#i rewrote it like twice

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

part 16 - but I know where to start

“Feeling my way through the darkness, guided by a beating heart. I can’t tell where the journey will end, but I know where to start.” -Wake Me Up by Avicii

Regent Masterlist Part 15

Was it a cop-out to summon Jazz back to the Far Frozen? Yes. Did Danny particularly care? Nope! 

Jason was comfortable, propped up with a book Ghostwriter who had popped by to personally deliver. How the ghost had known about Jason Phantom wasn’t going to question, but he suspected GW kept an eye on the bookworms that passed through the Realms- or at least those close to the “Royal family”. Phantom wasn’t much for reading, not unless it was space-related, but he enjoyed listening to the Liminal man reading out loud. He had a brash voice, accented with a cadence like those from Crime Alley, but it only underscored the passion he held for reading. Phantom didn’t interrupt him once, not even when the halfa pulled out his ecto-phone and texted Ellie. 

(His little sister was in Kansas, spending time with another clone she’d literally run into.) 

Almost another full day's cycle passed before Phantom realized Jason had fallen back asleep, a book resting open on his broad chest and soft snores coming from the man. 

Yeah, he could see how he and Jazz fit together so well. 

There was just something about the Once-Revenant, a part of what made him Jason, that resonated with the Phantom. It’s what made him talk to the man as Red Hood, feel comfortable enough to stay in his company for so long, trust him with his older sister- the person who raised him. 

(Spent her birthday money to get him those cheap plastic glow-in-the-dark stars.) 

(Taught him how to read.) 

(Held him as the nightmares of his death shook him to his core.) 

(Did not fear him.) 

(Not as Phantom, Danny, or Dan.)

(Loves him.) 

(Mourns him.) 

(He would never tell her, but he understood how Dan could succumb to grief.)

(Jazz was his.) 

(His first friend, his true mother, his rock.) 

(She wouldn’t have claimed Regency without that tie.) 

Remix & Original chat 

Remix: Lol hows weenie Original:   jasons x3 ur size pipsqeak                    Remix:  ur point?  Original:  lol hes ok                                 frosty says he got hurt wth shrpnel                        new healed core + shrapnel = bad time Remix:  sucks 2 b him  Original:               so tru        Whre r u? Remix: omw 2 spain barcelona Original: ooh send pics if u need me call Remix: pics or nay gotcha txt u l8r luv u  Original: love u 2

Safely back in the living Realm and tucked away in Jason’s apartment, Jazz and Danny tried to investigate the bomb- unfortunately there was nothing for them to do but wait. 

On the upside, the Justice League was about to hit the UN full force with all the subtlety of a tsunami and who had front row seats to the drama? 

Yep, the Regent.  Jazz wasn’t exactly thrilled that her presence was requested, even though it was on the path to the desired outcome the Nightingale siblings had fought for, but both her soulmate boyfriend and little brother would be by her side as support. 

The Birds and the Bats Group Chat

Zombie: I lived bitch Spoiler-Alert: Jason!  Fly-Like-A-Dick: Little Wing!  Blood_Heir: Todd. Zombie: don’t sound too excited there demon brat.  Blood_Heir: Never.  Sleep_When_Im_Dead: Where have you been? Zombie: Stayed overnight at my Docs for observation.  Fly-Like-A-Dick: For three days? Blood_Heir: Fail to find that humorous Todd.  Zombie: wasn’t meant to be a joke brat.  I was actually at my Docs.  Zombie: Got a shovel talk from my girlfriends little brother too.                                     Spoiler-Alert:  Whoa GIRLFRIEND!!!! 😱 Jason!  Why is this the first were hearing this??? Fly-Like-A-Dick: Little Wing!!!!!! Quiet_Dancer: 🤗  Zombie:  At least Cass and Dickiebird are happy for me                                    Spoiler-Alert:  Ecstatic! But details! Now.                                                      Zombie: No.                                              Fly-Like-A-Dick: Is she a redhead??? Sleep_When_Im_Dead:  Jasmine Nightingale.                                                      Zombie: Babs.                                               Oracle_of_Gotham:  On it.  [member Sleep_When_Im_Dead has been blocked from the group.]  Spoiler-Alert:  too late!!!!!! Cass  with me! Quiet_Dancer: 🫡 Oracle_of_Gotham: DENIED Batdad:  Welcome back Jaylad.                                                        Zombie:                                           Old man       You and I need to have a talk with words                                              Fly-Like-A-Dick: battle stations everyone!!!

Council of Uncaged Birds

Queen_Regent: Ellie, I want you to meet Jason.  Officially meet him.  WanderingPrincess: eh??? temp said wasnt srs Queen_Regent: Danny No InfiniteStarPrince: Danny YES Frosty said they are  soulmates!!!!!! WanderingPrincess: 🤯😱 wha th fuck!!!1 Queen_Regent: language!  WanderingPrincess: ENGLISH imma get a shovel gotta undead weenie 2 bury.

Template. [user InfiniteStarPrince has left the chat]  WanderingPrincess: coward Queen_Regent: I have many regrets.  WanderingPrincess: u luv us 👻

Lady & Knight chat Lady: Jay remember when I told you I wanted you to meet Ellie?  Knight: She’s bringing a shovel isn’t she.  Lady: I love how brilliant you are.  Knight: I aim to please. 

Lady & Knight chat Knight: you patrolling tonight? Lady: wasnt planning on it Knight: wanna meet me? Lady: same time same place? Knight: you know it

The abolishment of the Anti-Ecto Acts officially happened at three pm on a dreary Gotham Tuesday. Jazz was cuddled with Jason on his couch, dozing off to his heartbeat as he read Pride and Prejudice for the thousandth time. The comfortable silence they had wrapped themselves in only occasionally broken by Jason turning a page was completely shattered when Jazz’s phone rang with the Ghostbusters theme song. 

“Danny?” Jazz answered surprised, “School isn’t out yet, what’s wrong?” She was greeted by Danny’s heaving cries as he replied. 

“Batman, he- he did it!” Danny sobbed, “He saved us.” 

It clicked then. The Dark Knight had completed the task he was entrusted with by a Spirit of Protection, the Once and Future Star King, and unknowingly kept the promise a ghost made to a young Jasmine Fenton. 

One day my son will stop this. All of this. You only need to be strong. Take care of yourself and your brother. I promise. 

She had waited years for the promise to be fulfilled, the sworn promise of the dead to a living child. Jasmine was a patient soul, but she had still been a child that night in Gotham. 

(The Drs. Fenton believing the stories about a ghostly vigilante patrolling the streets, a never aging child by their side.) (Dragging their children with them. ) (Hungry and cold.) (A dead man who swore his son would end their torment one day.)

(She should’ve known it wouldn’t come fast enough to save Danny.) 

How was she to know the ghost was speaking of the Realms inhabitants, not the abused and neglected children of Ghost Hunters? How was she to know that the hope such a promise kindled wasn’t hers to keep?  Jason wrapped his arms around her, the book set aside and her phone gently taken from her grasp to be put on speaker so they could both talk to her little brother. Danny had dissolved from heaving sobs to muffled hiccups, seemingly now that he’d shared the news with his sister. 

“He really did,” she muttered. “He really did it.” 

(The furry fucker actually did it.) (She’d known that he was going to try, but humans are stubborn creatures.)

A/N: Hi! Welcome to an update for the Regent. Just to be fully transparent with each of my readers - The Regent is still on Hiatus.

I have deleted so much of my writing because I don't like the flow/dialogue/pacing. Original ending thrown out and rewritten twice- still don't care for it. Who knew something other than Angst would be so difficult.

(Not me!)

Having said that, this entry is of course beta'd by the wonderful @meditating-cat who has put up with my random messages.

(You are amazing!)

(In all honesty, I wish I could just skip right to the ending because at least I know 100% I can get it just right....eventually.)

Thanks for reading and happy easter!

[child-of-the-nights]

Could u please do some domestic Aro Volturi headcanons?🥰 thx

Absolutely! ^^

A/N: The mate is human in this one but let me know if you'd like a vampire mate version.

TW: None

Domestic Aro Volturi Headcanons

~Reader is gender neutral~

Since vampires don't require food, cooking isn't something Aro does. Now, I do believe that The Volturi has some human staff outside the secretaries. In fact, I think that there are some cooks in the palazzo and they serve food for the secretaries (kind of in a 'free lunch' way).

But if Aro's mate insisted on wanting to cook, who was he to deny it? If he had the time, he would even linger around to see what they are making. Aro has seen thousands of minds and has useful information tucked away in his own. That includes some tips and tricks on cooking.

I fully believe he would help them out with something if they asked him to. He would ask for a favor in return of course, but that's a story for another day.

His mate struck gold with this ancient vampire when it comes to domestic stuff. Why? Because Aro is curious about MANY things.

So when it comes to his mate doing something to keep themselves busy while Aro is working, he would be delighted to hear them ramble about it. Crocheting? Oh yes, he had seen some people do that. Redecorating their room? Aro would love to help them with ideas if they cannot decide on something. Whatever it is, he is ready to share his opinion.

Whenever he is free, he likes to take his mate to his private library. Now, I'm not saying Aro is a hoarder, but he kind of is. As a result, his mate should expect to find a wide variety of books on various domestic themes. After all, who wouldn't want to learn about the ancient art of tea-making?

He also loves fashion and had tried out most trends. What I'm saying is that Aro would love to share his clothes with his mate if given the chance. Heck, he would even dress them up himself if they let him.

What Aro would most appreciate is if his mate could provide him with new information. He just wants to know everything, regardless of what it is about. I mean, with his mind reading ability, it's not that difficult for him to find it out, but he just loves hearing them say it.

When it comes to sleeping, he usually stays by their side until they are asleep. If he doesn't have too much work, that is. If he has time, he would read to them or cuddle with them. He finds dreams to be incredibly fascinating and would enjoy watching them like "movies".

Aro would never expect his mate to clean their room because they have staff for that as well, but if they insisted, he would gladly let them. His eyesight is far superior to that of a human, so they can expect some snarky remarks about how they missed a spot. But it's only a joke. Aro actually enjoys listening to his partner singing their favorite song while tidying the room up. He would never make them feel bad about themselves.

Gardening, on the other hand, is bittersweet for Aro. His sister used to garden a lot, and it reminds him of those times. Nevertheless, he offers advice to his partner when they ask for it. While they are working, Aro might even share some interesting tales about his sister. He gently reminds them to respect his sister's work, or more precisely, what's left of it. For everyone's sake.

Overall, I think he's a great mate to have when it comes to domestic things.

[little-pondhead]

The Folly of Men -

Chapter 1: #355E3B

AO3 - MASTERPOST

[GENERAL TW: Swearing, lukewarm violence, lots of POV changes, and mild body horror.]

[Fair warning, guys: Canon is a ball pit, and I’m throwing a baby into it. I have no clue what's happening. Feel free to point out mistakes!]

-

Danny was starting to hate the color green. It was the color of death.

Green reminded him of the portal that killed him, and the electricity that was constantly humming under his skin. It reminded him of being on the wrong end of an ecto-blaster and having to dodge for dear life. It reminded him of choking plants that swallowed him whole and tried to turn him into fertilizer. It reminded him of his glowing eyes and how they seemed to take up his entire face when he looked at himself in the mirror.

And right now, as he lay weakly on his side, grasping at fresh wounds with shaky fingers as he tried to ice them closed, the green blood that was splattered everywhere reminded him he wasn’t human.

Not anymore.

-

Green was a familiar color to Ra’s al Ghul. It was the color of life. 

Green reminded him of the Lazarus Pits, mostly. When it was the reason he’d lived such a long life, how could it not be the first thing he thought of? Green also reminded him of his cloak and the warmth it wrapped him in during the cold desert nights when his wife was still alive. Of the beauty he saw in the natural world and why he wanted to protect it. It reminded him of his green eyes that have been passed down through his very few children and grandchildren. Green was the color of the al Ghuls and represented the power he’d amassed through centuries of hard work. 

And right now, as he stood before the Well of Sins, Ra’s was reminded of a secret contract that was buried deep within his personal records, and the monster he’d made it with. The Gardener, the creature called itself, was a being who had crawled out of a Lazarus Pit years ago in search of Ra’s. Its flesh was made from thorny vines and grasses intertwined, and its eyes were tiny red blooms that glowed and made him feel sick just thinking about it. It had forced him into the contract, exchanging power and knowledge in return for a promise of help in the near future. 

‘Near future,’ my ass. Timothy Drake's fleeting voice flickered in his mind, and he could only agree with his subconscious's crude words. It seemed like the only appropriate term as it had already been several centuries since the contract was made, and the being had yet to claim its part of the deal.

He watched, mind racing, as the Well of Sins started swirling frantically. He was alone, with his attendants on standby. Should he call them in? No. Whatever was causing the strange reaction in the pool had something to do with that contract. He could feel it. A power was tugging at his heart, drawing him closer to the edge of the green waters. He loathed to admit it, but this was beyond his scientific understanding. He just knew that every time he tried to look away and leave, his whole body felt like it was alight with flame.

So he stood. And he stared. For hours, possibly, before the first sign of something new caught his attention. A screeching sound was echoing from the bottom of the pool. It slowly got louder and higher pitched as the stone floor started glowing so bright Ra's almost risked the pain of glancing away.

A large head was making its way through the bottom of the pool. It went slowly to accommodate large shoulders, followed by a wide chest and narrow waist. The figure paid no mind to the churning of the Well of Sins and broke the surface of the waters with the ease of a seasoned swimmer. The screeching sound echoed wildly, bouncing unnaturally throughout the chamber, sounding more like incomprehensible words. Ra's wanted to plug his ears with wax and banish the figure back where it came from. Instead, he didn't even twitch an eye.

The Gardener stood before him. And it was carrying a body.

"Master of Lazarusss," it hissed, inclining its head in acknowledgment, but making no move to exit the pool. "Too long has it been, has it not? I've come to collect on my part of the deal."

Ra's nodded in return. Higher being or not, he refused to bow to anyone. "I've expected this, Gardener." He said roughly. Despite learning their language years ago, the sharp chirps and clicks made by the dead were difficult to sound out. It was like he was trying to mimic a broken radio. "Although it's taken longer than I expected for your arrival."

The Gardener clicked its beak in annoyance. "Don't give me flowery words, Pretender. It was not my choice whether to appear before you or not. The Scepter of our realm visited me long ago and commanded me thus; I only now see her vision behind it."

"I...see." He did not see, thank you very much. That was more information in two sentences than he'd ever managed to get from the Gardener. Were there others at play in this little contract of theirs? He did not like the idea of that. "And I assume this whole thing has something to do with the boy in your arms?"

The Gardener let out a low humming sound that seemed to originate from its chest and echo in Ra’s bones. It glanced down, turning the body over gently to let Ra's see his face. The boy was just a child, no older than sixteen. He was deathly pale and seemed eerily stiff, just as if rigor mortis had set in. His white hair was plastered to his forehead from the water, and his clothes were nothing more than rags. Thick green blood was leaking from several wounds and pooling underneath his skin. It wasn't hard to guess what the Gardener was about to ask.

"This is our Guardian and one of the last of his kind. His haunt is not safe anymore, and I task you with his care for the foreseeable future."

Without waiting for a response, the Gardener sloshed forward to set the boy oh-so-gently upon the edge of the pool, taking care that his thorns did not pierce the child. A few vines cupped his face gently as if the Gardener was sad about the boy's state of being.

The assassin made no move to step forward and claim him. "What iske?" He asked. Ra’s voice caught on the last syllable, and he had to repeat the question again properly. Annoying.

The Gardener didn’t seem to mind and just stepped back, relinquishing its hold completely. "He is our Guardian." It repeated. "Care for him well. His fraid will be on the hunt for him and return any harm tenfold. But earn his loyalty, and the power of the Infinite Realms will be at your fingertips. Good luck, Master of Lazarus."

With that, the Gardener disappeared beneath the waves of the Well of Sins, and the waters calmed. The only proof that someone had been there was the sopping wet teen that lay at Ra's feet.

Ra's stared at the boy. The tugging in his heart was a bind, he realized. And it was tying him to the boy. Well, caring for a dead child shouldn't be that hard. Despite his disagreement with Talia over the matter, Jason Todd had turned out just fine, hasn’t he?

With the contract heavy on his mind, Ra's turned and left the boy lying there, clicking his jaw and calling for his attendants to collect him. The Lazarus Pits had gifted him with a new heir, it seemed.

-

“WHAT DID YOU DO?”

In another world, a redheaded girl was on the edge of a rampage. Her scream echoed down the suburban street her house was on, and the neighbors sighed quietly and locked their windows shut, not realizing the severity of the question. They were used to this family's antics, and the girl's screaming as a result.

But this could not be written off as 'family antics.'

Jasmine Fenton, nicknamed ‘Jazz,’ was positively furious. Red-faced, she stood before her parents with steam coming from her ears and a bat in hand. 

“Jazzy-pants, we-” her father tried.

“Nope!” Jazz put up a hand to stop him. “Never mind, I don’t want to hear it. I already know.” 

She whirled around, tuning out her parents' protests as she stormed through their house. Correction, her parent’s house. If she had her way, Jazz would never see these metal and unloving walls ever again. Neither would her brother, once she found him. 

Her phone rang, and she flipped it open with a snap, leaving the bat at the end of the hallway. Only a few people had her number, and it sure as hell wasn’t her parents calling her. “What.” She barked, shoving the phone between her shoulder and ear as she dug through Danny’s closet. His bug-out bag hadn’t been moved. 

“It’s Tucker.”

“We have a code green and a code yellow.” She ground out. Good, the ecto-dejecto shots were up to date. The less time she spends in that god-forsaken lab, the better. 

“Fuck.” Tucker swore. Rustling was heard and she heard another voice in the background. “I’m putting you on speaker.” 

Jazz re-packed the bag quickly, adding in some non-essentials that she knew Danny would appreciate. After it was settled on her shoulders, she switched the phone back to her hand for a better grip. “Is Sam there?”

“I’m here.” The girl responded. 

Jazz tripped over her bedroom carpet in her rush to her room. She cursed but recovered and started ransacking her closet and drawers. “Good. One of you needs to contact Danielle. Our parents sold Danny out, and the GIW took him while I was gone yesterday. I’m going ghost and getting him back. Tell Danielle she’s in danger since they have her ecto-signature now.”

“We’re going with you.” Sam said firmly. There was more rustling, and Jazz guessed they were looking for their own emergency bags. “I don’t care how long it takes; we’ll get him back.” 

“Are you going to shut down the portal?” Tucker asked. 

Jazz paused, considering it. In the original plan, Danny was in charge of shutting down the portal while Jazz and the others took care of the Fentons, GIW, and everything else. It was personal for him; his final resting place. But now that Danny was missing, and they needed a reliable escape route. 

“Not permanently.” She decided. “I’ll figure out how to turn it off temporarily, or put a shield up, but Danny will need to be the one to make that call.” 

Tucker started typing furiously on his laptop, muttering under his breath until he got to the file he wanted. “Sam and I will take care of the town defenses, and Dani’s on her way from New Zealand. She’ll be here in a few hours. I’m sending you a bug; plug it into the Fenton’s security systems, and it’ll lock them out of the house for now. Only do it after you’re done in the labs. Sam’s gone off and is pulling some strings to get all the ghosts in town back to the Zone. I’ll start tracking Danny and shutting down all the Fenton and GIW equipment I can find.”

“Thanks, Tucker. I’ll meet you guys at Nasty Burger in two hours; pass that message to Danielle.”

“Sure thing. Oh, and Jazz?”

“Yeah, Tuck?” Jazz started counting her hidden wads of cash, making sure it was all there. They never wanted to believe the Fentons would go this far, but she was glad they’d made contingency plans just in case. 

She could hear Tucker’s silent snarl as he said his parting remark. “Leave enough of them behind for the rest of us.”

Jazz laughed, a little hysterical. “I’ll try.” She said, bidding him farewell. Honestly, she wasn’t even sure she could look at her parents ever again. But she knew, deep in her bones, that if they tried to stop her, there wouldn’t even be ashes left from the hell she would raise. 

-

Gotham was caught in a storm. It was one of those ugly, howling summer storms that threw water in your eyes and bit your skin with a vengeance. Damian squinted, trying to make out the sight of Spoiler and Signal through the rain, but even their bright uniforms were lost in the shadows.

He tightened his grip on his grappling hook as a particularly harsh wind tried to throw him around like a ragdoll. Water seeped into his collar, making him shiver. A beep echoed in his ear, and he risked taking one hand off the line to answer his comms.

"Robin," Oracle was practically shouting in his ear over the storm. "Signal made it to the Cave. Spoiler is rounding up Condiment King, and then she'll do the same. You can go back now."

Damian tsked. "Father is still out here," he replied. "I shall not return until he does."

"Robin-" Oracle sighed.

Another gust of wind made him grunt, and he cut the call to refocus on scaling the building. The only good thing that came from such a wild storm was that most of the villains were smart enough to stay inside. Splitting up in such conditions always left a sour taste in his mouth, but Damian understood it was necessary to cover as much ground as possible during times of emergency.

He wasn't sure this counted as an emergency, but Todd was certainly treating it as such. The citizens of Crime Alley were being hit hard. Enough to the point where Red Hood had openly invited the Bats onto his turf to help with the flooding and evacuation from some unstable buildings. Batman and Red Robin had gone, leaving Robin and Orphan to cover their patrol routes.

Finally, finding purchase on the rough brick, Damian quickly hauled himself up to safety. Some of his equipment was ruined, and his costume was soaked. Truly, this storm had come out of nowhere.

His comms clicked back to life. "Robin." Cain's clipped tone was somehow louder than Oracle's voice.

"I'm here," he replied, scowling at the oily mud on his shoes. Damned pollution.

"Home," Orphan said simply.

Damian scowled even harder. He could argue with Oracle without issue, but he barely won when it came to speaking with Orphan. "...Fine." He sniffed. "I shall return."

"Good." Damian could hear the smile in her voice. "Agent A has cocoa."

"I'll consider it." He said stiffly. He imagined his adoptive sister smiling slyly and glancing toward the sky before the comms switched off, leaving him to his thoughts again. After checking his grapple to ensure it still worked, he started picking his way through the building at a snail's pace, letting himself get distracted whenever he spotted someone in trouble. The Batcave would be warmer and dryer than the streets, but not everyone had a dry place to return to. Every little bit helped in the long run, and even Damian wouldn't pass by a lost child in the rain.

The only thing that bothered him more than the dark clouds overhead and fresh hail on the way home was the unnatural feeling on his spine. It felt like someone was watching him, judging him. But when he looked, nobody was there.

-

The stars were gone.

Danny felt weightless as he floated, staring at the space where the stars were supposed to be. He felt lighter than normal. Danny was surrounded by colors that flowed and ebbed like the tide, taking him deeper into this mysterious space. Golden fish and silver deer wove past him as fire and ice trailed behind, and yet he couldn’t seem to muster up the energy to get up. He just laid there silently. A bone deep exhaustion was settling into him, but sleep refused him.

“Ghost Child.”

Oh, Danny was dreaming. He was already asleep.

He didn’t turn his head, nor acknowledge when the stars returned to his line of sight. The stars wrapped around him like a curtain, cutting off the rest of the dreamscape. Two bright eyes, burning like red giants, peered down at him as thin hands cupped his body.

“Ghost Child.” The voice repeated again, speaking in his mind even as the words were swallowed by the silence of space.

Danny turned his head slowly. “Nocturn,” he murmured. These too, were snatched from his throat and lost. The cold seeped into his chest and he hiccuped. He couldn’t speak. Not that he really wanted to.

Luckily, Nocturn seemed to understand him just fine. He cradled Danny gently, bringing him closer to his chest. Something shifted in the fabric of space, and suddenly Danny was being laid to rest on the smooth stone of a crescent moon, as pearly white as his own hair. He sighed as the coolness of the moon seeped into his body, soothing aches and burns he didn’t remember getting.

“Where are we?” He wanted to ask.

Nocturn blinked slowly at him, his face twisted down towards Danny. His ram’s horns glinted as a glowing blue jay landed on them and started preening itself. Danny wanted to fly with the bird. His body didn't move.

“Sleep, Ghost Child.” Nocturn hummed. The moon vibrated beneath Danny, soothing the electric currents that kept him awake no matter what he did. Danny’s eyes started sliding shut as Nocturn’s song wrapped around him like a lullaby.

The others… Danny’s mind whispered.

Are safe. The song replied. Rest, young guardian. Your people are safe. You did well.

That was all he needed to hear. Danny let himself fall into slumber, relief flooding his mind. Yes, his people were safe. He did well. He deserved some rest.

As the young ghost fell into a dreamless sleep, a real sleep, Nocturn gently tucked the boy in with a blanket made from his own starry robes, shifting the fabric once more to hide away his core, and the boy who was resting on it. The bluejay on his head chirped indignantly from the movement and flew away, leaving a trail of smoke behind.

Nocturn paid it no mind. Warnings from Fate were never a good idea to ignore, but the bird was but a memory of a life that had long since passed. It only stuck around because of the dreams that kept feeding it. The ghost let his lullaby continue as he returned to his work, taking care to move slowly.

Undergrowth was taking care of his physical body, so he would care for the boy's mind. Vortex was off to round up the little ghostlings who had scattered like dandelion seeds, and the Master of Time was keeping an eye on the rest of Phantom's fraid while they rampaged in the mortal realms. After the stunt he pulled to protect the Realms, it was the least the elder ghosts could do.

-

"Is the boy awake?" Ra's asked sharply, entering the private rooms he had set aside for the boy.

The attending nurse, an older man born with no tongue, bowed his head and signed, 'No, sir. Vitals are off. He is a cold corpse.'

Ra's regarded the boy. It has been several weeks since the Gardener dropped the boy off in his care, and he hadn't awoken once throughout the entire time. He truly looked like a regular dead teenager, if you exclude the unnaturally white hair.

The Demon's Head bent over the boy's bed, tugging open an eyelid to see if he would react. Nothing. However, he noted the boy's eyes were green, which he was mildly pleased about. Green was such a lovely color, and this boy seemed surrounded in it.

A sharp knock echoed from the door, and Ra's granted the other party permission to enter. His best phlebotomist, a man named Paz, entered, holding a stack of papers as thick as his thumb. He bowed to Ra's as soon as he saw him.

"The results?" Ra's asked.

Paz immediately handed over his work, fully confident that Ra's understood everything he'd written. "For all purposes, the boy is dead." He said in a thick accent. He spoke in halted Arabic, as he'd only lived in 'Eth Alth'eban for a short time. "He has no circulation. No heart to move blood, or lungs to breathe. We must move him every hour to prevent postmortem lividity. He has undergone an extensive autopsy process, but it seems it was stopped before his brain was removed. No organs remain in his body otherwise.”

Ra's examined the papers. They were reports from different scientists and doctors, all of whom had been assigned to examine and work on the boy. Most of them said the same thing. The boy was dead and had been for a while. If the Well of Sins didn't do anything when he first exited the waters, what good would it do now?

He flicked his eyes up. "But you think otherwise," he stated.

Paz nodded enthusiastically. "The boy is dead, but his blood is alive!" He tapped a green folder that was poking out from the bottom of the pile. Ra's shuffled the papers off to the nurse and opened it. Printed off charts had been scribbled over with Paz’s frantic notes, documenting his thought process.

The phlebotomist rambled excitedly as his boss read his work, gesturing wildly. “It’s incredible! Most of his red blood cells have died off, and he has an abnormal amount of white blood cells, which indicate some kind of infection. But his plates-“

‘Platelets.’

“Platelets,” Paz nodded his thanks to the nurse for correcting his speech. “The boy’s platelets are still alive, and are actually trying to heal his injuries! We recorded a time-lapse last week to confirm it. The process is incredibly slow, even compared to human healing, but there’s a difference! Because of the absence of red blood cells, the plasma left in his body has practically doubled in volume, even though there’s no circulation to keep it moving. We’ve noticed a collection of stem cells at the base of his skull has started growing as well, and whatever it’s producing is being released into the body at regular intervals.”

“What kind of cells are they?”

“Unsure. At first, we thought it was cancerous in nature.” Paz tapped the corner of the folder again, prompting Ra’s to turn the page. “And while these cells are certainly growing as fast as unchecked cancer, rather than doing harm, we’ve taken samples and noted that they’re merging with whatever original matter has been left in the boy’s body. Bonding, like glue! The healing process is periodically speeding up with every release, the plasma has started circulating on its own, and the white blood cell count is diminishing. Honestly, I’ve never seen anything like it! It’s filling in for everything that’s missing, and keeping what is there, alive. Dr. Vanessa hypothesized that within the month, it may even start replacing the boy’s organs.”

Ra’s looked up from the research. “These photos look like plant cells, is this an example or actual recordings of the activity?”

Paz wrinkled his nose. “Those are evidence of the activity. For some reason, cellulose is present within his body, and the mysterious stem cells seem to be a mix of both plant and animal matter. It’s hard to track even with our technology, but it looks like the cellulose is forming a sort of…skeleton? Frame? I’m not sure what the right word is, but Dr. Vanessa says they might start regrowing in another month. If that’s true, this would be a huge breakthrough in the realm of organ transplants and other medical fields!”

The Demon’s Head hummed, flipping through the work again and considering the man’s words. “Very good,” he praised. Paz beamed like a child at his words. “Unfortunately, I shall be releasing you of your duty, and your tongue is too loose for your head.”

“What-“ Paz’s eyes widened as he gurgled, his words cut off. Ra’s twisted his wrist, driving home the dagger he’d planted in the man’s heart. He had no use for men who talked too much.

Paz fell to the floor, convulsing as he tried to weakly remove the weapon still sticking out of his chest. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he went pale as his blood seeped out onto the floor.

Ra’s barely spared the dying man a glance, taking back the extra stack of papers from the nurse and neatly stepped around him to exit the room. “Clean that up,” he said over his shoulder.

The old nurse bowed his head, waiting patiently for the foolish doctor to finish dying before he got out the mop.

This is why the nurse had survived so long; he knew how to stay silent.

-

[Nocturn tucking Danny in to rest. Ghost speech says, "Rest well, ghost child"]

[suddencolds]

almost done... 🙏

[rosieofcorona]

it might be time to quit my job fr

[whumpacabra]

Session #15

Therapy, angst, past trauma, past dehumanization, implied past violence, bar fight mention, neonazi mention, referenced past character deaths, dubious psychology by fault of the author

[Follows Bared]

“It was fine until…until we got back to the house. It was late - everyone was asleep and we all went to our rooms and - ” East’s breathing shuddered. He wasn’t crying - not yet, an impressive 20 minutes into the session - but he was feeling the vice of terror squeeze his heart. “I just…I know he was an asshole, and he probably deserved it - or worse - but - I - I enjoyed it.”

“I probably would too; there’s catharsis in taking someone like that down a peg.” Judy hadn’t been critical of his parole violation - (he wasn’t actually on parole, he had to remind himself) - she was more interested in its aftermath. Which, for once, East wanted to talk about.

“It wasn’t just, as you said, taking him down a peg. It - it felt like before. When Smith would have me…y’know…” He trailed off, clearing his throat and reaching for a paper cup of water. Drinking helped him keep his voice. Judy nodded, brow knit in concern.

“Was it like a flashback, like you were feeling the way you did when he made you kill for him?”

“No - no, maybe?” East cringed, running his fingers through his hair. (It was getting long - he wasn’t sure he wanted a haircut. He wasn’t sure if he would like who he saw in the mirror after.) “It…felt safe - controlled?”

“Control I think is the right word. Smith never let you express yourself outside of when he made you kill for his entertainment. You were safe to do as you wished within the scope of his orders.”

(Except the one time he wasn’t. Except the one time he tried to be creative - to show mercy the only way he knew how - and oh, how that choice fucked him later.)

(…)

(Well, he was here, alive and free, wasn’t he?)

“I guess…yeah, the control part - controlling the situation, it felt good. But…” He bit the insider of his cheek, shame creeping up his throat. “The way he looked at me, at the end - I just - I know how that feels. And I don’t know how to feel about that.”

“Well, as much of a wanker as he is, that skinhead is still human. He still feels fear and pain and shame just like the rest of us.”

“That doesn’t mean - but he’s still a skinhead and, and I should feel good kicking the shit out of him, right? I just felt…dirty. The way he looked at me...”

East shuddered, remembering coming home that night, sitting in the dark quiet of the house. How quickly the ghosts came for him, how little sleep he stole away.

“Smith made me feel that way. And I made that piece of shit feel the same. I - I mean, like - I could have been that piece of shit, when Smith - y’know - and, and I just - I wonder if that was how Smith felt. When he hurt me. It felt good - being in control, knowing that punk was scared of me, wouldn’t look me in the eye. Wouldn’t fight back anymore.”

And that was the heart of it, wasn’t it? East wasn’t upset because he empathized with a pathetic dickhead he scared the daylights out of. He was upset because he empathized with Smith - the heady rush of power, the security of being feared.

“What was the goal of fighting him?”

“He…Alister wanted to be left alone and he wouldn’t leave. I needed to make him leave because nobody else would.”

“Did you want to kill him?”

“No - no, I only threw his knife after him to scare him.” The question startled East from his spiral. He didn’t kill. He didn’t have to kill anymore. He didn’t want to kill anymore. So he didn’t.

“Do you regret it?”

(Did he?)

“No…he was an asshole. He wasn’t going to leave without a fight, or Alister, or both.” East avoided eye contact, trying not to think about what would have happened if he wasn’t there. If all of Tierney’s 151 cm of fiery drunkeness was pit against someone as hateful and hungry for violence as that punk.

“You saw your friend was in trouble. You took control of the situation - not the person causing it. You created a situation where he chose to leave, and you let him leave.” Judy glanced up from her notes. “You are not Smith, East. You didn’t trap him there. Whatever hits you threw were precise and efficient; you could have kicked the shit out of him, beaten him to a bloody pulp, and to be quite honest I don’t think anyone in that bar would have had an issue with it.”

“But - ”

“East, you let him go when he wanted to leave. Would Smith have done that?”

(No. Never. Smith would have meted out a punishment. Nothing but immediate and complete surrender was good enough for Smith.)

“Still feel like shit about it.” He managed to mumbled, swallowing back tearful words.

“Smith was human too, East. He was a fucking monster, but still just a human, like you and me and that prick from the bar.”

“If this is supposed to make me feel better, it isn’t.”

“You’re human too, East. You're going to have moments of your life that you're not proud of. You're going to say cruel, thoughtless things and behave inappropriately and upset other people. You're going to do things that feel good in the moment that you regret later. That dickhead at the bar didn’t regret what he said to you and your friends in the moment because he didn’t see you as people entitled to basic human decency. Just because he learned to regret that choice doesn’t mean you did something wrong.”

East nodded, digesting the information.

“Smith didn’t regret what he did to you because he didn’t see you as a person. He didn’t treat you with any respect or basic human dignity because he thought you didn’t deserve it. He was wrong, of course, but he didn't regret it.” Judy’s smile was tinged with wry bitterness. “If you can look a skinhead in the eye after kicking his ass and still see that he’s still a human being, that he’s just a man, you’re not going to make the same mistakes Smith made.”

“Yeah, I’ll get to make new mistakes.” East grumbled, the retort slipping past his lips before he could catch the thought. But Judy just smiled, shrugging.

“We all do. It’s how we choose to learn from and react to our mistakes that lets us grow beyond them.”

[Concurrent to Tea]

(Part of my Freelancers: Changing Tides series)

Taglist: @stargeode @sacredwrath @genuineformality

[when-sanpape-arts]

Imperfect Combo: Chapter 3

In which the question is posed: what is the point of dance dance revolution if not a tool for emotional suppression?

Chapter: 1 / 2

[gothprentiss]

@cmgiftexchange holiday gift for @pagetbewbster !!

the book of the dead

derek morgan/emily prentiss | rated m | 2 chapters | 16.8k words

He wanted to be grateful for her presence, and largely he was. But something was off, something was always unsettling him when they were together. He felt always that something was intervening between them. // A fresh wound you wouldn’t acknowledge could do a number on you. // Where was he, the Derek she knew? Her Derek, her partner— he might last have called her his partner when he was watching her bleed out. At least he’d called her his friend since then. Where was he, her solid foundation?

For the living. For the protection of the dead, and their guidance to the afterlife. Set season 7, largely canon-compliant. In the life after death, Derek and Emily find new ways of living.

[no1ryomafan]

I have no idea when the FUCK I’ll write for Big O despite the fact two of my irls I already got to watch getter with wanna watch it adjust next to my internal struggle of “my ass can ONLY ever write getter stuff and finish” and I don’t have a solid idea for a fic even if I’m rotating a lot of stuff but one thing I GOTTA say I love about Roger that could be applied to fics that idk if anyone done because I’ve been slacking on reading the fics in the tag is the fact he’s legitimately such a easy character to write in first person given he narrates almost every episode. Roger isn’t even my favorite character from the show-but I still like him ofc-but he’s probably the EASIEST one to grasp in writing thanks to this detail, because we always get a bit of a introspect into his mind. How he thinks, how he feels. Makes all the psychological shit that happens to him later all the more impactful.

[danidoesathing]

🦈💭❤️ for the fic ask game!

🦈 Which character is the toughest to write?

Frankie. oh my god i love her and would love to write her more but jesus christ she is a hard character to nail down. i am always scared im gonna do her wrong whenever i write her. miss lou im so sorry i cant do you justice like you deserve

💭 What inspires you and your writing?

oh a bunch of different stuff. music is an obvious one, both cause of the vibes™️ but also because my current fixation is music lore. all i gotta do is listen to a funky song and bam! we got a new fic. i've also gotten ideas from reading different fics (i dont copy the plot but sometimes a line or two will inspire me, or ill think "very cool but what if [this thing] happened" and i go insane from there) and on occasion random comments or sentences.

i mean one time i was writing a multi-chapter fic and like. there's a major MAJOR twist that was inspired by a comment i got on chapter 10 and it was one of my favorite plot points of that series. this comment singlehandedly made me redo an entire character storyline and made this character, who i had come up with for a scene or two at most, insanely important to plot and a huge part of the sequel fic i did. the comment wasn't exactly what i went with but it did inspire me to change that part up

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

That's really hard actually. a lot of my favorite parts of my fics are less single lines and more "effective in the context of the situation" but i did have some bangers in the love like ghosts fic i suppose. I kind like this one:

"There’s nothing beyond this edge of the world but concrete and the unforgiving earth, but you'll be damned if you aren't tempted."

[elesssars]

*holds the microphone too close to your face* your thoughts on Bilbo Baggins, please?? 👉👈

*leans in even closer so the mic peaks and everyone cringes*

that old man was gay!!

BANDJDKDJF but seriously bilbo is such an interesting character to me. he’s so petty that he can’t avoid the challenge of the adventure when thorin thinks he can’t do it, and he spends the rest of the story desperately avoiding conflict and trying to get himself and the company out of danger!! he’s always dodging back and forth, parlaying with the enemy in a plot to simply survive, stumbling around without a real plan for the majority of the time. but he’s SO clever, and his cleverness is enough to save him, even if it sometimes makes things worse (see: the ring) plus the choice to have him knocked out during the final battle…. MWAH!!!! it makes so much sense for his character and leaves you with the strangely hollow feeling about him never getting to say goodbye :((

then later ofc in lotr, he’s such a strange figure for me but SO interesting. this strange, eccentric uncle with his dark secret, hiding away from most people and insisting on going out with a bang at his party, his outburst to frodo, his distrust…. you can really see how the ring has deteriorated his mind so slowly, but in the end his trust and love prevail and he finally gets that happy ending we’ve been hoping for….. MANY BILBO THOUGHTS!!!

[chuplayswithfire]

Hey, do you know how this apparently cherished & well-established belief that Izzy Hands is working class got started up? Really hoping it's more than just a patronising generalisation about his regional accent on a show dripping with British regional accents. I might punch something if it's that

i am so sorry to tell you but as far as i can tell its based on con o'neill's accent, and the style of his clothes (which is bizarre to me since they don't appear to be classic working class stylings for the 1710s OR the modern era but....

i don't really go in izzy spaces, but from the few posts I've seen about it, it largely seems to hinge on his accent and the fact that he hates stede, which is of course, not allowed to be because of his whole, on-going homophobia and regular vitriol towards "feminine" gay men, but must be a class based thing only.

[sirompp]

HELLO MUTIALE. ART ASK GAME.

11 / 2 / 20 that accidentlaly lookes like a date

HELLO MUTUAL!

11. show us the last thing you drew, be it a finished piece or a small doodle

technically the last thing i drew was what my newly-organized sock drawer looks like but that was in my diary so im choosing not to count it. instead heres this scene from a dream that i drew earlier that same day

no they have never met. also ive only spoken to that kid two times. it was a weird almost-nightmare that had a consistent theme/fear which is very strange for my dreams (the theme was not being given a choice about doing things i didnt want to do/seriously stressed me out) and youll never guess what happened later that day that seriously stressed me out (i was forced to do something i really didnt want to do and had a Meltdown.)

2. what’s your favorite thing about your style

this is a tough one. i really like a lot of things about my style.

i like how i do tall pupils with round irises a lot i swear ive done it digitally before but i just cant seem to find any drawings ??

i like how i let my drawings be silly and expressive and i let myself draw things that arent the best most anatomically correct thing ever

but most of all. i like how all my art looks like it was drawn by me and how each part of it kind of tells you something about myself :3

i was going to go into more detail with more examples but i just noticed how long this post got so. um. moving on

2. a piece from this year that you’re really proud of

ive only made like two finished drawings so far this year and one of them is only "technically done" lol. so

ill be honest the second drawing i made this year looks..a lot more Impressive than this one but i still really like it :3 i think i did a good job on the colours and composition. aside from the flashlight. whats that thang doing over there. this drawing almost looks like itd be on a trading card for a trading card game

[masquenoire]

♧ - slap my muse’s hand away from something they shouldn’t touch (perhaps Corinthian's shades uwu)

Dark eyes smoulder in the fluorescent lighting of the bar, watching the other man with a keenness that’s borderline predatory. Try as he might, Roman couldn’t take his gaze off the stranger sitting nearby. He’d caught his attention in a way very few men had, albeit for more reasons than simply looking attractive. For example, who the fuck wore sunglasses indoors? Especially this time of night. He certainly didn’t seem blind; the way the blond was drinking on his own suggested he could see perfectly well but Roman wasn’t entirely convinced, watching him a little longer than was necessary. Another beverage, this time ordered and paid for by Roman himself is accepted by the stranger with reflexes as good as the first, catching it in his hands as it slides over with an arched brow before acknowledging the man who’d paid for his drink with an appreciative toast. Roman smirked. Talk about a new spin on tall, dark and handsome. One thing led to another as they struck up a conversation. Nobody bothered them; the people here partied hard and drank even harder, his fun new companion easily keeping up with the flow of information and strong shots, and yet... Roman found he still couldn’t pull his gaze away from the other’s own, eyes fixated on the possibility of what lay hidden behind those concealing lenses. His curiosity won out, wandering hand emboldened by one or two drinks of his own as Roman reached over to slide those glasses off. A cautionary slap diverted his fingers from their goal however, forcing him to pull back with a suitably chastised smirk. “Tch. Figured you weren’t blind.”

[pup-pee]

THE EMBARESSMENT OF A TEACHER RETURNING MY ASSIGNMENT BC IT WASNT GOOD ENOUGH FUCK

"did u even look at the sources we provided" I DID. ITS NOT MY FAULT THEY MADE NO FUCKING SENSE

edit; i got marked down HARD bc i forgot my name, the title, date, assignment name- IT DIDNT SAY 2 PUT THOSE IN THE INSTRUCTIONS SO I JUST FORGOT??????????????? IVE BEEN WRITING PAPERS MY WHOLE LIFE HOW DO I JUST FORGET???????

me writing this so if furture me is ever curious y i failed this class^^^

THERS UR ANSWER

[pulchramsolis]

[@azmenka sent]: courting - muse a rests one hand on muse b’s back and holds out the other for muse b to hold to help them climb up/down something you need to post more memes otherwise I'm just gonna start sending you mine btw Also this got... soft because I took the courting thing seriously okay

Abrogail had been sick and bedridden for nearly a moon. It was not uncommon for her to be ill. It is uncommon for her to be sick enough that she has little memory of the month except the annoying voice of the maester, and the foggy faces of what she thinks were visitors over the course of time.

The month has left her feeling raw and scraped out, and a little thinner, a little paler. None of it stopped her from pulling on a pair of old trousers and a tunic instead of one her dresses, heading out immedietly to look for Maron. She needed out and she was desperate and she'd found how badly she'd missed their time together when it had been so suddenly taken away. How badly she'd missed him.

Which is how the pair of them were making their way over the rocky shore of Blackwater Bay, the salt of the air pushing away the stink of the city. "Wait!" she laughed after him, arms up to keep her balance on the slippery rocks. "Hold on, I need to..."

Maron rolled his eyes at her, that teasing glint in his eyes as he came back to her. He muttered something about how it would be such a pain to have to carry her back with a broken ankle after everything. Amidst her giggles, his hand pressed gently between her shoulder blades, his other hand reaching for hers to steady her as they made their way down the last bit of rocky outcropping. A blush crept along her cheeks as she gripped his hand tight. His was calloused where hers was soft, big enough to engulf hers. Warm, where her own was cold. Gentle and firm, with the reassurance he would not let her fall. She wanted to take his hand and trace it with her fingers. Feel the years of sailing scarred into his hands, and match their palms to see the difference in size. So distracted by the thought, she almost missed the fact that they'd need to jump down for the last part.

He let go, and she immedietly missed the reassuring presence of him as he jumped down, but then he turned, lifting his arms up to catch her. The blush crept further down her neck, turning nearly as red as her hair as she carefully lowered herself and reached up to grasp his broad shoulders. His hands engulfed her waist and he lowered her down, but not before her eyes caught him. His as blue as the sea after a storm; hers a calm, azure sky. Abrogail's mouth went dry, her hands still grasping his shoulders.

"I missed you," she blurted out to fill the silence, as her eyes darted to his mouth and other things entered her mind. "A whole month without my favorite person to keep me entertained. I'm surprised you didn't die from boredom, or toss Lord Tyland from the top of the Red Keep."

don't think how pretty his mouth looks.