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lomltrentarnold · 5 months

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i think you’re pretty — trent alexander-arnold ₊˚ෆ

🍓 hana’s notes: in ma feels again (shocker) haven’t written anything in a while so please be nice <3

disclaimers: lil drabble, cliffhanger (you have been warned!) reader is a little insecure, but reader can pull girls and guys, childhood bestfriends my beloved trope 🫶 || main masterlist

“Wait, actually? You don’t think people think you’re pretty?”

You don’t even know how the conversation ended up on this topic. Sitting at the balcony catching up with Trent after you moved away. Now, he’s a big shot footballer and you’re working to get your degree.

Fifteen year old you guys would be proud.

You shook your head, it's not a new thought for you, “Nah, but that’s okay though. I think I’m pretty, but I don’t know if I am someone’s hallway crush or people just look at me and think — Wow, pretty.”

This is the type of stuff that you only spill on your diary, but it’s Trent, and he knows more about you than you do yourself.

It’s not something new you have come to terms with, after seeing most of your friends' getting crushes, getting hit on, going on dates and having relationships except you, you have made peace with it.

Trent’s forehead creases, as if the statement offended him more than you, “That’s crazy, tha’” Trent could not believe what you just said. You? Not pretty? Are you insane?

Turning your head to face him, you warmly smiled, “Don’t pretend, T.” and when you look at Trent, taking in his features, now this is pretty. “You’re pretty. People think you’re pretty.”

You didn’t know why you decided to say that. Maybe because the moonlight illuminates his skin and eyes, making him shine a little bit brighter. Butterflies swarm your belly, as your hand sweats.

Trent’s cheeks went warm, he thinks he’s the luckiest person ever to get compliment from you. His heart aches for you, but he decided to focus on the task at hand first.

"That's stupid." he spat out, making your eyebrows shoot up.

You lightly chuckled, "Excuse you? I just gave you a compliment."

"Not that." he sighed, turning his body around so that it would be face to face with yours. You noticed the disturbed look in his eyes, as you straightened your back before meeting his gaze.

"It's not that serious T, I'm fine." you assured him, an awkward laugh bubbling out. This took a serious turn, and you have no idea why.

"Do you remember James? In 8th grade?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, "The one that gave me chocolate? Yeah, what about him?"

He took a deep breath, "He said, and I quote, that when you laugh, he can honestly melt because you look so pretty.”

"We were kids, sometimes kids just say stuff-"

"And I agreed with him, and I said that making you laugh is probably one of the most rewarding things I can do because I love seeing you smile so much. You look so pretty when you laugh like nobody's around."

Your heart stuttered, but before you said anything else he continued, "And remember the girl that you worked with at the cafe down the road? The one with curly hair?"

You nodded your head.

"When I was waiting for you to finish your shift, she noticed how much I was looking at you, and she said that she gets it, and that it's sometimes hard to focus on making the drinks because you would look so pretty smiling while taking people's orders."

You cleared your throat, “That’s- That’s very nice of her.” avoiding the words that makes you question you and Trent’s friendship.

His tongue pokes out to lick his lips, making your eyes focus on it, “Sometimes I look at you and I go blank because of how pretty you are.”

What the fuck? What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.

Your eyes searched for his, but he pointedly avoided it, choosing to stare down on his hands.

After finishing the story, Trent bellowed out a laugh, "You know how many people ask me for your number because they think that you're pretty?" he paused, "But they backed away because they 'know' that you're already someone's because of how I look at you."

Your mouth gaped open and close like a fish, slowly processing everything that he's telling you. "What?"

"They said that I look at you like I was smitten. Like I was in love." you were sure your pulse stopped for a second, hearing the guy that you had a crush on for years saying stuff you hear in songs.

Trent’s mouth was faster than his brain, he really should have stopped talking, but he couldn't. All of his words were all vomiting out of his mouth. He could feel his heart beating out of his chest.

"And then I said that if I was going to fall in love with anyone that I'd want it to be you."

hehe love yall <3

#THIS IS PERSONAL LOOK AWAY #literally a vent write #haha……#no but you guys are so so so pretty #i kinda blanked out on trent's dialogue cause honestly i dont even know what i wanna hear in this situation #this is for me and my girlies who thinks that they're not pretty #me and my girlies who are surrounded by pretty people and think that people wont look at us because they have someone else to look at.#this is for me and you #i dont really know how to end this rip #hana writes!#trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander imagines #trent alexander x you #trent alexander arnold #taa x reader #football x reader

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gummi-ships · 5 months

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Kingdom Hearts Dream Drop Distance - Traverse Town

#kingdom hearts dream drop distance #khddd #traverse town #scenery #my gif #trying my hand at giffing the worlds of this game despite the lack of a first person view (something i'm very upset about)#so i have to obtain and edit these shots in a very awkward manner #all while constantly being shoved around by my dream eaters #i'm so serious when i say making this set was really really frustrating lol #i can't find a free roaming camera mod or anything else that would be helpful for me #but i'll keep at it because i love looking at still shots of video game environments #and being able to share it with other people who enjoy it too #ANYWAYS traverse town is so beautiful in this game they added so many gorgeous areas with pretty glowing lights #i like the wacky whimsical mail room too and how there's this entire secret workshop hidden beneath that weird mailbox haha #the world really does feel magical and dreamy especially with its updated music #just realized the stars in the first gif are moving which is strange

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faeriekit · 2 months

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Health and Hybrids (XIX)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWO is here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here PART TWELVE is here PART THIRTEEN is here PART FOURTEEN is here PART FIFTEEN is here PART SIXTEEN is here PART SEVENTEEN is here PART EIGHTEEN is here...nineteen...oy vey.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... THE BART RETURNS! The earth rejoices! 🥳🎉 Physical therapy can be fun, even if it usually isn't!

Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Danny learns a few more words with practice.

Foda is simple. If Danny is hungry, he can ask for foda. It sounds exactly like food, and when he asks, they feed him.

…Or they up his IV. Which. Danny’s tongue might still feel sore and nasty, but the doctors and nurses and millions of minders don’t seem that mad when he sticks his tongue out at them. Sometimes they even laugh.

They don’t even sound all that mean.

It takes Danny a good chunk of waking time for him to realize that he…probably is hooked up to something he doesn’t want to think about, since all the efforts of lifting and moving him haven’t resulted in a single bathroom trip since he woke up here.

Firstly: horrible.

Secondly: his legs are super, absolutely, positively immobilized, and if someone doesn’t give him enough medication quickly enough after it wears off, Danny is very aware that something is deeply wrong with them.

So. Uh. That’s…gross.

He learns bealo just as quickly. He isn’t sure what bealo means, per se, but when he says it, they up his medication until Danny can pretend he doesn’t have any legs again.

God niht is goodnight, unless Danny is feeling snippy, and then it’s just niht.

…The one lady who minds him always says the whole thing, though. Even when Danny’s mean. Like the one time he threw his rocket at someone.

Or the time he started ignoring everyone when they tried to touch him.

…Or the one time he tried to freeze his IV bag, and put everyone on alert because if he’d been human, that would have seriously hurt him.

“Sorry,” Danny’d whispered, even if it wouldn’t mean anything to her.

She’d patted his hand and meant it. Danny’d had to dry his eyes with his wrist. “Eall es wel.”

Anyway.

Danny hates being in the freaking bed every hour of every day. So when his “sitting up” exercises turn into “hey, let’s try the wheelchair” practice, Danny gets so excited-slash-nervous that he kind of feels like he’s going to throw up all the liquids he’s been injected with.

None of the regular people try to lift him. Instead the lady does it herself, scooping Danny up in very strong arms, the golden cuffs on her wrists weirdly warm on Danny’s skin. When Danny’s settled, his legs sticking out real weird and his back kind of sore, he’s…out of bed.

He’s. He’s not in bed anymore.

And. Sure. It’s temporary, but it’s not the bed. Danny can wriggle, and he can sort of palm the wheels underneath him with the heels of his shaky hands, and he can see so much more of himself than he has in ages and ages.

For one. Both of his legs are in casts. That’s. Not good. He can’t feel it right now, but the sight of fully encased legs…

Well. If he can transform that won’t be a problem. If. If he has to escape. But it is…it’s super scary. He mostly remembers being captured, but the…the other people had been focusing more on his thoracic cavity and his face and head.

…So why are his legs so bad? Did something else happen?

(It did, didn’t it?)

(…Didn’t it??)

His hands shake, but there’s something to all that grip training, or else Danny wouldn’t be able to paw at his neckline to look down his own shirt. Or, well, his cloth nightie, anyway.

It’s good that he looks, since, well…his chest is glowing a solid green.

Whatever should probably be scar tissue. Uh. It…isn’t. There’re gouges down his chest and a crater where his heart should be that probably should be healing over, considering, you know, he’s not freaking dead at this exact second (mostly??), but. Instead of, like, healed flesh, or, say, his insides, there’s a transparent green…jelly… holding him together.

He can see how the green bounces with his heart beat.

...Danny drops the neckline of his gown. His breath comes in choking bursts, eyes pressed into his eye sockets—he feels sick.

He is sick. He has been sick.

The humans are keeping him here because he’s a freak of nature and he’s broken from head to toe and the Guys in White carved his flesh out of his body and opened him up like a can of cranberry sauce.

He presses his hands to his chest, to his stomach, just trying to breathe for long enough that he doesn’t throw up his oatmeal and occasional juice and IV nutrition onto the pristine floor of his sickroom. The people around him all make sympathetic noises that don’t help because he doesn’t know what they mean.

And then he feels something weird.

Not all the sensation in his fingers are back. It’s easier for him to feel impediments than it is to feel textures—something that blocks him from moving, rather than anything sensory-specific. He can usually tell when he touches fabric, because when he moves too far, it pulls tight around his hand. He can tell when he’s on something solid when his hand fails to go through it.

There is something solid sticking out of him.

Danny’s heartbeat quickens. It’s not. It’s. There’s something in him.

And it’s not—it’s so solid. When Danny brushes his hands against it, he can feel his skin and his flesh move with it, trying not to dislodge the thing embedded in him. It pulls at his skin. He doesn’t know what it is.

His fingers tremble as he tries to brush over the object through his gown, trying to figure out its shape from faulty touch alone. It’s like waking up to find himself jammed with needles all over again.

People are talking around them. Danny doesn’t try to listen in. He’s scared. He’s so scared. Something’s happened to him, and he didn’t even notice.

Some of it is—hard. There’s a crinkling sound when he moves. Danny manages to pull his gown neckline back again to catch something of a glimpse, and all he sees is plastic.

He doesn’t know what it is.

He doesn’t know who to ask. He can’t understand anyone and he doesn’t know if he trusts them.

They put something in him. There’s something embedded in him.

He thinks he’s going to cry.

Something touches his arm—Danny flinches. His core tightens with stress as he puts a metaphorical hand on the button, ready to run and hide at any notice.

It’s the lady. He knows her.

No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t know her at all. He can’t talk to her in any way that matters. She’s not a doctor. He doesn’t know why she’s here, or why she’s keeping him here.

She’s nice. She fed him. But is that all it takes to trick him? To make him compliant? Pliable?

She stops touching him when he gets scared, her eyes worried. She kneels—closer than Danny would like, probably, but she keeps her hands to herself. Danny’s heart races faster, out of order, starting and stopping and starting again like a bad engine.

“Eow eart wel?” she asks from his left arm rest, a common question, so softly. Danny doesn’t know what it means. “Eall es wel. Ænlic eow, ænlic me. Bruce bræð wið me?”

She takes a big, deep, breath. Her hand rises slightly over her chest, following an exaggerated movement. Don’t panic. Breathe. Breathe like me. One, two, three.

Danny’s breaths are more choked. More panicked.

But when she breathes, he breathes with her—even with every stutter in between.

“Hwæt es woh[O3] ?” the lady asks, so gently it’s almost a whisper. Her pointer finger hovers over his body, but doesn’t touch—and eventually, Danny figures out she probably wants to know where he’s hurting.

But he’s not hurting. He’s scared. There’s something inside him, and he isn’t sure what it is. He presses the heel of his hand to the object. He feels something rigid refuse to bend inside his flesh.

There’s something of recognition in the woman’s face. “Inne cwic tima,” she says, more certain of answers outside the room, and darts away,

Danny wants to bounce his bound leg. He feels awful when anyone is in the room with him, considering how little of them he knows, but, somehow, it’s so much worse when he’s actually alone.

When she comes back, there’s a second person who walks through the double doors with her, in blue scrubs with ducks on them. They wave to Danny.

Danny…blinks. He feels numb. It’s kind of a problem.

They take it in stride, though; in their hands is a blank board and a chunky marker. The cap comes off, the new person scribbles for a minute or so, and then turns the board around so that Danny can see.

It’s a…person. A rudimentary outline person, sure, with some visible bones and organs to fill in the person-shaped outline. Danny can recognize most of them from anatomy class, although those memories are more…personal, now. A little more painful.

The person taps on the board. The person points to Danny.

Danny frowns.

The person turns the board back around and makes some Pew, Pew, Pew! sounds with their mouth, occasionally opening and closing their hand over the board to match the noise. There’s some more scribbling. When the board turns back around, there’s a violent smudge of marker on top of the drawn person’s drawn intestines.

The person takes their covered pinky finger and erases a little neat circle of marker in the intestines, mostly favoring one side. They draw a little arrow from the hole to the general outside-of-the-person blank area. Then another circle, with a thicker circle inside.

Danny recognizes the object jutting out of him. Oh. This is how he got it.

The person—probably a doctor, Danny guesses, or the surgeon who did this to him—do these people even need credentials, actually?—hands the board over to the lady. They hold out ten outstretched fingers, marker under their arm, and make a show of counting every one of the outstretched fingers with the opposite hand. Then they take the board back.

And then, when they write on the board, Danny can actually understand what they say.

Or, well, it’s numbers! The numbers are the same as his—the line and a circle is clearly meant to be a ten, and the little x is a multiplication symbol— they draw a 10, as clearly and a brightly as it could be against a stark white board, and add a little x 7, probably to indicate a week; the result is ten suns times seven, or seventy suns.

Danny feels his heart bounce in his chest. Danny would bet a whole lot of money that the number is meant to be seventy days. There is an end point. It’s not that Danny is free to be subjected to random anatomical whims—there’s a goal here. This was purposeful.

The little circle-within a circle gets erased. The hole is scribbled through as if it was never there, and the person makes a weaving gesture with the marker that Danny is certain is meant to be sewing.

Tears prick at his eyes. The lady gets close by him again, but Danny lets her. His hands aren’t good enough for wiping tears the way he wants to, yet. Help and company are good.

She gives him a tissue from Danny's bedside table. He takes it with a whisper of a grip.

“Seventy?” Danny rasps, tearful. Hopeful. Terrified of hope. He practically jams the tissue into his eye sockets.

The lady’s eyes go wide. “Seventy,” she repeats, marveling.

It’s enough. Nothing is perfect, but it’s enough. And if Danny's allowed to spend so long in front of the space window that he falls asleep in his wheelchair, well. It's not like he was in charge of where they went.

#*hip checks through the door* hey losers! Guess who uses Arabic numbers!! Two earths!!#also if ANYONE is shitty about stoma bags or ostomy bags on this fic or in this chat I'm going to fight you. Lots of people have them.#they're usually a temporary procedure and even if they're not they're pretty normal and a lot of people have them. I knew at least one #like haha this is a body horror fic but ostomy bags are a REAL THING that people HAVE as part of their medical journey DO NOT be rude!!#So what we know of his injuries now: messed up legs. Messed up guts. Messed up chest. Is there more...? Who can say. 👀#health and hybrids #dp x dc #dcu crossover #tw gore #tw medical #tw body horror #dpxdc #dcxdp #danny phantom #incarceration to elopement to healthcare pipeline #His healing is speeding up and his language is getting better! When can we get a Diana POV?? <- me to me

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paimonial-rage · 10 months

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why he rejected you (pt 1)

characters: albedo, alhaitham, ayato, baizhu, bennett, childe, chongyun, cyno, diluc, gorou, heizou synopsis: you finally gathered up the bravery to confess your feelings, but much to your dismay, they turned you down. but you deserve to know the reason, right? notes: i'm going about this in alphabetical order, so hopefully part 2 coming hopefully sooner than later

Albedo - Preoccupations

Albedo is many things, but if there’s one thing he’s not, it’s attentive. He is a man with many interests, and thus research and experimentation take up much of his time. If you’re unwilling to claim some of his time as your own, you can’t blame him if he goes days and even weeks without showing his face before you.

Alhaitham - High Maintenance

It is foolish to go into a relationship with Alhaitham expecting never-ending affection, romantic dates, and the works. Alhaitham, at his core, is a simple man. He is not the emotional sort, nor is he the most affectionate. Thus, he sees no point in entering a relationship with a person that wants more than what he is willing and able to give.

Ayato - Lofty Eyes

It’s safe to say that Kamisato Ayato is not the easiest person to read. If there is one thing that’s plain to see, however, it is that barring his close associates, there is a wall between him and everyone he interacts with. Oftentimes people wonder if it is due to his job or his secretive personality, but the truth is much simpler than that. Most people, including you, simply aren’t worth his time.

Baizhu - Set Path

For those that visit him regularly, it is quite easy to become comfortable around Dr. Baizhu. Though his medicines are often bitter to the taste, he is not. With kind eyes and a soft voice, it’s easy for one’s heart to be lead astray. But don’t be fooled. Dr. Baizhu is waging a war against fate, and it is to this battle that all his attention and energies will be expended towards.

Bennett - Burdens

Though he may have said yes to you at first, don’t expect it to last long. Sad to say, Bennett is well aware of his unluckiness. No matter how much you try to assure him that it is okay, if he sees his unluck beginning to bleed onto you, there would be only so much he’d be willing to take. It’s okay, though. You deserve better. His burdens are not meant to be yours to bear.

Childe - Spark-less

It’s always easy to see when Childe is fascinated with someone. His ocean-blue eyes light up with excitement whenever they come around. Such people represent a challenge, a dangerous mountain he can scale and overcome. You, however? You do not spark such excitement. Really, you’re not even a rock within his path.

Chongyun - Self-control

Only those that are close to him are aware of the burdens pure yang energy puts on Chongyun. Losing control is terrible. Depressing. Humiliating. Even if he did like you, the thought of losing himself to the way you make his heart beat and face flush is… it’s horrifying. He’d never forgive himself if he hurt you in the process. So it’s just better to stop this, whatever this is, before it even starts.

Cyno - Safe

He has no reason to tell you no lol.

Diluc - Love

Diluc would never admit that he is a soft person. You did not get under his skin, nor did your lovely charms grow so heavily upon him. Turning you down didn’t hurt because you do not matter to him. He does not think it’s because his life is dangerous as it is. He does not pay attention to his guilt at the thought of you worriedly waiting for him every evening. He doesn’t think you deserve more, someone able to show their love for you more than him.

Gorou - Self-sacrifice

Having been raised in a place like Watatsumi Island, Gorou is no stranger to war, hunger, want. He was always taught the importance of sacrifice, a lesson that was even more emphasized upon becoming general. While things have gotten better since the war has come to pass, he is well aware that this peace may not last. This is not the time for distractions.

Heizou - Contentment

Safe to say, there are not many things Heizou is missing from his life. He has a great job that’s exciting and interesting, he has friends and family he can rely on, he’s able to work toward and achieve his goals—he is not in need of much. Really, any more and there’d simply be much too many things on his plate!

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #albedo x reader #alhaitham x reader #ayato x reader #baizhu x reader #bennett x reader #childe x reader #chongyun x reader #cyno x reader #diluc x reader #gorou x reader #heizou x reader #ask me about literally any of these and i will explain haha #esp ayato #alhaitham ayato cyno and heizou are my favorites from this bunch #such interesting people #chongyun is honorable mention but his is pretty easy to understand

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jade-of-mourning · 3 months

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sorry sometimes i think about mako and my heart hurts so much. this kid raised himself and his brother on the streets in homelessness and utter poverty from eight through fifteen, promptly after seeing the violent death of his mother and father. he turned to the triple threats because they couldn't survive as a pair of wretched kids without any adult support, and the environment forced him to turn into the exact character that killed his parents in a terrible twist of irony. and after sheer-fucking-luck hits and they aren't homeless anymore, their livelihood wavers on the outcome of what's a literally game to everyone but them; and after things are finally starting to look up and their team is going places and things just might be okay, his gradually stabilizing world unceremoniously expands and everything goes to shit.

and the city that chewed him up and spat him back out, ruined him as a child and took away his ability to stay afloat in a true sense of normalcy as an adult — when it's on the verge of destruction and falling to pieces before his eyes, he gives himself to save it with the full expectation to die. he went from the kid who didn't and couldn't care about anything outside of himself and his brother, to finding redemption for his younger self in his police work despite its injustice against him, to willingly sacrificing himself to a world that had never loved him.

he's a desperate people pleaser, socially and emotionally stunted for the adult he had to be as a kid, unable to navigate interpersonal relationships easily yet still trying his damned hardest. he's intensely and entirely devoted to the things that matter to him and for so long it was only him, bolin, and ensuring their survival — yet by the end, that devotion has expanded to protecting the rest of the world. he starts out entirely self-reliant and ends in trusting the people he cares about to know their own needs, to be able to take care of themselves, to be okay without him despite having spent so much of his life defined by his role in others' well-being.

just. what the fuck i'm such a big fan of this fictional guy and i'm unashamed about it at this point. also let him cry please (if you won't i'll do it i'll let him cry)

#lychee's brain trash #mako lok #mako tlok #sorry for the shitpost i don't do a lot of those i realize #how tf did this guy not had a massive break down in canon at any point #nd like;; he never shows resentment for the unfairness of it all #he doesn't ever use his past to excuse any of his choices/actions that are influenced by it #which is pretty intrinsically linked to his relationship fumbles #he just quietly holds himself accountable and probably mildly despises himself haha #as much as i don't care for the love triangle it really does make complete sense in accordance to his backstory #anyway this is just a roundabout way of me expressing my salt at people writing him off as a malicious asshole lol #i literally cannot articulate the intense complex things his conjured up existence makes me feel #this does not even scratch the surface there is SO MUCH #i need to actually write the fifty fics that exist to my brain otherwise all these thoughts will never see the sun #trust that one day the avatar!mako au will emerge from my drafts;;;#and. you know. that one shot i've had in wip for the past 2.5 years #and the four other oneshots that will probably never be converted into actual words

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salarymanwaka · 1 year

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Jamais Vu : Life on Mars Astronaut Yoo Joonghyuk (38) washes up on the shore of an unknown planet where he meets an unknown lifeform impersonating his dead lover.

script (sample) twitter art/lore compilation

cover picture for a sci-fi romance manga I've been working on!

#omniscient reader's viewpoint #orv #omniscient reader #yoo joonghyuk #kim dokja #joongdok #중독 #중혁독자 #the postype script sample is pretty embarrassing to look at now but i was hoping to rewrite it into some kind of prose format #and release it on AO3 or something soon...a lot of people have been asking me about this since 2021 i'm sorry #i'm not a very good writer and i've never written a fanfiction before haha so everything is a struggle #i finished the script back in mid-2021 but the comic is close to 200 pages so i have just been working on it...at snail pace...#i hope it can be a fun work to read one day!#my art #jamais vu AU

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lovewingburb · 3 days

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wolfcat yuri ft jordana and cinder siblingism cinder is the most annoying older brother ever

#i can imagine arin&wyldfyre being like haha sora nice job catching jordana off guard #and sora’s like. wgat i just think she’s super pretty i love girl s….. girlfail loser lesbians #ninjago #ninjago fanart #lego ninjago #ninjago dragons rising #ninjago sora #sora ninjago #ninjago jordana #jordana ninjago #ninjago cinder #cinder ninjago #wolfcat #techwolf #i can’t rember what most people call their ship name it’s one of those two #let’s go lesbians

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megaerakles · 17 days

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To Whom It May Concern

Tim couldn’t stay.

No matter what Bruce had said when he caught Tim in the act of laying the paper trail to establish his Fake Uncle, no matter how long Dick had sobbed into the phone at him during an inordinately expensive long distance (read: off planet) phone call, no matter how much Alfred had been fussing over him and insisting it was no trouble at all to care for him since Tim’s scheme had been revealed and promptly foiled, it just didn’t change the fact that Tim couldn’t stay. Truthfully, the Wayne family’s apparent sudden burst of affection for him actually made this whole thing worse because somewhere along the way, without even trying, Tim had failed to keep things wholly professional between them and somehow tricked them into thinking he belonged in their family!

He couldn’t let it stand. For the sake of Jason’s memory, for the sake of preserving the sanctity of the true Wayne family, he had to stop this… this absurdity of pretending that Tim belonged with them from continuing! Tim had to run. Tim had to vanish. It was the only way to make things right again. Sure, the thought of never seeing any of them again, the thought of being done with Bruce and Alfred and Dick and Barbara and everyone in his life he currently held dear once and for all made it feel as though his heart was being ripped out of his chest only to be shoved back down his throat to stop the flow of air into his body—but it didn’t matter. He didn’t matter, not nearly as much as they did. This would be for their own good.

Tim was leaving, and it turned out to be easier than he thought it would be in the end. Not emotionally easier, but logistically easier. Bruce had been extra attentive lately, so he thought he’d have to fake an injury and get ‘benched’ so that they would lower their guard long enough for him to slip away. But by some divine stroke of luck, a new player had waltzed onto Gotham’s criminal scene not too long after Tim’s Fake Uncle plan fell through and started making threats against Batman and Robin. They had apparently freaked B out enough to prompt him to send Tim off to Titan’s Tower to ‘focus on his team for awhile’. Tim had accepted the command with the requisite amount of complaint, planted some fake texts to make it look like he’d actually communicated to his Team that he would be there, shoved everything from his guest room in the Manor that he couldn’t bear to part with into a duffel bag underneath a spare uniform, gave Bruce what only he knew was a more emotionally charged nod goodbye than usual, and then poof. Tim Drake was zapped out of the Batcave for the last time ever.

He let himself have one night in the Tower. Partly to catch a few hours of sleep in a familiar and secure environment, but mostly so he could clean up his room for its next occupant, sweep his belongings and his person for any extra trackers, and repack his bag more efficiently. He also took the time to grab a spare backpack and fill it up with emergency rations. While he was taking plenty of cash, he didn’t want to risk having to go into stores with security cameras for a while, at least until he’d cleared a suitable distance from San Francisco proper as well as implemented the first of his many planned disguises. He didn’t think a bottle of cheap hair dye and some colored contacts would be enough to fool Oracle indefinitely, but if he was appropriately cautious it might keep her from getting a confirmation of his location long enough for the Bats to either get bored looking for him or to actually realize they were better off without him around.

When the early rays of dawn started to bathe the sides of Titan’s Tower in ember colored light, he was off. He left behind seven trackers pulled from his clothes and bag and one more from behind his ear; he’d kept the one he noticed in his favorite pair of sneakers because it was a type that wouldn’t start transmitting data until the Bats actively started tracking it and he was hoping to find someone who wore his size at the bus station he could pay to wear them so he could throw them off for even longer. If all else failed, he would just toss them in an out of the way trash can. He had also left a letter of resignation for Batman that he’d whipped up based off of an online template, signed and sealed and awaiting discovery atop the pillow in his nearly empty dorm room (he had tried for something more personal, a longer note of explanation for Bruce about why he couldn’t stay despite being asked, but—the words just wouldn’t come, and he’d been running out of time). His bag was heavy, courtesy of all of the extra supplies he’d grabbed in anticipation of having to evade not only Batman’s team but the rest of the Justice League. His heart was heavy, courtesy of emotional baggage that he wished was as easy to unpack as his actual bags would be when he finally found somewhere to settle.

He boarded the first bus he saw after he’d gone a few blocks and took a seat towards the back, where he leaned against the window and stared back at the iconic giant T that he used to belong in, however briefly, until it disappeared from sight. And just like that, Tim Drake’s life as Robin was over.

—

To Whom It May Concern:

This letter is to formally notify you that I’m resigning as Robin in Gotham City, effective immediately.

Thank you so much for the opportunity to work with you all for the past three years. I’ve enjoyed getting to know the team and appreciated the opportunity to learn about vigilantism and hone my detective skills. I’m excited to take these skills with me as I pursue the next step of my career.

During the past two weeks, I have done everything possible to wrap up any ongoing cases and leave no unfinished business. The Robin suit as well as my spare have been cleaned and placed in the armory of Titan’s Tower along with any gear I have been issued.

I wish Batman and team the best, but am afraid I will be out of contact for the foreseeable future.

Sincerely,

T. J. Drake

—

Red Hood stalked into Titan’s Tower with all the grace of a wildcat closing in on its prey, his vicious smirk hidden by his helmet, his unauthorized entrance hidden by virtue of the heroes’ own stupidity in failing to remove his codes from the database. Seriously—he’d thought gaining entry into their so-called fortress would be the hardest part of this little trip, and had only tried his access codes for the sake of checking the most stupidly obvious Plan A off his list! For them to work, to realize that there was nothing truly separating the precious sidekicks from the wrath of a vengeance minded crime lord, well… it sure made the message he was about to send feel all the more poignant.

He had come equipped to subdue an entire horde of Teeny Titans without hurting them (much), but to his surprise, the tower was empty of kid sidekicks despite Robin having been sent to work with his team yesterday afternoon, a fact Jason had gleaned last night from listening to the mind numbing chatter of Nightwing being bored on a stakeout and wanting to chat with anyone over the comms Jason had hacked into. Which he’d done in order to better plan his aggressive takeover of Crime Alley, not because he missed hearing his family’s voices. Nope.

(Since coming back to Gotham, it had been more difficult than he anticipated to stick to the plan when some part of his mind still stubbornly clung to those foolish, childhood dreams of belonging and family and a father who gave a shit and things like that, and kept popping up with annoying questions like ‘what if he revealed his identity to Dick or Alfred or someone just to see if maybe Talia had been right and they’d want him back after all. Clearly, the existence of a new Robin meant that they’d never really given a damn about him, so he was going to go through with this thing, just watch him.)

Truly this had to be fate, because the path to Robin was practically unfolding before him with no barriers. All that was left to do was find where in this gigantic clubhouse the itty little birdie was nesting. Jason tried the common room first. Then the kitchen. Then the rec room. And then the training floor. And the med bay. And then the armory, where he found Robin’s suit, but no actual Robin. He supposed the next place to check would be Robin’s bedroom, because even though it was well past eleven, Drake was a teenager and could conceivably be sleeping in, especially since there was no Alfred around to rouse him at a reasonable hour. Luckily, the doors on the floor with sleeping quarters were all clearly marked with either the name or symbol of the person it belonged to, so it was easy enough to find the one with that all too familiar stylized ‘R’. Jason paused to take a steadying breath before gritting his teeth and deciding to really make an entrance by kicking down the door.

…To an empty bedroom. Like, not just devoid of Tim Drake, but also devoid of books, trinkets, photos, decoration, clothes, dishes, mess, et cetera, et cetera. It looked as clean and sterile as a hotel room, and if Jason hadn’t literally just seen Robin’s insignia on the door he would think he’d entered an unassigned room by mistake. He frowned and yanked off his helmet, as if looking with his own two eyes would suddenly change the scene, but no. Nothing. He strode into the room and yanked open the closet—empty. He walked over to the desk and yanked open the top drawer—empty. He yanked open the bottom drawer, and mostly empty except for—wait, was that a pile of deactivated Bat trackers? Fucking bizarre. When he stood up, he glanced around again, and this time something on the bed caught his eye. It had been easy to miss against the white pillowcase, but there was an envelope tucked up against the pillow. With a scowl, he stalked over and grabbed it.

When Jason flipped it over, he noted that it was addressed to Batman, but decided that since he was a crime lord now he didn’t have to care about something as trivial as opening someone else’s mail. He didn't want to take off his gloves and risk leaving prints on anything, so he pulled out a dagger and used it to slice open the envelope. As he flipped it over to dump its contents on the desk, he had the fleeting thought that he probably should have put back on his mask in case this had been some villain’s ploy to poison Batman, but luckily all that fell out was a single sheet of printer paper folded into thirds.

This he was careful not to damage as he unfolded it. It wasn’t a long note, just a few small paragraphs, so it was quick enough to read: To whom it may concern. This letter is to formally notify you that I’m resigning as Robin in Gotham City, effective immediately…

Jason dropped the letter and took a step back, staring at the innocuous piece of paper with wide eyes and racing thoughts. Robin had—Drake wasn’t—Timothy—the kid, he was quitting? Leaving? Gone?

It could be a trap. It probably was a trap. Except Robin shouldn’t have had any way of knowing Red Hood would be able to track him all the way to Titan’s Tower so why would he have set a trap for him in the first place? A trap for someone else, then? If it was, it was really, really stupid of him because the kid had signed his resignation letter from Robin with his actual name, and surely he wouldn’t have made it this far if he were that careless with his identity. So, it was either a very bad trap, or not a trap at all. And if it was not a trap at all, then…

Then Robin had… resigned. Which, ok, Jason’s stated goal coming into this thing was to get Tim Drake to stop being Robin. So he should be happy about this, right? Except he’d not gotten to toss the kid around and work out his aggression at all so there was no satisfaction in it. Also, the timing was fucking obnoxious. Go figure that the very day he decides to do something about his replacement, the kid decides to peace out of the Gotham vigilante scene and… and go…

… Somewhere. Jason had no idea where Tim Drake would go if he were no longer Robin. Given how he’d waited until he was alone and then left the note to be found on the other side of the country, Jason had a sneaking suspicion that returning to Gotham was currently off the table. The letter had said he would be ‘out of contact’ for the foreseeable future; Jason could read between the lines enough to figure out that meant he was running away.

—Which, fuck. Another Robin was running away from Batman because of… well, Jason didn’t know what this kid’s issue with B was, but there were plenty of potential flaws in the man to choose from so Jason was going to play it safe and assume it was something Bruce did. Clearly, the man could never learn. And now, this poor dumb Robin was going to pay the price! Jason was more than familiar with the number of horrors that awaited kids who ended up on their own. He could starve; he could freeze to death; he could catch some disease like the flu, or get cut on a rusty nail and get tetanus, and then die from it because he couldn’t access medical treatment. He could get mugged, or harassed by cops, or snatched up by traffickers, or—

And fine; Jason himself had meant to hurt him. But that had been for ideological purposes, to prove a point about putting children in danger and not taking good enough care of them and stuff. It wasn’t like he was going to hurt him that badly, just bad enough to freak out Bruce a bit. But Jason was also the Red Hood, and the Red Hood’s mission was to do what was necessary to stop awful shit from happening to vulnerable kids. And this stupid, stupid letter was apparently enough to abruptly transfer Timothy Drake into that category in his head.

Everything Jason had heard about the kid said he was smart, and the timing of his disappearance pointed to some thoughtful planning on his part. Jason could imagine that the little shit had some sort of plan in place to evade Batman’s attempts to locate him, and he probably could manage to run without getting caught by Bruce and the Gotham team for a while. Heck, the kid probably had strategies to get away from most if not all of the Justice League members, since B was sure to call in favors once he got frantic enough about the little bird. But one thing the kid likely did not plan for was being pursued by him. Ex-Robin, currently a crime lord, League of Assassins connections, and a bone to pick with Timothy specifically? (He ran away from home and left a fucking resignation letter about it? Does he not realize what that would do to Dick, to Alfred, to Bruce—)

After stuffing the letter into his pocket, Jason put back on his helmet and stalked out of Titans Tower as silently as he’d arrived, this time with a new yet equally furious purpose sharpening his steps. Sucked to be Timothy Drake, he thought, because the Red Hood got his message and he was officially concerned.

#my writing #my fanfic #tim drake #jason todd #to whom it may concern #would be what this fic is called if I ever continue it haha #but this is as far as I got and then kinda lost steam #but it stands as a one shot pretty nicely so I thought I'd share it here see what people thought. ya know.#could it be a multi chapter fic one day? sure. what do I know. will it be soon? probably not.#um ok what else #unreliable narrator #tim drake has self worth issues #are probably the two most critical tags/warnings for this one.#anyway actually being on desktop is giving me way too much power look at me go all these tags and no typos damn!

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