#forced suicide

[chaotic-orphan]

June of Doom, Day Twenty-four:

I think I’m going to be sick : Bleeding out // illness // cold sweat

CW: blood (explicit), violent death (explicit), hybrid change?, hybrid whump, Whumper turned whumpee, caretaker turned whumper, self harm (explicit), forced to hurt themselves (explicit), forced self harm, suicide, possessiveness, possessive caretaker, gore, possessive whumper

General graphic violence warning, esp blood!!

*~*~*~*~*

“You will kill yourself, Caretaker. Here and now, in front of Whumpee so that they learn not to oppose me again. So they learn not to get any ideas,” said Whumper, throwing down the sacrificial knife. It clattered to the floor in front of Caretaker’s feet but Caretaker’s eyes were only focused on Whumpee.

Whumpee on their knees beside Whumper who had an unforgiving hand laced through Whumpee’s hair.

“How do I know you won’t hurt them if I do kill myself like you ask?”

Whumper smiled a cruel smile. “Oh, I’ll hurt them. I’ll hurt them as much as I damn please. They’re disobedient, and defiant— I think they get it from you. So as soon as you’re out of the picture, little Whumpee here won’t fight me as much, isn’t that right, Whumpee?”

Whumpee said nothing. Whumper wrenched Whumpee’s hair up causing Whumpee to let out a grunting squeak of pain before crying: “yes! Yes!”

“See?” Whumper spat. “Even if your presence they’ve forgotten their training.”

Caretaker’s jaw clenched at the mention of Whumpee’s training. Whumpee didn’t need training, they weren’t a dog. They were a human being.

“Seems like beating people into submission doesn’t have a very good compliance rate. Perhaps a gentler touch would be more prudent?”

Whumper laughed at Caretaker’s suggestion. “You think you’re so big, but all I have to do is hurt Whumpee a little and you fold like a bad hand at the poker tables. So do as I say, or I’m going to hurt Whumpee until they can’t speak properly.”

Caretaker’s jaw set and they huffed out a fine, bending down to pick the knife up from the floor. It was a very nice knife. Sleek, sharp, elegant. All things Whumper was not.

“C-Caretaker…” Whumpee whispered and Caretaker’s heart ached. “Please don’t…”

“It’s okay, Whumpee. Just look away okay?”

“Oh no,” said Whumper. “No, no, no. Whumpee’s gonna look the entire time aren’t you Whumpee? You’re going to watch Caretaker die because you’re the reason they’re in this mess aren’t’cha? Caretaker coming in tryna save you because you’re pathetic and only cause pain—“

“Thats not true, Whumpee,” Caretaker interrupted. “I’m here because I want to be here. You didn’t force me to come. My death is not on your hands.”

“Would you hurry up and kill yourself already?” Whumper asked, rolling their eyes. “Nice and slow if you please, draw it out. I want to burn this memory into Whumpee’s fucking retinas.”

Caretaker huffed, and started rolling up their sleeves. “Wrists good enough for you?” Caretaker asked, tone entirely too sweet and fake.

Whumper waved their hand, “dealer’s choice.”

Caretaker swallowed and nodded, pressing the blade to their wrist. The point of the dagger biting into their skin that connected their arm to their hand. They could feel their veins beneath, their blood pumping.

Fuck. Caretaker looked in Whumpee’s eyes, and said: “I’m sorry,” before they cut hard and deep into their wrist and up their arm with a sharp cry.

“Jeez-zus,” Whumper whistled. “You try that before? You’re mighty good at it. Don’t you think Whumpee?”

Whumpee was silent, tears streaming down their face as they were forced to watch Caretaker swap the blade into their wounded hand and repeat the same motion on their other arm.

“Fuck!” Caretaker gasped after the deed was done, dropping the knife as blood started flowing in a gruesome stream down their arms trailing over the deep gashes and down their hands pooling beneath them. The stench of iron burned through Caretaker’s nostrils and tastebuds, thick and rancid.

“You careless little shit,” Whumper laughed, letting go of Whumpee’s hair and stepping closer to Caretaker. They grabbed Caretaker’s arms in their hands and Caretaker cried out. “Those are deep. Deep deep. Holy fuck, Whumpee you wanna look?”

Caretaker’s eyes found Whumpee’s as they felt the blood slowly draining out of their body. Fuck, they could feel it slipping. Their consciousness, as a sheen of cold sweat ran up their spine and stuck to them like a second skin. Whumper let go of Caretaker and Caretaker’s knees buckled. They fell to the ground, their arms resting on their thighs as blood soaked through their jeans.

Caretaker looked at Whumpee and forced a smile and said: “whumpee, look away.”

“No,” Whumpee cried. “No, no, no. Caretaker! I’m sorry. This is all my fault!”

“Whumpee—“ Caretaker ground out in warning as the last of their strength ebbed from them and they sagged in their slumped position. “Look… away…”

Whumper watched with eager eyes as Caretaker’s energy left their body. Watched Whumpee’s realisation slowly dawn on them and saw them scream and relished in it. They walked over to Whumpee and crouched down in front of them, tipping their chin up with their finger, forcing Whumpee to look at them.

“I told you, Whumpee. No one can save you from me. See what happens when you make friends hmm? They can’t help you. No one can. Why?”

Whumpee didn’t answer, so Whumper’s grip tightened on their chin. “Why whumpee?”

“Because I’m yours,” Whumpee whispered. It sounded like a confession to Whumper’s ears, and it physically shattered the kid in front of them. Whumper could have sang from the rooftops at finally, finally having Whumpee all to themselves.

“Damn fucking right you are.”

The moment of bliss ended when there was the sound of bones cracking behind Whumper. Whumper watched Whumpee’s eyes widen in fear, stuck to whatever was happening behind Whumper and Whumper turned.

Caretaker’s bones were crunching. Their body jerking unnaturally and the blood that was still flowing from their wrists was bubbling, steam coming off of the wound. Caretaker’s eyes flew open, panicking and in pain as they reached down to their wrists clawing at the blood at the skin.

Their deafening screams were piercing Whumper’s ears who winced slightly at the deadly sound. Then as suddenly as it started all stopped.

Caretaker stopped screaming.

Stopped writhing.

Stopped bleeding.

Stopped fighting.

Caretaker’s eyes opened again but it wasn’t human eyes that blinked back at Whumper. Nor was it human teeth that showed when Caretaker’s lips twisted up into an unnatural smirk. They raised a hand which now had claws instead of nails and plunged it into their chest. Blood splattered across the ground and hit Whumper’s trousers, staining them red.

“What the fuck is wrong with them Whumpee?” Whumper demanded, some primal fear seizing their throat as they watched Cartaker plunge a second hand into their chest and pull apart their skin covering their ribcage, revealing muscle and tendons and veins that turned black.

“I… I don’t know,” Whumpee whispered, terrified.

A low guttural laughter erupted from Caretaker’s throat as they tore their skin away, shedding it like a snake and got to their feet.

“Heh heh heh heh heh heh heh, oh it’s been too long since you let me out Caretaker, suicide this time?” A voice that wasn’t Caretaker’s spoke through Caretaker’s black lips. A monstrous smiling voice as Caretaker, no, the Beast currently shedded Caretaker’s skin stood taller than Caretaker. The wet shredded skin slapped to the floor and Whumper and Whumpee could only look up and stare at the black beast that now stood before them.

It was huge. Not just tall but wide, with strong leather like skin from which midnight blue fur grew from in places. Their neck was thick, their face still barely human, with a mane of midnight raven hair covering their head. Their legs were thicker than Whumper’s chest with sheer muscle and their hands had turned to black claws.

“Tell me human,” the beast said, dropping their shoulders and hands and arching their back like a limp giant doll and stared into Whumper’s eyes, hot, steamy breath exhaling from their beast like nose. “What year is it?”

Whumper was frozen to the spot, neck stretched as they recoiled back from the beast and stuttered out a shaky answer. “2023,” said Whumper and the Beast hummed in reply. They moved their head up and peering over Whumper’s shoulder saw Whumpee, and their eyes shone with twisted interest.

“Mmmm… the mortal cares for you, little one,” said Beast, pushing Whumper aside and reaching down to touch Whumpee’s face. Whumpee flinched and recoiled but the Beast just cooed in it’s guttural growling way. “Hush child, I won’t hurt you. My mortal would never let me out otherwise. I’m here to save you where they could not.”

“You won’t touch them,” said Whumper, their voice shrill, but the Beast ignored them as they touched Whumpee’s cheek with a surprisingly gentle hand. Their palm was rough and felt like sandpaper but Whumpee found themselves lifting their hand and putting it over the Beast’s. Their chest still rising and falling heavy.

The Beast lifted their hand and grabbed Whumpee’s, lifting it to cover Whumpee’s eyes with their own hand. “Best you don’t see this,” said the Beast and that was all the warning Whumpee got.

They flinched when Whumper screamed. Warm blood splattering across their face and Whumpee turned away from the noise, hiding in their hands as they heard the squelching of something from Whumper’s body. There was the sound of Whumper’s screams, and the sound of flesh being torn through like a sickle through overgrowth. It sounded as if a pack of vicious dog had found their prey and were feasting on it while it still lived.

Eventually the screams stopped and Whumpee felt themselves being picked up. They were cradled to a warm chest that was humming lowly, something rumbling in their chest like a sweet lullaby. The Beast was warm. So warm. Whumpee went to move their hands from their eyes but the Beast growled softly and Whumpee didn’t.

“So curious, little one,” said the Beast. Whumpee could feel the depth of their voice in the Beast’s chest. Suddenly Whumpee felt the Beast’s hands on theirs and heard the Beast say: “close your eyes.”

Whumpee obeyed. Then they felt cloth on their face and they reached up instinctively but the Beast just hushed them again and Whumpee relaxed as the Beast tied a makeshift blindfold around Whumpee’s head.

“You are too curious for your own good. This is something you mortals don’t enjoy seeing. Trust me.”

And bafflingly, Whumpee did trust them. Then the Beast groaned, the sound enveloping Whumpee’s senses now that their sight was gone. “My mortal wants to speak now. Typical. I do the dirty work. They get the glory… agh, they’re a pain,” the Beast grumbled, pressing a hand to Whumpee’s hair and stroking it gently. “I will see you again, little mortal.”

The Beast put Whumpee sitting on the ground. Then the Beast let out a sad howl and the sounds of bones cracking again, and Whumpee knew Caretaker was changing back.

A gentle hand settled on Whumpee’s shoulder. A human hand. Whumpee looked up but saw nothing. They just smelled the blood and the iron in the air. The body beside them starting to stink in the heat.

“Whumpee. Are you okay?” Caretaker asked, their voice hoarse but very soft and gentle. Like they were trying not to spook Whumpee too bad.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Whumpee mumbled. They felt a hand under their armpit helping them to their feet, and then their arm was thrown over Caretaker’s shoulder and they helped Whumpee walk away from the scene of their abuser’s dead body.

“Okay,” said Caretaker after a while. “You can take the blindfold off.”

Whumpee did immediately. They saw Caretaker in the corner of their eye smile as they saw Caretaker’s shitty little car. “Finally. I’m exhausted,” said Caretaker, walking to the passenger side first and opening the door for Whumpee. Whumpee got in on their own accord, their entire body felt like jelly. They looked at the blindfold in their hand and saw it was a sticky and covered in blood.

Whumpee gasped, dropping it and taking down the sun visor and looking in the mirror to see their face covered in blood, with a thick layer over Whumpee’s nose and eyes.

Whumpee reached a sleeve up to wipe it off but before they could Caretaker grabbed their arm and Whumpee turned to see Caretaker smiling at them.

“Umm… could you not? For… for just a minute? It, uh, the beast, likes it. It’s like a perverse sign of ownership.”

Whumpee didn’t know what to do, so they just nodded slightly and lowered their hand. “Right… uh, yeah. Okay.”

It was nighttime anyways so no one would be able to see it as they drove home. Caretaker started the engine and pulled out of the alleyway, a small smile on their face as they got onto the main road.

It didn’t just make the Beast inside them purr and coo like a happy baby. Caretaker quite liked the sight too, but smothered it down a little inside. Primal beastly urges always remained for a while after the Beast had shown it’s face.

Of course, the Beast said, and Caretaker could hear them rolling their eyes. Blame me.

Caretaker just smiled to themselves and drove on.

#writblr #whump scenario #whumpblr #june of doom #whump fic #whumpee #whumper #whump drabble #whump writing #caretaker turned whumper #whumper turned whumpee #hybrid whump #ish #hybrid whumper #tw blood #tw death #tw suicide #suicide #forced self harm #forced suicide #forced self whump #bleeding out #blood #possessive whumper #possessive caretaker #orphan #orphan writing

[hithertoundreamtof23]

Whumptober 2023 day 2

Prompt- "They don't care about you"

Sinister Strange dreamwalks into Stephen's body.

~~ Excerpt:

Stephen couldn't help but scream when he saw a third eye come out of his reflection’s forehead. Out of pure confusion and terror, Stephen brought his hand against his own head for clarification, finding that he did not have another eye, contrary to his doppelgänger.

“Hello, Stephen,” his reflection spoke.

Whumptober 2023 masterlist

#whumptober2023 #no.2 #they don't care about you #Doctor strange #fanfic #forced suicide #Manipulation #dreamwalking #stephen strange #hurt stephen strange #doctor strange whump #sinister strange #hurt no comfort #major character death #my writing

[lovedeltaa]

gooby and his friend goobert

#sth #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #au stuff #me and my friend gone a little crazy w the illusion stuff in forces #tails works with omega during sonic's absence #he doesn't respond well to sonic 'dying' #sorta lets his bitterness and resentfulness surface #and questions his self worth big time #he's really self destructive and sort of on a 'suicide mission' where he doesn't care if he dies #just that he gets his job done and ends the war going on #also hes like 15 LMAO #anyway dorito engine #luc arte

[necer0s]

I know we’re all having a lot of fun mocking Anime Twink Deathstroke, but can we talk about what an excellent decision that actually is? Among DC villains, Deathstroke has some of the best age progression— his first appearance with the Teen Titans has him in his late thirties, maybe early forties, and recent comics have him look to be at least fifty or sixty. So when you take that in the other direction and put him in his early twenties, it really sells that these are the early days of the DC universe.

Honestly, I’m in love with everything about these villain choices. Lex Luthor might be the obvious villain for a Superman story, but having his first enemies be Amanda Waller and Task Force X— the Suicide Squad? That’s fucking poetry. That’s saying “in an immigrant story, the first enemy is the government”. That is understanding the assignment!

#my adventures with superman #maws #superman #clark kent #amanda waller #deathstroke #slade wilson #task force x #suicide squad

[ballroombastardz]

#suicide squad #ssktjl #amanda waller #twitter #task force x #tfx #harley quinn #dc #dccu #polka dot man #digger harkness #rick flag #the suicide squad #deadshot #king shark #nanaue

[keefechambers]

TASK FORCE X + DND CLASSES

#the suicide squad #tssedit #tss #abner krill #cleo cazo #robert dubois #harley quinn #rick flag #christopher smith #nana'ue #task force x #peacemaker #bloodsport #ratcatcher #my gifs #dungeons and dragons #for ani and brandy

[fancyson]

the leftism leaving peoples bodies as soon as you tell them that bodily autonomy and the right to die includes the act of suicide

#fancy.txt #seeing posts like ''YOU SHOULD NEVER SUPPORT SUICIDE EVER'' my blogger in christ you cannot force people to stay alive #you dont have to ENCOURAGE IT. but you also shouldnt Force Them Not To.

[jasmines-library]

Ask Again Later

WHUMPTOBER DAY 31. Prompt: Forced to choose.

Fandom: Batfam.

Summary: You are being flooded with threats. Text after text after text or headings about how your brothers were going to die if you didn’t make a descision. It was simple. Your life, or theirs.

Warnings: Blood, death, grief.

Word count: 1.1k (I know it’s short I’m sorry but it’s angsty!)

Note: Annd with that the whumptober season has come to an end. I just want to say a huge thank you. You guys are all incredible and the support I have gotten from you all is insane. I’m looking forward to working on requests now and to keep writing my own little fantasies for you all.

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

“Fuck.”

You were stuck. A life threatening decision looming over your head like a dark cloud about five minutes before it is about to rain. Your foot bounced anxiously against the floor as you stared at your phone, rolling it around in your hand. You hadn’t moved much since the first one came through. It buzzed again. With trembling fingers you scanned the words on the screen.

‘Tick Tock, little Bat.’

You weren’t sure entirely how you had ended up in this predicament. One minute you were just going about your business in the manor and the next you found yourself locked up in your room with the message glowing brightly on your screen.

The message was dark and foreboding and no matter how hard you tried to shake it from your mind it came back. They were threatening to kill your brothers. One text after the next filled to the brim of details of how they wanted to carve them to pieces. Fear stuck you like a hammer as they continued to flood in, text after text after text each ending with the same haunting line.

‘It’s up to you whether they live or die. Choose wisely, Wayne. Your time is running out.’

In theory, the choice was simple. It was your life for theirs. And you knew what you were supposed to choose… but there were so many complexities woven within the situation that made it hard to think straight. In hindsight, you would have made the choice in a heartbeat. You would have given your life for theirs any day, but you couldn’t leave them like this not so suddenly. The four of them were away on patrol. Halloween was a busy night for the Bats. With so many people out, it took as many hands as possible to ensure Gotham’s safety. It was your job to monitor the screens, but you were too preoccupied with the text messages.

It was when the picture of Damian came flashing though that things shifted. This was no joke. They had eyes on you and your brothers and had the power to end you all with a with a snap of their fingers

You sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of your nose as you pondered. You knew you would have to make the decision soon, but it was a double negative. Stay, and risk the lives of your brothers, or go and send them into a spiral of sudden grief. It felt so cruel to leave them without an explanation, but it felt even cruller to let them die when you had the power to stop such things occurring.

You always took pleasure in the little details. The way that Damian hid his little smile behind his hand after he had pretended he wasn’t interested. The way that Dick always seemed to hum the same song over and over for days on end until finally he would move into the next and the cycle would begin again. And then there was Jason’s hair that was always just a little bit too long so that it dangled over his eyes and he constantly had to brush it out of his face. You would miss the little moments deeply. Spending time with your brothers was something that you cherished deeply, even if they more often than not contained childish bickering. You smiled at the memories but it quickly morphed into a deep frown.

You had made your decision.

Pushing the chair out from under the table with a groan as it shifted beneath your weight, you reached for a pen and paper and began to write, not bothering to wipe your tears as you scrawled across the page. You wrote six notes. One for each of your brothers, one for Bruce and Alfred.

After you had done that you slid them beneath the respective doors and shrugged in your coat. You sniffled taking one last look at your home before disappearing into the night to seal your fate.

~~

The wind howled against your skin, whipping around your body as you trudged. You had to pull your coat up to hide your face. You knew that if you were seen there was no going back. Your brothers would be able to convince you to turn back. But you knew that wasn’t an option. As your drew nearer to the rendezvous point, your heart dropped.

Then the hooded figure appeared from the building and froze. Taking them in completely. You took a shuddering breath, sending the other two spill in from behind you to surround you. There was no going back now.

Their grip was harsh on your arm as they dragged you through the twisting corridors. They had searched your body for weapons, stripping you of the small dagger you had tucked away in your boot.

They led to a room lit by flickering golden candlelight. The three of them inched you into the middle of the room before dropping their cloaks.

“Begin.” One of them hissed from behind a mask.

And suddenly your body was consumed in a pain so violent that you were forced to your knees.

~~~

“Y/N?” Jason called out. It was unusually quiet in the manor. The lights were out and there was no sign that you were around besides a lukewarm mug of coffee discarded by the computer.

Tim bumped into his brother as he turned the corner. “Have you seen her?” He asked. “I can’t find her anywhere.”

Jason shook his head, concern bubbling up in his stomach. “No.”

“Maybe she’s in her room?”

The two of them barged up the stairs and turned into your room only to find Damian slipping out of your room. The lights were off. You weren’t home.

It was at that fateful moment that Dick came out of his room with shaky hands. He was holding the folded, tear stained paper. He had found the letter. With bloodshot eyes he turned to his younger brothers. “She’s gone.”

The Manor wept that night. No body slept as their body wracked with sobs that wailed throughout the walls. The was a dark hole left that your light had filled. It was as though someone had sniffed out a candle, stripping the vigilantes of any joy and light that they once had. You were gone, and with you your spirit and hope and the Wayne’s would never be the same again.

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY THIRTY

Super awesome Taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

@amaryllis23

#whumptober #whumptober2023 #whumptober 23 #no.31 #forced to chose #batfam x reader #death #grief #suicide note #suicide #jason Todd #Damian Wayne #Tim drake #dick Grayson #jason Todd x reader #Damian Wayne x reader #Tim drake x reader #dick Grayson x reader

[kingoftheu]

Superman fans I am pleased to report: we are so fucking back

many are saying we never even left

#superman #my adventures with superman #dc superman #dc superheros #superheros #metropolis #clark kent #lois lane #jimmy olsen #perry white #daily planet #task force x #suicide squad #amanda waller #slade wilson #deathstroke #animation

[disabledunitypunk]

I am once again thinking about the term "suicide survivors". How it's a term that rightfully belongs to those that lived through a suicide attempt, that literally survived suicide. How instead it means those that lived through someone else's death. How it neans "surviving" in only the archaic use 'survived by" used in obituaries. How suicide "survivors" lived through something that was never going to kill them, that was never even a threat to their life.

How we are only ever a footnote in the stories of others. We're a tragedy that happens to people, a cautionary tale if we die and inspiration porn if we live. How, forever long we do live, we were suicidal, past tense, because it makes people too uncomfortable too acknowledge that suicidality is chronic (whether pathological or environmental).

How everyone wants to do suicide prevention but no one wants to acknowledge the people at the center of it. How it's never actually about our needs - or even about our safety, really. It doesn't matter what trauma or pain we must endure - they'll have us live if it kills us. Never mind social programs to give us housing, food, security, to make us want to live - it's our responsibility to find someone to tell us it's all in our heads and we need meds to fix us, because it's CRAZY to want to die. Make sure the hotlines can all call the cops if we don't comply.

Don't we know how selfish it is to want to not be in pain and be so desperate that we're willing to die for it? Don't we know how selfish it is to not have any access to the things we need to survive? Don't we know that suicidal depression is really our duty to get over, because obviously if we don't take meds that don't work or that make us sick, if we don't submit to medical gaslighting, if we don't "try" to recover, it's not like it's an illness or a disability! It's selfishness, a character flaw.

Don't we know that we're the selfish ones, when they make our struggling, our illness, our deaths, about us and not them?

It's sanism at its most basic. We're not reliable narrators of our own experiences. We're not the main characters of even our own stories. We're there to be a single pretty tear rolling down the cheek of our loved ones. We're tragedy-as-an-object, as an object lesson. "Make sure you pick yourself up by your bootstraps seek help so you don't become an inconvenience for us hurt your loved ones." Even STILL the focus is not on the harm done to yourself, except as a moral failure in that it harms the healthy people around you.

Quite frankly, I'm sick of it. I don't ever want someone to call themselves a "suicide survivor" again who means it not as "I've survived BEING suicidal" but as "I lived through someone else being in so much pain that they took their own life over it". Not when there still exist people that have survived attempts or are actively suicidal. This is our narrative, not one for you to center yourselves in.

I will not go so far as to say your grief is selfish. That would be cruel. But your grief IS about someone else. This is still THEIR story.

It is likewise the same pain, the same trauma, and the same ableism and sanism we face over it, for those of us who have actually survived it, more than it is that of those who have never stood on that edge. It is the same decentering of our own stories when we go through the exact same thing.

It is the same surviving another day of being suicidal, another attempt, and hearing people who have either never been suicidal or simply are not talking about their own survivorship of suicidality, have the audacity to call themselves survivors of something that they never survived. To take something that KILLED someone they love and claim to be survivors of it.

Cancer survivors had cancer. Automobile collision survivors were in collisions. Survivors of critical illnesses or disabling/severe injuries lived through those illnesses or injuries affecting THEIR lives. But suddenly when a deadly chronic illness kills someone, in this one case, the survivors are the ones who watched someone die of it?

Nah. This isn't a mass threat like a shooting or a pandemic, where your life was ever in danger. You're not the survivor. Your grief is valid, and there absolutely needs to be times and places where being a GRIEF survivor is centered, where your healing and well-being is focused on.

But let those of us who we so sick we nearly died for it, or DID die from it, be the center of THAT story.

Dead men tell no tales, so at least have the grace to let the echoes of our voices remain, unspoken over. And for gods' sakes, remember that there are people that DID make it through alive, that we're still talking, that our voices are most important in a conversation about OUR potentially deadly illnesses.

We're still here telling our own tales.

#cw suicide #suicide #suicide survivor #sanism #ableism #psychiatric neglect #psychiatric abuse #anti psych #anti psychiatry #forced recovery

[jesncin]

Did Ma'al ever join the Justice League or is he just messing around?

Maybe he just... Joined Task Force X while hiding he was a martian in order to find a certain big, hot shark boi, only to then spit the bomb and get the hell out of there?

Ma'al is an extremely reserved League member. He'll help if he's needed, but would prefer to live an average human life. I imagine over some arcs he does take over as the Martian Manhunter in the League for a while.

adfasf we've joked about Ma'al joining Task Force X on an undercover mission but I love your take that he'd hide that he was a martian haha brilliant

#askjesncin #martian manhunter #suicide squad #harley quinn #j'onn j'onzz #ma'alefa'ak #jl remix #the shark is otw dw #do you like my suicide squad (2016) character bio lmao #task force x-sona #tags forks eggs

[qnpc04]

i can’t wait for richarlyson to come back . he’s gonna see the mess that fitpac is and fix it in like 10 minutes with his yaoi cupid powers ... and then he’s going to turn around see whatever the hell 4halo got going on and kill himself .

#thinking about how he set up pac and fit on their first little ‘date’ and volunteered to be their waiter and everything #and then like a couple days later i think badboyhalo forced him to be a waiter for his and forever’s ‘interrodate’ #and he was MISERABLE #my number one 4halo hater how i miss you T-T #qsmp #richarlyson #4halo #fitpac #tw suicide joke #tw sui joke

[azraelsghost]

Something about Lanzas motivations for Sandy Hook i dont see talked about often:

In one of his Cultural Philistine videos Lanza mentions that despite being pro suicide, he doesn't have the discipline to kill himself, and would need to get himself into a situation with "intolerable consequences" to get over his will to live, which he likens to an addiction.

From pages 16-17 here: "Th-there’s, I, I can think of two ways that you can choose to overcome an addiction. The first is that you can have the self-discipline to recognize that you need to overcome your addiction, and [...] continue to persist in overcoming it, you’ll, that desire will eventually disappear. And I … I don’t have that discipline.

There’s one other way you can choose to overcome an addiction and that is to allow your addiction to get you into some cir-circumstances such that continuing the addiction would have more, would have much more intolerable consequences than ending the addiction would have. [...] I think that’s the position that I need to be in to overcome [addiction to life]"

Undoubtably, Sandy Hook created those intolerable consequences.

#and that would be ontop of his anti-culturalism #and specifically how he was fixated on how schools manipulate children into culture #and all that #...forcing himself into suicide would be just one among many motives #adam lanza #sandy hook #smiggles #tccblr

[cheesecakethots]

hiii I came across your blog and fell in love with your yandere illumi posts!! <3 can I ask how you think it’d be like if reader actually WAS pregnant and forced to carry the child to term?? if ur comfy ofc!!

ahhh thank you!!

tw// unwanted/forced pregnancy, implied noncon, reader depression, reader su1c1de attempts. this is SAD. just SAD. minimum comfort from this. also you have a baby and you don’t like it

this is the worst possible outcome

i try and kinda base reader off of how i would react in that situation, and my reaction would be BADDDD.

the second you realise that you’re pregnant you’re already making plans to throw yourself off the nearest balcony or down the steepest stairs in the manor. unfortunately, illumi is going to account for this. he’ll probably realise you’re pregnant before you even do, and soon enough the whole manor will be “baby proofed”.

there’s going to be butlers following you every step of the way, anything sharp is taken from bathrooms or your bedroom, even illumi has started to cut your food up for you. it’s extremely demeaning and only settles to make things worse.

you’ll start growing quiet as the pregnancy progresses, first out of spite and then out of genuine sadness. as far as you think, you’re truly just a womb to illumi and his family.

illumi will notice how depressed you’ve gotten, but he’s not exactly a comforting person. he’ll monotonously give you compliments, silently hand you bouquets of flowers, and tell the butlers to prepare your favourite foods as though any of those things are what you want.

occasionally, if his worry starts to grow, he’ll allow you outside into the garden for a couple of hours. he’ll even arrange a little allotment for you to plant your own. you might not even like flowers, or gardening, but the distraction is nice. if not, you can still wander the grounds, as though it can give you some illusion of freedom. it doesn’t.

illumi tells you that during your visits to the garden you’re truly on your own; no guards, no butlers, no maids, and none of his family watching. it’s not necessarily true. he’ll be behind you every step of the way, hidden in plain sight. he once believed you’d start appearing happy when no one was around, proving that it’s all a rouse and that you’re fine. he quickly discovered it wasn’t fake when the first time he watched you in the garden you found a bench and cried on it the entire time.

he starts to convince himself that when you give birth to his child you’ll recover, and you’ll love them and feel less lonely.

you don’t.

the birthing is messy, probably due to your stress, and it’s the first time anyone in the manor has seen illumi so nervous. it may not be obvious to you, but to those who have known him his entire life, it is.

you don’t love your baby. sometimes you can’t bring yourself to even look at it. you know that illumi and his family are going to be training it to be as bloodthirsty and murderous as them, so you tell yourself that there’s no point in even bothering trying to grow close with it.

in all honesty, you’re in for a fucking awful time. illumi might get irritated with your lack of love for your child. he might think another will make you feel less lonely. only when you stop talking and stop reacting entirely does he realise that he truly has broken you.

i don’t really enjoy writing about reader having kids because it would be my worst nightmare. literally horrifying. that’s why illumi is so damn scary, he’s having a child whether you like it or not.

if you do manage to get rid of it before you give birth, illumi is going to be fucking pissed. expect yourself to be taken into the basement for a week, at the minimum.

best case scenario for this is that reader can’t have kids. fuck this shit.

i could potentially see illumi turning away from his family and their insistence for him to have a bunch of kids, but only if your pregnancy was that bad. if you almost died during childbirth, i could imagine him being extremely shaken up about it, and may not want to see you that way again. that a very big if, though.

#tw yandere #tw.yandere #yandere #yanderecore #yandere hxh #yandere illumi zoldyck x reader #yandere illumi x reader #yandere illumi zoldyck #yandere illumi #tw noncon #tw pregnancy #tw unwanted pregnancy #tw forced pregnancy #tw forced marriage #tw: noncon #tw suicide #tw suicide attempts #tw su1cide #tw childbirth

[thequeenofuselessinformation]

Caught in 4K and honestly, same.

#suicide squad kill the justice league game #suicide squad kill the justice league #suicide squad #suicide squad meme #dc #dcu #dc meme #harley quinn #harleen quinzel #deadshot #floyd lawton #king shark #nanaue #george digger harkness #poison ivy #suicide squad imagine #captain boomerang #evil justice league #suicide squad game meme #task force x #dc universe #dc comics

[disillusioneddanny]

I'm Ready to Go DPxDC

TW: suicide

Tim woke up groggy, sleep melding his eyelids shut and a throbbing pain came from his abdominal area. Beneath him he could feel the rock-hard medical bed he was laying on, the mattress having nearly no give to it. Shifting his arm ever so slightly, he could feel an IV needle embedded in his veins. He stayed quiet, though, as he forced his eyes to rip open. The dull lights of torches had him almost immediately realizing where he was as his brain slowly started to kick back on.

He was back in the underbelly of the League of Assassins and could smell the sulfuric stench of the Lazarus Waters nearby. The sharp pain stabbed through his abdomen once again and Tim bit his lip to hold back from the whimper that threatened to escape. 

“Ah, I see you are finally awake, Detective,” a familiar, posh voice said lightly from beside Tim’s head. His eyes whipped over to find Ra’s Al Ghul staring down at him with those beady, leering eyes of his. 

“What the hell happened?” Tim snarled out as he ignored the stabbing pains in his abdomen and forced himself to sit up. 

Ra’s tsked. “It would seem the Widower got his hands on you. But do not worry my young detective, I ensured you were safe and taken care of,” he said with a sly grin that Tim knew not to trust. “You see upon his attack you lost a vital organ and I took it upon myself to remove a few others just so that I could have them for safekeeping,” he said, eyes glittering with glee. 

“Which ones,” Tim snarled out. There was something far too uncomfortable with the fact that Ra’s was just keeping Tim’s organs somewhere. He didn’t trust the Demon’s Head with his body like that and knew that the only reason Ra’s Al Ghul would keep them would be for nefarious reasons. He would need to get rid of them before he left this hell hole.

“Your spleen was the most damaged one. But really I saw no need in you needing to keep your gallbladder and your appendix. You may know that they are simply evolutionary leftovers so I chose to remove them,” he said with a shrug. “As well as a few other things. But that is neither here nor there, you’ll be healed within the next twenty-four hours.”

The vigilante ticked off in his head that Ra’s had taken a few other things from his as well and made a note to figure out just what exactly he had taken from Tim as soon as he could figure it out.

Tim arched an eyebrow at the man. “And why do you say that?” He asked, looking over his body and searching for Ra’s face for whatever the hell he was missing here. Why the hell was Ra’s doing this? What was his plan? His motive?

“Because I have a proposition for you, Timothy,” he said with a smug smile. “Currently you are being fed just enough of diluted Lazarus Water to keep you alive. In twenty-four hours you will be dipped into the Lazarus Waters and healed completely and will no longer be at risk of death.”

“And what’s the catch?” Tim asked, carefully crossing his arms over his chest as he looked over the Demon’s Head. 

“The catch, as you say, Detective, is that you will only take that lovely dip in the Lazarus Water to heal your poor, broken body, is if you agree to be my bride and assist me in creating the perfect heir,” he crooned, leaning close to Tim, placing a pointer finger beneath Tim’s chin to tilt his face up to look at him. 

“And if I refuse?” Tim asked. 

Ra’s shrugged his shoulders. “You will be disconnected from your intravenous line and will be cut off from the Lazarus Waters that are currently keeping you alive. So the choice is yours, die or be healed and be mine. And if you choose death, do not worry my beloved. Your organs will be more than enough for me to create the perfect clone of you.” 

Tim shuddered in horror as Ra’s stared at him with that evil, predatory smile of his and Tim found himself shrinking back in the medical bed. This wasn’t part of the plan. He knew what he was getting into when he had come to Ra’s for help. Knew that asking Ra’s to help him get proof to show that Bruce was still alive, somewhere in the timestead would be tricky. But this wasn’t what he was expecting either. He knew that Ra’s was sneaky and conniving but to force Tim into a marriage with him? Didn’t he care that Tim was barely seventeen?

“Can I have time to think about it?” He asked, staring up at the assassin king with tired, weary eyes. His body felt so, so heavy at that moment.

Ra’s simply leaned forward and pressed a possessive kiss to Tim’s head. “Choose well, my beloved,” he crooned before leaving Tim alone in the room. Tim stared at the wall in front of him, his eyes unseeing as his brain tried desperately to figure out a solution, to come up with some way to get himself out of this situation. 

He was connected to an IV that was giving him enough Lazarus Water to keep him alive. He was apparently missing multiple organs, some which were likely important to keep him alive. If he even managed to break out of the League of Assassins base how long would he last before his body succumbed to its various injuries?  He could live without his spleen, appendix, and gallbladder but Ra’s had said he had taken other things. And that had him nervous. All of his limbs were intact. He pulled the blanket covering his legs to find bare feet intact and there. He wiggled his toes just to be safe.

Tim carefully maneavuered himself to be in a full sitting position to take better account of his body. He looked over his nude body, taking note of the new scar that crossed Tim’s stomach and tried to even his breathing as he realized the emptiness on his chest. The Lazarus Water that was already being fed into his system had already healed all of the incisions, leaving nothing but faint scars in its wake. 

His breasts were gone.

He furrowed his brow as he ran a shaky hand over his now flat chest, taking note that Ra’s had not bothered to have his nipples sewn back onto his body upon his mastectomy. It was a surgery that Tim had been thinking about getting ever since he had come to terms with the fact that he was transgender, but one that he hadn’t decided to get yet due to his own fears of having the top surgery and the long healing process that came with it. 

Now, though, he didn’t seem to have to worry about it. And if Tim was being honest, it kind of made him sad. He had looked forward to the day he would get to tell his family that he was scheduling his top surgery, and looked forward to the feeling of having them removed and the gender euphoria that would come with it. But now he was just sad. Ra’s had taken the decision away from him and that hurt more than he expected it to.

Ra’s likely thought he was doing Tim a favor by removing them himself. Like some kind of morbid wedding gift, or a way to sway Tim to agree to marrying Ra’s. 

“Fuck,” he whispered and looked down at the surgical scar that covered the lower part of his abdomen. Ra’s wanted an heir so it was unlikely he took Tim’s reproductive organs, not only that but it didn’t seem like Ra’s had decided to give Tim bottom surgery as well which likely meant he was wanting to have Tim give birth the old fashioned way and wasn’t that fucked to think about? 

He rubbed his fingers across the scar carefully, still staring at them in horror before looking over the rest of his body, he still had all of his fingers, his ears were both there, and nothing else seemed to have been altered without TIm’s permission.

“Fuck,” he whispered out. “Fuck,” he shouted, slamming the blanket back over his legs and letting out a groan. He had no way of knowing what else Ra’s would have removed from him, no clue how he would get out of here. He was naked as the day he was born, his body was now fully relying on the Lazarus Waters. 

Ra’s had made sure that his options were as narrow as possible. If Tim were to even try to escape he would need to get anything that had his DNA from Ra’s to ensure that a clone wouldn’t be mad. But would he have enough time to do that without being connected to the IV any longer? 

His options truly were death or marriage. 

What a fucking shitshow. 

“I wish I could find at least a third option. Anything would be better than this,” he whispered sardonically. 

“So you wish it, so it shall be,” a feminine voice whispered in Tim’s ear before a soft sigh stirred through the air. Tim whipped his head around for a moment before his eyes landed on the bubbling Lazarus Pit that was not too far from him and his hospital bed. 

He watched as a woman slowly emerged from the pits, a being unlike anything Tim had ever seen. Her skin was the same color green as the Lazarus Pits. her hips ended down to a tail, blue skirt seemed to cover her lower half, and a blue top covered her chest. Gold bangles rested on her green arms along with lilac wrist braces. A light blue tiara sat upon her dark black hair as she floated towards Tim. 

Her hand cupped his face gently as she gave him a sad, soft smile. “My child,” she said softly. “I understand what you are experiencing. Once, many years ago, Ra’s Al Ghul gave me a very similar choice as yours. Before my death, I was a harem girl who had one Ra’s heart and he had promised to grant all of my hearts desires, had even promised me a kingdom of my own,” she said and sadness shone through her bright red eyes as she held Tim’s face. “That was until I was no longer enough for the Demon’s Head wife who learned of our relationship and did what she could to get rid of me. Not that Ra’s tried very hard to protect me from the woman,” she said with a humorless laugh.

“What does this have to do with me?” Tim asked, eyeing the pit demon warily, not sure what to do with this new information. He was unfortunately not surprised by her story, it sounded exactly like something that Ra’s Al Ghul would do to someone.

“Upon my death, my spirit has wandered around forever granting others wishes, yet at a great personal cost,” she said softly. “For that was what happened to me, I was given a gift unlike anything else yet in the end it cost me my life.”

“And you can what? You can grant my wish? Give me a third option to get away from Ra’s?” Tim asked, arching his brow. 

The being nodded her head, sorrow clear upon her face. “I can,” she said softly. “My king, King Phantom, he is unlike anything I have ever seen in my existence. I can have him turn you into a being like himself, if you will allow me to grant your wish, he will appear and he will give you a third option.”

The being gave Tim a sad smile. “I wish that there was more that I could do, but this wish is the only way I can help,” she told him. Tim stared at her for a moment, looking over the being's face, studying her features. If what she was telling him was true, that Ra’s had killed her, she had to have been a ghost. Was she trapped here? Was there any way that he could get her a different place to haunt rather than the fucking League of Assassins base?

“What if I wished for you to be free instead?” He asked and the woman let out a loud laugh. 

“Oh you sweet child, I am free. I can go wherever I would like whenever I would like. I am here because I made sure that no one would suffer the same fate as I did at the hands of Ra’s Al Ghul and his wife. And I will not allow you to suffer at the hands of the Demon’s Head.”

Tim pursed his lips. He had no other options. He knew that this was a risk. There was a chance that this ghost was lying to him about her entire tragic backstory just to trick him into agreeing. But what did he have to lose? He was going to die as it was. His only options at the moment were to marry Ra’s or die and have a clone replace him and neither option was good. Whatever option this ghost was giving him, it had to be better than his current options. Even if she did say it would come at a great cost of its own.

Anything would be better than his current options. 

“What’s your name?” He asked, looking up at the ghost. 

She gave him a lovely smile. “Desiree,” she said softly. “Now, allow me to grant your wish, my dear and let us get you far, far away from Ra’s Al Ghul.”

He nodded his head. “Do it,” he whispered, his heart feeling like someone had clenched it in their first.

Desiree gave him a gleeful smile and raised her hands to the air as green smoke started to fill the room. “So you wished it! So it shall be!”  She shouted before a being started to slowly rise from the smoke and Desiree seemed to completely disappear from the room. 

In her place stood a boy about Tim’s age. He had snow-white hair, glowing green eyes, and lightly blue skin. He looked around the room curiously before his eyes landed on Tim’s face and his head tilted to the side in curiosity. 

“Hm, I’m never part of Des’ wishes anymore,” he said curiously as he stepped forward and continued to look Tim over. 

Tim gave him a wary look. “King Phantom?” he asked hesitantly and a look of annoyance flashed over the being’s face for a split second before he huffed out a laugh. 

“I’m not king anything,” he said as he walked towards Tim and sat at the foot of his hospital bed. “But that’s a story for a different time. Desiree seems to think that I am the one to grant your wish.” 

He looked Tim over for a moment with eyes far older than that of a teenager. It reminded Tim of his own eyes, eyes that had seen the very worst of the world, had seen the very worst of himself and had come back in one piece despite all the odds. 

“The way Des grants wishes has already given me the information I need to make it happen,” he said and winced slightly as he looked Tim over once again. “Death or marriage, what a shitty decision to make,” he said wryly. 

“You don’t understand-”

“I do,” he said, cutting Tim off before the teenager could grow any more indigent at the moment. “I know all about Ra’s Al Ghul and the evil he is capable of. He’s a disgusting worm and I’m unfortunately not allowed to interfere. But what I can do is make it where he can’t get his hooks into you if you so wish,” he said with a small smile, showing little dimples in his cheeks. 

“So what’s the alternative? Desiree said it comes at a great price,” Tim said warily, still eyeing the being up and down. 

Phantom huffed out a breath as he looked over the room they were currently in surveying the cave for a moment. “It does, you’d become like me. You’ve sustained far too much damage to live a normal life ever again but we can work with that. You’ll become something called a halfa. Half ghost,” a bright light shone in the room for a moment and when Tim blinked back the spots in his vision he found a human teenager sitting in front of him. Gone were the otherworldly features, instead he found a dark-haired teenager with pale white skin, blue eyes and rounded-off ears rather than the pointy ones he had before. “And half-human,” he said with a small smile. 

“But the human half, would it be able to survive? I’m missing some pretty important parts,” he said with a wince and Phantom shrugged. “Yeah, your human body won’t be alive because of your heart or lungs or any of that. In its place, you’ll have something much better, much more powerful, and potent running in your veins. It’s similar to the Lazarus Waters but better, purer.”

Tim listened with close attention as Phantom explained ectoplasm to him, explaining how it would replace any part of Tim that was no longer functional. According to Phantom, it was currently what kept him alive as it was. Phantom’s own change into being a halfa had brought him back from the dead, restarted his heart and brain, and kept him going. He explained that he no longer needed to eat or drink as the ectoplasm kept his human body alive. He admitted that he still enjoyed doing those things and was able to do so without any real consequence. 

What he was explaining to Tim sounded like a dream come true if the vigilante was going to be honest. 

He had never been good about taking care of himself. Had always struggled with remembering to eat and hydrate. He went days at a time without sleep and apparently being a halfa would do that for him. 

There had to be a catch, though, there was always a catch and Desiree had already said that much. 

“But the cost?” Tim asked. 

“You’ll be dead,” Phantom said softly, his eyes sad. “You’ll have your human body but you’ll still be a half ghost. You’ll be forced to suffer from obsessions as each ghost does, to bend to the will of your obsessions. Des’ is to grant wishes for others since she never got hers fulfilled. Mine is safety. I died because my parents didn’t care about my safety or the safety of others and now i’m obsessed with ensuring the safety of everyone around me, of protecting them from harm.”

“Like a vigilante,” Tim said with a small smile. Phantom gave him that sad smile. 

“Like a vigilante,” he said with a sigh before he shook his head. “Now, the only other main stipulation to this is that you’ll be bonded to me. But I think a bond with a weird ghost teenager is a little preferable to a marriage with a creepy immortal assassin,” he said before giving Tim a nervous look. “It’s the only real option I have that keeps you mostly alive and not married to the creep. Hell, once we do it, I’ll even help you destroy this place and deal with the consequences of my actions later.”

Tim cocked his head to the side. Marry Ra’s, die and have a clone replace him, or become half-dead and bonded to a ghost he didn’t know anything about. His options were absolute shit but the decision was thankfully easy to make. Phantom’s option at least gave him an out and that was more than the other two did. And even if he was going to be bonded to Phantom, which he had a feeling was a ghost equivalent of marriage, he could see the two of them at least becoming friends after all of this. And maybe Phantom would even train him in his new form once he took it. 

Maybe he could even get Phantom to help him find Bruce. Ra’s was obviously a dead end and was not going to do what Tim needed and Phantom could possibly give him a better perspective on how to find Bruce. He was a ghost after all, maybe he would know more about the situation than any of the living did.

“What do we have to do?” Tim asked, eyeing the human teenager in front of him warily. 

Phantom just grinned, a smile that was still just a little too inhuman for his human physique. “We’ll have to kill you,” he said before looking around curiously. “Do you have a preference on how you die? I died by electrocution and honestly, I can’t recommend it. Ten out of ten would not recommend it.”

Tim huffed off a soft laugh and shook his head. “Can you get me a knife? I can do it myself.”

Phantom frowned at him yet produced a sharp knife from thin air. It was a simple thing with a black handle and a long slim silver blade. It was beautiful and incredibly sharp. Just what Tim needed to get the job done. 

With nimble, sure fingers he disconnected himself from the IV that was currently feeding him Lazarus Water to keep him alive. He hissed as he removed the needle and allowed the arm to freely bleed, it wasn’t like he mattered, he was about to die anyway. 

“And you’re sure this will work?” Tim asked as he took the handle of the blade from Phantom who was still watching him warily. 

He nodded and with a flash of light changed back to his Phantom form. Only now his eyes glowed a bright blue color. “It will,” he said solemnly. 

Tim nodded once and before he could stop himself or talk himself out of it, he took the knife and slid it along the scar that already marred his throat from a previous murder attempt from Jason. He didn’t feel much as the blood slipped from the wound, the knife slipped into his lap but Tim wasn’t paying attention to it. Not when ectoplasm poured from Danny’s body and straight into the gaping wound in Tim’s throat, filling his body and burning him with a power unlike any other. 

It wasn’t life that was now filling Tim’s veins, it wasn’t life that was now forcing his heart to continue beating as sharp pain burned across his throat. It was something unlike anything Tim had ever felt. It wasn’t life, but it sure as hell wasn’t death either. 

It was a magic that was unparalleled. He had never felt anything like this in his entire existence. It felt as if his very molecules were being changed and arranged. Tim had never wanted to die so badly in all of his life. 

He had undergone extreme torture at the hands of mad men, had been nearly murdered by two of his brothers, he had gone through hell and back, and yet nothing compared to the burning, burning, burning pain that was now filling his body.

A gasp escaped his lips and Tim found no relief in the air that now filled his lungs. He wasn’t sure when he had closed his eyes but forcing them to open was a feat unlike any other. 

When they finally split open everything looked different. 

The world was sharper, clearer than it had ever been, he sniffed and nearly cried out at the stench that flooded his nostrils. The putrid sulfur nearly had him gagging and a soft chuckle made its way to his sensitive ears. 

“Yeah the change in your senses is a mind fuck,” Phantom said with a small smile. “Welcome to the halfa life,” he said and held out a hand. Tim carefully took it and finally took note of the change in his own skin color. Gone was the pale white skin that he had gotten from Janet Drake, in its place was a light green colored skin, a pale mint green color. His fingers were now tipped with dark claws that were pointed into tips. 

“I’m green,” he mused, turning his hand this way and that. Phantom snickered. 

“I’ll have to get you a mirror,” he said before a soft smile appeared on his face. “Your ghost form is very beautiful.”

Tim felt his cheeks heat up slightly and he looked up at Phantom, shock covering his face. “T-thank you,” he said softly. Phantom just cracked a grin. 

“You know, I don’t think I ever got your name,” he said and held out a hand. “The name’s Danny, by the way. Danny Phantom.”

Tim took the cold, blue hand in his own green hand and shook it once. “Tim, Tim Drake, or better known to some as Red Robin.”

“Well Red Robin, how about we get the second part of your wish taken care of and then I can whisk you away to learn how to use your new powers before you go back home?” Danny suggested as he got off the bed and floated in front of Tim, his legs fusing together to form a tail. Tim frowned and looked at his own legs before realizing he was no longer naked, no longer covered by the thin, satin blanket that Ra’s had provided for him. 

Instead, he was wearing a different form of his Red Robin suit. The suit was the exact same as his old one, the main difference being that this one was all black and was missing his cowl. He pressed a hand to his face and felt the familiar texture of a domino mask covering his face and a long black cape behind him. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you a mirror when we get out,” Danny told him before he held his hand out once more. “Now let’s go.”

Destroying the labs and finding all of the tissue Ra’s had stolen from Tim’s body had been far easier than he had expected it to be. Danny had turned the two of them invisible and shot beams of ectoplasm at different targets in the lab, destroying pretty much everything in sight. He had then looked at Tim with a wide, mischievous grin on his face and Tim found himself growing more and more okay with being bonded to Danny. 

The two had found themselves flying off into the night with the entire League of Assassins base burning behind them. Danny had flown him through the air, their hands interlocked and wind blowing through his hair until he had gotten far enough away to open up a portal that the two flew into. 

“You know, I think being married to you won’t be that bad,” Tim said with a laugh as they landed on a green island in the middle of a strange dimension. 

Danny spluttered. “What? What are you talking about?” He asked, looking at Tim like he had grown a second head. 

Tim frowned. “You said we were bonded,” he said and Danny nodded. “Which I assumed is the ghostly equivalent of being married.”

At that Danny gave him a disbelieving look before throwing his head back and letting out a loud laugh. “Oh Ancients, no, no! I’m only seventeen! I’m not ready for marriage.” Now Tim felt dumb. He frowned as Danny stepped towards him and ran his fingers through Tim’s wispy white hair. “We aren’t married, Tim. Bonding is something between an adult ghost and a baby ghost. Basically, our cores are bonded together, since you’re a baby ghost still you don’t know how to regulate your ectoplasm, change forms, or well, be a ghost. My job is to help you do all of that until you’re sure that you can survive on your own without my assistance. If you’re hurt or in trouble, your core will call out to mine and I can come and help you with whatever it is. And then when your core has fully developed and you can handle your powers on your own, the bonding will fade.”

Danny bit his lip and gave Tim a small smile. “If it’s any consolation, I do think you’re very pretty and a lot of fun. But I would never try to force someone into a marriage. Especially not after they were just told that their only options were to marry a creepy ninja assassin who’s like eight hundred years old or die and have a clone replace him.”

“You think I’m pretty?” Tim asked dumbly. The events of the day were starting to catch up to him and he would be the first to admit that it had made him a little dumber than usual. 

“Very,” Danny said seriously. “Now, why did you go to Ra’s Al Ghul in the first place?”

Tim let out a breath and explained to his new friend what exactly was happening and Danny just grinned evilly. “What is it?”

“The ghost of time owes me a favor, come on,” he said and took Tim’s hand once more. Tim felt his stomach flutter as the two flew through the purple skies. Maybe being a halfa wouldn’t be too terrible, especially if he had Danny at his side.

#dpxdc #danny phantom #red robin #dead tired ship #tw: suicide #forced marriage #dis writes #dis dreams