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crispyimagines17 · 3 years

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“Maria Bonita” - [ Timothée Chalamet | One Shot ]

Summary: We invite you to take a glimpse to the Chalamet’s house. A teenage parents who would do anything to protect, love and take care of their little one despite all the eyes of society.

Written by: Crispy Imagines.

Soundtrack: main theme

Notes: A promise is a promise ppl, after two years of waiting Maria Bonita is finally here. First of all I want to thank every single person who was asking for this masterpiece, I hope i don’t let you down. Feedback is always welcome and nothing, enjoy it cause y’all deserve it. Also, we attach several audios to make you feel part of the story, so contrast them just as a background sound.

Tags: @miss2001babe ; @lg-vangogh ; @expectodonuts ;

[1]

The creaking of the bed came to a halt as your two-year-old Maddox weigh crashes down the mattress; his tiny feet pressed on daddy’s back, sending a burst of chills down Timothée’s spine. Maddox hands traveled to mommy’s cheeks, pitching or stretching them as he let out a chuckle.

“Mommy?” he whines, kissing your cheeks softly “Mommy” he repeats, nuzzling his face on yours.

“What’s up champ?” Timothée speaks, his groggy voice echoing the room as he stretches his body.

“Daddy!” the little one leaves you and jumps all the way to Timothée.

“Good morning.”

“morning.” Maddox repeats.

You opened your eyes, and the first picture your eyes capture was little Maddox hugging tightly his daddy with a Woody on his right hand. When he saw you, you could see his eyes glowing and leaving daddy’s side just so he can be with you. Immediately you open your arms, letting his tiny weigh crash on yours as he looks at you with pure happiness.

“Hi mommy”

“Hi momma.” You hear Timothée’s voice as you rolled your eyes. He slowly approaches to you two, snugging and earning laughs from both of you. “How’s my family?”

“We’re fine. You need to get Maddox a shower bef-…”

“Noo…” the little kid as soon as he heard shower leaves the bed in such a hurry, leaving his favorite toy in bed. Both of you laughed.

“I’ll make some breakfast and I want you ready by the time I’ll call you.”

“Yes momma.” Timothée gets up from bed and before leaving the room he approaches to give you a tiny peck, then a kiss and later a passionate kiss; grabbing towels from the drawer.

“Come here little man, before I’ll catch you.” You could hear Maddox giggles all over the apartment and timmy’s footsteps running around.

…

“Come on bub, we’re late for school. Just put some damn clothes.” Timothée’s voice came out as desperation as Maddox was running in circles butt naked. He tried everything, baby shark song, let Woody shower with him and even doing some funny voices, but none of them work. He sighs, face palming as he listens to the little one singing “You’ve got a friend in me”.

“Love.” He speaks. “Can you help me with Maddox?”

“Sure, just watch the scramble eggs.” He sighs in relief, and lifting himself from the wet floor walking carefully. When he clashes glazes with his son, he mumbles him

“You’re going to get in big trouble, mommy is coming.” Maddox smile fades and the fear got in his eyes, so he quickly runs to his bedroom bringing the first piece of clothing he found.

…

“Dammit.” You whispered as you tried to adjust the child seat. Timothée was right behind you, holding Maddox; both of them watching you getting pissed.

“Let me try, love. Here, hold Maddox.” You sigh, extending your arms as little Maddox lunges towards you. You lay your head against his, as you rock yourself back and forth. “we’re ready.”

Today was going to be a long day due to your shift, leaving early sounds nice, but also means going to the grocery store, doing laundry, cleaning the house, teaching Maddox, do some paperwork. Although timothée helps you in every way he can there’s still more job to do, like you’re working nonstop all the year. As you drive towards Maddox daycare Timothées hands were on your thing, resting peacefully as he slowly reads some scripts.

“Shit” he mumbles, you looked at him with an arched eyebrow. He realizes his mistake and quickly covers his mouth and watches Maddox, who’s been gazing at the window without a clue of what happened. Timothée let out a sigh as he slowly began to read his duties when the little one laugh.

“Shet” Maddox said giggling as he smashes his toys. Both of you close your eyes in regret, he will now say the word to nonstop and the ladies from the daycare will complain, like always.

“Oh no.” you let out “Maddox, honey.”

“Wa mommy?”

“Remember when we said that kids shouldn’t say big words?” he nods. “You need to stop saying that, it’s rude and people will not like it.”

“Shet.” He repeats giggling.

“Love, say something to your child” you said looking at Timothée.

“Me? Why?”

“Cause you said the big word.” You insist.

“Why I’m always the bad guy…” he whispers as he take a breath. “Bub, what do we talk…”

“shet shet shet shet!” Maddox said out loud causing both parents to sigh.

“Well, we tried” Timothee said as you parked at the daycare.

[2]

Picking up Maddox from daycare was the heavy stuff of the day, receiving each and every day complaints from the teachers about his hyperactivity, molesting other kids or yelling in story time. Today was not the exception, despite the look of irritation from the teacher you were calm and hugging a tired Maddox rocking back and forth.

“Maddox is… a special kid. His behavior today concerned the other teachers due to the fact that the child said the word shit many times. That cause the other kids to follow him and my job here is to ask you, Is everything okay with your… boyfriend and you?” you arched your eyebrows surprised.

“Y-yeah, we’re fine, Maddox is like a sponge absorbs everything, including the bad stuff.” You chuckle nervously. She shakes her head.

“Kids at your age don’t know how to raise a child, it surprises me that you’re still together and with Maddox temper…” you were in shocked, does she tell you that? And in front of your kid? Oh, you’re so mad you’ve couldn’t hold your tongue.

“Believe me that my kid is surrounded by love and emotional stability lady, you have no right to judge me or my husband. We’ve been swallowing some bullshit since I was pregnant, but I will not tolerate to insult me in front of my kid. So, fuck yourself and your stupid business.” You raised your middle finger and walk towards the exit without looking back.

After you put Maddox in his chair, he looked at you in a lovely way, touching both of your cheeks and smiling.

“Love you mommy.” Your eyes watered as you kiss him on his forehead.

“Love you too.”

…

Going to the grocery store was Maddox favorite thing; the thrill of daddy pushing the car so fast; when mommy buys his favorite cereal and the music that always calms him. So when you said your next destination a chorus of happiness filled the entire car.

“Okay, we’re supposed to get the basic. Love, get a car and I’ll see you on the aisle 2.” You grab Maddox hand but he didn’t walk. “What happened?”

“Daddy.” He points with his little finger towards Timothée direction.

“Daddy will come soon. Come on, let’s go.” But Maddox stayed, making his little body heavier so you couldn’t walk.

“Daddy.” He repeats.

“Love he will come back, let’s go.” You tried once more, but he let himself fall on the floor, starting a tantrum that led all the eyes of the store on you two. You smiled awkwardly picking up Maddox as you tried your best to avoid the judge of the people’s eyes, walking down the first hall as you let him down with tearful eyes.

“Maddox, honey, you need to listen to me.” You cup his cheeks in an attempt to catch his attention. After he saw you his concern became evident.

“wa hapen?”

“Here you are, I thought you said aisle 2.” After he saw your eyes, his smile faded and he kneels with you two. “What’s wrong, baby?” you shake your head.

“Nothing, I just-“ you immediately tried to recover yourself and got up wiping your eyes. “We need to hurry up, we still have to make dinner.” You grab the car. “Love, please take Maddox with you.”

And so were you grabbing everything you need and both of your boys were trying hard to cheer you up by singing or listening to Timothee saying stuff like “Mom looks pretty today, isn’t she?” “We’ll make dinner so you can take a rest”

You were in line ready to pay and behind you there was a nice lady pampering Maddox. Timothee smile to her.

“Taking care of the little brother, huh.” She said waving at him. “what a handsome man.” You both look at each other without saying anything. It was normal that many people believed one of you was babysitting a younger sibling or a cousin so you didn’t bother to correct the lady.

“Mommy sleep.” Maddox said, looking at you with tired eyes. Your eyes immediately watch the lady who was quite skeptical. “Mommy.”

“Oh” she only said. Your eyes travel to her, you’ve could see her disappointment on her face, it was something you’ve got used to it. You tried to recover yourself, this was too much for one day and it hasn’t ended yet.

“Love, can you pay? I’ll have to take some air.” Timothee’s eyes were concerned.

“Sure love, here, take the keys. Maddox will stay with me.” You grab the keys and exit the store as soon as you can, fighting hard to keep the tears from falling.

When you get into your car you let yourself go, tears streaming down your face and allowing yourself to feel this way.

The migraine you’ve been dealing with was in its best moment, due to Maddox screams and the tv in all the volume it has. Timothee was in the bedroom with a script; he left you with all the toys, crayons and food on the floor. You sigh, frustrated and just when you were calming yourself you saw Maddox torn one of Timothee’s scripts and laughing. Timothee was behind him with a red face, taking him the pieces of paper to look directly at you.

“Seriously? Are you not watching this kid?” after those words your blood began to boil, throwing him the nearest object.

“Are you fucking serious? I fucking make dinner because you “innocently” forgot, I’m doing laundry so you can go to your fucking auditions clean; I’m washing dishes cause you’re so busy reading your stupid scripts and you can’t watch Maddox. And you’re implicating that it’s my fault that I don’t watch our kid? Unbelievable.” You said furious. “I don’t fucking have a break, I work my 8hr shift, pick up Maddox; do all the chores; helping Maddox with his homework; shower him, giving him dinner; make us dinner; shower myself if I have time; and checking some paperwork. You’re… You’re just auditioning, promising that one day we’ll be in a mansion and lived happily ever after, you do not do anything unless I asked you for.” He was shocked, avoiding all eye contact with you.

“I-I don’t know what to say.” You sigh, leaving the kitchen, taking one of your coats and leaving the apartment.

…

You could hear Timothee’s footsteps behind you, but you just keep on walking, breathing deeply so you can’t say something you regret.

“Wait, love.” He tried to grab you softly by the arm.

“So now I’m your love, huh?” you rolled your eyes, stopping yourself to look him in the eye.

“You’ve always been my love. Sorry for behaving like an asshole. You were right, I’m a completely shitty father. I leave you with all the heavy duty while I focus on a stupid dream.” You could see the sadness of his face, eyes beginning to water. Immediately you cupped his cheeks and touched your forehead with his, staying in silence for a couple of seconds.

“You know I’m the biggest supporter of your dream.” You said in a whisper. “But you have to be a responsible father and husband. We are a team; we’re supposed to help each other in every way we can. I’m not asking to give up on what you are passionate about.” you sweetly pressed your lips against his.

“I love you.” He said, with eyes pure of love that your stomach curled up.

“I love you too, handsome.” You stayed hug for a while, while you feel like there was something missing. It was Maddox!

“Oh my god… where’s the kid?” you lift the head to catch his eyes.

“I left it with Maddie, I think we should pick him up before she calls us.” You nod.

An so where you, walking back home holding hands having the warm sensation that everything from now on will be just fine.

[Soundrack] [3]

The sound of nature calms both of your boys, you suggest to travel to the nearest park to set up some wood fire. And now you are carrying Maddox tired body, the little one is closing his eyes so often, and it will not take too long for him to sleep; since he’s got his thump already in his mouth. Timothée was watching the stars, with a sad tone on his face he said:

“Sometimes I forget that I’m a dad. When they invite at some restaurant for brief seconds I forget that I’m someone’s dad, that I change diapers or fed him. And that feels weird, not good weird, like something is missing. I’ll never going to regret being a father at my age, I will have a long way to watch him grow and become anything he wants; and somehow that makes me happy.”

“I don’t regret either. I feel that this kid connects us in beautiful ways; we are his mentors to teach him the good and bad. I think we’re more than ready to take the challenge.”

“I love you. And I’m so happy I chose you to be the mother of my child, even if that means by accident.” You couldn´t help but laugh.

“I love you too. Come on, let’s go to our house.”

“At least let us heard one more song before we go.” Timothee got up shaking the dirt from his pants, he went to the car and shuffle a couple of songs before he found out the one. “This one will work. Let me get Maddox on the car.”

After he let the baby he slowly approaches to you, touching his forehead with yours, rocking back and forth as Maria Bonita was playing on the back.

“Even if this song is made for a Maria. In this park, at midnight with the stars and moon as witnesses you’re my Maria Bonita. The one I will always be in love, beyond my body and soul. I’m all yours baby. Just say the word and we will go to the nearest chapel.” You smile.

“Yes.” You whispered on his lips

“Promised me that you don’t lie just because you feel idolized.” You kissed him. “I love you Mrs. Chalamet. Let the world know I Love this woman.” You shake your head, chuckling, the song ended and to seal the promise he kissed you passionately taking from his coat a jewelry box; knealing.

“Will you marry me?”

#Timothee Chalamet #timothee chalamet imagine #timothée chalamet #timothée chamalet #timothée chalamet imagine #timmy tim #timmy chalamet #timmy x reader #timmy blurbs #armie x timmy #Call Me By Your Name #cmbyn #CMBYN MOVIE #ladybird #Beautiful Boy

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minsugapie · 4 years

Text

Mary’s Song: part 12a (2063 words) - I liked you

• • • • • •

Jeon Jungkook wasn’t just your anime-loving, manga-drawing, hair-pulling, ex-neighbour. You hadn’t even spoken to him since he had moved away. But the world worked in funny ways because...

He was probably the reason you were still alive.

• • • • • •

“And our daddies used to joke about the two of us

Growing up and fallin' in love

And our mamas smiled, and rolled their eyes

And said, "Oh, my, my, my””

• • • • • •

previous // current \\ next

masterlist

• • • • • •

Tags : @minhyuksfatgf @igotarmyofarohas @dixonsbugaboo @thealexalcala @salty-for-suga @worshiphoseok @okaysoplshelpme @jeonlovers @acupfullofsuga @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @hannahdinse8 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @dammit-jjk @dreamcatcherjiah @xxxanimangxxx @wrmnssoul

• • • • • •

i was feeling fluffy i guess...

• • • • • •

“I think it’s great that you finally told your mom about what’s happening,” Jungkook said as he walked into the bathroom. You were currently inside, brushing your teeth.

You make eye contact with him through the mirror, trying to smile through the toothpaste covering your lips and the toothbrush sticking out of your mouth.

He grabbed his toothbrush from out of the cup and started brushing his own teeth. You hadn’t stopped looking at him as he did this, completely forgetting what you were in the bathroom for. You didn’t realize you had been staring at him until he bumps you with his shoulder, meeting your eyes through the mirror once again. You quickly finished, finally breaking eye contact.

“I’m going to take the couch tonight…you can have the bed,” you meekly said, ducking your head as you walked through the door. You were glad he didn’t say anything or argue with you.

Being around Jungkook still made you nervous, and you always felt embarrassed around him and even more so now that your mom revealed that he’s essentially broken your heart. It wasn’t something you’d ever wanted him to know. You actually didn’t even let him finis brushing his teeth before you walked down the hall and back to his room to grab your pillow and the blanket that Jungkook had been using on the couch.

Jimin and Taehyung were still both at the studio, finishing up the album, since Yoongi had to leave quickly the other day without giving a reason why. But they were all friends and the album was ahead of schedule, so it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Settling onto the couch, it was quiet. You wondered if Jungkook was going to walk to the kitchen to get his nightly glass of water, but you must have been tired because you fell asleep. Whether he got that water or not, you’d never know.

You thought something felt off when you went to bed that night…and it wasn’t just because you took the couch. It wasn’t like you were exactly the most sound sleeper to begin with, but this was just something that made it even harder.

In the time you’d been there, you’d woken yourself up with a scream twice, but there was something new about the nightmare that you had that night. The scream this time was worse than it had ever been before. It was louder, and it took longer for you to wake up from it. You were stuck in your imagination.

It was awful and actually just a stupid, stupid dream. You were laying on the ground, helpless, while Nic was a dementor from Harry Potter that was sucking out your soul—which is essentially what had been happening in your relationship with him.

In fact, the only reason you awoke was because Jungkook shook you awake, for a while. “Y/N! Y/N! Wake up!”

There were tears streaming down your face when you opened your eyes to a very concerned looking Jungkook. He was quick to wipe the tears from your cheeks and comfort you in any way that he could. “So you want to talk about it?” He whispered, helping you sit up.

You shook your head with a sniffle, letting the comfort from Jungkook wash over you.

“Do you want to take the bed? I can sleep on the couch again. You seem to sleep better in the room…” What Jungkook didn’t realize was the fact that the room was so much like him and was full of his smell, so it automatically comforted you. Jungkook, regardless of what he did to you in high school, used to be your knight in shining armour. Yeah, he used to tease you and pull your hair, but at the end of the day, he had your back. And you still had his back even after how he treated you.

“I’ll take the bed…but will you stay with me, Bun?” You asked, getting up and grabbing his wrists to bring him with you. “…at least until I fall back asleep?”

Jungkook didn’t exactly answer, but he let you drag him towards the bedroom anyways. Quickly, he asked himself, “I wonder when Tae and Chim are coming home? That would have been some scream for them to hear…”

When you settled under the covers, you waited for him to lay beside you. You took the side that you had slept on before. Jungkook stared at you for a few seconds before he hesitated to get under the covers as well. He was rigid as a board laying beside you until you told him to relax. “Bun, we used to take baths together for Christ’s sake…I think you can loosen up a little.” You could have taken your own advice while brushing your teeth earlier.

He turned his head to looked at you, before he looked at the ceiling again. “It’s different this time because I should tell you some things, but I’m not sure if it’s exactly the right time for it…” He admitted. You looked at him with a curious expression. You should have been trying to fall back asleep, but you were wide awake now, nightmare of Nic leaving your mind completely.

Jungkook finally turned towards you, letting his body relax. You were both laying on your sides, facing each other.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I need to tell you why I was an asshole to you back in high school. Otherwise, I’m going to go crazy.”

You scrunched up your eyebrows at what he said. You didn’t need him to explain himself after all these years. You were both adults, and you were sure that he was just annoyed that you’d been following him around for years.

“No. Don’t look at me like that, Honey. This is something that I need to get off my chest. You should be me at me because you did nothing wrong. Listen, I can’t believe I’m admitting this to you, but I consider you my first love…the one that got away.”

You were surprised at what he admitted. You never once expected him to say that…especially because that was exactly who he was to you.

Continuing, he closed his eyes but grabbed your hand under the covers, “I was a jerk because when you got into high school, you stopped paying attention to me. I thought that it was something that I wanted. Hell, I even prayed for you to leave me alone! But when you finally did, I wasn’t happy. You were always mature for your age, and when all the girls around you were giving all of us older boys attention, you kept your distance. You didn’t even notice that boys were paying attention to you either. It started to become obvious to everyone that I wanted your attention, and the only way that I could get you to react to me in any way was to be mean and make you pay attention to me that way. Obviously, I liked you.”

Your mouth fell open about halfway through his speech. How were you supposed to respond to something like that? What you’d wanted to hear from him for your whole life, a confession, just happened, but it was past tense. And anyways, why were you even worried about it? Clearly relationships just weren’t for you. Nic and Jungkook proved that.

Jungkook bit his lip as he waited for some sort of reaction from you. When you failed to say anything and only continued to stare at him, he spoke again, “And since I’ve already shared so much, I might as well admit that I modelled the main character of my webtoon after you. I’d never payed attention to anyone as much as I did to you, so it was easy to draw her, my character I mean.”

You cracked a smile at that. Everything that he said to you was really flattering, especially the webtoon bit. “If I’m not mistaken, you used to draw me when we were little, too, but I was more of a typical manga-style character back then. I always believed in your dream to be an animator, you know. I was your biggest fan, Bun.”

“You’re not mad?” He subconsciously scooted closer to you as he asked this. You noticed, however.

“I’m not mad. If there’s any man in the world I should be mad at, I think we know who it is.” There was not one inch of your body that still liked Nic. His face, although conventionally attractive, was ugly. You couldn’t even believe that you’d loved him. You’d fallen out of love a while back. It was even before you first started your escape plan. So, the slight increase in your heartbeat from Jungkook was not exactly unexpected, although it definitely was currently unwanted.

“Well, I’m glad you found me again, Honey. Although, it fucking sucks that it had to be in this type of situation.”

His eyes were closed again, but they shot open you grabbed his hand and placed it on your head.You looked at him with the cutest face you could muster.

“Are you going to try to sleep again?” He asked, starting to play with your hair. It was exactly what you’d wanted when placing his hand there.

You took a deep breath, yawning in the process. “Yeah.”

“You don’t want me to sing?”

With a small smile, you replied, “Can’t you play with my hair and sing?”

He scoffed. “You’re lucky I still feel kind of guilty. Now close your eyes and listen.”

• • • • • •

Jimin was waiting behind Taehyung as he unlocked the door to the apartment at 3:30 in the morning. They’d been at the studio all night, but the album was finally complete. It felt amazing, but they were all in need of sleep. Yoongi was groaning for the last couple hours about getting back to Cherry and Jimin just couldn’t take it. He could handle lovey-dovey couples, but they were a lot to handle sometimes. He wasn’t an idiot—he knew that Yoongi had left the other day to go to her. Jimin loved Cherry, he really did, but all this stress about the album was making him bitter. He hadn’t had a girlfriend in years, and he hadn’t gotten laid in months.

It was nice having at least one friend that was single, but even Jungkook was starting to get closer to you, who was his childhood “unrequited” love.

“Yah…It’s good to be home,” Taehyung said a little too loudly, cringing at himself before walking into his bedroom. He’s gotten the master bedroom when Yoongi moved out, and it had its own bathroom. Lucky fuck.

Jimin closed the front door and immediately went to the living room to see who was on the cough tonight. He was surprised to find it empty. Maybe one of you was in the bathroom?

But when he walked to the bathroom, the lights were off.

Did Jungkook send you off to Cherry’s again? It was almost a waste because he just ended up singing to you over the phone to get her to fall asleep anyways. Speaking of that, literally none of them knew that he knew how to sing. Jimin was still shook.

Walking past Jungkook’s room to get to his own, he had to backtrack when he passed the door because he could have sworn that he’d seen two people in the bed. He wasn’t wrong. There were, in fact, two people in the bed, but they were only taking up about as much space as one person needed.

Jimin had to take a picture of them. Jungkook had you wrapped in his arms, fingers softly resting between strands of her hair. Judging by the nearness, Jimin assumed that your legs were tangled together. Your head was cradled into his chest, hands tightly tucked between your bodies.

It was cute, he had to admit—especially for two people who hadn’t seen each other in years. What really set him off was the fact that Jungkook’s lips were almost pressed against your forehead, brushing your skin with every breath he took.

Jungkook didn’t want to admit it, but he had it bad for you...even now. Jimin wondered if maybe the reason he’d never dated anyone before was because he’d still been hung-up on the girl currently in his arms…

On a completely separate note, he’d sure be using this photo for personal gain in the future.

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achieveandhunt · 4 years

Text

live typing extra life 2019

part 2

warning: this was a mistake and i’m in the grapes

this starts right at Facilities vs AH. link to first post

let’s fuck some shit up babEY

oh what the fuck they’re playing a prerecorded video

last year was a fuckin doozy, nobody forget that

“legends of the under achiever” i didn’t know someone wrote my biography

why do i hear geoff screaming “FIVE FUCKIN FOUR” in my head, like in the legends of the hidden temple minecraft videos

jeremy looks. so dead inside on this fine november evening

ryan buzzing while they’re trying to explain the rules

my video quality went down so much that i thought i was watching someone playing roblox for a second

ryan “salty mother fucker” haywood has made a lovely appearance. he’s my favorite

michael and lindsay looking so domestic makes me so happy,, they’re my parents

someone donated under the name “ryan goes feral” uh??? yeah? you say that like it’s a bad thing??

oH FUCK MICHAEL GO DRIVE WIN PLEASE

jeremy HAS BROKEN OUT THE GLASSES SHIT’S SERIOUS

NO THEY’RE LOSING GOD DAMMIT

ʳʸᵃⁿ ᶦⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏᵍʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ, ᵠᵘᶦᵉᵗˡʸ: ʰᵉˡᵖ

JEREMY IT’S TIME TO TEST OUT THAT NONEXISTENT GAG REFLEX AND SWALLOW THE OPPONENT’S CONTROLLER

oh nvm they’re winning again lmao

OH FUCK thEYRE LOSING

oh nvm

OH FUCK

oh nvm they unplugged his contoller lol

OH FUCKING TH EY LOST MICHAEL JONES MY HEART IS BROKEN

the amount of people watching has gone up from 32k to 40k in the past fifteen minutes

michael “hurry up you dumb cunts” jones

“oh don’t worry about destroying our cabinet, it’s essentially matchsticks”

“how are you feeling john? are you ready for this?” “MM M M Mmm mM”

TEAM NICE DYNAMITE IS NEXT AND IM READY FOR PERMANENTLY RINGING EARS FROM ALL THE LEET DONATIONS

oH god here we go

“hopefully they haven’t been saving them all day” oh honey. you’ve got a big storm coming

if xavier slaps gavin i think gav might go up in a puff of smoke

i did the math, they went up 45k+ within five minutes of team nice dynamite showing up on stream

GAVIN AND MICHAEL ARE GOING TO DIE

THERE’S GONNA BE A MOONBALL SIZED HOLE IN GAVIN’S CHEST

ryan and lindsay both donating a grand during this segment... so good

the day gavin free successfully gets a tattoo is the day i drop dead

lindsay saying she didn’t want the TND tattoo on michael but she agreed because gav is michael’s boi :(((

i’m too sleep deprived for this i might cry

oh god michael’s punching the floor

i’m too sober for this

EIGHTY EIGHT LEET DONATIONS IN TWENTY MINUTES HOLY FUCJKIGN SHIT YOU GUYS ARE GONNA BE THROWING MOONBALLS FOR FUCKIN SIX YEARS

on a sentimental note- i love how much collective love we have for gav and michael,, they deserve it all

milk boarded has some not-so-great connotations attached to it

gavin “the bullshit bitch” free

a mark nutt reference?? in my 2019 extra life????

this just in: sarah is going to obliterate gavin

oh. oh my god. that was the sound of a wet fish smacking a wall

why is jeremy the liquor goblin walking like a crab that has a bird attached to its back??? see: flapping arms

that beer and milk concoction... gag

“drink that milk yard”

“YOU GOT MY TOES MILKY”

no. nO MICHAEL NO YOUR INTESTINES NOO

michael “the milk’s in my brain” jones

“stop pouring it on people!” “iT’S HARD DICKHEAD”

lindsay is now. taking a milk shower

*caiti brings a small roll of paper towels* *gavin gently places a single paper towel on the massive puddle of milk*

no LINDSAY NO THINK OF THE CHILDREN

gavin: this has gotten way out of hand. she’s... she’s swimming in an inch of milk! everyone knows you should swim in at least two!!

the fajita seasoning will solve everythinG everyone calm down

fiona: yeah this is my first extra life. jack: and what were you expecting? fiona: this. exactly this.

ah yes. the bunny suits have arrived and michael is ready to tackle gavin

aaaand here comes the AH fanfic. it can only get worse from here so buckle up fuckos

“holy fuckeroni”

“re-reanimated trevor”

michael is so fucking smashed and god i wish that was me

“cum-ductor”

fiona “this is a white man” nova

“bone-ating” *leet donation* *leet donation*

“ready set blow” made me genuinely bust a lung laughing

aaaand michael’s licking the floor which is to be expected

jeremy “i’m gonna actually harm you” dooley

IF ONE MORE PERSON BRINGS UP RANCH IM GOING TO WALK TO AUSTIN AND PROJECTILE VOMIT ON THE OFF TOPIC SET

no JEREMY NO YOU WERE THE CHOSEN ONE I THOUGHT YOU WOULDN’T DO THIS GET OFF THE F L O O R

don’t get close ups on jeremy’s tongue. don’t do that to me. i don’t want nightmares

“fuck root” “let’s just fucking fuck”

1 2 3 CONSENT

michael has gone full gerkie

alfredo’s look when larry is reading the part about trevor choking him is how i feel about everything that’s happened in the past twenty minutes

almost 300k in less than an hour

fiona saying “i don’t want this” overlaying michael humping a trash can

“TAKE THE TACO CHAD”

aaaand michael’s in the trash can

nO why is there a triangle is this a POETRY READING ALL OF A SUDDEN

oh thank god it’s over

OH FUCK THERE’S A N EPILOGUE

aaand trevor’s dead again. poor treyco

DUSK BOYS DUSK BOYS DUSK BOYS EVERYONE PUT A CUP IN YOUR PANTS

people singing along... what goes on

why am i downloading this fuckin song asap

jeremy turning his phone flashlight on and waving it like he’s at a concert god dammit i love these people so much

those are my BOYS

oh my gosh they’re still singing the song. why is my heart so happy from this i need to get slapped

“come on you’ve never been waterboarded before gavin?”

everyone standing in a circle shining their flashlights at gavin

someone surprise them and instead of a moonball just yeet a whole gallon of milk at them

actually, on second thought, no

OH god GavIN Is GOING to Die

gavin “i forgot to breathe” free

several milk explosions

gavin “my brain is cold” free

michael has milk dripping from his ears

i’m about to pass out i don’t know what’s happening

michael is in the grapes right now man

how many moonballs? oh, only 107. :)

i’m not writing this part- you guys have to watch the moonball segment yourself, if you didn’t watch it live!

team nice dynamite finishes up with over 300k!! holy shit, that’s so cool! this community is awesome

werewolf is up next!

xavier is such a gentleman can we keep him

alfredo: *chooses to kill miles* trevor in the audience: *silently freaking out*

xavier is about ruin another man on stream

miles has no self preservation instinct

barbara is now smelling fiona

this just in: i love alfredo and 100% would have done the same thing

trevor running up to film alfredo getting smacked. what an icon

alfredo SCREAMING oh my god i felt it in my soul

the high-five of the backs in solidarity of intense pain

miles choosing alfredo is so fucking good

and also, i feel so bad

his heart might shoot out of his asshole this time guys

oh NOOO HE’s so bruised :(((( fredo nooo :((

oh my god it’s gotten to the usual point in the stream where you start to question whether someone is going to die this time

rip blaine but at least i think he can take the hit

he can but ouch it still hurts me

barbara “i’m participating in the game” dunkleman

yo miles might win this game

the crowd when someone needs to shoot barb: TREVOR TREVOR TREVOR! trevor, with the strength of a thousand suns: N O

people are now chanting about shooting an unprotected trevor. the man already died once this stream god dammit

alfredo is about to throw hands for fiona

that’s a big F in the chat for miles, but his loss is well deserved

xavier’s hands could serve as a defibrillator

alfredo showed jeremy his chest and jeremy shied away as if he was looking at the sun

--- i’m taking another break to finish an assignment---

i’m barely alive and it’s ready set show time

oh god please no more shock collars

i’m so fucking tiiiiredd please take thge res t of this post wigth a grain of salt lbecasue i can hardly type at this ponitn

“do you want to control the shock collars” “will there be repercussions” “no” “fuck yeah i’ll do it then”

“smother the children. steal the baby” “DONT STEAL THE BABY TREVOR”

lunging forward “s c a r e t h e b a b y” “OKAY I’M PASSING THIS ONE”

“you can’t bake popcorn????” jeremy hits the floor

alec and matt clearly = dream team

oh thasnk god the shock collars are on their arms now i was stressed out for chris earlier

this stream does not promote recreational nyquil usage

i don’t even know how to explain the pure insanity of what ready set show has become

alec has become this whole segment

i would write more but i have no thoughts because my brain doesn’t work

larry “makes people fuck other people besides their wife” insert last name that my brain can’t come up with

anyways. marbles

oh. no marbles

i’ve blacked out idk what happened during backwardz compatible

i mean i was awake but does that really mean anything at this point

SPPOKU PSOOKY SPPOKKKY SPOOOKY !!! FUCL YEAH

cole is so good during this segment

oh so many 1337s right away

the real scariest thing during the segment: being genuine

oH my god the scream being pitched up. i have fucking dogs outside of my house now

i don’t fuck w/ ghosts no thank you

“aba-jail” wow if u guys weren’t gonna get haunted before you will now

okay i’m about to pass out i have to take a nap

oH fucking I SLEPT until thirty minutes before the en d fuck

conclusion: this community is incredible and raised an unimaginable amount of money for charity. the fact that rooster teeth does this every year is awesome, and honestly, it makes me feel hopeful in times when things aren’t so great. so yeah! for the kids & stuff

#extra life 2019 #rooster teeth #geoff ramsey #jack pattillo #ryan haywood #michael jones #jeremy dooley #gavin free #lindsay jones #trevor collins #matt bragg #fiona nova #alfredo diaz

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stony-eyed-and-marvel-minded · 4 years

Text

A World Like That

Read on AO3

Summary: The trauma inflected on Pepper and Tony from Thanos has both of them suffering. One night, they just can't ignore the emotions eating them up. Prompt: from Imagine by Ariana Grande "Imagine a world like that"

Rating: T+, WC: 1281, CH: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 3 of Quarantine Quick Rights

Notes:

Wow, so uh, yeah this was really hard to write. Tonight I chose my prompt a little differently. Genna and I have playlists for some of our ships, so I generated a random song from our Pepperony playlist, and then generated a line and this is what I came up with. Again, I only had an hour to write this, but I'm happy with what I got out. I was really going through my emotions writing this. I truly see this happening canonically. Good luck, ye who enter here...or however that goes. (I'm fading fast ya'll).

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

The sun set hours ago, and Tony is still in his workshop tinkering away. Turning over in bed, Pepper huffs as she sees the clock blink out 5:00 AM. Tonight makes it a full week that Tony has stayed up through most of the night working instead of being a normal human, leaving Pepper to take care of Morgan in the mornings while juggling the crisis plans for a billion dollar company.

“God dammit Tony,” Pepper mutters as she pushes herself out of bed to shuffle down towards the dim glow of the workshop lights. She can hear the faint murmurings of Tony talking through whatever he’s working on, and the occasional clink of metal.

“Alright FRIDAY try this configuration, replace 2000 watts with 2750 watts and run it again.” Pepper can tell just from Tony’s voice that his brain is running a thousand miles an hour in every direction.

“Sure thing, boss. Do you want me to lower the compression as well?” FRIDAY’s eager to please voice chirps back.

“For now, no, but put up the shields in case of any blow back.” When Pepper reaches the door, a faint whirring begins, and she pushes through to see the workshop in chaos from Tony’s latest breakthrough in solving whatever new crisis he has conjured up.

Tony hasn’t noticed Pepper’s arrival, so she clears her throat. Nothing.

“Tony, do you have any idea what time it is?” Tony swivels around in his chair.

“Pep! Is it Tuesday morning already? You need me to put in the order for taco stuff for tonight?” Tony looks jittery and like he’s been put through the ringer all at the same time.

Pepper sighs, “Tony, Taco Tuesday was five days ago. It is 5:00 AM on a Sunday . What has kept you from coming to bed this time?” Pepper is rubbing her temples now, she can already feel a migraine coming on, and she knows it will only get worse.

“Huh, Sunday already?” Tony pauses when he notices the frustration edging Pepper’s face. “It’s nothing to worry about honey, I’ll be fine. I’ll come to bed in a little bit. Why don’t you get some more sleep?”

“Tony you have been saying that for the past week, and every morning, I have to come down here to drag you back to our room after you pass out during one of your little experiments. Now I know things have been really hard adjusting to everything that’s happened, but Tony if you don’t talk to me I can’t help you.” Pepper is trying — she really is — to keep herself from exploding with the built up anger from the past seven months of these episodes.

She’s let it go because she knows that the trauma Tony has gone through with Thanos is beyond anyone’s comprehension, but she feels as though she’s been raising their child with Tony only half there.

It’s now gotten to the point where she doesn’t think she can handle much more before she has a grade-A meltdown.

“I know, I know it looks bad. But really, I’m okay. Look, I will wrap up the project for tonight, and I will be up to bed in a little bit. I just have to finish this up—”

“Tony enough!” Pepper erupts, stunning Tony into silence. “What if you just stopped? What if you just accepted that things are not going back to the way they were, and actually joined your wife and daughter in the new reality? For christ’s sake Tony, you have a fucking daughter and you are barely there to see it!”

She’s screaming now, and her face is hot and most likely burning red, but it just feels so good to get it out, “What if you actually showed up for regular meals and bedtime? What if you started acting like the father I know you can be? Imagine a world like that!”

Tony is now red and shaking with more emotion than Pepper has seen in him in awhile. This is not what Pepper wanted to do when she came down here, but she knew it was bound to happen eventually.

“Imagine a world like — Pep, imagine a world where Morgan can truly be safe! Imagine a world where Morgan can meet people that have greatly impacted her parents’ lives! How can I call myself a good father if I don’t even try to give those things to her? I am the only person alive now that could possibly provide that for her! And you just want me to give up?”

Tony’s face is streaming with tears that match Pepper’s. There’s so much that has been left unsaid. So much hurt. Pepper thought it was best to give each other space to work it out, but now she’s realizing that what they need is the exact opposite.

“Tony,” Pepper is nearly sobbing now, “you have been working away down here for over seven months now. There is only so much you can do. You’re barely here, and even when you are with us, you aren’t really with us. It’s like living with a ghost . I feel like I’m raising our daughter alone, and I don’t know how much more I can take.” Tony softens, and steps closer to Pepper, reaching out to brace her arm in support, his tears still freely flowing.

“I would give anything to get Peter and the others back...but babe I don’t think there is a world like that.” Pepper’s voice cracks at the end, saying it out loud makes it all too real.

Tony crumbles into Peppers arms, “I — I know, but I — I couldn’t bring myself to give up. I can’t Pep. He was just a kid .”

“I know, babe, I know. But I don’t think he would want you to waste away trying to save him when you have a beautiful daughter to live for.”

“How? I want to stop so badly, but the guilt eats me alive Pep.” Pepper rubs her hand up and down Tony’s back in soothing motions. This is the most physical affection they’ve given each other in months, and she eats up the warmth it brings her.

Her tears slowly fall into Tony’s hair as she says, “We can work at it together. A step at a time. I don’t know all the answers, but being honest with each other will help.” He shakes in her arms, and she kisses the side of his head.

“I think it’s time we both try and see a therapist. Together and separate. There’s no way we can keep on like this and still be able to be there for Morgan.” Now that everything is out, it’s allowed Pepper to calm down and think straight.

“How can we manage all that? Everything seems so impossible right now.” It’s one of the most vulnerable things he’s said to her. She squeezes him tighter, whether for Tony’s benefit or her own, she’s not sure.

“I know Rhodey would love to get some Morgan time, and Nat as well. That can take a little bit off of us as we try and figure everything out. We got this babe.”

“You are the smartest woman I know Mrs. Virginia Potts,” Tony sniffles and it makes Pepper smile.

“You bet your ass I am Mr. Anthony Potts.” Tony chuckles before relaxing further into Pepper.

“Take me to bed?” It’s like he meant for it to be playful, but it sounds more hesitant and weary.

“Always.” She responds with a resounding kiss to the head.

The next year is a journey that leads them to a new quaint cottage where the world finally feels a bit brighter.

Notes:

So yeah. So sorry for any hurt you may be feeling right now...I take full responsibility. Please please please, feel free to yell at me in the comments on AO3 or here. Love you all, stay safe and stay healthy!

#post infinity war #pre endgame #angst ficlet #pepperony ficlet #ficlet #dealing with trauma #hurt/comfort #pov pepper potts #tony needs a hug #pepper needs a hug #my fic #fic #marvel fic #morgan is mentioned but not present #morgan stark #tony stark #pepper potts #pepperoni #pepperony

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chibinightowl · 6 years

Text

Cycle of Life

I reblogged this prompt a few months ago and have been working on this ever since. It’s beast and very different from anything I’ve ever written. To be honest, I’ve never been challenged so much by something before and I’m very pleased with how it turned it.

I also want to give a massive shoutout to @redrobinfection. This would not be complete with you!

~*~

After you die, you end up in a room with a book and a pen in front of you; Your job, to write the life story of a someone just born, just as someone did for you. Everything they do, think, or experience is up to you. #wordsnstuff

Jason thought he was used to the universe playing one cosmic joke on him after another. How else could he explain the complete and utter clusterfuck that was his life? He could admit that were some high points (he didn’t care what anyone said, when he first put on that uniform, Robin was magic ), but there were more low points than anything else.

He was tired of it. Tired of fighting a fight he could never win. Tired of seeking acceptance from someone who would never give it to him. Sure, he marched to the beat of his own drum more often than not, but it was a lonely path.

So when that bullet caught him in the thigh and nicked his femoral artery, he didn’t complain. Much. Jason kept shooting until his bullets ran out. The strap he barely had a chance to tie in place over the wound wasn’t able to keep up the pressure, not with how he forced his body to twist and turn to provide cover for his replacement, who was dealing with an injured demon bird.

The silence echoed around them as the last of the gunfire disappeared. “How’s he lookin’?” Jason ground out through gritted teeth. He was losing blood fast, he could feel it.

“He’ll be fine,” Tim replied somewhat stiffly. He’d taken a good hit to the ribs earlier; Jason wouldn’t be surprised if he’d managed to crack one, even with the armor they all wear. “B and N are on their way. ETA is five.”

Five minutes too long as far as Jason was concerned. He knew what those dark spots in his vision meant. The quick breathing and the rapid heartbeat. Hopefully the replacement would think he was just riding the high from a good, but stressful, fight. It was time to get out of here.

“You okay to cover this position?” Jason checked, trying to keep his breathing level. “I’m pretty sure I got the guy who was sniping us, but better safe than sorry.”

Tim waved him off without a word, his attention on the still unconscious Damian. The kid had taken a solid thwack to the head when one of the now deceased mooks decided to throw him into a metal shipping container. This was why Jason wore a helmet these days.

Not that it was doing him much good right now.

Jason took one last look at his replacement and the demon bird. It was better this way. Really. No muss, no fuss.

He managed to stay upright as he left the protection of their somewhat dubious cover, but as soon as he turned the corner, Jason let himself collapse against the shipping container. He wasn’t worried about getting shot again. The sniper had been good, but he was better. It was getting harder to breathe. The clasps for his hood gave way under his questing fingers. If these were his last moments on earth, then by God, he was going to breathe fresh air.

Or what passed for fresh air here in the shipping yards. Still, as he slid to the ground and tossed his helmet aside, the moon on the water was pretty. Much better than last time and the flashing red numbers that counted down his final seconds.

In the distance, he thought he heard a voice shouting. Jason didn’t turn his head, preferring to stare out over the water rather than at his older brother. A small smile cracked his lips. Go fucking figure that only now would he admit he had brothers. Three of them. And a sister, even if she was halfway around the world right now.

The shouting grew closer and farther away at the same time, as though it were echoing down some long tunnel. He heard his name and felt someone drop down heavily next to him. “Jason!”

He ignored them and kept his eyes trained on the moonlit water for as long as he could. Hands started pawing at him, trying to find where he was wounded. They were up too high, which they’d find out soon enough.

This time was better, Jason decided as his eyes dropped shut, embracing the soothing darkness that drowned out Dick’s shouts. Much better.

~*~*~

Waking up wasn’t something Jason expected. Waking up laying on his back wearing a comfortable pair of jeans and a t-shirt wasn’t part of the plan either. Death was the eternal sleep, one he never wanted to wake up from because dammit, it wasn’t as though he slept all that well in the first place. He’d been looking forward to playing catch-up for the rest of eternity.

Still, as he sat up to look around, it could be worse. He could be in Gotham, trapped in the cave below the Manor to the tender loving mercies of Alfred and Leslie. A twinge of guilt flashed through him. Alfred. Now there was someone he wouldn’t have minded having the chance to say good-bye to. His second death would undoubtedly hit the old man hard.

Jason took in the four rough cut walls around him. He was in some sort of cabin, with the windows wide open and fresh air (real fresh air, just like he imagined it would smell and taste like; no more of the smog choked air of Gotham) and sunshine streaming in. He rose cautiously from the low bed and his bare feet came in contact with a soft rug. A pair of boots sat over the door.

What the fuck was going on? He shook his head, trying to dispel the last of the wooziness from his awakening.

A cursory inspection of the cabin revealed he was the only one here. It was well stocked with food and other provisions he needed. Clothing for all seasons was found in the closet and books lined one of the cabin walls in neat shelves. He discovered there was plumbing in the small kitchen. Even the bathroom had plumbing too, which Jason was privately grateful for because outhouses just weren’t his thing, city boy that he was. There seemed to be some rudimentary electrical setup too, generator operated, which gave him cause to wonder about the power source. A sheathed hunting knife rested on a small table next to the door, but no guns. He even found fishing tackle.

The most curious thing of all though was the well-appointed writing desk that sat up against one of the open windows. It was a writer’s dream, with plenty of paper, pens, pencils, clips, and binders all neatly arranged and ready to go. Even the lighting was perfect and Jason was under no impression that if he were to sit in that office chair, he’d find it would contour to his body as well.

Rather than sit down, Jason put on socks and the boots, grabbed the knife, and stepped outside.

He swore instantly. “Son of a bitch.” Looking around, he knew where he was.

It was his dream of what heaven looked like. The vibrant forest around him was just as he always imagined it would appear. A breeze blew gently through the trees, rustling leaves as it passed. A squirrel chittered at something unseen and there was bird song in the distance. There was even a pond, which he was willing to bet was stocked with more than just fish, but little painted turtles too. It was the complete opposite of everything he ever knew, the quiet solitude a definite contrast to the loud cacophony of the city.

In other words, it was a transcendentalist’s dream. This quiet corner of eternity was now his.

“I really died this time,” he muttered to himself. “Well, isn’t that just a kick in the ass?”

“Well, that’s how it was written.”

Jason whirled around and looked back inside the cabin. On the couch before the fireplace was a man dressed all in white. At first glance, he looked kind of like Morgan Freeman. Sounded like him too. But that couldn’t be right. In his ideal afterlife, there wasn’t anyone but him and his books.

The figure smiled knowingly. “And you’ll certainly get that, Jason. After all, with the life you’ve had, you deserve some peace and quiet.”

Fingering the knife, Jason stepped back inside, looking around again in case he’d missed anyone else. He knew the place had been empty when he stepped out. Was positive of it. “Who’re you?” he asked, trying and failing at politeness.

“I’m the one who built this little place for you,” the dark skinned man said. He really did sound like Morgan Freeman, which was all kinds of messed up. “Got everything ready for your arrival. I knew it was coming.” He held up a thickly bound book.

Jason narrowed his eyes. “You’re not one of the Endless.” He’d heard of them before, stories he wasn’t supposed to have heard between Bruce and Dinah one night after Black Canary returned to the cave with them and discussing Dr. Fate. Death was supposed to be some goth chick and there was another…Dream, was it? Destiny? One of them was supposed to have a book bound to them.

“The Endless are a rather amusing conceit,” the man replied. “Very original, even if lacking in reality.”

“And this is real?” Jason can’t help the sarcasm. He was more confused now than he was before.

“This is very real.” The Morgan Freeman figure stood and walked around the sofa to lean against the desk. “Where else are you going to write the next tale?”

Jason really wished he had a gun right now. The urge to shoot the man grew stronger by the second. “Me? Write? I’m a reader, buddy, not a writer.”

“That’s what you all say at first,” the man stated in that honey smooth voice. “But you soon grow to enjoy it.”

“So what is this then? I write a story for my room and board here in Heaven?” It was a novel idea, he’d grant them that. He bit back the smirk for his cheesy pun.

“More than that,” the man replied. “You get to write the story of someone's life. Everything, from the moment they’re born to the moment they die. Their life, thoughts, experiences, that’s all up to you.”

“Are you for real?” Jason laughed and shook his head. “This has got to be some kind of joke.”

The man shook his head as well. “It’s no joke. You’ll write a story for someone’s life just as someone else wrote the story of yours.”

Jason grew still, his rage instantly boiling underneath the surface. “They what?”

“You heard me.”

“Yeah. I really wish I hadn’t because what the fuck? Someone sat here and wrote a goddamned story about just how fucked up my life was? What the shit? I died once already and I don’t remember any of this!”

“That’s because it was part of your story,” the man replied calmly. “You weren’t supposed to come here the first time. You were always meant to wake up and experience that second life.”

Jason thought he was going to be sick. The very thought that someone sat there and wrote all the things that happened to him, all the traumas he experienced, just for shits and giggles to pay their passage into heaven? No. Fucking no. Who could be that cruel?

This wasn’t Heaven. It was Hell, even if the package it was wrapped up in looked all nice and pretty. “What happens when I’m done?”

“Then you’re free to move on.” The man stood up straight and tugged at the ends of his sleeves, adjusting the cuffs. “You can take some time here to think things over, come up with your plot. The blue binder here has instructions and some general guidelines for you to follow, but overall, the life you write is yours, whatever you want it to be. I’ll check in with you periodically. Until then…” He winked and vanished into thin air.

Which was good because the hunting knife embedded itself in the wall right where his head had been. Jason’s aim wasn’t off just because he was dead. “Fuck,” he swore vehemently. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, FUCK! ”

~*~*~

Jason purposefully avoided the writing desk for several days as he tried to calm down and think about the situation. Difficult didn’t even begin to describe it because if there was ever a time to have an existential crisis, this was it. Who was he, really? Everything he ever thought, believed, experienced, you name it, it was all a sham. He was nothing more than a character in a book written by some jackwagon paying their own way into paradise.

They must have thought they were so clever, creating the entire mythos of Bruce, Clark, Diana, every single superhero and villain…At the same time, a small part of him admired it because the ability to construct an entire world with such a colorful (literally in some cases) cast of characters was simply amazing.

He was torn between wanting to kill them and shake their hand, which pissed him off even more.

Avoiding the cabin soon became his number one goal, so Jason passed the time by traipsing around the forest, learning the limits of his little world. It was bigger than he initially expected, taking about a day in any direction to reach the end. And what an end…sun-dappled forest giving way to a cliff overlooking the rest of eternity. He was on his own little island of existence, the dark nothingness of space all around him and countless numbers of stars shining in the distance. Jason spent a day and a night sitting on the edge of that cliff, just staring and trying to take it all in.

The only thing he determined was that each star had to be its own little pocket of the afterlife. Which meant there were others here, stuck in the same situation, wrapped up in various thoughts about life, death, and the vicious cycle they found themselves in. Or were these all places he could go to after his own solitary exile was done? Islands of possibilities, heaven to some and hell to others? Jason narrowed his eyes. Out there somewhere in the sea of infinity was his own creator. All that mattered right now was getting out of here so that he could find them and have a few choice words with them. Followed by a few choice maimings because it wasn’t as though death was an option here. A bullet between the eyes was too good for them.

So, how to do it? Was there a way around writing the damned story?

Well, if there was one thing the person who created him did right, it was that they made him a survivor. Jason Todd took shit from no one and did things his way. It still didn’t mean he didn’t want to tear this person to shreds for the kind of life they gave him. He took a great amount of pleasure imagining it.

Seriously, he was beaten within an inch of his life and blown up at age fifteen by a fucking clown. He clawed his way out of his grave. Closed in spaces, especially ones with poor ventilation, gave him the heebie-jeebies to this day. All of his memories, they were real . He lived them. Every. Single. One. What kind of fucked up mind created all this? They may as well have added in a hotline for readers to call in and interact with the story.

Press one for him to live. Press two for him to die.

The cliff became Jason’s place to think, whether they were deep and ponderous thoughts on the meaning of reality, predetermination, and fate or burning rage where he railed against his situation and threw curses out into the infinite. He walked the full circumference of his island many times, one large circle in the middle of nowhere.

Jason would often stand on the cliff’s edge, just staring blankly off into the void, his brain as quiet as everything around him. There was a calming effect thinking about nothing. A balm on his ripped and tattered soul. Nothing mattered anymore. He was the epitome of nobody and everybody. All the things he thought were so important, that he believed in, were figments of someone else’s imagination.

A thought skittered across his still pond, disturbing his serenity with the ripples in its wake. What was the point in it all? Why should he write someone else’s story only for them to go through this same thing when they die? His creator made him a rebel, so…

Without even thinking it through, Jason stepped over the edge.

This was him, rebelling.

Or he would be, if he could just fall properly. The familiar rush of air flowing past him, the sensation of motion, gravity tugging him closer and closer to the ground were all absent. Oh, he was falling, and the stars, no other worlds, were all around him, but he was no closer to them than he was before. Jason looked up and saw nothing.

But for all that he felt the absence of gravity, it sure hit him in the face when he landed hard on the ground at the top of the cliff.

“Ow.”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Jason refused to even spare the man a glance. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“It looks like you’re trying to get out of writing a book.” The man didn’t sound upset at all. If anything, he was amused.

“I refuse to put someone else through this complete and utter bullshit. Nothing matters anymore.” Jason rolled over. Above him, the leaves rustled in the gentle breeze, revealing the confluence where his blue sky met the inky black of infinity. The borders of his prison.

“Doesn’t it though?” The man sat down beside him, heedless of grass stains on his white linen suit. “Everything you know, everything you’ve learned, experienced, remember, that’s all you. It was real and nobody is taking that away from you. Part of the human experience is to learn and grow, just as it is to pass on those experiences to the next generation, so to speak.”

“How does that even work?” Jason retorted sourly. “How does progress occur if we’re limited by the breadth of our own experiences?”

“You’re only limited by your imagination,” the man replied with a wry grin. “You’re a rather well-read individual, so you tell me.”

Jason refused to fall into that trap. Still, there was one thing he wanted to know. “You said everything that essentially makes me, well, me , happened. Does that mean everything I’ve read was real too?”

“Yes. A novel within a novel, so to speak. But honestly, if you’d just read the binder, you would have been past this point already.”

“The binder is my bible?” Jason said derisively.

“If you choose to look at it that way.” The man stood and ran his hands over his pants, shaking loose little pieces of grass. “You’re welcome to write whatever strikes your fancy, Jason. When you’re done, you’re free to go wherever you want.”

He was gone before Jason could respond.

Not that it stopped him from shouting into the void. “I’m holding you to that, you creepy Morgan Freeman wannabe!”

There was a faint laugh on the back of the wind.

For the first time in what felt like an age, Jason returned to his cabin. But rather than start reading the damned binder, he took a long overdue shower. Afterwards, he explored the kitchen again. Hunger didn’t seem to be part of his routine anymore, but he made himself a sandwich from what he found in the pantry. Nothing was spoiled from when he was here before. In fact, it still looked as pristine as it did when he first found it.

Jason could agree with Bruce on this one. He hated magic.

Sandwich finished, he collapsed heavily into the office chair and glared at the binder. If he had heat vision, it would be in cinders, along with the rest of the desk. He didn’t want to do this, but it was glaringly obvious just how much of a choice he didn’t have. His one goal was to meet the motherfucker who screwed him over and kill them, never mind how impossible such a feat may be considering they were both dead. This person wrote Jason to be creative and vindictive, so he’s sure he can find a way to make their afterlife miserable.

Once his own story was done.

With that in mind, he opened the binder.

~*~*~

The binder didn’t suck as much as Jason expected it to. In fact, it was really fucking helpful. That didn’t stop him from chucking it against the wall when he realized it because he could have been a month into this damn thing and that much closer to the end. Not to mention, as soon as he read the part about supplemental learning materials to help with his writing, a new bookcase appeared out of nowhere filled with everything he could possibly dream of; the topics even changed as he thought of something new.

Jason lost a few months just sitting there reading, one tangent leading into the next. It was all fascinating, but he found himself missing having someone there to talk to about what he had learned. Someone to argue with. The little turtle in the pond that he sort of made friends with wasn’t much of a conversationalist. And forget the birds; they just came for the breadcrumbs.

When he realized exactly how much time had passed, he swore six ways to Sunday and pulled himself away to return to the binder.

His instructions were simple, just like the man had said. He was to write the life of someone just born. All their thoughts, actions, beliefs, experiences, the whole nine yards. It was all up to him. No copping out by writing the infant’s death within hours of birth. No, he had to give them a full life.

Jason had been 23 when he died for good. Young to be sure, but he can’t say it had been empty or lacking in experience. He glanced out the open window, at the sun dappled pond where the light breeze rippled across the surface. “A child soldier,” he muttered. “That’s what you made me, whoever you are. Well, let’s turn this story around.”

Ever since he’d learned he had to write this story, only one made sense to him. There was nothing against it in the binder either.

He would rewrite the story of his life and have it turn out the way he wished it would. This was one thing eternity had given him so far…the time to think. There was a fair amount of good things that happened to him, which was easy to lose track of under the fuckton of shit that occurred as well. For once, he was going to focus on the good. That didn’t mean certain things weren’t going to happen though. These events helped shape who he turned into, how he thought, and what he believed.

For all the shit he gave Bruce, there was still one indomitable truth Jason held dear.

Robin gave him magic. So Robin this new kid would become.

Jason picked up his pen and started writing.

The early years were the hardest. Trying to write the mindset of an infant, then a toddler, was challenging, even with the tips provided by the binder. It wasn’t until the new kid (whom he named after himself; this kid was him, so why not?) got to about age five that it started becoming easier, even as thoughts became more complex.

Little Jason didn’t have quite the same childhood that dead Jason did. Sure, he still grew up in the Bowery, but Willis Todd was around a bit more often and Catherine Todd managed to get and hold a job at a diner in the neighborhood. Food wasn’t exactly plentiful but he didn’t starve. Willis was still an asshole though, so when he finally left, it wasn’t the end of the world. Well, it was to little Jason, but he focused on helping his mom instead, especially once it became apparent she was sick and wasn’t getting better. Stealing became a way of life in order to help make ends meet. He was good at it too.

This part hurt to write, so Jason took a break. Wandering through his forest helped, as did sitting by the pond and fishing. He just needed to sort out his thoughts. In this story, Sheila Haywood didn’t exist. She was never his mother and he’d been a fool to ever believe otherwise. By eliminating her from the picture altogether, the whole mess in Ethiopia would never happen.

But it brought up something Jason hadn’t pondered yet; he’d been avoiding it actually.

The Joker.

This was his story, so what did he want to do with the Joker? He had a chance here to right some wrongs, not only his own, but Barbara’s as well. Her shooting and subsequent paralysis turned her into one of the most powerful figures on the planet, one whose real face only a select few in the hero community even knew, so well-guarded was her secret. What Babs made herself into was awe-inspiring, even if it was just the work of his writer. He forced himself to remember that these events did happen; it was all real, so to think of it as a work of fiction took away something quintessential from her.

Jason sighed as he lounged on the little wooden pier. Hanging over the edge as he was, he could see fish swimming around lazily in the water. “Damned if I do and damned if I don’t,” he muttered, not expecting a reply.

“Plot issue?”

He yelped in surprise, jerking up and around to take stock of his visitor. There was the man in white at the end of the pier closest to shore, completely at ease with his hands in the pockets of his loose fitting trousers. “Do you have a bell or something you could ring before just randomly appearing outta nowhere?”

“Nope!” the man replied cheerfully, making his way down the dock to sit next to him. “But I will admit, I’m glad to see you’ve finally buckled down. Made some good process too.”

“You reading over my shoulder?”

The man laughed, all rich and plummy in that smooth voice of his. “That would be spoiling things.”

Jason narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “I’m rewriting my life.”

“I thought you might,” the man nodded slowly. “Considering everything that happened, it’s only natural to want to see a better ending.”

“That bother you at all?”

“Of course not.” The man stared off into the distance for a time before turning his attention back on Jason. “I assume the new boy will live longer than you?”

Jason scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Duh. I’m just trying to decide if something horrible that happened in my story should occur in this one. You said everyone was real, right?” He had to double check.

“I did. Every single person was real. Even the ones who weren’t technically people at all. You had a lot of monsters in your story.”

It came across as an idle comment, but Jason picked up the slightest hint of reproach. “Hey, I didn’t write them,” he replied.

The man eyed him for a moment. “No, you didn’t,” he agreed. “So, at the risk of a spoiler, what are you debating about having happen again?”

Jason glanced back out over the water. He felt sick for even contemplating it. “Barbara and the Joker shooting her.”

“Ah,” the man replied, nodding slowly. “You weren’t there that night, but you read the report and the news after.”

“Yeah.” God, he was still broken up over that night. He’d been on a school trip, one he’d been so excited about at the time. His guilt nearly ate him alive when he returned home.

“I wish I could help, but that’s against the rules. Still, I will leave you with this.” The man stood and gazed down at Jason. “Think it through. The choices you make now will impact the story later. Also, for what it’s worth, I thought Barbara was a very engaging character, especially once she came into her own.”

With that bit of supposedly sage advice, he disappeared.

“Fucking useless,” Jason mumbled to the turtle who poked its head above the water for some air. “Just useless.”

The turtle just blinked at him and swam away.

~*~*~

It took Jason a few days to make a decision. When he did, he started writing again.

Catherine Todd died when little Jason was 12. She didn’t succumb to heroin addiction; instead, she got over her pride and went to the Free Clinic in Crime Alley and extended her life by a couple of years with the treatments Leslie gave her there. Now an orphan, the doctor took little Jason (or Jay as Jason started thinking of him) under her wing while Social Services tried to place him in a proper foster home.

While that was going on, Jay wandered the streets he knew all too well, day and night, to distract him from his painful memories.

And then, finally, the fateful night arrived. Jay saw the Batmobile parked in an alley one night. He only felt spite towards the big bad Bat. What had he ever done for him? He never came to Crime Alley, never kept people like his dad from beating on him and his mom. He didn’t save people like his mom, too weak to work and provide for her young son. Jay couldn’t hurt Batman, but he could embarrass him.

Steal his tires and make him walk home.

Yeah.

Jason knew he was channeling too much of himself into this scene, but he couldn’t help it. This was the night everything changed.

He wove a new narrative starting that night, one where Bruce wasn’t quite so lost to his consuming quest for justice. Yes, he was still horrible about expressing emotions, which led to arguments, but that what teenager didn’t think their parental figure was a douche sometimes? Jay had a better relationship with Dick too. Sure, it was rocky at first, but Dick soon learned having a little brother wasn’t a horrible thing after all.

A few years passed. Jay was Robin and having the time of his life. It wasn’t easy and there was a ton of hard work to put into it, but the rewards were more than worth it, as far as he was concerned. It was magical.

Then the Joker shot Babs, destroying Jay’s world that nothing really bad ever happened to the good guys.

Jason wrote the next few months quickly, trying very hard to keep his own experience of that time from coloring his narration. His world started spiraling around that time, but this wasn’t happening here. No, while Jay dealt with his anger, he unexpectedly made a new friend.

Enter Tim Drake.

This was something Jason took another long break to think over before he continued. He and his replacement had a long and complicated history, but with his newfound perspective on things, he decided the little shit wasn’t actually half bad. In fact, if he hadn’t died when he did the first time, he and Tim may have become friends on their own.

It had to take dying a second time for Jason to realize it.

“Never let it be said I can’t learn from my mistakes,” he said to the turtle one evening as he fished from the dock. The little painted turtle bore the brunt of his random musings. At least now it didn’t swim away whenever Jason spoke to it. Instead, it would sit on the stump Jason dragged into the pond one afternoon, giving it a spot to sun itself.

The turtle blinked at him.

“I mean, Tim wasn’t really that bad. Sure, he was kind of a dick, but we all were.” It was easier to refer to everyone in the past tense. His story was over after all, so theirs were too. “I like the idea of little me and tiny stalker Tim being friends. Why not? It’s better than what happened to me next.”

Jason went with it.

Jay and tiny stalker Tim met one stormy night when the skies overhead were about to explode with an unseasonably ferocious storm that came out of nowhere. Robin saved Tim after he slipped on a fire escape and almost broke his neck in the subsequent fall. Things progressed and Jay learned tiny Tim knew his big secret, knew Dick’s identity, as well as that of Bruce’s. For his own protection, even though Bruce didn’t want him to, Jay started training Tim.

It was interesting how the new narrative flowed so easily despite the changes. It was still dark, but there was a hell of a lot more hope than his ever had. He wasn’t around for when Bane broke Bruce or the massive earthquake that destroyed Gotham, but his story didn’t need those events. No, it was taking on a life of its own and deviating so much from what Jason considered his timeline that it was starting to feel like a completely different story altogether.

He was okay with that.

Jay had the chance to outgrow Robin and pass it on to his replacement. Tim’s mom still died, but Jack lived and was a semi-decent father, if somewhat clueless to what was going on when Tim’s friend Jay came over to their Upper West Side apartment. They’d sneak out onto the roof and spar. Over summer vacation, Bruce created a fictional study program for Tim to travel to Europe where he encountered Shiva and ended up training under her instead. Jason had always found it hilarious that his replacement had been trained by Shiva at one point; little goody two shoes knew some vicious moves that never saw the light of day until he became Red Robin.

As boys so often did, they grew up. Jay graduated high school and went on to go to an Ivy League university, something Jason always dreamed of. His degree wasn’t in literature like so many people expected of him; it was medicine. Alfred and Leslie wouldn’t be around to patch them up forever, so someone had to take the initiative and learn to do it right. This was when he gave Robin to Tim. He’d been training hard for this moment and deserved it.

Bruce was so proud of him, even if he had a hard time admitting it. Still, Jay was fluent in reading Bruceisms, so it was clear as day to him. He was away at university when Damian made his first appearance. Bruce being Bruce, he kept the news quiet, so it was Tim who informed him, showing up with a bandage around his throat from where he’d had the blade of a sword held against it.

This was where the story started getting tricky and Jason had to stop writing again to plot things out. First and foremost, if he kept going on the way he was, Jay wasn’t going to end up married to some nice girl or even Donna Troy. Nope, he was going to end up with Tim.

So how did he feel about that?

Jason didn’t have a lot of experience with relationships and he could honestly count the number of meaningful sexual encounters he’d had while alive on one hand. Which was just sad, but that’s how his story was written.

“This needs some research,” he announced to his turtle friend.

It blinked at him in reply, just like it always did.

A couple months later (Jason was thorough in his perusal of the ever-so-helpful supplementary materials bookcase), he had his answer. “Why the fuck not?” he mumbled as he picked up his pen once again.

Shit happened, of course, because this was Gotham after all but that whole battle for the cowl fiasco never happened and while Tim did disappear for a while after Dick took Robin away from him, he kept in touch with Jay, who was the only person who believed him when he said Bruce was still alive and Darkseid didn’t kill him. They both had a great time saying fuck you to Dick when Tim came back with his proof. Bruce returned, just as grumpy as usual and Jay went back to college, because med school was a bitch who didn’t wait for anyone.

It was when Tim finally started university that they attempted some semblance of a relationship. The whole thing was cheesy and awkward, but suited the two of them like the massive dorks they both were at heart.

Jason wrote about their eventual marriage, how they adopted a couple of kids of their own because Jay never really took up a hero name after he became a doctor. Dick took to calling him Redwing and it stuck. Tim was Red Robin, so they were Red and Red, which worked for them. They mourned the eventual death of Alfred together, and didn’t let Bruce drive them away after his spectacular explosion which revealed just how incapable he was of dealing with grief. Tim took over Wayne Enterprises for a time, a fact that Damian didn’t like, but he’d long since learned that he wasn’t exactly cut out for the business world, especially one where the board of directors outvoted him at every turn.

Doctor Jay saved all their lives at one point or another on his surgical table down in the Batcave.

He saved lives instead of taking them.

In a way, Jason decided this was his atonement for all the death and destruction, all the pain and suffering he’d caused his family. Even if everything he knew was gone, they all lived on in him. This was his way of honoring their memories, by giving them a version of him that was a better man, one who was affected by all he’d seen and experienced and did something to actually help.

As he approached the end of the story, Jason grew a little misty eyed. But he stuck with it, writing Jay’s death with him surrounded by his loved ones. Tim, his children, even his grandchildren. Heroes, every single one in their own unique way.

He set his pen down and rubbed at his eyes. It was finally done.

“Emotional?” a voice asked from the doorway to the cabin. “You’ve been at it for a long time.”

“Fuck you,” Jason growled and pushed away from his desk. “I’m done. I did what you asked for. Here’s your fucking story.” He slammed the final page onto one of the massive stacks that sat beside the desk on the floor. There were more papers than he remembered sitting there.

“You did.” The man in white entered the room and approached the desk, the massive story Jason had written. “You didn’t try cutting corners either, from the looks of it.”

“I said I was gonna rewrite my story, so that’s what I did. That kid in there gets to live a long and full life, surrounded by the ones he loves and who love him in return.” Jason swallowed against the lump forming in his throat.

The man didn’t miss it. “Something the matter, son?”

What was the point in lying to someone who could probably see through him from a million miles away? “Just…a little jealous, I suppose,” Jason admitted. “I’ve lost count of the months, years, I’ve been working on this story. Hell, probably even decades. You could say I’m attached to it.”

“Well, that’s good then.” The man beamed at him and touched the papers. Under his dark fingers, they shimmered before disappearing.

“What the fuck?” Jason shouted and lunged at his afterlife’s work. It couldn’t be gone. “No!”

“Just relax,” the man said and a light reappeared where the stack had been, coalescing into a large, heavily bound book. “A story is much easier to read when it looks like this.”

Jason sank to his knees as relief tore through him. “Christ, give a man some warning.”

“Sorry.” He didn’t sound very sorry as he hefted the book. “So, you’re free to go, Jason. Where do you want me to send you? It can be anywhere you like.”

It had been so long since Jason had even thought about taking revenge on his writer that the reminder was jarring. The urge to maim and destroy had dimmed so much that it was almost a non-existent ember within him. So much for revenge.

He sighed heavily and glanced at his book. “To be honest, there’s only one place I really want to go.”

“Oh? And where’s that?”

Jason nodded at the book. “There. That life right there, it’s everything I didn’t know I wanted.”

The Morgan Freeman lookalike smiled beatifically, like a proud father whose overly stubborn son just came into the light. “Then come into the garden you created, Jason. It’s where you’re meant to be. Just like the one who came before you and wrote your story.”

Jason’s head jerked up. “What?” he asked, startled.

“The one who wrote your story? When she was done, she also stepped into the pages. Just like every other person before you has.”

Scowling, Jason rose to his feet. “So the choice to go wherever I want was all an illusion?” Go fucking figure. The afterlife was nothing more than a book-churning factory. All those distant stars, each one containing a soul locked in place until they enter their stories to live again. What a crappy version of reincarnation.

“Not exactly,” the man replied. “You already said you want to enter your story. Is that really so bad of a place to go?”

“No, but that’s beside the point. You said I could go where I want. What if I didn’t want to go there?” He pointed at the book. “What if I want to stay right here and just read for the rest of eternity?”

The man laughed loudly, a rich rumble that no doubt was supposed to put him at ease. “Actually, you could do that. You earned it by writing this monster.” He hefted the book. “The only problem is this life won’t have a chance to be born until you enter the pages. A break is all well and good, but wouldn’t it be a waste to let this version of you not have a chance to live?”

It was the guilt trip of all guilt trips. “Fuck. You.”

“Do you really want that break, Jason?” the man asked in a mild voice. It was like being lectured by Alfred. “You’ve earned it. But more than anything, I know you just want to be happy. So why delay that chance?”

The spiteful urge to say no rose up in Jason. He stalled by glancing at the bookcase, at all the books he’d read and reread, as well as all the ones he’d meant to get to eventually. The desire within him to finish them died. He knew he wouldn’t enjoy them, not knowing what he did now. Here he was, still getting dicked over.

At least it was going to be a long time before he was in this position again. And who knew what Jay would write, once he woke up and grieved for the loss of everything he loved. But Jay was also a realist and a survivor; he would get over it enough to do his part. Hell, perhaps he’d even write the adventure story he and Tim were constantly joking about within the pages of his book. Thinking on it, Jason was almost positive he would. It would be Jay’s tribute to Tim and his way of keeping their love alive.

And since he was technically Jay now, it would be a story that he would write at some distant point in the future.

“I want to go on the record by saying this fucking sucks and your afterlife can go eat a dick.” Jason huffed and crossed his arms, looking everywhere but at the man in white. “So how does this fucking work?”

The man approached him and held out the book. “When you’re ready, just open it and start reading.”

Was he ready? Again with the illusion of choice. Jason shook his head as he opened the book. “Goodbye to me.”

He vanished in a flash of light into the pages. The book landed on the floor of the cabin with a hard thunk.

The man in white stooped over to pick it up. “Always so stubborn,” he said and took a seat on the sofa. “Now let’s see how things change this time.”

He started to read.

#chibinightowl writes #wordsnstuff #Jason Todd #angst #Life #Death #Resurrection

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