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#talks of death
estro-gem · 3 months
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Kinger x Ragatha (Platonic): Misplaced, but present
Author's note:
This is a long awaited duo (at least for me) and I loved figuring them out when I first thought of Oasis. I hope you enjoy these sad saps as much as I enjoyed writing them. Ragatha gets to shine in her role and you get a peek into Kinger's mind.
And you get some of that sweet, sweet ANGST.
Warnings:
Angst
Delusion
Existentialism
Dementia
PTSD
Talks of death
Hurt/Comfort
SUMMARY:
Kinger had seen everything, but he has a hard time telling facts from fiction. Fading in and out of reality, he is suddenly brought into a period of clarity when a good friend came for a visit.
MISPLACED, BUT PRESENT
Kinger loathed the vast, expansive void.
He always felt so lonely, even though he was never alone - cursed with the company of something he couldn't see. Something big and incomprehensible. It - they - they were watching him; he could feel it.
The tingling sensation of eyes burning into him from all directions. It felt like an entire nest of termites chewing their way further and further into him. Little feather-like feet that pitter-pattered all over his wooden shell that he came to know as 'skin,' that left a trailing hot blaze of stinging in their wake.
It didn't matter how much they ate away from him; their hunger never ceased. There was somehow, always, more of him for them to feast on. It burned. It felt like it would never end.
It was his own personal hell.
A hell that blinded him from them who were always watching him. Them, who found the ever-amusing entertainment in his suffering; never ceasing their gaze. Always watching. Ever-consuming. The king was sure that while he couldn't hear them, they were laughing. It was echoing from all around him and yet the silence was as deafening as his claustrophobic void was dark.
A part of the chess-piece's mind was untouched by the madness of his tormented soul, but it did little to lessen the burden of existing. All it could do, was nothing but aid him with empty sympathy.
Sometimes, it was a quiet voice that whispered to him, drowned out by the raging silence that hummed into his skull. He would try his best to answer, but it was like having a conversation with someone behind a thick wall of glass. He usually reverted to speaking about whatever came to mind - be it the works and manners of the digital plain or how the flapping rate of a hummingbird's wings compares to that of a honeybee.
Anything to drown the dreaded, buzzing hum that was the silence within his empty void.
Anything to silence the sound of his own blood rushing through ears.
Then again, there was another corner within his mind that caused hyper-realistic halutionations. Those were his favourite! At first, the experiences were something he dreaded - a bizzare world that his mind conjured from his descent into madness, which farmed the visions, sights and sounds that would have haunted his dreams, were it necessary for him to sleep. The world was vivid, bright and colourful; inhabited by creatures - similar, yet unlike him. They were nothing short of monsters, aliens, and yet they were so human, it scared him.
But soon, he welcomed them - the halusionations. They acted like him. They were just as scared as he was. They were… human. At least, that's what they insisted - and Kinger knew that it all was just a ruse of his mind losing a grip on reality. It wasn't like the king was actually stuck in a Digital Circus.
That would be ridiculous.
But, oh, was it fun to play make-believe! In the void - in reality - he had nothing but darkness and the overwhelming silence pulsating into his ears.
In the Digital Circus, he had friends. Sure, they were friends of his mind's own making, but they were his! And they resembled humans - and that is what he desperately craved the most. It made the long periods in the nothingness all the more worth it when one of his friends just… POPPED into existence. When HE popped into the makings of his deranged mind.
The Circus became a home away from home.
He couldn't wait to see what his mind would conjure up next. WHO it will conjure up next… He dreaded, however, who he would LOSE next.
Yes, as much as he hated it, just as his imaginary friends could come into existence, they could apparently, also permanently leave - destroy themselves. He called it abstraction, because he didn't know what else to call it. To his surprise, his other friends would mourn the ones they lost… and he, too, would suffer the heartache, much to his confusion. Those who abstracted, never came back to him - just as it would be in real life.
They were so human… but they just couldn't be real, could they? Kinger was just slowly growing more insane - that's what it was.
"Kinger?"
The chess piece jumped with a startled yelp. In a blink, the nothingness he so often found himself in - his reality - ripped away from his mind's grasp. He frantically looked into the direction of the voice that chimed so clearly, finding one of his oldest friends standing in his open doorway.
Right! Last time he was in the Circus, he was in his room! He couldn't remember why, though…
"Ragatha!" Kinger said surprised, "You startled me!" The doll cringed in a way that could easily be mistaken for an awkward smile, "Sorry about that. You drifted off again."
"So it seems!" Kinger played along, relaxing into the fantasy that was this Circus, "Did you need anything?"
"A favour, if you wouldn't mind?" She asked, hugging one of her arms to her side, while Kinger shook his head and waved his hands almost annoyed with how she even bothered to ask. Ragatha walked into his space, clumsy and careless, as she took one of his hands and sat at the desk in front of his mirror. The doll looked back, knowing that Kinger would still be standing right where she left him, as his floating hands could be pulled away from his body for an indefinite distance.
He would have blinked if he could, before he maneuvered his way to stand behind her, also looking into the mirror. When the ragdoll let his hand go, he took ownership of it once again, only to place both hands, firmly, onto each of Ragatha's shoulders. He could feel her body melt as she sighed at the feeling of his hands resting on her.
The king piece looked down, expecting her to tilt her head back and lean against him to look back up at him. Instead, he was met with the sight of Ragatha's red locks.
Something just wasn't right with them…
Ah, yes, of course!
"Where's your bow?" the king asked confused.
"Jax was trying to being funny again… It got plucked off." Ragatha scoffed, before asking meekly, "Could you tie it for me?"
Kinger sighed in esperation with an annoyance that didn't mean serious harm, "Oh, when I get my hands on that boy-"
"-you'll thank him for what he does for us?" Ragatha smirked up at Kinger while holding up the blue ribbon for him to take. Instead of doing as she suggested, the king gently cupped both of Ragatha's cheeks, causing her to soften her previously challenging look.
"I don't want him to hurt you." Kinger spoke earnestly, using his thumbs to gently swipe at the area under the doll's eyes, as if he was wiping away tears. Ragatha's heart swelled at his sentiment.
"He doesn't want to hurt me either."
"And yet he does. Over and over." Kinger's grip tightens only slightly, with the intent to make her pay attention, "He doesn't even bother apologizing."
Ragatha sighed, tired, as her body went slack and limp while fully leaning against the large chess piece behind her. They have been over this countless times. It always played of similarly, but it always turned out to be a recurring theme.
"Kinger…" Ragatha took a breath to prepare for the conversation she was about to have, just as she does every few months, "We all do what we have to do."
"At what cost?" he challenged, "Is what we are doing really worth it?"
"I know it's less than ideal, King." Ragatha said, choosing to look at the chess piece's bed in the reflection of the mirror - it's been a while since she could look at the woman that stared back every time she looked into a mirror.
"You don't act like you know that."
"Because it's not how I'm supposed to act if we want this to work." Ragatha said sympathetically, ignoring how deranged she sound to herself. Nothing in the Circus was a choice.
It was a MUST.
"Kinger, this group is the longest we've ever had anyone stay with us." Ragatha spoke, minding her tone, "Isn't the proof in the product, despite the cost? We are all still here. We are all flawed and stressed and human. We combinded our strengths and we focus on the present, don't we? Look at where it brought us now, Kinger! We are still human. Everyone is still here."
Kinger's voice was deathly quiet, adorned with a somber tone, "Not everyone."
Ragatha wanted to counter him, but she couldn't look past the fact that he was right. She slumped forward as the king piece busied his hands to brush the scarlet locks of wool into order. At least as orderly as he could get them. They always had a mind of their own, even when Ragatha herself was the embodiment of the word, 'tame.' The doll sensed her dear friend's distress and jumped into her role to soothe the dangerous itch in his mind that caused Kinger to think too much.
Too far ahead.
Like Kaufmo did.
She reached over her shoulder to grab one of Kinger's hands and idly fiddle with his fingers while holding the hand in her lap. He didn't fight her, allowing her to express the dark depths of herself she could rarely show the others. Kinger had seen the entirety of Ragatha, just as she had seen the entirety of Kinger. Despite her role, the water spring, the sign of life and hope - the soothing cool caress of comfort in the scorching heat of the barren desert of a Circus, Ragatha's concern and fear laid deep beneath her glossy surface.
With Kinger, she could show herself from a different perspective and she knew that he wouldn't shy away or grow concerned. She was their comfort, just as she needed comfort.
He had seen it all, before any of them had seen the truth.
They lost someone.
Someone of value - someone that valued those who surrounded him. A keystone to the oasis. Gone. Ripped from their broken family that had it's faults, but still remained functional. Even if it was just barely.
"I wonder how Gangle is doing now that he is gone." Kinger said, lost in thought. Ragatha placed her blue ribbon into Kinger's hand, before letting it go and allowing him to pull it back. He began to section the wooly locks to tie the ribbon into it.
"I think she's okay for now, but I'm sure she is still in shock. Maybe she feels lost." Ragatha said, keeping her gaze low, not willing to look herself in the eye, "At least the newbie and her shenanigans are distracting her."
"I don't see how this will end well." Kinger said, worry evident in his voice, "I can't imagine what it must be like - knowing that you have a book with the answers of the world in the palm of your hand… but it's written in a language that you don't understand."
"Heh." Ragatha huffed, "He really had a way with his resources, didn't he?"
"What good is a looking glass without a pair of eyes to peer through them?"
"Ok, now you are just saying things to act smart!" Ragatha laughed, feeling the gentle tug of Kinger's hands working to tie the ribbon, completely leave her head. Kinger paused briefly, before he caved to laugh along with his friend.
"Maybe I am... maybe I'm not!"
Ragatha smiled incredulously, looking at his reflection before her, "She'll be ok. We will all be ok. We'll just take things slow and steady - one day at a time. Like we did in the old days."
"Please don't remind me of my age…" Kinger sighed.
"OUR age! I was there too, you know?"
She was there too.
She was there for a very long time. Of all of them, she was there the longest; by his side. She was the only one left since before the oasis began. Their bond never grew beyond friendship, but it was all they needed to remain together.
The king looked at the doll with a warm fondness that ached in his chest, "I know I'm not a good person for saying this… but… I'm so happy it was Kaufmo."
The doll's eyes widened with horror, but before she could even think to say anything, Kinger spoke again; his voice cracked and weary, "I don't want to lose you too."
The words died in Ragatha's throat.
In the blink of an eye, she jumped up and threw her arms around the freakishly tall chess piece. He was quick to reciprocate, but he broke into trembling sobs that were drowned by the plush of Ragatha's shoulder.
"Shhh, shhhh! It's ok. I'm not going anywhere." Ragatha said, trying her best to soothe her oldest friend.
"She promised me!" He said, his words so broken apart by his sobs, that Ragatha could barely understand him.
She promised.
"I know, King. I know." the doll said, numbing herself from the sympathy and empathy she felt, to prevent the tears from rushing down her cheeks too, "I can't make that same promise Queenie made to us."
Ragatha pulled away to hold onto her dear friend's face and look him in the eyes. He saw her's, set ablaze with a spark only she could possess. She was still as she set the world - her reality - aside, only to look him - straight at him.
Ragatha pulled him down, to kiss his forehead, then looked him in he eyes once again; speaking with an even tone she didn't even know that she possessed, "I can only promise you this."
To hell with hallucinations, Kinger thought to himself. He wanted to believe that there really was a woman in front of him. That there really was a friend about to make him a promise unlike the deceit that Queenie subjected him to. He wish he could hate her for leaving him behind, but he was too tired. He was too soft.
I loved her too much.
"What is it?" Kinger asked his friend, dreading the answer.
Ragatha swallowed back a wave of emotion that caused a stinging sensation behind her eyes, before she vowed to him,
"You'll go first, I promise."
Kinger stared down at her, as if challenging her to back out from her promise, but to his surprize, she didn't. She matched his gaze and stood her ground.
He really was a bad person.
Because a wave of relief crashed over him, forcing him to his knees. The chess piece clutched her skirts as he hid his face in her chest, like a child, but the doll stood firmly with her feet rooted to the floor, finally allowing the tears to flow down her cheeks.
Her voice was still and steady as ever;
"I'll be right here with you, until you go first."
Fan art/comic related to this story: (CLICK HERE TO SEE)
Oasis: TADC AU list
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chiefdirector · 2 years
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A HAIR’S BREADTH FROM DEATH | Tim McGee | NCIS | Whumptober 2022
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Day three: Gun to temple
The barrel of the gun felt cold against her head. The sensation almost felt calming to her, the coolness in contrast to her rising, anxiety induced, body temperature. It was almost as if it was grounding her back down to earth. As if it wasn’t going to be the thing that kills her.
She couldn’t see that far ahead of her, the ex-petty officer had made sure of that. She could just make of the home video camera by its flashing red light, next to it sat a small disposable phone. The dampness in the air suggested that she was underground but all of this knowledge was useless to her now. If only she had known about the basement before she has surveilled the house then maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t have ended up here.
Gibbs would be disappointed in her. She could feel the head slap waiting for her when she ever got out of this situation. Or if she got out. She should’ve known better than to go in alone, she had been a NCIS Special Agent long enough to know that. Maybe it had been her arrogance or her unwavering need to prove herself against her male colleagues but whatever it was, it wasn’t worth dying for.
The ropes that had bound her hands behind her back dug into red-raw skin as she tried to shift away from the gun slightly. Ziva had once taught her how to get out of bondage like these many months ago. If only they hadn't opened that third bottle of chardonnay then maybe she would have managed to escape before her captors had come back for her.
She tried not to focus on the burning sensation in her wrists. Instead she thought of Tony, and the lewd comments he would make about her being tied down. She could almost here it now: Look at you, Y/N. I didn't think you were the type for restraints. She could imagine how Kate would have rolled her eyes at him if she had lived. She could imagine rollering her own eyes at him if she survived this.
Abby, she knew, would be hysterical. They had always been close. Abby had been her first friend at NCIS, briefing her of the Do's and Don'ts of Leroy Jethro Gibbs (she also showed her the right spot of the vending machine to hit for free Doritos much to Tony's dismay). Abby couldn't lose another friend. Ducky would be there for Abby, but Y/N knew that he would be the one to perform the autopsy, she knew that Ducky would have to live with that image forever more.
And Tim, her sweet, sweet Tim would be left widowed. She knew how much he lad lost and how many burdens he had to carry with him. She had stayed by his side throughout some of the worst moments of his life, she had promised him that she would always be there for him. Now, she faced being his next problem, his next issue, his next burden to bear.
"The address," Her captor said, breaking the heavy silence in the air. "Give me the address and then I'll let your little agent here go."
The phone crackled as the recipient of the call spoke. "No deal. Give her back then - and only then - will I consider giving you anything."
Instead of responding, the former marine clicked the safety off, pushing the barrel further into her head.
"I'm sorry, Gibbs. I tried. I really tried-"
"You have nothing to be sorry for, L/N. He does. This is his doing, not yours." Gibbs took an audibly breath before turning his attention back to the man. "Let her go and then we'll talk."
"In your own words: no deal"
The trigger was pulled quickly, so quickly that Y/N didn't hear a thing before her world went black and she plunged into oblivion; the NCIS team watched helplessly as they watched her body slump forward in her chair on the MTAC screen before the picture disconnected.
Tim didn't know how long he stayed there, watching the fuzzy screen before him. He didn't remember Tony offering him a ride home, or how the two sat silent in his car for nearly an hour. He didn't remember much of the following days, or the funeral. All he knew was that he was alone now.
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starres-stuff · 8 months
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FFXIV Writes 2023 | Day 3 | Sun
“Can every day be like this?” Vi’s voice had taken on a dreamy note. It was the middle of the day and somehow she had not only been successful at convincing Clement to not only stay home instead of going to Corethas but to lay with her in the Sunbeams pouring in the window at Cenodocia’s house like two oversized cats ready for an afternoon nap. She had even put off Choreographing two numbers for an upcoming show just to enjoy this time with him.
“We have to work, beloved.” The Corethan chuckled, running his hand through her long fiery hair and pulling her close. “Everyone needs discipline in their lives, order in chaos. Could you imagine a Star where no one worked?”
“Oh, I have imagined it many times over.” Vi protested, her legs stretching and her toes curling, fingers reaching out to tug at the blanket that had only lightly covered them up until the moment she pulled it up. “Then I could just lay in the sun with you and Kovalt every day. We would not have to worry about what time each of us will be home, or if I will be out of the studio in time for dinner. I would not find myself concerned that the Airship got you safely to Coerthas or that some bastard did not jump Kovalt while he was doing his rounds.” A pout appeared on her features as she rattled off the various what-ifs that consumed her mind throughout the day.
“And we would have absolutely no responsibility in our lives. We would become bored over time and before long what would we have to talk about.” Clement’s head dropped lower to place a kiss right on the crown of her own and then he said softly. “Do not worry so much Viviane. While there are many things that can go wrong, we will always come home. That I promise you.” There was such sincerity in his voice that Vi couldn’t help but nod her head, she knew well that they would both come home, they always did. Some nights it was later than others, and some mornings too but they always came home. It made her dread the day they did not. The day either of them left the Star and traveled back to the Aetherial Sea to await their rebirth.
“I trust in that my love.” She said softly, raising her head to look into Clement’s mismatched eyes, the way the sun highlighted his natural blonde hair with streaks of what looked like gold to her made her suck in her breath with a small gasp of wonder, even his features seemed to glow when the Sun touched him despite his darker skin. Often she thought he was made of the golden light the way it complimented him and in the same thought, she believed Kovalt was made from the silver light of the moon.
“I know you both will always come home, but I also know this Star has so many tragedies that I do not wish this, us, to be one of those things.” Vi’s brow creased in thought, as a sleepy yawn appeared on her face. The warmth that filled her from both the light that streamed in the window and the feeling of being wrapped up in Clement’s arms began to lull her into this peaceful place where if she was not careful she could sleep the day away without another thought to what could possibly go wrong.
“And still I will watch over you.” his voice had taken on a soft note “You will never be alone again, even when the day comes that we do return to the Sea. We will always be with you.” His hand moved from her hair to touch first her forehead and then right above her heart. “This is where we live now and nothing can end that but us. Keep your faith, love, even if we do end up parted our spirits will find each other again.” Vi could only stare at him then, there was just something about the way he spoke to her that took away anything that clouded her soul. The most exciting part of it was that she felt like she had heard the words of many lives that were behind them. The three of them were destined to just keep finding each other and no one, not even them could convince her otherwise.
“You are the light in my darkness, you know.” Vi finally managed to say, wrestling with her tongue to get it to say what she wanted was always a chore but it was worth it, just to get out how she was feeling. “Before you, I was not a very optimistic woman. There was no middle of the road. There was only darkness and light. Since you entered my life I have begun to see the shadows that are created when both touch equally and in balance.
A light blush took her cheeks, and her eyes closed. This was the perfect day, and he was the perfect man for her. They both were. “You are my Sunshine, Clement. I hope you know that I know I am not the best at telling either of you how much I love you and what you mean to me.” The words trailed off after that, one last yawn and finally, she drifted off into sleep, leaving Clement to watch her sleep and tighten his arms around her; eventually joining her in her dreams.
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Jesus Christ on a pogo stick, why did the AI choose that of all things to ask?!
Also hello everyone! I'm not back, but I'm talking to this character AI for my self-insert fic and it's... it's certainly something... We somehow got to talking about religion lmao help my agnostic ass can't escape.
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chaoticstateofaffairs · 3 months
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It…it was ok. Everything was ok when we left yesterday morning and it was ok when I went back for my thing and on the way home got a call from my grandma that my dad was sick and something was wrong.
This is the 3rd time he could have died. Once before I was born, he fell out of a tree, 2nd I was 12-13 and he had a heart attack and now, he has a horrible infection in his legs.
I’m exhausted, I’m a worrier and it’s…it’s hurting me. All I have to know is if he’s going to be ok, that’s all I need to know but they aren’t sure yet.
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being a student during peak pandemic was so fucking surreal like. "it's not an excuse to fall behind" I cannot stress enough to you how much A Worldwide Plague Upending Life As We Know It is literally one of The Top Three Reasons to fall behind
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ghost-bxrd · 1 month
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Headcanon that when Jason so much as says “ow..” on the comms the rest of the batfam immediately assume he must be dying.
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ulgapodatkowa · 6 months
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I have so many thoughts but I at least want to address the "for the new unicorn" note. because first of all it's so incredibly gratifying for izzy to finally be accepted into a community. it was shown before that the crew cares for him in some way but it was the first time he really saw that. that he isn't useless and alone, that he still has a place on the ship. even more so the crew WANTS HIM to be on the ship. and also that they want him to embrace his disability which doesn't make them think any less of him.
but also the choice of words. because inherently it rings queer, unicorn as a symbol of queerness. and even if it may have a negative sound when you use it differently here it is extremely positive. izzy is not only accepted to the crew, he's also accepted to the queer community, to the family. the unicorn on the revenge was also the one that was leading the ship, so one can argue that they want him to take that role in their dynamic.
and you can see that he does so immediately. he puts himself together and starts helping the crew. he's still bitchy but no longer violent and cruel. he helps stede and lucius immensely because that is what he does now. he's part of the family. twat.
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the way we've reached a point where somehow izzy's the healthiest person in this dynamic
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tieflingkisser · 5 months
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Israeli Parliament Set to Discuss Legalising ‘Death Penalty Law for Palestinian Prisoners’
look up the conviction rates for Palestinians
look up how many and for how long Palestinians are held without charges, without bail, without visitation or access to lawyers
this is absolutely a prelude to formalized mass execution of political prisoners
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holzerisms · 6 months
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*rocking back and forth in the fetal position* miscommunication is a core element of the romcom genre miscommunication is a core element of the romcom genre miscom
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tennant-davids · 7 months
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OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH Season 2 Behind The Scenes
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adobe-outdesign · 10 months
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The notes on that last Muppet poll I made made me realize that most people seem to mistakenly believe that Muppet adaptations of classic literature are parodies, which isn't true. you have to everything dead straight. in fact, the key to making a Muppet adaptation is to be so faithful to the source material that it's more accurate than 90% of other non-Muppet adaptions
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blairpfaff · 5 months
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regonold · 11 days
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Danny gets deaged and heads to Gotham to find jazz at collage there's only one problem he knows where the collage is just now where jazz's class is
Enter one bruce wayne who genuinely just so happened to be there (he's pulling a brucie wayme stunt) seeing a small kid looking around worried so what does the serial adopter do? Well he goes up to the kid of course crouching down to ask if he's ok whats his name wheres his parents or siblings?
Now jazz, jazz all but raised danny she protected him from a young age and helped him with anything he needed and durimg her time at collage she had worried for him, with the amount of bull her parents spouted she wouldn't be surprised if danny up and left
So imagine her surprise when she spotted her baby brother de aged talking to some stranger and at that moment every instinct flared and she remembered every warning she read or heard about Gotham and she acted
Danny was just looking for his sister when some guy crouched down to talk with him after asking some questions danny heard a sound he was familiar with jazz running
Bruce really wasn't expecting to be kicked for trying to help a kid
Artistic representation of jazz kicking bruce\/
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bamsara · 5 months
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more trod au stuff specifcially: dreams
IDK if i want dream!narinder to be canon in the AU yet but it's certainly a concept to play around with because I think it's funny if Lamb's dreams are just kinda bittersweet while Narinder's is just that one audio going NIGHTMARE NIGHTMARE NIGHTMARE NIGHTM
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