#you're going to be the death of me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

charlietheepicwriter7 · 3 months

Text

De-Aged Danny, gesturing to a dazed Bruce inside Wayne Manor: And this is Bruce! Otherwise known as the Himbo! Reporters: Hmm, yes, interesting... Bruce: What the- Danny: I'm not sure what that word means. I heard it from Dick, but no one will give me my answer, not even Jason, who is easily bribed. Bruce: Why are there reporters in my house!? Danny, innocent and childlike: They asked to come inside, Bruce! They seemed like really nice people, so I thought it'd be polite to give them a tour. Bruce, filled with infinite patience: I really wish you had asked me before you did that, chum. Danny: But why? We don't have anything to hide... do we, Bruce?

Or, in order to rise to the Ghost Throne, Danny has to complete a series of trials to prove he is capable of ruling (or any other reason, Danny just needs to do trials to prove himself).

The last trial, issued by Clockwork, is thus: discover the Wayne Family secret in two weeks without the use of any of his powers.

He has one shapeshift to pick a form that could endere him to the Waynes, but only one before he starts and he has to get close to the family by his own wits. Danny, after studying the family and reading of one sentence summary of each Wayne, picks the body of a six-year-old little boy that looked like a child Jason Todd.

Bruce: That child is up to something. Dick, third favorite: I don't know, Bruce; he acts like a normal kid. Jason, #1 favorite: I doubt the old man's ever met a normal kid. Tim, least favorite: Bruce is right, but can you please not talk like the villains from Chicken Run.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #de-aged danny #danny thinks the trials happen in simulations in the GZ #he has no idea they were alternate realities each time #c: danny fenton #c: bruce wayne #c: dick grayson #c: jason todd #jason is favorite since danny is convinced that his “death” has to do with the Secret #and also for being completely 100% ok with throwing down with a child #tim is least favorite because he's too suspicious #damian is second favorite for also being 100% ok with throwing down with a child #dick is tearfully trying to gentle parent jason into being a good big brother #all “you're going to be such a good big brother let me teach you.”#which jason doesn't NEED but is kinda flattered that dick has so much faith in him to be a big bro

3K notes · View notes

vaguely-concerned · 3 months

Text

sometimes I think of all the on-the-surface warm, well-meaning but deeply ineffectual advice and attention john gives harrow through harrow the ninth (make some soup and get some sleep! get a hobby! don't be so hard on yourself! self care harrow! as long as I need take no actual responsibility in this relationship whatsoever I would have loved to be your dad!) set up against the stark truth that with his other hand he has been staging her attempted horrific murder again and again and again like a living nightmare on the logic that it will 'put her down or fix her'. and then I find that I wish there is a hell. a special hell where twitch streamers turned necromantic death emperors go

#the locked tomb #harrowhark nonagesimus #john gaius #harrow the ninth #this is why I don't buy john as misunderstood and initially well-meaning AT ALL #this is a pattern you see with him again and again and again -- right down to his interpersonal relationships #(and indeed it's in the more grounded interpersonal relationships you can most clearly see him as he is I think #the fantasy death empire of a thousand years doesn't register quite as viscerally because it's like. heightened; not quite real #but the emotional violence and manipulation that surrounds him? oh boy that is EXTREMELY real and scarily well-observed)#there's a premeditation to so much of what he does (contracts with planets that only end 'in the event of the emperor's death' anyone?#yeah john we get it you're hilarious and I wish you weren't)#the greatest trick john ever pulled was making anyone think he's just a lil guy. what does he know he's only god #when you first read the book the complete callousness of the other adults is so horrible that john seems like an oasis of care #(though you start to get this uneasy feeling when that care never seems to translate to like... relief or soothing or resolution)#and it makes it feel almost obscene when you find out what's actually going on #it's the mercy & augustine enabler hour but at least they're completely honest in their cruelty there #while john is -- well he sure is being john huh #this is just me being angry with him btw philosophically I don't think this is how the story will or should end #(with john slam dunked right into hell that is)#it's just... harrow is so vulnerable. and what he does to her is so insidious and fucked up #john is very deeply human. unfortunately the capacity to quite simply suck so much is deeply human too

1K notes · View notes

nerdynuala · 12 days

Text

Had a vision at 3 am and instead of being concerned as I should, I turned it into a comic with the weak excuse of it being a healthy pose drawing practice (yeah no, there's nothing healthy about this)

Anyway L has found a new way to confirm if Light is Kira

I would say he's Kira

393 notes · View notes

missholloween · 4 months

Text

I'm still not over the fact that when Paul re-enters in NPMD after If I Loved You, Inevitable stars playing. The leitmotif of Paul Matthews The Guy who didn't like musicals, it's his final solo, the song of his defeat. His leitmotif is a love song that ended up with his soulmate's life. His leitmotif is of the song where he's happier in the musical, but he's also dead.

#i feel like throwing up. audiences didn't cheer and shout as much as they should during that scene #starkid #tgwdlm #npmd #paul Matthews #the guy who didn't like musicals #inevitable #matt dahan and jeff blim you're going to be the death of me #hyl rambles

546 notes · View notes

theminecraftbee · 8 months

Text

There are several things Martyn realizes, all at once, when he opens his eyes:

He is dreaming.

It's one of those in-between dreams, the ones that aren't quite dreams.

He is sitting at a green felted table. It is sitting on a stage. The lighting is dim, and no one is watching, but out of the corner of his eye he can see the stagehands dressed in black, waiting.

He is not the only one sitting at the table. There is a Watcher, draped in purple. There is a Listener, draped in yellow. There is someone he recognizes in a red sweater. There is someone he thinks he should recognize, but can't quite, shuffling a deck of cards.

"Right. What's all this, then," he mutters.

We are playing blackjack, the Listener says.

We are deciding the rules, the Watcher says.

"It's not like we have anything better to do. Honestly, I'm glad you're here. Do you know how boring these guys are?" Grian says, and Martyn decides to quietly file Grian away as a dream-Grian, as opposed to real-life-Grian, so he doesn't go insane and/or stab him when he wakes up. He waits for the almost-familiar dealer to say something. He does not. After another few moments of awkward nonsense dream-silence, Martyn sighs and leans forward on the table.

"Sure, this might as well be happening," Martyn says. "Deal me in. How's the betting work, again?"

"You put your bet on the table. If you beat the dealer, you get to add it to the game," Grian explains. "If you don't beat the dealer, it takes it."

"Yeah, but like, that's abstract, isn't it? What does that mean, exactly, me losing what I bet if I don't beat the dealer," Martyn says.

Grian shrugs. "Don't ask me. To be honest, I'm hardly the storyteller you are."

"Me? Why are you acting like I have any control over these things when you're--"

Are you ready to play?

Martyn shuts up, looks at the Listener, and sighs. "Yeah, sure, I'm ready to play. Why not."

The dealer looks to its left. Grian sighs. "Why are you making me bet first. Again. We should rotate where we're sitting--fine, fine, I know it's an advantage because I'm the worst at this. Uh. Hm. No trading or giving away lives again. Not even as time or something. It makes the dynamics all weird, and I think we could use a nice straightforward death game next time."

(Martyn wants to roll his eyes. Nice and straightforward. Sure.)

The Watcher goes next. I would like there to be deep and wonderful bonds between the players. I would like those bonds to seem unbreakable.

"Coming from you, that's ominous," Martyn says.

Can I not just miss the alliances of the early days? the Watcher says.

"Never left the desert," Grian says, rolls his eyes, and looks at Martyn in commiseration. Martyn just stares back. So sue him, he's a bit more worried about this whole concept than an eye roll and a pithy phrase. Things Watchers want are rarely good.

When the bonds are enforced, they're less interesting, complains the Listener.

Martyn looks over sharply. Hey, wait, he thought--

I didn't say they had to be enforced by rule. I said they had to be deep. Encouraged, as opposed to discouraged.

Just saying. You'll never recapture Third Life.

Martyn swallows. His throat is dry. Weren't the Listeners supposed to be the good guys, here?

Besides, what I want is for each death to be meaningful again. They've felt too meaningless, lately, the Listener continues.

Martyn thinks the dealer raises an eyebrow, but it strikes him he's not exactly sure. Grian snorts. "Meaningful deaths. That's rich for you to say. I mean, I guess they're meaningful sometimes? I don't know, Martyn's the one who understands dramatic sacrifices, I just like killing things."

"Why do you keep on looking at me when you say those things," Martyn says.

"Look, you wouldn't be here if you weren't helping write," Grian says.

"What?" Martyn says.

We're here to play our cards for the story, the Watcher says. Aren't you also one of the authors?

"Me? What? No, I'm--what are you talking about," Martyn says.

Oh, well. I also hope your meaningful deaths make it in, the Watcher says the Listener.

Thanks, even if I disagree on the bonds, the Listener says.

"They hardly ever talk about real, concrete rules they want," complains Grian. "It's easier to understand the consequence if they bring up actual rules. Like boogeyman or no boogeyman."

"We're all just betting on cards!" Martyn says, throwing his hands up. "You're giving me a headache!"

It's your bet.

"Fine!" Martyn says. "Fine! You know what? Screw all of you. I hope this is the last one. I hope we never have to go back to that stupid death game. I hope it's miserable to watch or to listen to or to play and everyone just gives up. How's that for a bet?"

You're no fun.

Is that what you really want?

"Suit yourself," Grian says. "Honestly, if I still had that to bet, I guess I probably would."

"What do you mean, if you still had that to bet?"

"Well, I mean, that's not how blackjack works, is it? I don't just get back my in when I play it."

The dealer nods, and then silently, with a long bony hand, deals the cards.

Grian is dealt the four of diamonds. The Watcher is dealt the nine of spades. The Listener is dealt the five of clubs. Martyn is dealt a jack of spades. The dealer deals itself a seven of hearts. The dealer deals Grian a six of clubs--

"Hey, isn't that supposed to be face-down?" Martyn asks.

"Not here," Grian explains. "They're all face up so we can't touch the cards. So we don't have to. So we can't cheat."

"Who said anything about cheating?" Martyn says.

"Please," Grian says.

The dealer makes a hand motion. Martyn, grumpily, falls silent. He supposes they're playing by casino rules, then. He hasn't been in a casino since--he wouldn't know. Hard to remember anything that isn't this, isn't it? Isn't killing and dying and things out of his control and things very much in his control and, apparently, bizarre dream sequences designed to make him want to strangle Grian.

Anyway. Grian is dealt a six of clubs, giving him ten. The Watcher is given an eight of spades, giving it seventeen. The Listener is dealt a king of hearts, giving it fifteen. Martyn is given a six of clubs, giving him sixteen. The dealer deals its own second card face-down. Martyn stops to try to speak, and then shuts his mouth. Right. Dealer's advantage.

He stares at the numbers.

Grian sighs. "Well, I've got to double down, don't I? Fine. I want the whole 'red lives can kill' thing to be enforced somehow. I don't care how. There's my double down."

The dealer nods.

"Why would you want that," Martyn says blankly.

If we all win, that will be interesting with the bonds, the Watcher says mildly.

Grian shrugs. "I mean, we've enforced red names not befriending green names, but not the murder thing before. Figure we should switch up the game, right?"

"Why?" Martyn says again.

Well, it wouldn't do for it to be boring.

"No, not that. Just... isn't it easier to handle when the rules are laid out properly?"

Martyn throws his hands up, but stops arguing. The dealer gives Grian a face-down card. The dealer moves to the next party at the table.

The Watcher looks over at the dealer and makes a cutting-off motion. I stand.

The dealer moves on. Hit me, the Listener says, and is dealt the queen of diamonds. The Listener gestures to Martyn. It seems I bust. Pity. I suppose there will be no guarantee of meaning, then. Not what I'd prefer.

The dealer looks at Martyn. Martyn looks at the other hands. Martyn pauses.

"Wait, this is like, casino blackjack, yeah? I'm only playing against you, not the whole table?"

"Why would you be playing against us?" Grian says. "Writing's a collaborative process."

Martyn looks entreatingly at the Listener, but the Listener is a little too caught up in the bad hand it has been dealt. Martyn looks entreatingly at the Watcher, but the Watcher just looks somehow confused.

"I was under the impression that, I don't know, you all were adversarial."

Why? All we want is the same thing as you: the story to be told a certain way.

Martyn's not sure if he's furious or just numb.

"Fine. Got a sixteen, don't I? Hit me."

Two of spades.

He's furious. He wants to win against the dealer. He wants to win against everyone. He wants his idea to make it through. He has an eighteen, though. There are only two numbers in the deck that will not bust him, and he's no fool. Hitting on sixteen is a risk enough; if he wants his stupid bet of everything finally ending to make it through, he's got to hold here.

"I hold," he says through gritted teeth.

The dealer silently deals itself another card. A three of hearts. Distantly, Martyn's ears rush. He could have taken that. He could have taken the hit. He could have won. He could have had blackjack, and he doesn't know what the extra payout for blackjack even means in a game like this one, but he could have had it, and he held back, he didn't take the risk, he didn't--

The dealer flips up its cards. Seven, eight, three. Eighteen.

Martyn's heart pounds. A stand-off.

Grian flips up his own card and groans. It's a five of diamonds. "There goes that bet," he mutters.

The dealer makes a sweeping motion around the table. The Watcher smiles, a terrible, terrible thing. Martyn, all at once, realizes that he can't ask again. He can't say 'this is guaranteed to be the last one' again. He backs out of his chair. To the sides, he sees the stagehands change the lighting. A spotlight, on him and the dealer--

"That isn't fair," he says. "It's a tie. I should get my bet back, right? It's a tie!"

THAT IS WHERE WE DIFFER FROM THE HOUSES IN VEGAS, the dealer says, and Martyn's heart stops.

(The voice is familiar. Familiar, but he cannot place it.)

YOU SEE, IN THIS GAME, THERE IS ALWAYS ONE THING THAT HAS AN ADVANTAGE. ONE THING THE STORY IS ALWAYS PLAYING AGAINST. ONE THING, THAT INEVITABLY, AFTER LONG ENOUGH PLAYING, WILL WIN.

There, the dealer looks Martyn in the eyes, and Martyn, all at once, knows exactly what the dealer must be.

AND THAT IS ME.

Martyn stares Death in the eyes.

Then, in a cold sweat, Martyn wakes up.

He does not sleep again for a long time.

#trafficblr #martyn inthelittlewood #grian #the watchers #the listeners #a bee fic #this is me getting ALL OF MY MOST PRETENTIOUS URGES OUT before i go write more giftfic #literally all my most favoritest pretentious tropes. death personified. weird audience/writer avatar watchers and listeners. cards.#the series abstracted as a stage show. martyn being tired and confused.#really really ominous portents of the next game that hasn't actually happened yet #this is what self-indulgence looks like. if you're me.#there could not be. a more me fic.#anyway. ANYWAY. martyn doesn't understand why he's here. but why WOULDN'T he be here?#out of everyone in the series he's one of the ones who shapes the narrative the most after all

957 notes · View notes

cuubism · 1 year

Text

dream and hob are really just that post that was like 'introverts only make friends when an extrovert forcibly adopts them'

#hob picking dream up by the scruff of his neck: you're my friend now and we're having soft tacos later!#that was death's goal she was like hob is powerful and outgoing enough to rope dream into a friendship. i'm sure of it #dream's never had a friend because he never approaches anyone or tries and no one approaches him because he's scary and intimidating #except hob who doesn't give a fucK!!#hob: me and the best friend i pulled by not knowing when to quit!#little does hob know once he wins dream's favor dream will never let go of his hand and be completely obsessed with him for the rest oftime #that's how it works #dreamling #i feel u dream i've never initiated a relationship ever either

897 notes · View notes

lightasthesun · 4 months

Text

Imagine surviving the war only to lose most of the people closest to you.

The Woman that once upon a time held your heart in her hands.

The Girl that you loved like a daughter and whose death would ultimately lead to you losing your only brother.

•

In this universe, the river of time flows differently. Each step, each choice, and each poignant moment in its stream drift slightly off course.

It starts like this:

When Ahsoka and Bo-Katan ask the Jedi Order for aid in freeing Mandalore from Darth Maul's grasp and finally putting an end to the former Sith's reign, Obi-Wan does not ignore their call for help. Satine's ghost still haunts his nightmares, and it's the look on her sister's face, along with the redheads snarling accusations and Ahsoka's distant demeanor, that cause his typically composed exterior to splinter.

Through the cracks in his shields, a presence slips in – wild and tumultuous, yet practically radiant in its brilliance.

Days, months, weeks and even years later Obi-Wan will wish he'd taken a little longer to cradle her presence close.

It ends like this:

Anakin with Windu on the Invisible Hand. A incapacitated Sith in custody and another, more vile, more cunning, more sinister, choosing the wrong moment to reveal himself. A twist of fate. A long lost friend showing signs of old loyalty. Lightning. Screams. Hurt and Betrayal. The Chosen One as he was meant to be without terrors of the night influencing his most damning decision. Red clashing with purple, with blue. Red, blue, purple, blue, red, purple— A head rolls. The cackling stops.

For a moment, Peace.

A bond, frail at the edges but oh so resilient, crafted amidst blaster fire and silly nicknames and bets made on the battlefield, breaks—

Anakin screams.

•

On Mandalore the last chess piece falls with a Padawans last sacrifice.

First, Maul taunts. Maul laughs. Maul feeds on rage, on grief and hurt and terror, terror, terror. He's stronger here. Less controlled too, but while his greed costs him his head, his strength costs Obi-Wan the centerpiece of his lineage.

Obi-Wan holds his daughter as she bleeds out in his arms. His shoulders shake but he does not cry. His eyes burn but he does not weep. His lips twitch but he does not sob. He holds Ahsoka much the same way he held Satine only months before.

“No, not you too.”

Something flickers inside his mind, once, twice. It grows ever dimmer and Ahsoka's grip on his shoulder, ever weaker. A feeble voice inside his mind, It's okay. It doesn't hurt. I'll be okay, Master.

But this time no reassurance, no hand to his cheek, no last confession, nothing, will temper the anger slowly rising in tandem with his grief. He needs a medic. He needs a medic, now. Where's —

Cody!

Obi-Wan doesn't like the expression on the face of his slowly approaching Commander. The furrow of his brow, the emotion in his eyes. He doesn't like that Cody has taken off his helmet and reaches out to hold Obi-Wan by his shoulder as if he knows Obi-Wan needs the physical support, as if Ahsoka is going to —

“Master—”

Obi-Wan turns his eyes back on his Grandpadawan. Hers are barely open, her lips smeared with blood. Obi-Wans eyes catch on the red trailing down her chin and the length of her throat.

Ahsoka catches his eyes and smiles. She tugs on their bond the way she had always done before a battle, up until her last assignment on Caito Neimodia.

She tugs once, twice, three times. His heart squeezes painfully in his chest. He tugs back three times.

He does cry then. For the life she will never have. For the peace she will never experience. For the war she fought and whose final victory she will never reap. For the girl he learned to love as his own.

And even in her last moment, even in pain, even after Hurt and Miscommunication, and Betrayal born out of insecurity and misjudgment, she still worries for others first. For him.

You're safe. You're all sa—

He shushes her. Tired amusement tingles across their bond.

Then,

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale.

You are forgiven, Obi-Wan.

Exhale. The light winks out and as their bond shatters his last remaining one pulls tight with white hot agony.

Cody is all that keeps Obi-Wan upright right then and there.

•

The war is over. They won. So many dead. His lineage torn asunder.

Ahsoka is dead. Anakin won't speak to him. Qui-Gon is dead. Dooku is imprisoned.

Here the river of time finds a stream parallel to the one we know.

Obi-Wan and Yoda at the end of things.

#obi wan kenobi #codywan #ahsoka tano #anakin skywalker #commander cody #idk what came over me #no betaed obvsl #i wrote this just now #it was meant to be a prompt for someone else welp #couldn't let go of it but hey if somebody wants to write the entire thing you're welcome to #just mention where you got the idea lol #writing #the clone wars #tw death #death fic #my writing #text post

176 notes · View notes

clonerightsagenda · 1 year

Text

Ok I swear I will go to bed after this and I have made basically this same post before but while people talk a lot about Vimes' possession by a spirit of vengeance, I love the storyline of Tiffany getting possessed by an entity of desperate desire. She spends the whole book out of her element, struggling to fit in socially, wanting something to hide behind, and the hiver feels the same way. It's formless and helpless without a body to wear, and all it wants is to accumulate whatever will keep itself safe. It doesn't realize what that does to everyone around it. It's our id. It gives us what we want, even when it's not what we need.

And Tiffany gets her body taken over and watches herself threaten and steal and kill, forced to acknowledge that these actions stem from what the hiver sees in her, and when she gets free she pities it. She understands what it means to be scared and alone and ruled by your worst impulses. She gives it a name. She takes its metaphorical hand and helps it through the door. (And then accidentally gets stuck in the land of the dead and has to get dragged back, man Tiff what is it with you and underworlds). God I love her.

#the image of like.... showing the worst parts of yourself mercy and understanding #naming it. looking it full on #like looking at an old coping mechanism or anxiety or what have you #and going you did your job. you got me through the danger #you're maladaptive now and I don't need you anymore #but I will recognize you as a part of me. I will hold your hand as we walk through the door #I'll die a death and then I'll turn around and go back to life #discworld #perpetual perpetual ladies night #i have work tomorrow I need to peel myself off this laptop and stop tiffanyposting

444 notes · View notes

martyrbat · 2 years

Text

where's bruce wayne giving his kids hugs that are a little too tight and a second too long after they let go because who knows when or if you'll be able to ever hug them again

where's bruce wayne who goes to his kid's recitals and school events when he can because he wants them to be able to see their father's face in the crowd

where's bruce wayne who hangs up and says i love you or that he's proud of them or to be safe because it can be the last thing he's ever said to them. the last thing they ever hear from him.

where's bruce wayne who is a nervous, over involved wreck because he knows how cruel the world can be

where's bruce wayne sucking in a breath and shaking anytime the phone calls because it can be the one to deliver fatal news

where's bruce wayne who's eyes water up when he realizes how much his children grown

where's bruce wayne who makes sure all his kids know they can always return back to the manor. for a day, for a lifetime, there's always a room. that they'll always have a place to stay and it'll always be their home too

where's bruce wayne who checks on his kids before going to bed, who visits the empty rooms too just in case and out of habit

where's bruce wayne who bandages his children's scrapes and bruises when theyre 20 because they'll always be his babies

where's bruce wayne who supports his children and let's them know they never have to be alone

where's bruce wayne who had his parents and childhood so violently ripped away from him that now he gets to be what he always wanted - a father.

#he can still have trouble with affection and being two decades behind in therapy but #youre telling me a man who clung to their deaths this rawly isnt trying to be the father he would dream of having still?#its not the same as being a child and having a father of course but ? to be a father and have a child is the other side of that coin #above all else he should prioritize his little birdies i hate dc and comic bros that think hes emotionless #like man has been having a breakdown since 8. he took a vow to risk his life and try to help people in a doomed city purely because he #doesn't want anyone to ever hurt like how he has. to become what he has. to go through what he has. to be alone and as helpless as he was #he just wants to help people. and you're telling me this same man doesnt care about his children?? yea ok.#bruce wayne #good dad bruce wayne #batdad #posts from the crypt #batfam

1K notes · View notes