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Leave an anon prompt in the comments
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Have fun!


2. "Golden Glass", Damian + Kyle

3. "Source Discovered", various

6: "This Ain't No Mystery Machine", Tsundere Titans

7. "Real Hot Shit", various - pornstars

Date: 2013-03-21 07:56 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Academic!AU--but they're all professors instead of college students. Hot sex in libraries! Faculty politics! Affairs with each other's partners!

and if Green Arrow wears a tweed jacket with elbow patches I will love you forever

Date: 2013-03-22 02:57 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
I want Kyle to adopt Damian! can be cute and fluffy or can be dark (Kyle killed the rest of the batfam?)

golden glass

Date: 2013-03-26 01:45 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)

The bare bulb in the kitchen always yellowed within a week of being installed. Damian made a point to purchase clear lights when conducting his experiment, but it never altered the results: the light above Rayner’s chair at the table changed from white to yellow in a matter of days, within a few mealtimes of sharing breakfast and dinner with Damian and pretending their domestic arrangement was entirely normal.

“Did you finish your paper?” Rayner asked from his seat at the head of the table, and the bulb above him buzzed when he spoke. He didn’t seem to notice it, but Damian looked overhead and Rayner’s eyes thinned in suspicion as they followed Damian‘s gaze.

“Yes, Papi,” Damian said quickly, redirecting Rayner’s attention to himself. He shuffled his eggs with his fork and took a bite, forcing himself to swallow past the knot in his throat.

The hardness that seized Rayner’s features sometimes dissipated into his normal pleasant smile, and he stood to gather both of their plates and carry them to the sink. “I’ll see you after school. Have a good day, Damicito!” His hand brushed through Damian’s hair as he passed him on the way to the door, and the low buzz from the lightbulb seemed to flood Damian’s mind at the contact.

But his mind had been filled with static for five years now, since the night the dead air on the Watchtower feed had been broken by screams that Hal Jordan had been killed-- ripped apart, they’d said, legs in one room and arms in another and no one realized Damian had hacked into their channel, had listened with’ his limbs wrapped tight to his chest for fear of them being torn asunder-- and that Parallax had not been contained, repeat, Parallax is moving on an unknown trajectory at this time! Target unknown, target unknown, repeat, Parallax is moving on an unknown--

“I told you I’d come for you, Damicito.”

It was Rayner’s warm voice that issued from the gaping maw where his mouth should have been. Damian had never seen him enter his bedroom, but he was standing there at Damian’s nightstand and looking down upon him, not unkindly, really. He opened his arms and Damian had reached up for him, allowed Rayner to gather him close in his little dinosaur pajamas and carry him through the open French windows. The white gauze of the curtains blew across Damian’s face in the midnight breeze as they departed, and he never saw Wayne Manor or anyone who’d dwelled within it again.

He’d been frightened-- he was only a child, of course he was-- but he’d also been convinced Rayner wouldn’t hurt him, regardless of the entity that possessed him. Five years later, Damian still had no memories of Rayner hurting him. He did recall sometimes waking in bed late at night, lacerations on his arms and a gaping wound on his collarbone as if something had been siphoned from him, Rayner standing by his nightstand and looking down upon him as he’d done the night he took Damian from Wayne Manor. His mouth was always a little too wide to look natural now even when Parallax willed it into a human shape, and his teeth gleamed as he licked them clean of something dark and sticky. “Did you get into a fight? Ah, my Damicito.” He’d take Damian to the adjacent bathroom and sit the teenager on the edge of the bathtub to clean his wounds, asking him about schoolwork and telling him about a new sketchbook he’d bought for him and have you painted anything lately? We should go to the beach soon, Damicito, it’s warm and you love to swim. Damicito, you’re so quiet, is everything okay?

The answer to that question was yes. Damian knew that was the answer without Rayner having to prompt him aloud, through the same wordless channel that transmitted information like his captor expecting to be called “Papi” and that the field for his name on his schoolwork must always be completed with Damian Rayner. He’d written Damian Wayne once, by accident, his mind distracted and muscle memory drawing his hand across the paper in a familiar pattern. He didn’t realize his mistake until Rayner reviewed his test days later. He’d said nothing, just circled the offending surname with a pen and stuck it to the refrigerator with a magnet shaped like a smiling giraffe. “You got an A! Very good, Damicito,” he’d said, and he left the kitchen. The yellow bulb whined and flickered in the next moments, Damian watching it in dread that it might extinguish entirely.

It didn’t. Rayner never raised hand to him that Damian could remember, but the boy woke that night with teeth marks buried in his flesh, the punctures so deep he felt he’d been sapped from the marrow of his bones. Rayner stood there at the nightstand to ask again, “Did you get into a fight?”

But Damian didn’t get into fights, not anymore. Not after living with Rayner on the planet of H’rothi for a couple of years, many of its colonies settled by humans and offering lifestyles similar to those found on Earth, but far removed from the League’s jurisdiction. During the first year, Damian frequently wondered if anyone on Earth had the ability to reach such a remote planet in their search for him, or if Rayner had left anyone alive who might have tried. It’d been long enough now that the possibility only crossed his mind on rare occasions. Besides, Rayner always knew when Damian was thinking about things that displeased him. He always knew, and he never said anything about it. Damian suffered the lingering marks of someone’s vengeance in the deep indigo night, never memory of receiving them.

That’s how he recognized the day that Rayner finally died, whatever had been left of his spirit, and the shell of his body was fully claimed by Parallax at last.

It was night when Parallax came to Damian. It was always night. The early morning hours were heralded by lavender streaks blushing across the violet sky on Hroth’i, and Damian lie awake in bed, watching the transition that had become familiar over the last five years. He had difficulty sleeping for very long due to his fear of what he’d find when he awoke, but Rayner insisted he lie in bed for eight hours every night either way. Parallax had very basic notions of human child-rearing: school, meals at a table, putting the child to bed at night to rest before being tortured.


That was the first indication for alarm. Damian, not Damicito. Damian moved to sit up in his bed, his eyes fixed on Rayner standing in his doorway, but Rayner motioned for him to remain prone.

Rayner closed the distance between them, taking up his customary perch before Damian’s nightstand and staring down upon him, cold, unspeaking. “Papi?” Damian tried, and the corner of Rayner’s too-wide mouth curved with cruel amusement.

He pulled Damian’s blankets away from the boy’s body, and Damian shivered at the sudden rush of cold air as Rayner lifted his shirt to just under his arms, splaying icy fingers across his chest and stomach. Damian shuddered as those frigid hands traced patterns over the canvas of his skin, and he realized when Rayner flipped him over to examine his back that Parallax was looking for a patch of skin he’d not yet scarred.

Rayner’s weight settled upon him, and Damian thrashed as thick tentacles sucked tight to his arms and seeped poison through the raised skin, making him heavy and boneless and compliant. “Kyle,” he begged, and he screamed when circular rows of teeth drilled into the back of his neck. Not because it hurt-- and it did, it was agonizing-- but because he understood now that, all the times this had happened before, Rayner had just enough control left to make certain Damian wasn’t awake for it. Rayner had been there to soothe him in the aftermath, to speak his pet name with affection and make certain Damian wasn’t alone. But Rayner had finally been expelled from his own body and Damian was alone, alone with Parallax drinking deeply of something he found in the boy’s blood and bones.

More pain than the human body could endure finally resulted in oblivion, and Damian woke to the fire-orange sky of the H’rothian afternoon burning like flame outside the window. His bed linens were dark with spilled blood, and he felt the dried crust on his back crumble as he sat up.

“Kyle!” he cried through his raw throat, because Rayner had to be somewhere, didn’t he? And from the kitchen down the hall came an answer: “Damian, come here.” Rayner’s voice, Parallax’s words.

Damian held himself tall, stone-lipped as he limped into the kitchen, Rayner seated at the head of the table just like any other morning. “Sleep well, Damicito?” He’d made no effort today to disguise Parallax’s rasping maw, the long tongue licking stretched lips as the creature laughed around the endearment. The yellow bulb over his head was lurid now, casting the entire room in its sickly glow.

From his pocket, Damian withdrew a Green Lantern ring: small, made for the hand of a ten-year-old boy. Damian’s fingers were larger now, but it would do. Rayner stood suddenly, chair scraping the linoleum floor with a screech, and Damian slid the ring to his first knuckle, as far as it would go, without knowing what he intended to do. He only knew that there was no longer a risk of hurting Kyle, no longer the hope that staying alive might somehow restore the life of his friend.

A white wave rushed him as soon as the ring bonded to his finger, flooding every sense with energy that coursed through his body in a torrent of blinding clarity. He saw his bright reflection thrown against the burnt orange outside the windowpane, his clothes a blend of a Lantern’s sleek bodysuits and Batman’s scalloped cape; and white, scalding white from head to toe, pouring from hair and feet and fingertips. His eyes glowed with colorless radiance as he held Parallax in his sight, and someone spoke inside his head.

It’ll be okay now, Damicito. I promise this time.

Rayner’s voice, purified of the maddening buzz that stained it when Parallax borrowed it to convince Damian to do his bidding. No, Kyle was right there inside his head now, and Damian understood: each time Parallax had attached to him like a succubus, he’d been transferring Rayner to him with every drop of Damian he drained. Damian Rayner. Kyle had been trying to tell Damian the plan, and Parallax had been furious when he recognized it first.

The creature ripped itself from Rayner’s body, tearing flesh down the middle like rice paper and Damian reeled with his own revulsion as well as Kyle’s horror in watching his body split across the seams. You can stay with me, Damian assured the other presence in his mind, and he could feel Rayner’s smile somewhere around his chest, warm with amusement even now.

“Ion,” Parallax hissed around his thick, rubbery tongue.

It’ll be okay, Kyle told Damian again, and Damian relinquished control to him, to the white supernova that exploded around his core and razed him inside and out.

He was only aware of Ion and Parallax in the periphery of his consciousness as the kitchen was destroyed around them, the home where he’d grown from child to young man disintegrating along with its illusions of normalcy. Damian focused instead on the bare bulb that clung to the remnant of ceiling above him, flashing yellow and white as it swung back and forth, yellow and white, white and yellow--

It exploded in a shower of glass and clear sparks, and its jaundiced light was extinguished at last.

Re: golden glass

Date: 2013-03-26 08:08 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
not the OP but anon this is FANTASTIC

Re: golden glass

Date: 2013-03-26 04:25 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Also not the OP but I am CHILLED by what you did with this prompt! The pervasive yellow and the idea of Damian biding his time for FIVE FUCKING YEARS, good god.

Re: golden glass

Date: 2013-03-27 09:51 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
also not the OP but I cried, I am crying right now, I'm going to think about this for a really long time, it's been burned into my brain as something I wish actually happened, but it's so gloriously beautiful and richly written as it is. wow, just WOW. wowwowow

Re: golden glass

Date: 2013-03-28 02:11 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
So many feels!

Date: 2013-03-22 03:08 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Everyone is infected by an environmental contaminant aboard the Watchtower that causes each person to blurt out everything they're thinking, no filter, no holding back even if they wished they could

Date: 2013-03-22 10:58 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Damian was horrified. At first there had seemed no discernible change made to his usual mode of address and conversational candor, but as the day progressed, he began expressing other sentiments.

"Sometimes when I think Cordelia isn't listening, I assure her that I will never abandon her no matter how naughty she is."

"Grayson, please love me. I can't believe that I'm good unless you love me show me that I am important to you."

"I didn't mean what I just said. And if you cared about me at all, you would understand that."

Eventually he gave up entirely and cloistered himself in a supply closet, eating sour gummies until his stomach ached. At least he wasn't talking to anyone.

Date: 2013-03-22 11:02 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
"No, I'm not okay," Dick said, looking flustered. "I wish you hadn't asked! Now I have to put on a mask and pretend that I am, because I feel responsible for making everybody happy, even though I haven't felt happy in a long time. But you can't tell, right? I'm good at faking. And that's what makes people happy. At least, that's what Bruce taught me."

Dick clapped both his hands over his mouth and ran wildly down the hallway.

Date: 2013-03-22 11:06 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Kate Spencer drank another cup of coffee. Although whether it was to keep herself from accidentally saying anything, or to stifle the jarring realization that even under the duress of external factors making it impossible to dissemble, she still managed to not reveal anything? She wasn't quite sure.

Date: 2013-03-22 11:09 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
"-and then the guy, he - no, wait, I said that part already - oh, yeah but - no, hang on, there was - the guy, right? The guy was standing at the top of the pile of cars like in a movie, the kinds of end-of-the-world - no, wait, there's a word for those, what's the word, c'mon Kyle what's that kind of movie - oh! Right, post-apocalyptic! The cars are all piled up all post-apocalyptic, and he's standing on top, and - remember like Bane? Not real Bane but in the crappy movie Bane, you know I really don't like those movies, but I guess everybody has to bow down before the - I mean they could at least have made him Latin@ but nooooo, and - gosh I wish I had a chocolate eclair right now - and, wait, wait - where was I?"

Date: 2013-03-22 11:14 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
I wonder if Mar'i wants to have lunch? Steph thought. "Hey purple-top! Want to have lunch?" She might want to go somewhere other than the caf. I should tell her about the place with the burgers. "If you want to go somewhere other than the caf, I know this place that serves burgers with deep-fried pickles and ice cream. It's a sweet brine party in your mouth!"

Wash, rinse, repeat.

Date: 2013-03-23 01:30 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
His stomach rumbled. It was an important meeting and all the most powerful League members were there. Superman was in the chairman's seat. But biology sometimes asserts its dominance, no matter the situation. And his stomach was making a lot of noise now.

"This is it. We need all solutions on the table" Kal-El said, turning and looking at him. "What do you think?"

"I think I want some Chocos" J'onn said. No one was surprised.

Date: 2013-03-25 03:38 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Ollie spent his entire infected period holed up in his room, certain that the current functioning state of his nose would never survive interaction with other people.

Source Discovered

Date: 2013-03-25 08:05 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
"I know just about everyone here is gonna give me shit about it" Mia said. "But I have to just come right out and say it. I think Darkseid is sexy!" She immediately cupped her hands over her mouth in horror.

"I do too!" added Stephanie before burying her face in shame.

"I thought I was the only one" Cassie said, sobbing at her admission.

"Yeah, he's pretty dreamy" Bette added in misery.

Cass nodded in agreement while crying.

"I certainly would never turn down a date with him" Bai chimed in through a strained facial expression.

"I know I'd like to get into his legal briefs" Kate Spencer mumbled as quietly as she could.

"Oh, he's dreamy" Mar'i said, angry at herself for voicing this private opinion.

"Someone already said he was dreamy!" Rose said. "But you're fucking right!"

"Ok?" Batwoman said to Wonder Woman. "I think we've narrowed down the source of contaminant."

"Agreed" Diana replied. "I'll let Oliver know as soon as I stop swooning over this picture I have of Darkseid taped to the inside of my locker."

Date: 2013-03-22 12:41 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Dick runs a circus. Various League members work in it for him. One day a clown is found murdered and all circus employees are suspect.

Thicker than Water

Date: 2013-04-20 01:34 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
It always surprised Dick just how much blood could be contained within the confines of a single suit of human skin.

Whenever bones burst from arms and legs or elephants trampled their keepers, Dick would always take a single moment to stare in amazement at the show of blood before him. Dark carmine pools spilling across the different floors of Haley’s Circus had become as commonplace, and yet just as mystical, as the shows that went on inside the tent every night. Whenever Rose put the third sword down her throat or Guy showcased a particularly well-toned muscle, Dick’s mind shot back to those endless piles of human liquid, swirling across brightly painted concrete or hay-covered dirt. His parents lying mangled at the bottom of the arena; Zitka looking at him innocently while blood seeped from her newfound seat cushion—none of these events were singular in Dick’s mind. Long had the accidental violence of circus life created a detached unit of his life that he could hate no more than he could hate fate itself.

And by all reasoning, the clown’s death should have followed this fated pattern. He could’ve fallen from a ladder or gotten mangled in the grip of the moving stadium seating. His body could have been burned like a wax candle by a flaming hoop or his legs cut off by a falling ceiling beam. It had been nearly 4 years since a serious accident; Dick was only waiting to check the pulse and go about his standard protocol.

A torn throat was not protocol.

'Torn' was not even a correct observation of it. ‘Torn’ implied the use of hands to Dick, the way he tore apart overdue bills or tore apart Bette’s prettiest dresses when she angered him. Hands played no role in this clown’s death. Something had ripped apart his white-painted throat from ear to ear, exposing pink mounds of tissues and white cartilage. He had crawled around his small trailer for as long as he possibly could, and Dick walked around carefully, tracing his path. Kate had found him first and now she stood outside the trailer, smoking through an entire pack of American Spirits in an attempt to drown out the image Dick was now reliving.

Kyle had been standing at the kitchen when the first arterial spray had happened. It had covered the small yellowed windows above his sink and when he must’ve turned his head, the second artery was opened. Together they soaked the other wall in deep sanguine, covering up a collage of photos from various moments in his life. Most of them were too soaked in dark dried blood, but Dick managed to pry one out, precariously holding it in front of him by his thumb and forefinger. Kyle, smiling with his partner who worked elsewhere, holding up an elaborately crafted emerald balloon animal. His face tan but youthful, his eyes shut squinted shut the light but still somehow staring back at Dick.

From the kitchen he had fallen to his knees and crawled towards the front door. The blood covered the entirety of the low shelving until he had reached the living room-type area, where it instead sprayed on a faded couch with tacky upholstery and a whole box of unused green balloons. Dick’s mind immediately started trying to plan Christmas decorations for the circus—perhaps a series of garlands?—and only the sound of Kate’s soft sobs drew him back to attention.

“We need to call the police,” she said the moment he stepped off the trailer. She was an outsider, brought in to ensure no one tried to sue when their kids got bit by petting zoo goats or when heatstroke struck patrons in the peak of summer sun. She was talented, but disgraced. She was a circus lawyer, but she was an outsider. She would never understand.

He took the pack of cigarettes from her almost violently and drew a single stick out before tossing it back. It was late August and Gotham was a heatwave that had mated with city pollution. A sick, diseased smell hung on every patron and coated each worker. At night the humidity made the stink wet, like a half-rotted corpse. Dick gave a glance back into the blood-coated trailer.

“Did you hear me?” Kate hissed, shoving a finger into his chest. “What the fuck, Dick, someone slit his goddamn throat and you’re acting like someone just dislocated a shoulder or something!”

He turned to face her, his expression tight and cold. She was an outsider. She would never understand. He ground the remains of his cigarette into the gravel and walked off.

By the time he reached his destination, Mia had stationed herself out front. Her friends, the youngest members of the circus, had also assembled. Out of the corner of his eye he could make out his own daughter, brightly suntanned and barely dressed in her practice leotard. He wanted to talk to her, but it wasn’t one of her lovers on trial today.

Mia’s petite frame seemed multiplied in distress. She hadn’t even removed the empty quiver from practice, slung haphazardly over her small shoulders. And yet she managed to block the entire doorway, her anger and fear palpable in the late evening heat.

“He didn’t do it.” Her voice came out with the intentions of strength but the realizations of fragility. Mia was barely a child. She could cover her immaturity with attitude and demeanor, but with her shoulders squared and tears in her eyes she looked like nothing more than a petulant child to Dick.


“He. Didn’t. Do. It.” Her foot stomped each word into the pressed dirt.

“Mia, listen to m—”

“No, you listen to me! Goddammit, he didn’t do it!”

“There were teeth marks.”

She stopped short, a confused sob catching in her throat. Her knees buckled and only Bai was able to get a hand on her before she fell listlessly onto the ground. The rest of the teens didn’t move. They stared at Dick, burning rebellious eyes into his imitation watch, his off-brand slacks. He was sure Mar’i had told them of the red figures at the end of each month. There was blood all in the water now, but they were still too young to tell his from Mia’s from Kyle’s. So instead they stared, blistering little things filled up to burst with hormones and resentment.

The others had come up now, and Ollie silently, dutifully, scooped his daughter up like a rag doll. She let out only a soft wail of protest before once again going quiet. His eyes as he passed the younger man told Dick all he needed to know—make it quick. The magician and her strongman husband were attempting to call their nephew back to their sides—to help Ollie reduce Dick’s opposition. Zee’s soft voice beckoning to Zach; Clark’s hands open wide. The boy eyed his companions before strolling back to the winning side. Bai’s voice rang out in blurred and outraged tones; Cassie’s hand went to her whip. Rose leaned even more into the shadows, barely visible now except a shock of white hair and a freshly-polished longsword.

Gar came to the door looking more like a martyr than a murderer. All eyes turned to him, shirtless in the putrid heat, as he came slowly down the stairs. Mia let out the first howl of her newfound loneliness, so loud and desperate that Ollie had to press her face into his broad chest to muffle the sound. Dick’s hand clamped around Gar’s arm the moment he was within distance, and together the two men walked towards the end of the boardwalk.

Dick barely recognized the once scrawny boy who had shown up on his doorstop with little money and ample talent in the young man who sat beside him. The late evening sun added little warmth to Gotham’s polluted water as it splashed onto their bare feet.

“Excuse me, sir, would you like to see an animal?” he had asked on that winter day long ago, doing a little bow to a much younger Dick’s bemusement. Now his shoulders were broader than Dick’s and his face was framed by unkempt facial hair. He stared off into the Gotham skyline, lit up from behind by a scorching orange sun. For a long time, neither of them said anything, and the sun descended lower and lower into the sky until their best source of light was the glow of fair rides behind them. At night the circus whirred to life for all to enjoy. All except two.

“I’m glad we met,” Gar began excitedly. “I’m glad you took me in that night and let me join your merry band of freaks.”

Dick didn’t reply. He watched a scum-covered plastic bottle bob against the river’s tide.

“All these things I was able to do because of you; all these people I was able to meet because of you. Hell, I would’ve never even met Mia if you hadn’t convinced Ollie’s group to join. So you’ve done a lot for me, man.”

The plastic bottle became hooked on a conglomeration of rotted fishing net and driftwood.

“That’s why…God, Dick,” Gar’s voice went high and shaky, “that’s why I need to tell you man, even though I know it won’t change anything, I have to tell you what I sa—”

The bullet tore (yes, Dick decided, tore was appropriate) through Gar’s right temple. It came out the other side in a flash of blood and gore that Dick was glad would be washed away by tonight’s incoming storm. The storm clouds were already gathering from the West, and he could hear the distant rumble of thunder. Gar’s body slumped, blood oozing out onto his shoulders and chest. Dick was already standing and brushing off his slacks. He pushed Gar into the river with his foot and watched the green skin and hair soak with dark contaminated water. Dick's mind flew to a cold future December when red and green would mean nothing to him but seasonal decorations.

He had burned his way through half a pack of smokes in the short walk back to the grounds when he first heard Mar’i’s laugh. She had changed into a thin, whimsical little striped dress and was leaning against an empty kissing booth talking to a tall figure in hushed tones. Father and daughter were both utilitarian by nature, but fundamentally different in application. He had been schooled in classical practicality; she had been born into exotic frugality. He spent his days managing a circus of warm blood-filled bodies; she spent hers spinning a personal world of hedonism. Dick squinted against the neon lights to make out the figure opposite her. The angry little boy who spoke only in Arabic in sharp biting phrases and now wore Dick’s old costume? No, Damian would already be in the big tent practicing his routine.

Her eyes flashed in the multicolored lights and looked straight at him. Her companion was still shaded by the peculiar carnival lighting, but his face turned towards Dick as well. The older man paid them no mind as he walked up the three stairs into his own trailer.

Mar’i entered right after him, shedding her flimsy dress for the freshly-pressed costume in silence.

“Who was that?”

She shrugged noncommittally and squeezed herself into tight spandex. He watched her dark purple hair flop back and forth as she worked each limb about in its new bedazzled casing. Long had it been since the happy days when she would tell him about her life and her lovers.

“Come here and I’ll do your bun.”

Her legs were very nearly longer than his, but they folded quickly, almost magically, underneath her as she sunk into the faded carpet in front of the couch. Dick tugged her locks up into a careful plait, then wound it around itself and secured it with bobby pins. Only then did he notice the smear of old blood partially obscured by her hairline.

Her mother’s hair had been dark red, he remembered suddenly, and when it surrounded and covered him during their lovemaking it had been like bathing in blood. His hands froze around Mar’i’s head and her shoulders visibly tensed. Her mother was flashing through his mind now, a veil of blood surrounding orange peel skin and a set of teeth. Two sets of teeth. Kory, apologizing and trying to explain. Mar’i, a baby still growing in her belly. Dick, the monster’s groom watching his life bleed out over years and years.

Mar’i’s head turned now, almost imperceptibly, and her eyes locked on Dick.


Re: Thicker than Water

Date: 2013-04-20 06:00 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Fantastic! The descriptions, the hints of life around the circus, the ending.... I want to read more of this universe!!

Re: Thicker than Water

Date: 2013-04-20 11:18 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
oh wow. This just broke my brain a little. No, a lot.

Re: Thicker than Water

Date: 2013-04-21 01:42 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
I have been thinking about this all day and even making up headcanons for it and omg, I just want more.

Date: 2013-03-22 12:44 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Mia is on a crowded cross-country commercial flight from Star City to Gotham to visit friends when trouble breaks out in the cabin. After a few passenger deaths and quite a bit of panic, the girl archer finally decides that she's had enough of these mother fucking snakes on this mother fucking plane!

Date: 2013-03-22 12:46 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Ghosts are real and the Watchtower is infested. Feel free to include as many horror movie troupes as you want. One request ~ Dami gets haunted in the shower and runs for help!

this ain't no mystery machine - tsundere titans

Date: 2013-03-25 04:48 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
"There is a ghoul in the men's shower facility and I demand that you deal with it immediately!" Damian Wayne could command a surprising amount of imperiousness in his voice even while dripping wet, barefoot, and wrapped in a pretentious child-sized kimono robe, but the group of assorted young people he was addressing just stared at him with no sense of urgency.

"Gosh, we'd like to help you, Damian, but that's not how ghost investigation works," Gar said kindly. "First we have to be hired by the owner of the Watchtower to look into it--"

Mar'i, standing next to Gar with her hands on her hips, nodded earnestly. "And then we have to gather clues and possibly dress up in disguises for a stakeout to catch the ghost!"

"Jinkies," Cassie said, "there's a whole system to it, Damian. Is there a caretaker with a grudge against the owner of the Watchtower?"

"Or at least, like, the head of a rival Watchtower or something?" Zach interjected. Damian rounded on him with such a scowl that Zach recoiled in alarm. "Zoinks! I was just, like, asking, little dude!"

"Ruh-roh," Bai said loudly, and pointed down the hallway where a ghostly figure was watching them. "I need some Speedster Snacks before we deal with this!"

Damian glared at them all and stomped back down the hallway, shoving past the ghost. "WhooOOOOoooOOOOOOooo," it said in a bored tone, rolling its one eye and half-raising an arm.

"You're all idiots," Damian shouted in his wake. But at least he could now complete his shower.
From: (Anonymous)
This is super groovy! But it still doesn't explain why Rose was haunting Damian in the shower in the first place. Is that how she gets her kicks?
Hmm, methinks another prompt might be in order. LOLOL
From: (Anonymous)
I am kind of in love with this.

Date: 2013-03-22 12:48 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
The Justice Lounge is not "Juicy Lounge Entertainment", a porn movie company. They are about to go bankrupt and need to pump out some great films in order to survive.

real hot shit

Date: 2013-03-22 04:43 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
"So," Ollie says, throwing his hands open and puffing hard on his cigar. His rings catch the light and glitter and glint and he snaps his fingers a few times at Dick, who's whispering 'sparkly!' to himself all glassy-eyed. "Focus! We need some Real Hot Shit to get outta this fourth place position we've fallen into. And I want ideas! Come on, we can't have mined out all your dirty fantasies yet!"

"We could do one where I get gangbanged by a group of handsome CEOs..." Dick starts and everybody groans.

"Do you do ANY flicks where you don't get ganged by a bunch of old dudes?" Rose rolls her eye. Dick scowls at her. "You're one to talk!" he says accusingly. "All you do is pirate movies!"

"I'm fuckin' GREAT in those pirate movies!" Rose snarls. "And I have those other movies too. Where I'm that chick from Kill Bill. And the one where I'm Mad Eye Horny."

"Yeah let's not bring those up," Ollie cuts her off hastily. The magic school full of nubile pervs is a good movie, but somehow it ended up being released under its joke filming name of "Dongwarts" and nobody caught it until it was too late. Kate is still dealing with the litigation from the school district in Indiana that mistakenly bought forty copies for its middle-school hygiene classes. "Zauriel, pal, surely YOU have some ideas! You're the most depraved person in here!"

"Sure I got ideas!" Zauriel leaps from his chair, beaming. "We could do one where Zatanna is a spy and she does a sexy dance where she's covered in post-its and strategically removes them and then does nasty things to somebody with a can of spray cheese! And one where Guy is thinking about getting ass implants but the rest of his football team convinces him not to by buggering him and then they win the Superbowl and Guy mounts the coach right there on the 50 yard line! And one where Clark is a parcel deliveryman and he has this package--"

"These are all 'great' ideas," Candy interrupts, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "but why don't we do more girl-on-girl pictures? They always sell and they're not as gross to make." She lolls her tongue out at Kyle for some reason when she says this, covering him in confusion (which is perhaps why she does it).

"I'm for that," Diana declares, then stands up and leaves. The others stare after her for a moment wondering what the hell just happened, until Ollie claps to refocus them. None of this so far has sounded like the elusive Real Hot Shit he's after. "Maybe I should break out the big dogs," he sighs, "and come out of retirement--"

Another groan makes the rounds. "Oliver," Kate says, "we keep telling you. Nobody watches that kind of corny melodramatic bodice-ripper porn anymore. And no offense, sweetie, but you haven't exactly kept yourself in camera ready condition."

"Look, maybe I put on a few pounds--"

Mar'i re-crosses her legs. "And every last inch of you's covered in hair. Nobody goes for the natural look! That shit doesn't sell unless we do movies about bears!"

"Ooooh!" Dick perks up, and Ollie thunders, "We're NOT doing movies about bears, goddammit!"

"Oh, sorry, am I interrupting?"

The group looks over at the doorway, where their new blonde virginal temp is standing, looking perky and holding a notepad. "Hi!" she chirps. "I'm Bette, the new temp? I'm looking forward to starting work today! Except one thing -- this is a clothing company, right? Juicy Couture? Where's all the logo sweatpants and stuff?"

"Oh, we don't..." Dick begins, then trails off as Bette turns to look at him, hearts visibly springing into her eyes. "We don't actually--"

"Yeah, sweatpants, they're all being made at the factory, kiddo," Ollie gets up and goes over to Bette, steering her back through the doorway. "Make us a pot'a coffee, there's a good girl." He shuts the door behind her and rubs his hands together, grinning. "So!" he says. "Which one'a my precious little stars is good at pretending to be a lovestruck virgin who accidentally gets hired at a porn studio?"

Re: real hot shit

Date: 2013-03-22 05:30 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
omg, I'm reading this in public and just about died. WONDERFUL!!!

Re: real hot shit

Date: 2013-03-22 05:49 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
omg this is soo great I'm dying.

Re: real hot shit

Date: 2013-03-23 04:40 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Brown chicken, Brown cow!

Date: 2013-03-22 12:49 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
The League meets the Avengers. Sexy time abounds!

Date: 2013-03-22 12:53 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Gardner gets a "FMK" message and takes in literally. Feel free to decide who his three choices will be.


Date: 2013-04-15 03:54 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
"You don't know," Dick whimpered, nuzzling his face against Guy's broad freckled shoulder as he raised his legs, latching them easily arond Guy's waist with his gymnast flexibility. "You don't know how much I wanted this, wanted it for so long, my Guy."

The sound of that nickname almost brought tears to Guy's kind eyes as he regarded the other,who he had longed for just as much with all his body heart and soul. The time they spent apart ws too cruel, first with Guy's amnesia and forgetting not only their time in Italy and their love for each other but also even the fact that he was gay in the first place. It had struck his heart and cracked it like the Liberty Bell, jagged and down the middle, making it unable to chime his love for Dick any more. Then when Guy finally ws blessed with coming back to his memory and finding Dick was now with Bette, a beautiful and sweet girl had taken his place at Dick's side and in the steeple of his heart the two bells whole and ringing together their love song.

But looking down into the sea blue eyes of his lover, Guy realized that pain was all behind them now. His broken bell heart would be repaired and sealed by this, their love, Dick wrapping his limbs around Guy like a heartbroken child as Guy kissed those plump pink lips tenderly. "I wanted this even more than you, amato," Guy gently corrected Dick, "and for longer, so long, so much pain has pricked my heart!" He could feel Dick's lythe body twisting and rising underneath him, skin soft and warm as Dick said Guy's name over and over. "I was falling," Dick whimpered. "I ws scared there was nobody with your big strong arms to catch me, so lost. I missed you, I never stopped wanting you, lover."

"Now you have me, Dickibird." Guy kissed Dick's lips again and then put his hand down around his length, his body shimmering with the emerald green glow of his Lantern powers. He guided the sticky head to Dick's open entrance and guided it in with a grunt of love as the other accepted this gift fully, giggling with happiness at the feeling of Guy's lentgh filling and stretching him.

"I missed this so much, "Dick whispered shyly, putthing his long fingers at the back of Guy's ginger hair to play with it and hold Guy's head so he could look at the other. The brunette couldnt believe he was so lucky as this, to have his amato back, on top of him and inside him, to look into Guy's loving eyes once more. "My heart is ringin like a bell for you, Dickibird," Guy whispered with love as he pushed into his lover, that place where he longed to be for so long. "And I need to ask you something. After all I have been through with losing everything I ever loved, and having my lovers taken away from me, I can't lose you again ever. Even if something does happen to me, I want to know that the two of us were together, bound together, the way that only holy matrimonly can provide." Two bells in a steeple, Guy thought giddily as he waited with baited breath to see what Dick's answer would be.

Dick gasped, rewinding the questin in his mind. Could he have heard right? Was his biggest dream really coming true, in the arms of the man he had always loved and had never stopped loving deep down inside? "Oh Guy," he gushed, wriggling against the bigger man to take him in deeper, "of course I'll marry you, my lover, my Guy!"

Dropping his head Guy kissed Dick passionately and started the rhythmic motions of passion inside his lover with long firm strokes from his powerful cop's build. Dick squealed with happiness and Guy felt emotions bubbling inside his strong chest threatening to burst him, tears fell from bis eyes at the thought of an eternity with the man he loved. The feel of Dick's body yeilding and pliable under him, giving all its love, made what Guy had done to Bette worth it. He would tell Dick what he had done but only when they were already on their honeymoon. Why spoil it before then.

"I love you more than anything," Dick whimpered. Guy stroked Dick's prostrate with a masterly push and whispered, "No, Dickibird; I love you more."


Date: 2013-04-15 11:28 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
omgggggggg!! I love it. The bell imagery and the ending twist! Everything's wonderful about this.

Date: 2013-03-22 12:56 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
The zeta tubes malfunction and the LEague is trapped aboard the Watchtower when the nuclear apocalypse destroys the Earth. Supplies are running low and oxygen is running out. No rescue attempt is planned - they are on their own.



July 2014


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