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#mini fics!
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11 for any pairing for the touches ask game? :)
Hi anon! Thanks for the ask! I’m not sure which of the #11s you meant so I just blended them all in one jonmartin fic, hope that’s ok!
11 hand holding: not wanting to lose each other in a big crowd
11 hugs: clinging to each other
11 kiss: welcome home kisses
11 touching: laying their hand on the other’s neck
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Their life in the time After starts out like dark, strong tea and water vapor. It’s a lot of heavy words and murky depths when they start couples’ therapy. Eventually, though, they muster through and put in the work. After that initial push, Jon and Martin slide into a new kind of mutual comfort, the way the rounded edge of a mug fits in your palms. From there, things get easier. They get lighter.
There are days of searching for the tiniest bookstore they can find in London, dashing past Oxford Circus in an effort to avoid the summer tourist traps. There’s a moment where they almost lose each other; Martin’s warm hand just barely catching and grabbing at Jon’s to keep him from getting buffeted into M&S by a crowd of American tourists in Skechers. It doesn’t hold a candle to Jon pulling Martin out of the Lonely, but there’s something that still feels Right when their hands find purchase and Jon grabs tight. When they’re reunited Jon looks at Martin a little breathless, face flushed. Neither of them pretend it’s just the weather.
-
Their first trip together is dust motes in the air and sunshowers. It’s contemplative, quiet, and rainy. They are back at Daisy’s cabin, a therapist-recommended scar for them to properly confront and close. Neither of them wants to be the first in the door.
It’s a strange thing: the cabin looks unassuming and almost charming from the outside, as if all the time in the Other Place was a mere ghost story. But the ghosts are inside the walls. Inside Jon and Martin’s rapid-beating hearts.
“I’ll go first,” Jon offers. There’s no bravery in his voice. Classic Jon, doing the hard thing because better him than someone else suffering through it. They’re working on that; Martin on accepting that this is Jon’s defense mechanism, and Jon on slowly letting go of those defenses.
Martin shakes his head. “We’re making this bigger than it is. The cabin didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just a cabin. And we’re just people. Nothing is going to hurt us here.” The part that goes unspoken is: I won’t let it.
Jon still looks unsure. He doesn’t move from where he leans against his cane in the dandelion-sprinkled grass. From the sounds of thunder, a storm is brewing on the horizon, but Martin doesn’t dare look up at the sky. Not here.
Then, he gets an idea. “Okay, I’ve got it. Um. Brace yourself.”
Jon squares his shoulders, as if he’s been told to give a spontaneous lecture, only for Martin to bend and hoist him in a bridal carry. They make a sort of makeshift hug as Martin tucks his arms against Jon’s back and under his knees.
“We’ll go in together,” he grins, “one way or another.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Jon sputters good-naturedly. “I love you.” He squirms and flails a bit, trying to find purchase. His cane bonks against the side of the cabin door. They both laugh.
Eventually, they swing the door open. It conjures a flourish of dust and stale air. Martin steps them both over the threshold until they’re met with cool shadow and vivid memories. It’s impossible not to think of the only time they were truly happy before the world ended. Before the cabin became a monument to all they’d lost. Before Jon was robbed of the last of his innocence by a statement that once sat upon that scratched coffee table beside the fireplace.
It’s overwhelming. Martin can’t move out of the doorway. He feels Jon clinging to his shirt, bending in to rest his cheek against Martin’s chest. A sniff. Martin waits.
“Sorry,” Jon says after a while. “It’s a lot.”
“Me too,” Martin says thickly.
“Dust in your eye?” Jon asks, giving him an out.
A watery chuckle. No need to hide it. “No.”
Jon wipes at his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Oh good, me neither.”
“Are you... okay?” Martin asks, tightening his grip on Jon. He’s so warm - the fact shocks him. Jon’s warm and alive. Why is that just hitting him now?
“I will be.” A bit of fabric rustles, and Jon breathes against Martin’s shirt. “I have you.”
“Oh, Jon.”
-
The days in their new flat pass like dripped honey and falling snow. Slow, sweet, and beautiful. They get a cat. And a dog. Despite Jon’s objections to dogs during his and Martin’s initial meet cute, it turns out he really only took issue with the dog being in the Archives. So he welcomes little Chewy into the family rather easily. It takes a bit longer for Lady, their black cat, to accept such an exuberant playmate into her sovereign lands. But it happens all the same.
Jon gets a job at the tiniest bookstore (they finally found it squashed between a crystal shop and a street-wear boutique). Martin gets a job at a library, retreading the old, familiar path of shelving books and directing patrons to the right Dewey Decimal section.
Due to his evening hours, Martin’s the one who comes home later. Jon is usually in the kitchen around that time, puzzling out some new recipe. Cooking has become his favorite pastime. Lady supervises Jon from the top of the cupboards. Chewy disinterestedly gnaws on something forbidden, usually a table leg.
But the moment the three of them hear Martin’s key in the lock, their attention is directed to the door. As Martin stumbles in with groceries, a folded and dripping umbrella, or both, Chewy’s the first to meet him with floppy, imprecise paws sliding every-which-way. Martin bends down to say hello and Chewy bestows wet-nosed kisses to every bit of exposed skin he can reach. Lady doesn’t move from her throne in the kitchen, but gives Martin a look of acknowledgment.
And Jon is there, he’s always going to be there.
He waits for Martin to set down all his stuff, then spreads his arms. Martin meets them, and they embrace. Jon pulls away first, cupping the sides of Martin’s shoulders, running his hands up to the sides of Martin’s neck before cupping his face. “Good day?”
“It is now, yeah,” he beams. “You?”
Jon nods. “It was exceedingly normal and I couldn’t be happier.”
“Normal is good. We like normal,” he says.
Jon puts his hands down and starts gushing to him about whatever’s on the hob. He offers Martin several spoonfuls of something garlicky and savory to taste. The air smells like citrus peels and olives. “Be my sous chef?” he asks.
Martin assents.
This is bliss. This is home.
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urdepressedslut · 9 months
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You’re Mine, Sunshine (masterlist) ♡
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♡ Pairing: Grumpy!Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Fem!Reader (Mob!Au Bodyguard!Au)
♡ Series Summary: Bucky gets picked by a very rich and respected man to be his daughter’s personal bodyguard. The Father warns him that it won’t be an easy job, that she is a brat and difficult to deal with. But what happens when Bucky meets you and you’re the complete opposite?
♡ Series Warnings: mentions of amputation, dark themes, violence, death/death threats, talk of parent death, fluff, angst, stalking, daddy issues, anxiety attacks/panic attacks, abuse, depression, depressive episodes, PTSD, dry humping, hints to smut, (warnings to be added as new chapters are released)
Trope ⇢ Grumpy x Sunshine ☀️
(SERIES ONGOING)
Last Updated: 9/8/23
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | SERIES 18+
⇨ Chapter One
↳ After Pierce interviews Bucky for the job, he warns him of you. Bucky is starting to rethink his decision, but when he meets you... you're not what he expected.
⇨ Chapter Two
↳ Bucky takes you home, and later finds you in the library. You both get to know each other a little better, but Bucky is hesitant.
⇨ Chapter Three
↳ Bucky has a surprise meeting with Pierce, getting informed about your secret admire. Meanwhile, Bucky tries to keep things professional, he’s hesitant to cross the line when you need him.
⇨ Chapter Four
↳ You don’t know what to think of Bucky after he took you to bed last night. Bucky can’t continue to keep the stalking situation hidden from you. Something is found on your doorstep.
⇨ Chapter Five
↳ Getting to know each other better doesn’t go according to plan. Bucky has to comfort you and fix the mess he made. Will you forgive him?
⇨ Chapter Six
↳ Bucky receives a morning visit from Steve, with the news about what was in the box. Bucky continues to think about what he should do. Should he tell you the truth about your stalker?
⇨ Chapter Seven
↳ Bucky finds you making a mess in the kitchen, attempting to bake and offers his help. The two of you get to talking and some reveals about each other begin to come out. Will he finally tell you about your stalker?
⇨ Chapter Eight
↳ After a surprise visit from Pierce, tension arises as he threatens Bucky of his job. Pierce wants to have a talk with you and it doesn't go very well.
⇨ Chapter Nine
↳ After the events from the other day, you try and cope with the reality of what happened. The world is a lot less colorful than you remember. Bucky helps comfort you after you realize you have no one left.
⇨ Chapter Ten
↳ Someone comes knocking at your door in the morning. Bucky answers and is surprised with who he finds. Are they going to help them or hurt them?
⇨ Chapter Eleven
↳ The tension can't be ignored anymore between you and Bucky. Steve shows up and he's not alone.
⇨ Chapter Twelve
↳ Reality is hitting you as you, Bucky, Steve and his men all venture off to a secret safe house only Steve knows about. The events from the last couple of days are starting to hit you with a sickening force, leaving you weak and crippled.
⇨ Chapter Thirteen
↳ Your dreams consist of random memories of your parents, but are they really random? Despite the past days of hell—you still find it difficult to resist Bucky. You two spend a heated morning together, devouring each other while you still have these moments.
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eyesthecolorofarson · 1 month
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Soul healing
Damian was angry.
He was one of their best fighters, knew the layout of Arkham like the back of his hand, AND was on good terms with both Riddler and Ivy! Why wasn’t he allowed to help in the breakout? What was the point of making him babysit!?!
Father had said he was to keep the child safe but he’d neglected to say why. And honestly, the child was three months old. Who would be hunting down an infant, why would they be hunting down an infant, and what would they do with an infant? If anyone was after the child, that is.
The infant in question was babbling incoherently and rolling around on her stomach. She squealed and he huffed. All he knew about her was the information in her file, which was surprisingly little. Three months old, no name and orphaned, she was of Brazilian heritage and her blood tests located her place of origin as Blüdhaven. She was moved to Gotham to be fostered, which is one of the stupidest decisions he’s ever heard of.
The foster parent in question was Daniel ‘Danny’ Nightingale. Nightingale showed incredible intelligence, graduating upper primary school two years early and high school in two. Currently a student at Gotham University Nightingale was double majoring in chemistry and aerospace engineering when he decided to apply for a New Jersey foster license, which he was given due to already having one in both Wisconsin and Ohio as well as his incredible record.
Nightingale was in the room with him and the infant. He was 14 years of age and had short black hair much like himself, but Nightingale was disturbingly pale and had almost ultramarine blue eyes. Nightingale was sitting with the child in front of his place on the couch. There was a gate in a circle connected to each end of the couch that contained a multitude of children’s toys and a few books. The infant was currently playing with a keychain-like toy while Nightingale entertained her.
One part of him wanted to sit and stew in his contempt, but the other, the son of the Bat, was deeply curious. What was so special about this child that it warranted him–an Al Ghul, Robin, heir to the mantle of Bat and Demons Throne–to act as bodyguard? Was it her heritage—correction, what was her heritage, because there was no other reason for her to be hunted. What else could it possibly be?
But when he began paying attention to the infant, it made him realize that the child was not the oddity he was sent to watch, but Nightingale. Nightingale acted normal for the most part, but when the infant made a certain sound–a loud shriek–his pupils would retract and slit before expanding again, like a cats. That wasn’t the oddest thing he noticed.
Nightingales teeth were sharp, and the more he babbled and cooed at the infant the more teeth Damian could see. It appeared all his teeth were canines except for the teeth in the normal place for canines. Those four teeth were long and thin, like a vipers. When the light hit his eyes his pupils shimmered, like a cat or an owls. His ears, which were slightly pointy, twitched every now and then. His nails were noticeably sharp as well, and his voice would sometimes distort. As if a record player were malfunctioning. And the infant would respond! Respond in that same distorted tongue. That loud shriek would turn into a two second wail that made his heartbeat rise to his ears and his vision blur. Then she would giggle or coo and it would end. He had to do something. Those wails were coming more and more often now, and she was starting to lose shape.
“What is this?” Damian snapped. “Don’t worry,” Nightingale told him gently, “this is normal for her species.” He blinked and processed his words. Species. She wasn’t human. “I’m surprised the Bat picked up on it,” Nightingale continued, “Humans aren’t usually susceptible to this sort of thing. But I also sorta expected it? Because he’s, y’know, Batman.”
Nightingale smiled sweetly as she shrieked again, her outline blurring and walls shaking. He could feel his teeth rattling in his head. Suddenly Nightingales jaw unhinged with a quick clicking sound, as if his bones were straining and breaking, and an even louder whistle-hissing sound came from between his now many, many teeth. She stopped, her mouth in an ‘O’ and her eyes wide. He didn’t notice before, but an infant her age shouldn’t have teeth. Especially that sharp. And her eyes were a light yellow color, like straw.
Then she giggled, and began babbling like she didn’t just use a sonic voice ability similar to Black Canary’s. “Dawww,” Nightingale cooed, tickling her, “she’s developing quickly! Garalings usually only start fawning when they start walking.” Damian watched warily. He didn’t want to get any closer, in all honesty. His ears were ringing.
But he was curious, so, so, curious. What was a Garaling? What was fawning and why did they do it after they began walking? Could all Garalings do this ‘fawning’? Compared to other Garalings, exactly how fast is she developing? Is early development common?
Start with the most important. “What is a ‘Garaling’?” Nightingale smiled at him again. “Garalings are an extradimensional species that reside in a place called The Valley. They act as lords of nature and patrons of a chosen plant or animal. Her fawning,” he tapped her nose and she giggled, “will soon turn into either an animal sound or a sound of her own.”
“Fascinating,” he muttered, “is it an attack?” “More like a call to arms,” Nightingale leaned back, relaxed, as the infant shook her toy. “Gathering her chosen animal or plant for whatever she needs.” Damian watched her chew on the toy, drooling and babbling.
“What are you?” “I’m dead. Well, sort of. How to explain this…” He thought for a moment. “Think of me….as the line between life and death, but not exactly limbo. More like I move the line. Sometimes more dead, and sometimes more alive. But always a bit of both.” Damian couldn’t help but be reminded of Todd. And himself.
“Your not from this earth.” Nightingale smiled sadly. “I used to be. But not anymore. Even so I can’t bring myself to fully leave, though I probably should.” “Why? What makes you stay?” Nightingales eyes drifted away, back to the infant. “I want to continue the life I never got to finish. Experience the things I never got to experience. Do what I always wanted to do, even if it’s too late.”
He could understand that. Nightingale looked to be his age. To be ripped from life so soon was something he worried about constantly. Knowing that Nightingale was…..He understood wanting to stay, to pretend to be alive.
“What brought her here?” Nightingales face tightened. “Cultists.” He sounded annoyed. “They exist in every world and their always fond of sacrificing children. Even though my summons specifically say if I’m offered children or anyone unwilling I’ll destroy the cult.” It took Damian a moment to understand the implications.
“….who are you?” Nightingale smiled at him again, and for a second his outline wavered like the infants had. “I am Danny Phantom, High King of the Infinite Realms, the afterlife dimension. I rule over everything and everyone who’s died, if they’ve stayed dead or not. I am The Warm Winter, The Space Between, The Brightest Star. I act as Defender Of The Undead.”
“And what do you plan on doing with her? Why did you take her if you do not accept living offerings?” It was suspicious. Even though Nightingale–Phantoms titles painted him as benevolent, and his stance on sacrifice was very pacifistic, Damian knew better than to trust him just on those facts alone.
But he was being very honest, and it made him wonder why. Compared to Phantom, he was microscopic, a nuisance even. Why was he answering all his questions with seemingly endless transparency? “Because her parents were apart of the cult that offered her, which is unfortunately a common case. I had to bring her here because I already have another offering child going to school here.”
“Another?” He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “How many children have you kept?” He suddenly had a feeling. Not a bad one, just…a feeling. Phantom thought for a moment. “Well the first was Sirius, she’s from a dimension where people are made completely out of star matter. She doesn't live with me anymore since she’s all grown up now, but she’s a really popular singer in the Realms! I can see if she set up her inter dimensional and universal site, her music is great!”
“Casey is my second, he was offered when he was about ten and he’s from a universe that’s essentially the same as this one but everyone has magic. He’s currently in his home dimension in school as well. He specializes in hydrokinese but he’s trying to learn Essokineses. He’s a really quick learner but has a tendency to either give zero or a hundred, no in between.”
“A few months after that I was offered a pair of twins in their twenties. Well, they were built to look to be in their twenties, their actual age is, as of now, seven. Their from a world where hyper realistic androids have no rights and are destroyed if they develop sentience, so when they did they were offered to me because they thought it would get through my rule. They named themselves Poppy and Posies. They don’t like to leave the Realm so their being homeschooled. They really enjoy learning and playing, and Poppy’s favorite thing to do is dance and Posies is jewelry making.”
“I got another infant from a dimension where everyone’s a centaur a few weeks ago. I named her Amaranthe and her lower half’s a sheep! She’s so cute. She’s not the best at walking yet but she loves jumping whenever she can. She likes playing perk-a-boo with the handmaidens. And the child going here is Aiden, he was offered a few months ago. He was originally from Kentucky but everyone in his hometown was apart of the cult and Lady Gotham likes me so we’re here now. He’s still rattled but being on earth helps him so he can stay as long as he likes. He wants to get into a trade school.”
“And this—“ Phantom tapped the infant on the nose, who giggled and grabbed his finger. “Is Velvet! Like I said she’s a Garaling from The Valley. I literally got her two weeks ago so her fake identity is pretty rushed and I think Batman could tell which is why you’re here. But I need to be here for Aiden, so she’s probably going to stay with me for at least another four weeks or until her room in the Realms is ready.”
“You have an adoption problem,” He groaned. God forbid his Father learn about this even though he knew he had to show him the footage being collected from his mask. Phantom laughed. “Probably. But it’s not like I could just give them away to someone else. Well, I could. But I don’t want to. I don’t have any family other than my sister, and she’s still alive. So it’s nice to have people running around the castle.”
He respected it. Even though he was suspecting Phantom was older than he appeared, his physical appearance was probably the age he died at, he was still going out of his way to take in not only traumatized adults and children but infants. He’d never dealt with infants but he had no doubt that they were a handful, even though Phantom said he had handmaidens he didn’t seem like the type to let them do everything.
“Have you had any problems with vigilantes such as myself? I know Batman can be quite forceful and rude if he encounters something he does not understand.” Phantom allowed Velvet to shake his fingers with surprising strength. “Nope! I’m very good at staying under the radar. That’s why I was so surprised when Batman sent you. Like I said, humans aren’t usually capable of picking up on things like the undead. But it’s probably that contaminated ecto you and him are covered in. Can I ask you about that, by the way?”
Contaminated Ecto? “Whatever do you mean by ‘contaminated’? What is this ecto?” Phantom held his hand up and Damian watched, fascinated and horrified, as Lazarus water bled from his skin and rose into a ball. “This is ectoplasm! Every ghost is made of it. It’s our blood, flesh and atoms all in one. Judging by the look on your face you’ve seen it before?”
Damian cleared his suddenly dry throat. “Uh, yes. We call it Lazarus water, and it comes from Lazarus Pits.” Phantoms eyes narrowed. “Pits? Like, a natural or artificial hole in the ground? It doesn’t move or flow in and out? It just sits there?” Damian told him yes and explained the way the League used the Pits, the effects of being revived or healed by the water. By the end Phantoms carefree attitude had left and in its place was someone who held himself like a king.
“Let me put Velvet to bed.” He waved his hand and the gate and various toys began to float and put themselves away as he picked up Velvet and walked away. He was alone for a few minutes, watching as the toys stacked neatly in a toy box and thinking. There was a whole species of people made out of Lazarus Water. Ectoplasm. Pure ectoplasm. What he’d experienced, had contact with, was apparently so corrupted that Phantom had noticed it.
Phantom came back and sat next to him, running a hand through his hair. “Ok, so; ectoplasm has a mind of its own. It connects with and enhances emotions. That’s why a lot of ghosts are angry or sad. Because the ectoplasm connects with the feelings they had when they were dying, and that’s why ghosts are so emotional. It’s all we’re made of. Some people don’t become ghosts but their emotions do. We call those blob ghosts.”
Phantom looked disturbed. “Ectoplasm can’t just sit there or else it’ll start to deteriorate, mold. It’ll become poisonous, borderline radioactive. It needs to be moving and connected with more ectoplasm to filter it out. Yes it does having insane healing properties but it’s not supposed to hurt you. Never supposed to hurt you. Again it has a mind of its own. Most ectoplasm wants to create new life, heal and help. If this Lazarus water is hurting people, it’s because it wants to. And that’s really, really bad.”
“You said it was boiling?” Damian nodded. “That’s also not good. Ectoplasm is supposed to be cold. That’s why most people who contact ghosts feel cold or the temperature drop. I’ve never heard of ectoplasm boiling before.” Phantom looked very troubled. “You said these pools are controlled by the League of Assassins?” At his nod he waved his hand and a small white circle appeared next to him.
Through the circle he could see only what appeared to be a bookshelf. Phantom traced the spine of a few before pulling one out and closing the circle, flipping through the book. Damian leaned over to read. It seemed to be a list of people. At first he didn’t recognize them, but then the name The Sensei appeared at the top of a page labeled ‘The Demons-Al Ghul’
It was a family tree. One he’d seen and studied more than a million times. It showed his ancestors, great grandfather, Ra’s, his Mother, Dusan, Nyssa, even Mara and I’son. And him. Phantom pointed at his name. “Is this you?” He swallowed.
There wasn’t any real point in lying. He already knew, but if his Father found out he’d get in trouble despite the recording showing Phantom had figured it out himself. “Uh, yes. Yes it is.” Phantom nodded then flipped more pages before coming across a map. He folded the page out and Damian saw it was seven small but detailed maps. Maps of the locations of the Pits.
“Holy shit,” he muttered, “Phantom you can not let anyone find this book. If this got into the wrong hands—“ Phantom laughed. “Don’t worry, Damian. These kinds of books are only in the castle library. No one other than me and my family can get in there.” He flipped through a few more pages before coming across one with a sketch of the Lazarus Pits. Phantoms eyes scanned the pages quickly, growing more concerned the more he read.
“Do you have any of these symptoms? The anger, lost time and enhancement?” Damian bit his lip. “I…used to. The Pit rage and blackouts faded after time and I have no enhancement that I know of. But, one of my brothers, Jason Todd…” Phantom muttered the name, opening another circle and pulling out another book. He flipped through it quicker than before and pointed at a page near the back.
“Jason Peter Todd-Wayne?” Damian nodded. Phantom sighed again. “He’s a revenant, an angry spirit that was put to rest and then forced back into life. It’s no wonder these symptoms stuck with him; this Pit probably attached itself to his barely formed core. It’s a miracle his body’s still functioning.”
“What’s a core?” Damian leaned over and red more names in the book, all unrecognizable. “A core is a ghosts soul. Each core has a sort of unique elemental power or structure to them. I have an ice core.” Phantom opened his hand and Damian watched as wisps of ice and snow rose out of his palm.
“Ok, so; a ghosts age depends on how long they’ve been dead for and how developed their core is. So someone who dies at a hundred will suddenly become a newborn ghost. Ghosts get more powerful with time, and depending on how violently they died they might become newborn ghosts who are already really powerful. I was one of those instances.”
Phantom opened another circle and pulled out another book. “Every new ghost will usually search for or be found by an older ghost who’ll become their caretaker or ‘parent’. These ghosts are supposed to teach the new ghosts about their powers, what type of ghost they are, how their religious beliefs will affect their afterlife. I had a really, really old ghost named Clockwork.”
Phantom flipped through the pages again and showed him one. It seemed to be a medical diagram of a ghost. It was fascinating; they didn’t appear to have muscles or organs, but rather this core acted as not only their stomach and heart but their brain. In fact their whole body seemed to be one big vein, the whole thing circulating this ectoplasm throughout it.
“Finding a new ‘parent’ is really, really important. Like I said before ghosts are nothing but emotions. So when we get lonely, it’s like a major depressive episode. We start hurting ourselves and others, we do things that go against our beliefs or moral codes, we do anything to bring any sort of attention to ourselves. Is this similar to anything Jason went through after being forced back?”
“I believe so? I don’t know what he was really thinking, but he definitely did horrible things that he would never have done before.” Damian didn’t miss the wording Phantom used. Forced. Todd didn’t come back to life, he was dragged back. Ra’s wanted to come back, his Father wanted to come back, he wanted to come back. But Todd had been put to rest somehow. Todd had moved on.
“If Todd had moved on before being forced back, why would he react so violently? If he’d been at peace, why all the anger?” Phantom closed the book and pulled out another, flipping through it to another diagram, but this time it was of a core. It was cut up the way he’d seen cells be in schoolbooks. “I honestly don’t entirely know, and I would have to see Jason or take him to one of my doctor's, but I think it’s because of the Pit.”
“As I said, ectoplasm is slightly sentient. But if this Lazarus water is working the same way normal ectoplasm does but maliciously, then Jason’s entire core might be made out of this corrupt ecto. It might have connected with one of his dying feelings, anger, and blew it out of proportion.” Damian bit the inside of his cheek. Todd would not be happy to learn his new soul is made out of mold and corruption. He’d take it the completely wrong way.
“How would we fix something like this? If a core is every organ, how would we get rid of the Lazarus water his very soul is now made of?” Phantom thought again. “Maybe we could flush it? Like, get him pills or an IV of pure ectoplasm and try to push it out. I don’t really know, but I know a doctor who might.” Damian hesitated before speaking again.
“…Would the Lazarus water fight back? Is it sentient enough to do that? What if by doing this it inadvertently harms him?” Phantoms made a displeased sound. He snapped the book closed and put it back in the portal before turning to him. “I don’t know, but I can find out. The book said there’s one of theses Pits in the Batcave, is that true?” He saw where this was going.
“My father would never let you in,” he started, “But you can bring me some.” Phantom finished. “I can get you some transport-safe tubes from one of my doctors, and they can look it over and find out how it works. If we find out a way to purify it, we may be able to use that to purify all the pits.” It was optimistic, but hell, he could use some hope in his life. And if he got caught, the mask footage would be his saving grace.
“If it is for the purpose of curing Todd of his Pit madness, then I will do whatever needs to be done. Where will you get these containers?” Phantom smiled and opened another portal, this time showing what looked like a laboratory table filled with beakers and containers with a green tint. Phantom grabbed five vials with stoppers and tongs. He handed them to him, and then grabbed a rack and gave him that as well.
“Want me to open one to the Batcave?” “If you wouldn’t mind.” That’ll make it far easier to get to and from, and lessen his chances of getting caught. Phantom stood and opened a much larger white circle, and it showed the closely guarded Lazarus Pit that was deep in the cave. He quickly filled the vials and went back in the apartment. “What now?” Phantom secured the tops with ice before replying, “Now I take this to the Far Frozen. That’s where the best doctors in the Infinite Realms are, they’re a group of Yetis.”
“How long will it take you? How long will it take for them to test it?” “I don’t know,” Phantom opened a larger portal, showing a frozen tundra. There seemed to be a large cave of ice in the distance. “But I’ll be back as soon as possible. We’ll find a way to get rid of the Lazarus Pits, and purify your brother. I promise.” He said it with such certainty and confidence that for a second Damian fully believed him.
In a flash of white Phantom’s hair had turned a snow white and his eyes Lazarus–ectoplasm green. He was wearing a black suit similar to a superhero’s with white gloves and boots, and he had what looked to be a crown of northern lights. He had a white cape that’s inside showed stars, and the absolute power he radiated almost knocked Damian down. Phantom smiled at him, reassuringly and calm, then stepped into the portal. It closed without a sound, and Damian was left with his thoughts.
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belu-bleeb · 3 months
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Danny lost count.
belu_bleeb is typing…
I changed up my style formatting, trying to experiment, since this kind of formatting style will be like in the upcoming mini series.
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frownyalfred · 3 months
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Bruce giving all his kids little forehead kisses when they sleep or when he's to sleep-deprived to realize he has gone on the tip of his toes to kiss Clark's forhead too and is now attempting to kiss Alfred's forehead
Bruce pressed a brief kiss to Dick’s forehead, stepping away from the medbay cot.
Alfred watched, bemused, as Bruce — more sleep deprivation than man, currently — rocked up onto the tops of his toes and did the same to Clark, who was perched by the doorway.
Jason — Clark’s height, and easily mistakable for the Kryptonian when one barely had their eyes open — cleared his throat awkwardly.
Bruce’s eyes cracked open. He slowly looked between Jason and Clark, who was staring at the floor with color rising in his cheeks.
“Hn.”
Alfred closed his eyes, accepting his fate with a shocked inhale. Bruce’s lips grazed his forehead, a there-and-gone blessing.
Three days of sleep deprivation and an injured child were enough to drive most men to madness and despair.
Bruce, it seemed, had been pushed to the worst of cliff edges — open displays of physical affection.
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sp0o0kylights · 7 months
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You know what I want to see, I want to see more of Steve, Eddie, and Robin being 1980s small town kids from Indiana, by which I mean;
Robin is The Source of Gay Knowledge purely because her parents host Hippie Christmas and she managed to sneak away to find a neat bookstore in Indiana once. 
Her knowledge is not in depth. It's patchy, woven together through rumors, stories she heard or things she picked up from her parents' old pictures. She's got a handful of zines, one book, and some movies she managed to order for Family Video behind Keith's back.
She acts like she's Queen of the Queers because in Hawkins she pretty much is.
(Max and El ask her what a lavender marriage is once, something they overheard snooping around. 
Robin confidentially answers that it's code for when one woman dresses up as a man, fooling officials into wedding two woman.
She does not live this down two years later when they find out what it actually means.) 
Eddie doesn't spend every weekend in Indianapolis. 
Gas is expensive, his busiest days of his "job" is Friday and Saturday, and he has no fucking clue what the hanky code is. 
He's wearing that bandana because Metallica front singer James Hetfield has one on all their tour posters. 
Eddie does make it down to a gay bar though, by accident. Rick needed some back up for a shady deal. Promised Eddie a boatload of free drugs to sell if he agreed to just stand there and look mean. 
He was warned the bar they were meeting in was 'weird' and to not 'freak out' --which Eddie thought was hilarious given his nickname and general appearance, but whatever.
He doesn't understand when they get there, because it's just a bunch of hot men with hanky's in their back pockets everywhere.
Then he sees two women kissing and it clicks. 
He can't out himself in front of Rick, but one of the bartenders playfully dresses him down for his own hanky, letting him know all about the code and teasing him through his embarrassment. 
He's got an offer to come back and learn what color and which pocket his hanky should actually be in, a prospect Eddie was salivating at until Chrissy Cunningham up and died on his ceiling.
(He still wore the hanky, because the feeling of that bartender tugging it out and stuffing it back in might be the closest thing he's ever had to sex and he absolutely wants a repeat. 
He's young and horny, sue him.) 
Steve Harrington may not be academically smart but he's not dumb. 
He figured out a while back that the basketball team as a unit probably crossed the queer line more than once--or at least it did before Hargrove came in. 
( Brad Handly for example, went around slamming kids into lockers and screaming slurs like a fucking movie villain one Monday because the varsity team got dead drunk at Laura's party on Sunday and hey, look, there weren't that many girls there, okay?
They all had fucking hands and mouths. Everybody but Tommy was single and hot to trot. Nothing gay about it.
Its not even like they were kissing or treating each other like chicks. It was just Brad's first time and they got to tease him later for overthinking it. 
Dude graduated soon enough after and given Steve was on the team as a sophomore, he hadn't thought about the guy and why he might be freaking out so bad in years.) 
Robin's entire panic attack at Starcourt, and a few more after had Steve replaying that whole incident. Reframed it a bit, and, yeah.
In retrospect that had been extremely gay, actually. 
It sat with him a lot easier than he'd thought it would. Partially because of Robin, but mostly because that's just who he was.
Stranger things had happened to Steve and this one didn't want to kill, maim or otherwise eat him, so it got filed under 'interesting facts he should never tell his parents if he wanted to keep his trust fund' and then he went about his day. 
(Or he tried too, anyways.
It caught up to him when Eddie and Robin somehow figured out the other was queer and dragged him along to some bar Eddie had a standing invitation at, with demands for Steve to do what he did best.
Babysit.
Their magical trip was utterly destroyed when Brad Handly happened to be the very same bartender who had given Eddie the invite.
 Considering Brad's immediate bark of laughter followed by a hug and introducing himself as "Steve's gay awakening", Steve ended up having to speedrun through Eddie and Robin both having a crisis for him.
It didn't help that Steve had politely, and laughingly, corrected Brad with a casual; 
"Pretty sure that was Tommy man, but if it helps I think that tongue of yours gave Matt Burdon a crisis."
--which ended up with him answering a lot more gay sex questions with Brad than he cared too. 
At least he, through Brad, was able to help Robin connect to some local lesbians and--after a second crisis from Eddie regarding how Steve managed to have more sex than "the resident town freak and guy who actually knew he was gay, Steve!"-- even helped Eddie out by catching the metalheads tongue with his mouth later that evening.
The last one landed him a boyfriend, trust fund be damned.) 
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star-rin · 9 months
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⸺ MEAN BOYS WHO...
𝓲 — condom breaking, dubcon but noncon??, about mean boys who do something bad ;(, WRAP IT BEFORE U TAP OKAY STAY SAFE!
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mean boys who.. are so smooth with getting you into bed. they love the way you feel against them and how they feel while inside of you.
mean boys.. who are kinda bummed you made them use a condom even though wanted to go fully raw inside of you, not like it matters because of how girthy they are. they practically not even wearing one from how thin it is.
mean boys who.. feel themselves getting closer to their climax, and it hits them when they feel you convulsing around them. the primal urge to cum inside you.. not in a condom but inside of you. their wish being granted just in time as they delivered the final thrust groaning and riding through their orgasm.
mean boys who.. look up at you, with a shocked face, and confusion-filled eyes; hissing as they pulled out. his eyes soon brighten up and a wide greedy smile pulls across their face. whoops! the condom broke and his dick is covered with his and your cum. no wonder you looked so shocked ;(
boys who... kuroo, eren, getou, mikey, jean, bokuto, hanma, gojo, rintdou, tsukishima, ran, toji, daichi, yuta...(ur choice)
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© STAR-RIN | © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
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ddawnee · 10 months
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hobie’s seen some of miles’ graffiti work and took interest in it himself, so one day he asks miles if he could spray paint a spider on one of his plain tees to give it pizazz.
usually, miles isn’t really worried about his graffiti art being perfect; but this time it’s different. hobie’s cool as hell, what if he doesn’t like the finished product? that’d destroy his ego.
so he’s been circling around the t-shirt that laid on the floor, shaking a can of black spray paint for about ten minutes now. it was simple, really; all he needed to do was a circle and then the spider on the inside, but he couldn’t bring himself to start just yet, because what if the circle comes out lopsided, or he doesn’t make the spider big enough to fit four legs on each side?
it didn’t really help that hobie leaned against the wall in front of miles, observing miles circle around like a nervous mess.
“miles.. you good?”
“huh?”
“you’ve been doing..” unsure of what to call it, hobie motions with his hand, “this, for the past ten minutes. do you like.. need some inspo?”
“oh no, it’s not that, it’s just..” he isn’t sure how to cover it up, so he just is honest, “i don’t wanna mess it up, it’s gotta look nice.”
“it’s fine, no big deal if it’s messy.”
“you sure?” miles stops his pacing, looking down at the blue tee. it was modified, the collar and bottom hem messily torn off to fit hobie’s style more, and now miles felt a bit stupid for overthinking his craft; hobie was all about messy!
“yeah, the shirt don’t got any sentimental value for me yet, so i’m not gonna get mad if you absolutely fuck up the spider.” hobie shrugs.
miles raises a brow. “yet?” he’s really curious about what that means, and even finds himself hoping it means what he thinks it does.
he totally isn’t sure why though, of course.
“yeah, right now this shirt is just like, basic.” hobie starts, and miles doesn’t realize it but his voice gets a bit softer. “it doesn’t really have a meaning, but once you give it your touch it gets its value, because it’s your craft that you’re giving to me, y’know?”
there’s a lot more that hobie wanted to say, but he couldn’t get the courage to do it. he realizes he kind of went off on a tangent, and possibly annoyed miles, if it weren’t for the wide eyed look on the boy’s face. “sorry, that was a bit too much.” he grimaces.
“oh, oh no, it’s fine!” miles reassures the other, a smile on his face. “i appreciate your appreciation a lot.”
he shakes the can of spray paint, a hint of determination in his eyes as he looks at the tee once more.
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norrisleclercf1 · 7 months
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Lando's Replacement
Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader
Rating: G
Words: 765
Requested: Yes/No
Request: Could you do a mini lando new part where Aiden starts karting and lando is nervous about it thanks love your writing
Warnings: None, just fluff
Mini Lando Series
A/N: Aiden is 8, Caleb is 5 and Daniel is 3
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"I'm not built for this stress, Y/n," Lando whispers, staring at your son Aiden. You can't help but roll your eyes at your husband. After all the years he spent giving you stress, he's the one who can't handle it? Drama queen.
"Really? Now you know how I've felt for the past 15 years." Lando grimaces as Aiden moves around his new kart, bumping his shoulder with yours, ensuring everything is in order. "Daddy? How do I start it?" Lando gives a wobbly smile to his little boy. Except he's not so little anymore.
At 8 years old, Aiden has fallen in love with karting and has spoken about following in his father's footsteps. "Let me show you." Lando straddles the kart and turns the ignition. The kart rumbles and then sputters to life. "Cool!" Aiden yells, not even waiting for Lando to get out of the way before he pops himself into the seat.
"Mommy, look!" Aiden can't hide his excitement while Lando looks down at the kart with horror. "Can't believe my Dad and Mum allowed me to do this." He whispers, grabbing Aiden's own crash helmet. "Lando, he's going to be fine. All he's doing is learning how to drive it, not racing." Covering your husband's shaky hand.
Lando has always been protective, especially of Aiden. After all the trouble you two went to get pregnant, it was hard on Lando to see his firstborn become a person and one that wanted to join karting. "He's safe. You had McLaren build his helmet and the kart. Plus you oversaw all of it. He's safe." Lando nods, stepping back from the kart as Aiden slides the helmet on.
"Well, looks like Lando has got some competition now." You don't even have to turn to know who it was. "Mommy, what's A doing?" Oscar stands next to you, holding your youngest, Daniel, and the hand of your second, Caleb. "A is learning to drive a kart like Daddy used to." Explaining what Aiden was doing to Caleb was hard sometimes because whatever Aiden was doing, Caleb wanted to do it, too.
"Can I join?" Right on time, smiling, you push his curly hair back. "Not yet, you're far too small. When you're 8 and still want to try it, we can." Oscar chuckles, seeing Aiden zip off. "Aiden! Brakes!" Lando yells. You cover your snort, seeing your husband chase after your laughing son. "He'll have grey hairs when this is over." Oscar adjusts little Daniel on his hip.
"Good, it'll humble his ass. He puts me through hell whenever he drives. He'll finally understand why I'm just as exhausted as him by the end of a race." Caleb giggles, wanting to run after his father, but you hold him close. "Lando has been dreading this. When Aiden first asked him, I thought he'd faint." Oscar smiled at his old teammate, having moved to Red Bull after his 4th season, and was in a tight battle with Lando, Charles, and Max for a WDC.
"Mommy, look how fast I'm going!" Aiden yells, hitting the gas and whipping his head back. You wince seeing it, but the rings of Aiden's laughter ease your worries. "Aiden, please!" Lando yells, stopping before you, gasping for air and sweat lining his forehead. "You're getting old." Oscar quips. Lando looks up, glaring at the Aussie. "I'm not old, just aging. Like fine whiskey." Oscar just rolls his eyes. "Your son is doing donuts." Lando takes off again, leaving Caleb cackling, watching his father.
"Maybe we should get Max or Carlos to teach Aiden?" You ask Oscar, but he shakes his head no. "He might be freaking out, but he's loving this. It's a memory they'll both look on fondly." Aiden laughs at the sound of the engine cut off as Lando scoops his oldest up.
The image of them laughing, Lando lecturing him with no anger as Aiden just giggles. "Yes, Daddy," Aiden says, his little body wobbling as his helmet makes him look like a life-size bobblehead. "Did you have fun?" Aiden nods, your fingers working quickly to get the helmet off. "It was so much fun. Daddy said we can return with Uncle Carlos, Max, and Oscar!" Aiden jumps around.
"I would love that." Oscar bends down, ruffling Aiden's hair. "Yes! With you teaching me, I can replace Daddy at McLaren." He laughs, and Lando's eyes budge out. The thought of Aiden driving in F1 was enough to kill him. "Y/n, this payback, isn't it?" He whispers, you just smirk. "Oh, sweet, sweet revenge, darling." Kissing his cheek.
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konaharts · 1 month
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RadioStatic Week 2024
First Meeting
[I'm probably not going to do all the days due to work, but I wanted to draw at least this one!
I know they most likely met while Vox was building a video/tv empire in Hell, but I couldn't get this one scenario out of my head of Alastor finding Vox shortly after he arrives in Hell. Enjoy this mini-fic I wrote about it!]
The sinner was scrawny, a picture box laying on his shoulders, the glass having been broken in by the demons Alastor had just chased away. What looked like a face occasionally flashed on the screen.
The Radio Host's eyes scrunched up in disgust, his very personal feelings and opinions about televisions flooding into him. He should have passed on by.
Whoever this sinner was, he was possibly one of the most pathetic-looking sinners Alastor had ever laid his eyes upon.
Even so, a sinner down on his luck was another opportunity for a deal and another avenue to grow his power.
"My, my. You look like you've seen better days! Welcome to Hell, my good fellow!"
At the sound of the Radio Demon's voice, the newest arrival to Hell turned his head, the broken screen flashing, occasionally illuminating Alastor's face. A distorted, filtered voice with uneven volume emanates from the picture box, words occasionally repeating and stuttering due to the damage.
"H-H-Hell? W-W-Wał₮…I. I. I. I. Kn-Know th-th-₮Ⱨ₳₮ voł₵Ɇ."
Alastor paused.
"Oh?"
"A-A-Al₳₴₮ØⱤ ████████. ₣ⱤØ₥ ₮ⱧɆ ███ ███████ RadĐłØ ₴ⱧØ₩. I-I-It's beɆ₦ ɎɆ₳Ɽ₴, b-b-but I re₵Ø₲₦łⱫɆ th₳₮ vØł₵Ɇ."
This was unexpected. With the wave of his cane, Alastor's powers begin to turn the clock on the sinner's face, repairing it, piece by piece.
"You've heard of me?"
"Ⱨ₳ve I?" The last bit of machinery and glass push themselves in, the cracks instantly healing. A flash, and a now-complete face graces the screen. The distorted voice disappears, replaced by the voice of an enthusiastic man with a filter similar to Alastor's own. "Why, you're my inspiration!" The sinner's face beams with excitement.
Finally, some proper recognition in this hellhole. Alastor's grin turns into a wide smile. Dare he say, genuine, for once?
"Well, well, well! What a surprise! It's not everyday I come across someone who's heard of me before falling into the pits of Hell! Tell me,"
Alastor helps up the television man and straightens his antenna.
"What do they call you, ol' chum?"
The sinner hesitates. No doubt someone or something had informed him about how sinners tend to change their names upon arriving in Hell.
"…Vox."
A peculiar name.
"Well, Voxy, I know a place with the best drinks this side of town! Let's have a chat and get you settled in, hm?"
With an arm around his shoulder, Alastor leads Vox away. Despite his reservations with the...asset...Hell had so graciously gifted this poor soul as a head, maybe having someone with knowledge about television that he could manipulate wouldn't be so bad.
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quotergirl19 · 30 days
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Colin: You seemed to enjoy your dance with Lord Debling.
Penelope: I did. He’s the first gentleman who has ever wanted to dance with me.
Colin: That is untrue. You and I have danced many times.
Penelope: Lord Debling actually wanted to dance with me. He made me feel like I was special to him and said I was lovely. You only ask me to dance out of pity. You do not count.
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Arthur has never carved a pumpkin before, but Faroe needn’t know that.
He does, however, have the good sense to spare her the sight of him divesting the pumpkin of its innards. The sight of it was repulsive to him, a grown adult, and he has a feeling Faroe won’t eat the pumpkin seeds he just put in the oven if she finds out where they came from.
With the green, fresh scent of salt and raw pumpkin permeating the tiny kitchen, Arthur goes and gets Faroe from her nap. While she rubs sleep from her eyes with a clumsy fist, he lifts her up and sits her on the counter next to the pumpkin. At the sight of it, she perks up instantly.
“Are we?” she asks.
“Yes, we are,” he smiles.
Continue under the cut or read the whole thing on AO3!
“What kind of face do you want to put on it?”
“Happy,” she decides immediately. “Not scary.”
“Okay. I’ll help you draw it.”
He lets Faroe hold the pen, and gently helps her trace an adorably imperfect, crooked smile on the pumpkin. While the dark ink dries, he lays out more newsprint under their workspace to catch any mess. Faroe kicks her legs against the counter in excitement.
“Now comes the hard part,” he tells her. “We’re going to cut out the shapes.”
“Can I do it?”
“Yes, I’ll be right here to help you.”
She grins beatifically at him, and Arthur forgets all his nerves. He is now accustomed to constantly feeling out of his depth - he has no idea what he’s doing as a single parent, and fully expects that someday the pressure to avoid screwing up her childhood is going to do him in. But he hides all of this anxiety under a placid smile back at her. She can never know that he feels lost and never knows the right answers. To her, he’s the one who can solve all the problems, and will always be there to make things better. She’s right only on one of those counts.
“Careful now,” Arthur says. He guides Faroe’s tiny hands until they wrap around his, and together they grip the carving knife. “Watch out, it’s sharp.”
“Sharp,” Faroe repeats happily. “Okay.”
She lines the point of the knife up against the soft orange flesh, right where one of the corners of the future jack-o-lantern’s grin will be.
“Here?”
“Yes, are you ready?”
“Mhm,” she nods. Together, they push forward, and the blade pierces through the pumpkin. “Whoa,” she giggles.
“Having fun?”
“Uh-huh!”
The carving takes longer than Arthur thought. It’s hard work, and getting the grin just right takes concentration that frankly neither he nor Faroe possess. So they do it a bit slapdash, but that’s alright. When they set aside the knife at last, the finished face looking back at them is goofy and somewhat Cubist. It’s perfect.
It’s nearly sunset now. Arthur finds a small candle that got tossed in the junk drawer years ago and pulls his lighter from his pocket. “I’m going to do this part, I don’t want you to burn yourself, okay?”
“Okay,” Faroe says. She watches him eagerly as he places the candle inside the hollow pumpkin and lights the wick. Arthur’s thumb complains a bit when he accidentally gets a bit too close to the flame, but he hardly notices because his eyes are on his daughter.
Her face is enchanted, mesmerized. She reaches for the lid to put it on. “Can I give him his hat?”
“Sure.”
-
They bring it outside with them and sit on the porch to admire their handiwork. The finished jack-o-lantern is lit with shadow and dark orange light, flickering through the open grinning mouth.
“Look at what we made,” Arthur says, watching Faroe’s tiny face in the dim light of the candle glow. “Do you like it?”
“It’s so pretty!”
“I agree,” he chuckles. 
Is there more to the world than knowing Faroe is happy? No, he doesn’t think so. 
“Happy Halloween, Faroe.”
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nighternex · 2 months
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Something lurks in the dark...
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This was originally just supposed to be lethal company art until my funky little brain told me the bracken would look pretty if it had leaves/ferns on its head.
Then mid-way through sketching another bit of my brain whispered that it looked kinda like Sun from fnaf don't he?
Well one thing spiraled into another and now the hoarder bug is a mini-music man and the bracken is the daycare attendant. 👍
Good night everyone.
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lovelytsunoda · 8 months
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i want candy // lando norris
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summary: two podiums in a row for her lover boy. it’s time to celebrate.
pairing: lando norris x female reader
warnings: pure smut, but also giggly and kind of giddy.
“I mean, I stopped counting max’s wins like three races ago so in my books, you’re the big winner.” she laughs, settling across from him on the bed.
“if only the fia saw it that way.” lando laughed, clinking his glass against hers before tilting the champagne to his lips. “but two p2s in a row isn’t too bad, is it?”
“I’m proud of you, lando norris.”
lando smiled, leaning in to kiss her softly. “I’m glad you’re here.”
they crossed their arms over each others, chugging back their glasses. landos thumb rested on her upper thigh, near the hem of her tennis dress as he rubbed gentle circles on her skin. he leaned in, growling playfully as he sucked a hickey onto her neck.
“lando!” she giggled, jumping slightly at the contact against her sensitive skin, dropping the glass and frowning as the champagne worked its way across her skin, dripping onto the hotel bedspread.
“sorry, love.” he laughs, leaning down to lick up the champagne on her thigh.
she moans at the contact, placing the now empty glass on her nightstand before she leans back against the pillows, going up her skirt as lando sucks and kicks his way up her thigh, leaving hickeys and the stick of alcohol in his wake.
“come claim your prize, podium sitter:” she laughs, opening her thighs wider to expose the glittery orange panties she’s wearing. “it’s all for you, pretty boy.”
lando bites his bottom lip, hungry hands reaching to pull down her soaked panties, trying his best not to tear them.”
“lando..” she whined “you’re going too slowly.”
lando giggled, nuzzling his face into her thigh with a kiss. “I forgot how needy champagne makes you.”
“oh fuck off.” she laughs, reaching over to ruffle his hair. “please, lando.”
the driver crept his way up her thigh, blowing cool air over her clit, relishing in watching her drip onto the bedsheets. he leaned in and kissed her sopping core softly, gently teasing her with his tongue.
“you taste just like candy, love. and I want more.”
he kissed her again with even more intensity, slipping his tongue inside of her as she let out a hearty moan, arching her back from the bed before landos large hands pressed her back towards the mattress.
“lando!” she whined “fuck, god, please keep doing that.”
he grinned, witching his focus higher to suck her clit, sneaking a few fingers inside her while he was distracted. she moaned heartily, thighs threatening to close around his head as he rapidly plunged his fingers in and out of her opening, appendages covered in evidence of her arousal.
“try and keep your thighs open, baby. be a good girl for me.” lando cooed, pinching her clit with his free hand.
she screamed his name, bucking against his fingers and fighting the urge to touch her hard nipples underneath her dress. she settled for clutching the sheets, fingers becoming stiff from how hard she clutches the pristine white fabric.
it still astounded her how quickly lando could reduce her to this babbling moaning mess. she doesn’t beg, ever, but somehow lando could get her chanting ‘please’ like it was the only word in the dictionary, like it was a prayer for salvation.
“I can feel you clenching around my fingers, pretty girl.” lando chuckled, picking up the pace he was scissoring his fingers at, changing up the rhythm for better sensations, ones he knew would push her over the edge. “is my good girl going to come for me? come on my fingers, love, don’t be scared. soak my fingers in your come.”
“oh god!” she whines, things finally closing in around her lover as he uses his thumb to draw desperate circles on her clit, her fingers pulling on his curls, a growl leaving his throat. “lando, I’m gonna-“
“that’s it, pretty one. come for me. come, come. I’m the only one who can make you feel this good.”
“yes, god, lando, only you.” she babbled, unable to say much else as she came, walls contracting around landos fingers. “only you.”
he pulled his fingers out, slipping them into his mouth and sucking her juices off them. her eyes rolled back at the sight as lando positioned himself above her, a noticeable tent in his trousers.
“now look what you’ve done, pretty girl.” he chuckled, kissing her softly, allowing her to pull him into his arms. “I think you should take that dress off and let me unwrap the rest of my prize, because there’s no way in hell I’m done with you yet.”
TAGS:
@magnummagnussen @diorleclerc @thatsdemko @sidcrosbyspuck @scuderiamh @scuderiasundays @lorarri @oconso @silverstonesainz @userlando @httpiastri
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bantaro-bird · 2 months
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I'm curious, can grian grab things with his bird feets?
He can! And it was gonna be incorporated into the scene, but I abridged it. It would have gone like this:
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Grian snatched up whatever Etho was holding to see what it was and he was NOT expecting THAT.
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frownyalfred · 7 months
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as someone who works in comms I just KNOW Clark absolutely calls up Bruce when he’s stuck on a story and needs a quote. And every time, Bruce just sighs, does him a solid, and gives him the most inane, printable quote for the sake of PR. Even his voice changes, to Clark’s horror.
“Hey,” Clark says, scribbling the time down on his notepad, “Feel like commenting on the stadium expansion?”
Bruce sighs.
“You’d be in favor,” Clark explains quickly, keeping his voice hushed, “Happy to support the local team, yada yada.”
“If you have the quote already, why call me?”
“Because I need to hear you say it,” Clark says, “I’m still a journalist, B.”
There’s a pause, like Bruce is holding back another sigh. Then the sound of something creaking. A chair?
“I’m thrilled to hear about the proposal on Mayor Quincey’s desk,” Bruce said, smooth and easy, “Gotham deserves a sports team with the best stadium and resources we can offer. Investing in our city means investing in our future.”
Clark quickly jots down the quote in shorthand, nodding along. “And when the news breaks that it’s been approved?”
Bruce snorts. “Can I still be thrilled?”
“You can be proud or excited,” Clark offers, chewing on his lip.
“Fine,” Bruce says, “Run it by my publicist before you publish. Not sure why I’m paying them instead of you.”
The phone clicks. Clark grins, circling Bruce’s name on his notepad.!
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