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veryrealimagination · 12 days

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Whumpay Attempt, Prompts 1-4

This is me attempting some Whumpay prompts. I took the first four days and mashed them.

If you're reading the Murdoch Mysteries Portia AU, spoilers for what I have planned for last act of the first story

Watts groaned as his consciousness came back. The last thing he remembered was a meal from the Round Table. It had been almost empty, sad really as he enjoyed talking to several Portians. The waiter he didn’t recognize gave him his meal along with the tea. It had tasted wrong, but he didn’t like criticizing Fei’s things. Sometimes, people just have off days. It was making him a little sick, though, and just outside the Round Table, he had almost crashed into the ground if someone hadn’t helped him get back to his feet.

Expecting to be in the Clinic, or his room at the Workshop, he instead woke up in a cell. The walls were straight stone with no cracks or breaks to allow someone to work on destroying them. The door was metal, with a small window that was currently closed with a small door for slipping small things through.

He was viscerally reminded of his time with Duvos.

The only difference currently was that he hadn’t been left on the floor. They hadn’t given him anything to sleep on while he was captured. He supposed, that if he had given them the weapons they wanted, they would have given him things in return. More food, a blanket or a pillow. Whoever kidnapped him had set up a metal bedframe and a thin mattress. That told him it wasn’t Duvos. It was a sad fact.

Sitting up was a struggle, with his body uncooperative and unable to move decently. Once he did manage to get himself up, he had to use the wall behind him to keep up.

Nothing really changed with the move, until he saw that there was a strange red light in one of the corners. It was positioned over a small set up of a toilet and sink. Even that was more than what Duvos gave him. Now he was worried, and curious, as to who had set this up.

His stomach wasn’t happy. Whatever he had been drugged with was still in his system, which was making him a bit nauseous. A part of him was also hungry. The meal had only been half-eaten, and it felt as if he had gone beyond his normal wake up and starting time for the Workshop and the chores needed. His body wanted food, but it wanted something made by someone he knew. The chicken soup that Aunt Margy made or the pancakes on the winter’s morning before the hotpot.

Hearing sounds coming from the other side of the door, he sat up as straight as he could handle to face whomever was on the other side. The movement of metal on the other side alerted him to the locks that must have been in place. He wondered why it wasn’t a single one, as he heard multiple pops and clanks. *The place where a doorknob should be is already missing, as the person put a slab of metal that makes it almost impossible to open. That means the holes for locks is also gone. The window and the small delivery box is also unlikely near the locks. They don’t need that many.* He counted to three possible locks and hinges before the door opened.

James had dug up a photo of James Gillies, a week after they suspected. Watts had never seen him during his walks around the town. Not even anyone covered up unnaturally or in disguise. He had gotten good at that in Ethea with the other Builders and their help over there. The photo had not captured the intensity of his stare, or the hidden emotions that must have lurked when he had been in Portia the first couple of times.

Like the obsession he currently saw in the man right now.

He had a tray holding a bowl and a tea cup. Walking in, he sat it down on the far end. Right now, he knew that Watts wouldn’t be able to do anything to him. He was weak and it showed. “Llewellyn Watts,” he said, “I finally got you.”

It was hard to not plead to be let go. He didn’t know what the man wanted, but some of the horror stories were enough to give him bad dreams. The woman working with Duvos laughed at him when he started pleading from pain, after being whipped for the fourth or fifth time. James would have been of the same vein. “I don’t know if having me is such a great thing,” he pointed out, trying to keep a neutral and disinterested face up. It was challenging. “I was a nuisance to Duvos and have become a bit of a trouble magnet.”

He fake pondered that for a few seconds. “I don’t think it qualifies if I was behind chunks of your trouble,” he said. “Besides, it’s going to take them some time to figure out where I’ve set up this time. I would have to go out into Portia and manage to get one of the Corps members, or William and Pennie’s attention and they would have to follow me closely. And I right now have enough smuggled away to not need to go out for a season.”

That shook Llewellyn. He knew William and James would be smart enough to figure it out, especially once they find out he was missing again. There was likely clues left behind. But Gillies felt he had a good enough cover for his operations that they wouldn’t be able to find him until he went back out. His uncle would be tearing Portia apart trying to find him and he likely wouldn’t be able until Gillies popped his head up again.

The sickness in his stomach got worse the longer he thought about it.

“So, you and I are going to become much more acquainted,” he said, “And this is a peace offering. It’s your aunt Margaret’s soup.” Well, his wish of having food from someone around him came true. He didn’t like that fact that the man must have gone to his aunt to request and pick it up from her. They never told him what he tried to target his Aunt with. “Along with a lavender and chamomile tea. Something I dare say you picked up from William. Neither have been drugged, like what I did to your meal two nights ago.”

Two nights? How did the man manage to keep him sedated for two nights with a mere half a meal that had been drugged?! Either the man was lying about the time he had already been there, tearing into his slightly fragile mind, or what he had was severely dangerous. Quite possibly, not meant for human consumption and was meant for animals. Jack told him about medicines that were for horses and cows, that were stronger than the human counterparts.

Oh, it wasn’t Fei behind his meal, but somehow Gillies made it? Well, now he knew why the food wasn’t on par with the other man’s. Dare he think it, it sucked. The waiter that served it was too tall, so it wasn’t him that also served. *He has help? Oh, he might have help.* That could mean there was another person in the place where he was being held. If he managed, by a miracle, to get away while the man was incapacitated, then another person would be able to stop him.

He would only be able to get out with outside help. By Light, he wanted everyone bursting in to save him right now. He would feel embarrassed later on back home with a mug of cocoa while bundled up in a blanket leaning on either his Uncle or James.

Instead, he picked up the tea cup, noted that it was made of a light wood. That and the spoon and the bowl and the tray, were made from the same wood. Since it was light, he wouldn’t do much damage to Gillies if he tried to use it and bash it all on his skull. Planned most likely, along with something he couldn’t stab with. He slowly sipped the liquid. It was a bit more powerful than William’s, but it didn’t hurt his stomach.

“Excellent. I’ll be back in an hour to pick up the tray,” he said. “I don’t think you need any sort of warning about what could happen from keeping anything. Duvos likely did something to ensure you never tried anything.”

With a reminder of his last imprisonment, the man left through the door and locked it behind him. His next breath was a long and harsh one, trying not to cry and still letting out wetness. Watts would not let James Gillies break him. Duvos barely got there, and it took several weeks before he broke down crying from one of his torture sessions. His aunt’s soup tasted a little off, but he hoped that it hadn’t been drugged, instead just something being wrong with it.

Of course, he could have been lying about it being his Aunt’s soup. Watts wouldn’t be surprised if the man had all the ingredients and tried to make it himself. The tea would suggest that. It being stronger had him believing it wasn’t William’s specific blend.

When he was done with both, he stood up to carry the stuff over. Wobbling, it took him almost four minutes, having to stop before he collapsed before he got to the door. Once he placed the tray and everything in there, he was forced to close it before he could see who would be taking it. It would be interesting to see if it was Gillies or his current partner.

Then, there was shuffling back over to collapse on the bed. Not even much movement and he was already drained. *Likely done on purpose. He said he didn’t drug it, but I wouldn’t trust that man.* he laid down, unable to keep himself up even with the wall’s help. His sleep was troubled.

There had at least been one day. Not two, he hoped, before Gillies came back. “Come along, Watts, today, we start testing,” he announced. The man was entirely too cheerful. Llewellyn really hoped that the small amount of energy he had in him would be enough to get away.

When he got close to the man, he attempted to punch him. It was something he had watched Jackson do and he thought that there was enough force behind it. Which there was. Gillies had the foresight to move to the side when he attempted. Thrown off balance, he felt a hand wrap around his arm. Another worked through his hair and before he understood, his head was bashed into the wall. “Fighting me will not work in your favor,” he warned.

He got that now, as his head radiated pain and he had to hold back tears. The hand on his head disappeared and helped in capturing his arms. Being forced forward, his sight was a bit wonky, but he still managed to see some possible areas to ever explore if he got free.

The room he pushed him into was a quasi mash of medical and scientific. He recognized the setup for chemical mixings. Several areas of almost Builder related benches and tables. A sterilization area similar to the one that the Flying Pigs had in Orzu. Just off the center was a table, cleaned and polished metal, with restraints attached to it.

It was there that he was led. Gillies got his left arm down and bound. He couldn’t even try to undo it, the grips switched over to his right arm. Dragged onto it, he was tied down by his right as well. He sighed, “I should have made you take off your clothing in the cell.” That drew a terrified look out of him. There may have been some threats, but Duvos soldiers never touched him. “Oh, not for that. I need access to your leg.”

That didn’t help his terror. The man thought about his options for a minute before grabbing something off of a far away table. He pointed the gun on Watts’s head before undoing his left arm. “Take off your pants,” he directed, “I need to get to the location of the wound on your leg that my Jump Dancers attacked.”

Having it explained wasn’t quite as nice as it should have been. Reluctantly, he shuffled his pants down until they were over his knees and to the feet. The man ever so helpfully took off his shoes and pants before setting them aside. Then redid his arm to the table before strapping his legs down. The right one had an additional strap to make sure it didn’t move.

Gillies rolled over a table. From the small glints, he saw multiple types of medical equipment. The worse were scalpels, from the size of a nail to half a pointer finger. Two of the larger syringes weren’t the greatest either. “Let’s start with getting a good look at the area,” he muttered. A clipboard with a pen and paper were grabbed, as he inspected what was left of the wound. Prodding, measurements, pulling, he wrote all of his thoughts down on the paper. “I forget how good Julia is at dealing with wounds that should be fatal. She said it was something about Portia. I call that ridiculous. A simple place does not have abilities like this.”

After several minutes of simply recording observations with his eyes and fingers, he moved on. Bringing over a machine, he threw something over him except the wound area. It was quite heavy. He clicked it a couple of times, similar to a camera. Then, he was done and the thing was lifted. Sad, the weight was nice.

Something beeped and buzzed across the room. Gillies walked over and picked up what appeared to be pictures. Although they were odd, only in black and white and he couldn’t make out what they were. “Oh, how interesting. The areas of bone that were broken and shattered are quite visible. You’re healed, yes, but there’s notable build around the damage. It’s in one of their bite shapes.”

“I want to see it.”

Watts felt terror as something was shoved into his mouth and a strap wrapped around to keep in place. Even with the leg strapped down, he was able to move it. This annoyed Gillies. “Well, you will be trying out some of my new procedures. I need to be able to operate on living beings without issue while keeping them alive.”

Going over to the medical area, he shuffled through his chemical creations until he lifted something of a pale yellow. “First test of the paralysis serum,” he listed, explaining to his captive audience about what he had. To be fair, he hadn’t had an audience in ages, guests even less, and William didn’t appreciate it. Something about dark, inhumane, hurting his family and friends. Blah, blah, blah. He walked back over while talking.

“There were animals before the Dark Ages that had the ability to paralyze their prey by bite, by sting, before devouring them. Some of the journals, the animal guides, the medical research, survived. Held by those that understood that the knowledge had to be discovered again if any of those animals also emerged as humanity did from the darkness. I had access to them in Vega Five. It was part of my studies. I had plans about going into medical prescription. My Mother had such a fascination about the interactions of chemicals on humans. She helped people, bless her Light. Made medications that balanced a person’s brain chemicals, their organs, their skin. That one was due to me as a teen. Horrible acne.”

He loaded up a syringe, one of the ones that he didn’t enjoy the sight. “I heard about venom, poison, being the basis for some of the most well used and useful chemicals for human consumption. A part of me was curious when I came to Portia the first time. Something has become different about humans since the Day of Calamity and the Age of Darkness. A great deal have higher tolerances to the poisons from snakes and Dancers.” Gillies mockingly looked down on his victim. “Well, most of us.” Choosing an area near where he wanted to cut, he grabbed another bottle, which held some brown substance on a cotton stick, and rubbed it all over. “Don’t want you getting infected.”

Injecting it, Watts groaned in pain. The syringe was not small, and the yellow serum burned where it went in. “Excellent,” he whispered, following the small amount of color through his skin as it seeped in. “I will have to watch you tonight. I don’t want to paralyze your lungs. Just your leg, I can’t have it moving when I’m playing with it.” Swabbing more of his leg, Watts realized that he was going to cut into the entire section where the Jump Dancer had bit.

“Quickest place,” he muttered, readjusting the straps. If the paralyzing serum didn’t completely work, he still needed the physical restraints. Sharp scalpel, steady hand covered with gloves, Gillies quickly cut into the skin. Watts screamed, trying to move away from the pain instinctively. His upper body, arms, and the left leg twitched. His right leg did not, a fact that pleased the man. Although the rest of the movement did hamper him a small bit as it still moved when the thigh moved. “Would you stop?”

He ignored struggling for a few more seconds. There was only a little bit of muscle and fat that he was carefully moving and tearing off before he got annoyed and used another strap. This time across the young man’s neck. When air started being cut off, he dropped back on the table with much whimpering. Gillies enjoyed that.

Once he got down to the bone, he finally managed to see the raised growth needed to cover the bite marks. “Incredible. Your body went over quite a bit to make sure that the breakage wouldn’t happen again. Read about it in a few books, but the people rarely donate their bodies for science anymore, and medical practitioners rarely look anymore. Much less record with photographs. I wish people would think about the science needs.” He ran his fingers over it. The feel was incredible. He did really wish that he could have seen these on people that had gone into the Light. Or the Dark, which ever way they lived their lives. He just wanted to see under their skins.

Finished with this curiosity over the leg, at least, he removed his fingers and quickly stitched up the wound. “I believe I’m going to have to think about how much blood comes out when doing this. Robert wasn’t a fan of this. He left me when I was expelled. I mean, he joined me for some of it. Then, got cold feet. He’s working for his Daddy’s company. What a loser. I can’t believe I liked him. But, I’m going to need someone to act as my nurse and help.”

Watts, who was incredibly tired from the amount of blood he lost, didn’t like the sound of that. Who in their right mind would help James Gillies torture him? *Someone from Duvos. Like the woman that whipped me.* The terror from that faded, adrenaline wearing off. There was more prodding of his leg, which he groaned and tried to move away from. There was a tiny bit. The paralyzing serum stopped him from moving, not feeling pain. “And the serum is already wearing off quickly,” he frowned. “You haven’t even been here a couple of years and you’re starting to acquire the Portian healing that I’ve heard about. It made my testing horrid when I dosed the citizens the first time I was here. You were much worse when my Dancers bit you. I thought I was going to kill you. The standard treatment just prolonged what should have happened before Julia figured out the filter.”

Cleaning up, he wet a few gauze pads before cleaning up blood on his skin before covering the wounds. “I’m going to have to use you to strengthen my work. And find some way of working on your arm next. Either I train Li-Pon or I’m going to need a robot.” Looking down at him, there was an internal debate over whether or not he should leave his victim on the table. Cleaning blood off was easier when it was wet. “The serum isn’t going to your chest. Li-Pon can carry you to the cell and let you rest.”

Watts was shifting in and out of consciousness. He didn’t even attempt to fight when the straps were removed and the gag was taken out. Something strange showed up when Gillies tapped a button and a bell rang out. A human with a mask covering half their face. The clothes were odd. “If you wouldn’t mind, please take him back to the cell. I need to clean up.” He flinched, but that didn’t stop Li-Pon from picking him up and carrying him back through the hallways.

James Gillies had a few shortcuts in getting Llewellyn healthier faster. Nothing he experienced with Doctor Ogden. Part of the trials he had planned were health tonics and serums. Things he designed to replenish blood faster, heal the skin quicker. They were nasty, leaving aftertastes for hours. He had to resist urges to puke over some of them. He did once and was hit for it. Wasn’t his fault, his body was rejecting it as soon as he drank it. The man had to give him a needle in his thigh when he couldn’t breathe. At least he didn’t get that one again. Something about an allergic reaction?

Four days after, he came back into his cell with a gun. “We’re going to do this again,” he said, “It’s going to be your arm this time. Shirt off, otherwise I will have to cut it.” He motioned with his gun with the afterthought. “And blood. It’ll be disgusting with what I plan on doing.”

After a minute of mental steadying, he pulled his shirt off and walked over to the door. The hand on his shoulder led to an instinctive jump, but it must not have been noted as he was pushed back down to the room again. The person Watts figured was Li-Pon was standing beside the table. He wasn’t dragged on this time, instead pushed with the gun and motioned. Strapped down, the one around his throat was tighter than last time to even stop the idea of struggling. His right arm was pulled out and bound to a board strutting out from the side.

The clipboard was up and notes were taken immediately. It went quicker than last time. “Let’s photograph the area and get some lovely pictures of what my Dancers did.” The heavy blanket was thrown over him again, now with it not covering his arm, and the strange contraption was brought out. This time, he heard electrical whirling from the device, and something else after the shutter clicked.

Again, he saw the strange pictures that came from it. This time, he could see more. *Is that my arm?* Watts thought that the picture was of his arm bone, which he didn’t believe possible. Although, there were medical instruments that they hadn’t been able to get information on from the Corrupt Ages. One was something that supposedly saw through skin and muscle.

If Gillies could do that, why did he cut him open?

“I think your arm healed smoother than your leg,” he commented, “I don’t see as much bone build. How peculiar.” Placing the clipboard off to the side, he wiped down an area of his arm before injecting the same yellow serum that he did previously. While that was taking effect, Watts was gagged again during a whine from the increased burning sensation. Once he tried to move his fingers and saw that they barely twitched, Gillies picked up a scalpel while he whimpered and turned away.

He didn’t know it if was because it was his arm, or the face it was closer to his mind, but the young man felt the cuts more as the man made into him. He wanted to clench his hand into a fist, but his fingers didn’t even twitch. Watts was terrified that one single wrong move would damage his ability to build when he finally escaped.

Li-Pon must have been taught how to play nurse, as the being patted sponges and used a small tube to vacuum his blood when it dripped too much. Eventually, he got down to the bone. “Much, much cleaner healing than your leg,” he cooed, “Oh, how fascinating. What caused the difference in such healing?”

He eyed Watts’s chest with such an intensity that the young man was worried he would be getting autopsied at that moment. Instead, with his physical examination done, he sewed up the arm and made sure everything was clean again. “And since it was only your arm, you can walk back to your room.”

Blood lost not withstanding, he wobbled his way back to the room with Li-Pon following. Once inside, the door was locked and he crashed on the floor before getting to the bed. “It’s only my arm, he said.” Wincing, he crawled the last bit of space before hoisting himself up. That wore him out quickly. “Could really use a pissed off Uncle coming through right now.”

James Gillies visited.

Most of the time, he was analyzing what he got from Llewellyn. Blood samples, those strange pictures, his medical chart that he copied a few times. The food was delivered and set with the gun pointing at him as a warning. When he didn’t take him, it was to talk. Or well, drawn out interrogations about what symptoms he experienced, the aftereffects, how William was doing, if there was talks of a wedding between him and Julia yet, if Pendrick figured out his subconscious wants and desires.

He wasn’t sure about answering the stuff about William and James. It was creepy.

When his arm completely healed, the fear in him grew. First was his leg. Then, it was his arm. The last thing for Gillies to cut and examine was his chest. He didn’t see a way for the man to cut him open and explore his ribcage and keep him alive.

Hearing the door opened, he wondered if today would be that day. Looking over, Li-Pon was standing there before laying something down and closing the door again. It was not food. Whatever it was was staring at him, curled up on the floor. “D-desert hopper,” he muttered. That was one of the animals that had been modified for heavier venom. It was over there and he was on the bed, so that shouldn’t be an issue at the moment.

Then, the thing started bouncing over to him. He didn’t move, figured that it wouldn’t make that much of a difference on where he would go. The creature was likely going to chase after him. Not moving would make it less likely it might ignore him, hopefully. Nope, it hopped onto the bed. He had to cut off a whimper and his flinching when it landed by his left side. His expectation of bites until losing consciousness did not match up to what the hopper actually did. Llewellyn watched as it slithered over his chest and legs to curl up on him.

No attacking. Which was a surprise.

*“Desert hoppers are the descendants of an animal known as a snake,”* a disembodied voiced lectured. Gillies had a speaker in his room as well. He hated that. *“They’re cold blooded, which is why you won’t find the outside of the desert without some sort of containment and a heating lamp. Likely the reason why that one didn’t bite you the way I wanted it to. You’re warm.”* There was a hard sigh. *“I wanted him to bite you.”*

*I figured that.* He was trying not to react to the information. The hopper was settling down. He made the mistake of looking down to see what it was not asleep. Yellow eyes started directly back at him. “That was a mistake,” he muttered. Now he couldn’t stop looking.

The door opened again and Li-Pon came through. Without worry, the person picked up the desert hopper. The creature turned and hissed at being separated from its heating source. They merely walked out while letting something else in.

Brighter than its outdoor cousins, the flurpee immediately sought its target. Ice pelted Watts before he could even move. Wincing in pain, he made the decision to flip his bed to the side. The frame and mattress were poor shields. The force of the breath coming out was much harder than he thought was possible. The air was getting chilled fast.

*“Excellent.”*

He heard the patter of its footsteps trying to get closer. He saw the thing jumping to try and get at him. Sometimes, he felt ice pelt him a small bit. There wasn’t anything to use as a weapon. The bed wasn’t breakable. He tried.

His shield was yanked out of his hand, and the flurpee blasted him full on. Gasping for breath, the only thing he thought of was to kick. The creature squeaked when it bounced back. Shaking its head, it came back at him. Forcing himself up, he backed away and tried to stay out of range of its attack. With pain from the cold, Watts was slow moving. Rolling away from the blast of the ice breath made things worse.

The next time the creature got close enough, he took a chance and punched it along the side. It whined in pain and backed up, but came back over and slapped him a few times. It wouldn’t have hurt as much if he wasn’t suffering from freezer burn.

He barely noticed Li-Pon picking up the creature and carrying it out. The hands that started poking and prodding him after that he did. Gillies’s curiosity showed all over his face as he turned the new wounds around to see how much damage was actually done. “A good amount of burn,” he muttered, pushing in on one of the areas and earning a groan. Not to mention struggling from Watts to remove his limbs and curl in on himself. A squeeze on a painful area stopped it, temporarily. “Not as much as I was assuming, but clothing and the fact you defended yourself instead of taking the full onslaught shouldn’t be surprising. Strapping you to a wooden stand and unable to cover yourself would give me more information over the power of their breath.” Watts had a disturbing flash over how he was planning on his next experiment. When there wasn’t resistance, he pulled himself away and curled up against the wall.

Gillies merely walked out the door and locked it, muttering about what he could do later. Llewellyn gripped his legs tighter to stop his shaking.

When he was led out of the room again, Watts realized it was going to be for the last time. There was nothing he could try to stop it. Both Gillies and Li-Pon held weapons to make him walk ahead. The table was ready, and he had to be pushed to get on it. Strapped again, with his chest the main feature, something was placed over his mouth and nose. That was new.

“Once Pennie wakes up, the operation will begin,” he said, checking his tools.

Pennie? *They brought James here?* Shocked and terrified, he twisted around and found a chair occupied by one unconscious James Pendrick. “No,” he cried, fighting against the restraints. “No, no, don’t.”

“Quiet.”

“Don’t make him watch,” Llewellyn pleaded.

Gillies looked down at him with a cursed smile on his lips. “Aww, how quaint.” He patted his head before gripping some of the hair and pulling on it. “Pennie and William have been too happy lately. It’s time to install some fear and hopelessness back into them. Not everything has a good ending.” Walking over, he realized the older man was still unconscious.

He didn’t want to wait.

Smacking him, he smirked when Pendrick started groaning. “Wakey-wakey, Pennie,” he mocked.

“Fuck off, Gillies. Your manners haven’t gotten any better,” the man grumbled, immediately struggling with the restraints keeping him to the chair. During his movement, he managed to catch a glimpse of what he wanted to see. “Llewellyn!”

“James!”

The man tried to shout again before Gillies gagged him. “Now that the heartwarming moment is over, I want to start on what will be the crème of what I’ve been wanted to see.” Li-Pon turned the knob of some sort of tank filled with gas. Llewellyn didn’t know what was happening when he started breathing in whatever was coming in from the thing on his face. After a minute, his panic didn’t matter much as he slipped into unconsciousness.

“What my Dancers did to his chest.” He patted on Pendrick’s shoulder in mockery. “Too much interference, and I will kill him. Accidently or not, it will be unclear.” He glared at the villain, but realized getting the two of them out would be impossible if Gillies was planning on operating on Llewellyn.

Li-Pon was there with the new blood suction machine when he started his cutting. Instead of a nice single line that would have just gotten him in the area he needed, he decided on a y incision. It was something that he found out about from medical autopsy books. It would be a signal if Julia had to work on him on her tables.

Peeling back skin and muscle was much harder than it had been in the leg and arm. He was remembering the books that he read on the procedures to get to organs that needed operations. They understated what he would need to do. Gillies had to be careful about it. He was still thinking about using the boy much later. Not to the point of stopping himself in this experiment, but not carelessly enough to kill him out of spite.

When he finally removed enough to see the teeth marks on the ribs, he gasped. “Oh, this is even better than the ones on the leg.” He felt the edges made under his fingertips. “Still healing, and there’s a good amount of jagged edge.” It had been months since he had been attacked. He should have been healed by now. Unless the attack to his ribs had been worse. Or something else had happened in combination with the enhanced venom that hadn’t with the arm and leg. Perhaps since one couldn’t immobilize ribs as they could with the appendages and the consistant movement with the diaphram and his lungs have caused healing to be slower. “Oh, how interesting it would be to make it permanent. A testament to their abilities.” A low growling was heard from the chair. “Quiet, Pendrick.”

“You take that bloody scalpel and step away from my nephew, Gillies,” a voice commanded. Captain Brackenreid stepped out from the entryway of the room, with two of his team standing behind him. All three had weapons raised, but only Brackenreid was carrying a gun. “Or I’m gonna make sure you disappear on the way to the Knight’s Prison.”

He chuckled, looking at his intruders. “What are you going to do about that, Captain? I could always slice through one of his artieries now and leave him to die.”

While he was turned toward the Corps members, one of his tools embedded into his arm. The scalpel dropped, but not before being caught by Li-Pon. Staring in confusion, as they were the only one close enough, the variant took off their mask and showed an angry William Murdoch had actually been under there. “Oh, how did I miss that?”

George and Torva took the man and dragged him away, cuffing him. Murdoch ignored him while quickly slicing through the bonds holding James down. “Hart was one of the ones you brought, correct?”

The woman herself answered, striding in, “Made sure of it.” She quickly looked over Watts. The chest being open, the skin and muscles pulled back and still exposing the ribs, made her sick. “The best I can do is sew him up and stop the bleeding to get him back to the Clinic. I was trained for smaller injuries.”

James came over and looked at the machine that was being used to suck up the blood. “William, is this thing clean enough?” he demanded.

“I cleaned it before suiting up to replace whomever Gillies had for help.”

He nodded. “If there’s a way to manually warm up the blood, we can put it back into Llewellyn to help stabilze him for transport.” The man looked to the medic. “What else do we need to do?”

#murdoch mysteries #whumpay 2024 #Prompt: strapped to an operating table #Prompt: paralytic drug #Prompt: made a lab rat #Prompt: vivisection #i probably didn't do this right #but i still wrote #and i have another au going on with the next two prompts

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neurotonic · 2 months

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I was gonna make this joke earlier but you recent fic... there's actually a radio in the background playing "An Evening With Roxana" the whole time /j

@enhanced-operatives-division

HELPPPP EEVEN BEFORE prism decides to throw her whole plan out the window it's already playing.. Smooth jazz tunes to chill and get experimented on <3

On that note, it took me an embarrassingly long while to find the soundtracks for these games.. I think i just found out a few weeks ago and im like WHAT.... i love listening to an evening with roxana it's one of my favs so far

#gene answers #enhanced-operatives-division #roxana prism #the motifs are really good too..#Satl soundtrack jumpscared me with handlers voice i was like HEY MAN? YOUR EHERE?#date night with the doctorrrr 'strapped on the examination table'

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redroom-rainbowguts · 10 months

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How would grey react if my OC kidnapped him?

@malicousmalcontent

(Totally my art btw)

He'd be panicked, of course. He's not sure if he was picked randomly or if he was specifically targeted. Grey works hard at hiding his "hobby," so when he finds out his kidnapping was a deliberate choice, he's actually a bit ashamed that he messed up. What could he have done better? Did he dispose of someonething wrong?

This lasts all of 5 seconds though, as once he learns Mal picked him because he saw somewhat of a kindred spirit, an enthusiast for medical knowledge at any cost, he'd actually be kinda honored. Grey feels so special knowing Mal has deemed him of all people worthy of research. He wants to know more!

"Why did you pick me? What do you plan to do to me? Can I watch? How long have you been doing this? What got you started?" Grey's ravenous appetite for knowledge is quickly going to trump his initial fear. Besides, he can't be mad or even upset in the slightest since he also kidnaps research subjects.

It helps that the doctor holding him hostage is rather easy on the eyes too :} If Mal keeps sweet talking Grey he'll be putty in his gloved hands.

#as if you didn't already write the two of them having gay sex #the gay sex being surgery of course #the real answer is that grey is making out with malcolm #while the two of them listen to the screams of a victim strapped to the operating table #ask #malicousmalcontent #grey.musing

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nerdpoe · 5 months

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The Justice League has been working to dismantle the GIW for awhile, and finally found enough evidence to get them shut down.

Superman is picked to be involved with the dismantling of the base, and equipped with some sort of strange watch bought from a family-run ghost hunting business in Illinois. Apparently, the thing prevents him from being possessed.

He has, of course, ordered fifteen of the things.

Being possessed and used to hurt his friends and family has and always will be one of his worst fears.

As they circle the base, hidden and in groups, waiting for Cyborg to bypass security-Cyborg pauses.

They have someone.

A small-town hero, Phantom. They have him strapped to an operating table, and they're literally about to start carving into him.

Superman sees red.

Inside the base, Danny's waiting for the GIW thugs to start cutting into his duplicate so he can record it and get evidence to the Justice League, so that they know these guys are really fucked up.

He isn't expecting the ceiling to suddenly go missing.

He really isn't expecting to see a spectacularly pissed off Superman start towards the GIW agents while Martian Manhunter (calm down fenton don't be a nerd don't geek out omgomgomgomggggg) himself frees the duplicate.

Then Martian Manhunter pauses.

Looks at Danny.

Danny wills himself onto the visible spectrum and allows the duplicate to dissipate.

Unfortunately, in his effort to not sound starstruck, he just sounds pissed.

"Oh, so now you show up? In the middle of my sting operation?"

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #phanfic #story prompt #great news this outburst calms down clark #because “MY sting operation” was not something he was expecting to hear #j'onn on the other hand #he is not calming down #because while he is eternally grateful that a child does not have to know what it is to be pinned down #and experimented on #he can still read the GIW agents minds #and everything they were planning to do #so yea #j'onn is still very VERY pissed

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disillusioneddanny · 8 months

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Welcome to the Family DPXDC

And yes, he was thankful for that space, honestly, he needed it more than he could even explain. Every time he closed his eyes he saw his parents strapping him down to the operating table. To his sister finding him when she came back for spring break three months later and trying to rip Jack away from Danny’s broken body, only for her to be thrown back. They said that she had hit her head on in just the right spot on the corner of the table. That her death had been painless. Danny had waited, hoping to see his sister come back as a ghost but she never did.

The anger had welled up inside of him, though, enough for him to break out of his bindings and run to Sam’s house for help. From there it had been quick. The Fentons had no proof that Danny was a ghost, Jazz was dead in their lab and Danny had a large vivesection wound held together by pins and needles.

From there it had gone by fast. Bruce Wayne had heard his story and opened his doors to him, an offer that Danny was quick to accept considering his only other option was Vlad and that was a major no for him. Danny had gotten stitched up rather quickly and the Fentons had been taken to trial where they had both been found incompetent by the courts and were sent to some prison for the mentally insane in the midwest. Thank the Ancients it wasn’t Arkham.

But things were starting to settle now. Danny was healed up. They had finally held a funeral for Jazz. And he was set to start school at Gotham Academy with his new little brother, Damian. Things were finally starting to settle.

Things were starting to settle and Danny was finally able to really look at his new family and notice the strange things about them. Honestly, coming from a weird family himself, he was more able to spot the bullshit from others. The first he had noticed was Damian. Apparently he hadn’t ocme to live with the Waynes until he was ten and Bruce had discovered he had a biiological son he had never known about.

Damian was fourteen now and he wasn’t normal, if Danny was going to be honest. Danny knew that the teenager had at least four weapons on him at all times. He had thrown a knife at Danny’s head one of his first nights here when Danny had made a joke that the kid didn’t like. He also struggled to understand common cues and comments, but not in a neurodivergent way. In a way that he had genuinely grown up without ever hearing about those things and it had Danny curious.

The others were strange too. Tim seemed like he had never slept, like he barely operated at all. Duke always looked at Danny like he had seen a ghost and tended to keep his distance more than their other siblings did. Cass looked at him the same way some of Danny’s rogues did, like she was watching his every single move. Jason reeked of death every time Danny saw him. The souls that latched onto him showed that he had taken quite a few lives. And not only that, but everyone in this family smelled and felt like they had all died and come back. He had never met a family so liminal outside of Amity Park.

Even Dick, the most normal of the siblings was liminal. It was throwing Danny for a loop because no one else in Gotham seemed to feel this way. So what were they hiding? Was this why they wanted Danny to join their family? Because like called to like and they knew Danny was something different?

Or was Bruce telling the truth when he had said that he had seen a teenage boy lose everything in a day and decided he couldn’t not help out?

It had been two months now and if he was going to be really honest, Danny was starting to grow bored. No more ghost fights, no more running from the Fentons, hell Bruce had even decided that he was going to go after the GIW and the Anti-Ecto Acts because even though he didn’t know Danny was actually a ghost, he found the acts ghastly and problematic. Danny nearly hugged him when he had said so. But the more bored he got, the more curious he seemed to get as well, he needed to know what was going on with this family.

“It’s not like they would know if I decided to take a look around. I live here,” he murmured to himself, staring at the fire crackling within the fireplace, still chewing on his thumbnail. “All I’m doing is seeing what kind of fruit loop my new dad is. All billionaires hide something and Bruce is definitely hiding something,” he reasoned to himself.

The halfa shook his head, the curiosity was going to drive him absolutely insane if he didn’t go and snoop. He stood from where he laid curled up on the couch and trekked back up to his bedroom. A room that was literally through times the size of his old bedroom.

It was still hard to believe that this was his life now. He carefully locked his bedroom door and felt the familiar rings of light wash over him before he transformed into his ghost form. The sixteen year old smiled at the familiar feel of intangibility wash over him and he slowly sunk through the floor, staying invisible as he went through each room of the house that was not a bedroom, looking through each one carefully to see if anything jumped out at him.

Then he made it to Bruce’s office just as Bruce himself stepped out of a door hidden behind an old grandfather clock and that’s when Danny knew he had caught him. Of course this was too good to be true! Bruce was far too perfect to not have something hidden deep inside.

He flew through the wall and found himself in an elevator and frowned before continuing down, down, down until he found himself in a large cave underneath the cave.

“Holy shit Batman,” he whispered as he started to fly around the stalacites, taking in the Batcomputer, the weird prizes the different vigilantes had one in their countless rogue fights. His eyes widened as he found Tim typing furiously at the Batcomputer, bags deep under his eyes and Danny took a look at what he was working on and held back a gasp.

When Bruce had said he was going to get rid of the GIW and the Anti-Ecto Acts he hadn’t really thought too much of it. It was Bruce Wayne, the playboy extraordinare who cared about all social causes that came across his desk.

But to know that the Bats were investigating it? With the Justice League? Danny’s mind was blown. He watched as Tim fought through the firewalls that Danny, Tucker, and Technus had set up to keep Amity Park a secret from the rest of the world and glanced down at his new older brother before back up at the screen and let out a sigh.

He could at least make their job easier.

He flew into the computer and started to break through each of the firewalls that they had put in place one by one before Tucker and Technus zoomed in on him.

Tucker had become just liminal enough to learn how to go into technology. He gave Danny a disapproving look as Technus stared at all the hard work they had done be ruined by Danny.

“What are you doing in here?” Tucker demanded, his eyes bright green as he stared Danny down.

“Red Robin is trying to get rid of the acts,” Danny said with a small smile. “Let him learn everything he can. I trust the Bats.”

Tucker and Technus scowled.

“Fine, Ghost Boy. Now get out of our territory before you destroy it even more,” Technus said, glaring at Danny over his sunglasses. Danny just grinned and flew out of the computer once more to find Tim dialing a number on his cellphone furiously.

“Babs! I finally got in! I don’t know what happened but all of the firewalls fell and Jesus Christ it’s worse than I thought. The Fentons recorded their experiments on Danny,” he said and Danny shuddered as he looked at the scream, hearing his screams fall on deaf ears. He had Tucker hide all of the video tapes as soon as he could to make sure that no one would see proof that Danny was more than just a human. But if they were going to get rid of the Anti-Ecto Acts then they needed all the proof that they could get that ghosts were sentient creatures.

He flew out of the Batcave quickly and made it back to his room where he turned back into his human form. Now he needed to decide. Did he tell the Waynes that he knew their secret? Or did he leave it alone?

He pursed his lips and fell back onto his bed as he fell into thought about it. Once Tim got through all of the videos, he was going to know that Danny was different, that he wasn’t just a normal human boy. Especially when he would get to the part where they cut Danny’s arm off and it grew back just a few days later.

Right now the ball was in his court, though. He knew that the bats were going to know that he was different, but he didn’t know if they were going to say anything about it. He could play with this. He grinned to himself.

He could have some fun with this.

…

“Danny! Dinner’s ready!” Duke called through his door and Danny grinned and headed out, already having come up with a plan for how he’s going to fuck with the bats.

He wanted to see how far he could push them until they admitted that they knew his secret and and that they were the bats. He wondered how long his new family could hold out before giving in and saying something.

So with that, Danny opened the door and grinned at Duke, who he now realized was the day time hero signal and explained why he not only kept his distance but looked at Danny like he had a second head most of the time. Now that he thought about it, Duke probably could see his true form and wouldn’t that be fun to mess with.

While Phantom was technically tucked away in Danny’s core, he was visible for those who could see beyond the veil. Duke was someone who could see beyond that veil and if Danny focused just enough he could alter his ghost form without even being in that form.

“Hey, thanks for grabbing me,” Danny said, imagining Phantom with ecto dripping from his eye sockets, his fangs grew longer and longer and his eyes turned pitch black. Phantom was looking like he came straight from a nightmare from what Danny could see in his mind’s eye and he smiled as Duke cringed away from him slightly.

“Of course,” he stammered out nervously. “Are you doing okay?”

Danny grinned, perking up slightly. “Yeah, I’m doing great actually. I’m really excited for school tomorrow. Why do you ask?”

Duke just shook his head and shuddered lightly. “No reason.”

The two continued down to the dinner table and took their seats. Tim trudged in just a few minutes later and his eyes immediately fell onto Danny’s form. His eye twitched slightly as they raced up and down Danny’s body, taking in all of Danny’s limbs and noting that his facial features were all there.

“Are you okay, Tim?” Danny asked with a frown, his lips twisting up slightly.

Tim just stared at him warily and nodded once. “I am, are you? Doing okay, that is?” He asked, nerves apparent in his voice.

Danny just smiled and tilted his head to the side. “Yeah, as far as I can tell I’m okay. It’s funny, Duke was worried about my wellbeing too. It’s really nice, though. I wish I had someone asking if I was okay when my parents had removed my eyes during one of their sessions with me,” he said just as Alfred set a plate before him, the porcelain clattering against the table as he tried to recover from shock.

“You mean like, blindfolded you, right?” Dick asked hesitantly, looking up from his own plate of food and Danny just grinned and shook his head.

“Nope,” he said, popping the P. “I’m pretty sure my da-Jack used a melon baller to remove them, it was very painful and weird experience,” he said with a slight shudder. It was the frist time he had mentioned out loud some of the trauma he had experienced at the hands of the Fentons. And if he was being honest, it felt rather cathartic for him to actually talk about the torutre he had endured. Sure, judging from the horrified expressions of his new family members, it might not be hte most comfortable conversation but for him, it was nice to just say it, out loud.

His parents had tortured him. Had ripped him apart molecule by molecule and his body just forced him to regenerate, the electric ectoplasm that brought him back that fateful day in the portal continued to live inside of him, continued to bring him back from death over and over. It had made him realize that there’s a good chance that he was immortal. That his human half may never actually die.

And that was a terrifying thought.

Danny just happily continued eating his dinner, ignoring the horrified stares all around him. Oh yeah, this was going to be so much fun, he could feel it in his core.

….

It was a few nights later when Danny woke up to his stomach growling at like three in the morning. And of course, that mean he needed to go down to the kitchens and rifle through the refrigerator to find something to eat.

In all honesty, he had a major hankering for some fruit loops. Which led to him digging through the pantry that Alfred kept stocked up on all of Dick’s favorite cereals since he was the one who primarily ate them. He let his eyes glow in the dark as he searched, too lazy to turn on the lights and not particularly wanting to have the light ruin his post sleep glow. He dug around until finally find the box of sugary, fruity goodness and silently cheered to himself. Now he just needed to get some milk and a bowl and he would be a very happy ghost.

Danny allowed the box to float to the kitchen counter before he skipped towards the fridge and hummed. Did he want oatmilk, almond milk, whole milk, ancients there were so many options for milk.

He let out a hiss as the lights flickered on in the kitchen and slowly allowed his head to spin around on his neck to glare at whomever was evil enough to turn on the lights in the middle of the night. An ear piercing scream shook through the manor as Dick scrambled away from Danny and oh what a sight Danny was to see. His hair was bird’s nest on his head, his eyes were glowing bright green and he had twisted his head around his neck one hundred sixty degrees and let out an inhuman hiss.

Dick slammed his back against the wall as Danny allowed his eyes to turn blue once again and his head spun back around to normal just as Bruce and Tim came running into the room.

“What is it?” Danny asked innocently, cocking his head to the side, blinking his eyes owlishly at Dick. The poor vigilante was white as a sheet as he stared at Danny in horror. Bruce looked between his sons curiously.

“Three am cereal?” He asked, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he smiled at Danny. “I think I may make myself a bowl as well. How about you, Dick? Tim?”

“I-I think I’m going to go home to Bludhaven,” Dick stammered out, unable to look at Danny.

“Oh, well I hope you get home safe. Text me when you get home so I know you made it safely,” Bruce said cluelessly as he walked over to start making his own bowl of cereal. Tim gave Danny a wary look before he shook his head.

“I’m heading back to bed,” Tim muttered and Danny smiled to himself as he poured himself a large bowl of cereal.

“How are you doing, Chum? Are you getting settled?” Bruce asked, looking Danny over for a moment. Danny nodded and took a bite.

“You know that I know that you know,” he said simply as he chewed his cereal.

“I do,” Bruce said simply. “It’s pretty entertaining to watch the others.”

Danny swallowed his bite of cereal and grinned. “Glad you think so because this is the most fun I’ve had since you adopted me.”

“It will be good training for the others,” Bruce said as he poured himself a bowl of–

“You have your own brand of cereal!?” Danny exclaimed, looking at the cereal called Batman Crunch.

Bruce smiled. “Unfortunately, I don’t get any of the royalties for it. But it’s cookies and cream flavored,” he said before looking at the milk that Danny had pulled out, and poured some into his bowl. “Oatmilk, good choice.”

“I like the flavor,” he said with a shrug.

“Just so you know, if you ever want to join the nightlife, you’re welcome to it. But from what I understand, you never wanted it in the first place,” he said and Danny nodded his head.

“Too much work. For now, I just want to focus on school. Maybe when I graduate high school I’ll join you guys. But for now, I just want to focus on recovery and graduation. I appreciate all the space you’re giving me,” Danny said softly, stirring his spoon around in his bowl. Bruce just smiled and leaned his arms against the counter as he took a bite of his cereal.

“Of course. And when you’re ready to talk about it, without trying to scare your siblings, we can talk about it,” he said.

“You’re not mad?” Danny asked, glancing up at the older man. “That I didn’t tell you about me being, being dead? Or that I was a hero or how bad the Fentons,” he stopped and shuddered slightly. He couldn’t say the words out loud. It was one thing to joke about them removing body parts, it was easy to call them sessions. But to say out loud how badly he had been tortured? He couldn’t do it.

“Of course I’m not mad, Honey, you went through a very rough and traumatic time. Take all the time you need and we’ll be here for you as you heal and recover. And if any of your brothers or sister give you a hard time, I’ll tell them I was in on it.”

“How’d you know about me?” Danny asked before he took a bite of his fruitloops.

“Phantom disappeared the same time Danny Fenton allegedly ran away. Not to mention just taking one look at Phantom you can see the resemblance.”

“Phantom has blue skin!” Danny argued.

“And the exact same facial structure, Phantom just has a more prominent lichtenburg scar that you also have, just not nearly as noticeable.”

Danny hummed. “Guess they don’t call you the world’s greatest detective for nothin’,” he muttered before he picked up his bowl and started to drink the milk.

Bruce just chuckled and patted Danny’s back once he finished. “Get some sleep, Kiddo,” he said softly. Danny gave him a salute, a milk mustache on his face as he floated up in the air and through the ceilings to get back to his room.

…

Danny was bored again. He found himself haunting the manor late in the evening. Most of the bats were prepping for their night out on patrol. They were all under the impression that Danny was upstairs doing homework. He soon turned invisible and made his way into the Batcave where he found his siblings gathered around the Batcomputer watching one of the videos of Danny being tortured.

“Danny’s not fully human,” Tim stressed. “I’ve watched his parents remove his limbs and they just grow back in a few hours. Like good as new, no scar or anything! He wasn’t kidding when he said they removed his eyes!” He exclaimed.

Jason let out a hum. “It’s possible that the Fentons did it to him,” he reasoned. “Like their experiments turned him into a meta that let him regenerate.”

“How does that explain the fact that he was able to twist his head a hundred and sixty degrees?” Dick asked, shuddering slightly. “Or the way his eyes glow Lazarus green?”

“Or the monster that’s constantly floating behind him,” Duke whispered, looking like he had seen absolute horrors. Danny held back a snort, he still hadn’t even let Duke see his full eldritch horror form. It had been child’s play so far.

“He died in those experiments,” Dick said softly. “You can see him flatlining multiple times. Being killed and brought back so many times probably fucked up his body a lot. It probably did a lot to him.”

Danny hummed, that was a good theory. Wrong but made sense where they were coming from.

Bruce walked forward in his Batman suit and looked at Danny’s siblings. “Regardless of what you think is wrong with Danny, he’s our family and maybe one day he will feel comfortable telling us what happened to him. And if he doesn’t, that’s fine too. But until then, give him space and quit trying to investigate him. We’re trying to get rid of the anti-ecto acts, not investigate Danny,” he said seriously.

Danny smiled to himself and flew back up to his bedroom.

…

Jason sucked in a breath when he saw Danny asleep on the couch. He didn’t know why he was nervous. Sure, there was something slightly unsettling about Danny but he wasn’t a bad guy. The kid was insanely sweet and funny. He handled his trauma the same way Jason did, with constant jokes about his vivisection the same way Jason joked about his death.

But between the stories from Dick, Tim, and, Duke and watching the videos of what the Fentons had done to his newest littler brother, something about Danny just unnerved him. But Bruce had asked him to wake Danny up so that he can come down for dinner. It was simple, he just had to wake him up. What was the worst that could happen?

He padded over to Danny’s sleeping form and alost immediately realized something majorly wrong with the image in front of him.

Danny wasn’t breathing.

Jason rushed forward, shouting out for help, help from anyone really. He knelt beside Danny’s prone form and pressed his fingers to the pulse point on Danny’s wrist and frowned when he didn’t feel anything. He cursed before moving to start doing chest compressions, desperate to get him to open his eyes and breathe.

Dick and Bruce skidded into the room and ran over just as Danny sucked in a deep breath and opened his eyes.

“What are you doing!? Ow!” Danny shouted, slapping Jason’s hands away from him. “I think you broke my fucking rib,” he whined, rubbing at his side.

“What happened?” Bruce asked, looking between them concerned.

“He wasn’t breathing! He didn’t have a pulse!” Jason spluttered out, pointing at Danny who was frowning and pulling up his shirt to see if he was bruising yet or not. Beside Bruce, Dick let out a squeak, taking in the vivisection scar that still marred Danny’s chest. For some reason, all of Danny’s wounds from getting his body parts removed had healed just fine but the scar from being cut open over and over again stayed with him forever.

Bruce had given him scar cream to see if it would help but Danny had told him it would do nothing to help him.

“Oh yeah, it’s gnarly,” Danny said offhandedly. “The joys of having mad scientists for parents,” he said and sucked his teeth before he dropped his tshirt. “It’ll heal in like thirty minutes. Thanks for trying to save me I guess, but don’t stress, my heart just does that.”

“I thought you were dead!” Jason shouted, running a hand through his hair, utterly distraught.

Danny laughed and stood up, stretching as he did, his back popping a few times with the stretch. “Because I am,” he said simply.

…

Damian watched as his brother walked down the hall, texting on his phone as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He was not even bothering to raise his head to watch where he was going as he walked and Damian smirked to himself.

The idiot teenager was about to run face first into the wall and it would serve him right to break his nose for not paying attention to his surroundings. His smirk turned into a look of dismay, though, as Daniel walked straight through the wall without ever looking up.

There was something strange going on with his newest big brother and Damian was going to get to the bottom of it. It was clear that his siblings were not unfounded in their theories that Daniel was something other.

…

Danny grinned as he walked in on his final victim. He had managed to scare each of his siblings so far with his shenanigans and now he was finally going to get Cass. He had been trying to think of ways to throw her off kilter for a while now, but he had finally come to the perfect idea.

His family were gathered in the family room preparing to watch a movie together. Cass was curled up on the couch beside her girlfriend, the two talking quietly to one another. No one had noticed Danny walk in yet, which was rather typical.

He was lighter on his feet than any bat could ever dream. Even in his human form he had a sense of weightlessness to him that could only be attributed to his ghost form. Something that Danny had thought was interesting and also insanely thankful for considering it made it so much easier for him to sneak around when he was still living with the Fentons.

Danny creeped up behind Cass and Steph, a wide smile slowly growing on his face as he leaned down. “Mind if I sit with you two?” he asked, taking joy in the way both girls jumped in surprise, the rest of the family reacting similarly before giving Cass a shocked look of their own.

She turned to stare wide eyed at Danny and silently nodded once, unable to say a word.

“Sweet,” he said before hopping over the back of the couch and settling into the seat beside his sister. He reached over and grabbed a handful of popcorn from Tim’s bowl and looked at the large screen. “What are we watching?”

…

Danny took his seat at the dining room table for dinner a few nights later and looked around at his siblings. Each one looked to be on edge, sending Danny worried, concerned looks every now and then. Danny had upped the hauntings in the manor, feeling more and more comfortable with changing to his ghost form and giving in to his ghostly behaviors. He had never really been able to do it in Amity, too much of a risk to haunt the house when his family hd weapons to destroy him at every corner.

But in Wayne Manor? He was free to roam the halls, to stare at dark shadows and just do what ghosts were meant to do. Haunt the manor. And the fact that his siblings would catch him every so often and get the life scared out of them was honestly just a nice bonus.

His core had never felt so content in his life. He was finally getting to give in to all of his ghostly behavior and now it was time to make it known to the others that he knew.

“You know,” Danny stated, taking a bite of his oatmeal. “I wasn’t expecting you all to be so chill about the whole dead thing. I thought you all would be more on edge with my weirdness. But considering you all are vigilantes it makes a lot more sense now why you were okay with a dead guy moving in.”

Tim choked on his coffee, drips splattered onto the table. “I’m sorry what?”he wheezed out.

Danny sat up and grinned. “What?” He asked before he took a sip of his chocolate milk. “You’re telling me that you watched all those tapes of my parents having their fun with me and never once realized I was dead? No living human being can endure the things I did and live to tell the tale. I’m dead.”

“But you have a heartbeat, you breathe,” Dick breathed out and Danny looked over at Jason.

“Do I, though?” He asked and Jason swallowed harshly as he remembered the way Danny’s chest didn’t move, how he felt no pulse no matter how hard he checked. “I thought a family of detectives would figure it out pretty quickly.”

Bright rings of light surrounded him for a moment and he showed his ghost form. “I’m Phantom,” he said with a sharp smile. He changed back to his human form and looked over at Bruce. “Bruce had me figured out before he even adopted me. I thought you all knew as well.”

“How did you know about us?” Duke asked.

Danny hummed. “Got bored, decided to explore the manor and imagine my surprise when I found the Batcave in the basement! From there it was easy to put together and I decided well, if I’m going to be living in a family of vigilantes there was no point in me hiding who I was. If anyone was going to accept the half dead kid, it would be you guys.”

“This family just keeps getting weirder and weirder,” Dick mumbled, massaging his temples.

Bruce just smiled. “Danny, did I ever tell you that you have an alien starfish for a brother? His name is Jarro.”

I don’t plan on continuing this. Feel free to add if you want 💚💚

#dpxdc #danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dis writes #danny fenton #batman #dc x dp crossover #dis dreams #body horror cw

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vanderilnde · 3 months

Text

Unhinged battlefield surgeon reader and the extended metaphor of surgery as the most intimate form of love (with medical inaccuracies).

ghost/reader

Ghost got shot and his shredded kevlar had swallowed most of the shrapnel.

Though one bullet, thankfully, ate a way through and wedged itself in his abdomen.

He’s the only member of the task force you haven’t operated on. Always a little too tactically inclined and apt for your liking. Never with any grave injuries—just a ruddy bullet graze or a broken femur—neither of which you could get your hands on.

Surgery was the only way he would ever notice you. When Soap was in post-op, gauzed and inebriated on painkillers, Ghost reverently nodded at you in thanks. When Gaz got shot and you coordinated a walking blood bank, gingerly asking Ghost if his blood type was a match. It wasn’t, but you already knew that, because his personnel file was a parsed-over sheet branded into your brain—but he leaned down, the fleece of his balaclava grazing the husk of your ear, and asked you to repeat your question.

“Type one SGW,” someone says. A less-experienced medic, your subordinate, his first time downrange. Ashy and blanched in the face as he straps Ghost to a stretcher. “Signs of peritonitis are present.”

You’re already wearing your gloves, splitting a hand on Ghost’s chest. His breaths are irregular and short-winded under your palm, turbulent, like a second heartbeat.

You take a moment to grasp the papery flutter of his eyelashes against his mottled skin. It’s lace-like and scythe-like, disappearing under the crude shell of his macabre mask. And upon your excited fingers catching on the hem of his balaclava, the baby-faced medic stops you with a hand bent around your wrist.

“His face,” he slips an eighteen-gauge needle into Ghost’s bulging forearm. “That's not confidential?”

Irritation threatens to supersede your anticipation. You shrug his hand off of you, snarling, “I need to BVM him. Would you rather he die?”

The medic’s eyes widen. He sputters out apologies, mousy, and shuffles back. Busies himself with something else within the babel of organised chaos and medevac.

The pads of your fingers idle under the lip of Ghost’s balaclava. Slowly, you peel off his mask and feel your soul get eclipsed. He steals your breath, flips your world, and drenches you in ice-cold water. He’s beautiful in a way so specifically masculine. His face striated with lesions and gossamer-like scars, one running through his mouth and hefting up his upper lip, travelling towards his cropped hairline. Disappearing into his awkward cowlick.

Ghost’s hair is trimmed to his skull. There’s slivers of skin peeking through nicks and notches as a result of shaving himself over a ceramic sink. His breath struggles past his thin lips, puckering them. His eyes oscillate under his eyelids, his crows feet leathery and creased.

“Doctor,” another medic says, calling for your attention. “How should we proceed?”

You place an ambu bag on Ghost’s face. Your fingers on his dimpled jawbone, your other hand pumping air into his lungs. It’s electric. You’re giving him life, you’re his God, you’re swelling his lungs like a second-hand kiss too taboo to be direct. “Any exit wounds?”

Ghost gets turned onto his side and has his shirt torn through. You subsist on the heat that pools under your cheeks, sticking your thighs together. His blood congeals into the spindly hairs of his chest, thickening as it disappears below his pants. The other surgeons flit their eyes over the sinews of his back, answering, “No.”

It shouldn’t excite you. Really, it shouldn’t. But the thought of being inside Ghost—of coalescing with him, of being closer to him than anyone ever before—it excites you. For once, you’re not invisible to Ghost. For once, he’s at your mercy. On your table and bleeding out. In need of your deft hands, in need of your attention.

“I’m doing a laparotomy.”

“But–”

“That wasn’t a question.”

A scalpel is quickly dropped in your hand. You use it to dig a divot in Ghost’s skin, slicing a transverse incision that opens him up and spills him onto your hands. You cut through his cutis and off-white subcutis, slicing his abdomen wall, the fibrous sheet of tissue. Blood leaks out of him how rain dribbles down a window. Pearlescent and beady.

“Gimme suction,” you mumble. “And keep it out of my way. I’m removing the bullet.”

Off the fringes of your vision, the other surgeons exchange wary glances. Any protests they have rot on their tongue, stuck under the boot of their chief resident. A tinny, thin sound peals out in the heli, the clang of you throwing your scalpel into the kidney dish.

Gently, as if you’re holding glass, you slip your fingers into Ghost and slowly spread him open. It’s intoxicating. As if you’re splitting a mango open with your thumbs, the blood of it sluicing down your arms. Sweet and sticky. There’s a grotesque sound emanating from it—like when boots press in on a muddy ground. Ghost is all slippery and rubbery as your fingers search for a hot, eroded bullet.

“Any luck, Doctor?”

Your hands catch on gilded metal. You grasp it and pull yourself out, toss it in the kidney dish. You’re handed another instrument and start slice-wise swishes, closing him up. Sewing him back together like your own doll. His chest shudders under your fingers, rattling like wind-chimes. Your sutures are deep-seated and tight, strung out, because you don’t want to stop touching him. Because if you stop, he might unfurl again. Fall all over the place. Over the floor and over your pants and you can’t have that happen—you need Ghost full, thanking you properly for your work when he wakes up.

You’re finished, rubbing your ichor-stained gloves together. You still feel the phantom layer of your hands under Ghost’s skin.

It’s so intimate—holding him and piecing him back together. Carefully, attentively, lovingly.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #cod mw2 #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost/reader #simon ghost x you #simon riley/reader #simon writing #writing

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radiance1 · 8 months

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god the batfam thinking that Danny is one of them from an alt universe is simply gold and misunderstandings!!! But my all time favorite is probably when it’s Jason and when it’s dissection trope it’s even better so let me give you a little prompt

Danny who was runaway after being caught by the GIW and with the help of ClockWork gets him to a universe he could rest and he’s given the ring of rage and the crown but it turns into a tattoo on his neck and with the ring he’s more prone to violence to fix conflict and it matches up with Jason so when Danny gets kidnapped along with a few others and he’s shown off to the rest of the city in a live video the whole batfam is having panic attacks and shit and is on their way but Danny when the joker is monologuing he gets out quietly and gets (who would have guessed) a crowbar. He swings with all his force not caring that the Joker is not a ghost because he hurt people and the other hostages so he keeps beating him until he’s crying and he’s shaking purely because of the emotional and physical fatigue (he’s still healing) and when the batfam get there they’re met with pale blue eyes staring into them and surprisingly it’s Jason to step up and pull him away and comfort him because the pits went silent maybe and there’s something in him telling him to protect him

Anger came easy to him, after his crowning.

Easy to lose himself within its gently yet insistent lull, clouding his mind in nothing but red that made it so easy to just, let go.

But he didn't want to kill anyone, even after what they've done to him, strapping him down on a table and cutting him open, enjoying his pain and suffering and cutting flesh and examining his organs.

He just wanted to escape, he wanted closure, he wants peace and love and acceptance.

He did indeed get his escape that he wished for, but that only lead to his fall into more captivity. It was another dimension, one of capes and villains, and never in his life as he met a human so...

Disgusting.

Even when under that operation table, the ones cutting him open didn't seem to take any pleasure in the act. Simply doing what they were told and taking notes with cold efficiency.

But this, this one called the Joker. He took pleasure in hurting others, watching them suffer and squirm and cry and beg as he made jokes at their own expense.

Never had he felt the amount of rage he did then. So when he himself, was taken by the Joker, along with others he planned to air live.

He let himself fall into the safety of rage.

The Joker was cruel and cunning, but he was waiting for someone, for Batman. He used it to his advantage.

He took a crowbar and swung. Swung at his arm, his legs, every part of his body his rage clouded mind could process and kept hitting and hitting and hitting and WHY WAS THIS MAN LAUGHING!?

It only made him angrier.

He swung in his face, and the man still laughed, so he kept swinging until he wasn't.

And then, as he was slowly climbing down from that rage, he stopped, and a man- who he distantly recognized as Red Hood- approached him and gave him comfort.

Then he fell, not into rage, but the deep embrace of unconsciousness.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp crossover

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eilidh-eternal · 4 months

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Ok so like, ngl? Nasty Man™️Johnny when he's jealous got the brain worms goin. Like the worms are WORMIN. Specifically for the Ghost bit.

Ok, so what if, hear me out what if like Ghost gets off to it and sends a video of him getting off to it to reader, right? And it just...spirals into a weird thing of Soap trying to prove something to you like constantly. Like, it's a constant cycle right?

Gaz and Price are just standing there like 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️ and having a conversation of their own about the thing and Gaz just drops the "Soap and Ghost really should just fuck each other at this point." bomb.

but it's nothing like that. at least to reader, but then Gaz explains his view point and reader is just like "huh maybe a quick fuck would help."

and then Gaz & reader plot to get Ghost and Soap to just get the tension between them done and over with and it happens, but the videos? They continue to get sent back n forth bc hey, Ghost has a nice dick and its kinda hot to record videos. 🤣

I put too much thought into this at 6:45 AM. Blame the worms.

From here on out, may I be 🪱 anon?

- 🪱

Hi 🪱!

YOU’RE LIKE IN MY HEAD?!?!?!? This is exactly the dynamic I saw for all of them when I was thinking about that Nasty, Jealous Man.

Nasty Pup Johnny ft. Handler Ghost????

As overly territorial as Nasty Man™️ Johnny MacTavish is about you, Ghost is like that with him—in a way. Johnny is just too in love clinically obsessed with you to notice how Ghost pays attention to him.

Ghost 1000% did not balk at the first video. Definitely got off to it. He maybe also probably without a doubt got off to Johnny stroking himself in the barracks while he watched you on the cameras 🫣 And when the videos keep coming? Oh, this is going to be a fun little game for him, his Sergeant and the pretty little thing keeping him in line at home for him.

The next time you’re on base is to pick up Johnny, fresh off the tarmac from whatever undisclosed location they were mucking about in this time, and you notice when they deplane how Ghost sort of… herds him. Stands at his back and trails him down the ramp. Pushes him in your direction because Ghost immediately has you in his sights while Johnny is busy fussing with a strap on his pack.

“Fuck’s sake Johnny… stop fuckin’ with the bag and get your girl.” He shoves him forward, big gloved hand on his lower back making him stumble. He doesn’t have much time to ponder it, and all the other touching Ghost had suddenly taken to with him, because you’re already on him, arms wrapped around him in a vice and your face buried in his chest, and all he wants is to be wrapped your warmth.

Johnny doesn’t see the way Ghost lingers at the edge of the hangar, watching you look him over and fuss over the cut on his brow, the stitches. Is too blinded by his infatuation with you to see the hunger in his eyes as you lead him away to the car.

Their next op is a tedious thing. They can’t brute force their way into the target compound the way they usually would, armed to the teeth and scaling walls and buildings under the cover of darkness. No, because this is a bunker, and blasting through the only door, their only exit, isn’t an option.

It takes days for Laswell's Cyber Operations Officers to comb through each and every checkpoint in their systems, to comb through the code and brute force the data needed to create a key card that they can use to bypass the locks. And all that waiting makes Johnny antsy. Restless. A grenade with a pulled pin waiting for the strike lever to fall.

He's done his best to occupy himself. Spent hours in the gym, running until his legs shake and lifting until he's red in the face. Methodically oils and cleans every rifle, every pistol he can get his hands on. Checks and rechecks his calculations for the cocktail of explosives they'll need for this op.

And still, he paces. Bounces his leg at meals and meetings. Taps his fingers erratically on the table tops.

Ghost knows that at home when he feels like this, he goes to you. Focuses all that pent up energy on you to keep himself level-headed and in check. But you're not here, and Ghost can't have his Sergeant dancing around tripwires on this op. He's going to have to redirect that energy himself.

Later that evening, sitting on the couch, sipping wine and watching a movie, one of Johnny's favorites, you get a text from an unknown number.

Had to teach the pup a lesson. Needs more patience. 📎 IMG_449.MOV

You hesitate.

Johnny never told you much about what he does, but he told you enough to prepare you for the possibilities of things like this. Messages from strangers. Videos and pictures of him. That no matter what you see, what they tell you, you shouldn't believe them. Don't give them what they want.

But this... this doesn't feel quite like the things he told you about. So you open it.

It's a video of Johnny on his knees, hands tied--belted--behind his back, eyes watery when they look up into the camera, and his mouth stuffed with a thick cock. There's a gloved hand in his hair, fisting loose strands of mohawk and holding him in place while the length of their cock pushes down his throat, familiar skeletal pattern printed on the back.

"Good pup, just gotta sit nice and still for me," Ghost's roughened voice purrs through the speakers, and Johnny moans, low and sweet for him.

And God if that isn't the prettiest you've ever seen him, taking a cock down his throat and blinking tear filled eyes up at his superior, panting and choking, drool dribbling down his chin. His eyes go a bit wide when Ghost fucks his throat in earnest, and it sends warmth flooding straight to your core, wetness gathering embarrassingly fast in your panties.

Ghost's moan is a broken sounding thing when he comes, hips stuttering and yanking Johnny down to the base of him, grunting praises as he swallows around him. When he finally loosens his grip on Johnny's hair and pulls away from him, his lips make a little 'pop' sound, cum and drool a mess on his face. The camera moves closer and Ghost tilts his chin up between surprisingly gentle fingers.

"You'll get yours when we're back. Copy?"

Johnny nods, and when Ghosts grip tightens on his jaw he says, "Copy, sir." And that's where it ends.

You save Ghosts number in your phone and drain your glass of wine.

Think he'll still be well behaved when you're home?

Doubt it.

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