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bored-platypus · 28 days

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the moon will sing (time traveling tim)

so. i saw this super awesome post by @puppetwoman17 about time traveling tim drake and got obsessed, so here's a small ficlet i wrote about it!

The thing is, Tim expects it. He’s faintly aware of the blood seeping from his stomach, staining his hands red— hands which are uselessly putting pressure on his wound. If he survives this, he doesn’t even want to think of all the weeks of pure agony and fever, brought on by the wonderful lack of his spleen and the fact that healing from wounds sucked, period.

Death isn’t surprising— he really didn’t think he would live past, what, twenty-five? Thirty? To live until beyond 50 with his lifestyle was, well. It sounded painful, anyways. And you would need to be a deeply paranoid neurotic. Like Bruce. Because as much as he respected his father and looked up to him, if Tim turned out anything like Batman, he’d probably find a bullet through his brain sooner or later.

Half because Tim was reckless and his plans were so convoluted and insane that nobody really knew what was going on either, just to confuse his opponent. The other half was, well. You can guess.

So. He’s bleeding out, the night is uncomfortably cold and the wind bites into his skin, sand grating against his back, and all Tim can think about is how much he hopes Ra’s al-Ghul doesn’t show up like a damned wraith and drag him kicking and screaming to the nearest surgery table and take out his kidneys or something.

Tim’s also thinking about his family. And the probable inconveniences that come with his death. Like arranging his funeral and all his assets and his Nest and the fact that Tim is a very integral part of the family and Dick will probably fall apart and Bruce will mourn and brood, and, and damn it. Tim should probably revoke his thinking process or something.

—

Tim is twenty three years old when he bleeds to death alone, and nobody finds his body until three weeks later when his family has scoured the Earth and his distress signal rings, rings, but nobody sees it. His predictions about his family come true.

But that isn’t quite relevant, because Tim isn’t aware of such a thing.

Instead, Tim closes his eyes and falls and jerks up on his bed, clutching his chest as years of memories flood his brain, too much for a mere eleven year old. It feels like his head has been cracked open and molten lava had been poured through, scorching his veins and circulation. It feels like agony of the highest level and Tim is faintly aware of the darkness creeping in, his mind too overwhelmed and overstimulated from years of memories flooding into his brain.

And so for the second time in a few minutes and a lifetime, Tim welcomes unconsciousness with open arms.

The next few hours are spent in pure agony, his body being too weak to move and his limbs too short for him to coordinate. He’s pretty sure that there’s a pool of dried blood underneath him from a nosebleed, but he’s too tired to turn around, so he just uncomfortably shifts away from it. Not for the first time, he thanks his lucky stars that his parents are neglectful, because he doesn’t even know how he would explain all of this.

Two days later, he musters the strength to stumble out of bed, gulp down the bitter, carbon dioxide-filled water next to him and get to the kitchen. It’s April 1st, twelve years ago, Tim is eleven years old, and his family doesn’t know him yet.

Half of the terrible things that have happened to Dick haven’t happened yet. Jason hasn’t died yet. Duke is still a kid and his parents are healthy. Babs hasn’t been put into a wheelchair by the Joker.

Steph is still living with her father. Damian and Cass are being trained as assassins.

Mrs. Mac is due to come in a few hours. Tim looks at the blood-crusted covers of his bed and his crumpled clothes.

Oh, shoot.

So instead of researching or training, Tim spends the next hour trying to get the bedsheets off with his tiny, noodle arms, half stumbling on his feet because he’s way too damn short, and making his way to the bathroom so he can take a shower and get some of the blood off so it doesn’t stain too badly.

It’s probably a lost cause. Not that his parents will notice or care about a missing bedsheet, but it feels wasteful to just throw it away to hide evidence of his unintentional time travel.

Two and a half hours later, Tim stumbles out of the laundry room, his bedsheets and pillow finally in the washer. He collapses on the nearest chair and scans the room for his father’s computer.

He lets out a shaky breath. His family is generally unscarred. Jason is Robin again. Jason. The boy who Tim had held with a certain degree of, well, disdain. Thinking about it kind of makes him want to punch is past self in the face, or cringe in the way that you can only do when you think of something embarrassing you used to do. Like victim-blaming your older brother for getting beat to death while trying to find his mother.

It wasn’t the only way he looked at Jason, but he had always thought of him as too reckless. Maybe he really did deserve the beating. Well, not that he believed that young teenagers should be beat up by young adults in Robin cosplay, but at least Tim wasn’t exactly traumatized by the experience. Better him than some other poor civilian kid Bruce could’ve adopted.

And Tim did get his revenge. By getting Jason on his private parts. But whatever. Revenge was revenge, and Tim was better than the whole crime lord setup his older brother had. In practice, anyways.

Chewing on the ballpoint pen, he writes down the first thing on his list (in code, of course) since coming back in time.

prevent jason’s death

Well. Now that he had a comprehensive list, Tim was down and ready to plan.

—

A hour later, Mrs. Mac appears, none the wiser to what happened to him. Tim greets her as she walks in, and she smiles and greets him back, putting lunch in the fridge. She notices nothing wrong about how he stays sitting on the chair in the living room, and Tim says nothing about it. When she leaves, he pulls the piece of paper out of his book and the pen from his hair, scratching down some extra points.

Hmm. Maybe the Court of Owls should go early. Or perhaps that would create too much change?

Dick would have a better time in the future if they were gone, though. Tim frowns, dragging his pen back and forth in a short line on the table.

He still needed to factor in the fact that he was an unknown to the family. The thing is, Tim loves their dysfunctional, broken family and he knows Bruce and Dick loved him back. But to be honest, it would be easier to change events if he wasn’t being scrutinized by Bruce every day. And it wasn’t like Tim had any shortage of money, with his parents still alive and his family fortune enough to cover whole lifetimes, so he wasn’t worried about his own safety.

It would be nice to go to college too. Maybe Stanford. He was smart enough to make it, and the location was close to the vigiliante community that if he so wanted to, he could probably join and watch his family from the outskirts. Last time around, Tim just couldn’t leave Gotham. Being a vigiliante was his life— he couldn’t even justify it as a temporary thing anymore. Their family had gone through so much tragedy and Gotham was still filled with crime and Tim had an obligation to keep her safe. It just… he couldn’t escape his mantle because he loved it, and Tim had a difficult time letting things go once he loved them.

But if Tim could change things from the start, he didn’t need to be pulled back into the life. (He couldn’t have it, even if he loved it, because it was never his in the first place.) He could start anew, be a vigiliante when he was in college and far away from the family he hopefully would’ve fixed by then.

Well then. First things first, he needed to remove a factor from Jason’s death so he wouldn’t die in the first place.

—

Mrs. Mac comes by and cooks him lunch, and they eat in silence. Typically, Tim would fill the silence with chattering, glad to have someone to talk to in the empty manor. But Tim’s mind is whirring, drawing up and discarding plans. By the time Mrs. Mac stands up and tells him she’s going to leave now, Tim has thought of three contingencies and twelve more future events he needs to address.

He mhms when Mrs. Mac prompts him to, and eventually she leaves out the front door, leaving him alone with his thoughts. It’s spring break and Tim doesn’t actually have anything to do because he’s in middle school now, so he mulls over the Jason problem for a few more hours.

It comes to him when he’s microwaving the leftovers from lunch, and Tim is pretty sure he’s a genius, or something. Sheila Haywood worked at a refugee camp in Ethiopia handling medical supplies, but she was embezzling funds from the organization she was working for. It wouldn’t be difficult for Tim to trace it and report her. By the time Jason began tracking her down, she would most likely be in prison, just for a few years and everything would hopefully blow over and the Joker wouldn’t blackmail her because she had no use to him in prison.

It was cold, perhaps. But her life wouldn’t be over with a few years in prison, and Jason would be alive. Nothing more than they deserved.

Jason, alive. Then Damian, Cass, and Steph. He would see to his family, whole and happy. Then perhaps, in the future, when he was older and safely out of Bruce’s adoption zone, Tim could perhaps work with them. Laugh about how he never expected the Wayne family to be vigilantes, just to throw them off his trail.

Tim allows himself this one selfish thought, because he has nothing else but the shattered remains of a future that will never come to be, and a family he left behind but still exists.

a/n:

i wrote this in two hours under an inspired haze of time travel and tim, two of my favorite things

tim is a super unreliable narrator if you haven't already noticed lmao

also if i get any characterization wrong feel free to leave some discourse or ping me on the head

but like please be gentle cause y'know constructive crit, not bashing

thanks for reading! :D

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somestorythoughts · 9 months

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Protective Rage Obi-Wan Fic

So. @fanfic-obsessed has this cool Protective Rage Obi-Wan story idea that yall should check out because it's really good and they've got a ton of cool AU ideas. And I had an idea about an apology scene for it and then the plot bunny that makes you do things like overcomplicate worldbuilding said "you know you could do a whole fic" and now I have 4000 words. I was thinking of splitting it up into parts cause that's a long post but frankly I'm tired and should've been in bed like 90min ago cause I have work tomorrow and mornings suck so it's staying a one shot with the paragraphs spaces cause I am NOT reformatting that now. Enjoy.

Usually, when Quinlan’s pushing himself to finish a mission through this much pain, he’s running on determination, maybe some spite. This time it’s desperation.

He’s not sure if the shouting starts before or after he hits the door panel – or maybe it’s been going on the whole time – but he can see Obi-Wan through the spots in his eyes and that’s good, that’s good, he can’t finish this and maybe his friend can –

“Quin!”

It’s like leaning on stone, Obi-Wan’s mind wonderfully shielded under the worry in his voice and Quinlan holds up a datachip for the hands around his arms. “Coded. Please.”

“I’ll take care of it. I promise.”

He’s staring up at the ceiling now but that’s alright. Obi-Wan has the data. Quinlan can break now.*

Ahsoka isn’t panicking, but only because she’s had a lot of practice keeping her head and she’s not friends with Master Vos. She’s met him though, and knows Obi-Wan and he are close, and she’s scared for him.

“That’s an order Marrow!” Obi-Wan snaps and the medic someone called hisses in frustration from where Ahsoka’s holding him back. She isn’t sure why Obi-Wan’s so adamant that no one get closer to them, but she knows it’s serious. For all Obi-Wan hates the medbay he’ll work with the medics, let them see him elsewhere, and he knows better than to keep serious injuries from them.

“General his leg is gangrenous if he doesn’t get immediate treatment he could lose it! As the head medic-”

“Quin has to be seen by a Temple healer anyone else will make it worse. I don’t like it anymore than you do Marrow.” He’s resting a hand on Master Vos’ head and is holding his hand with the other, trying to sooth his mumbling friend.

“Can you explain why while we wait for Healer Eerin?” She asked.

Obi-Wan frowns, the look he gets when he’s trying to figure out how to explain something Force-related in English. “Marrow. The troopers who have trouble with excessive sound. If they were injured would you treat them in a noisy medbay?”

Marrow scowls, but he stops splitting his attention between Master Vos’ leg and how best to get around Ahsoka and says, “Of course not. Not if there was any way to avoid it.”

“Quin’s psychometric. It’s a useful skill, but sometimes it’s like Force hypersensitivity.”

Cody interrupts as Anakin enters. “Healer Eerin just arrived. She’s being escorted here.”

“Any idea what happened?” Anakin says. He’s waiting by Ahsoka, whether because he already knows approaching is a bad idea or because he got the gist from the way the medics haven’t gotten closer is anyone’s guess.

“Have to keep them safe.” Master Vos mutters and Obi-Wan’s face tightens, though his shields are still rock-solid.

“Who Quin? Who do you need to keep safe?”

But Master Vos never stopped talking, only just loud enough to be heard. He’s shivering too, voice breaking with groans. Whatever he was doing to walk on that leg – Ahsoka is very determinedly not looking at the swelling or the white that might be bone – he clearly can’t keep it up anymore. “Gotta keep them safe from the people and the senators and the Chancellor gotta do something useful with my unnatural powers what good are we if we can’t keep them safe apparently nothing I hoped I hoped I wasn’t gonna get my heart broken again I Obi they deserve better than this-”

His words are cut off by the sound of the door opening as Healer Eerin and a Padawan healer sweep into the room in unfamiliar robes and go instantly to the downed Jedi. Marrow scowls heavy as thunder at not being able to treat a patient on his ship as they do, Healer Eerin passing something to Obi-Wan as she takes his place by Master Vos’ head. Obi-Wan squeezes his hand and stands, moving in line with the troopers around them so that he can slide the chip into the device and examine whatever Master Vos was so desperate to bring him.

“Pop quiz Padawan Lele. Why do we use special gear for Master Vos?”

Padawan Lele didn’t stop what they were doing as they replied: “Because his psychometry is super strong and the pain has seriously damaged his shields. Without the robes or equally strong shields he’ll feel too much of our minds and memories as well. This could delay his healing or damage his mind.”

Marrow goes stiff and Ahsoka thinks that’s the first time she’s seen him look sheepish.

For a few minutes, the room is a quiet tension, little sound aside from the Healers working or Master Vos’ delirious mumbling, fading in and out of hearing. Cody’s giving him the same worried look Ahsoka is, Master Vos sounds like his heart is as broken as his leg and she knows enough about how people work to think that the amount of self-deprecation she can hear isn’t a new thing.

The rage, when it comes, is sudden as a lightning bolt and just as sharp. It’s gone just as quickly too – almost before Ahsoka and the other Padawan finish whipping around to stare at Obi-Wan who looks perfectly calm. Cody’s looking at him too, narrow-eyed in suspicion.

“Excuse me.” He says, still perfectly calm, and Ahsoka thinks of the weight of a sky prepared to burst and wonders if she should follow him, but the door is closed before she can decide.

“Been a while since I saw Obi-Wan get that angry.” Healer Eerin remarks.

“Huh?” Several of the troopers say. Anakin does too and the day has not been nearly overwhelming enough for Ahsoka not to role her eyes at how her oblivious master can lift a tank but not read anger when it’s shoved in his face.

“A little after Anakin first came to the Temple one of the teachers decided he was a poor fit for the Order and was trying to sabotage his work along with bullying him in class. Obi-Wan found out, asked Quin to watch Anakin for an evening, and went after the teacher. The man landed in the Halls of Healing with several broken bones and left as soon as he was cleared to move left for the furthest jedi outpost he could find. If he ever taught again I will be very surprised. Commander he’s safe to move but it would help if we had a clear path to the door.”

“You’re gonna catch flies Skyguy.” Ahsoka says faintly as Cody taps his comm to pass on the message. When he’s finished they all hear the trooper on the other end say, “By the way sir General Kenobi just left for Coruscant’s surface, said he had some business to attend to at the Senate.”

Cody nods, wearing the expression of concern and exasperation he gets whenever anyone he feels remotely responsible for does something dangerous without explaining why. “Check and see if there’s a way to find out what they’re doing.” He orders Crys as the Healers begin to maneuver Master Vos through the door.

“It’s one of the sessions journalists are reporting live sir.” Crys answers, pulling up the feed without needing to be asked, and they all group together to watch it.

Obi-Wan is, to put it bluntly, really fucking pissed. The anger in him pools like water, building and building, and he wills himself to keep calm control as he strides through the Senate building. If he gets too angry to think, things will go wrong.

Quinlan came to him because the things that had already gone wrong were even worse than any of them had been allowed to see, and he couldn’t fix it himself. He came to Obi-Wan for help putting things right.

Obi-Wan will be damned thrice over if he fails that mission.

He’s already sent the information on the datachip to the Council (though he doesn’t know when they’ll be able to see it), to all of the Commanders he has the contact information for (he’s not sure which of them made those particular lines of contact so secure but he trusts Cody’s view of them), and Madame Nu. They can’t afford to let this stay between the two of them, they need the backup. He knows the Council cares, is struggling as much as he is under the weight of the war, and the Commanders deserve to know and can keep their secrets. He includes Madame Nu because he doubts anyone would expect it, and the few interactions he’d seen between her and her single squad of troopers made him certain she adores them.

Plus, she studies Sith Temples. She’s gotta be more dangerous than she looks.

He walks into the rotunda where the Senate are debating the (very reasonable he’s read this one) Clone Rights bill, sees Palpatine, and allows his rage to fuel his leap for the podium.

“Tell me,” He says, cool as can be, as he smashes Palpatine’s face into the stand and kicks Amedda away when the asshole tries to interfere, “what the fuck the jedi did to you that you want our children murdered in their cribs?”

Order 66. Kill all the jedi. All of them.

“Who the fuck gave you the right to have an army bred and implant them all with control chips so that they couldn’t disobey, couldn’t be allowed to even think?”

Control chips that would wipe out the troopers’ minds, take away every thought and feeling and every piece of self that they’d fought to keep, chips that would turn the troopers his friends into the flesh droids senators liked to claim they were.

Palpatine snarled and shot off lightning. Obi-Wan deflected it and continued to ignore the screaming as he mused that perhaps Palpatine had decided there was no point in hiding when Obi-Wan was broadcasting these secrets to the Senate. Then he punched Palpatine below his sternum and then his ribs.

Ah, red lightsaber. There it is. He ducked and broke Palpatine’s arm.

“And while we’re at it, who the fuck allowed you to use those chips to control the Coruscant Guard and make them do your dirty work? Or withhold rations and bacta?”

It’s entirely possible he shouldn’t have included the information about the blackout missions and the extent of Palpatine’s control over the clones. That might have been the kind of thing they’d want to share themselves. Unless they couldn’t say anything?

“Even for the Sith you’re an exceptionally twisted shitstain.” He ducks the other lightsaber and wonders why this asshole had to learn to fight with two.

“You forced my family at blaster point to lead a war you orchestrate from both sides, forced our friends into slavery and now you want to take away everything our friends are when you use them to kill us and frankly Palpatine, I think the fuck not!”

The red lightsaber screams in his hand as he slices Palpatine’s head clean off.

Obi-Wan frowns as he takes in the scene. Huh, Amedda’s still here and oh that’s Master Windu and Master Yoda in the audience. He supposes some Jedi witnesses are a good idea. He grabs Amedda by the front of his robes and uses the Force to help him hold the heavy asshole over the edge of the podium with one hand, just to make sure he gets the point.

“Now you may have gathered that I’m very concerned about the clone troopers’ lack of rights. What about you?”

It turns out that Amedda is also very concerned about the clone troopers’ lack of rights. Good. “Full Republic citizenship and Senate representation that they elect instead of someone who make money off their bodies would be good too.” Obi-Wan adds, looking the Senator from Kamino dead in the eye. He’s pretty sure she’s calculating the distance between him and her pod when she nods.

If Obi-Wan had known all it would take to get his friends their rights was the public murder of one of his least favorite people, he’d have done that at the beginning of this thrice-damned war. The bill is passed very quickly and unanimously, and a couple Senators add a bit about backpay they’d had in the works as well and make some noise about allowing the clones to settle a moon or planet once they have the time to look the uninhabited ones over. That gets less enthusiasm but it’s not being shouted down and they can work with that, so Obi-Wan grins with all his teeth on display and says “I’m glad I only had to kill one politician today.”

The fear that ripples through the Force is unmistakable.

He puts Amedda down and heads to the Senate floor where the Coruscant Guard are waiting. Their shields aren’t bad but there’s awe shinning through them like sunshine in the dessert, bright and warm and painful with the twisting of old griefs and pains and shocked relief, and Obi-Wan says “I assume I’m going to be arrested?”

One of the men, who wears the rank of a Commander, takes of his helmet and asks, “Permission to speak freely sir?”

“Granted, forever and always.”

The man beams, and answers; “Then with all due respect sir, there is no way we’re going to arrest you.”

“Are you sure? I did just beat the Chancellor of the Republic to death.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely. Everyone on the Guard wants him dead within their first week here.”

“Thorn put your helmet back on, we’re not safe unless that law’s enforced.” Someone snaps and a different Commander approaches, leading Master Windu and Master Yoda. His shields are beskar-strong, but judging by his voice Obi-Wan would bet he’s glaring at Thorn.

“I’m feeling a bit spiteful.” Thorn grins and Fox gives that familiar huff that usually means the trooper in question is rolling their eyes underneath their helmet.

“Don’t look at us like that we’re not locking you up either.” Mace says dryly when Obi-Wan looks at him. “I will however, make sure your Padawan gets mindhealing sessions if I have to drag him there kicking and screaming myself. He’s overdue anyway.”

Obi-Wan winces but agrees. Quin hadn’t found solid proof of Palpatine grooming Anakin to be his Sith apprentice, but the information he had found made him suspicious. And once he read that, Obi-Wan can see a lot of things that support it.

Windu pulls him into a hug, startling Obi-Wan. The other Master doesn’t often want a lot of physical contact, and for him to initiate hugs is unusual. He sinks into it.

“Do you know how Quinlan is? Bant had to take him to the Halls.”

Windu shook his head. “I’ll ask.”

“To the Temple we will go after, inform everyone, and let you see your friend.” Yoda adds.

“Vos?”

Obi-Wan blinks at the stern commander. His shields are still thick but every single one of the other Guards are radiating concern and Obi-Wan wonders if Quinlan started this investigation because it was the Guard he wanted to protect.

“He found the information on Palpatine and brought it to me. He was seriously injured and delirious when I left him with the Healers.” The Commander twitches, just barely visible, and Obi-Wan asks, “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name?”

“Commander Fox.”

“Vos looked out for us.” Commander Thorn adds when it’s clear Fox isn’t going to continue. “He did his best to keep civilians off our backs, brought us bacta, snacks, and sweets when he could, tried to make us laugh. He’s our jedi even if it wasn’t official. But we haven’t seen him in weeks.”

Obi-Wan nods in understanding, then turns as Mace looks up.

“He’s in a coma. I can tell you more on the way, I trust the Guard but I don’t want to say this in the open.”

“I’m coming.” Commander Fox states and Commander Thorn nods.

“And perhaps a couple of the men. So we know how he’s doing?”

“I was going to ask one of you if you wanted to come. One would probably be best for now, I don’t know if the Healers are allowing visitors.”

“Just Fox then. I’ll watch out for our vode.” Thorn knocks his forehead gently against Fox’s, murmurs something none of them can hear, and leads the rest of the Guards away. The Jedi and single Commander push through the crowds and pile into a transport.

“Details Mace.”

It’s a sign of how serious it is that Mace doesn’t respond to the tone with a raised brow or eyeroll. “The gangrene is too serious; they have to amputate his leg at the knee. They aren’t sure how far he fell to break it that badly, but they know it’s been untreated for days. Best guess is he was running from someone and couldn’t find a place or the time to take care of it. He’s got some bruising and infected cuts on top of that which makes things worse, but they’re pretty sure they can deal with those. However. He’s not responding well to the healing. It’s not physical, it’s something mental. They aren’t sure what happened.”

Obi-Wan takes a deep breath and exhales shakily. Mace grips his shoulder till he stops quivering and asks slowly, “Do you have any idea what exactly happened the past few days?”

“He was almost completely out of it when he got to me.” Obi-Wan murmurs. “He, he said a lot of bad things about himself and a few things that reminded me about how some people talk about the Force. You know, when people call us or our skills unnatural. He wanted to protect someone, I’m not sure if it was the Jedi or the Coruscant Guard or someone else.”

The rest of the ride is quiet and tense.

Cody meets his general and general Windu at the hanger and finds himself, once again, relieved he’s wearing his armor. He’s not sure he’d survive his general finding out about the highly inappropriate reaction he had to the sight of his General beating up the Chancellor of the Republic on behalf of the troopers. His only consolation is the fact that he’s absolutely sure all the vode that aren’t asexual had the same reaction.

He is surprised to see Fox there, he hasn’t spoken to him in too long, and when he had Fox had been exhausted and tense. He’s been getting worried. He falls into step beside Fox as Obi-Wan updates him on the situation and waits till there’s no one near their group and murmurs, “You can take off the helmet if you want Fox. I promise they’re safe.”

Fox pauses, then yanks off his helmet almost violently. There’s more grey in his hair than there was last time, and a pair of scabbed-over cuts on his cheekbone. He looks like he was tired to the bone last week and hadn’t gotten any sleep this week.

“Fox-”

“Shut up.” Fox snaps, almost quiet enough to be missed by the generals, and Cody hesitates but thinks of Fox coming here to check on a severely injured jedi and decides to wait.

The Healer tells them that they can see Vos, but that they must be quiet and keep calm. The handful of Cody’s men that followed him wait so it’s Cody, Fox, Obi-Wan, and Windu that follow the healer into the room, Cody to offer moral support to his general as needed.

“Commander!” The healer yelps in alarm as Fox pushes past her, stripping off his glove and reach for the General’s limp hand, and Cody thinks of Obi-Wan using a rare order to keep Marrow at a distance and wonders what the hell Fox is thinking before Vos twitches, bare fingers curving towards where Fox has his fingers laid gently on his palm.

The healer scowled and examined the machines Vos was hooked up to. “The rest of you, no touching. Keep calm. You,” she pointed at Fox, who ignores her, heartbreak plain as day on his face “don’t move.”

Cody stays near the door, watching. Obi-Wan’s eyes have flicked towards Fox a couple times, but mostly he’s focused on General Vos. Windu is the opposite. The healer finishes examining the machines and holds her hand above Vos’ forehead, before making quiet excuses and leaving.

She comes back with Healer Eerin who preforms the same examination. “Anything wrong?” Obi-Wan asks.

“I don’t think so but I’m staying for the next 20 minutes to watch.”

It’s twenty minutes later that Healer Eerin kicks all of them out to eat except for Fox, who she brings a chair for. “I don’t know why, but your presence if helping him heal. I’m sure you have things to do but if it’s possible for you to stay a little-”

“I’m not leaving him.” Fow states, and Cody thinks of General Vos’s words on the bridge and heartbreak that hasn’t left his face and thinks oh.

They leave the door open when they go just for a bit, and Cody can tell Obi-Wan had the same idea as him because there’s concern and something that could become anger on his face. General Windu’s as inscrutable as always but Cody’s heard enough from Ponds to know the man takes threats to the jedi seriously. He shushes his troopers outside and waits.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s enough time that Cody had wondered if Fox was gonna stay silent and the shaking in his voice alarms him almost as much as the words. “I didn’t mean it I promise Quinlan. It was just a bad day and I snapped I’m sorry. You force-damned idiot it must have been days to find that and get so injured you know the Guard would’ve done anything they could for you even if I was being an asshole, you think Thorn didn’t smack me around the head when I told him? You’re our jedi Quinlan and we need you to wake up, I need you to wake up I can’t apologize properly if you’re sleeping, please, the Guard’s lost too many people please don’t let us loose our crazy jedi too.”

Fox is crying by the end of that, shaky sobs that scratch his throat, and Cody hits the panel to shut the door and turns to the two jedi.

“Well that answers that question.” Windo states. “I think the Commander will be there a while.”

“If it helps Quinlan heal I can’t speak against it.” Obi-Wan muttered. He slumps into a chair, exhausted. “It’s been a day. Who wants to eat?”

“I do.” Cody says. “And then I want to head to the barracks and make Thorn tell me what’s been going on with Fox, because I feel like I’m missing something important.”

Things get better after that, some slowly, some quickly. The Separatists decide it’s in their best interests to surrender to General Kenobi, and the war wraps up quickly with some planets staying separate and many arrests in the leadership (interestingly, a lot of crime groups that deal with jedi more than they would like to also decide to go clean after that footage. Who’d’ve thought?). The troopers learn about their new home with glee and throw themselves into learning how to be things other than soldiers with a mix of joy and apprehension. It takes time for the Coruscant Guard to be fully comfortable with their other brothers, but it’s something that the rest of the troopers work on furiously when they learn how hellish Coruscant had been for them. Anakin gets so much therapy (as do many other people) and the Jedi use time they have now that the war’s over to start distancing themselves a bit from the Senate, trying to ensure that they can’t be forced to lead an army again.

Fox is there when Quinlan wakes up, asleep and holding Quinlan’s hand and there are tears and apologies and promises. The Guard cheers when they get their general back because they love their crazy jedi as much as the other battalions. And the clones and jedi start to heal together.

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spookypanda04 · 4 months

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Hey ehehehehe

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ARSeFXukwGM

YES

#headcannon accepted #but seriously #what if link could actually listen to the game music #literally nothing would ever get done #oh no #the plot bunnies #STORMY WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!?!

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lawfulgoodchaos · 11 hours

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Okay but what if this random portal fantasy idea that started as a novel concept 4 years ago and the morphed to a web comic a year ago was actually a dating sim???

#the plot bunnies #they compel me #wip #writing #art

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adoroborosgoth · 5 months

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My ass out here really turning into spongebob from that fine dining episode. By the time I'm finished with this fic I'm working on all I'll know is everything about ww2 and breathing.

#good omens #send help #lmfao #the plot bunnies #and getting distracted by yet another wiki page #who needs to know the history of ice cream for just one reference

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anthyies · 11 months

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the thing about disco elysium is that it has women in it. what you see on the internet about it might lie to you about that but it has women, gay women even, very compelling women even, in it.

#Directive: THINK ABOUT RUBY THE INSTIGATOR!!!!!!#What was it rave said. This basic concern dooms her!!!!! She’s so good. She’s SO good #Rubyklaasje is literally crucial to the plot happenings and yet there are only like two dozen people who talk about them. Sad. Shut up about #that other guy please stop putting him in bunny suits.#Also thinking about cunoesse. My god cunoesse.#Cindy the skull. Liz!!! Who only shows up for a little but she is so cool. Lilienne i need to replay to go on the date to learn more about #her. Soona she’s so real… Joyce is so much so so so much. And dora and dolores of course.#esha.txt #disco elysium #Seriously.#Klaasje i literally forgot to talk about klaasje I love you problem girl

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ichimerapunk · 2 months

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Plot Bunny: Danny Is A Clone but with a Twist

Fanfics where Danny is a clone of one of the Bats are not unheard of; however, what about this twist to the idea:

So, writer’s choice on how it happens but regardless Danny and Tim realize they are an exact DNA match to each other. Everyone is assuming clone, but Danny has memories of growing up as a Fenton. Despite Danny’s disagreement, the Bats assume that false memories might be at play, but Danny’s birth records are proven to be real and show Danny is only a few months younger than Tim.

After some digging, they uncover that Danny is indeed a clone of Tim except it was because of a fertility clinic error. That Tim’s parents, Janet and Jack Drake, had used a fertility clinic to insure the one baby she was willing to have would come out with all their desired traits (male, no genetic defects, whatnot.). Once the ideal zygote was created it was cloned to have plenty to work with however many insemination procedures it might take.

However, because of an error, some of those eggs ended up being used for Danny’s parents when they used the clinic some weeks/months later. (Without their knowledge and certainly without the Drake’s consent.) And because his parents assumed Danny got his black hair and blue eyes from his dad, they never second-guessed Danny as not being their bio son.

So, Danny is reeling realizing his parents aren’t his bio parents and Tim is reeling over the news he might not even be ‘the original’ considering how many fertilized eggs are generally used during IVF.

So yeah, clones but not out of some nefarious plot or anything. Just mundane human error, dumb luck, and chance.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc prompts #dp x dc prompts #dp x dc writing prompt #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp crossover #dpxdc plot bunny #danny phantom crossover #dp x dc fanfic idea #danny is a clone #but so is Tim

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bunni-art · 6 months

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she be in situations

#this is pretty much the plot huh #this pilot is scratching my brain so good #i wanna make more art for this show omg #i love pomni and she’s literally my personal art style :333 #the amazing digital circus #tadc pomni #tadc #tadc fanart #meme redraw #bunni art tag

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libraryofgage · 9 months

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I realized Steve is absolutely that kid whose parents put him through piano lessons solely so they could have another way to show off at parties and shit. And then that thought morphed into a little Steddie plot bunny and here we are lol:

Steve doesn't know it's the last time he'll sit at the grand piano, the last time he'll press down its keys and let music fill the empty room before bleeding out into the empty house.

He doesn't know that when his parents next come home, his mother will notice how horribly out of tune the instrument is. He doesn't know that it will be sent off somewhere for repair (his parents won't tell him where, no matter how he asks, and he'll never quite understand why) and lost to him. He doesn't know his parents won't bother buying another one; it was only ever there to impress party guests when Steve sat down and played some Bach. Without those parties, company or otherwise, there's no point in getting another one: both the piano and Steve will have outlived their usefulness.

He doesn't know that he'll be storing away his sheet music, carefully placed into folders and in a waterproof box for safekeeping. He doesn't know that he'll soon become too consumed by high school and dating and monsters to idly write down notes on a staff. He doesn't know that when he's swinging a nail-ridden bat in the future (to destroy monsters, sure, but destruction is destruction, right?) he'll ache with the pain of missing the act of creation as a means of stress relief.

He doesn't know any of that, so Steve sits down at the grand piano with a soft smile, gently trailing his fingers over the keys before lining them up in the Middle C-position. He runs through a few warm-ups, letting muscle memory take him away, so he doesn't have to think. Without another thought, he seamlessly transitions into idly playing, bits and pieces of everything he remembers and songs he's heard blending together.

Mozart's Air morphs into Beethoven's Fur Elise into Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody. It doesn't all sound good together, but that's not the point when Steve plays by himself. All that matters is letting his brain shut off for a bit, letting the notes and echoes mingle together to create something new and joyful.

After two hours on the piano, his wrists are aching; he always forgets to hold them in the proper position when he plays alone. But it's a good ache, one that reminds him of the music still dancing around in his brain.

Steve takes a deep breath and slowly releases it, feeling the last of his tension dissipate. He lets his hands linger on the piano for a little longer before standing and leaving the room, tragically unaware of his imminent and unavoidable loss.

--------

Steve is sprawled across an old couch in Gareth's garage, reading Eddie's well-loved copy of Lord of the Rings. He'd promised to at least give it a go, and he had to admit he was looking forward to finally understanding some of the references Hellfire Club and the kids make. His progress is slow, but he's almost halfway through after two weeks of work. Reading while Corroded Coffin practices helps; the background noise of their music is perfect, letting him ignore all other sounds and focus.

Of course, that's provided they actually play continuously instead of starting the same song over and over only for Eddie to stop them halfway through. When it happens for the sixth time, Eddie growls in frustration, tugging harshly at a lock of hair. "It still sounds wrong!" he cries, dropping into a crouch while cradling his guitar close.

"Stopping us halfway through isn't helping," Gareth points out, idly twirling a drumstick as he watches Eddie's lament.

"Do you know what's wrong yet?" Asher asks.

Steve can longer focus on Lord of the Rings. Instead, he places the book on his chest and looks at the band to watch how this plays out. Eddie scowls and looks up at Asher. "Unfortunately, Ashy Baby, no."

Jeff, meanwhile, has locked eyes with Steve. And because Jeff knows the perfect way to get Eddie off their asses is to get him on Steve's instead, he says, "Why don't you ask Harrington what he thinks?"

Eddie whips around to look at Steve, eyes wide and hopeful. He doesn't even bother standing from his crouch, instead waddling his way over to Steve and testing his ability to hold back laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of the sight. "Stevie, baby, sweetheart, lover boy, please tell me that wonderful brain of yours has an idea so your favorite boyfriend can finish this rocking song."

"You're my only boyfriend."

"Which automatically makes me your favorite," Eddie points out, grinning as he leans closer. With Steve still laying down, Eddie's the perfect height in his crouch to kiss him. He lingers for a few seconds before pulling away, and Steve knows his own smile matches the dopiness of Eddie's.

"Have you considered adding a piano?" Steve asks.

"None of us know how to play," Asher says, and Steve would look at him if Eddie's face and hair and shoulders and everything weren't filling his entire line of sight.

Without thinking, Steve hums and says, "I do."

"Do what?" Eddie asks.

"Know how to play piano."

There's a silence that follows his sentence, one that makes Steve's stomach lurch as he wonders if he's maybe fucked up the shaky peace and friendship he's finally managed to build with the other members of Corroded Coffin. He doesn't know how his words might have done it, but he's scrambling to somehow take them back when Eddie slaps a hand over his mouth, the bands of his rings pressing against Steve's lips.

"Gareth, you still got that keyboard?" he asks, keeping his eyes locked on Steve. There's a light dancing in them like he's just discovered magic is real, like Steve has amazed him beyond imagination.

With a grunt, Gareth gets up from his drums and steps into his house. The rest of them stay in silence while waiting, Eddie refusing to remove his hand no matter how much Steve licks his palm. When he finally gives up and just glares at Eddie, his boyfriend grins brightly back.

"It's a little dusty, but it'll work fine," Gareth says when he comes back, and Eddie finally moves his hand and body, allowing Steve to see Gareth setting up a keyboard a few feet away from his drums.

"Okay, sweetheart," Eddie says, taking the book from Steve and carefully setting it aside before pulling him off the couch, "you've heard the song enough. Play what's missing."

Steve hesitates before walking over to the keyboard. Eddie sticks to him like a shadow, sliding his arms around Steve from behind once he's standing in front of the white and black keys. An odd nervousness churns in Steve, tugging at his spine and making his palms clammy, but he knows it would be much worse without Eddie there. If he had to play in front of the band without feeling like anyone was on his side, he'd probably just throw up instead.

"It, uh, it's been a while," he says quietly, easily falling into the muscle memory of tracing the keys and finding Middle C and dancing his fingers through warm-ups despite his words.

Eddie squeezes him tighter as Jeff asks, "Since you've played? Why?"

Memories of his grand piano rise in Steve unbidden, overwhelming him in a rush of longing for the instrument itself and the relaxation of playing. "My parents paid for lessons and had me play at company parties. They, uh, sent it off to be tuned, but it got damaged, and they didn't get another one."

"That sucks, Stevie," Eddie murmurs, soft and reassuring and Steve suddenly feels far more confident.

He looks up at Jeff. "Can you start playing again?" he asks, flashing a grateful smile when Jeff nods and starts strumming the song's opening notes.

Steve listens closely, breathing in the tune he's heard so many times and letting it take hold. He doesn't allow himself to actually think, letting Jeff's guitar and Eddie's arms and hair and scent drown out everything else. Before he knows it, he's playing a hesitant tune that grows with confidence as he follows the song laid out before him. He's always a measure behind, chasing the guitar's echoing notes as they fade.

He and Jeff make it through the whole song without Eddie telling them to stop. When the final notes of guitar and piano echo together, the latter still chasing the former even at the end, Steve is shaking with excitement and anxiety and grief and joy.

He lets out a slow breath, feeling tension he didn't even realize had lingered for so long finally draining from his shoulders and dissipating. Steve can also feel Eddie's face pressed against his neck, a smile searing into his skin as Eddie squeezes him even tighter.

"I love you so fucking much, Stevie, that's exactly what was missing," Eddie says, his words the only warning he gives before pulling Steve away from the keyboard and off his feet and spinning him around. His surprised yelp quickly morphs into laughter that still lingers even after Eddie has set him down again.

Gareth and Jeff and Asher have already started discussing how the other parts of the song might change with the addition of a keyboard, but Steve is too busy turning in Eddie's arms and kissing his smile away to pay them any mind. He can worry about inevitably being roped into the band's practices later, after he and Eddie are breathless and flushed and smiling bright.

#steddie fic #Steddie #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Corroded Coffin #Stranger Things #My writing #I got this plot bunny and fucking ran with it

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