao3 (hopefully w/i the hour)

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vampryoteuthis · 8 months

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The fact that you are a grown ass man yet you are repeatedly spewing garbage it is it is it is so fascinating it should be illegal for inherently dumb people to open their mouths because they add absolutely nothing to this world 21 yet you are an akira dickrider oh please I hope that ageing won’t make me deficient in the mind good lord I could not imagine having to live a life this.also I find it funny how you made it sound like I don’t enjoy ensemble stars stories at all even though I said nothing that would imply that I do not enjoy the stories for reasons that are NOT the plot and the the way the stories are written because a lot of them are dumb people shit written by a dumb as shit man who can’t write anything too complicated without messing up something horribly.

honestly if I was anything I’d be a nishioka maiko meatrider I like her writing more

#how much free time do you have this is kind of impressive dude….#what stories do you enjoy then and why? very curious #guy goes ‘I don’t like enstars writing’ and then gets mad people are assuming they don’t like enstars writing huh….#robin talks #ask #anonymous

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mifhortunach · 5 months

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from one of the dirties' dvd commentaries

#the dirties #kind of a weird guy ! love the minor silence immediately after matt says that it wouldve improved the film lol #&& jay jumping in with 'yeah id let you die for it' - they rly are made for eachother lmao #ppp #posts just 4 me :)#video #[theres an ntbts commentary where jay says that M gets like.. (iirc) 'frantic & crazy' when theyre filming & u rly do start to catch #*that vibe huh - think those 2 tracks & that opav story about him litch (secretly) daily sprinting to set are telling lmao].#lb #🌝

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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 3 months

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one more unfinished hxh thought that's been rotating in my brain for days: Gon's need to take accountability for things going wrong, even if they weren't his fault, and trying to "fix" them all by himself as a sort of penance to the point of reckless disregard for himself, and the way this perceived "failure" of himself to "measure up" or succeed in helping is the sole impetus for him becoming genuinely angry - also interesting when taken in contrast with Ging's notorious lack of accountability or responsibility. Gon simply takes on far too much, and it's one of the defining differences between them I think (as they are, for the most part, otherwise very similar)

#storyrambles #hxh #gon freecss #just an interesting and kind of sad observation about him. it's pretty core to his character and story #but i find it's really interesting when taken in contrast with ging. actually. it's probably more reminiscent of kite and mito huh?#which makes sense given that they're the ones with the strongest influence on him

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flowercrowngods · 11 months

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bard/knight snippet word vomit

“i have misstepped and trampled on your heart, and your life, and your… your pain so cruelly, my lord. steve.”

eddie falters, feeling the cold of the rain seep into his bones, but even the pouring stream is not enough to kill the fire within, this burning need for steve to know, the scalding sensation of those eyes trained so intensely on him.

“i have not the words to express the regret i am feeling, nor the guilt, at having wronged you so. i do not ask forgiveness, i— i can only hope that you believe me when i say that i am… deeply and endlessly sorry.“

eddie dares not ask for forgiveness. and he dares not hope to find it in lord harrington’s eyes that seem to soften just a fraction even as the rain intensifies and plasters the locks of his hair to his forehead. water drips from them to enticingly, all but inviting eddie to cradle his cheek so tenderly, and feel the wetness on his skin with a man who wandered deserts for weeks.

he dares not, not anymore. and yet the yearning in his heart still betrays him once more, making him want — for the real steve this time, not for the notion of grandeur and epic romance.

and it is more intense, thus, than the first time, leaving him with shaking hands and stuttering heart as the rain drenches them so thoroughly as though attempting to wash away their history and provide a fresh start.

and it grows in intensity when the lord swallows thickly before his eyes flicker down to eddie’s lips for just the fraction of a second. but it is a second that will cost him a lifetime, he knows, for eddie stops breathing now.

#steddie #bard/knight #and what if i make them kiss in the rain? what if i make this as dramatic as possible? what if i crank up the yearning because the bard #sees now. sees how pretty his love is. how beautiful he can be. how wonderful is smile and how kind his eyes.#when it's not just about the bravery and the imagine heroism he can weave stories around. when it's only about the man he wants to #weave his *life* around. you know?? what then huh? what about it? what if steve just keeps looking at eddie like that. doesnt look away #because *seeing* goes both ways when it's done right. when they have the chance to do it right #bard!eddie munson #knight!steve harrington

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