#DARK SOULS SPELLS FOR KNIGHT

[errantevelyn]

finally stopped being distracted by new stuff i got in the steam sale and started the Dark Souls 3 half of that drawing of my Elden Ring & Dark Souls 3 versions of the same character. i definitely wasted time doing that chainmail detail im probably not gonna carry over to the proper lineart of this but i'm really happy with how it and the lightning bow looks so i can have a little extra work, as a treat

[valehour]

Dark souls 3's worst mechanic is it's absolutely fucking abysmal covenant item drop rates. Please. Miyazaki, grant me mercy

[imaginesbymonika]

Not a violent dog | Part 2

Pairing: Logan x fem!Reader

Plot: Back in Wade's world Logan meets someone he thought he would never ever see again.

Warnings: slight spoilers for Deadpool 3!!!! mentions of death, angst, cursing, and fluff at the end if you squeeze your eyes at the screen, I haven't written in A WHILE so bear with me

Previous Part

“Come on!”, Wade groaned before he threw himself on the old couch, and it made a squeaky sound:” Admit it, you missed me!” He keeps his head low as he peeks up at you through non-existent lashes. You only roll your eyes at his behavior:” I’m already missing the quiet.”. A blatant lie. God only knows how fucking worried you were when he abruptly vanished. It brought back old feelings, and you certainly weren’t a fan of that.

You sit down next to him when his expression suddenly shifts. It’s not often that you see Wade concerned, even though you know that his sarcasm and comedy are nothing more than a coping mechanism. It’s like looking into a mirror. “What’s wrong?”, you question him, swallowing thickly while you study his features for any clues:” Why did you need to see me…alone?” It was an odd phone call to receive at 3 in the morning.

Wade clears his throat:” I told you about saving the universe, right? And before you drop to your knees to thank me like the maid thanks her knight in shining armor. I have to tell you something important.” You run a hand down your face and sigh softly:” God, I miss the silence so much.”

“I didn’t save this world alone…”, he declares, twisting his body to fully face you:” I had help. And that help is living with me from now on and I just cannot keep him in my room the entire time whenever you’re around- even though that’s kinda sexy, now that I'm thinking about it. As if he’s my mistress...” You only blink at him in pure perplexity.

“I- I just need you to meet him, okay?”, he rises from his spot beside you and walks towards the door to his room. “Wade…”, you observe his every move and lean back:” Did you kidnap a stripper? Again?! I swear to God, I-.” But when he opens the door and does a hand motion notifying that whoever’s in the room can come out now you turn silent.

A sixth sense you hadn’t felt in a long time begins to limp its way out from some dark and quiet spot inside your soul and towards the surface.

“Come on.”, Wade makes a few more hand movements, almost as if he is calling a… cat?“You can do it, kitty.” Your breath hitched in your throat, and something inside of you is arising again from a long, and deep slumber- it aches terribly. If someone asked you to guess who was inside that room, you could nod but not give them a name. Your heart was carved in with the name of a lover you tried your hardest to forget.

And a second later he comes into view. “Now, please keep in mind that this Logan is from another universe.”, your friend clarifies, while he slowly moves in front of him. Almost as if he attempts to shield him from whatever reaction you were about to give him. But you don’t move.

There’s a longing look on Logan’s face. His fingers twitch now and then. “Y/N.”, your name leaves his mouth like a prayer. Like some sort of spell that hasn’t been used in decades. Smooth like honey, and dripping off his lips onto the filthy carpet. You yearn to drench in it. After all, you haven’t heard it in such a long time, it feels like you are listening to it for the first time all over again. And you finally rise to your feet.

Wade swallows thickly and turns to attend to the empty air:” What do you guys think she’s about to do? Do you think they’re going to fuck on the carpet? No… Disney wouldn’t allow that. What a fucking shame! It’s Stucky all over again.”

It takes you a few seconds to react, but once you finally do you only turn around and scan the room for a trash can before you eventually rush to the nearest and throw up. Wade tilts his head and sighs:” Well, that’s disappointing.”

“Y/N.”, Logan quickly walks up to you but you snap your head at him and hiss. “That’s so Cat claw coded.”, the bald man whispers before he makes his way towards you. “Don’t fucking touch me!”, you shout at Logan. And you can sense all the bitterness and anger and hatred boil inside your veins.

“What the fuck, Wade?!”, you yell at him as you stand up from the ground:” What the actual fuck?! You couldn’t just fucking warn me?! Couldn't have told me this over the phone?!” Tears are streaming down your face and they make your friend take a step back. You have never cried in front of him before. “What the fuck?!”, it’s the final thing you declare before you storm out of the apartment.

[jessamine-rose]

˖⋆˚♱ଘ Angel’s Tears ଓ♱˚⋆˖

*cries* I thought I was done with Church AU after Priest! Dottore yet here I am with more unholy ideas. Welp, Guardian Angel! Capitano x Nonbeliever! Darling, here we go (；ω；)

Tw:: yandere, psychological trauma, blood, violence, death, religious abuse, MDNI

Note:: fictional depictions of religion

♡ 3.8k words under the cut ♡

♡ From the moment of their creation, angels are classified into the Nine Orders. This hierarchy determines their roles in Heaven and Earth, with higher ranks assigned greater levels of power and authority. A special exception is The Strongest Angel, an individual who is neither a Seraph nor an angel from the First Sphere. Rather, the moniker belongs to Il Capitano, the leader of the Powers.

♡ The legitimacy of his title has never been questioned. As a warrior angel, Capitano’s purpose is to vanquish evil. He is the chivalrous knight in bloodstained armor, the nigh-invincible being who strikes fear into the hearts of demons, the ever-righteous angel bound by a paradoxical duty to partake in violence for the sake of everlasting peace.

♡ It is in a small town in Mondstadt, following his victory over a legion of demons, that Capitano encounters you. It is the hour of mass yet you are nowhere near the Church; rather, you have taken sanctuary in a secluded meadow. A book sits on your lap, not a religious text but a tale of dark fantasy. There is a saintlike quality to your countenance, an air of melancholy as delicate as the flowers which surround you.

✿ ⚘

The moment Capitano appears before you, all peace leaves the meadow.

No, this isn’t right. It is normal for humans to feel fear in the divine presence of angels, yet he is donning his human guise. Nonetheless, as soon as his shadow touches your form, you look up and suppress a shriek, your face losing its veil of apathy.

So what exactly did he do wrong?

For your benefit, he remains rooted to his spot. Clarity comes in the form of your gaze flitting to your book, its title printed on the cover in conspicuous letters, the whispers which leave trembling lips.

“I…I can explain! This book—it’s just fiction! There are no real curses or spells inscribed in the text; it doesn’t promote any form of blasphemy!”

Ah, now he understands. You weren’t afraid of him.

Carefully, Capitano takes a step forward and raises his hand in a calming gesture. A gentle expression adorns his false face.

“Be not afraid.”

✿ ⚘

♡ It doesn’t take long for him to understand your wariness. A glimpse into your soul, paired with your quiet explanation, tells the story of an orphan raised by the Church. Only, your Church is one of many founded on distorted beliefs, of violence preached in the name of a cruel god. As a result, your upbringing was marked by strict rules, corporal punishments, and sermons which painted the image of a hopeless child with a weakness for temptation.

♡ Knowing this, Capitano can’t fault you for forsaking God and your Church. Still in his human guise, he promises his silence and leaves the meadow. But once he returns to Heaven, his first course of action is to apply for a position as your guardian angel. It is an easy process—while that role is typically reserved for the lower ranks, there is no shortage of humans in need of spiritual guidance and protection. He only questions why an angel wasn’t assigned to you when you were in greatest need of one.

♡ Henceforth, Capitano becomes a recurring character in your life. Every week, he visits you in the meadow. When you ask for his identity, he claims to be a progressive believer from another town. But rather than enlighten you with the true Word of God, he simply keeps you company and indulges your “vices,” leading to hours spent reading together. Beyond those meetings, he also watches over you to ward off any demons or humans seeking to harm you.

♡ From your end, you slowly warm up to your mysterious companion. He is a man of few words, but his actions always convey a sense of kindness. And despite his faith, he genuinely respects your beliefs and accepts you as you are. At one point, he even gives you a special gift, a quill pen of exceptional quality. The feather, pure white with a soft radiance, must have been sourced from a rare bird of prey.

♡ Over time, however, something changes. Capitano can’t deny that the faults lies with him. His visits, his constant thoughts of you, the ever-blurring line between want and duty…nothing of his behavior can be attributed to an angel’s inherent love for humanity. If that were the case, his love wouldn’t beget heartache. His love wouldn’t beget the temptation to harm others, rooted not in the name of justice but for your own safety. His love wouldn’t beget lust, guilt, dishonor, desires so sinfully evocative of his own fallibility.

♡ The truth is, you were never in need of spiritual salvation. From the moment he first laid eyes on you, what Capitano saw was a pure soul—a good person unlikely to commit evil nor fall into true temptation. Moreover, he knows that your sin of disbelief is forgivable unlike your Church’s sins of violence. That so long as you remain as you are, your soul will not be denied paradise, albeit in a realm of Heaven beyond Capitano’s jurisdiction. So why is he incapable of leaving your side?

✿ ⚘

“I had a long, long dream. I dreamed that you and I met again in the pure white world that we created.”

As you read the final line, your gaze leaves the book and returns to Capitano.

“What did you think of the story?”

Your shoulder brushes against his own, a tempting sensation. It is all he can do to remain still, to think against seeking out more of your touch, to remind himself that your close proximity is a mere necessity for your current activity.

The left side of the book, bearing the story’s ending, rests in your left hand. The other side is held in Capitano’s right hand, a blank page devoid of hope for a happy ending. When he turns the page, you seamlessly catch it under your thumb to show the next page.

Who knew of the casual intimacies imbued in the act of reading together?

“It was a well-written novel,” he says simply. “Though her sins tarnished her honor, Rosalyne’s sacrifice was an act of love. Her loss did not hinder her faithfulness to Rostam.”

“I feel the same way,” you muse. “Now I understand why this book was banned centuries ago. Forbidden love between angels and humans…it certainly goes against what the Church taught us about angels. I have to give the author credit for their imagination.”

It’s just the two of you again, this time in the library. At the start of winter, you invited Capitano to your workplace. There, in your greatest show of trust, you brought him to a secret room dedicated to texts banned by the Church for promoting “blasphemy.” Fantasy, erotica, anti-Church publications, first editions of censored books, stories which merely deviated from the Church’s popular depictions of spiritual beings.

Molten Moment belongs to the last category. Little do you know that it was based on a true story, that the author had really formed a pact with a demon called La Signora. Capitano himself is mentioned in the story under his true name.

He was one of the few angels who noticed the changes in Rosalyne’s behavior. She used to be a Throne, an angel with no connection to Earth nor humanity. Yet by some twist of fate, she laid eyes on a brave knight from Mondstadt and began to meet him in her human guise.

He was the first to hear of Rosalyne’s sin, that being she saved Rostam’s life during a battle. It was a direct violation of God’s orders: Angels and demons may influence humans, but they are forbidden from directly altering a human’s lifespan.

He was a silent witness to Rosalyne’s descent. She fell from Heaven, burned by her own flames, yet she had never appeared more ecstatic. In the following years, she married Rostam and lived a happy life with him on Earth.

He was the last to recognize Rostam’s soul at the pearly gates, forever separated from his fallen lover. Such had been Rosalyne’s divine punishment, worsened by her knowledge of this possibility. But what else was she to do? To let Rostam know of her true nature? To drag his soul down to Hell, where he’d be subjected to an eternity of undeserved suffering?

Capitano is no fool. As he read Molten Moment, he began to understand Rosalyne’s sin in a new light. Half the time, he couldn’t even concentrate on the text, his human eyes repeatedly drifting to your intense reading expression.

He closes the book, leaving it in your sole grasp. But before he can stand up from the sofa, you scoot closer and lean your weight on him. The book is placed on a nearby table, forgotten.

“Do you mind?” you whisper. Your right hand, empty since the prologue, traces his left hand.

A moment of silence precedes his response. “You may.”

Wordlessly, you take his hand and intertwine your fingers. A gesture of intimacy, an unspoken confession. Yet as he savors your touch, Capitano wonders if you would harbor the same level of comfort around his true form.

He doubts it. As a Power, he bears an inhuman appearance on par with that of his superiors. It is his true image which has earned him the title of monster by witnessing humans.

Still, he allows himself to indulge in the blessing that is your oblivion. When you look into his two human eyes, there is a soft light in your gaze wholly free of fear.

“Spring is coming soon,” you mutter. “I can’t wait to see the flowers again. Come to think of it, there’s a variety of narcissus which grows only in late spring. It’s very pretty.”

Against his better judgment, Capitano strengthens his grip on your hand. “Shall I take it as an invitation to resume our meetings in the meadow?”

“Sure.” That is when you look up, a small smile adorning your face. “And if you can’t visit for whatever reason, I’ll pick a bouquet and preserve it for you.”

For once, Capitano is rendered speechless.

Rarely do you ever smile. Even to him, you retain your listless disposition—whether it is out of habit or lingering distance, he has yet to discern your reasons. But that is what makes it all the more special, those few instances when he is beholden to your expressions.

He wonders if this is what humans feel in the divine presence of angels, when they are borne witness to all things holy and beautiful.

Your smile is a phenomenon reserved only for the worthiest of souls. And in your grace, he has never felt more undeserving.

✿ ⚘

♡ At the end of winter, a religious war is authorized by the Church of Mondstadt. Shortly after the news reaches your town, Capitano informs you that he will be busy with “work.” He says it during another reading date, featuring Heart of Clear Springs. Before leaving, he kisses your hand and gives you a kind smile. There is a sad look in his eyes, but you don’t inquire further.

♡ In late spring, your town is attacked. With the entire area under fire, from your home to the meadow, you find yourself running back to the sacred building which you’d avoided for years. After all, though the enemy soldiers belong to a different denomination, they still worship the same god as you. In the present, the church is the only place on Earth where you can claim asylum and pray for your survival.

♡ Except every entrance is locked, including the doors to the orphanage. As the army reaches the town square, all you can do is bang on the front doors and beg to be let in. From inside, you can hear the voices of the people that luckily attended mass before the invasion. Some tell you to hide elsewhere, others beg you for forgiveness, a few sound like the nuns and caretakers who tormented you in the past.

♡ Before you can think of another sanctuary, a soldier strikes you. Pain…it has never felt more intense. Through your fading consciousness, you register your body falling and your head hitting the concrete. Blood pools from your forehead and trickles down the steps of the church, tainting it red.

♡ Life flashes before your eyes in a blurry sequence. The static images of God, sermons and bruises, unanswered prayers, people who never believed you or simply didn’t care. A birthday celebrated with your departure from the Church. Sanctuary found in the library followed by the meadow. Yet the numbness remained, each day bleeding into the next in a gloomy haze. In all those years, did you ever feel God’s love?

♡ It doesn’t matter at this point. A small part of you wonders if you should have retained your faith, continued your prayers, sought out salvation in the safety of your solitude. At least then, at the hour of your death, you wouldn’t be confronted with the fact of your humanity. The primal fear of death, the spiritual fear of ending up in Hell no matter Capitano’s reassurances.

♡ Capitano…where is he? Weakly, you call out to him but he doesn’t appear. Of course, why would he? You should feel thankful; it means he is probably safe, wherever he is. Still, you can’t help but wish he were here—if not to save you, as he has done by simply keeping you company, but to comfort you one last time. And those are the thoughts which plague you in your final moments, an unheard prayer on the tip of your tongue.

“I pray that we meet again, myself and the first person who truly loved me.”

♡ ______ died on a cloudy day, one of many people persecuted in the name of God. After the Church was destroyed and its followers slaughtered, their body was buried in a mass grave that once flourished with nature. There was a poignant quality to their countenance, an air of distress as transient as the flowers planted above them.

♡ At least, that is how your story ends from the perspectives of the survivors. But to the angels and demons who witnessed the destruction of your town, your death was only the end of a chapter in your life. In their eyes, Capitano had been present all throughout, an invisible witness to your death, absolute in his refusal to perform an unauthorized miracle.

♡ He remained by your side until the light faded from your eyes. That was when he took notice of the bouquet of narcissus clutched in your hand, tainted with blood despite your feeble efforts to save his gift. A soldier approached your corpse, intending to drag it down the steps for burial; but before they could touch you, Capitano appeared before them.

♡ It was only for a brief second, but the soldier drew back and cowered in fear. In the following days, they were haunted by the memory of the angelic figure who appeared outside the Church of Mondstadt. Or more precisely, the monster who prayed over a bloodstained corpse and took a bouquet of ruined flowers out of their grasp.

✿ ⚘

From the moment you wake up, all peace leaves the meadow.

What happened? Your memory comes back in hazy fragments—death, darkness, blinding light, pearly gates, ethereal figures. Most vivid is the sensation of strong arms and soft feathers, a familiar warmth which accompanied you throughout your journey.

As for your current surroundings, you are in a meadow so beautiful that it brings to mind the Garden of Eden. Flowers of every variety bloom across the scenery, some out of season. The sky is bright, sunless, a canvas of multiple colors. There are no other signs of life.

Internally, too, something feels off. A nearby pond provides a glimpse of your reflection—white garments, gold scars in place of your fatal injuries, your disoriented countenance. If this place is what you think it is…shouldn’t you feel at peace, happy even? And why are you alone?

Your gaze lands on a patch of flowers. Pure white, perianth petals, cup-shaped coronas…the same type of narcissus which grew in your favorite meadow. The flowers point in different directions, as though searching for a sun that does not exist.

“You are awake.”

A shadow touches your form, engulfing you in darkness. It bears a large, unrecognizable shape but such details evade you as you recognize the voice behind you.

“Capitano!” Immediately, you turn around, only to gasp and suppress a scream.

The person before you…can you even call him human? He is incredibly tall, to the point that you must crane your neck to see his face—assuming there is one beneath his iron mask. His body is clad in silver armor, stained blood in some places. A halo, shaped like a crown of thorns, shines behind his head.

But what shocks you are his wings. A single pair covered in radiant white feathers and eerily dark blue eyes. Each eye seems to glow with an uncanny aura.

Dark blue eyes with a striking resemblance to Capitano’s. What more for his long black hair and his solemn manner of speaking?

It doesn’t make your revelation any less unsettling.

“Capitano.” Your voice comes out in a nervous whisper. “Is it really you? You’re a…”

“An angel,” he confesses. He takes a step back, widening the distance between your bodies. “I ask that you pardon my appearance. Such was my sacrifice—for my true form, in all of its monstrosity, to be my sole image.”

His human face comes to mind, along with the kind gaze you fell in love with.

You feel the weight of multiple gazes on you. “What do you mean?”

“Is this realm to your satisfaction?” he asks. “I beseeched God to create a special paradise for you, cut off from the rest of Heaven. The price is that your capacity to feel negative emotions remains in this realm…though that is preferable.”

Preferable? How so? Right now, you can barely process what he is telling you. You are dead. Your companion is an angel. Your soul is in paradise, but not exactly.

After everything you’ve been through, you were still deemed worthy of a place in Heaven.

“I am sorry.”

Capitano’s voice brings you back to reality. He has never sounded more serious, emotional, repentant. And when you look up…

Is he crying?

Most of his eyes remain open, focusing on you with a fervent stare. But others are downcast, as if unable to face you. And a few appear glossy, blinking back iridescent tears.

“I am truly sorry.” He bows his head in shame, wings folded. “What I did to you was cruel, an absolute injustice.”

You don’t know which eyes to make contact with. “You—”

“It must have been painful,” he continues. “Even if I were to justify my actions, the truth lies in the fact that I tolerated your suffering for my own selfish desires. And that is why I ask not for your forgiveness, knowing I am the one at fault.”

Silence. In light of Capitano’s confession, all you can do is stare at him and comprehend the weight of your situation. What exactly are you supposed to feel, knowing his betrayal? Knowing that regardless of your feelings, you have nowhere else to go in the afterlife?

Yet despite it all, your prayer came true. The two of you were able to meet again.

And that is what compels you to take a step forward, to come closer until you are standing in front of him. “Hey, it’s…don’t cry.”

A delicate sensation blesses his wings—your hands carefully tracing his feathers to wipe away his tears. Several eyes widen in surprise, but all he can see in your gaze is sympathy.

“I’ll admit, it was painful,” you tell him. “Dying alone. But maybe it’s…better this way. If I survived, I’d have to deal with the loss of my home. And who knows what kind of living hell the other Church would’ve put me through?”

Above all, Capitano is the only person whose love you can believe in.

Hesitantly, you take his hand and intertwine your fingers. The next words to leave your lips are spoken with certainty, bringing fresh tears to his eyes.

“I’m sure it was an act of love on your part.”

His reaction is sudden, incurring your surprise. But all you can do is surrender to Capitano’s embrace, allow his free arm to hold your waist and pull you closer to him. His wings wrap around you, caging you in soft feathers and eerie blue orbs.

“Capitano?” You can only look up at him, peering into the contents of his mask.

…It’s like staring into an abyss, a night sky dotted with twinkling blue stars. But in the absence of a human likeness, his words express what a face cannot.

“Never again,” he vows, “shall I allow harm to befall you. That is a promise.”

The hand on your waist moves upwards to caress your face. His touch is light, more hesitant than his previous gestures.

“You need not serve God nor partake in fruitful labor like the other souls in Heaven. All I ask is that you rest, indulge yourself, enjoy this paradise to the fullest.”

A flower is pinned to his armor, right above his heart. You recognize it instantly—a narcissus in full bloom, stained with your blood.

“If you desire a flower, it shall grow at once. If there are any books you would like to read, they shall be brought to you shortly.”

What was the name of that variety again? Narcissus triandrus. Angel’s tears.

“If you are in need of my presence, I shall appear before you, so long as I am not in the midst of battle. And should you ever desire the opposite, I can promise my distance.”

When Capitano looks into your eyes, all he can see is his own reflection. Whatever emotion colors your gaze, it casts his true image in a compassionate light.

“I shall do everything in my power to bring you joy for all of eternity. Such will be my penance.”

“...All right.” With that, you close your eyes and lean into his touch. He feels warm, comfortingly familiar. “I’ll trust you on that.”

Rest in peace, ______.

Think not of your mortal body in the beginning stages of decay.

Think not of your tormentors who are paying for their sins in Hell.

Think only of eternity with your beloved savior.

♡

More Church AU here!! Dottore ๑ Arlecchino ๑ Pantalone ๑ Pierro ๑ Dainsleif

Note:: Please do not send me any Church AU asks/ requests involving other characters or dynamics who are not listed in my masterlist.

Aahhhh it's done....this idea turned out much heavier than expected, but I'm glad that I was able to write this!! I hope you all cried over enjoyed the story of Angel! Capitano and his damsel. They were truly a delight to write for~

Tag a Capitano enjoyer!! @diodellet @navxry @leftdestiny-posts @beloved-blaiddyd @bye-bye-sunbird @yandere-romanticaa @harmonysanreads @mochinon-yah @oofasleep @micchikari @whispereons @thescribeoflostmemories

[sheegons]

OKAY SO WHO ASKED FOR A POST THAT DETAILS DAMIANS CONNECTIONS TO MAGIC?.. nobody? oh okay.

(be forewarned, this is long)

now after ignoring batman 666, let's see what we have.

ROBIN: SON OF BATMAN (2015)

now, in robin: son of batman #1 It's confirmed that after his death in batman incorporated, damian went to hell. Hell is usually connected with the more magical side of the dc universe, but that's not it.

The entirety of the comic delves into damians connections to more mystical things. mythical swords and magical ancient towers, weird extinct bat-dragons, magical cults that want to destroy the whole world, etc etc.

this is easily regarded as one of damians best comics and having peak damian characterisation, so obviously Damian being magically inclined can easily work well with his character.

Now, after a barrel load of compliments, let's get to the extremely negative side of things.

TEEN TITANS (2016)

Damian's cloned brother has magic and that sentence is about as much as i care for this book. Moving on.

BATMAN (2016)

Again, dog shit damian characterisation, but here we go. Damian here actually shows an ability to use a binding spell and has a wand, making some sort of deal with a random demon, but a far cry from damian apparently selling his soul in batman 666. Moving on finally out of rebirth because that was a bad time for Damian's character.

ROBIN (2021)

Now we go back to the good. Apparently from the maternal part of damians family, magic is more commonplace. ra's even having a whole spell book to his name. Robin 2021 kinda toys with the ghul family and the lazarus pits magical and devilish side which isn't new... but it's new to involve damian!

In the final parts of this story, Damian's heart specifically is used as a plot device, lord deathman even dubbing it as "the bloodstream of the demon" and ruh (ra's' mother) uses it as a power source to fuel demon summonings, which started the Lazarus rain event.

TEEN TITANS DARK (Unreleased)

Back in early 2023 (i think) dc teased a sort of "teen titans dark" with damian, black alice and monkey prince. The "dark" moniker referencing Justice league dark, a magic team made up of magic users that solve magical bullshit. It's a good book, recommended read, i just thought I'd add this to the pile.

Detective comics/Knight terrors

Now, including these two together because they're about the same topic: Dreams.

damian is confirmed to have some sort of control over dreams and sleep, defeating demons that show up in his sleep, yet never actually disappear when he wakes up. He also has an ability to stay awake after a massive worldwide phenomenon causes everyone, even the dream masters that taught damian, to sleep and experience night terrors.

Dreams are, again, connected to the magical side of the dc universe. Now I'm not going to pretend like i actually read sandman to you, i can't lie on ramadan, so let's all give me a pass here for my lack of understanding of all that.

Batman and robin (2023)

In this, damian mentions a bit of off screen monster hunting with Frankenstein and lays a trap that lights someone on fire. I used to think this was some sort of hex but this artwork is extremely unclear, but since Frankenstein is mentioned and from my knowledge dc's Frankenstein is magic let's pretend this is some sort.

As an extra note: this guy definitely died. There's no way about it, he got lit on fire with nobody helping him. He's gone. Damian just killed a man.

Extra Extra notes:

talia using magic!

now, i haven't included these examples in the "the ghuls have magic" segment because uh...

(batman: the doom that came to Gotham/dc bombshells)

yeah...

Not only are these interpretations of talia EXTREMELY orientalist but also just generally out of character and could've been done with any randomly introduced characters.

For the unknowing white american people in the crowd: arabs actually don't only dress in revealing "belly dancer" outfits and lanterns. i know, shocking, we actually wear normal clothes.

And just to add again, there's a lot of stories that include ra's having magic, but I'm not the biggest ra's head (lol) so i didn't read them all, i implore u to do your own research because I'm not doing it.

this about wraps it up. thank you to the magic damian believers may we all win someday.

[astroboots]

Can we just think about somno/cock warming with Steven for a quick sec? Like imagine getting sweet doe eyed Steven semi hard to sink down onto him just to sleep. Waking up to the poor man whimpering and begging for you. Lord take my soul now.

Summary: Steven is preoccupied by a research task for Marc that keeps him away from bed with you. You decide to keep him warm until he's done in the most distracting way possible.

Word Count: 2,850

Content: somnophilia, cockwarming, overstimulation.

ASTROBOOT’S MASTERLIST | MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST

It's dark in his flat, the only light is coming from the small desk lamp in the corner and the blue aquarium lighting from the fish tank that bathes everything in a shade of pale neon blue.

The rain is pitter-pattering against the large windows. There is a faint scraping sound of pages being turned every so often.

You're lying in bed, head propped up against your pillow, as you try to keep your eyes open and observe Steven where he's hunched over his desk that's filled with piles and piles of books that he's completely consumed by. He's drowning in the books. Face practically pressing up against the ink that you're convinced will leave smudges on his soft cheeks. His outdated librarian glasses are slipping down the arch of his nose.

"Steven," you murmur sleepily, asking him for the third (or is it the fourth time tonight?) to come join you in bed.

But you get the same reply you got last time. A gentle hum, followed by, "in just a minute, almost finished love."

You give it another minute, then two-- until a good half hour must have passed before you call out for him again.

"Steven."

The only response you get from his is a distracted hum. He doesn't look up.

"Come to bed," you try again, but it's a lost cause.

Ordinarily, you barely have to finish the second syllable of his name before Steven's head pops up like a meerkat, with his alert and undivided attention focused all on you.

In the rare times he didn't, you'd certainly get his attention by the time you finished the first repetition of his name.

Tonight though?

This is probably the fourth or fifth time for the evening you've asked for him.

You're… annoyed to say the least.

With a heavy sigh, you raise yourself into a sitting position in the bed.

"What is so important it can't wait until morning?"

It comes out just a tad sharper than you had meant it to.

That seems to finally snap Steven out of his trance.

He looks up from his book, turning in your direction as his eyes flicker over to you with a wide-eyed expression of surprise. Like someone's just stirred him from a spell.

"Oh! Sorry sorry," he closes the book in front of him and holds it up to you.

"Marc needed me to decode the location of some ancient map, and it's a bit more complicated than we thought. It's a bit like a treasure hunt, quite fun actually. We're trying to retrace the steps of Hargrave Marks, he's an archaeologist from the 60s, who had this detailed journal of his treks. But I also have to cross-reference it with several history books cause the accounts aren't exactly contemporaneous or accurate even for the time it was written. Hargrave had a tendency to opt for good storytelling instead of accuracy and--"

His excited ramble pewters out as you cross your arms across your chest. It's rather hostile, you realise when you see him bite his lip in worry at the sight and follow up with a much quieter: "Sorry, love.. am I being too loud? Am I keeping you up?"

There's an apologetic smile on his lip, and normally that would be enough to make any traces of irritation thaw and melt into dew. You're soft for Steven that way.

But this time, his cluelessness at the source of your irritation only serves to make you more irritated.

"No, that's hardly the issue. I want you to come to bed with me."

You can admit that you're acting spoiled.

Because you are spoiled. Used to being spoiled rotten by Steven's profuse adoration. The way he constantly showers you with his affection and full attention at all times. It's probably why it feels like something that is rightfully yours (him) has now been unfairly ripped from you by someone else (Marc), and you're not happy about it, childish and unreasonable as it may be.

And poor Steven, he looks genuinely torn, eyes flittering between you and the book pages. Hesitation etched over the line between his brows, his eyes lingering at the reflection of the TV screen for a few conspicuous seconds too long (Marc).

Whatever Marc is saying to Steven, has him sheepishly ducking his head back down towards the books.

"It might take a while longer," he murmurs, eyes not meeting yours. "Maybe half an hour? Or an hour? If you're sleepy you shouldn't stay awake for me. I'll make it up to you tomorrow. I promise."

You lie back down on the mattress with a huff as you turn away from him. Trying to shut out the white noise of his pen scribbling away as the pages continue to turn.

Mad as you may be. It's cosy and warm underneath the sheets. And you had a long day at work. It doesn't take you long to fall asleep. The odds were against you. You don't know how long you are out for, but you wake to the weight of the bed shifting.

Blinking your bleary eyes open, you see Steven with one knee clambering into bed, books strewn all across the mattress, and another half dozen huddled up in his arms, and a pen tucked behind each ear.

"I'm sorry, love. This was taking longer than I thought, and I hate being away from you. I didn't mean to wake you up."

God, this sweet adorable man. All at once, guilt washes over you for having been so harsh to him earlier.

Stretching out your arms, you wrap them around his back and curl one hand around the back of his neck as you pull him down to you, relishing the small "oof" sound he makes as he plops down on top of you with a soft thud against the mattress, books landing somewhere besides you both.

"You finished?" you ask.

He shakes his head, apologetically. "Not quite yet, sorry. But I thought I could maybe do the rest in bed? That way I can at least be close to you. If you don't mind? I'll try to be very quiet."

You hum, pressing your face into the warm crook of his neck. He's so soft and warm. Comforting and steady. You draw in your breath and you're not sure if you're imagining it, but he has that familiarly pleasant smell that reminds you of a bookshop. Notes of coffee and a freshly turned page. Drawing up your lips, you mouth a small path along the line of his neck, and relish the keen little sound that he makes. A quiet little whine as his hips hitch up and press up against your legs.

"Lo-love that's-- oh god that feels--wait, I still--" he's babbling, the way he always does when your lips are on him.

You nip at the soft skin with your teeth, not enough to hurt, just with enough strength that you know will have his toes tingling as he tries to curl them against the sheets for reprieve.

"Wait," he murmurs, even though he's the one who's bearing down his weight down against you, the outline of his cock pressed up against the softness of your stomach, separated only by the comforter. "I--I need," he licks his lips, trying to find his words. Eyes glazed in a way that tells you the blood in his head has travelled south, and his capacity for speech is quickly going with it.

You hum softly, one hand travelling between your torsos as he hisses sharply at the touch of your hand when it brushes up against his clothes then underneath, your knuckles dragging against the bare skin of his soft belly. "Hmm? Need what Steven?"

Reaching for his waistband, you slip your hand into his boxers. He's already half-hard, and still rising as if to meet your fingers as you wrap them around the girth of his cock, and he gasps brokenly with a half-strangled noise.

"Tell me what you need," you remind him.

His pupils are blown wide as he swallows, Adam's apple constricting against that graceful throat. He's trying to find his words again.

"I need to finish my reading. I promised Marc."

"So finish, I'm not going to stop you."

Steven's gaze darts downwards between your body, to where your hand is still wrapped around him under his sleeping pants, with a pointed look in an unspoken accusation that you are in fact: stopping him.

His cock twitches in your grip. You can feel the slick wetness of precum leaking down from the blunt tip, trickling down your knuckles even as Steven is trying very hard not to react.

You can't help the smile that spreads on your lips as you tilt your head up, until they're brushing against his sensitive ear, letting your breath fan against the shell of it as you speak.

"Don't let me distract you, keep going, keep reading. Finish your work." You're still holding him in one hand, as the other moves to the waistband clinging to his backside and drag it down.

You let your nails gently graze along his spine, round hips and thick thighs as you do, enjoying the way he shivers defenselessly under your touch.

"Uhm, love-- you're--"

It doesn't take much encouragement or strength on your part. You grab hold of his hips as you roll him onto his back, and he lets you. No resistance on his part, as you straddle his hips, palms braced on his chest to steady yourself.

"I'm what Steven?"

The tip of his tongue, pink and glistening darts out in a nervous habit against his lower lip.

"No-nothing, nothing..." he manages. Words slurred and clumsy in his mouth as his hands grip onto your thigh as if he never wants to let you go.

It's all you can do, not to laugh. Whatever promises he had made Marc, it seems to have flown out of the cuckoo's nest.

You really should let him finish his work for Marc though, it won't do to make Mr. Grouchy even grouchier. Problem is you're not quite ready to let go of Steven or to relinquish his attention that you've finally earned from him this evening.

Dragging your hand, you let it caress the soft cotton of his shirt from his chest to his stomach then further down as you grip his cock again.

"Don't worry, let's make a compromise" you say as you stroke his cock up and down the fully hardened length as it twitches and jumps in your grip.

Steven is already nodding forcefully before he's even heard what he's agreeing to. You grip his cock angling it between your thighs and you can hear the soft gasp erupting from his mouth as the tip catches against your slick entrance.

"Keep reading, and when you finish--" you tilt your hips, sliding down in a slow and steady pace. The pleasure is sweet and heady as it skitters through your spine.

Steven's fingers grip the flesh of your thighs, trying to drag you down deeper onto his cock. But you refuse to let yourself be rushed, taking your time to prolong the sweet stretch of the thickness of his cock splitting you open as you sink down on him inch by slow, gorgeous inch, until he's buried to the hilt of you.

His eyes are on you, wild and frenzied, like you're the only thing he can see, his whole world: sky, ocean, and every atom in between are composed of you.

Leaning down, you lie flush down on his firm torso, until your breast are pressed up against his chest, you tilt your head up just enough to press a much too chaste kiss on his lips.

"Keep reading" you tell him again and he whines.

"Love, I can't--"

"Finish the work" you interrupt. "You've promised Marc and I'm not going to move an inch until you finish."

His eyes widen impossibly large at your words, as he starts to realize what he's signed himself up for. Then his bottom lip pushes forward. He's actually sulking, and god, he has no right to make pouty look so gorgeous.

Without any words, his right arm reaches out along the mattress, patting it down until he finds one of the books and brings it to his chest. He lets out a slight testy murmur, in a grouchy tone that is much more characteristic of Marc than it ever would be for Steven.

Once the book is settled in his hand and he starts to read, you nestle your face into his chest. It's the best solution to prevent yourself from bursting out into laughter when you hear Steven mumble discontentedly about how: he's never going to do Marc any more favours again.

He still smells of books and coffee, of warmth and happiness that makes you feel weightless against him. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as he reads, hypnotic, like being rocked to sleep, and before you know it you drift to sleep.

You wake to pitch blackness. A sweet syrupy pleasure that flutters somewhere deep in you, but you can't tell where it comes from, and you can't grasp it in your hold. It skitters to your stomach and down to your thighs, warm and soft that makes you clench down to chase the sensation.

A keen gasp fills the room. Too low to be your own voice.

You blink your eyes against the darkness, mind still fussy and drunk with sleep, as you shift your body and are rewarded with that sweet-honeyed pleasure swirling through your stomach, except brighter this time, sharper, and you can't help but clench down again, hoping you can catch it this time and make it stay.

The sound comes again, a sweet gorgeous gasp, except this time, it breaks off in the middle with a quiet whimper.

"Love, please..." the voice pleads with you.

It's such a pretty voice, soft-spoken and gentle, but it sounds almost pained.

Steven...

You dart up, elbow anchored against his firm and solid chest as you look down on him, the small patch of drool on his white shirt, shit...

Trying to raise yourself further, the warm pleasure drags against your insides, and you can't help the moan slipping past your lips. Thick and heavy, his cock is still inside of you jerking from the movement in protest.

You fell asleep on him.

"I finished all my work now." He says it like an announcement.

You look down until your eyes meet. They're sharp. Mouth in a firm line of concentration. Then his hands grip down on the outside of your thighs, hard enough that you think he might leave permanent dents.

Patient, sweet, polite Steven is at the end of his ropes it seems. He pushes you down flush against him until you're pressed down as far as you can take him. It's white and electric, no longer the slow and lazied pleasure you've dreamt of in your half-awake state.

"Been having a nice restful nap, you have," he says, and you don't miss the sarcastic tone in his voice even as he groans, low in his throat, while he continues to reprimand you.

"Did you know that you've been shifting and squeezing down on my cock the whole time? No, I don't imagine you did, love."

The firm weight underneath you shifts, and you barely have a second to breathe and regain your composure before Steven raises his hips, thrusting up and into you as far as he goes.

"Felt like I was going mad."

He lifts you up, hands beneath the underside of your thighs, as he drags his cock alongside you, slowly. Maddening.

It feels like payback. The sweetest lesson you've ever earned.

"Said you weren't going to move until I've finished," Steven reminds you, as he holds you still. "But I've been done for quite a while, and you've been moving quite a lot before then actually. Writhing, hot and wet around me. I can actually feel it dripping out of you."

He pulls out of you until only the fat tip is resting inside you, his hips flush back down against the mattress. One hand draws down between your legs, his thumb sliding wetly against your folds, infuriatingly slow, until he's reached your clit but doesn't press down. He holds it there, without any pressure as if he's waiting for something.

"You ready love?" he asks, holding you poised against him, his hips canting up in preparation

Steven searches for your eyes, and the look in his eyes, focused and honed, has your heart beat fast and excitedly with no logical rhythm against your ribs.

"Yes, Steven."

It's all he needs, he thrusts up as his hands pull you down on him in a devastating stroke that incinerates the air in your lungs.

You're in for a long night, and whatever shortlived sleep you managed to catch earlier won't be enough for what Steven has in mind for you two. Not when you've gotten him riled up like this.

But that's alright.

You look down at Steven, eyes glassy with a feverish sheen. All of his attention pinned on you.

It's not so bad is it? To get to have all of Steven's devoted attention for yourself like this.

Dedication: To @thirstworldproblemss who was indispensable as always, for the brainstorming, the coming up with the hottest Steven dialogue (jesus fucking christ her lines are fucking fire) and for the beta-ing and putting up with my atrocious run-on sentence, tenuous grasp of grammar and wilful typos. I love you.

Also to the secret nonny. You don't know what your ask did to me (and TWP) we went into a horny frenzy and I couldn't sleep haunted by the horny images that were flashing behind my eyes because of your ask. I adore you! thank you for sending this in.

a/n: to be notified of new writing updates follow @astroboots-writes and turn on notifs 🤡💖🤡

[lycheedr3ams]

Death's Angel

Part 5: When No One is Watching

royal!fem!reader x executioner!konig

Summary: It's 1554. You're one of the eight daughters of the Austrian royal family, and your parents do everything they can to ensure their kingdom is prosperous and peaceful. No royal court is complete without their hand-picked executioner, one who stands out against the sea of black, faceless bodies that make up the profession. It just so happens that your family's new executioner, one who has made a name for himself far and wide for his skill with the axe, has caught your eye and ruined you for good.

Warnings: MDNI! smut, mutual pining, forbidden love, death (konig is an executioner duh), mean sisters, mentions of medieval-type violence, overbearing parents, konig is brooding and a perv, some predator/prey dynamics, possessive!konig, maybe dark themes bc reader likes seeing him kill people and bc he's a perv?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6

if you asked to be tagged on the taglist and you aren't there, that means tumblr wasn't letting me tag you, or i missed you on an older post. i'm not ignoring anyone! i'm very grateful for the support!!!

.......

series inspired by the art below!

your first sexual encounter with konig truly spelled the end for you as a well-to-do, behaved princess. when people were watching - your sisters, parents, family members - you were sure to act your civilized, royal self. you kept up with your studies and your duties in the royal court when in the public eye. to everyone, it seemed as though nothing had changed: you were the same girl that you were before konig entered the castle. you still curtsied exactly like how you were taught, you still covered your mouth when you chewed food, you still were educated and prim and proper.

but when no one was looking? when every living soul in the castle was asleep at night? that was a different story. you would - almost nightly - sneak down to konig's quarters and let him have his way with you time and time and time again. whether it was his cock shoved down your throat, his tongue slurping on your cunt, or his cock pounding you from every position imaginable, the princess you once were was long forgotten. konig never took the mask off, but you didn't mind. you once admitted to him in the midst of a rough session that the mask really turned you on.

there were even some nights that you'd have to stay in his room with him. nights when he fucked you so hard for so long that you would fall upon standing, or you'd simply pass out once he finally pulled out of your irresistible pussy. on those nights, he'd hold you close and gently caress your head and whisper things to you that you had no hope of remembering. all you knew was that he only spoke those words when it was clear you wouldn't remember them. on nights like these, when you had to stay in his quarters, he would wake you up very early to give you time to sneak back to your room and bathe before you had to don the royal facade.

there were some nights when konig would come all over your body, when it would cover your tits and ass and stomach and sometimes face. you quickly ran out of spare cloths, and had to sneak some more down each time you went. as for the cloths that got ruined, well, you had no choice but to burn them. there was no way they would ever truly be clean again. just like you, in a way.

when you would see konig outside of his room, the days you had to watch his executions, you ruined a pair of panties each time you saw him at his trade. the way he grunted and swung his axe had you hot and needy in minutes. there were some days when you couldn't wait until it was night, and konig could barely clean the blood from off his hands before you were pulling him into some spare broom closet for him to fuck you with his large, calloused hand clamped over your mouth. you'd clench around him so tightly when he did that, and he never last long during those specific encounters.

you found that you could barely focus during the day. acting like the pure princess you once were was now a quite tiresome task, and was not your true self, as you saw it. your true self was when you were on your knees for your executioner, or when his cock was rammed all the way up to your cervix. you couldn't admit it, but konig was right. he did ruin you.

the length of your conversations varied. sometimes, there was barely any words exchanged before he'd strip you bare. but there were also days when you would sneak him down some food from the royal table, and you'd watch him adoringly as he ate and muttered about how good it tasted. he would never tell you, but he loved it when you brought him food.

there were some conversations you had that konig told you to forget. conversations where he talked about how sweet you were, how you were truly an angel.

"you are an angel, you know that?" he whispered one night as you lay catching your breath with your cheek against his chest.

"hm?" you asked, not quite hearing what he said.

"Du bist meine Engel."

despite konig wanting you to forget those words, you never would. when you asked him why he wanted you to forget, he'd whisper things like "you've made me soft." you would always smile at him when he said that, and he would always avert his gaze.

there were times when he felt disgusting and dirty for treating one of the Austrian princesses like she was a whore on sale during happy hour. there were times he lay awake at night and wondered why he was so disgusting, why he loved corrupting a beautiful, sweet, innocent creature such as yourself. but he couldn't ever feel disgusted with himself for too long when he saw the way your eyes would roll into the back of your head, or how you'd moan his name as you clawed his back red. if you were his angel, you had fallen from heaven, but not from any fault of your own. he had dragged you down, and you fell willingly.

you had never felt so free, though. in konig's quarters, surrounded by stone and dim torchlight, you could forget about the social rules and niceties and courtesies that littered your mind each day. you could look konig in the eye, not have to bow, not have to cover your mouth when you laughed or worried if your dress was sitting properly. konig's quarters was the one place in the whole castle where you felt you could be yourself, and more than just sexually. there were some times when you two wouldn't fuck at all. you'd just lay on his bed, and he'd listen as you talked about your day as he ran a hand gently through your hair. he never talked much about himself, but his lips certainly got a bit looser when you snuck your hand under his shirt.

...

"you can talk to me, konig," you whispered in his ear one night as you gently dragged his shirt halfway up his chest and rubbed his abs. "you can trust me." you could tell that something had been bothering him the last few days.

konig pursed his lips under his mask and closed his eyes. you could feel the way his stomach rose and fell with each of his breaths. you kissed what skin you could access on his shoulder before he finally spoke.

"if anyone finds out, they'll take you away from me," he whispered quickly, as if he didn't want you to hear it.

you stopped stroking his abs and sat up a little to look at him. "no one's gonna find out," you soothed him as you gazed into his grey-blue eyes. "don't worry. we've been careful."

"they'll take you away from me," he repeated, gazing at the ceiling now rather than at you.

you kissed his cheek through his mask, and he blushed. but you wouldn't know. "if anyone manages to find out, I'll take care of it. nothing will come between us."

you laid back down and stroked his chest once again. "if we were to, I don't know, run away, where would you take me?"

konig blinked and wasn't sure if he heard your question. he mulled over your words, and hugged you a little tighter into his side. "as far away from here as possible."

"if I wanted to run away with you, you'd come with me, right?" you asked as you looked up at him.

"that's not a good idea," he scolded, but his attempts at setting you straight were feeble given how broken his voice sounded.

"I didn't ask if it's a good idea, konig," you said gently as you snaked your hand up his chest towards his hooded face. "I asked if you would come with me."

"yes." he said without any hesitation.

...

as the next month flew by and you and konig got closer, it got ever harder to hide your relationship with him. you two had never officially declared your status to each other, but konig's affections for you were beginning to be expressed in ways other than him fucking you senseless. if he saw a pretty rock in the stream he washes his clothes in, he'd save it for you. if he found a colorful feather on the ground, a shiny coin, any little trinket, he would give you. most times, he would take your hand in his own and place the gift in your palm before turning his body to the side. "I thought you might want this," he'd whisper uncertainly. you always smiled and thanked him so sweetly for his little gifts. signs he was always thinking of you. you were used to always receiving lavish gifts of jewels and clothing, makeup and rare gadgets. but Konig's gifts of little things he stumbled on throughout the day warmed your heart and meant so much more to you than any other gift you'd ever received. his gifts had a childlike innocence to them, and almost made you forget how he ruined you most nights. those gifts hinted to you that maybe you meant more to konig than you thought.

...

sometimes, you would fantasize with konig about what life would be like if you two ran away.

"what would you do if you weren't an executioner?" you asked him after a rather soft session. he was spooning you and gently rubbing your hips with his thumb. your head rested on his firm bicep.

he thought for a moment. "probably be a knight, or mercenary for hire. i am not fit for normal jobs."

you giggled softly. "yeah, I can see that."

"what about you?" he asked. "what would you want to be if you weren't a princess?"

your whole world stopped, and your eyes went wide. no one had ever asked you that. you were the one living the life that all the little girls in your kingdom dreamed of. what you were every day of your life, is most women's highest fantasies. why would anyone ever ask you if you would want to be anything other than a princess? what else would you possibly want to be? you paused for a while as you thought and chewed your cheek.

"i...i don't know, konig," you admitted quietly. "maybe...just living in a little cottage by the countryside. just enjoying each day, doing what I want. maybe be a village herbalist, have some cows and chickens."

konig gently squeezed your hip. "that sounds very peaceful, Engel."

you went silent, but the warm tears that fell on konig's bicep spoke more than your words ever could. he hugged you tighter and closer to him.

"if you want me to take you away from here, i will. you have my word, Engel."

you sniffled. "you can't do that konig. you have a job here, you can't just mess up your life for me."

"my life was messed up the moment i first looked at you," he said sincerely. rough around the edges, but you knew he meant well. "there's no going back. I don't want to go back. if you want to go, we go."

your head spun. "but how will we pay for everything?"

"do not worry, Engel," he said as he stroked your hair. "i have money saved, and i'm sure you could sneak some of your own on the way out. all will be well."

you held onto his bicep as you cried, and he soothed you as best as he could. you finally managed to stop crying, and now lay tired and limp against him.

"just say when, Engel," he whispered into your hair. "just say when, and we will go."

taglist: @kneelingshadowsalome, @plumdreadful, @dumb-dumb-idiot-girl, @elichisstuff, @konig-breedme, @tr4psta, @cutiecusp, @konigsleftkidney, @local-vampire-s1ut, @ihaveaproblematicbrain, @twice360noscope, @madzeesstuff, @crazy-phan-girl13, @babygirl-panda19, @warrior-of-justice, @eluffi, @mooniesthings, @elowynnlane, @zaxlrza, @red-bed-bug

[holylulusworld]

Broken Rose (1)

Summary: He may have stolen your kingdom and freedom – but he’ll never own your heart. Right?

Pairing: Alpha!Geralt of Rivia x Queen(Omega)!Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of forced/arranged marriage trope, a/b/o, magic, light smut, unprotected sex, mating, claiming, forced proximity, I’ll label this dub-con (just in case)

Broken Rose masterlist

Broken Rose (Prologue)

He’s like a fever dream coming over you and your kingdom. All of your knights have fallen under his spell. Robbed of their will and honor by his dark powers.

Your sword and armor lie abandoned on the ground. Just like your crown. It’s broken, like your heart and pride. You lost. The battle. Your kingdom. Your freedom.

And now, you lost a part of yourself too because you allowed Geralt to strip you bare and take you to bed. 

It’s not an unknown feeling having this man inside of your body. You did it many times, unbeknownst by your father, the former king, and your knights.

He stole your innocence and heart years ago – when you were still a foolish girl believing in love and fairytales. You believed that you could marry the man you love when you become queen.

Your mind runs wild while he ravishes not only your body but your soul too. Geralt is all-consuming and undefeatable. Not only in battle but between your thighs too.

He enchanted you with his soft kisses and sweet promises reminding you of a different time. A time in which you were hopelessly in love with the Witcher conquering your kingdom and cunt.

You had no choice but to surrender. Not only in battle but in the bedroom too. Your omega, and body gave in, but the queen did not.

You’re buying your time by letting him claim your body for the time being. “You’re mine, say it,” he purrs against your throat, lips nipping at your untouched mating gland. “Say it.”

Clawing at his back you ignore the tingling in your core. It’s been too long without him, but he still remembers how to make your body pliant. “No.”

“Say my name, my queen,” his thrusts become more demanding, and the bed starts to creak at the effort he puts into forcing pleasure on your body. 

The headboard slams into the wall, and for the first time, you are grateful your knights are still under his spell.

You should be ashamed that you are close to an orgasm while your people are robbed of their free will.

“Say my name,” he growls against your throat. “Now!”

“No! We are not even married, and you just took me to bed,” you snarl at him. “You ruined me. How dare you take a queen like that.”

He laughs against your throat. “My rose, I plugged your blossom years ago,” Geralt playfully says. He gets impossible faster and grips your legs to throw them over his shoulders. 

“No…I can’t…” you shake your head and press your hands against his chest. You are forced to stare at Geralt as he pushes his cock inside of your cunt as deep as possible with every thrust. 

“You can and will let go for me,” his eyes glow in the dim light of your bedroom. He tilts his head, tempted to take your free will from you too. “Now! This cunt will squeeze me and take my knot.”

“I hate you,” you whimper the words. Your body surrendered a long time ago, and all you can do is let go and clench tightly around his cock. “Why?”

“Because you are mine,” he growls and drops your legs to cover your trembling body. His teeth sink into your mating gland. You cry out in pleasured pain, whimpering as you come undone once again. “We are married by my rules for years.”

The bond is already forming, and you sniffle because there is no escaping him now. Endorphins float your whole body and take away all of your fears for a moment.

Geralt’s knot swells deep within you. He growls your name, and paws at your body. The alpha lifts his head to watch your face contort in pleasure.

“You’ll have my knot and heir tonight. I made you my queen and mate. Forever.”

“Forever,” your eyes flutter shut, and you refuse to open them again. Your body got conquered, but your strong will is a different story.

“Y/N, stop fighting fate,” Geralt growls in your ear. He has you underneath him, his knot still locked inside of your body. The second time he mated with you he wanted you on your hands and knees. Simply to tame you and show you who is in charge.

He didn’t think you’d kick, scratch, and bite him before he got the chance to get his cock back inside of you. Geralt had no choice but to mount you like an animal to get what he wanted. 

Submission never was your style and never will be.

“Fate?” You snarl. “This isn’t fate. You attacked my kingdom and used magic to win the battle. You forced your mark on me and talked about fate?”

“We were meant to be from the beginning,” he whispers lowly. “Stop fighting me, and I’ll set your knights free. Give in to me, my queen and I’ll be your loyal king and mate.”

“As if you’d let my knights go,” you huff. “I’ll never be your queen or mate. Only because you pushed your knot inside of me doesn’t mean I’m yours.”

Geralt smirks at your words. You’re a strong-willed woman. Undefeatable and angry. That’s what he always liked about you. The alpha chose you as his mate to have an equal partner, not a submissive and meek omega by his side.

“We will talk about your behavior in the morning,” he wraps his arms tighter around your body. “Maybe I need to use my magic on your cunt too. Oh, I forgot. You’re already wet for me all the time.”

You grit your teeth. It’s not your fault that your body gives in to your instinct. Geralt’s scent is driving you crazy, and there is nothing you can do to fight it.

“I dare you!” You snap at him. “Don’t get too comfortable in my bed and kingdom. I’ll get rid of you soon enough.”

“No. You won’t,” he whispers in your ear. “You’re a beautiful but broken rose. No one stands by your side. You’re all alone and only have me left. Give in, and I’ll give you everything you can wish for.”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[assumptionprime]

I adore your take on DS2 and wanted to know what ur thoughts were on Elden Ring and/or DS 3!

(also I have been loving ur comics!!!)

First off: Thank you! Glad you like my comics! <3

I mentioned it briefly in the DS2 post, and it's been said by others, but Dark Souls 3 is about ending Dark Souls. And it does that very well. The "time and space is falling apart and that's why the geography is like that" that people sometimes say about DS2 is literally, textually true in 3. The Dreg Heap is a pile of other, older Dark Souls areas collapsing in on each other. This world has been going on and on, repeating and prolonging the Age of Fire that should have ended long ago, and it's just breaking down. You can't keep the same thing going forever, that's true in the universe of the story, and of a franchise of dark fantasy action RPGs.

It's kind of funny and also impressive that Miyazaki and the team hit that point, saying if they keep doing this it's going to fall apart, on game three of the franchise. There's so many series out there that will pump out game after game of the same stuff, to the point they stop numbering them and give them subtitles to hide the fact that they're on game 23 of this thing, and FromSoft said "three's our limit for this one" and gave us the greatest hits final bow before moving on to new different takes on their subgenre of games.

Enter Elden Ring! The game that got me into FromSoft games. Every time people talked about Dark Souls it was always about how hard they were, and the whole "git gud" mentality, which made them seem like they would 100% be not my kind of thing. But I am an absolute sucker for a fantasy open world, so I dipped my toes into Elden Ring, and really enjoyed it! Being able to just go exploring and do something else whenever I got stuck was a huge plus, as are spirit ash summons. The game is hard, for sure, but there's also a lot of ways to ease that difficulty (not eliminate it, but ease it (also there's no excuse to not have a pause button, that's stupid, don't @ me))

As far as lore and storytelling, Elden Ring has a lot of cool stuff (that's my wife Ranni, my cool witch wife Ranni) but I don't know that I have so definite a "take" on its story. It goes back to the Dark Souls 1 and 3 well of "some important shit happened, go kill this list of bosses about it" but I appreciate that you have a lot more choice in regards to your ending. It's not "link the fire or don't" it's "you're creating a new age, what do you want that age to be like?" with a few compelling choices and some evil bastard ones for fun.

Assorted side thoughts:

FP is better than spell uses. More convenient, more flexible, lets you focus on Mind to allow yourself to cast more spells.

All of my first playthroughs were sword and board, both because of caution going in and because I like the "knight with a sword and shield" aesthetic.

Related to the last point, Guard Counters are a great addition in ER, and the "Sekiro style block" crystal tear for the Physick in the DLC should have been a talisman or something permanent, to just make that a play style people can use.

The Alva Armor rules, 10/10 best fit in Dark Souls

I really like Shadow of the Erdtree, but it is the absolute limit on the current version of Souls-game mechanics. Not everyone is Let Me Solo Her, and between both the extremely punishing difficulty and the becoming more repetitive nature of a lot of the boss design, they need to change up the combat to keep things going. Sekiro seems to be a step in that direction from what I hear?

No boss fight in any video game has ever made me feel as cool as Slave Knight Gael in the DS3 DLC. It just worked for me on pretty much every level. The story, the music, the visuals, the difficulty. I can beat him, and it's hard but not a kind of hard that makes me angry at the game. Dodging in and out of his attacks, getting my own hits in, it felt like a kick ass dance of fantasy combat. It's peak.

[cosmerelists]

Favorite Musicals of Each Order of the Knights Radiant

We’ve already considered their favorite boardgames. But what about when it’s time to go to a musical? Which musical is preferred by each order?

1. Skybreakers: Les Misérables

They think Javert is the protagonist.

Szeth: Is it not strange that the musical continues for so long after the death of the protagonist?

Nale: Ah, but it is only thus that we see the real tragedy.

Nale: As all of the lawbreakers go on living, without punishment, due the the lawman not being willing to fulfill his duty.

Joret: It’s so horrifying.

Cali: Yes, hence the title.

2. Bondsmiths: West Side Story

It’s about two warring gangs being brought together.

Dalinar: Although it is sad, it is nice that it ends with all of the previously estranged people bonding over their loss.

Navani: And it really is through music that two warring sides can be brought together--perhaps even feel love for each other.

Dalinar: Yes. 

Dalinar: Wait, what? 

3. Edgedancers: Little Shop of Horrors

Or at least, it’s Lift’s favorite.

Lift: I dunno why Wyndle doesn’t like it--it’s about a plant!

Lift: A hungry plant too, so it has something in common with both of us!

Wyndle: I--

Wyndle: Never--

Wyndle: That--

Wynde: IT WAS SO HORRIFYING, MISTRESS!!!

Lift: It’s kinda in the title, dude.

4. Stonewards: The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee

They were surprised at how invested they got.

Badali: It may not be warfare, yet the efforts of these children are so inspiring.

Zu: They truly do fight until there is only one standing.

5. Elsecallers: A Little Night Music

Jasnah just thinks it’s neat.

Jasnah: I have to respect the effort of composing each song in 3/4 time.

6. Lightweavers: Phantom of the Opera

It’s about art, tortured souls, disguises...

Gaz: I gotta feel bad for the Phantom.

Shallan: What, because his love for Christine is doomed?

Vathah: Because it would suck to live in a sewer?

Gaz: Well sure.

Gaz: But also that one-sided mask.

Gaz: He must always feel like there’s something there in the darkness, something just out of his sight.

Shallan: ...

Vathah: ...

Gaz: N-Not that I would know anything about that, ha ha!

7. Truthwatchers: Lion King

They went for the costumes and ended up being  blown away by the story.

Rlain: If Simba had just told the truth about his father’s death, all of that could have been avoided.

Stump: Yeah, well, kids are pretty stupid sometimes.

Renarin: Although by running away, Simba did get to be raised by two awesome gay dads, so that’s nice!

Stump: ...

Renarin: What?

8. Willshapers: Scarlet Pimpernel

It’s about rescuing innocent (?) aristocrats from being imprisoned and guillotined!  

Eshonai: It is truly inspiring to see a group of humans working so hard to free other humans before their unjustified deaths.

Venli: That Madame Guillotine song is really catchy though.

Eshonai: Yeah, you almost can almost understand the killing there.

9. Dustbringers: Wicked

They appreciate the overall message.

Malata: Yeah, there really are two sides to every story!

Ral-na: And just because a power is popularly deemed destructive, that does not mean it is so.

10. Windrunners: Also Wicked

Although their reasoning is...different.

Bridge Four, in their barracks: SO IF YOU CARE TO FIND ME / LOOK TO THE WESTERN SKY

Bridge Four: AS SOMEONE TOLD ME LATELY / EVERYONE DESERVES THE CHANCE TO FLY!

Bridge Four: AND IF I’M FLYING SOLO / AT LEAST I’M FLYING FREEEE

Bridge Four: TO THOSE WHO’D GROUND ME / TAKE A MESSAGE BACK FROM MEEEEE

Bridge Four: TELL THEM HOW I AM DEFYING GRAVITY / I’M FLYING HIGH, DEFYING GRAVITY!

Kaladin (wiping away a tear): It’s just such a good song.

[sauerhundz]

Welcome to The Catalogues

Welcome to our exclusive Companion Catalogue, where each entry is a captivating blend of devotion and intensity. These souls seek companionship with a fervor that borders on the obsessive, promising a bond that is as deep as it is enduring. Browse through our selection and find the one who will cherish you with unparalleled devotion.

Disclaimer:

The Yandere Companion Catalogue is a fictional and creative work intended for entertainment purposes only. The characters and scenarios depicted are entirely imaginary and are not representative of real people or relationships. The traits and behaviors described in this catalogue, particularly those related to obsessive and controlling behaviors, are exaggerated for dramatic effect and do not reflect healthy or acceptable relationship dynamics.

By reading and engaging with this catalogue, you acknowledge that you understand its fictional nature and agree to use it solely for entertainment purposes. If you have any concerns about your own relationships or mental health, please reach out to a qualified professional for assistance.

The Prsioner:

Convicted of murder and sentenced to 15 years, this intense and charismatic individual has spent his time behind bars focusing on self-improvement and personal growth. His dark past is matched by an unwavering devotion and a strategic mind, promising protection and a consuming love. He seeks a companion who can appreciate his complexity and commitment, offering loyalty and a relationship that is anything but ordinary.

|Headcanons|

The Vampire:

An ancient vampire who has wandered the earth for countless years, he is a refined and deeply melancholic soul. His timeless elegance and profound knowledge of history and the arts mask a profound sense of loneliness. He seeks a companion to share in his eternal journey, offering a love that is both profound and unwavering. His charm is enchanting yet tinged with sorrow, promising a unique bond that transcends time.

|Headcanons|

The Fae:

A mesmerizing fae of ancient power and captivating beauty, he serves as the Guardian of the Enchanted Forest. With emerald eyes that hold deep secrets and an enchanting voice, he weaves spells of attraction and binding. His love is intense and consuming, driven by a possessive nature. He seeks a companion to share the mysteries of his magical world, offering eternal devotion and an unbreakable bond.

The Shapeshifter:

The Horror:

The Farmer:

The Killer:

The Knight

The Lawyer

The Bodyguard

The Roomate

The Ghost

The Android

The Werewolf

The Duke

The King

The Husband

The Bestfriend

The Mafioso

The Doctor

The Priest

The Creature

The Barbarian

….more coming!

We hope you find your perfect match among these devoted souls. Each one promises a relationship filled with intensity, devotion, and a love that will never waver. Choose wisely, for their love knows no bounds, and once they find you, they will never let you go.

All rights reserved @sauerhundz. All works of fanfictions belong to me, please do not copy, translate or repost any works without my my express permission. Thank you~🌀

[n0cturn4]

Series In every universe - 9 . Tim Drake

Character: Tim Drake x Reader Summary: "Do you think we’ll find each other in other lives?" Word Count: 763 Land of Ancient Times.

Under the starry sky of a night that seemed endless, Tim found himself once again at the edge of the enchanted forest, where the moonlight softly illuminated a clearing covered with silver flowers. The knight, clad in his gleaming armor, carried in his heart the mystery of his quest, though his eyes sought her instinctively. He knew she was there, hidden among the shadows and mist, as she had always been.

And then, from the silence of the trees, she appeared. The mystical creature who belonged to the forest and time itself, her eyes gleaming like ancient sapphires, her steps light upon the ground. Her presence exuded a profound serenity, as if she were the very embodiment of the earth's magic.

"Here I am again, knight," she whispered, her voice as melodious as the song of a hidden stream.

Tim smiled upon seeing her, yet a melancholy, unintended, showed in his face. He approached with the care of one who fears breaking a precious spell, extending his hand, as if reaching to feel her ephemeral touch, once more.

"Tell me," he began, hesitant, his eyes fixed on hers, "do you think... we will find each other in other lives?"

She looked at him with a sweet sadness, as if that were the oldest secret guarded by the forest. Yet there was no doubt in her answer, only a promise that echoed beyond time.

"If it is up to my will," she replied softly, "I shall find you in every one of them."

And in that moment, with the soft breeze carrying her words through the air, Tim knew that their fate would never be undone.

Tim observed every detail of her as one who tries to engrave a secret deep within his memory. At each meeting, it was as if he tried to steal from time one more moment by her side, though he knew they inhabited different worlds. She belonged to the roots and the stars, as ethereal as the breath of an ancient legend; he was bound to the weight of mortal lands, the steel of his armor, and the duty of protecting a kingdom she would never see.

"Why do you look at me so, knight?" she asked in a melody that seemed to soothe his heart. There was a soft 7in every word she spoke, a tenderness that bound Tim in an invisible chain.

"Because I fear that each time I bid farewell to you, it may be the last," he confessed, feeling his chest tighten under the weight of his own mortality. "And though I wish to remember every trace of your face, I always fear that you... will fade, like a dream upon waking."

She then approached, a mystical gleam flickering in her eyes as she touched his face with gentle fingers, bringing an unexpected warmth. Tim closed his eyes at the feel of that touch; eternity seemed to fit into that simple gesture, and the world outside ceased to matter.

"Tell me, Tim," she whispered, so close that her breath blended with her murmur, "if your heart believes so faithfully, then what fear could there be? Are you not, indeed, the only one capable of finding me, even in the deepest darkness?"

The knight opened his eyes, meeting the depth in hers. There, he felt seen and understood in a way he had never known. As if she had known him before his very existence, as if their souls had crossed paths in past lives, somewhere beyond the veils that separated time and eternity.

"It is as though you have dwelled in each of my dreams, each sigh, long before I could even understand what longing was," he replied, his voice laden with emotion. "Nothing could keep me from following your trace, from finding you in every life that comes after this one."

She smiled, with a touch of sadness, as one who knows what he would never understand. On her face, the reflection of an ancient, immortal certainty.

"So it shall be, then," she said, resting her forehead against his in a silent gesture that spoke louder than words. "I will be waiting for you, Tim. In every era, in every sunrise, your spirit will find me, and I shall be the shadow beneath the tree, the wind among the flowers, the river's song at dusk."

With one last touch, she stepped back, slowly disappearing into the forest's dimness. And the knight remained there, knowing that at the end of all ages, in some other world or life, he would find her again — for so he desired, and that wish would travel through the centuries until they met once more.

[bats-and-birds-24]

Chapter 14: Tim Drake acquires Siblings

Chapter 14:

The atmosphere in the batplane was suffocating as Batman and Nightwing carefully ignored each other. Dick spent most of the ride fiddling around with his escrima sticks and looking through his utility belt. If asked, his excuse was that he was simply preparing for the upcoming fight at Nanda Parbat.

Bruce himself wasn’t faring much better, as beneath the gloves, he was white knuckling the steering wheel so hard he was pretty sure his hands were going to be numb by the time they reached their destination.

As the two descended beneath the clouds, a stunning view of the undying city came into view. Nanda Parbat in all her beauty glowed in the first light of day. The sight would have washed away all the pollution and filth of Gotham from one’s soul if Bruce and Dick weren’t the Dark Knight and the Gray Son of Gotham respectively.

Bruce eyed the training grounds as an easy location to park the plane, it wasn’t as though they were trying to hide their arrival. 

Dick got up as the ground came into clear view. Opening the batplane’s door, he somersaulted down for the fight ahead. Bruce grunted in disapproval, his firstborn was being too rash. He carefully piloted the batplane away from Dick and strode out, ready to face the entire league to save his sons, if need be.

In Jason’s Apartments:

Talia dismissed the messenger with a wave of her hand. It seems that Bruce has finally caught onto what was happening. She frowned, it took him longer than she expected, it seemed that Jason’s death really took a toll on him.

Jason and the rest of the children looked up at her in curiosity. Better to tell them now than later. In fact, better to show them than tell them.

She gestures to them to move to the balcony. Damian looked confused at the sight, while Cass merely looked on curiously, Tim actually looked excited, and Jason simply turned away and walked back inside. 

“Damian, I believe that it is time to meet your father.” Damian's head snapped back to her. Here? Now? He wasn’t even in any presentable attire, his loose training clothes stained with sweat. “Wait mother, let me go change!” He ran off to his own chambers. 

Tim gazed at the batplane, he could see the dark figures of Batman and Nightwing. A rush of joy and reassurance went to his head. They actually came for him. In his hindsight it seemed stupid to think that they wouldn't. He was Robin after all, who knows how much backlash Batman would get if he lost another Robin. The thought dampened his excitement. Tim shook his mind clear and jumped over the balcony railing, gracefully landing beside the two men in black.

Dick’s head snapped back to see who had managed to sneak up behind them when he saw Tim. His face immediately lit up. “Timmers! You’re just in time to see us beat up some assassins!” Tim looked up in alarm, “Wait no! This is all a misunderstanding!” 

Dick’s eyes widened and Bruce let out a sharp noise. It was too late, one of the assassins snapped out of the shock of having to face Batman himself, and swung at him. It missed as Bruce easily dodged, but the spell was broken and the fight began.

The next minute was one of pure chaos as weapons flashed and people blurred. The sound was deafening with the clashing of swords, and slicing of flesh. Tim could only watch in horror as his plan to reunite his family, the batfamily, was upended in mere seconds. 

The chaos came to an abrupt end as a familiar voice pierced through the din of battle; “ENOUGH!” 

Jason’s eyes flashed pit green as he took in the scene before him. It was bad enough that Bruce ruined his first life, but now here he was, trying to drag him away from what little peace he had managed to carve out for himself in between his resurrection and training. Jason waved away the other assassins and focused on the intruders. The lower ranked bowed and left, knowing that this matter was now out of their hands.

Bruce’s eyes widened. It couldn’t be. He felt his heart thump against his ribcage, his deepest dreams having come true, Jason was alive. And yet, something felt off. Looking into those eyes stained by the pit, he couldn’t see the fiery, optimistic Robin he had had by his side all those years ago. These were the eyes of a madman broken by his own expectations of the world.

Dick swallowed a lump down his throat, Bruce was right all along, he never should have doubted him. At least now that this whole mess is over, they can grab Tim and Jason and go back home and start being a family again. 

The thought is rudely cut short by the next few words out of Jason’s mouth.

“Why are you two here?” His hard gaze made the two feel ashamed, though for what, they did not yet know. 

“We’re here to bring you back home.” Dick was confused, shouldn’t Jason be happier that they were rescuing him from the league?

“Home, back home where the Joker still runs free? Don’t use the excuse that he’s in Arkham with me, I know for a fact how weak their security is.” Jason began to circle them, coming face to face with Bruce, “Home, where you still haven’t learned anything from my death and still use innocent children to cover for you in your nonsensical crusade against crime?”

“I’m not coming back home until I know that I can fix what you broke. I’m training under the league until then.”

Jason finished up his speech and turned to leave. “Wait! Son! Please hear me out!” Bruce pleaded, but those pleas fell on deaf ears as Jason simply walked back to his quarters.

Tim sighed as he looked upon Dick and Bruce’s faces, the despair evident in them. “Come one now, there is a lot to explain.”

The two vigilantes mutely followed him, not knowing what else to do.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Shadows Entwined: part 6

BatmanVsTmnt!Leonardo x sidekick!reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 / Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Bonus (18+)

-------------

A/N: And one week later, the Gotham adventure continues💙

-------------

You arrive at Arkham Asylum, finding the eerie building abandoned, with the expectations of a few mutants. One mutant especially, makes Leo realize a fear he did not know he had.

Warnings: Spelling, fear gas visions, imaginary death, angst, desperation.

The reader and the turtles are 19.

--------------

“I win!”, Robin said proudly as he landed at the gates of Arkham Asylum. “And you owe me a pizza”, he said, gesturing towards you, seeming oblivious for a short time, as the rest of you took in the appearance of Arkham Asylum and its menacing atmosphere. From the gates to the front entrance, was a path marked with dead trees, all casting contorted shadows on the ground. Its gothic walls were dark, with a glow of green and red, giving it a sickening appearance. Windows were smashed and not a single window carried any light, making it feel similar to a haunted house in the worst horror movies.

“I’ve never liked this place”, you mumbled, causing Leo to turn his head slightly towards you. The look on your face, it wasn’t fear. Batman had probably learned you to not show fear, yet there was something in your eyes. Your pretty eyes. A determination yet a hesitance. Leo noticed how your shoulders had tensed a bit, and how your demeanor had changed so much since your small race on the rooftops.

Leonardo offered his elbow out to you ever so slightly, causing you to look at him in slight confusion. “Just hold on if you ever need to”, he said, feeling his heartbeat to raise ever so slightly when he saw a small smile on your lips.

“No sign of the Foot or the League”, Batman’s deep voice sounded, causing both of you to jump back to reality, back in front of Arkham’s threatening gate. “Stay sharp”.

With all of your weapons ready, you followed Batman up the path and through the main doors. None of you saw anyone. Not a single soul. All you could see was the dark corners of Arkham, and the haunting silence.

BANG.

You jumped slightly, placing a hand on Leonardo’s arm. If it wasn’t for the threatening atmosphere of Arkham, Leo would probably have enjoyed the feeling. Maybe he would even have turned to smile at you, if not for the sound of something being dragged along the ground.

“Well, would you look at that”, a voice sounded in the darkness. A dog-like being dressed in a jester costume and carrying a big mallet, jumped onto the railing at the top of the staircase. “The bat has made some new best friends! So, are you gonna introduce me to your new turtle pals or what?”

“Harley. What have they done to you?”, Batman asked, ever so stoic.

“The ooze”, Donnie spoke up. “They must have injected themselves”.

“Aha”, Harley said with a finger in the air before jumping back from the railing. “There’ll be plenty of time to talk once you find Mister J and our guests. He got a whole thing planned! I don’t wanna ruin it. You know how he gets!” And with those words she turned and left, leaving you and the rest in shivering unease. All expect Batman and Leonardo.

The said turtle stepped forward, ready to follow the mutant, but Batman stopped him. “Wait”, he said, causing Leo to look at him. “Presumably Shredder and Ra’s have mutated all of the inmates of Arkham”.

“Was this their plan?”, Batgirl asked in confusion. “Mutate the villains and unleash them on the city?”

“I have a feeling this is just one part of the puzzle”, Batman said. “Split up. Investigate each wing. (H/N), you and Leonardo come with me. Remember, this whole asylum is essentially a maze. There are hostages to rescue, and on top of that, even before they were mutated, these inmates were the deadliest criminals in all of Gotham”. That was the last the dark knight said before he turned, his cape flowing behind him.

“I was kind of expecting a pep talk”, Donatello said, looking to you, Batgirl and Robin for some sort of confirmation.

“That was the pep talk”, Robin grumbled, slightly irritated over the fact that Batman had chosen you to go with him, and not him.

“Go team”, Batgirl said, two thumbs in the air.

You and Leonardo did just as Batman had told you to, and followed him down the hall. Well, not before you shot Batgirl a smug grin, as she and Donatello decided to go together. But that smug grin soon disappeared as the three of you walked through the halls of Arkham in complete silence. You felt a slight frustration at the way Batman would position himself either between you and the blue clad turtle, or just behind you, never leaving any of you out of sight. You knew very well it was because of Batman’s protective mannerisms towards his family. It was his wish to protect that made him look out for any danger that could harm you. But to Leo it felt different. He couldn’t shake this itching feeling that Batman did not want him to be alone with you in Arkham. Was it because he did not trust that Leo could protect you, or did he not wish his daughter to be alone with the mutant turtle she was starting to show affection? Well, he couldn’t blame the bat. He still hardly knew Leonardo.

The three of you continued down Arkham’s many stairs, until you came to the boiler room. Walking into the middle of the room, Batman suddenly stopped behind you and Leo, his attention turned to the side of the room as he listened.

“What is it?”, Leo asked, noticing the sudden shift in attention.

“Someone’s here”, was all the bat said, making it shiver down your spine.

“Can you please stop saying it like that?”, you asked, rubbing your arms to calm the shiver. “Nothing good happens when you say it like that”.

That was when something flashed above your head, moving swiftly in the shadows. Black feathers fell from above, landing before your feet. Leo watched the movement before flicking his katana slightly out from its saya, using his thumb. That was when whatever that had moved in the shadows landed before you.

“Hello, Batman”, said the being covered in feathers. “I was afraid you wouldn’t show up. Though not as afraid as you’re going to be”.

“Dr. Jonathan Crane”, Batman told Leo.

“Calls himself Scarecrow”, you added.

Leo couldn’t help himself. He turned his head towards you, one brow raised. “Really?”

Scarecrow let out a cry, before flying towards you, causing all three of you to jump out of the way, just before Scarecrow’s claws could skim the floor, just where you had been standing. You stumbled on the ground, having a hard time finding your footing.

“Watch out”, Batman called out from the other side of the room, as he started to cover his face with his cape. ”He has a fear gas that can make you see things that aren’t real”.

Leo looked up, seeing Scarecrow hover before flying directly at your turned back. Batman saw the same thing, calling out your name as he launched forward, all stoic features gone from his face, and now replaced with fear.

“(Y/N), watch out!”

You started in shock at Batman. He never used your real name whenever you were in costume. It was an unspoken rule. When in costume, you were (H/N), just like Bruce was Batman. Just like Damian was Robin, and just like Barbara was Batgirl. You could not think, shocked that he used your name while Leo and the Scarecrow was around. Leonardo however, not thinking further about the name he had just heard, ran and pushed you out of the way, just as the Scarecrow threw a gas that made him choke on his own breath.

Leo fell down on all four, coughing as he tried to breath. He opened his eyes, watching in horror as the boiler room changed around him. He stood and turned, taking in the warping world around him. Until he saw his brothers. The Scarecrow looming over them. Leo yelled, his heart in his throat, telling them to get out of there. Then the Scarecrow opened his wings, sending furth an army of crows, swarming his brothers. Leo watched in fear as the crows poked at his brothers, tearing them apart. Leo could not hear their screams, but he could see it in their eyes. They were hurting. His brothers were hurting. His best friends. His one and everything. The reason he lived and fought to be a leader. They were hurting.

It happened so fast yet it felt like an eternity. The crows formed into a black mass surrounding his brothers. They disappeared, leaving behind three dried bodies. Raph, Donnie and Mikey. His brother dead before his very eyes.

Leo’s breath was erratic. He fell to his knees before clutching Mikey’s dried hands in his. His fear and horror only grew as wind picked up, turning all three of them into dust. Leo yelled, screaming at the top of his lungs before falling back to the ground.

“That’s right”, Scarecrow's voice sounded in his ear. “Everyone is gone, and it’s all your fault”.

“Leo?”

Leonardo’s heart almost stopped at the sound. So weak, fragile, scared.

“Or, almost everyone”, Scarecrow sounded yet again.

Shaking in fear, Leo turned to see you on the ground, shaking in fear. Your legs had given out, your arms working to get you moving as far away as possible.

“(H/N)?” Leo stood, walking towards you, only for you to scream and scrabble further away.

“Stay away!”, you yelled, tears pooling in your eyes, your voice cracking. Leo was confused, his heart breaking a bit as you right tried to get away from him.

“(H/N)?! What’s wrong?!” Leo was growing more and more desperate with each passing second. First his brothers and now you.

“Don’t look at me!”, you started screaming, covering your face trying to hide from him. “Don’t look at me!”

“Tell me what’s wrong, (Y/N)!” Leo was surprised to hear himself use the name Batman has just used.

“You’re eyes!” You were crying. Leo felt a pain in his chest at your words. You were scared of his eyes. You were scared of him. “Please don’t look at me! I beg you! Don’t look at me!”

Desperately he tried to reach for your hand, but you screamed, pushing back trying to get away from him. Leo wanted to cry, he wanted to yell and scream at you. To tell you were hurting him. You were crying and Leo didn’t know what to do. He was paralyzed, frantically trying to get you to look at him. So frantically, that he did not notice the Scarecrow came and pulled you away.

“No!”, Leo yelled, standing to run towards you, only to be surrounded by Scarecrows, taunting him. His brothers were dead because of him. You feared him. It was all his fault. It was all because of him.

“Leonardo”. Leo turned to see a lone Scarecrow with you hiding behind it. Leo’s blood boiled. “Listen to my voice”.

Batman ducked as Leonardo came after him with his katana in hands, fear and anger in his eyes. It was different from the eyes that had looked at you a moment ago. Fear and sadness. They were nothing like the blue eyes that you had found yourself spending so many thoughts on.

“You killed them! You took her!”, Leo yelled, slashing out his katanas at what he saw as the Scarecrow. But Batman continuously dodged the sharp blades, hearing all of your gasps as you watched on helplessly.

“I don’t know what you’re seeing”, Batman said. “But it’s not real”.

“You’ll pay for what you did!”, Leo yelled, slamming his blades against the pipes they passed.

“Your anger won’t help your brothers”, Batman said. “And it won’t save (Y/N)”. Batman jumped and rolled, before kicking Leo in the back, bringing him to the ground. You gasped, ready to jump in, but Batman signed at you to stay out of it. “You have to focus! Fight it!”

Leo sat on the ground, in a trance-like state. His normally beautiful eyes wide, as he held his katana extended out in front of him. Then suddenly he turned, swinging his katana through the air and hitting Scarecrow. The flying mutant fell groaning to the ground, as Leo braced himself against his katana, fighting to regain his breath.

Batman walked up to Leo, pulling a small pink liquid and needle from his utility belt. “The antidote to Crane’s gas”, he said as he injected Leonardo through the shoulder. “It should wear off quickly”. And so it did.

In the blink of an eye, the boiler room turned back to normal. The irrational fear left Leo’s mind, and he could finally breathe normally again. He saw as you came to his side, all though hesitant in your steps. It poked in Leo’s chest yet again. He had indeed scared you, just like the fear gas had made him believe. But now you looked him in the eyes, as if you never had been scared of them. Leo wondered if you ever actually had been scared of them. And with that thought he remembered his reaction. How he had reacted to the fear of you not wanting to see his eyes. He felt embarrassed, ashamed. He had had no control over his actions, with no regards for how it may have affected you. Yes, he had been affected by Crane’s gas, but to Leo, that was no excuse. He had to do better than that.

As if you had been able to read his mind, you placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, your eyes never leaving his beautiful blue ones. The ones that you were just happy to see again. Leo placed a hand over yours, enjoying the feeling for a moment.

Batman watched the two of you for a second, before speaking up, once again ripping you out of whatever thought you had been having. Your hand falling off of Leo’s shoulder, causing him to feel what could only be described as disappointment.

“Let’s move”, Batman said, directing the two of you back towards the door and out of the boiler room.

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

ATLA

all my skeletons out for the taking by 136108

Azula wins the Agni Kai, and the playing field shifts.

The Owl House

Grom Knight by ObabScribbler

Belos is dead. The Collector is defeated. The portal door is working again and everyone now just has to move on with their lives and rebuild normality as best they can. This is easier for some than for others.

When Willow invites Hunter to Grom, he assumes it is so that he, as a non-student of Hexside, can still be there to help Skara in her duties as Grom Queen. Emerald Entrails stick together, after all. Clearly there could be no other reason for Willow to invite him. This is all set to be a simple, friendly combined dance and fight with a demonic entity that reads minds and conjures your worst fears into reality. No biggie.

Except with Boscha and her crew of bullies around and feeling braver than ever, this Grom might not be as simple as they all hoped. Especially when Hunter discovers that being the reincarnated container of hundreds of years of Golden Guards' fears is a bad thing to be around a fear demon.

Clone Wars

and through the spaces of the dark by blackkat (+ podfic)

Jon's attempts to avoid a war he wants no part in are ended when Dark Woman drags him to Coruscant and straight to a posting with the Guard. He intends to keep his head down and do his work, but the mysteries around the Guard - and Fox - immediately have him in out of his depth and on uncertain ground.

Nine Worlds / The Lays of the Hearth Series

Friday Keeps Coming Next by rattyjol

Cliopher's first morning with the Sun-on-Earth was everything he could have dreamed of, until it wasn’t.

or: Cliopher and his Radiancy break time. Again.

soon, they said, if not today by Ariaste

Cliopher passes the Imperial exams on the first try.

It changes everything.

one for sorrow, two for joy by Ariaste

The Emperors of Astandalas did not have daemons.

Cliopher knew this could not, technically, be true. Thinking this thought, even in the quietest whisper in his deepest heart of hearts, was undeniably treason, but…. facts were facts: The Emperors of Astandalas, though worshipped as gods on earth, were each of them born a human being before they were apotheosized by the crown and by law and custom. Every human being had a soul; therefore, every human being had a daemon.

So the Emperors of Astandalas must have had daemons.

But by tradition and ritual and magic and taboo: The Emperors of Astandalas did not have daemons.

you laugh and you gleam with that roguish air by lindsayraindrops

Notorious rebel-poet Fitzroy Angursell is captured and brought to the Palace of Stars. Cliopher... copes.

(A reunion.)

with a winged heart by celebros

"Cliopher. Cliopher. Cliopher."

I blink. It's Conju, standing with his hands on my shoulders, and I go to answer him and realize that I am already speaking, babbling, and Franzel is behind him, wringing his hands and looking near tears. I try to focus on what I'm saying, but it's like a stream, light and splashing past me, too quick to hold, not enough to catch, somehow, somehow –

(A few weeks before the start of the viceroyship ceremonies, Kip finds himself the unwitting recipient of a truth serum)

The Virtue of Being True by electropeach

"You're under an enchantment, Cliopher. The good news is that the protections his Radiancy has placed on you have shielded you; the bad news is that the protections that block the spell are also reflecting it, meaning that instead of you it affects everyone who comes near you. You may have noticed an unusual propensity for candor in your vicinity today?"

A reverse truth serum plot leads to Cliopher having a very strange day.

even a cat may look at a king. by mage-pie (looselipssinksubs) (Note: This fic is marked as abandoned, but it has some really great scenes that it's still worth a read imo)

"Hello, hello, hello!” said his Radiancy’s serval. She said it, in words, in Shaian, in a pleasant voice that came from her little snout quite naturally. “Good morning!” “Good…morning…?” said Cliopher, too shocked to control his voice. His mongoose got out of his bag and scrambled up onto his shoulder with an excited little squeak, her claws prickling through the tunic. “I have good news and bad news!” the serval continued happily. “Don’t you want to know what it is?” Cliopher could only stare. “Good news, I’ve figured out how to talk!” She lashed her tail excitedly, and finished with her voice full of enormous glee, “Bad news… I’ve figured out how to talk.”

The entire city of Solaara wakes up one day attached to magical animals that display each person’s innermost self with no regard for court protocol or even basic manners. It’s pure chaos… and that’s before the Emperor accidentally gives the soul-animals the power of speech.

[llondonfog]

For a painful soulamte au, what if the Dawn Knight was Lilias soulmate? And to make it more painful what if Dawn knew that Lilia was his soulmate somehow and still went to war with the fae because he couldn't stand to go against the family who raised him

Not a soul knew, except for Leia.

Leia knew because she knew everything about him— the leash of loyalty around his neck, the weight of despair upon his shoulders, the mark of his soulmate tattooed like a harbinger on the inside of his wrist.

Leia knew, and loved him for it all the same.

You are a knight, she would remind him on those moonless nights, delicate features as solemn as a saint as she laid her hands against the haunted hollows of his face, as merciful and sweet as her namesake. You are the only one out of them all who has the right to call himself so. What greater sacrifice have you given to my father, to our family, than the cost of love?

He loved her, too.

Her effortless charm and wit were always happy to fill his awkward and stoic silences, and she never shamed him for his reserved nature. She was a princess, born and raised to be a queen, and it sat right inside his heart that she should realize such a vision. Her kindness to their people, her kindness to her traitor of a knight— too kind, to allow him even into her arms and bed when his nerves fail him and the shadows creep in.

It's what he feels, when he places his hand on the swell of her gown, the gentle life growing inside of her: their child, steeped in kindness.

A tragic beginning that can only lead to a tragic end.

Leia is the only kindness that he's ever known, and the irony is not lost on him that she is not his soulmate, nor is he her own. She does not speak of the mark blurred and faded on her skin, and she does not press him for explanation when he disrobes for her and only her, and the bat in flight unfurls its wings upon his wrist.

She does not need to, for they both know whose standard he bears, whose symbol lays a claim that would spell betrayal and doom for his fate.

He lies there within the shelter of her embrace, her slim fingers weaving through his golden hair, and he wonders what manner of mark lies on the fae general's wrist. He wonders if it is of a gleaming sword raised to strike, or a loathsome owl, talons curled, both prepared to rid the fae of his heart and gift it to the enemy's feet. It must not be obvious, because the fae has never reacted to his presence beyond the expected vitriol to their immoral crusade. And each time that they meet, the gratitude of a coward lances through his veins for the sake of the helmet obscuring his expression— it is your eyes that give you away, Leia had murmured to him, her own dark and forgiving as they glitter in the candlelight. Your truest emotions lie within them, crystal clear and as unclouded as the brightest dawn.

He does not deserve her unshakeable belief, for he feels like the muddiest of waters, choked with debris and tainted by waste.

He does not deserve her, and as he clutches at his wrist in the night, nails all but digging into the taut flesh as if to pull the bat from his skin—

He knows that he does not deserve the general either.