🌷trash 🌷

aw yeah bluey time

Something about how Jason Todd’s core character trait is how he lost faith. He lost faith in Shiela, in Bruce, in the entire concept that someone else can care about him and actually have his best interests at heart.

Something about how Catholic priest Flashpoint Jason Todd is someone who has such intense faith, who trust so heavily in someone basically unprovable. Something about how without Bruce, without being Robin, it was his faith that was his core character trait.

Something about how being Robin and the life he was led into changed him in such a tragic and deep seeded way. I don’t know

summer with emi

Could you write a prompt with a whumpee with a leg injury (maybe a stabbing or something) who has to completely act like nothing’s wrong because they’re walking back home with their friend who is already suspicious and they can’t let them know (for some reason)? Sorry that this is uber-specific.

No 4. Dead on Your Feet

Hidden Injury | Waking Up Disoriented | Can’t Pass Out

The night air hit Whumpee’s face in a rush. Their eyes flickered close, soaking in the warmth for a single moment before they had to keep moving. Whumpee followed Caretaker into the street, sprinting to a nearby alley that they could only barely see through the tears blurring their vision.

Their leg was a cacophony of pain. Blood had seeped down a good half of their pant leg, blessedly invisible against the black fabric in the dark night. Each step felt like it sent shards of glass into their bone, as though the knife was still embedded there. It wasn’t, which created more problems, as now they were bleeding out a lot faster.

“Whumpee, hurry up,” Caretaker hissed. Whumpee winced at how strained their voice was, even in a whisper. Maybe now that they’d finally gotten the job done, Caretaker would get some rest.

“Sorry,” they breathed back, fighting against a limp as they reached their friend.

Caretaker glanced back at Whumper’s base where it loomed behind them, jaw twitching in the dim light the street lamps provided. “If no alarm has been raised by now, we probably have until that guard you knocked out wakes back up. Are you okay walking back home?”

Whumpee furrowed their eyebrows. “Yes? Why wouldn’t I be?” They took another step and briefly found themselves unable to breathe. Lovely.

“Just making sure,” Caretaker said slowly, eyes just a little too perceptive. Whumpee stayed on the inside as they moved into the street, hugging the buildings and the shadows that clung to them. Their ragged breaths seemed to give life to the walls towering on either side, making them tilt and sway, the ground swelling.

Their shoulder hit the brick wall hard.

Caretaker turned towards them, face shadowed in the hazy streetlight. “Whumpee?”

Whumpee screwed their eyes shut, using the wall to push themself back upright. “Yeah. I’m good. Just tired, I guess.”

They didn’t get a response from that, only Caretaker watching them, a silhouette in the dark that Whumpee would give up everything for. Their leg was a deAad weight beneath them now, heavy like lead and filled with glass that bit deep into their skin, their muscle, their bones, with each hesitant movement. Whumpee locked their knee when putting weight on it (wouldn’t want to be caught limping, would they?).

The world was still spinning. Whumpee leaned their head back and looked at the sky for a moment to try and disguise it, to hide the tears building in their eyes as sure as the headache embedded in their skull. “The sky is beautiful tonight,” they whispered. Not that they could see it.

Caretaker let out a small breath. “Yes, it is.” Their tone was softer now, and something gentle stirred in Whumpee’s chest.

“We should get home before Whumper wakes up,” Whumpee continued in that same soft tone. “You need sleep.”

“Is that honestly what you’re worried about right now?” Caretaker snorted, but there was no malice behind it. “You look exhausted yourself. But we deserve to celebrate tonight.”

Whumpee’s tears receded and they dropped their head back down. Their throat burned with the effort when they spoke. “Yeah. You’re right.”

Caretaker deserved to have a night of celebration more than anyone else. Whumpee wouldn’t take that away from them for the world. They walked on in silence, Whumpee’s hands burrowed deep in their pockets. Their fists were clenched against the pain, but beyond that, their extremities were getting very, very cold. They were almost surprised there wasn’t ice crusting along their fingertips, despite the warm night. Best to just keep moving.

Their vision was shifting in and out of focus, flashes of black coming in when they were certain they hadn’t blinked. They were shaking from the effort of keeping their leg moving, now. Their muscles were growing stiff around the weeping wound. Still, they kept their back straight. They kept their knees locked. Their breaths grew more and more labored, burning their lungs, but their breaths were there.

Then their leg buckled underneath them, and none of it mattered.

The world swung back into place slowly above them, circling and circling like water going down the drain, long after Whumpee had gone still. A muffled ringing filled their head. A noise was lingering beneath that, thick and soft like whoever it was was yelling through a mattress.

Why did it all hurt so much?

A face appeared right above them, blocking out the golden streetlights. Whumpee stared blankly. They were terrible at reading lips, and for some reason Caretaker was just mouthing words. Or—no, they were speaking. Whumpee just couldn’t hear them.

After a moment, Caretaker seemed to realize this. Their face was creased deeply in worry, and Whumpee felt a spear of guilt thrust into them at the realization that that was their fault.

“‘m sorry,” they forced out. Caretaker froze. Their expression changed, tightening. When they spoke again, it was very deliberate, so that Whumpee could make out what they were saying.

“Can you hear me?” The lips said. Whumpee shook their head, closing their eyes as the world dipped around them. Caretaker waited until they were looking again. “Where are you hurt?”

Whumpee hesitated, tears rising to their eyes again. They didn’t want Caretaker to have to deal with it.

Something like anger swelled in Caretaker’s eyes. They grabbed onto Whumpee’s chin, forcing their gazes to meet. The intensity of Caretaker’s expression cowed them, and one of their shaking hands reached down towards their leg, then slumped down in defeat.

Instantly Caretaker was down beside it, ripping away the soaked pant leg. Whumpee was pretty sure they screamed as it came away from the wound. They didn’t have time to think about it, though, because they promptly passed out.

When Whumpee woke up, their hands were warm, and their clothes were dry. It took them a moment to process anything else.

Slowly, they opened their eyes, rubbing the sleep from them. They didn’t remember going to bed.

“You’re awake,” a strained voice said. Whumpee sat up, wincing at a pain in their leg. Caretaker was sitting at their bedside, face like stone and eyes red and bloodshot.

Another sleepless night on their part. Whumpee could have drowned in their guilt. Their hands felt out the lump in the covers where their bandages were.

“I passed out,” they remembered. Their voice was weak.

Caretaker took a deep breath. “Yes.”

“I don’t—” they started, then deflated under Caretaker’s hard eyes. “I thought I could make it.”

“Clearly.”

“I’m sorry.”

“…I don’t understand.” Caretaker crossed their arms over their chest. They hadn’t accepted Whumpee’s apology. Whumpee waited for them to continue. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Whumpee’s eyes dropped. “I. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I’m worried now, Whumpee.” Their voice was sharp as a dagger. Something dark flared across Caretaker’s face, receding just as quickly. Whumpee knew it was still there. They just nodded, morose.

A thin silence stretched between them. Whumpee’s head started pounding, and they leaned back against their pillows.

“I went for a walk this morning,” Caretaker said suddenly. “When you were still asleep. I was tired of sitting here.” They swallowed, brows lowering over their eyes. “You left a trail of blood last night, did you know that? I could follow your footprints all the way back to Whumper’s. And last night I didn’t even notice.” Their voice broke off suddenly, and for the first time Whumpee noticed tears in their eyes. “Why didn’t I notice?”

Whumpee hugged themself. “It’s not your fault.”

“No, it’s not my fault that you decided to just ignore your stab wound. It is my fault that I noticed something was wrong and I didn’t do anything until you were bleeding out on the ground.” Caretaker’s voice was raised now, and they cut themself off with a grimace. Their voice was soft the next time they spoke, but still shimmering with anger. “Were you going to tell me?”

“Caretaker…”

“No. Answer the question, Whumpee.”

“…no.”

All the air seemed to leave Caretaker at once. They slumped over, elbows resting on their knees and face in their hands. Whumpee had never seen them brought so low.

“Why?” they asked again, and it sounded almost begging.

Whumpee didn’t have an answer. They just sat there battling back their tears, because Caretaker deserved to feel upset without Whumpee stealing the moment again.

When Caretaker lifted their head up, their eyes were wet. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. I am going to go get you some food and medicine. When I get back, I am going to be calm, and you are going to have some damn good answers for me.”

They stood up while Whumpee cringed and nodded. As they got to the door, Caretaker looked back.

“And Whumpee?”

“Mm.”

“Never let this happen again.”

—

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on death with 1. lilies abounded, @petfurniture, twitter; 2. frances molina, “o’death”

NO SHOT MOTHER INNIT IS BROTHER TRUTHING ON MAIN LIKE THIS

today i offered nothing. good night everyone!!!

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Some ineffable sketches :3