Y'all notice how much attention Timon gives Pumbaa's tusks? He's always grabbing them, pulling them, walking his fingers up them... So imma just say, Timon 100% does tusk worship. He's downright OBSESSED with Pumbaa's tusks. They're so strong and powerful, I mean, shit; isn't that the feature Timon pointed out in The Lion King 1½?
"Do you see any other big lovable chunk of warthog here who also happens to have razor-sharp tusks and the ability to repel predators?"
So yeah, Tusk worship. Y'all do whatever you want with that idea lmao
(( I fucking did it. It hurt to write, but I did it! This fic was inspired by my bud, Camy! She has a talent for giving us all the Timon Angst we need, and ironically, the title of this fic is "All I Need." I hope y'all enjoy reading it! Tagging my Lion King pals - @timona-lisa @just-aal @cammiko-arts ))
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All I Need
Pumbaa had done his job, as far as Timon was concerned. He'd gotten him to his little "worry-free haven" out by that big pointy rock, and let him in on that "special power" he tried to hold back– well, 'hold in' is more like it. And to Pumbaa's surprise, the meerkat hadn't minded; no, he *complimented* him on his so-called "weapon" and even joked! Not a cruel joke like the ones he was used to hearing, but one that made Pumbaa feel like for once, he wasn't alone in this big empty world.
Maybe this was the start of a beautiful friendship - even if the little guy distanced himself at the mere mention of the word. Maybe, just maybe, once he gets to know Pumbaa more, he'll be more open to the idea!
Or at least, that's the thought that kept Pumbaa going. He was holding onto hope, and Timon's reaction after his... 'second wind'... had given him more hope to hold on to, if only he'd known it was false hope.
"This is it, buddy boy." He heard Timon say as he squeezed out from under a rock shelter in the ground. He called him "buddy", that had to mean something! Right...?
"Home, sweet home!" Timon works to string a vine between two trees. "And I don't gotta share it with anybody." He finished as he climbed onto Pumbaa's back, tossed his vine around the other tree, and laughed.
Oh... Well, maybe he meant they didn't have to share it with anybody! Yeah, that's probably it.
"Don't you get, you know, lonely out here?" Pumbaa asked, hopeful that the answer would be 'of course not, not with you around!'
"Lonely?" Timon asks as he knots the vine. "Try commitment-free." He climbs into his self-made hammock. "The elbow-to-elbow life reminds me a little too much of home. This place has everything." Pumbaa hands Timon a drink, which he takes with no second thought and keeps rattling on. "Cool refreshments, cozy little hammock, a lovely water feature. And it's all mine."
Oh. There was no other way to take that. Pumbaa was crestfallen, and he did a poor job of hiding it. Maybe Timon would notice...
"Oh. Well... It's really coming together, Timon. So, uh," Pumbaa starts to walk away. "So, I guess I'll just be going."
Timon watches Pumbaa walk away, he thinks for a moment, but shrugs and goes back to lying down in his hammock. Pumbaa looks back, hangs his head, and continues to walk away. So much for the start of a beautiful... "acquaintanceship."
After a while of lying around, the sun sets and the winds change. Timon climbs out of his hammock and decides to settle under the rock shelter, even if the ground will be cold.
Two nests. Well, he wasn't expecting that. One nest was larger than the other; the perfect size for... oh.
Pumbaa must've made those before he left, but if he was planning on staying then why did he leave?
"Was it something I said...?" Timon mumbled under his breath. He climbed over the smaller nest and settled into the bigger one, curling into a fetal position. Elbow room... It's what he wanted.
He thought back to what Pumbaa said, "Don't you get, you know, lonely?"
Lonely. It was a feeling he was all too familiar with, even among his fellow meerkat colony members, he always felt like the odd one out. And then, the big lug started throwing around words like "friendship", and that meant commitment! That meant letting someone in, and he couldn't do that! No way, that means caring... that means giving someone the power to hurt you... and trusting that they won't. It's too risky, besides, he's better off alone.
Timon sighs, and despite the heavy, melancholy feeling that's settling in, he begins to mumble...
And I'll be sitting in my hammock,
By a rippling stream.
Many miles from any tunnels,
Or the digging team.
Looking out for number one,
Will be my only greed...
That's all I need,
...That's all...I...
Oh, who was he fooling? Pumbaa wanted to stay, and Timon, like the mook he is, pushed away the one-- ah... Warthog... who wanted his company! Now, he may be a mook, and may not be the brightest, but he's not a COMPLETE dumbass. It could either be that drink Pumbaa gave him earlier, or he's having another epiphany! Though it's kind of hard to think with all that triumphant music blaring...
As if the universe was trying to give him a sign, a tiny rock unlodged from the top of the shelter and bonked Timon on the head.
"Ow! Oy..." He rubbed the bump; it just had to be the same place that the crazy monkey whacked him with his stick earlier. Wait a minute...
"I've gotta find Pumbaa!" His voice echoed throughout the shelter, and as he bolted up to begin the search, he could've sworn that somewhere in the distance, he could hear the baboon laughing.
(( Haha, so if you guys didn't know, I like musicals. One of the musicals I was really into back in high school was Dear Evan Hansen, and I got to see it live -- though, not with Ben Platt, but still. This song was hitting me in all my Timon Angst Feels because FUCK, it really does fit him. This song also used to make me sob my eyes out -- I say, as if I DIDN'T sob my eyes out while writing this, lol. Enjoy your angst, and stick around til the end for the upbeat part! ))
(( @pumbaa-de-milo @just-aal @timona-lisa ))
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Timon sat in the grass nest, trying his best to feign indifference about the whole situation. Simba had taken off on them — on him — and Pumbaa was taking his side? He was the one who said: "Friends stick together 'til the end," and now the hog was turning his own words against him?
"When the world turns its back on you, you turn your back on the world."
That mantra had been with him from the very beginning, how could he have been so foolish? Trading in the words that helped him survive for ones that gave him a false sense of hope? "Hakuna Matata?" Hah! It sure didn't feel like there weren't any worries right now.
They were supposed to be his friends — his family. Now they were, what? Abandoning him? Leaving him deserted? Stranded?
The sound of Pumbaa's hooves hitting the ground as he chased after Simba filled the silence until he'd gone far enough that Timon couldn't hear them anymore.
He was alone, just like he always had been, and that meant there was no one to put up a front for. No one to prove that he was okay, perfectly happy, and secure with himself. The mask could slip off completely, and he let it.
He allowed it to slip and shatter into billions of broken pieces — was he ever whole to begin with? Or was he simply hanging on by a thread? Maybe it was two threads; one attached to Pumbaa, and the other to Simba. The further they got, the more he began to unravel, until there was nothing to hold onto.
Timon brought his knees up to his chest, hugging himself as if that'd keep him from falling apart. The tears began to roll down his cheeks, but the only sound he'd made was a bitter scoff while wiping them.
"I never meant to make it such a mess. I never thought that it would go this far," He mumbled to himself. "So I just stand here sorry… Searching for something to say…"
Something to say.
…
Words fail, words fail. There's nothing I can say.
Timon thought back to his past — his colony days were finally catching up to him after he'd spent years running from them. He shook his head, did he ever even have a shot at a care-free life?
I guess I thought I could be part of this, I never had this kind of thing before. I never had that perfect guy who somehow could see the good part of me…
But Pumbaa had, and Timon messed that up like he messed everything up for himself. Why couldn't he just allow himself to be happy? Was he always like this? Self-loathing, self-sabotaging, on the brink of self-destruction at any point?
I never had the dad who stuck it out. No corny jokes or baseball gloves… No mom who just was there. 'Cause mom was all that she had to be…
Red-hot rage bubbled to the surface at his thoughts. How dare he even think for a second — Ma had done her best raising him on her own, and she was there for him as much as she could have been. Always encouraging him even through his screw up's… He wouldn't pin this on her. He couldn't blame anybody but himself.
That's not a worthy explanation, I know there is none. Nothing can make sense of all these things I've done.
Why had he left the colony to begin with? What was he expecting to find out here? Proof that he wasn't a failure? He sure didn't find that, in fact, he found the opposite. Timon the tunnel klutz, Timon the screw-up, Timon… Forever alone. He laughed through a sob — how ironic it had been. That last name was one that he'd given himself, and it was the most accurate.
Words fail, words fail. There's nothing I can say — Except sometimes, you see everything you wanted… And sometimes, you see everything you wish you had. And it's right there, right there, right there… In front of you.
And you want to believe it's true…
So you... make it true.
And you think, maybe, everybody wants it…
And needs it,
A little bit... too.
Maybe that's all it had been. He saw Pumbaa and Simba and thought they'd all be lonely together. That maybe, they could all shut out the world, leave everything behind, and he wouldn't feel alone in the world. He wanted it so bad that he missed the signs, and reality came crashing down around him as it all fell apart. Had they ever cared about him the way he cared about them? Or were they just waiting for their chance to leave him in the dust?
….
This was just a sad invention.
It wasn't real, I know.
But we were happy.
I guess I couldn't let that go…
I guess I couldn't give that up…
I guess I wanted to believe,
Cause if I just believe,
Then I don't have to see what's really there.
The thoughts kept going through his head, and he wished he could make them stop, but he didn't have the energy to repress them anymore. Every negative thought, every insecurity he had was pouring out, and part of him believed he deserved this. Maybe he deserved to be alone — maybe it was better off this way.
No, I'd rather pretend I'm something better than these broken parts.
Pretend I'm something other than this MESS that I am.
'Cause then I don't have to look at it, and NO ONE gets to look at it.
No, no one can really see…
Timon was spiraling out of control, but he didn't care anymore. How was that for "Hakuna Matata"? He didn't care. He'd pretended for so long, it was long overdue, and everything he'd held in for all those years would be let loose, right here, right now.
Cause I've learned to slam on the brake, before I even turn the key.
Before I make the mistake — Before I lead with the WORST of me.
I never let them see the worst of me…
It was building up. It was too much, he was gonna blow like the ticking time bomb he was—
Timon took a deep breath, but not in an attempt to calm himself. No, he'd gathered all the air he could and released it with a yell that echoed throughout the jungle. Huffing and puffing, he'd blown off the steam, and all that was left was a hollow feeling.
'Cause what if everyone saw?
What if everyone knew?
Would they like what they saw?
Or would they hate it too?
Will I just keep on running away from what's true?
"All I ever do is run," Timon mumbled to himself.
It was the truth, he'd been running from himself for so long, he didn't know where the act ended and the real him began.
"So how do I step in… step into the sun?"
He'd have to pull himself out of the darkness. The skylight was a failure, not because it had crumbled around him, but because he tried to bring the light underground. He couldn't keep his head buried in the sand anymore, he had to do what he set out to do.
"What am I doing? Pumbaa and Simba need me — my family needs me!" Timon shot up, and although he knew he probably looked like a complete mess, that didn't matter. All that mattered was his family, and he just hoped it wasn't too late.
He'd run as far as he could until his legs gave out on him — good thing Pumbaa hadn't gone too far.
Need my blorbos to meet so badly 'cause honestly, it'd be hilarious. Can see Timon eyeing Felix's hammer (for fucksake– THE ACTUAL TOOL) and being like "Whoo-hoo-hoo! That looks heavy-- say, I got an idea, you let me hold it for you!" And then lunging for it, only for him to come face-to-fist with Tammy.
Cue Timon being a dumb bitch, not even looking at Tammy and saying "Hey, heeeeey! Scram, buddy! I was here first!" and then looking up– and up, and up...and up...
Timon: [dumb of all ass, loud of mouth.] "Say, ah.. Toots, who might you be?"
He's about to get his fucking ass handed to him, when Felix cuts in like "Oh! This is Tammy, my beautiful wife🥰"
Timon, the nasty little shit he is, shoves his pinky in his ear. "I'm sorry, I think I misheard you. She's *hmm?*"
"M'wife! <3"
Timon's gonna fucking shit himself. But he can't judge; after all, he and Pumbaa have a major size difference too.
