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#i guess. this got away from me
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If we for a moment forgo canon events and disagreements then I do wholeheartedly hope and believe that Todd and Neil get married during the '70s. It's a sunny afternoon on the perfect day in mid-spring and the light is at its thickest and most golden and Charlie got registered as an officiant just for this day and not everybody's present - Meeks can't make it from Switzerland on short notice, but they get a photo of him and prop it up on the coffee table at the perfect angle to see. Neil keeps wondering if he's going to get the pre-wedding jitters and does end up pacing around the living room early in the morning, but it's less cold feet and more impatience. (Turns out it's kind of hard to get cold feet when your almost-husband is sitting drowsily on the couch to keep you company and he keeps almost nodding off and you keep remembering all the ways in which you love him.) Ginny barges in at noon with hairspray and a sewing kit and insists on making bouquets with shitty grocery store flowers for both of them and Todd's suit ends up with a hastily added elbow patch and Neil's tie doesn't match his pocket square, because one's from Cameron and the other's from Knox. (Something borrowed, something blue...) It's perfect. In the end they go out on the balcony and Charlie's wearing this really tacky priest outfit, just really shitty fabric so that he's probably sweating bullets, and the collar's come untucked, and at the last moment Chris shrieks, "You forgot your bouquets!" and throws one with such good aim it hits Todd in the face. But they get through the vows and both of them only cry a little, because Cameron cries enough for all of them combined, and then that's it - over - and married. And as Charlie beams and says they can kiss there's a well-timed shower of rice from the balcony above, and congratulations, from some upstairs neighbours and well-wishers. Pitts catches the kiss on his expensive video camera and he also catches the cheering, which is so loud that, four blocks away, a lone man packing up his street food van pauses in closing boxes and thinks that there must be a party going on. He's right. And at the end of the night when the last loved one leaves and shuts the door gently behind them to not disturb the newlyweds lying together on the couch, silent with happiness, it's still perfect. At that moment it doesn't matter that there is no piece of paper, or no registry office, or that if Todd has an accident Neil might not be able to visit him in the hospital room. There will be tears for those things, but they come later. For now they're married. The beautiful thing never changes.
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theloveinc · 21 days
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mating press is so objectively ugly ... embarrassing
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rorvk · 11 months
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nice ears idiot
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dustykneed · 30 days
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leave him alone he's on his period...
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redrobin-detective · 7 months
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Something I wonder about Simon and Betty's relationship is how long they were together before the whole crown ordeal. But they were engaged, you say. My aunt (in)famously met my uncle and had a ring on her finger in 8 weeks. We've seen that both Betty and Simon were both weird outcasts, crazy determined and a pinch insane. I would not be surprised if they decided they'd met their one true love and got engaged super quick.
My point being, Betty's shifting to revolve around Simon and Simon's rose colored glasses of their relationship feels very much like New Love. They're people who love each other and love being a couple but still haven't quite figured out how to coexist together, as two people in a partnership. I feel like if they'd known each other longer, lived together longer, some of the issues we're seeing would have probably self resolved.
I don't think their relationship is toxic nor is it totally perfect. It's two lonely, most likely neurodivergent people in a relatively early relationship still figuring out how it works. Everything that happened afterwards: the crown, the seperation, the time travel, the magic/madness/sadness just exemplified issues they had both as individuals and as a couple.
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1495-gauge · 1 month
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there's that fucked up three-eyed thing that lives in the woods. whose turn is it to chase it off again??
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mickeym4ndy · 2 months
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the road not taken looks real good now
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ianashas-palace · 1 year
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So what if they flirted even more in Leblanc
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desertfangs · 17 days
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Imagine being a housekeeper at Trinity Gate and your horror book club starts reading The Vampire Lestat and you're like oh yeah, that whole publicity stunt with the band in the 80s. And then you get invested and you're reading through the books and you get to The Vampire Armand, and realize the young people who live in this house--when they live there, they travel a lot--seem so much like the ones described on the pages, and how everyone's asleep during the day, and surely that's just a coincidence, New York is full of eccentric rich people with strange habits.
But you start to wonder... so maybe in your free time you dig up the tax records and see they're under some corporation you can't possibly hope to trace. And then you read Prince Lestat and remember when the house was clearly full of guests who never appeared while you were working, the kitchen always strangely devoid of food... The pieces click into place. You're not going to say anything, this is a damn good job, and it pays so much better than the housekeeping jobs at neighboring houses. Besides, it's a good gig to rarely see the people you're working for. And anyhow, maybe you're just making up stories.
But when you do see them, you can't help but notice some oddities... the parlor of their skin, the strange way they move or more unsettingly don't move. One night you see one of your bosses in the garden, and can't stop staring at how the moonlight glows against their pale skin...
And then you wake up at home. Your head is fuzzy. You must have gone out last night but you don't remember. You panic you're late for work but suddenly can't remember where you work or when. That's odd. You remember your name, your birthday, what year it is (although you thought it was a week earlier than your phone seems to claim). And your checking account is full. Fuller than you ever remember it being. You frown at your phone. And then your eyes dance over to your bookshelf. You see a stack of vampire books and feel uneasy. You take them to the library and donate them all, wanting them out of your home for reasons you can't explain.
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aether-weather · 8 months
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SAGESUNE MIKU >:DDD
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mayasaura · 9 months
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Gideon feels so unloved all the time and she doesn’t know that there are so many people who love her so much because those people keep forgetting to mention it to her face
I know what you mean. I want to just shake Harrow like a kitten to make her tell her!!
In way tho, to me, the tragedy of Gideon's life is that she feels unloved, and for the most part she's been right. She's bright, brilliant, funny, strong, dedicated, kind, stubborn, so so angry, and very loveable. And she hasn't been loved. Not enough, and not well enough by those that did.
Harrow's loved her... Probably their whole lives, but just try untangling that knot. She has a lot of ground to make up, and only got her shit together enough to start showing Gideon she loves her about sixteen hours before Gideon died. Sixteen hours, half of those spent asleep, against a lifetime of rejection. It's not really surprising Gideon doesn't believe her yet.
Aiglamene basically raised her, and she does love her, and I am deeply unwell about their relationship. I'm also a little glad Gideon never learned to associate the back of Aiglamene's hand with "love". That she knows there should be something better. I suspect—maybe I hope—Aiglamene did that on purpose.
Pyrrha has loved her since she was born, but she's only just barely met her. Her love didn't lead her down to the surface of the Ninth. She never tried to give her baby girl a funeral, and so never found out she was still alive. Her love did jackshit for Gideon all her life, and that might be hard for Gideon to get over.
There have been brushes with it, with other people. Palamedes, who was the closest thing she had to a friend outside Harrow. He held her hand and comforted her, and made sure she wouldn't be caught in his blast radius. Camilla who gave her medical care, and shared with her a mutual trust, and even made a joke at her expense once. Jeannemary, who thought she was super cool and died the same day Gideon first spoke to her. Coronabeth, who kissed her hand once and thought she was sweet. There was love there, with some, and the potential with others. None of these people knew her for more than the last few weeks of her life.
Gideon really truly hasn't been loved as a transitive verb. Someone finally telling her to her face would be a good start, but at this point I don't know what it's gonna take for her to trust. And I don't blame her.
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little-pondhead · 2 months
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The Folly of Men -
Chapter 1: #355E3B
AO3 - MASTERPOST
[GENERAL TW: Swearing, lukewarm violence, lots of POV changes, and mild body horror.]
[Fair warning, guys: Canon is a ball pit, and I’m throwing a baby into it. I have no clue what's happening. Feel free to point out mistakes!]
-
Danny was starting to hate the color green. It was the color of death.
Green reminded him of the portal that killed him, and the electricity that was constantly humming under his skin. It reminded him of being on the wrong end of an ecto-blaster and having to dodge for dear life. It reminded him of choking plants that swallowed him whole and tried to turn him into fertilizer. It reminded him of his glowing eyes and how they seemed to take up his entire face when he looked at himself in the mirror.
And right now, as he lay weakly on his side, grasping at fresh wounds with shaky fingers as he tried to ice them closed, the green blood that was splattered everywhere reminded him he wasn’t human.
Not anymore.
-
Green was a familiar color to Ra’s al Ghul. It was the color of life. 
Green reminded him of the Lazarus Pits, mostly. When it was the reason he’d lived such a long life, how could it not be the first thing he thought of? Green also reminded him of his cloak and the warmth it wrapped him in during the cold desert nights when his wife was still alive. Of the beauty he saw in the natural world and why he wanted to protect it. It reminded him of his green eyes that have been passed down through his very few children and grandchildren. Green was the color of the al Ghuls and represented the power he’d amassed through centuries of hard work. 
And right now, as he stood before the Well of Sins, Ra’s was reminded of a secret contract that was buried deep within his personal records, and the monster he’d made it with. The Gardener, the creature called itself, was a being who had crawled out of a Lazarus Pit years ago in search of Ra’s. Its flesh was made from thorny vines and grasses intertwined, and its eyes were tiny red blooms that glowed and made him feel sick just thinking about it. It had forced him into the contract, exchanging power and knowledge in return for a promise of help in the near future. 
‘Near future,’ my ass. Timothy Drake's fleeting voice flickered in his mind, and he could only agree with his subconscious's crude words. It seemed like the only appropriate term as it had already been several centuries since the contract was made, and the being had yet to claim its part of the deal.
He watched, mind racing, as the Well of Sins started swirling frantically. He was alone, with his attendants on standby. Should he call them in? No. Whatever was causing the strange reaction in the pool had something to do with that contract. He could feel it. A power was tugging at his heart, drawing him closer to the edge of the green waters. He loathed to admit it, but this was beyond his scientific understanding. He just knew that every time he tried to look away and leave, his whole body felt like it was alight with flame.
So he stood. And he stared. For hours, possibly, before the first sign of something new caught his attention. A screeching sound was echoing from the bottom of the pool. It slowly got louder and higher pitched as the stone floor started glowing so bright Ra's almost risked the pain of glancing away.
A large head was making its way through the bottom of the pool. It went slowly to accommodate large shoulders, followed by a wide chest and narrow waist. The figure paid no mind to the churning of the Well of Sins and broke the surface of the waters with the ease of a seasoned swimmer. The screeching sound echoed wildly, bouncing unnaturally throughout the chamber, sounding more like incomprehensible words. Ra's wanted to plug his ears with wax and banish the figure back where it came from. Instead, he didn't even twitch an eye.
The Gardener stood before him. And it was carrying a body.
"Master of Lazarusss," it hissed, inclining its head in acknowledgment, but making no move to exit the pool. "Too long has it been, has it not? I've come to collect on my part of the deal."
Ra's nodded in return. Higher being or not, he refused to bow to anyone. "I've expected this, Gardener." He said roughly. Despite learning their language years ago, the sharp chirps and clicks made by the dead were difficult to sound out. It was like he was trying to mimic a broken radio. "Although it's taken longer than I expected for your arrival."
The Gardener clicked its beak in annoyance. "Don't give me flowery words, Pretender. It was not my choice whether to appear before you or not. The Scepter of our realm visited me long ago and commanded me thus; I only now see her vision behind it."
"I...see." He did not see, thank you very much. That was more information in two sentences than he'd ever managed to get from the Gardener. Were there others at play in this little contract of theirs? He did not like the idea of that. "And I assume this whole thing has something to do with the boy in your arms?"
The Gardener let out a low humming sound that seemed to originate from its chest and echo in Ra’s bones. It glanced down, turning the body over gently to let Ra's see his face. The boy was just a child, no older than sixteen. He was deathly pale and seemed eerily stiff, just as if rigor mortis had set in. His white hair was plastered to his forehead from the water, and his clothes were nothing more than rags. Thick green blood was leaking from several wounds and pooling underneath his skin. It wasn't hard to guess what the Gardener was about to ask.
"This is our Guardian and one of the last of his kind. His haunt is not safe anymore, and I task you with his care for the foreseeable future."
Without waiting for a response, the Gardener sloshed forward to set the boy oh-so-gently upon the edge of the pool, taking care that his thorns did not pierce the child. A few vines cupped his face gently as if the Gardener was sad about the boy's state of being.
The assassin made no move to step forward and claim him. "What iske?" He asked. Ra’s voice caught on the last syllable, and he had to repeat the question again properly. Annoying.
The Gardener didn’t seem to mind and just stepped back, relinquishing its hold completely. "He is our Guardian." It repeated. "Care for him well. His fraid will be on the hunt for him and return any harm tenfold. But earn his loyalty, and the power of the Infinite Realms will be at your fingertips. Good luck, Master of Lazarus."
With that, the Gardener disappeared beneath the waves of the Well of Sins, and the waters calmed. The only proof that someone had been there was the sopping wet teen that lay at Ra's feet.
Ra's stared at the boy. The tugging in his heart was a bind, he realized. And it was tying him to the boy. Well, caring for a dead child shouldn't be that hard. Despite his disagreement with Talia over the matter, Jason Todd had turned out just fine, hasn’t he?
With the contract heavy on his mind, Ra's turned and left the boy lying there, clicking his jaw and calling for his attendants to collect him. The Lazarus Pits had gifted him with a new heir, it seemed.
-
“WHAT DID YOU DO?”
In another world, a redheaded girl was on the edge of a rampage. Her scream echoed down the suburban street her house was on, and the neighbors sighed quietly and locked their windows shut, not realizing the severity of the question. They were used to this family's antics, and the girl's screaming as a result.
But this could not be written off as 'family antics.'
Jasmine Fenton, nicknamed ‘Jazz,’ was positively furious. Red-faced, she stood before her parents with steam coming from her ears and a bat in hand. 
“Jazzy-pants, we-” her father tried.
“Nope!” Jazz put up a hand to stop him. “Never mind, I don’t want to hear it. I already know.” 
She whirled around, tuning out her parents' protests as she stormed through their house. Correction, her parent’s house. If she had her way, Jazz would never see these metal and unloving walls ever again. Neither would her brother, once she found him. 
Her phone rang, and she flipped it open with a snap, leaving the bat at the end of the hallway. Only a few people had her number, and it sure as hell wasn’t her parents calling her. “What.” She barked, shoving the phone between her shoulder and ear as she dug through Danny’s closet. His bug-out bag hadn’t been moved. 
“It’s Tucker.”
“We have a code green and a code yellow.” She ground out. Good, the ecto-dejecto shots were up to date. The less time she spends in that god-forsaken lab, the better. 
“Fuck.” Tucker swore. Rustling was heard and she heard another voice in the background. “I’m putting you on speaker.” 
Jazz re-packed the bag quickly, adding in some non-essentials that she knew Danny would appreciate. After it was settled on her shoulders, she switched the phone back to her hand for a better grip. “Is Sam there?”
“I’m here.” The girl responded. 
Jazz tripped over her bedroom carpet in her rush to her room. She cursed but recovered and started ransacking her closet and drawers. “Good. One of you needs to contact Danielle. Our parents sold Danny out, and the GIW took him while I was gone yesterday. I’m going ghost and getting him back. Tell Danielle she’s in danger since they have her ecto-signature now.”
“We’re going with you.” Sam said firmly. There was more rustling, and Jazz guessed they were looking for their own emergency bags. “I don’t care how long it takes; we’ll get him back.” 
“Are you going to shut down the portal?” Tucker asked. 
Jazz paused, considering it. In the original plan, Danny was in charge of shutting down the portal while Jazz and the others took care of the Fentons, GIW, and everything else. It was personal for him; his final resting place. But now that Danny was missing, and they needed a reliable escape route. 
“Not permanently.” She decided. “I’ll figure out how to turn it off temporarily, or put a shield up, but Danny will need to be the one to make that call.” 
Tucker started typing furiously on his laptop, muttering under his breath until he got to the file he wanted. “Sam and I will take care of the town defenses, and Dani’s on her way from New Zealand. She’ll be here in a few hours. I’m sending you a bug; plug it into the Fenton’s security systems, and it’ll lock them out of the house for now. Only do it after you’re done in the labs. Sam’s gone off and is pulling some strings to get all the ghosts in town back to the Zone. I’ll start tracking Danny and shutting down all the Fenton and GIW equipment I can find.”
“Thanks, Tucker. I’ll meet you guys at Nasty Burger in two hours; pass that message to Danielle.”
“Sure thing. Oh, and Jazz?”
“Yeah, Tuck?” Jazz started counting her hidden wads of cash, making sure it was all there. They never wanted to believe the Fentons would go this far, but she was glad they’d made contingency plans just in case. 
She could hear Tucker’s silent snarl as he said his parting remark. “Leave enough of them behind for the rest of us.”
Jazz laughed, a little hysterical. “I’ll try.” She said, bidding him farewell. Honestly, she wasn’t even sure she could look at her parents ever again. But she knew, deep in her bones, that if they tried to stop her, there wouldn’t even be ashes left from the hell she would raise. 
-
Gotham was caught in a storm. It was one of those ugly, howling summer storms that threw water in your eyes and bit your skin with a vengeance. Damian squinted, trying to make out the sight of Spoiler and Signal through the rain, but even their bright uniforms were lost in the shadows.
He tightened his grip on his grappling hook as a particularly harsh wind tried to throw him around like a ragdoll. Water seeped into his collar, making him shiver. A beep echoed in his ear, and he risked taking one hand off the line to answer his comms.
"Robin," Oracle was practically shouting in his ear over the storm. "Signal made it to the Cave. Spoiler is rounding up Condiment King, and then she'll do the same. You can go back now."
Damian tsked. "Father is still out here," he replied. "I shall not return until he does."
"Robin-" Oracle sighed.
Another gust of wind made him grunt, and he cut the call to refocus on scaling the building. The only good thing that came from such a wild storm was that most of the villains were smart enough to stay inside. Splitting up in such conditions always left a sour taste in his mouth, but Damian understood it was necessary to cover as much ground as possible during times of emergency.
He wasn't sure this counted as an emergency, but Todd was certainly treating it as such. The citizens of Crime Alley were being hit hard. Enough to the point where Red Hood had openly invited the Bats onto his turf to help with the flooding and evacuation from some unstable buildings. Batman and Red Robin had gone, leaving Robin and Orphan to cover their patrol routes.
Finally, finding purchase on the rough brick, Damian quickly hauled himself up to safety. Some of his equipment was ruined, and his costume was soaked. Truly, this storm had come out of nowhere.
His comms clicked back to life. "Robin." Cain's clipped tone was somehow louder than Oracle's voice.
"I'm here," he replied, scowling at the oily mud on his shoes. Damned pollution.
"Home," Orphan said simply.
Damian scowled even harder. He could argue with Oracle without issue, but he barely won when it came to speaking with Orphan. "...Fine." He sniffed. "I shall return."
"Good." Damian could hear the smile in her voice. "Agent A has cocoa."
"I'll consider it." He said stiffly. He imagined his adoptive sister smiling slyly and glancing toward the sky before the comms switched off, leaving him to his thoughts again. After checking his grapple to ensure it still worked, he started picking his way through the building at a snail's pace, letting himself get distracted whenever he spotted someone in trouble. The Batcave would be warmer and dryer than the streets, but not everyone had a dry place to return to. Every little bit helped in the long run, and even Damian wouldn't pass by a lost child in the rain.
The only thing that bothered him more than the dark clouds overhead and fresh hail on the way home was the unnatural feeling on his spine. It felt like someone was watching him, judging him. But when he looked, nobody was there.
-
The stars were gone.
Danny felt weightless as he floated, staring at the space where the stars were supposed to be. He felt lighter than normal. Danny was surrounded by colors that flowed and ebbed like the tide, taking him deeper into this mysterious space. Golden fish and silver deer wove past him as fire and ice trailed behind, and yet he couldn’t seem to muster up the energy to get up. He just laid there silently. A bone deep exhaustion was settling into him, but sleep refused him.
“Ghost Child.”
Oh, Danny was dreaming. He was already asleep.
He didn’t turn his head, nor acknowledge when the stars returned to his line of sight. The stars wrapped around him like a curtain, cutting off the rest of the dreamscape. Two bright eyes, burning like red giants, peered down at him as thin hands cupped his body.
“Ghost Child.” The voice repeated again, speaking in his mind even as the words were swallowed by the silence of space.
Danny turned his head slowly. “Nocturn,” he murmured. These too, were snatched from his throat and lost. The cold seeped into his chest and he hiccuped. He couldn’t speak. Not that he really wanted to.
Luckily, Nocturn seemed to understand him just fine. He cradled Danny gently, bringing him closer to his chest. Something shifted in the fabric of space, and suddenly Danny was being laid to rest on the smooth stone of a crescent moon, as pearly white as his own hair. He sighed as the coolness of the moon seeped into his body, soothing aches and burns he didn’t remember getting.
“Where are we?” He wanted to ask.
Nocturn blinked slowly at him, his face twisted down towards Danny. His ram’s horns glinted as a glowing blue jay landed on them and started preening itself. Danny wanted to fly with the bird. His body didn't move.
“Sleep, Ghost Child.” Nocturn hummed. The moon vibrated beneath Danny, soothing the electric currents that kept him awake no matter what he did. Danny’s eyes started sliding shut as Nocturn’s song wrapped around him like a lullaby.
The others… Danny’s mind whispered.
Are safe. The song replied. Rest, young guardian. Your people are safe. You did well.
That was all he needed to hear. Danny let himself fall into slumber, relief flooding his mind. Yes, his people were safe. He did well. He deserved some rest.
As the young ghost fell into a dreamless sleep, a real sleep, Nocturn gently tucked the boy in with a blanket made from his own starry robes, shifting the fabric once more to hide away his core, and the boy who was resting on it. The bluejay on his head chirped indignantly from the movement and flew away, leaving a trail of smoke behind.
Nocturn paid it no mind. Warnings from Fate were never a good idea to ignore, but the bird was but a memory of a life that had long since passed. It only stuck around because of the dreams that kept feeding it. The ghost let his lullaby continue as he returned to his work, taking care to move slowly.
Undergrowth was taking care of his physical body, so he would care for the boy's mind. Vortex was off to round up the little ghostlings who had scattered like dandelion seeds, and the Master of Time was keeping an eye on the rest of Phantom's fraid while they rampaged in the mortal realms. After the stunt he pulled to protect the Realms, it was the least the elder ghosts could do.
-
"Is the boy awake?" Ra's asked sharply, entering the private rooms he had set aside for the boy.
The attending nurse, an older man born with no tongue, bowed his head and signed, 'No, sir. Vitals are off. He is a cold corpse.'
Ra's regarded the boy. It has been several weeks since the Gardener dropped the boy off in his care, and he hadn't awoken once throughout the entire time. He truly looked like a regular dead teenager, if you exclude the unnaturally white hair.
The Demon's Head bent over the boy's bed, tugging open an eyelid to see if he would react. Nothing. However, he noted the boy's eyes were green, which he was mildly pleased about. Green was such a lovely color, and this boy seemed surrounded in it.
A sharp knock echoed from the door, and Ra's granted the other party permission to enter. His best phlebotomist, a man named Paz, entered, holding a stack of papers as thick as his thumb. He bowed to Ra's as soon as he saw him.
"The results?" Ra's asked.
Paz immediately handed over his work, fully confident that Ra's understood everything he'd written. "For all purposes, the boy is dead." He said in a thick accent. He spoke in halted Arabic, as he'd only lived in 'Eth Alth'eban for a short time. "He has no circulation. No heart to move blood, or lungs to breathe. We must move him every hour to prevent postmortem lividity. He has undergone an extensive autopsy process, but it seems it was stopped before his brain was removed. No organs remain in his body otherwise.”
Ra's examined the papers. They were reports from different scientists and doctors, all of whom had been assigned to examine and work on the boy. Most of them said the same thing. The boy was dead and had been for a while. If the Well of Sins didn't do anything when he first exited the waters, what good would it do now?
He flicked his eyes up. "But you think otherwise," he stated.
Paz nodded enthusiastically. "The boy is dead, but his blood is alive!" He tapped a green folder that was poking out from the bottom of the pile. Ra's shuffled the papers off to the nurse and opened it. Printed off charts had been scribbled over with Paz’s frantic notes, documenting his thought process.
The phlebotomist rambled excitedly as his boss read his work, gesturing wildly. “It’s incredible! Most of his red blood cells have died off, and he has an abnormal amount of white blood cells, which indicate some kind of infection. But his plates-“
‘Platelets.’
“Platelets,” Paz nodded his thanks to the nurse for correcting his speech. “The boy’s platelets are still alive, and are actually trying to heal his injuries! We recorded a time-lapse last week to confirm it. The process is incredibly slow, even compared to human healing, but there’s a difference! Because of the absence of red blood cells, the plasma left in his body has practically doubled in volume, even though there’s no circulation to keep it moving. We’ve noticed a collection of stem cells at the base of his skull has started growing as well, and whatever it’s producing is being released into the body at regular intervals.”
“What kind of cells are they?”
“Unsure. At first, we thought it was cancerous in nature.” Paz tapped the corner of the folder again, prompting Ra’s to turn the page. “And while these cells are certainly growing as fast as unchecked cancer, rather than doing harm, we’ve taken samples and noted that they’re merging with whatever original matter has been left in the boy’s body. Bonding, like glue! The healing process is periodically speeding up with every release, the plasma has started circulating on its own, and the white blood cell count is diminishing. Honestly, I’ve never seen anything like it! It’s filling in for everything that’s missing, and keeping what is there, alive. Dr. Vanessa hypothesized that within the month, it may even start replacing the boy’s organs.”
Ra’s looked up from the research. “These photos look like plant cells, is this an example or actual recordings of the activity?”
Paz wrinkled his nose. “Those are evidence of the activity. For some reason, cellulose is present within his body, and the mysterious stem cells seem to be a mix of both plant and animal matter. It’s hard to track even with our technology, but it looks like the cellulose is forming a sort of…skeleton? Frame? I’m not sure what the right word is, but Dr. Vanessa says they might start regrowing in another month. If that’s true, this would be a huge breakthrough in the realm of organ transplants and other medical fields!”
The Demon’s Head hummed, flipping through the work again and considering the man’s words. “Very good,” he praised. Paz beamed like a child at his words. “Unfortunately, I shall be releasing you of your duty, and your tongue is too loose for your head.”
“What-“ Paz’s eyes widened as he gurgled, his words cut off. Ra’s twisted his wrist, driving home the dagger he’d planted in the man’s heart. He had no use for men who talked too much.
Paz fell to the floor, convulsing as he tried to weakly remove the weapon still sticking out of his chest. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he went pale as his blood seeped out onto the floor.
Ra’s barely spared the dying man a glance, taking back the extra stack of papers from the nurse and neatly stepped around him to exit the room. “Clean that up,” he said over his shoulder.
The old nurse bowed his head, waiting patiently for the foolish doctor to finish dying before he got out the mop.
This is why the nurse had survived so long; he knew how to stay silent.
-
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[Nocturn tucking Danny in to rest. Ghost speech says, "Rest well, ghost child"]
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The Twin Boys; One in Black, One in White
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thetarttfuldickhead · 3 months
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If When Jamie is named England’s captain a few years from now and he’s asked about inspirational figures and captain role models, he will not stop singing Isaac’s praises. Just, the way Isaac runs a tight ship and won’t tolerate any nonsense but always has their backs and makes sure there’s a lot of fun, too, silly stuff that keeps the team close and happy and mutually supportive; keeps them feeling like family, almost. It’s Ted’s heritage, the seeds Ted planted, but Isaac’s nurtured and sustained them, tended to the garden and kept it in bloom, and added some vibrant saplings of his own.
Jamie probably names a couple of other people too, whoever was in charge when he played for Man City, someone from his academy days or England’s under-21s, people like that.
He doesn’t mention Roy. And no one asks about it, and no one thinks anything of it—
—except for Roy, who watches the interview with Keeley curled up against his side on their couch and who notices the omission with a wild jumble of hurt and wounded pride and shame and jealousy (all mixed up with the shocking, burning pride he feels for Jamie, England’s captain, fucking hell).
Because Roy knows he wasn’t a great captain for Richmond, yeah, and was a horrible captain for Jamie (though to be fair, Jamie was a horrible person to captain, and Isaac isn’t likely to have been able to handle him at full-on prick either, only Roy’s not fantastic at being fair to himself, so), but he’s still Roy fucking Kent, the best on any team he’s ever been on and Jamie’s fucking childhood idol and his fucking everything now, so to have the little prick not even mention him…
He sulks. He tries not to, because he knows it’s silly and it’s Jamie’s big day, isn’t it, and Roy’s not going to ruin it by having A Feeling, but the feeling(s) persist and he walks through the afternoon with his scowl several shades darker than normally.
“What’s the matter, babe?” Keeley asks, and Roy’s long since given up trying to bullshit her so he spills. Keeley nods and listens and gives him a hug and a kiss and tells him that yeah, you’re gonna need to let that go or actually talk to Jamie about it, because she has long since taken a stand on not sorting their shit out for them.
And she has a thing with Rebecca that afternoon (only it’s the first Roy’s ever heard of it, so he can’t help but wonder if she had a thing with Rebecca prior to Roy’s confession), so when Jamie gets home, bouncing through the door like a puppy on speed, it’s just Roy there to greet him and tell him how amazing he is and yes, of course Roy watched the announcement, your hair looked fucking fine, yes, Keeley saw it too, no, don’t worry, she’s just out for coffee, she’ll be back for dinner and let you know how very impressed she is, and it’d be easy to just let it lie, put the lingering regret away and bask in Jamie’s joy, but they’d said they’d try not do that anymore, not cover stuff up when there’s the chance they might fester, so when Jamie furrows his brow and cocks his head to the side and asks if he’s okay, Roy takes a deep breath:
“It fucking hurt my feeling when you didn’t mention me, when they asked about captains that have inspired you,” he says, and then adds before Jamie can reply, “I know why you didn’t and that’s… that’s fucking fair, innit, but. It also made me wish that I’d been. Better. A better captain. For you.”
“Yeah,” Jamie says after a long, silent moment. He’s wearing that slightly blank look he adopts whenever someone’s caught him by surprise and he’s trying to figure out how to react. “Um. Sometimes I wish I’d been less of a prick, too, you know.”
Roy nods. He knows. And it’s not absolution, and it neither erases or rewrites any of their past mistakes, but it eases the ache in Roy’s chest all the same.
“We’re better now,” he offers, to Jamie, to himself.
“Yeah,” Jamie agrees with a small sigh. He grabs hold of Roy’s hand, tugging him along as he sits down on the couch, and then he curls up against Roy’s side, same as Keeley did just hours ago. “You’re a great fucking coach, though” he tells Roy seriously. “Me favourite, swear down.”
Roy snorts a laugh as he puts an arm around Jamie. “Better fucking be, considering how many blowjobs I’ve given you this week alone.”
“Mm, fucking mint, those,” Jamie agrees thoughtfully, then jabs a finger in Roy’s side. “Oi, this is the part where you tell me I’m your favourite player.”
And oh. That’s perfect, innit. “You’re not my favourite player,” Roy says, carefully not looking at Jamie.
The noise Jamie makes are equal parts disbelieving and outraged. “Um, excuse me, mate?”
“You’re not,” Roy insists, feeling a smile tug at his lips as he innocently adds, “It’s probably Isaac.”
And Jamie huffs a laugh against his neck. And Jamie says you’re an arsehole. And Jamie says you’re me favourite arsehole, though.
You’re me favourite everything, man.
And Roy holds him tight and breathes him in and, for the moment, believes him.
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disastersareajoy · 10 months
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The Shower Incident
Stu x Billy x FEM!Reader
Tags: Sex toy, masturbation, voyeurism for a sec, dirty stuff happens in the shower obviously, dirty talk, degradation, praise, lots of kissing, marking, handjob, edging, begging, slight dacryphilia, mention of denial, mention of being tied up, mention of oral (fem receiving, and giving to a toy), mention of double penetration, mention of anal (fem and male receiving), open end, Sub!Reader, Dom!Billy, implied Switch!Stu but mostly Sub!Stu
Hiya babes!
I had this idea and it wouldn't leave me alone the entire day so I wrote it down and if I do say so myself: This shit it pretty hot.
I'm super glad my first public fic is with these two idiots because I love them to the moon and back and cannot get enough of them. I hope you enjoy this wild ride - I know I did. I wrote this in like an hour and then proofread it four times total, but English isn't my first language so if you see any mistakes feel free to (politely) let me know and I will fix it. Same as any tags I missed. Of course, non mistake related comments are also very welcomed. I hope you thouroughly enjoy this product of my brain rot! Let me know what ya think.
Stu and Billy had been away for a few days and you were needy. Wanting to be bent over and fucked hard and rough, four hands gripping at your body and manipulating you into whatever position they desire. They were supposed to come back in the evening so you wanted to take a shower before then.
That's when the idea struck.
You practically stumbled over your own feet to get to the closet and pull out the box of toys the three of you had accumulated over time.
You picked out your favorite dildo and quickly made your way to the bathroom. With the help of the suction cup the toy stuck to the shower wall. After cleaning yourself in record speed you bent over and pushed back onto the dildo. It filled you slowly and stretched you perfectly. Your wetness made the intrusion easy but the thickness of the toy still made you pause, and forced you to take a couple of deep breaths. Although it wasn't long before you were fucking yourself back onto it and completely loosing your mind in the process. Moaning their names and begging into the empty room.
At the same time Billy and Stu were on their way up to your shared apartment. The two of them decided to surprise you by coming home a couple hours early so you could eat dinner together and cuddle up in front of the TV.
When they came through the front door and weren't immediately met with your smiling face, kissing and hugging them in greeting, they were a bit perplexed.
That was until they heard the shower running.
And then they heard a litany of moans, accompanied by a loud slapping sound of skin against tile. They shared a look and ventured closer to the bathroom door which you had left open a crack in your hurry to fuck yourself.
The sight they find absolutely takes their breath away. The shower is on and water is hitting your back as you're bent over nothing, supporting yourself with your hands against the wall as you continuously slam your ass back onto the dildo stuck to the tile wall. They can see the toy glistening with your wetness and someone lets out a groan. You don't hear it and keep moving your hips with a clearly desperate and already fucked out sway to it.
They're both stuck in their spot, staring at the divine sight that is you. The way your body moves to get the perfect angle of the dildo, your thighs trembling with exertion and your hand aimlessly sliding against the wet wall, trying desperately to hold onto something. The way your pussy stretches to accommodate for the thickness of what they recognize as your favorite dildo. The one that you love sucking on when they both have you filled. Or that you love for them to fuck you with when they're getting your ass ready and you already need your pussy filled.
The dildo that's been in all of your holes to help pleasure, tease, edge and make you cum. They can't get enough of watching you throw yourself onto the dildo, making such loud and obscene noises.
What finally gets them to snap out of the trance your body has put them in is your next moan.
“Billy, please.” You interrupt yourself with another desperate whine. “Fuck, please fuck me harder. I need you so bad. Oh my god, Stu.” You elongate the end of Stu's name with a loud moan that's closer to a sob if anything. With the way your hips tilted, Billy suspects you found the perfect angle to hit that special spot inside you. Next to him, Stu breathes out a small moan and looks at Billy with a plea in his eyes.
“Go.”
With the okay given, Stu bursts through the door and is on you in no time. He grabs your face in both hands and barely sees your eyes open in surprise before he has his mouth pressed to yours. Desperately making out with you while making sure you're still fucking yourself onto the dildo. He mumbles out praises between kisses, not able to stop himself from telling you how good you look.
"You look delicious. Fucking yourself so desperately, moaning our names like we're here with you. You that pent up, baby? It's been three days and you're so needy you start fucking yourself how you want us to fuck you, huh?”
“But it's not the same, is it?”
Now Billy joins in as well. He already stripped out of his clothes, completely naked and palming at his erection while Stu kneels halfway under the spray of water, drenching his clothes. You mewl a negative, not trusting yourself with words. Afraid that if you pull away from Stu and open your mouth the only thing coming out would be pleas and their names.
“No. Even though our good little slut is filled to the brim by a toy and is fucking herself just as fast as we do, she still can't quite get it right. Can you, doll?”
You make a non-committal noise and place your hands on Stu's shoulders, thankful to have something to hold on to. Billy is unsatisfied with your wordless answer and grabs Stu by his hair, pulling his head back to expose his long neck, stopping you from hiding in his kisses. Stu whines long and loud before staring back at you, desperation clear in his eyes.
“Please baby, answer him.”
“Aww. Would you look at that? At least one whore here remembers his manners.”
Billy leans down to press hungry kisses onto Stu's mouth. Both of them moaning into each other's mouth, making you want even more. You mewl and whine at the display in front of you. Billy pulls away from Stu's mouth with a grin that he then turns on you.
“You better start using your words. Or he's gonna get all the attention and you can watch without touching yourself. And cumming will be completely off the table.” With that he attaches his mouth to Stu's neck, kissing up and down, sucking marks into the soft skin and biting. Which makes Stu let out the most beautiful array of whines and moans you've ever heard.
“Please,” you manage to breathe out.
“Please, what?” Billy still has his face in Stu's neck while answering, not letting his mouth detach for long. You whine and can't help yourself from slowing down your movements to gather your thoughts long enough to form a sentence.
“Please, Billy. Please fuck me. Both of you. I need you so bad, please ” Billy pulls away from Stu and grabs your jaw hard with his hand, turning your face in his direction. He gets close to you and smirks. “There she is. That's the good little whore we've been waiting to fuck for three days.” He doesn't let you answer before attaching his lips to yours and making you moan into his mouth. He lets go of your jaw and grabs your shoulders instead, shoving you back onto the dildo, hard. You moaned into his mouth as he forces you to start fucking yourself again. Distantly, you hear Stu whine as he kneels in front of you and waits for his turn to be kissed again.
Once you have a steady rhythm going again, Billy pulls away. He looks at you with a grin and you could tell he has something planned.
“Now, I asked you a question. And you didn't answer. Instead, you made out with this little attention whore next to me.” A moan from Stu. “But I want you to answer my question. I will not repeat it, and neither will Stu. You're gonna have to use your big girl brain and remember what I asked you. And you're not gonna stop fucking yourself on that dildo. If you slow down you don't get to cum. If you stop you get to watch, tied up and gagged as I fuck Stu into the mattress.” A whine from Stu. “But if you keep going and answer me correctly,” his grin widens and he leans back slightly. “Then you get exactly what you want.”
You moan, frustrated that you don't immediately remember what he asked you. While you're desperately trying to remember the question and not slow down your hips, Billy starts helping Stu get his wet clothes off. He also shuts off the water which leaves your skin cooling down rapidly, goosebumps appearing on your skin and sending shivers down your spine.
Once he has all of Stu's clothes off, he kneels behind him and starts palming his dick. Slowly but firmly taking it in hand and stroking him up and down. Stu lets his head fall back onto Billy's shoulder and moans unabashedly at how good he feels. How good Billy is making him feel. The sight makes your concentration waver. Your mind is completely empty, safe for the two beautiful men in front of you. The way their hair sticks to their foreheads, Billy looking at you with hunger in his eyes and that feral edge. Stu squeezes his eyes shut as he softly starts thrusting into Billy's hand. Usually that would have earned him a slap to the thighs and a warning, but right now all Billy wanted was to tease you.
He takes pity on you as Stu grows closer and closer, holding onto Billy and you with one hand each.
“I'll give you a little hint, darling. How does the dildo feel?” Suddenly his words sprang back into your mind.
“Even though our good little slut is filled to the brim by a toy and is fucking herself just as fast as we do, she still can't quite get it right. Can you, doll?”
You immediately scramble for an answer.
“Fuck, Billy.”
“Good start.”
You whine once more as your hips desperately try to keep up the pace Billy had set for you.
“I can't get it right,” you sob in frustration as your wetness drips down your legs. With the shower turned off you can be sure it was the juices of your pussy that are making such obscene noises and dripping slowly down your thighs.
Billy gives Stu's sensitive tip extra attention, making the tall man writhe in his place on Billy's lap. He moans as a blush spreads down his chest. “That's right doll, you can't. But why? And you better hurry because if Stu cums before you answer, you're watching.” He chuckles at your frustrated groan and speeds up his hand on Stu's cock.
“I- oh my fuckin God. I can't get it right because-” Stu moans loud and desperate, getting closer each second. “Because it's not hard enough.” Billy hums long, considering your answer. “Yes. But why?” You groan again, this time louder and with more annoyance behind it. “Careful,” Billy spoke low and with warning.
With one last whine you focus all your concentration on your words and close your eyes. “I can't get it right because you fuck me so much harder and I can't fake that. I need your hands on my hips as you pull me into every thrust and I need you to speak to me, to call me names and to tell me I'm doing good. I need you to pound into me like I'm your personal toy and I can't fake that with a dildo, please. Please fuck me like I need you to. I'm begging you Billy, please.”
You prepare yourself to hear Billy ask you for another, better answer, but it didn't come. Instead you hear Stu's sob and whine as he is denied his orgasm. No doubt having been right on the edge. When you open your eyes again, Stu looks back at you with tired, teary eyes and his mouth hanging open. Billy on the other hand looks absolutely feral. His eyes have a certain glint in it that tells you that you are in for a ride.
He reaches out to touch your cheek and strokes his thumb over your skin. “That's a good girl. And just in time too.” He softly pushes Stu to sit on the shower floor and keeps a leg behind his back to help him stay upright while he pulls on your shoulders to stop you from continuing to fuck yourself on your dildo. “Now, you have 5 minutes to help Stu get up and get both of your asses to the bedroom. I want you on the bed, legs spread and ready with Stu right between them. He gets to make you extra worked up with his mouth as a bit of revenge for his edge.” At that, Stu hums satisfied and lets out a chuckle.
“I'm gonna watch him edge you however often he sees fit, and then we're both going to fuck you. Nice and hard.” Billy grabs your jaw and pulls you in for a quick kiss before staring at you an inch away from your face. “Because I know that's what our little whore craves. Isn't it?” You nod eagerly and correct yourself with a quick “Yes sir,” before Billy can say anything.
As soon as Billy lets go of your jaw and nods his head towards the bathroom door, you're scrambling to help Stu on his feet, your own knees still wobbly.
Billy watches as the two of you slowly make your way to the bedroom with shaky legs, sees how wet your thighs are and how there's still more dripping out of your glistening pussy. He watches Stu grab your ass, squeezing the flesh beneath his finger in a way that is sure to be a promise of all the teasing that's to come. He truly can't wait to see Stu ruin you with his mouth before they fuck you until you can't remember your own name.
God, he loves the both of you so much.
---
Please don't repost or reupload this fic anywhere else. It's mine and I'd love to keep it that way.
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yesloulou · 1 year
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Miami GP 2022
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