#dame reveal it please

[sexynetra]

[methoughtsphantom]

HELL YEAH CROWN PRINCE PHANTOM whose ectoplasmic signature readings are obviously higher than that of his dad’s, who’s still filtering the corrupted ectoplasm and that takes time, (which is why he only wears the crown and not the ring.) So imagine, imagine that the imaginary of the vengeful angel was only visible to Danny, just like the crown, like imperceptible to human eyes kinda thing. To Batman Red Hood is just another ecto-entity who caught him off guard, and so he has to be better prepared. He goes see the JLD to ask for more information about these entities. They tell him one is the ghost king. Cuz mages can get a read in signatures and one is off the charts level powerful, or maybe Batman just had a scanner I dunno, point is Batman wrongly deduces whose the ghost king in this situation. After all, only one was able to actually display a tangible supernatural form and readings that remained steady during the scan. ((Jason’s are unreliable, funky if he’s not trying and bitch-you-better-start-running if he is.))

So. Batman wants to summon the ghost king. He doesn’t see a reason to involve the JL, just him and Constantine, who’s like ?? I heard there was new management, but…so new that the king’s a literal child?? okay I gotta see this. im putting a bunch of binds and spells so the ghost won’t be able to cross the summoning circle. Like Constantine just has Batman’s initial assessment and a power chart. Bruce’s detailed report indicates the kid has no experience on battle combat and instead just heavily relies on his powers (list of known powers not conclusive), but is still a threat that knows his and his associates secret identity. Curiously, the Bat also put that the kid is heavily suspected of being emotionally compromised.

Anyways

They expect a child.

They get the Red Hood.

Red Hood, who is still a bat, and still trained with assassins. Motherfucker whose ectoplasm readings are again so funky he can pass through the summoning’s restrains and binds as if they are not there. He’s such a little shit about how he’s sprinting the whole thing. He’s ghost adjacent enough he can turn intangible. He’s an expert on combat who can fucking predict what the bat’s planning to pull because he fought alongside him. Dramatic bitch saw Batman and immediately went to throw hands. Especially when the the Bat tries to pull off a gun on him.

Jason: oh so you’re using guns now??? you’re really such a hypocrite!!

Batman: I’m not the one whose letting a child cover for their criminal activities!!

…

Batman, at some point: I would never hurt my own son!!

Jason:

Jason: 🤡

…

Batman: how do you know our identities???

Jason, who didn’t know B knew he knew and who also had a pretty hardcore pretty little liars phase ✨: two can keep a secret if one of them is dead. bitch.

Batman:

Batman: this is confirmation. a dead figure from my past told him i’m Batman

…..

Batman, who’s still trying to see an angle to the Red Hood: You are obviously unfit to take care of a child

Jason:

Danny, 15 and thoroughly done with everyone's crap, steals the Crown of Fire and the Skeleton Key and uses the later to find a suitable new High King for the Infinite Realms. The key (also known as Deaths kay) acted like a sort of Infi-map but lacked the limitations of needing a natural portal to spawn in that time/location and could get you past any wards/protections no mater how powerful.

The key spawns him just in front of the form of a sleeping Jason Todd, and Danny decided he wasn't going to question the magical keys judgment and just plops the crown on a bleary and startled Jasons head.

The crown burned for this guy, signaling that it found him worthy and that was more than enough for Danny.

With no context whatsoever, Danny looked Jason in the eye, burning neon green meeting with wide greenish blue, "You're our king now."

Then he vanished.

Jason later finds that the Lazarus entity left behind a handmade pamphlet. It was immensely unhelpful.

[daemour]

Dame Blanche Au Péche [C.S]

✿ Pairing: farmhand (again)! San x f! lady! YN

✿ Word count: 1450

✿ Genre: historical au, fluff, smut, light angst

✿ Warnings: none, smut warnings under cut

✿ Summary: Although many lords approach you with the intent of marriage, you only have eyes for one person...your lead farmhand.

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Written for Tipsy Drabbles <3 had this done in july but kept putting off the posting lol. and yes...this was supposed to be posted on daeddy but i put the wrong un on the banner and i dont have the file anymore :(((

-

✿ Smut Warnings: Oral (m), deepthroating, come swallowing, fingering (f), some dirty talk, wall sex, unprotected sex (!! don't do !!), creampie

“I can provide you with so much if you accept my proposal.” The young lord standing before attempts to grasp your hands but you gracefully dodge his touch.

“I have all I need,” you smile, letting your fan rest on your left cheek as you tilt your head ever so slightly. “Thank you for your visit.”

The man frowns and turns to leave, disappointed by his failure. As soon as he disappears from your sight, you look behind you to see your lead farmhand standing just behind the corner. He catches your gaze easily and you wink, slowly opening your fan wide. His face brightens and he turns to leave the other way. You can’t help but to smile at his eagerness, quickly gathering your skirts to follow him shortly after.

This isn’t the first time this has happened. As the only owner of the local peach orchard, and a woman at that, many young men have tried to ask for your hand, hoping to be able to take over the farm.

But like you told the young lord just now, you have everything you need. Your servants help around the house, and your farmhands keep your orchards tidy. And the leader, San, helps you more than you’d care to admit out loud.

As you step into the barn, a hand grabs your waist and spins you around. You giggle as you face a pouting San. “Hello, Mr ‘Everything I Need’,” you lean in to press a kiss to the tip of his nose and he scrunches it up adorably.

“I wish they’d stop proposing,” San mumbles sullenly. “You say ‘no’ everytime. When will they learn?”

You hum, carding your hand through his hair. “Sorry, Sanah. My money is just too tempting for them, but all I’ll do is turn them away. I promise.”

San sighs loudly, his arms tightening around your waist. “I know. I just want to keep you all to myself...”

Instead of replying, you bury your face in San’s hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “You’re the only one for me, Sanah,” you soothe him “You’re perfect, San. I couldn’t ever let you go.”

As you speak, you can feel San’s grip on your waist tighten even more as he peppers kisses on the skin of your neck where his head rests.

“Sanah, let me show you how much I care for you, okay? Please?” you hum into his hair.

Before gracing you with a response, his hands find the lacing of your dress and he quickly undoes them to pull the front of your dress down to reveal your breasts. “You wanna show me?” he all but growls. “Then get on your knees.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, you pick up your skirts and sink down, uncaring about the dirt getting on your white gown. With eager unhands you undo San’s belt and pull his half-hard cock out of hisp ants. Before he can say or do anything, you take the tip in your mouth and press your tongue against the tip, tasting the salty precum already beading.

San’s hands fly down to grasp your hair, his fingernails scratching your scalp and tugging at your locks. “Shit!” is the only word he manages to say.

You let his length rest in your mouth as your hands wrap around the base of his dick, grip tightening just enough to coax breathy moans out of your lover. Without much further warning, you let your head sink lower onto his cock, taking in the scent of his body as your throat tightens around San.

His whines and whimpers only serve to make you more eager, and you quickly take his cock down your throat completely, gagging around him and feeling yourself grow more wet at the feeling of his cock twitching in your throat.

It doesn’t take San long to finally reach orgasm, shooting ropes of hot come down your throat as his hips buck into your mouth subconsciously. Your nails dig into his thighs as you grip his legs to keep him buried deep in your throat.

When you finally pop off his dick, drops of come still slide down your chin and throat, pooling in your collarbones and staining your dress. “Well, I sure hope you’re planning on taking my dress to the cleaners for me, San. It’s a pain to get the stains out myself–” your playful jibes are cut off by San wrapping his arms under your thighs and lifting you up. “San!” you squeal, hands flying to grab his shirt, arms thrown around his shoulders.

“It’s my turn, my lady,” he hums, carrying you to the wall of the barn, pinning you between the sealed wood and his chest as he reaches down and presses his fingers against your sopping cunt. “Look at you, so ready for me. So ready to please.” Quickly, he taps your arms to get you to raise them as he pulls the dress over your head, leaving you in your slip.

It’s your turn to whine, pressing your face into his neck as your legs wrap around his waist. His fingers skillfully play with your clit, drawing more broken moans out of your mouth. It doesn’t take you long to grow impatient, sinking your teeth into the junction of his shoulder and neck. “Fuck me already,” you beg. “Please, I want to be filled up by you. Keep your come in my cunt and–”

Before you can continue your prodding, you throw your head back and moan as San pushes the head of his already-hard cock into your pussy. It stretches you out so deliciously, and you can’t help but wiggle your hips a little to try and get it further into you.

“Stop moving,” San groans, his hand squeezing your waist. “Unless you want me to come already you need to sit still.”

He punctuates his words with a harsh thrust and you groan, dropping your head back into the crook of his neck. It’s moments like these you strongly appreciate the strength of his arms as he holds you up like you weigh almost nothing. His hands push you down slightly so that his cock spears you even deeper, pressing against the perfect spot at the perfect angle, and you keep your face buried in his neck as you mouth at the sun kissed skin.

One of San’s firm arms wrap around your waist as his other moves back down to press a thumb against your clit. “Ah– San–” you hiss, your nails digging into his shoulder blades. “Please–”

“God, you always sound so pretty when you beg,” San sighs, his cock twitching with every soft pant and whine you emit. The wet sounds of your fucking fill the barn, and you’re vaguely relieved the rest of your employees are done for the day. “You’re squeezing around me so fucking well. Look at me, baby.”

It takes you a moment, but you finally raise your head only to be met by San pressing his lips onto yours, kissing you deeply as he thrusts one last time and comes, holding you down on his cock. You can feel your stomach tightening and your legs shaking as you come with a broken whine, hands scratching down San’s back as your eyes roll back in your head.

It takes you a moment to catch your breath, but San is already wiping you clean with your discarded dress and you laugh breathily and smack his shoulder. “San! That’s my dress!”

He shrugs. “It’s already dirty, my lady. Don’t worry, Joohyun is the best at getting stains out.”

You groan, amusedly. “Just because she can doesn’t mean we should subject her to deal with our…times together. Give it to me, I’ll deal with it later.”

San laughs but hands you the dress, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple as he does so. “I love you, YN. You know I’ll stay with you for as long as I live, right?”

You hum, leaning against his broad shoulders as you fold your dress neatly. “I do. And…and soon, I promise, I’ll declare my love for you from the rooftops. I just need more time. Build enough money that the town cannot lose me. Cannot afford to ostracise me.”

A frown pulls at San’s lips as he strokes your back. “I don’t care about their words, their judgement. You’re the one I need.”

His words warm your heart from inside out. “Then we’ll get married next year, in this orchard. I promise you.”

San’s eyes soften as he leans down to capture your lips once more, the kiss full of promises and dreams. “I’ll hold you to that, my lady.”

[mothandpidgeon]

P Boy Podcasts

I was swapping podcast recs with @schnarfer and asked her what kind of podcasts would each of the Pedro boys host? (I’m a bit of a podcast junkie. I'm literally listening to one right now.) Well, we were brainstorming and I went and created episode art for each of their shows. Which ones are you subscribing to?

Nic on Nic Get a peek into the brain of legendary talent Nicolas Cage. Cage collaborator (and fanboy) Javi Guttierez is watching everything from Con Air to National Treasure 2. Take a deep dive into the films of Nic Cage and hear exclusive interviews with the man himself.

The Unfortunates There are spies living among us, everyday people living double lives. What makes them do it? And how do they keep their secrets? Each week, Dave York shares a true story from the clandestine world of espionage. 

Foundlings Din Djarin’s parenting journey has never gone to plan because he never planned on becoming a dad! Come along as he navigates the challenges of single parenting a 50 year old son. Each week Din leads insightful discussions with a range of guests— pediatricians, parenting experts, and  other parents that are just trying to figure it all out.

Declassified Drugs, danger, and dames. The fall of Escobar made way for the Cali Cartel. Hear the story from  Agent Javier Pena as he recalls the hunt for the Cali Cartel and reveals details that have never been heard before. 

Tales from the Green Ezra shares spooky fales of distant worlds on this anthology fiction podcast. All set on the Green Moon, these bizarre and enthralling stories introduce you to a lush world filled with intrigue and danger. 

Heist The Mona Lisa only became a cultural icon after it was stolen in 1911. Learn about the greatest capers in the art world with host Marcus Pike. Hear first hand accounts going undercover during his time in the FBI. 

No Cap 4 best friends chat about anything and everything. Hear Santi, Will, Frankie, and Ben give their takes on dating, travel, and current events. You’ll love listening to them react to r/aita. 

UNKNOWN ZONE Alien encounter? Evidence of the lost city of Atlantis? Ghost fucking? Sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction. Join celebrity host Dieter Bravo for real life brushes with the unknown!

Joel’s Construction Corner Have a burning home improvement question? Or maybe you just like a southern drawl? Host Joel Miller has 30 years of experience in contracting and he’s here to share his advice with you. As soon as he figures out how to use this damn computer. Ellie does the ad reads with a pun for every one. 

Hungry History What does the invention of margarine have to do with Napoleon? Did Marco Polo really introduce pasta to Italy? Which Founding Father had a craving for ice cream? Follow your stomach to discover the origins of your favorite foods as we travel back in time with host Pero Tovar. 

--

I might've gone overboard. But I wish these all existed???

If you reblog this please rec me your favorite podcasts in the tags.

[pedropascallme]

☆Kinktober 2024☆

Day 12: Mutual masturbation

Pairing: Damien Haas x f!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI!!!!) mutual masturbation, mild dom/sub dynamics (softdom!Damien is BACK baby!!) dirty talk, little bit of cum play, if I missed anything please let me know!

AN: I actually wrote another mutual masturbation fic with Damien a few months ago, so if that's your thing, you can find it here :D

He wasn’t ignoring you—not purposefully.

Damien had tucked away in a corner of the house, glued to the screen of the desktop computer.

You approached quietly, watching the muscle in his wrist just barely flex when he clicked the mouse.

For as long as you’d been together—and prior to that, as long as you’d been friends—you knew Damien was the type to get hung up on small details. He’d focus until he was burnt out; he’d try to deal with everything in one go and become deeply frustrated when that backfired on him.

He was detail oriented, almost painstakingly so.

At least right now he was hyper-focused on something harmless, something that brought him real joy.

Still, it was going on midnight, and you wanted him in bed with you—for the more selfish purposes, yes, but also because he’d be mad at himself if he stayed up too late, which would morph into a deep-seated grumpiness that would, in turn, make him feel guilty.

“Do you plan on coming to bed on your own tonight?” You draped an arm loosely over his shoulder, leaning over him, “Or am I going to have to drag you there myself?”

Damien leaned his head back against you, eyes glued to the computer screen. It was Elder Scrolls, you knew that much, but which version, you couldn’t tell.

“I’m playing,” he was smiling, that toothy, lopsided grin that he wore, an expression of unbridled joy and genuine amusement.

Your favorite version of him.

“It’s late, Dames…” You bent down and pressed your face into his neck, brushing your lips to his skin.

He let out a contented sigh. “Late to you. To a vampire—very early.”

You removed yourself from his neck, taking the two steps forward that let you position yourself in front of him, leaning the back of your thighs on his desk.

“Game will still be there in the morning…” You reached out to brush your knuckles over his cheek.

He turned his head slightly, ghosting a kiss over your hand. “But I’m…I dunno…” He huffed, still smiling, but his brow creased slightly. “It’s been such a busy week and I want to unwind. And even though it’s late and I’m exhausted, I’m not…tired.” He explained, pulling your hand from his face and lacing his fingers with yours.

You lifted yourself onto the desk, careful not to push anything off the surface.

“Well…I can think of plenty of ways to tire you out…” You purred, and though you meant it as a tease, you were only half joking.

Damien leaned back against the chair he was in, letting your hand go in favor of reaching out to hold your leg.

“Go on.” He smirked, rolling his shoulders.

“I mean, I could—” You tried to rattle off a list of the first depraved things that came to mind, but he cut you off, squeezing your thigh.

“Don’t tell me,” his smirk contorting into a wolfish grin, “Show me.”

You bit lazily at your bottom lip.

“Right here?” There was a ghost of a smile on your face, the merriment you felt momentarily winning out over the lust that had begun to swell within you.

“It’s what you’re thinking about right now, isn’t it?” Damien removed his grip from your leg, bringing his hands behind his head. He spread his thighs and quirked a brow. “Go ahead, princess.”

You stared down at him from your perch on the desk, sucking the inside of your cheeks for a moment as you considered his challenge.

You gave in immediately.

“Fine,” You put your hands on your thighs, leaning forward for emphasis. “I will.”

Leisurely, your fingers danced under the hem of your sleep shirt, tugging at the fabric. You lifted it over your head slowly, revealing your bare chest to him, your nipples pebbling from exposure to the air of the room.

You tossed your shirt in Damien’s lap, and he grabbed it with both hands, white knuckling the fabric, his gaze piercing. He let out a sigh, a soft growl, urging you to continue.

You put your hands on your neck, trailing your palms down over the swell of your breasts and over your stomach, fingertips grazing the waistband of your shorts. You brought them back up to your chest, kneading the supple flesh, pinching your nipples. The feeling sent shivers down your spine, and you subconsciously arched into your own touch.

“I would’ve gotten you to make a lot more noise by now.” Damien’s voice was smug, but his jaw was tight.

Defying his words as best you could, you caught his eyes, letting out a breathy moan while you rolled your nipple between your thumb and forefinger.

Damien took a deep breath, as if to collect himself. His head tilted back slightly, but he found your gaze again and matched it.

“Feels better when I do it, doesn’t it?” He asked, and you squeaked.

“You said I should show you what I want,” you mumbled, dropping your head to watch your hands massage your breasts. “That’s what I’m doing, Damien.”

“And this is what you want, princess?” He smiled, “You want me to tire myself out by playing with your tits?” He let go of your shirt, tossing it to the floor, and shifting in his seat.

The way he said it, gravelly and pleased, made you swallow down a whimper.

But the way he’d moved the obstruction of your shirt from his lap and spread his legs wider to reveal the obvious tent in his sweatpants made your lips part to allow the sound out.

“I have other ideas, if this doesn’t do it for you…” You mewled, still palming your chest.

He didn’t grace you with a verbal response, offering a simple nod, darkened eyes goading you.

You let your hands fall down your body, shimmying out of your shorts and exposing yourself to him. You spread your legs, shifting your weight on the desk in a teasing display.

“Fuck,” Damien’s voice was strained; still domineering but having more trouble holding it together now. “Were you—were you this wet when you came in here, or is that just…?” He shifted his jaw, grinding his teeth and letting his sentence trail off.

You were spurred on by his lapse in dominance, enjoying the fact that you could get him so distracted and wound up by simply flashing your bare cunt to him.

You dragged your hand over your stomach, stopping when your fingers brushed over your clit. You let out a needy sound. Wound up so tightly after groping yourself and listening to him speak over your movements, you were convinced you could cum just like this.

Your fingers spread you apart, fully exposing your glistening hole, and Damien groaned as you circled yourself with your fingers.

“Come on,” his lips parted as he stared, the rise and fall of his chest becoming more pronounced. “Show me.”

Maintaining eye contact with him, you dipped an albeit shaky finger into your sex, down to the knuckle. Your breath caught in your throat, eyes closing briefly as you finally gave your body what it had been craving.

You rocked your hips, slowly thrusting the digit in and out of yourself.

“There you go…” Damien smiled up at you wickedly, “Look at you, princess, so self-sufficient. Is this you trying to tell me that you only want one of my fingers?”

You shook your head, moaning, and pushed another finger inside yourself.

With a groan, Damien gave in to his own urges completely, and you watched him hook a thumb under the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down enough to release his cock. It bounced against him, tip wet with precum, and you whimpered.

He licked his palm, bringing his hand down to smear the precum and his spit down his length and subconsciously matching the rhythm of your fingers as you pumped them in and out.

“This is what you were thinking about, isn’t it?” The question was entirely rhetorical—he knew what you were thinking, knew you were as desperate to get fucked as he was to fuck you.

You offered a weak nod, the pressure of your release building slowly but surely somewhere deep behind your stomach.

You brought one of your legs up, pressing your foot against the surface of the desk to switch the angle to one that would get you there faster.

Damien groaned, sliding his hand over his cock, using the image of you spread out and fucking yourself on his desk to chase his own release.

“Good, princess,” he spoke through clenched teeth, the muscle in his jaw twitching, “Say it. Say that you’re thinking about getting fucked.”

Your breath was stuttered, fingers curling into the tender spot inside you.

“I—yeah, I’m thinking about—about getting fucked…” You managed to squeak out, heavily lidded eyes tracking the movement of his hand over his cock.

“Yeah—yeah, by who?” He coaxed you, twisting his wrist. He watched you drip over your fingers, coating yourself in your own juices, and it was an exercise in self-control for him to not lean forward and press his face into your cunt; lap you up and lick you clean.

“You, Damien,” your eyes closed, your jaw dropped, and you felt the familiar buzz take over your body. “You.”

“Fuck, that’s right,” he keened at your words, brow furrowed as he watched you near your high. “You can do it, baby, you’re so close—fuck your hand, let me see you make yourself cum.”

You were in exactly the right spot, and upon hearing his words, you felt a swell of pleasure; something pushing down on your body in all the right ways, contorting you and satisfying you as your walls clenched and your back arched.

You moaned, letting out unsteady breaths to match your trembling thighs. You continued to press your fingers into yourself, mimicking as best you could the way he always prolonged your pleasure until it became overwhelming, brushing your delicate spots and making you cry out.

“Oh, fuck—” Damien moaned at the sight, the shiver that overtook your body and made you cry out for him. He fucked his fist faster at the thought of how you’d look beneath him, crying that way and begging for more of him. “You’re so fucking pretty, baby, you’re so—you’re so perfect. Fuck, I’m gonna cum…” He jerked himself quickly, spilling over his hand with a low moan.

He panted, all but going limp in his seat as his head fell back, a parallel to the way you had slumped against the wall behind you, taking heaving breaths after you’d finally removed your fingers from your cunt.

He picked his head up, admiring you with a soft smile.

“What?” You scoffed, smiling back at him.

“I’m still not tired.” He smirked at you.

Moving off the desk in a manner most ungraceful, you took his playfulness as permission to drape yourself over his lap, sagging against him and grabbing his wrist.

“That’s a shame…” You brought his hand to your mouth, sucking on his fingers and savoring the bitter spend that had dripped over him. “Gonna just sit here and play games you’ve already played all night?” You quirked a brow, swirling your tongue over his middle finger before dropping his hand.

“Oh,” he smiled, wrapping his arms around you, “I’m gonna play, just…probably not out here and definitely not on this computer.”

He stood, lifting you, and you laughed.

“Monitor is still on.” You nuzzled against him, and he tilted his face down at you.

“Baby, I love your mindfulness, but I could not care less about what’s happening on that screen right now.”

[naniwatig3r]

AT YOUR SIDE (18+)

Knight!Hoshi x Knight!Femreader

Summary: You work hard everyday as a dame, a female knight. Proving your place. Finally you snap when your fellow knights, including your brigade’s leader, Kwon Soonyoung don’t match your discipline.

Warnings: some ranting about misogyny, f oral recieving, fingering, unprotected penetrative sex, inaccurate medieval history (did not research)

a/n: Based on those beautiful photos of Hoshi in armor from the spell mv <333 Also fic is unedited and out of my ass 😞 first fic here, please provide feedback

Word count: 4.9k

—————————

The sun glares, making the heavy chain armor and plates hot to touch. Sweat collecting at your brow as as you swing your sword, whishing through the heated air into the straw dummy in front of you. The sword sinks in, the beautiful heavy feeling that you’re so accustomed to for the last few years.

But relishing in the zone of your training doesn’t last long. As you hear boistering laughter, straightening back up with your heavy sword. How the other knights act like fools; laughing and making crude jokes of women, beer, or whatever antics they get up to. But not you. Since you were a squire, you’ve worked so hard to be here. Being a woman, it was not easy. Harder than everyone else, you think, if someone would just lend an ear and listen.

But you made your way. Hardening yourself from the sexist and crude jokes, the hard training, and the hazing of the knight you were a squire for. Until you were finally knighted.

You thought that was it, finally, being with the dedicated knights that worked as hard as you, that could recognize your dutiful determination. The way your muscles ached until you could scream during training. The way you’ve laid down the life of many for the sake of your kingdom. How you’ve dedicated your life to finally stand as a Royal knight.

Oh but you were wrong. So wrong. Even with the acknowledgment of the king, the passive looks, the way no one took you seriously, it was one thing. But when the knights you oh so respected finally revealed their true colors from behind the public perception, it boiled your blood. The drinking, the abuse of power, the lack of training.

And the worse of all, the leader of the royal knights, Kwon Soonyoung. Hoshi, the Kingdom’s Tiger, The Wild Suzerian, the Kingdom’s secret weapon.

He laughs back, his damp hair glistening in the sun from — what you’d consider — minimal training. As he leans back onto a wooden post, surrounded by the other knights as they speak of things you care nothing about.

It wasn’t fair. You thought, as you grip the hilt of your sword tightly. You were boiling in the heavy metal, weighed down by the pounds of chain mail. Something that you were used to, but was somehow more suffocating today from the excessive heat. Soonyoung was just wearing a loose linen shirt, the strings loosely tied.

You strike down on the dummy once more.

Grunting, you feel your hands clam under the gloves. The sweat traveling to all the way to the tips of your fingers. Soonyoung wasn’t suffering like this, you thought. Hands free as he shoves the other knights as he laughs loudly, leaning so casually against the wooden post. His trousers tight like he wasn’t meaning to train at all, just to come to personally spite.

Another slash across the dummy.

How the corner of his lips curve into an irritating smile, does he care at all? Like the kingdom doesn’t rely in him, how people of the kingdom see him as a savior, how the King praises him? The way his eyes squint and sparkle under the sun, like he’s allowed to be this relaxed. Not fair, not fair, not fair.

You let out a loud cry as you swing your sword hard as you can, surprisingly, cutting through the worn out dummy. The straw torso dropping to the rough dirt, as the swing of the sword makes you stumble. Throwing the hilt of it onto the ground, free from it’s weight.

You grab your helmet, throwing it to the ground in anger, freeing your face finally as you can breathe. The small slits and openings of the helmet restricting your breathing too much before. You take a deep breath, as you whip your head towards Soonyoung, the other royal knights, who now stare at you. From your loud outburst, and surprise at the cut dummy in half.

“Are you all insane?” You say loudly, panting as you stare at them angrily. Sweat beading down your forehead, strands of your long hair slick against your skin.

“Royal knights — how laughable,” You scoff, as you flicker your eyes between them all. Barely clad in their respective armor, Their swords hung up on the weapon rack. “Laughing like a bunch of little boys, while the Kingdom is preparing for war.” You hiss, as you point at the weapon rack, “Swords hung, dusty, with cobwebs, the way you all indulge in vices as our people beg for help in rural villages, how our people in the inner city speak on crimes and injustices.” You continue bitterly, unhooking your gloves, throwing them onto the dirt with a huff. (It was fine, your squire will pick it up.)

“The audacity of the lot of you,” You hiss, spitting at the floor before stomping away, back to the knight quarters, to peel the sweaty hot metal off you. Heating from the blistering sun, and the boiling of your blood. Through your anger you’re oblivious to the attention following you as you head for the barracks. The eyes of the Kingdom’s tiger focused steady on the back of your head, as you walk off.

—

You huff frustratingly, as you throw the chain mail onto the wooden bench, finally feeling relief as your bare skin is freed. Hands on your hips, as you kick the nearest chest with anger, grimacing as you withstand the pain of your foot as you continue to beat the poor chest.

“Angry little thing aren’t you?” You hear, the voice soft and amused. Making you still, as you put your foot down. “First the dummy, now that chest. Keep that up and the treasury will cry over the new supplies we’ll need replacing.”

You turn, seeing Soonyoung. Your breath hitching as he leans on the wall, arms crossed, relaxed and inquisitive. His head tilted, his eyes boring into you. An easy smile on his face, like your outburst meant nothing at all. Which didn’t aid in all in your simmering temper.

“Sir Kwon,” You address, keeping formalities despite what happened only a minute ago. “I apologize,” You grit, glancing your eyes away. “The heat has gotten to me, I could not turn a blind eye to the lack of training.” You say, gripping your bare fist tight, running over the calloused skin of your knuckles.

All you can hear is a snicker, in the quiet barracks, as he uncrosses his arms and stalks over. Making you sieze up slightly, not used to his presence like this. Sure, you were on the same brigade, following under his leadership, but he never paid attention to you. There was nothing to scold, the way you train so consistently, how you run laps around the other royal knights despite your recent accolade. So his eyes, so carefully trained on you, made your skin crawl.

“No need to,” He starts lightly, “It was fun. Seeing you finally under that dutiful attitude of yours.” He grins, “Tell me, was it really the sun that made you break?” He asks, tilting his head, like a taunt.

This made you tense, readjusting the tightness of your fists. This was nothing, you thought. Many have belittled you, made fun of you, hazed you. So why was it that just a simple knowing smile made you want to scream? To choke out the famous Kingdom’s Tiger?

“It was the sun, sir,” You say quietly and shortly. Looking into his eyes, your gaze determined and strong, how it always was.

He hums, nodding his head, “Right, I see. Must be because of all that armor.” He muses, smiling, as he glances at the mess of the layers of your knight armor scattered on the bench and floor in a frenzy. “It’s not required you know,” He says, “To be in full attire during training all the time. Especially in this heat.” He continues.

You shake my head, “It’s duty and how I was taught. I must always be ready and comfortable in the attire. In training, at war, at duty.” You recite, your words firm. It also had to do with your status as a woman. You never showed up in anything less than your required armor. It made you feel like you belonged, that the curves of your body were shielded. That your combat and dedication combined with hiding under all of those layers, you were seen on the same level as all the other royal knights.

He sighs, “Sad,” He begins, “A lady ought to know that she was born with weapons of her own.” He says, trailing his eyes. “You know theres more ways to fight than holding a sword, don’t you, dame y/n?” He says, his tone light, condescending in your ears.

You scowl, as you look down and realize the extent of your exposure. Your chest wrapped in bandages for security, breasts straining against them. Your loose linen trousers thin enough that the curves of your hips press against the fabric. You bite your tongue, “Of course, as a man you see that.” You start lowly, “But as you said, I am a dame, a knight. The only thing that matters is my duty to the king and the sword in my hand, just like you.”

Soonyoung grins, amused at your response. His eyes still trained on you, like predator to prey. For a moment you see how he earned the title of the Kingdom’s tiger, the way his eyes dance around you like you’re his next target. “Admirable,” He says, “Frustrating, but admirable.” He admits, crossing his arms as he steps even closer. The smell of him was strangely intoxicating, of pine and a layer of musk that was actually nice. Nothing like the gagging smell of sweat and men you were accustomed to.

“You’re tightly wound, dame y/n.” He states. His expression hardening slightly, “You’re dedicated, skilled. But your lack of flexibility is worrying. Misery should not be your only state.” He says, his eyes glowering into you. Making you tense with anger.

You? Unflexible? Living in misery? “What would you know, sir?” You grit, “You don’t know how hard it was to be knighted in my position.” you say, eyes narrowing, eyebrows furrowing. “I don’t choose, that is just how it is. While you all monkey around, I must uphold. No one will ever see the extent of my hardwork and dedication, but God will. And so will the king.” you spit, glowering as your knuckles turn white from your hard fists.

Soonyoung raises his brows, but doesn’t back down. Its infuriating, the way he doesn’t flinch. How he looks down at you from his height, already feeling like mock without doing anything. The worst of it, how your chest tightens at how his eyes look, curious and listening.

“No one will see?” He repeats, “Thats wrong, dame y/n.” He says flatly, “Who do you think recommended you for the knighting ceremony?” He starts, making your eyes widen at what he’s confessing.

He shakes his head, sighing, “I’m not claiming it was all me.” He starts, “I frequented the squire quarters many times. Looking for talent, as the king prepared for war. I watched you. Your skill definitely aided in the fast track of your knighthood.” He says, his eyes focused on you solely, like the room was fading out. “Training until you passed out, up at 5 everyday, taking orders from your assigned knight with no hesitation.” He lists, stepping closer, making you stumble back, but the more you step back, he continues to close distance.

“The way you swing your sword,” He says lowly, licking his lips, like he’s replaying the many times he’s seen you practice and fight. “How much power in that delicate body of yours, the technique of it. Hell, the way you sliced the training dummy in half like a loaf of bread.” He says, his voice hurriedly, excited the more he lists things he admires about you.

Your back is against the wall now, the cobbled stone rough against your bare skin. Your eyes wide, mouth agape speechless at Soonyoung’s specific praises. He leans forward, placing a hand next to the wall as he traps you in. “No one will see you say?” He says, flickering his eyes as he gazes at you intensely. “Y/n, forget the King, God, or whatever validation you seek for. I’m right here.”

Your eyes widen, breath hitched as you hear his words. The infamous wild sezarian is a fan of yours? Supported you until you finally got what you deserved, and this whole time you stared at him in envy and bitterness. But you couldn’t forgive the blasphemy of his words, “Watch your mouth sir,” You manage to say, “Thats heresy! you could —“

“What? Get in trouble?” He muses, breath fanning over your face. “Tell me, would you report me?” He asks, his free hand moving up to push a strand of hair away from your face, rendering you still. “You might, you’re so dutiful, aren’t you my dame?” He says lightly, like you’re his.

He bounces his gaze around your face, taking it in. This time, no helmet, just your hair framing your face, close as he’s ever seen it. And he can’t help but feel a swell of excitement. “Let me reward you,” He suggests, his voice breathy, “When was the last time you’ve truly been paid attention to?”

You gulp, swallowing hard under his burning gaze. Your skin heating once more, despite how the cold cobblestone wall is pressed against your back, only clad in thin linen and bandages. You feel your heart beat hard against your chest, so loud, Soonyoung must be able to hear it. It was a unrecognizable feeling, the way your knees weaken, a fluttering feeling starting to take root in your lower abdomen.

“Being a knight and doing my duty is rewarding enough.” You manage to choke out, a little proud that your words were steady coming out of your mouth.

Soonyoung rolls his eyes, “I’m sure thats true,” He says sarcastically, “But a human being, even as admirable as you deserves a break, don’t you think?” He points out, as he leans closer to that your noses could brush, making you take a sharp inhale. A chill down your spine that travels straight to your core.

“Dame y/n, is it that horrible to remember that you are a woman under that armor?” He whispers into your ear, his breath tickling your skin. “It is no curse on you. It what makes you so deliciously different and refreshing from the spoiled brats that think Knighthood is their right.” He says, firmly, “You should not mold yourself into such a miserable life where you forget who you are inherently. You deserve to have the same audacity of ones who can’t hold a candle to your hardwork.”

His hand travels from beside your ear, down to trail your jawline, to your neck, in a slow agonizing pace. Making you flutter your eyes in response, never having felt such a gentle touch in all years you’ve lived. “If they can indulge in vices, then you very well can too,” he whispers, moving his other hand that was trapping you in to caress your cheek. Leaning down to give you an open mouthed kiss on the side of your neck, making you gasp in response. “Let me give you what you deserve, y/n,” He says lowly, his breath ghosting your skin as he peppers gentle kisses.

“Sir!” You gasp, as grabs you by the waist tightly, right under your bandages. at the rough pads of his fingers feeling like they always belonged there. Your cheeks burn, flustered from his advances, your hands shooting up to grip his arms. Oh, how toned they are under the thin linen, hard against your hands as your resolve weakens.

“Sir, this is inappropriate, I’m a knight under —“

“Under me,” He murmurs, “Quite figuratively and literally, yes?” He says like it’s normal. Taking a deep breath as he kisses down to the swell of your breasts, the taste of your skin intoxicating. The smell and taste of your sweat from training mingled by the rose tonic you use when you bathe. He lets out a soft breath, running his hands down your binded chest until he lowers himself down to his knees. A sight you’ve never even dreamed of seeing in your lifetime.

He looks up at you, a look of arousal and focus, his fingers teasing the waistband of your linen trousers. Licking his lips in anticipation, his pupils dilated. Something you’ve only really seen right before the surge of battle. “Inappropriate, sure, but you haven’t pushed me away, have you, my dame?” He points out, knowing full well if you wanted to, he’d be flat on the ground for trying to advance on you.

He was right. You don’t know whats happening, but the need building in your abdomen, the way you push your thighs tightly together as you take a sharp breath, you wanted it. You wanted it bad.

The second the look in your eyes softens, a wild grin finds Soonyoung’s face, his eyes in the dimness of the room twinkling with a newfound vigor. Like a tiger really was in front of you. He claws at your lower abs, before pulling down the linen pants, revealing your cunt. Glistening, shamelessly showing how affected you were this whole time despite your attempts at being professional. You take a sharp breath, cheeks burning, sensitivity heightened under his gaze.

He leans in, taking a deep breath through his nose, as he licks a strip up your pussy in an agonizingly slow pace. The warmth of his tongue against your slickness making you involuntarily moan out, your hands immediately finding anchor on the cobblestone behind you.

“Beautiful,” He breathes, grabbing the hold of the back of your thigh, slinging one of your legs over his shoulder. The further access, making him kiss your clit with a gentleness that makes your stomach flutter, and a whimper escape your mouth. His eyes flickering to your face, as he smiles. “This cunt of yours,” He says shamelessly, making your cheeks flush further. “It’s been neglected too long.”

Immediately his mouth is back on you once more, tongue swirling a circle around your clit, sucking slightly as you buck your hips into his face. His hand holding your thigh on his shoulder in place, as you throw your head back against the stone wall. Lapping up your juices with a satisfied groan, your taste everything Soonyoung imagined and more. The soft whimpers from your mouth going straight to his cock, as it strains against his pants. Its heavenly, for both you and Soonyoung, as your eyes roll back unevenly from his ministrations.

He licks another stripe up your folds, this time settling his tongue into your opening, prodding it open as he hardens his tongue to intrude into you. The action making you cry out, pulling him closer with your leg around his shoulder. The way your pussy clenches excites him, feeling how you tense as he continues to tongue fuck you. Moaning as he does it, savoring your taste, the heat and scent of your cunt wholeheartedly. He moans, kissing your entrance as he mutters, “You taste so good,” He whines, “Divine, better than any bottle of wine.” He praises, flickering his eyes up to see your face contorted in pleasure.

Your eyebrows furrowed, eyes shut as you lose yourself in the feeling of Soonyoung’s mouth. The sight only making him more determined to pleasure you, as he keeps his steady eyes on you, he latches his mouth back around your clit, alternating from sucking and flicking with his tongue. You buck your hips, grinding against his mouth instinctively, gasping as you grab at the stone behind you.

He uses his free hand to finally stick one finger into you, the stretch warm, and easy, but tight as your walls clench around his finger. Soonyoung moans, his own eyes rolling back from just the tightness of your walls. Already getting off of the idea of you around his cock, as he ruts into you. His impatience showing as he doubles his efforts, sucking your swollen clit with fervor as he pumps another finger into you, curling his slender fingers until he feels your spongy flesh. Knowing he’s found the right spot as you basically double over, find your hands in his hair, gripping tightly.

Its mindnumbing, the combination of Soonyoung’s smart mouth and nimble fingers, as you feel the tight knot in your stomach build. You cry out, whimpers and whines escaping your throat as you tense, the feeling of pleasure starting to get overwhelming. “Sir, sir, I’m going to —“ You try and warn, before your voice cuts out as you gasp loudly. Hands tightly pulling on Soonyoungs’s hair as he grunts from your hands. Your body shuddering as you whine, riding out your high on Soonyoung’s face, his hand a tight grip on your ass. Seemingly determined to drown in your juices.

You pry his face off your cunt, as he seemed a bit lost in you. The over sensitivity making you push him away, as he pants, looking up at you with awe. He licks his lips, your slick allover his nose, mouth and chin. The filthy sight making you let out a sharp exhale of arousal, already feeling yourself start up again once more.

He stands up, pushing you back up against the wall, “Now taste,” He murmurs, closing in and molding his lips with yours. Warm and soft, as he pushes his tongue against yours. You moan, tasting your own juices on his tongue, as he kisses you with a slow pace. Pulling back, a trail of saliva and your arousal between your mouths. Licking his lips, as you stare back heavy lidded. “Tasted yourself, haven’t you?” He says breathlessly, “Can you see how ruined I am now that I have you?” He moans, as he grabs the bandages around your chest, using his strength to roughly rip them off with ease. His hands immediately coming up to massage your freed breasts, rubbing his thumbs on your nipples as you whimper in pleasure, pinching and massaging them.

“Wicked thing aren’t you?” he continues, murmuring it into your skin, his mouth against your ear as he squeezes your breasts. “Blessing me with the prettiest, divine pussy I’ve ever seen, better than any woman, whore, or lady I’ve aquainted,” He growls, “My dame, how have you walked around this kingdom without me buried into you at all times?” He says, like you’ve committed the greatest crime. His words going straight to your core, dripping, as you clench around nothing, needing more.

“I apologize sir,” you breathe, need evident in your voice. Biting down on your lip, fluttering your eyes as he kneads your breasts, making you squirm under his hands. You look like a sight, the way Soonyoung reacts as his angry expression turns focused. Cheeks flushed, your pretty lashes against your cheeks as tears of pleasure dance at the corners of your eyes. Ridiculous, he thinks, that you’ve been here all the time. And it’s taken him this long to take you.

He huffs, “No need. We remedy it now,” He says firmly, his leader like voice coming out. He lets go of your breasts reluctantly, unbuttoning his trousers, his dick springing against his chest. Angry like he is, pink and pretty, slick with pre cum. The sight of him already making your legs weak, just imagining him inside you.

He steps back, sitting on the wooden bench, pushing my haphazardly thrown armor out the way for space. A hand to his dick, pumping it slowly a few times as his eyebrows furrow, a moan coming out of his lips. You take a deep breath, stepping up to him.

“Sir, let me,” You say, straddling on top of him, the closeness between his cock and your pussy making you throb with need. You let out a sigh as you wrap your rough hands around Soonyoung’s dick, stroking him slowly, exploratory. Making him gasp and take a sharp inhale.

“Fuck,” He groans, his noises music to your ears. Squeezing slightly, as you press your thumb over the slit of his dick, slick with his precum. The action making him moan out, “Enough, no more teasing,” He breathes, putting his hands over yours. “Let me give you what you deserve, Dame y/n.” He says, making eye contact with you, his eyes soft but still determined with arousal and anticipation.

He holds you up, until you’re hovering over him, kissing you momentarily just from missing the way your lips tasted a moment ago. He adjusts, as you both moan out as the tip of his cock swipes against your folds.

You start sinking down, gasping, your breath caught in your throat. Inch by inch, Soonyoung’s cock stretching you out deliciously, the pain and pleasure knocking the wind out of you as he watches intently at the filthy sight of his cock disappearing into you, until he bottoms out. You breathe, adjusting, holding Soonyoung’s shoulders tightly. Fuck, was it beautiful. If you could, you would write epics of how he felt in you, have the bards at those stupid pubs sing about how magical he felt, how perfect he was.

And it starts, as he starts rolling his hips, grabbing your ass with his hands tightly, roughly groping them as he starts a slow but deep pace. “Heavenly,” He breathes, his eyes furrowed in pleasure. “I’d win millions of battles just to have this pussy again.” He moans, as you squeeze around him so well. “Name it, kingdom, country, anything,” He rambles, drunk on the feeling of your pussy, how you drip and suck him in. The way your tits bounce in his face, how your hair falls so effortlessly around you. Especially the fact that no one would know how beautiful you were like this, taking him in so well like it was your knightly duty.

The praises only fuel you, as you wrap your arms tighter around Soonyoung’s neck, rolling your hips to meet his. Bottom lip under your teeth as you bounce on top of him, the knot in your chest building up again, as you chase that high eagerly.

Sweat, the painful pleasure of both of you clawing each other, the lack of caution as you both go at it roughly. One of your breasts trapped in his mouth as he sucks harshly, his hips snapping up with force that shakes the measly wooden bench under you both. You match him, the way your core burns at how hard and fast you roll your hips, fingers clawing deep into his back muscles. A chorus of moans and heavy breathing between you both, as it’s now just a matter of reaching the top of ecstacy.

“Come,” He grits, letting your tit go with a pop of his mouth, as he kisses up your neck, licking the sweet sweat of your skin. “You deserve it, my dame. Reward me with your release.” He commands, holding your waist down with both arms, fastening his pace as he holds you up like a ragdoll.

And with that you do, gasping as you choke out a loud cry, eyes shut as you shake and shudder, eyesight spotty as every part of your lower half spasms with utmost pleasure. Squeezing Soonyoung’s shoulders hard, making him wince at your strength as you ride your orgasm to completion, panting heavily.

Soonyoung pulls you off despite his body screaming him not to, as he clumsily grabs his dick, stroking it hard until spurts of his release come out, as he moans, tapping his dick against your stomach as he recovers, coating your chest with his warm cum.

Its quiet for a moment, as you pant, catchin your breath, sitting on top of him as he holds you close, breathing in your sweat as he rests his chin in the nook of your neck. His touches light, once more, as he rubs circles into your back. “God,” He sighs, continuing a string of curses, before lifting his head to look into your eyes. Despite the exertion, his eyes are wide, a film of sweat over his handsome face. A look of a man who discovered excalibur on his face as he looks at you.

For once, you look relaxed. Your shoulders down, eyebrows no longer furrowed, the normal guarded look on your face gone. For once you look like a woman, one thats utterly you, strong and beautiful. Looking how you should, satisfied and cared for. Only making Soonyoung’s resolve tighten, thoughts filling his brain of taking care of you, making sure you feel the appreciation you deserve.

“My dame,” He starts quietly, “I never want you to have an outburst like that again,” He starts, referring to your angry insults thrown at the other royal knights, “If you need an outlet, let me be one for you.” He promises, gripping your hands tightly in his. “Let me fight your battles strongly beside you,” He says, kissing you briefly, “Never be alone. I am here.”

You nod, feeling an undescribable feeling in your chest rise. Odd, how your hands are with one of the most respected knights in the kingdom, the same man you despised and felt envy for. Odd that you let this same man ravish you and make you remember that there was more to life than just your royal duties. And very odd, that now you have the Kingdom’s Tiger by your side.

[starry-bi-sky]

tick tock

Highkey dedicating this to @watercolour-carnations bc they sent me an ask about my 'danny is thomas wayne' au and singlehandedly revitalized my brainrot for it. Apparently the quickest way to a starry's heart is through their ask box

Now posted on ao3 under the name 'dniwer eht kcolc'!

In hindsight, hosting a science exhibit was probably not the best idea that Bruce has ever. This wasn't even one of Bruce's galas and, yet he was still attending because it gave him the opportunity to scope out any potential rogues (or henchmen).

Damian was by his side, and Tim was on the other side of the room, inspecting some of the other inventions under the prospect of gaining new hires for R&D at WE. Something that was not entirely false. Bruce could always use new, bright minds working to make Gotham a better place.

He was, particularly, eyeing up one moderately-sized invention that a woman with cutting blue eyes and stark white hair had covered with a white sheet. An interesting choice when everyone else had already revealed their own inventions. Drifting closer with Damian, he smiles charmingly at the scientist when they lock eyes.

"And what is this interesting contraption?" He asks, looking over the sheet as if it was the invention itself and not what was underneath.

The woman curled purple-painted fingers around the sheet, yanking it down to reveal a machine that looks like a mix of a jukebox and a grandfather clock. A long wire was attached to it, and a strange, blinking, circlet-like device connected on the other end.

Bruce's brows rose considerably, and he could sense Damian's eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"This is my Holographic Memory Machine -- the name is still a work in progress -- it's a memory machine meant to allow anyone to relive their memories right in front of them, even the ones they don't remember." The woman says with a smile, her name card reads 'Dr. Casey W. Kairos'. He's never heard of her before. An out-of-townie, perhaps?

"Interesting." Bruce's hands fold behind his back and he looks down at his disinterested son, and then back up to Dr. Kairos. It sounded harmless, but even a pencil could be harmless until enough force was put into it. "How does that work?"

Dr. Kairos walks over and holds up the strange circlet device, "The user wears this headband. It scans their brainwaves and then plays a memory of their choice right in front of them like a hologram, including any voices that came with it." She explains, showing it off to Bruce and Damian. "Would either of you like to try it? The HMM has been tested and it is completely safe."

Damian scoffs and turns to him, "This is a waste of time, father," He says, "let's move on."

"Oh, don't be like that, Dames." Bruce smiles genially, placing a hand on his son's shoulder and squeezing it. It reminds him of when his father used to do the exact same thing, and he turns to Dr. Kairos. "I can try it, Doctor."

Kairos smiles widely, looking incredibly pleased. "Come stand here then, Mr. Wayne. I can get the HMM up and working." She gestures to a spot on the floor within the circlet's range, and Bruce goes and does as told.

"Standing around and looking pretty is my specialty, Doctor Kairos." He jokes as she gets the device situated on his head. It sits on his forehead snugly, and tucks behind his ears. Kairos snorts and turns to get the machine activated.

"Father." Damian says, indignant and scowling. His arms crossed over his chest petulantly. Bruce chuckles at him.

"The Doctor said it was perfectly safe, Damian." He admonishes lightly, wagging a finger at him. "I trust the good lady to know what she's doing." Not really, but he'd rather test it out on himself if it was unsafe.

Thirty seconds passed with Dr. Kairos working on flicking on the HMM, and when it came alive it came with a low hum and a distinct, ticking like noise. "Ah, there we go." She hums, stepping away. "It's up and working, Mister Wayne. Just think of a memory and let the HMM do the rest."

"Thank you, Doctor." Bruce nods at her, and then tries to think of what to let the machine show. Nothing that would give away his identity as Batman, of course not. Nothing incriminating.

He looks to Damian, who still looked very unhappy with him. Perhaps a memory of one of his boys in the manor? Or a Brucie Wayne moment that everyone's seen. His brows furrow in thought. One of his speeches?

...No. No, he has an idea.

Immediately, the HMM begins to hum louder, the ticking drowned out by the sound of its fans kicking in. It starts drawing the attention of the other ongoers, and Damian steps to Bruce's side as a crowd begins to form.

"What is that thing?"

"What's it doing?"

"Is it safe?"

Hushed whispers scatter around them as more and more people abandon the other stalls in favor of seeing whatever spectacle was happening. Tim appears as well, pushing his way through the crowd and situating himself by Damian and Bruce.

"What's going on?" He whispers with a frown, looking between Bruce and Damian.

Damian hmphs, "Father is trying out this woman's 'Memory Machine'."

Just when Bruce is starting to think the machine doesn't work, he hears a sound that silences the spectators. A piano note. A singular note, followed by another, and another. Right before Bruce's eyes, the air shimmers, and a projection of his father sitting at the grand piano appears before him.

His breath hitches in his throat. He remembers this. He remembers this piece. It was father's favorite.

Damian and Tim are stiff at his side, and Bruce hears the crowd gasp.

There, sitting on the floor at the bench, is Bruce himself at six years old. He's resting his arms on it, and leaning his head on his arms with a look of pure adoration -- did he really look like that? -- aimed at his father.

There's no talking between them, a content silence as Thomas Wayne fills the air with his piano playing. That is-- until he stops midway through the piece, fingers stopping the keys with a abrupt jerk.

Thomas laughs, quiet and full of love, and little Bruce picks his head up with an affronted frown. "Why'd you stop? I like listening to you play."

"I know you do." Thomas says, his voice is as soothing as Bruce remembers it to be. The memory twists to look at little Bruce with a blinding smile, as if he was looking at his whole world. It's the first time in decades that Bruce has seen his father smiling like-- like that. His eyes involuntarily sting.

"But how can you hear so well when you're all the way down there?" Thomas shifts, and pats an open space on the bench. "Come sit up here, Boo. I can teach you to play."

(Thomas Wayne was always fond of pet names, he had plenty of them for Bruce, and he used them at every opportunity.)

Little Bruce perks up, "Really?" He grins, and then clambers into the bench. His father's arms wrap around him.

The voices fade as the memory slowly begins to collapse, and Bruce feels a spike of panic in his heart before the memory is replaced by another one.

He's younger, probably four years old, being sprayed down by a hose by his father. Little Bruce is squealing with laughter, trying to swat the water away like a fly, and his clothes are drenched.

Thomas is laughing as well, wearing a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He looks like he just came home from a business meeting. Bruce always thought he was old when he was little. But at four years old, Thomas Wayne is only a little over twenty. Barely an adult. He is twenty-four when he dies. He was so young.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" Little Bruce squeals, trying to run out of the line of fire, but Thomas Wayne has a sharp eye, and the hose in his hands follow Bruce no matter where he goes.

Until finally Thomas drops the hose and runs towards Bruce, who is trying to recover from being sprayed down with ice cold water. Thomas reaches him before he has time to move, and scoops him up in his arms.

He is laughing loudly and boisterously, spinning them both around as Bruce clings to him for dear life, laughing with him. The memory fades away, and Bruce feels like there are hands around his throat trying to choke him.

A new one shows up, one he doesn't remember at all. His father is younger than before, a teenager, and he's holding a tiny bundle in his arms. He looks like he's on the verge of tears, hunched over it like a shield.

Someone, a girl with gothic attire, peers over his shoulder. "Gosh, Tom, a baby? That's a lot of responsibility." She says, dark-lipstick lips painted downwards in a frown. "And right after you've disowned your parents too?"

Another boy looks around Thomas with a similar frown and an uncertain look, "Yeah man, I'm with Sam on this one -- for once. You don't even have anywhere to live."

Thomas doesn't look like he's even paying attention, utterly smitten with the baby -- its himself, Bruce realizes -- he's cradling. "Look at him though, guys," he breathes, "he's so tiny. Have you seen his little watercolor eyes?"

(Watercolor eyes. Bruce had long since forgotten about that nickname his father gave him. hearing him say it is like a punch to his stomach.)

"You named him Bruce?"

Bruce huffs to himself, an involuntary smile twitching at his mouth as the memory dips again and cycles through another memory he recognizes.

The memories it shows are sporadic, with no chronological order to them other than each and every one is a happy one.

Bruce playing piano with his father.

Bruce stargazing with his father.

Bruce being carried on his father's shoulders.

Bruce getting ready for a gala with his father.

Bruce in the kitchen helping his dad make breakfast (there's pancake flour smeared on his cheek).

Bruce making a snowman with his father.

An apology between Bruce and his father in the form of a piano duet.

There are even a few memories he doesn't remember. Some of them are when he's old enough to, but many are when he's a baby. Some are before his father was adopted by the Waynes, when the only thing on their backs was a raggedy backpack and an oversized sweatshirt, and Bruce's baby blanket. And some are after, where he's sitting in an antique rocking chair bottle feeding Bruce with a look of sheer adoration on his face.

That look never seems to go away, ever, in any of the memories.

Finally, the HMM settles on a final memory, one that makes Bruce's blood run cold and snaps him out of his nostalgic revelry. His father is getting ready in his room, and Bruce comes barreling in with his own suit-and-tie.

"Dad! Dad! Dad!" He chants, running to Thomas, who whirls around and picks him up seamlessly. They spin twice before Thomas settles in front of the mirror, Bruce on his hip as he adjusts his tie with one hand.

"Yes, boo?" Thomas grins, wide-splitting with his shock-blue eyes looking at Bruce in the reflection. He and Bruce have the same eyes. It's shocking how much they look like each other, now that Bruce was older.

Little Bruce makes a dramatic face, a look that only lasts a few seconds before he remembers his excitement. He wiggles in Thomas' arms, "You gotta hurry up! Or we'll be late to the movie!"

Bruce's fingers dig into his palm, and he can vaguely feel his sons' looking at him. There's a feeling of impending doom square in the center of his lungs, and he forces himself to look on.

Thomas laughs, and nuzzles Bruce's cheek. "The movie isn't going anywhere, chum, I promise." He says, before setting him down. Little Bruce pouts, his lower lip sticking out. "I know how much you've been looking forward to this."

"Can you help me with my tie then?" Bruce asks, and looks at his own, sloppily done tie around his neck. "I can never get it right."

And, of course, Thomas Wayne kneels down to redo it. He always did everything Bruce asked or wanted. He measures it, loops it, and then knots the tie perfectly.

"There." He says, and smoothes out Bruce's little jacket, smiling in adoration. "Now go play, I'll call you when it's time to go."

And Bruce does just that, running out of the room with a yell of, "You better promise!"

"I promise!" Thomas yells back, laughing at his son as he turns back to the mirror.

The memory shimmers, and changes to as they're leaving. And then and there does Bruce call it quits. His eyes are glistening, his tears nearly blinding him with the swelling, overwhelming grief in his heart. He looks away, and tries to find Doctor Kairos.

(He doesn't see her switch something on the side of the machine. There is no noticeable difference in the machine, but on the inside a time rune starts to glow.)

"I think I'm done here, Doctor." He says once he can find his voice without it shaking. He can't hide the full crack and tremble laying beneath it, but at least he doesn't cry. He's almost forgotten that he had a silent audience.

Doctor Kairos nods and steps forward, reaching for the headband. "The memories should cut off once I take this off, Mister Wayne." She says, and fiddles with it for a moment. Behind her, the memory of himself and his father are walking outside. "I hope that wasn't too much for you?"

(The ticking of the machine grows louder, and the memory glitches.)

"No, no." Bruce assures with a smile that wasn't all Brucie Wayne yet. He looks down when he feels Damian's hand curl around his, and his son leans into his side. His smile softens, and he presses Damian closer. His other arm finds itself over Tim's shoulders as well, pressing him to his side.

"It was fine. Actually, it was an honor to be the first to try out your memory machine. I'm sure it will help many people." He tells her. She smiles slyly, and slides the headband off his head.

"That's what I'm hoping for, Mister Wayne." Doctor Kairos places the headband onto the table. The memory hasn't disappeared, Bruce notes with a furrow of his brows. And the audio has muffled slightly.

"I thought you said that the memory would cut off when the headband was off?" He asks. Kairos looks at him, and then behind her at the memory. She frowns.

"It should have--"

Little Bruce suddenly frowns, and looks away from Thomas. "Do you hear that?"

Bruce frowns. "I don't remember this." That wasn't in his memory. They just went straight to Monarch Theater without any issue.

Thomas looks down at his son, "What noise?" He asks, squeezing Bruce's hand. His head cranes, as if trying to hear whatever noise Bruce was hearing.

"That ticking sound." Bruce's frown deepens, "It sounds like your clock, dad."

Thomas' immediately frowns, looking so strikingly like Bruce that he marvels for a moment. He looks around as well. "...You're right. I hear it too." He steps a little closer to Bruce, his hand tightening around his.

A sense of unease fills Bruce's lungs. "What's going on?" He asks, taking a step away from the memory. This was different. This isn't his memory.

"I'm not sure." Doctor Kairos says, and her unsurety sounds so practiced and calm that Bruce's suspicion levels to her immediately. His boys look at her too with the same unease. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

She strides around the memory to the side of the machine just as a gold symbol appears on the ground. It looks like a giant roman clock, and a loud, clunky ticking fills the room.

The memories see it too, and Bruce's heart drops to his feet as he and the rest of the crowd back away from it. "Dad, what is that?!" Little Bruce exclaims, a look of fear morphing across his face as he suddenly clings to his dad's leg.

Thomas looks pale, looking at his feet and gripping little Bruce to him protectively. "I don't-- I don't know, Bruce."

(A memory that Bruce doesn’t have is his father arguing with a man named Clockwork. He does not see the man named Clockwork all but beg Thomas not to go out tonight.)

("Does something happen to Bruce?" His father asks the ghost.)

("No," the man says, "but--")

("But nothing, Clockwork." Thomas, once Danny, says firmly. "My son has been looking forward to this all week. I'm not going to crush his hopes by changing my mind last minute.")

("Thomas, please.")

("Look, if something happens tonight, I will handle it, okay?" Thomas assures him, a hand atop Clockwork's shoulder with a small smile. "I promise.")

(And then he leaves, Clockwork defeated in his wake.)

(Clockwork has seen this boy grow up from the shadows, and now he can do nothing to stop his fate like he once did before.)

The strange, clock-like circle, something intrinsically magic, begins to glow. The minute and hour hands tick faster and faster. Little Bruce holds onto his father like a lifeline, and Thomas Wayne crouches down to hold his son tighter, protectively.

Bruce Wayne turns away just as the light grows blinding, tucking Tim and Damian into his chest like a human shield. There is yelling and screams as the crowd tries to stampede away from it.

Bruce has no idea what this light will do, but he'd rather die than let his sons get hurt.

The light burns his eyelids even when he isn't facing it. And when it dies without even a burn across his back, Bruce slowly unfurls. His hands stay on his sons' shoulders, keeping them close to him, and he peers over his shoulder.

There on his knees, is Thomas Wayne, curled protectively around eight year old Bruce Wayne, much like Bruce had been. Bruce holds his breath, and his sons slowly unfurl themselves as well and peer around him.

Thomas Wayne is frozen in place for one second, two seconds, three. And then he begins to move. First, the tension drains out of his shoulders, and his head jerks, as if surprised that nothing has happened.

He looks up, his eyes open, and he and Bruce make eye contact. Bruce cannot breathe, and he cannot believe the sight before him. It's just the memory machine breaking. (Doctor C.W Kairos is nowhere to be found.)

And then recognition flickers in his father's face as his panting slows and quiets. His head tilts to the side like a fawn's, a familiar wrinkle appearing before his brows.

"Bruce?"

[kirbybecomesastarwarrior]

Why doesn't Marx want Kirby to forgive him, is it just the guilt thing?

Long story short, this is a combination of "the fear of getting hurt/rejected" & "shame and guilt," which results in self-sabotaging, but the main reason is...

HAMELIN REALLY MESSED UP MARX!

So, like Kirby with Cappytown... Marx was Hamelin's hero, but they betrayed him and thus turned to the dark side.

This all ties into his initial hatred for Kirby... he's very much angry at his former self for being so foolishly naive, and Kirby's good nature is too reminiscent of his former self.

That also makes it the main reason he could never truly hate Kirby... a younger self that he can't help but connect with. Leading to his "fake friend act" to accidentally grow to care for him and actually want him as a friend.

However, Marx knows he deceives Kirby the same way the people of Hamelin did to him... "pretending they cared for him." Using the very same methods, the townsfolk did to him... ("became what he hated")

This is why Marx doesn't have the heart to forgive himself... even though Kirby was always ready to forgive him and welcome him back with open arms. Because he knows he can never forgive the people of Hamelin... Why should Kirby? And, of course, he does!

The restoration of a friendship between Marx & Kirby happens~, But unlike the people of Hamelin, Kirby has this unconditional love for Marx and wants more than anything to have him back in his life.

I'd say these events happened after Planet Robboot... Marx finally makes his return and "saves Kirby?!" (I'm not gonna reveal from what because of spoilers)

With my interpretation of Marx, I wanted to take him into a sympathetic route (to make him stand out from the others). He still has the sass and mischievous charm, but I wanted to give him a proper reason why he is the way he is. It's a more heartfelt version of Marx that Kirby would want to be friends with and him in turn.

Marx represents "self-worth"; if people don't appreciate or treat you the way you deserve, then they don't deserve you. (Minus the piping all the Dark Matter back into the town as revenge...) KNOW YOUR WORTH AS A PERSON PEOPLE!

And he stands as one of the main reasons why Kirby ultimately chooses to become a star warrior. Moved out of the Popstar to travel and pursue his aspirations & dreams.

Please keep reading for spoilers & quick bonus comic~

So Arthur pretty much reveals Marx's backstory to the rest of the Kirby gang... and needless to say, they're speechless!

He still doesn't want to be forgiven, so he stays with Magolor (which I cover here with Magolor's lore), but yeah, of course, Marx opened up to Mags about Hamelin. And that's why Mags is there, while Kirby & Marx are back in his place telling his story to Kirby. (Kirby saw it because of "empathic touch" but didn't know the exact details of it..)

And Dragato, yeah, he was already on his redemption arc (Falspar's already went through his with Fluff, so he's there for moral support, plus it's the reason why Arthur partnered up together).... he already knew he messed up. But now, hearing the full story that he was, not only did he fall for the people of Hamelin's lies, but... MARX WAS THEIR HERO. (I know kinda of shoehorned the crew for the sake of missing the gang, I just missed them I had to...)

There's actually a small bit of tragedy... while the adults sold Marx out, the children who really loved him would've vouched for him... it'll tie back into his character later.

And I know it seems like I'm painting Dragato in such a bad light, but it's part of his character development. And for those of you who don't know... HIS MENTOR WAS DAME MORGAN (LE FAYE)! So yeah, high standards, little affection, never impressed~

Which is why I still need to establish her a bit more! More Morgan coming up soon

I'm trying to get to the old asks I wasn't able to answer before (since I was still developing the lore...) And I just need a little break from the tournament plus, I've been working on some Kirfluff stuff for Oct.: Kirfluff week!

Also, little funny side notes and gags' "Hero to Zero... Hercules" reference and Mag's little side comment. Based on the meme, "you ruined a perfectly good child..."

So, hope you guys enjoyed it!

[redflagshipwriter]

Batmom Cass preview post for Colin!!

This is 600 words as a thank-you for starting my fund to replace my laptop! I am so so appreciative. There's actually... no Cass in this particular section, but I thought it was probably best to share the next scene. Chapter 8: post reveal (about ten minutes after heaving his guts on very expensive carpet)

Danny would prefer to strike that unfortunate incident from the record and his memory. As soon as he figured out how to cause selective brain damage, it was all over for the mortifying ordeal of being perceived in weakness. He swung his legs miserably over the bathroom counter’s edge and pretended very hard that he was alone in Amity Park where no one noticed or cared if he threw up. 

He was still in the room where Cass had hustled him to clean off his face and see if there would be an encore. He’d had to make a tactical retreat away from the toilet to higher ground when big fussy bats flapped in after him. Presumably they’d learnt that he threw up when Cass went to get whatever supplies one needed to clean partially digested yogurt off antique carpet. Ancestral carpet. Probably made of some nutty rich person material like, uh, hair from the manes of prize-winning horses.

Somehow, Danny cringed even harder. He needed brain damage immediately, please.

“And you’re certain that you don’t need to visit a medical facility?” 

Batman brooded in the literal way that a chicken brooded. Danny tightened his grip on the counter just that little bit more so that no one could drag him into a nest and sit on him. “Wouldn’t do any good,” he said shortly. It came out a little too mean. He tried to correct his voice to be nicer. “Thanks. Tho.” Danny cleared his throat.

“Tt.” Damian expelled air against his front teeth and glowered at his father. “He looks terrible. You cannot believe this.”

Wait, what? Danny blinked down at Uncle Damian, betrayed. “I look terrible?” he echoed. What the hell? Criticism, from Dames?

Bruce got a pinched look. “Danny, honey, you have been looking a little…” He trailed off. “Unwell.”

‘That would be the lack of ectoplasm,’ Danny thought snidely. He kept his mouth firmly shut and turned away. Unfortunately, he caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror and winced at it. He did look pretty wan and thin. It was hard to put a finger on what was off about his appearance, but it was sort of… deathly.

He was putting on weight again thanks to Alfred and Damian’s monitoring of his diet, but it was just a fact that he wasn’t really suited to this environment. Too human to survive in the big Green yonder, too undead to get by on bread and roast beef alone.

‘...How does Jason do it? An aura like that is not sustained by creme anglaise and goulash. He has to have access to ecto somewhere.’ 

Danny really should have wondered that before. Jason had to be like, the most liminal human being around who wasn’t a halfa. He definitely needed ecto. Where was he getting it? Danny hadn’t really consciously thought about it, but… He felt himself tinge a little green again.

‘Was I feeding off of his ambient ectoplasm when he was here yesterday?’

His mouth filled his saliva that still tasted both sour and like toothpaste. Danny swallowed it with effort. He did not think of how good ecto tasted after you’d been denied and drained. He did not think about the sense memory of how living ecto would indent and then give with a juicy pop around his teeth, splash the inside of his mouth-

Danny buried his face in his hands and tried not to look like he was going to throw up again. Because he was not going to do that. He was not going to eat Jason and he was not going to throw up.

[suppose-i-was-worm]

I Put A Spell On You

Fake Dating (Part 1)

**I know, it's not the one that I started writing and was really funny, I'm having a lot of trouble with that one. Enjoy this one instead!**

“I need your help.”

Damian frowned, stashing away the knife he’d hidden beneath his pillow. Danny was crouched on the sill of the window he’d come in through, looking at him with wide blue eyes.

“Tt. What do you need? It is well past midnight.”

“I need you to fake date me.”

“What?”

Danny flinched, and Damian realized how sharp his question had been.

“My apologies. Please explain to me what is going on so that I can best assist you.”

Coming fully into the room, Danny started to explain.

“So, you know my parents and holidays, right? They- they’ve started hounding me about bringing home a significant other since Jazz got married.”

Damian nodded- he was familiar with Danny’s parents’ personality, even having never met them.

“Anyways, for Thanksgiving, they’re threatening to invite Paulina over and make me sit next to her. Paulina, Dames! I wouldn’t survive. So I told them I had a boyfriend who lived here in Gotham, and now they’re insisting on coming here to visit. If they find out I lied, I’ll be dead! My grades are too good for an early death.”

“So you came to me.”

“You’re the only person I know well enough to pull this off, Damian.”

Damian pinched the bridge of his nose, a habit picked up from his father.

“And you did not think to tell them about-“

Cutting him off, Danny grabbed Damian’s face and looked directly into his eyes, a serious look on his face.

“Damian, I assure you it would be a fate worse than death if they found out how we met.”

Damian pulled himself away from Danny, glad for the dim light of his bedroom hiding the blush heating up his cheeks. The other man had never been that close to his face, and Damian would probably say that Danny’s eyes were more dangerous for him than the entire League of Assassins.

“Please, Dames? It’s Paulina we’re talking about.”

Closing his eyes, Damian thought things through. Fake dating Danny would be- a blessing and a curse at the same time. A blessing, as it would require him to be close to the other man for extended periods. A curse, because he knew it would end as soon as Danny’s parents left Gotham. For Damian, who had been struck by Danny’s beauty from the first moment he’d seen the other, the brief benefits might just outweigh the pain of them ending. At least he’d have the memory of being close to Danny.

When he opened his eyes, Danny was holding his hands in a mock praying position, looking up at Damian through his lashes.

“Tt. Fine.”

Danny lit up, literally, and then darted forward, planting a kiss on Damian’s cheek.

“You’re the best! They’re coming in to town tomorrow- drop by mine when you can!”

The other man slid back out of the window and flew off before Damian recovered from the kiss enough to protest the short notice.

~~~

The next day found Damian waiting outside Danny’s apartment, flowers in hand. He had done some investigation as to what he ought to bring with him to meet a significant other’s parents, so he was also armed with a bottle of wine and a box of chocolates.

The door opened soon enough after his knock, revealing an older woman he had never seen before. He could see where Danny got his frame, though, as well as his delicate features.

“You must be Damian! Come in! Danny’s elbow deep in the microwave with Jack. I’m Maddie- we’ve heard so much about you!”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

He stepped inside the apartment, handing Maddie the wine and chocolates after she closed the door.

“Oh, you’re a charmer, aren’t you? Danny!”

Danny poked his head out of the kitchen, and Damian almost swooned at the look Danny gave him.

“Hey Dames! Glad you could make it!”

He emerged, wiping what looked like grease off his hands, and took the flowers that Damian handed him.

“For you, Beloved.”

More importantly, he also took the short kiss Damian gave him over the bouquet.

When Damian pulled away, he was delighted to see that Danny was flushed.

“Uh- thank you! They’re beautiful.”

“Oh, you two are so cute! How long have you been dating?”

“Three years.”

“Not long.”

Danny and Damian spoke at the same time, and then Damian smiled smoothly, determined to fix his mistake.

“Perhaps I feel like our time together until now has been too short. Every time I see you, you are as beautiful as the day we met.”

He was rewarded with Danny flushing an even brighter red.

Maddie turned to her son, hands on her hips.

“You’ve been dating this polite young man for so long and hadn’t told us?”

Danny shuffled his feet, looking bashful.

“I didn’t want to scare him away. I really like him, mom.”

A large man came out of the kitchen, laughing a booming laugh.

“We can tell, Danno. It’s not like you haven’t been talking about him for the last few years.”

Damian looked over at Danny, doing his best not to let his expression show. Danny had been talking about him to his parents? For years?

Danny laughed nervously and then herded everyone into the dining room.

If he were being honest, Damian had pulled out all of his acting skills to charm the Drs. Fenton throughout the evening. He did not need acting skills for his interactions with Danny. He kept close to the other, wrapping an arm around his shoulder when he could and dropping light kisses into the shorter man’s hair when the opportunity presented itself.

It was heaven.

Danny walked him out to his car after dinner, and didn’t let go of Damian’s hand the entire way.

“Thank you for tonight, Dames.”

Damian smiled down at the love of his life.

“Of course, Beloved. Anything for my husband.”

With a scoff, Danny let go of Damian’s hand and stepped back.

“Sure, Damian. Drive safe.”

~~~

Danny Fenton knew when he was screwed. His parents had been in Gotham for a week, and Damian was still dropping by to see him on a semi regular basis. He’d even been touchy, and Danny knew that of all people, Damian Wayne wasn’t ever physically affectionate.

It partly gave him hope, and partly made him think this gambit was hopeless. He was aware of Damian’s extra-curriculars, after all, and knew the entire family were good actors.

And yet-

Damian’s parting kiss to him had been long and clinging the evening before his parents left, and he seemed reluctant to leave Danny standing in his own doorway. His hand lingered on Danny’s wrist, and his eyes were the last to tear away.

So, yeah. Danny was fifty percent sure that Damian might possibly reciprocate his feelings, but he didn’t have the courage to ask outright.

He hadn’t had the courage to ask much of Damian since they met, even though he’d been half in love with the other man the moment they laid eyes on each other.

It had been a routine summoning- He’d tasted the blood in his mouth, and while it did not necessarily taste like the blood of an innocent (he always went to bat for the victim in those cases), it piqued his curiosity enough to check things out.

He rose from the summoning circle, crown of fire wreathing his head as he showed off his less human appearance.

The cultists fell away from him, scrambling to bow and prostrate themselves in front of him.

“Oh great Ghost King! Please accept this sacrifice in order to take your rightful place as the lord of all worlds!”

Danny looked down to see a handsome young man in a well fitted suit glaring up at him, blood drying from a wound on his head.

When their eyes met, something changed. The summoning circle flared from Danny’s own ice blue to a sharp neon green, and something lit up under the chair the ‘sacrifice’ was tied to.

With noises of surprise, the cultists started to rise to investigate, but Danny snapped his fingers and caught them all in ice.

Landing, Danny inspected both the runes in the summoning circle and the one beneath the sacrifice, and then floated out of the circle to find the book the cultists had been using to summon him.

When he found it, he had the urge to finish these idiots off himself. They had somehow botched the ritual so much that they had turned it into something of a wedding, and now he was ghost married to a human civilian.

Turning back to said human civilian, he found the other on his feet on the opposite side of the room, holding an improvised weapon.

“Oh cool, you got free. Good news, you’re not going to die.”

The civilian stiffened even more, arching an eyebrow.

“Tt. What is the bad news?”

Danny shrugged.

“Oh, not much. We’re just kinda… Married now? I’ll find a way to dissolve it, or something, and you’re not obligated to have anything to do with me, but… Yeah. Supernaturally married. Is a thing. That we are.”

Civilian’s shoulders slumped, and he stalked out of the warehouse (why was it always warehouses?). Danny followed behind.

“Oh, hey, we’re in Gotham!”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Close to my apartment.”

The man turned to him incredulously.

“The ghost king has an apartment in Gotham?”

Danny let his transformation wash over him.

“Well, Danny Fenton does, and I’m him most of the time.”

“Damian Wayne. A pleasure.”

Damian held out his hand, and Danny shook it carefully.

“Totally! I’m gonna- go. I guess. And look into the ghost married thing.”

“No rush. It might be advantageous to be married to an interdimensional king.”

With a laugh, Danny lifted into the air.

“Sure. I’m cool with being friends, if you want. Maybe we can work together.”

“I can do friends.”

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

Dame Aylin: You ought to have revealed this plot before. What if a hair on darling Isobel's head had been harmed?

I adore every word that comes out of this woman's mouth and her dialogue is ever a goldmine, but this is a particular favourite.

Which, of course, makes the other occasion she uses this phrasing even more heartbreaking.

Dame Aylin: You stood to gain from my undoing. I know your reasons, fetid though they are. But Isobel... ...Isobel deserves to live. Please - do not harm a hair on her blessèd head.

Aylin acts so calm and understanding about being sold into imprisonment and being used as an immortality battery for some bastard again. But she also seems terrified here. She doesn't even threaten you with righteous vengeance a tiny bit, and instead is entirely focused on keeping Isobel safe. She straight up begs you to leave Isobel out of it, in fact her first request is that you don't tell Isobel what happened at all - because of course Isobel will try to go save her. It guts me, especially as it treads into the kind of self-sacrificing that I can't see Isobel being anything but livid over.

(If Isobel isn't alive for the betrayal she will just tell you she pities your lack of honour and give you a classic Aylin promise of how she'll kill you upon your next inevitable meeting.)

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

🧚‍♀️ Anon

The Hunchback of Notra Dame

Just picture Father Pucci or Kars obsessing over Gypsy Darling as he sings Hellfire?

He’s starts to lust after the woman that dares to defy him

Or it’s Diavolo (I would lose my mind if he sang Hellfire)

Risotto is not a hunchback, rather he’s believed to be a demon because of his bizarre appearance (White hair and red eyes with black sclera) and has been locked up all his life in the Cathedral away from society

His only companions are the gargoyles that have the power to talk (His gang)

Hello again 🧚‍♀️ anon! I missed you. Went a little overboard and added Weather. First time writing for Pucci so might be OOC.

Part 6 spoilers bellow

I love the idea of Enrico in this situation. Maybe have Domineco (Weather) in the hunchbacks place.

During an incident their sister is convinced of witchcraft and is killed. Enrico is of course hurt but pushs his bias aside to focus on his work as a preist. Domenico however attempted to get revenge. Lead to believe his brother was killed to Enrico continues his work but a year later a man shows up at the door of the church at night. There he finds his brother who has no memory of his prior identity, now going under the name of Wes

Knowing that his brother would be killed if the perpetrators knew he was still alive Enrico allows him to stay in the church and to never leave, never revealing the truth of their relationship as to not let his brother be consumed by bloodlust again.

One day Wes leaves the church after seeing the celebrations below. He's discovered by those who'd killed his sister and attacked, luckily being saved by a performer who is able to distract the men while their family is able to hide him in one of the side alleys.

After a while the performer checks on Wes. She offers him food and a night at her camp to avoid the men but Enrico finds them and immediately takes him back. For darling was a friend of their sister (and due to her association with darlings community may have led to the accusations of witchcraft, she is unaware the two men she's met are her late friends brothers).

Wes is taken aback such kindness from darling. Disproving all the horrible statements the Enrico made about the people beyond the church. He grows more defiant to his twin and tries to sneak out again and again to meet her again before one night there is a bang at the door. Enrico opens it to see darling begging for entry before guards attempt to take her away.

"Please father, let me inside" she begs as she attempts to free herself from the guards grasp.

"Men let go of her, for anyone is free to redeem themselves in the church" he tells the guards. For no one is to be prosecuted on the grounds of the church.

They let her go and she rushes inside before he closes the door. Despite his resentment towards her for his sister's death he offers her refuge.

"Thank you father, I've been framed for witchcraft and they had intended to burn me at the stake" she explains.

She offers to help around the church where ever she can but is forbidden from the upstairs area where Wes is. Yet they still end up meeting and hide it from Enrico.

Meanwhile Enrico begins to develop feelings for darling. He's torn, he's meant to be a man of God yet his thoughts become clouded by the woman before him.

He's in denial about his feeling until he stumbles upon her and Wes together. His heart aches and his body burns with jealousy at the way she treats his brother.

Love festers into such a poison inside of him. He thinks of such horrible, sinful things. He wants his once beloved brother dead and darling to be subservient to him.

One day he confronts darling with the ultimatum, she marry him or he'll evict her from the church. Darling is quick to argue.

"You have poisoned me... and the man I once knew as my brother. You are the reason my dear sister was killed" he'd seethe.

"Yet I think about you more then I do God himself, you have clouded my mind. Tainted me. If my purpose is not to serve God then it is to have you" he continued.

Darling. Appalled by his scorched words runs back into one of the rooms and locks the door behind her.

"If I do not have an answer by the time the sun rises then I shall have the guards come" he warns. Darling weeps until she hears a knock at the door. At first she tell them to leave but hearing that it is Wes she opens the door.

She explains that Enrico has given her the ultermatim of marry him or get convicted for witchcraft. Wes tells her the way he would leave. During this Wes professes his love to darling and she asks if he will leave with her. He tells he he will deal with Enrico before he leaves and she tells him where she will hide with the rest of her community.

The next morning Enrico goes to where darling slept and searches the church, no signs of her so he informs the guards to find her. He's about to join them in the search before he stops and decides to visit his brother.

Wes plays dumb, who? I didn't know another person was here? Of course Enrico knows and points out that he'd seen them talking. He asks Wes to tell him where she is, when he doesn't receive an answer he grabs a knife and attempts to stab him.

"I have done everything in my power to protect you Dominico, I ggave you another chance after you treaded upon the bloody path of revenge and this is what I get in return!" He shouts as they wrestled for the blade. Eventually Wes is able to escape and flee the church to find darling after Enrico mentions about the guards searching for her.

Little does he know that he's leading the guards right to the hiding spot. Their reunion is quickly foiled by Enrico and the guards who quickly pry them away. Darling is taken to be burnt at the stake and Wes is forced to watch.

Darling has her final chance to "repent" and she refuses. If he cannot have her then no one will. The fire is lit and just as all hope is lost, Wes is able to break free and run to darling to unbind her while fighting off the guards. Then they run into the church. The guards begin an advance but Enrico is quick to stop them, grabbing one of their swords, he must end this himself. Go through with the sick twisted fantasy of killing his own brother for the hand of darling.

"(Y/n), If my foolish brother weren't around to be the one with your heart would I?" he asks as he pursues them.

"I will kill Wes, I shall do whatever it takes" he yells.

Soon enough they're all at the top. Enrico is frantic, he's lost all composure and ultimately Wes is able to outsmart him. Enrico rushes towards him but goes over the balcony with only his brothers grip in his hand saving him.

"Father Pucci, please stop this!" Wes begs but Enrico refuses.

"I'd rather be damned to hell then conceded to you, my... no a snake like you" he hisses before he let's go. Plunging onto the fire bellow.

[tragedybunny]

Fangs and Fairytales - Chapter 4

༺Summary༻

The Netherbrain has fallen and Baldur's Gate has been saved. Excited about their new life together, Astarion and Serafina, a warlock who’s past remains hidden, journey to find a way for him to walk in the sun again. But there is no easy path to happiness and even Sera's own patron blocks their way. Together, they can face it all and find their own happily ever after.

Chapter 3: Astarion has an amorous plan to fix Sera's melancholy, it gets a little delayed by an encounter with a peculiar bard.

༺Pairing༻ Astarion x Serafina (Female Tav/OC)

༺Rating༻ Mature

༺Warnings༻ Light bondage, anal play, vaginal sex

༺Word Count༻ 4114

༺A/N༻

Hello Lovelies!

This is the smutty chapter. Takes a bit to get there, but I promise the second half is steamy.

Many and eternal thanks to @icybluepenguin for betaing and always encouraging me!

Also, if you recognize a certain bard and his ballad in this chapter - he's on loan from my dear friend @snowfolly If you don't recognize him, please check out Endlessly, one of my fave fics.

Read on AO3

All chapters here on Tumblr

The camp was in high spirits tonight and buzzing with activity. They'd turned the courtyard and upper floor into some sort of communal festival, all because some ostensibly famous bard had come to play there in an act of “charity” that Astarion found gratingly self-aggrandizing. 

The cheery mood and sense of community had even led the denizens to give the camp a proper name, erasing its last ties to Shar.

“Selûne’s Embrace.” He couldn't think of it without disdain. He wanted to be done with gods, and couldn't fathom why everyone else still would cling to them, Dame Aylin excepted.

The bard’s distraction served his purpose though, so he couldn't complain too much. The event kept Sera distracted while he made preparations for a very special night. He'd left a note before trancing telling her to go enjoy herself and he'd be along later, there were some things he wanted to do.

He shut the door to their private cave hideaway with a satisfied smile. Everything was perfectly set, including the items he’d snuck off to the night market in the Wide to procure. Now to fetch his beloved. 

Sera had seemed back in high spirits the last couple of days. They'd started making preparations to travel and Astarion had to admit, he felt more hopeful as well. He still wasn't happy about losing the sun, but seeing Sera smile after that terrible night made even the light of day seem less important. They'd leave in a couple more days after dinner with Duke Ravengard.

The night crowds were thicker tonight, swarming to the surface, bringing along a tide of food and drink for the revelry. Astarion weaved through them with dexterity, avoiding any brushes against his skin that would reveal it as too cold, and any lingering looks that would expose anyone to his too red eyes. 

He glanced down at his fingertips– his nails had become much more claw-like without the tadpole and, though not as animalistic as they once had been, they still required much more attention. Thankfully, the glowing eyes and maw full of jagged teeth had not also returned, those would be much harder to hide. He had a theory that being well-fed had something to do with it. An idea he could possibly discuss with Dal at some point, but for now he’d simply be thankful.

Thus far, they’d managed to keep his nature to whispered rumor, and no one really wanted to force the issue and confirm they were sharing quarters with a vampire. Especially since this particular vampire was the partner of the hero of Baldur’s Gate. It would seem Sera was still his great protector.

And that thought didn't have the sting it used to. They were rather good at protecting each other. 

Astarion’s thoughts were interrupted as he exited the stairs onto the ground floor and the notes of a song reached his ears. His jaw tightened and his teeth ground together. “That fucking song…” The Golden Lyre. 

“Dark haired maiden, play it true,” a rather pleasant voice crooned from outside.

Despite the pleasantness of the voice, the lyrics were still like listening to Lae’zel sharpen her weapon for hours on end. Astarion charged outside, determined to find Sera as quickly as possible. 

“The golden lyre, I beg of you, hold my heartstrings, in your hands.” 

It wasn’t a bad song, it simply was the song; every bard knew it and would play it in every godforsaken shithole in the city. The sort of place he used to haunt. He’d heard it so often, he would find himself singing it involuntarily and recoil, cursing himself. 

“Dark haired maiden, my love, my muse.”

Down the stairs, into the courtyard, Astarion spotted the ridiculous creature, furiously plucking away at a violin, dancing about like an ungainly bird, a mane of gray hair flowing wildly around him. And of course, at the end of a table nearest this display, sat Sera, sipping from a wine glass, with a smile on her face. A smile that was a little too fond for his liking, 

“Oh my love, my muse…”

Astarion shouldered his way over to Serafina, coming up behind her to rest his hands on her shoulders in what was definitely not a possessive manner, fingers on the light blue fabric of her dress. “Hello darling.” 

If her smile for the bard seemed fond, for him it was radiant adoration. “There you are. Done with your business for the evening?”

Astarion suppressed a smile, thinking of what awaited her in their cave sanctuary. “Indeed. In fact, part of it was a surprise for you. Shall we away?” he purred at her. 

“You’re such a tease. I’m dying of curiosity now.” 

He gave Sera his hand and helped her from her seat, ready to whisk her away from the scene and the hells-damned song when the music abruptly ended. The crowd started to applause raucously and Astarion attempted to make their exit before another song that would remind him of his lowest days started. Who knew what else was in the bard’s repertoire; The Wilting Rose, Summer’s Sweetest Wine? They all made him shudder. 

He’d gotten maybe two steps when the bard’s melodious voice called out behind him. “Corellon fucking wept… Serafina?”

At his side, Sera froze, eyes going wide with a look of terror he hadn’t seen since Cazador had bound him into the ritual. Astarion felt himself tense as well; from what he understood of the warlock pact, no one in Baldur’s Gate should recognize Sera. They gave one another a look and Astarion released her hand to wrap his fingers around the dagger always at his side. 

“It is you! Don’t you recognize me, it’s Tali?” The tiny elf – moon, if Astarion was any judge – flailed his arms about, jeweled rings catching the fire light and a fine scarlet coat swaying with the effort. 

“H-how? You shouldn’t be able to…” Sera stared at him in wonder. 

“Exactly.” Astarion gripped his dagger tighter. Had her family somehow found her? Was this their agent? 

Through the vaguest of conversations and some deduction on his part, he'd been able to put together that Sera had accepted a warlock pact with Titania, Fey Queen of the Summer Court to escape an awful family. Said family were almost certainly Patriars here in Baldur’s Gate. Sera had tried to disguise that noble bearing she’d been taught since birth, but he'd seen his share of nobles and rabble. There was no way she was anything but the former. And that was all he was allowed to know, lest the magic that hid her shatter. 

Tali’s eyes went wide as he caught sight of Astarion’s hand at his weapon. “Hells, call off your attack vampire!” 

The last word was so loud that the crowd started to look their way. Though there had been talk, they had worked hard to keep Astarion’s nature as secret as possible. That effort looked to be going up in flames. All because of… whoever the hell this Tali was. 

“Why you–” Astarion began to draw the dagger from its sheath, causing Tali to  back away. 

The sound of Sera’s laughter caused them both to freeze. 

“The two of you are ridiculous, you know that.” Sera turned and gave Astarion a quick hug and peck on the cheek. “He’s an old friend.” 

“One that is now extremely worried about you, I might add!” The bard fell into a sulk. 

“Could you give us a minute?” Sera asked, barely waiting for Astarion’s nod before dragging Tali off by his hand. 

Astarion sighed and tried to bury the frustration of the delay to his romantic plans. Slinking off, he disappeared into the shadows, the attention of the crowd having diminished without their entertainment present. 

Crossing his arms, he leaned against the wall, definitely not annoyed with the delay. Agonizing minutes passed as he waited, his fingers tapping against his arm and a fang worrying his bottom lip. Finally, Sera returned without the unwanted company in tow. 

He was already preening for the crowd, readying for another performance. Astarion doubted he could know what had passed between them but at least she didn’t look troubled by it. He held out his arm until she hooked hers through it, giving him a reassuring look, and they started back inside.

“He’s a friend, a friend that seems to have some immunity to Titania’s glamour. It’s fine though,” she answered the question he hadn’t asked.

“Oh so this random bard–”

“Taliesin. Honestly I’m surprised you don’t recognize him, he’s quite famous. He wrote the Golden Lyre.” 

Astarion pretended that did not make his blood boil further. Of course the foppish creature wrote that damned song. “Whatever. He’s allowed around Her Majesty’s spell, but I, the love of your life, am not.” 

Sere halted their progress, turning to shoot him a look. “Astarion, you know that’s not how it works. She can’t just make exceptions.” 

“I know she despises me. And she clearly can make exceptions.” 

Sera sighed and started walking again. “You’re being impossible.” 

Astarion followed, now being pulled along by Sera, despite being a head shorter than him, and slightly built. “Don’t act like it’s not true,” he groused. 

“So you're telling me that all a Fey Queen wanted from you for all this power was a child. How very… cliché.” Astarion was setting up a simple trip wire around their camp. They’d just dealt with a pack of gnolls and didn’t need any more surprises for the night. 

“It's not that simple,” Sera answered from where she stood watch behind him, scanning the horizon for any more danger. “She wants a lineage to serve her, my family line.” 

“And you agreed to that? Was life at home really that bad?” Nothing to compare to his, he was sure. 

The night sky over the Risen Road was turning the brilliant colors of twilight as the first stars appeared.  Astarion had agreed to help with security measures and immediately asked Sera to be his look-out. A chance to spend a little more time with her and “strengthen” their bond. They were on their way to the Githyanki crèche, and perhaps a way to be rid of these worms. He needed to ensure his hold on their warlock leader was as tight as possible. Without the tadpole he might well be entirely dependent on her. 

Oddly, the last couple of nights they hadn’t done much more than chat pleasantly by the fire and share a few kisses. Not for lack of trying on his part. Leading to his desperately attempting to ignore the creeping dread that his protector was losing interest in him, and his mouth was running without much thought. 

Audibly, she inhaled. “If only I could tell you.” 

Astarion felt an awful weight in his stomach, the feeling of knowing he'd screwed up. Only it was disturbingly not like when he'd misstepped in front of Cazador. That was fear of reprisal, of one of his master's many punishments. 

This was… he didn't know exactly. He just didn't like being the cause of any distress to her. “I– no, I should trust you on it. Although I have to say, she'll probably be disappointed if you keep carrying on with a vampire,” he finished with an awkward laugh and was glad she couldn’t see him cringing at himself. 

At least the trip wire was done. No explosions, only noise if something tried to cross into their camp. He stood up, shaking off the clumsy exchange. “There, no gnolls in camp this night.” 

“My hero,” Sera gave him a playful smile and headed back toward the cluster of tents. 

The smile soothed his nerves and he made to follow her when a voice whispered in his ear. 

“Watch how you go, Spawn, I won’t tolerate disappointment in my bargains.” 

That had been the only time he’d heard the voice of Titania, but the threat had remained with him, her distaste for him extremely clear. 

“It doesn't matter. And stop being jealous,” she scolded, and Astarion almost groaned in frustration. 

This night was rapidly spiraling out of his control. 

Letting go of her arm, he pulled her closer to him by her waist. Leaning down to purr into her ear,  “Of course my love, let's not spoil the evening. Not when I have such delicious plans for it.”

He was rewarded with a little shiver and smirked to himself. Oh, how he’d come to know her and what made her body respond. And the love they shared made using his considerable experience something he no longer reviled. For the most part– sometimes the skeletons of the past decided to venture outside the shadowy corner of his mind where he kept them. 

The crowd and the noise faded as he led Sera back toward their quarters. The steady increase of her pulse echoed in his ears, and the scent of her arousal filled the air, more alluring than any perfume. Tonight was safely on its way back to being a success. 

When they reached their room, Astarion swiftly shut the door behind him and locked it. No well-meaning visitors to interrupt them tonight. 

Sera turned to face him, eyes heavy-lidded and pupils wide with desire. “What did you want to show me?” 

“It’s in the cave. But first, take off your clothes.” The words were firm, an order, and he watched her swallow hard. 

For his part, Astarion could give or take control with equal pleasure, but Sera, with the rare exception, desired to relinquish it to another. Which made taking it all the more pleasurable for him. 

“I–” Sera started. 

“Shh, just be a good girl and do as you're told.” 

Her skin flushed a deep pink but she wordlessly moved to obey, already sliding into that space in her mind where thought gave way to feeling and reason to desire; the world ceasing to exist outside the two of them. 

When she was freed from her dress, Astarion– still clothed himself– took her hand, careful to not touch any other part of her, and lead her toward the door to their private refuge. “Go on,” he prompted, letting her enter first. 

He didn’t need to see her expression, the ragged, gasping breath she took told him everything he needed to know. The old Sharran rug had been discarded, and a newer plush one was laid down in its place. Currently, a bedroll had been laid over the top of it for extra comfort. And at each corner of the bedroll, attached to a stake driven into the ground, a leather restraint. Nearby was a small box, open to display an assortment of other toys should the night call for them. 

Astarion wrapped his hands possessively around Sera’s waist and leaned to down to speak in a low, throaty voice. “You see, my love, I think I finally understand your problem from the other night. You simply have too many thoughts inside that pretty little head of yours. So I’m going to fuck every last one of them out of it.” 

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the blindfold that had been waiting there and slipped it over her eyes. As he did, each breath came more rapidly despite her stillness, like a rabbit frozen in the path of a predator. “And you are going to lay there, and not say a word while I do it. Just make all those lovely little sounds of yours for me.” 

Guiding her toward the bedroll, he laid her down on it, the soft light of the moon from the opening above them bathing her in an ethereal glow. Even without her sight, she obeyed him with perfect trust, following his commands without falter. She gave over each of her limbs to be secured into the restraints until her body was spread gloriously open for him. 

Leaving her to ponder what was next, Astarion wordlessly moved away to strip himself; spending longer than necessary as he watched her chest heave with nervous breath and the minute movements she made out of anxious anticipation. He could feel himself already hardening without even touching her yet. 

Kneeling next to her, he began to skim his nails over her skin, the faintest of marks appearing in their wake. “Now, what am I to do with you, my poor overthinking, anxious love.” His touch idly circled her breasts, avoiding her stiffened, rosy nipples 

“Ast–” she gasped as his fingers closed around one of those nipples and pinched.

“Ah, I said no words, only noises. Behave or we'll have to find a way to keep you from talking.” 

Sera didn't say anything more, only panted and whined as he rolled the nipple between his fingers. 

It was actually the perfect place to start. Shifting so that he kneeled between her thighs, he rubbed the head of his cock over her slick folds and felt her try to buck into him. He gave a soft chuckle at her efforts. 

“You're not getting it quite so easily, pet.”

Not that he didn't want her desperately by now, but that would ruin the fun. And more importantly the effort he was making to give her this: a night about her pleasure only. 

He leaned forward, the scent of her - wildflowers and forests - filling his nostrils, intoxicating him. Hands resting on her shoulders, her flesh like satin under his fingers, he stilled her. 

His mouth began to water as he leaned down towards one firm nipple. Instead of latching on to suckle at it, bared fangs pieced the skin above it, withdrawing quickly to create two small streams of blood. 

Sera let out a sharp cry and he was thankful he'd thought ahead to set up here, away from their door.

With her delectable blood flowing enticingly, he wrapped his lips around her nipple and sucked. Intoxicating. 

Eyes fluttering closed, he let the taste and scent possess him.  Lazily his hips rolled, cock sliding over her clit, no relief for either of them as he drank the blood flowing from her breast like mother's milk. All the while she gasped and sighed beneath him. 

He could stay like this for hours, teasing the drips from her, not enough to drain her but enough to make his mind and stomach sing. But there was more to be tasted.

With a final lick over the wounds, he withdrew to a noise of disappointment.

“Oh don't you worry, I'm not done with you yet.” 

He’d let himself relive every wicked idea and lustful fantasy he’d had about her while planning tonight. Only some were fit for tonight's purpose, the rest he would get to in time. They had so much of it now. The fantasy enticing him would definitely serve his goal though. 

Getting up, he retrieved a toy and vial of oil from the box, placing them between her legs on the rug, making as much noise as possible. Sera adorably tried to hide her curiosity in silence but the sound of her blood did not lie. 

Coming to stand next to her head, he dropped to his knees, smirking at the intake of breath as he caught her off-guard. “Mouth open, darling, and trust me.” 

Obediently she opened wide for him, a welcoming, waiting hole. 

Very carefully, he placed his knees at her shoulders, and lowered himself over her, sliding his cock into her warm mouth. Wantonly, she moaned around him and he couldn’t stop his own answering groan. Elbows on either side of her hips he gave an experimental thrust, felt her tongue lapping at him. She was good - so, so good, sucking  from underneath him, pliant and submissive.

His hips moved again and he felt his cock twitch inside her. Not yet, he scolded himself. 

Arms wrapping around her thighs, nails digging into her soft skin just enough, he buried his face in her cunt, sodden in expectation of him. Nothing was as intoxicating as her blood, but the taste of her juices, flowing for him, was as close as one could get. Not even bothering to tease, he lavished his tongue over clit, relishing in the much-muted noises. 

It wasn’t enough though. Two of his fingers slipped into her sex, working her as his tongue continued its ministrations. His own hips picked up a rhythm, carefully fucking her mouth. 

Sera’s breath was coming in desperate gasps, the poor thing was nearing her limit. 

“You can wait a little longer, my pet, can’t you? For me?” 

The sound that answered he took for a yes. 

Sucking on two fingers from his unoccupied hand, he coated them with his saliva, and began to tease the last of her holes gently. She was tight and untried, sowith a delicate touch, he worked his way inside. 

Frantically, she lapped at the cock in her mouth, as though to plead with him for release as he fucked all her holes at once. A noise like a scream erupted from her as she shook against him. He could be merciful, he supposed. 

“Go on then, love, come for me.” To punctuate his words, he took her clit between his teeth and sucked. 

It was only moments later he felt her clench around his fingers, and a soft whimper followed. How he wanted to let go too, to spill his seed down her throat and let her taste him. Instead, he pulled his mouth from her and eyed the toy he’d left waiting. 

“Shall I ravage you properly, pet,” he teased, knowing she still couldn’t answer with words, but the thunderous melody of her heart spoke for her. His favorite sound in the whole world, that organ, beating out the song of her vitality, a real and living love. 

“But I’ve got one more treat for you. Now be patie– hgn!” Sera sucked deeply, tongue flicking over his sensitive head. “Naughty little thing,” he scolded. “I should stop right now.” 

They both knew he wouldn’t make good on that threat but still she ceased the attempt to goad him. 

Taking the vial of oil, he carefully coated the small, metal bulb in it. It was delicate work, he knew from horrible experience, but she’d been curious for some time, and was so eager for his fingers just now. The tip of the toy pressed against her and she tried to roll her hips into it. Once, he never would have bet sweet little Sera could be so wanton and needy. And it was all for him. 

Gently, he pushed it inside her, until she had taken it all. A couple of teasing pumps to keep her desperate, and he rose back to his knees, cock slipping from her mouth. 

He took a moment to admire his handiwork; drool running from her mouth, tears escaping her blindfold, her cunt swollen and dripping. 

Gods, she was beautiful.

Kneeling between her thighs, at long last, he gripped her hips, and drove into her, letting out a sigh of relief. Her warm slick squeezed him tight, eager to take all he could give. The feel of the toy inside her pressing against him added another dimension of pleasure, almost too much. 

He thrust with a desperate cadence, his mind fading into only feeling and wanting, almost the same as when he drank from her. The sounds of her pleasure were muted as though miles away. Hips slapped against skin, fingers dug bruises into her skin. 

Again he felt her, climaxing, thrashing, moaning uninhibited now. His cock twitched, gods, it was too much, and he felt himself let go. 

There was stillness and gradually the sounds of the cave penetrated the haze. Sera lay still, her breathing evening out after the exertion. Leaning down, he kissed her with all softness, his undead heart almost quickening with the raw, unbridled, affection he felt for her. 

“You did so well,” he whispered into her ear, “now let’s get you out of all this and into our bed.”

Under a mound of covers, Astarion held Sera close, as she lay with her head resting upon his chest. Idly, her fingers traced lines across his chest. Finally she made a thoughtful hum that drew him from his thoughts. “Yes, love?”

“I was thinking– if this is your treatment for melancholy– do you believe in preventive medicine?” Sera tittered giddily. 

“Oh my darling,” Astarion purred exaggeratedly, “I can most assuredly give you whatever dosage you require.” 

He tightened his arms around her and pulled her up to kiss her properly. They were so lost in the laughter that followed, Astarion barely noted the ease with which he lifted her, strength he hadn’t had before. 

Edited to add my tag list. Oops.

Tag list: @writingmysanity @snowfolly @sunfire-ancunin @vixstarria

@just-a-refrigerator @ladyofcrowsandcoffee @tallymonster @azu21

@wilteddreamsofbaldursgate @spacebarbarianweird @cilil @bg3obsessedsideblog

@talentedbitch @claryvoyantfray

[igncrxntripley]

double trouble

requested by @lokis-queen01 - Would you be able to write a request for Damien Priest x female reader where she is Dominic’s twin sister but she is in a secret relationship with Damien and she joins judgement day with Dominic but also reveals that she is in a relationship with him

a/n: posting this crazy late but pls enjoy :)

mentions: overall SFW, some description of violence within matches, slight emotional manipulation, some family drama, use of google translate, fem!reader, poc!reader, latinx!reader, mysterio twin sister!reader, damianxreader

translations: mi corazón: my heart, sweetheart; princesa: princess; mi princesa, estoy tan orgulloso: my princess, i’m so proud of you; bienvenido a tu nueva familia: welcome to your new family. 

taglist: @thesithdiaries​ @cassiesgreta​ @roseheartsworld​ @theworldofotps​​ @babybatlover​ @ripleyswhore​ @auburnwrites​ @obl1vionblackhart​ @emogoblin-666​ @hereliespumpkin​ @blxxdshxteyes​ @neptune-lover​ @bunnysmyname​ @i-have-issues-lol​ @ares-athena​ @thatonepansexual2000​ @witcherfromwallachia​ @christinabae​

there was no doubt in the world you loved your dad, but he had put both you and dominik on the back burner when it came to your careers. the three of you used to be unstoppable together - a father and his children winning championships and being some of the best in the industry! what could go wrong?

nothing went wrong, per say. but three people entered your lives and helped you see the light; rhea, damian, and finn. three people who had followed your family relentlessly for weeks, months, even, to convince the mysterio twins to join the judgement day. and the two of you fought tooth and nail against it because you were that committed to your dad. 

dominik was the first to finally be convinced. rhea had a way with words, and it was clear just how enamored he was with her. when you found out, though, you were livid. 

--- ---

“you what?” you said, looking at your twin in shock after he told you what he’d decided. “dominik, you can’t be serious. after everything they’ve done to us?” 

dominik shook his head. “y/n, think about it.” he said, a darkness in his eyes that you hadn’t ever seen before. “they can give us what dad hasn’t. you’ve seen how they work together, support one another to be the best they can possibly be. it’s what we need. we could be unstoppable!” he said, grabbing your upper arms as you looked away from him. “i love you, but i’m doing this with or without you. and i don’t want anything to happen to you.”

a scoff left your lips. “oh, you don’t want anything to happen to me?” you asked, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “as if they haven’t already made our lives a living hell. rhea has been manipulating you and spreading these lies through your head!” 

dom squeezed your arms, needing nothing more than for his twin sister to hear him out. “listen to me, please.” he said softly. “i know you’re upset. i get that. but just...just hear them out.” dominik was practically begging you. you knew he wanted the two of you to do this together, but you just couldn’t get behind it. not yet.

--- ---

just as rhea had worked her charm on dominik, ‘the punisher’ of the judgement day had started to make his own move on you. and just like his counterpart, he had a way with words and a certain smoothness to him that had you eating out of the palm of his hand. you weren’t giving into him that easily though. 

--- ---

sneaking around with damian wasn’t easy. if you weren’t careful, someone was going to see you. so the two of you often met up in his hotel room, you leaving your dad and brother at the guise of seeing one of your friends. you knew you couldn’t do this forever, though. so you had to make a decision about damian’s offer. 

this came to a head only a mere week before clash at the castle; you sat in damian’s lap during one of your top secret trips to his hotel room, your arms around his neck and playing with his hair as he gave your hips gentle squeezes. “i can’t do it, dame.” you whispered, the nickname rolling off of your tongue as you looked down at your lap. 

damian leaned in and pressed his forehead to yours. “why not, mi corazón?” he asked softly. “you’re better off with us. we can take care of you; i can take care of you.” he reminded you, the same speech damian had given you for weeks on end during your secret conversations. “we won’t have to hide anymore. and you know if you don’t say yes then...then we can’t do this anymore.”

his words made your chest hurt. while you wanted nothing more than to be with damian and let everyone know you were his, you couldn’t do it at the risk of hurting others. “my dad, though...”

“baby, i know you love your dad.” damian said with a gentle shake of your head, using his finger to lift your chin so he could look at you. “but you’re so much bigger and better than him. both you and dominik have so much potential, and rey hasn’t even scratched the surface.” he was so gentle with his words, so patient as he watched the gears turn in your head. it made your heart flutter, but at the same time your brain wanted you not to believe a word he was saying. “join us, y/n. not just for me, but for you.”

you had decided that night what you were going to do, but you were going to wait to make it clear what your choice was. it was going to be the first step in paving your own path, without the influence of your father. of course damian was thrilled, but you made him promise to keep quiet for just a little while longer. 

cardiff wasn’t ready for what you had planned. 

--- ---

clash at the castle, september 3rd, 2022.

you stood at ringside, next to your twin brother dominik as you both watched the match in front of you; your dad, rey myserio, teaming up with edge to finally put away the judgement day after months of them tormenting your family. not only had they attacked the three of you, this match was meant to put things to bed, give everyone the piece of mind they needed and hopefully get the judgement day off of your backs.

but no one knew what was coming.

you and dominik had talked about everything backstage, away from your dad and away from anyone who didn’t need to hear it. you had a plan, and you were going to make a statement without the help of rey mysterio. this was your moment, dominik’s moment. and no one was going to take it away from you. 

truth be told, most of the match was a blur; you and dominik kept up your gimmick as the proud kids in the background of rey and edge’s moment up until the very end. but eventually you found yourself stood in the ring, next to your brother, watching rey and one of his great friends celebrating their big moment. 

but then dominik made his move, and you knew your plan was officially in action. 

your twin gave edge a low blow, and didn’t even try to hide the smirk that rose on your face as the hall of famer fell to his knees. the shock on your father’s face only fueled your fire, and as edge sat on his knees you followed it up with a superkick to the chin that had his head spinning. 

rey turned both you and dominik to face him, your own chest heaving with rage and anxiety as dominik caught his breath. as twins, your energy had always radiated off of one another and you always did everything as a team; this was no different, your brother’s hand reaching for yours as his way of letting you know you were in this together. 

“por favor, por favor.” your dad pleaded, his hands in front of him as he looked at his eldest children. “listen to me, both of you. please, leave him alone.” one of rey’s hands reached out to hold dominik;s chest as the other held your cheek, and truth be told that alone almost sobered you up. the look in your dad’s eyes through the white contacts almost convinced you to stop this whole thing and walk away...but you didn’t. 

dominik delivered the harshest clothesline he could manage right to your dad’s chest, and you immediately climbed up to the top turnbuckle at the nearest ringpost. the boos in the audience only fueled the adrenaline rushing through your body as you landed the biggest splash of your career so far onto your dad, and you and dominik stood by to look at exactly what you’d done. 

you could only barely hear the judgement day’s laugh behind you as you left the ring with your big brother, hand in hand as you both came to terms with what you’d done. but you knew this was only the beginning, and come monday night, everyone in the wwe universe was going to find out what the mysterio twins had planned for their futures. 

--- ---

monday night raw, two days after clash at the castle. 

you stood backstage next to your twin brother, watching on the monitor as your dad and edge spoke about what you’d done only two days prior. you stood with damian, distanced from the rest of the judgement day so you could have your own moment with him before sealing the your fate. his arms wrapped around your waist, and yours rested on his shoulders as he gave you one final kiss. 

“you look good in all black, princesa.” he said softly, complimenting the black mini skirt and heeled booties you’d chosen. a gentle smirk teased his lips as the two of your gently swayed your bodies; damian knew this was hard for you, and he was doing whatever he needed to do to calm you before you and dominik confronted your father. “let us handle business, okay? and after tonight, everything will be okay.”

you gave damian one more gentle kiss, nodding your head as his words registered in your brain. “thank you. for everything.” you whispered, smiling up at him before you were interrupted. 

“break it up, lovebirds.” rhea teased softly, her own hand interlocked with that of your twin brother’s. “we’ll see you two shortly.” she and the rest of the judgement day made their way to gorilla, and you followed behind with dominik. 

“you’re ready?” he asked you softly, giving dom a small nod as you locked arms with your brother. 

your free hand adjusted the collar of his button-up shirt, giving him a smile that was practically identical to his own. “as ready as i’ll ever be.” you said quietly, standing by the monitor to watch the segment unfold. 

edge made his final call for you and your twin brother to come out to the ring, but edge and your father were met with the screams of rhea’s music much to their disappointment. you both watched, as rhea tormented your father and the hall of famer about how she’d turned dominik into ‘a real man’, and how you were so much more than ‘rey mysterio’s babygirl’. 

truth be told, the next few moments were a blur. you gave your brother one final look, gently squeezed his arm, and the two of you walked out to meet the judgement day to claim your new spots in the group. 

you couldn’t look at the ring, because you knew seeing your dad would only make this more difficult. but oddly enough, you relished in the booing that resounded through the crowd; it made you feel so...good. so powerful. and you could feel that same energy radiating off of your brother as you two walked in slow strides side by side. you both joined rhea’s side, rhea pulling your twin brother closer as your hands busied themselves with the bracelet around your wrist damian had given you backstage.

“dom, y/n...” rey practically begged. you finally looked up at the ring, seeing his pain through the mask on his face. “snap out of it, guys. both of you still have time, so make amends with edge. make things right.” his eyes went directly to you, and even though it hurt to look at your dad in the moment, you stayed strong. “y/n, babygirl, come on.” he begged. “this isn’t you. my little girl wouldn’t do this.”

you watched as your father got out of the ring, closing the distance between yourself and your brother as you met him on the ramp. rhea followed close behind, but your dad stood in front of his twins to make one final plea. “don’t do this.” he said softly, neither you nor your brother even bothering to look at the man in front of you. “i’m talking to both of you. don’t do this.”

the two of you refused to let him intimidate you into giving in. you were no longer going to allow your father to treat you like small children, but rather you were both going to prove to him that you were better than anything he could have ever amounted to. 

“you can’t even look at me in the eyes? see me face to face?” he asked, his voice filled with shock and anger at what he was witnessing. he was so shocked and angry, that all he could do was walk back up the ramp. you and dominik watched, your faces straight and unwavering while rhea had the audacity to laugh at him. the old y/n would have been fuming at someone laughing at her father...but you let that version of you die in cardiff only two days ago. 

the next few moments were a blur; damian and finn had unleashed their attack on edge in the ring, your dad came back out to make one final plea, and he then became the target of his own attack from rhea. but what awoke you from this odd daydream, was the feeling of cold steel being placed into your hand. 

you gave rhea a small nod, climbing up the stairs to the ring to stand side by side with damian. he gave you a smirk, standing to the side to allow you the room to do what you pleased, and with the encouragement of your new-found family you didn’t hesitate to hit edge with that chair as hard as you possibly could. it was hard to even explain the rush through your body as the metal connected with edge’s back, but it felt amazing. 

the boys took over from there until your dad got back in the ring, trying to be a hero as he stood over edge’s body to shield him from damian and finn. but by then you’d all moved out onto the ramp again, damian’s hands pulling your body closer to his as your dad watched. 

damian gently grabbed your cheek, the both of you smirking at rey as your boyfriend pulled you into a kiss. this kiss wasn’t just for show, either; t was the same as every other time damian had placed his lips against yours, all those times you two met in secret before or after shows to discuss your future with the judgement day, and now he was using it as a gesture to show where your loyalty now lied. 

while his calloused hands gently led you back up the ring, smoke practically pouring from your father’s ears, you smiled at the feeling of standing arm in arm with your new family. with four people who wanted nothing but the best from you, and who were going to do everything in their power to build you up rather than put you on the back burner like rey had done. 

this was your moment. dominik’s moment. not rey’s. and the whole world was about to find out who the real mysterio twins were. 

once you were backstage, damian lifted your body up into his arms in the biggest hug he could manage. you hid in his neck, breathing in the spice of his cologne and tangling a hand in his ponytail. “mi princesa, estoy tan orgulloso.” he whispered in your ear. “bienvenido a tu nueva familia.”

you pulled back as damian placed you back onto your feet, giving him one more kiss before smiling at the man who single-handedly turned your life around. “i think i like the other side a lot more already.” you told him softly. letting him lead you back to the dressing room with the rest of the group. 

who knew betrayal could be so romantic?

[sarahsartistportfolio]

More self indulgence Genshin impact. I'm going start backing up my Genshin writing on AO3 because I'm really enjoying this lol and want to make more. Please be kind to me, I'm not a "fanfic writer" I'm just sharing this because I find it fun.

Brief synopsis of what this is: Mine/your first meeting with the Fontaine siblings. I just straight up include my name here so if you're also a Sarah you'll get extra enjoyment from this. Lyney suffering from love at first sight lol. A really cute paragraph of Freminet. In my little sagau fantasy this takes place after the game has ended, so just assume Lumine and Aether are reunited and everything major is resolved. OH! And female reader and no smut here, just Lyney being infatuated with you.❤

Sorry I feel like I'm talking too much, I'm new to this🙇‍♀️

love Love LOVE the idea of sagau Lyney...being being like a little nervous/awkward around you God the same could go for Heizou

But love the idea of cool, suave, a bit aloof Lyney stumbling over his words and cheeks dusting pink as soon as he sees you the new goddess of Tayvet. Just love the picture of Lyney getting all shy and nervous around you cause he's so taken aback by your beauty and kindness.

Ok so like picture this. You've been the goddess of Teyvat for like weeks now. You've already visited most of your favorites from Mondstadt, Liyue, Sumeru. So you're like "Furina I wanna visit Fontaine next" and she's super excited, starts planing out your entire schedule for your days there. And you say "I wanna see one of Lyney's famous magic shows :)" and she's like "Of course of course right after we see the trial of a double homicide we'll do that."

But like you would think its a bit rude to just show up to his show without introducing yourself first. So you send Lyney and his siblings a letter telling them in week you'll be in Fontaine seeing one of their shows and that you're going arrive early so you can introduce yourself before the show starts.

(I just love the mental image of the three siblings huddled around each other as Lyney reads off the letter whose sender is the goddess herself.)

So um next scene right. Lyney is fidgeting with putting his gloves on, his right hand a little shaky and his eyes obviously lost in thought. "Nervous?" his sister's voice startles him from his deep thoughts. "I haven't seen you this nervous before a show in many years. Its because she's going be in the audience isn't it?" Lynette bluntly points out. Lyney swiftly tries to regain his usual demur as he smoothly pulls the glove on his hand. "Of course not, I'm more concerned about Lady Furina. You know what happened the last time she was at one of our shows." And after Lynette drops the topic Lyney is low key wondering if he should double check his props, least he make a fool of himself in front of you.

As the minutes tic by you arrive early as promised. You insist Furina doesn't follow you backstage to greet the siblings with you, she dramatically sighs and tells you not to take too long.

And as your eyes meet the three siblings(as you insisted Freminet be there too) they immediately take a low bow before you. Your eyes bright and smile beaming at seeing them together for the first time.

"Its an honor to have you in attendance this evening ma dame" Lyney gracefully speaks first.

"There's no need to be so formal with me. Please call me Sarah." The smile on your face never leaving for a second as your eyes quickly bounce between Lyney and Lynette before saying "Wow you two really do look alike."

You don't forget about Freminet. Turning to him and patting his head gently. Causing poor little shy Freminet to lose his voice. "Ah I have a small gift for you Freminet." you tell him as you pull out a small gift box for the boy. "Open it." And as his shaky hands do its revealed to be a small doll automata. "You like it?" you smile back at him. But Freminet's heart is racing too quickly for him to process what is happening. He glances down at the doll then back at you and repeats this movement again and again. He can not comprehend how he was just handed a personalized gift from the goddess herself, let alone she just touched his head. His cheeks a bright red, he nods, keeping his gaze to the floor. "I'm glad." you say sweetly as you pat his head once more. Freminet continues to gaze at the doll as if he was just gifted a holy relic.

You greet Lynette with a short hug, arms around her shoulders. She doesn't dare push you away and the faintest pink blush on her cheeks is quite endearing to see. "We have to get together for tea sometime." You tell her. "There's still so many tea flavors in Teyvat I haven't tried yet. Promise me you'll brew me your favorite." And with a shy nod she agrees.

As Lyney sees you embrace his sister he assumes(no hopes) you'll do the same with him. And he's not disappointed when you turn to him and wrap him in a brief hug. His hand hovers close to your waist but decides against touching out of respect. When you pull away, but faces still close he gets a clear image of your eyes and oh wow he can see stars in them. Swirling colors of blues and violets mixing together he finds himself staring a little too long. You giggle. "Photos can't do you justice Lyney you're even more handsome in person." Lyney's eyes sparkle at your unexpected compliment, his heart skipping a beat. "Oh on the contrary mon cheri, I could have never have guessed such a stunning beauty was behind your letter." Lyney smoothly retorts, making you bashfully giggle again. And he wonders how many more times he can pull that reaction from you. Your conversation remains short but full of excitement. Lyney's eyes remain shamelessly transfixed on you.

You give the three one last sweet smile and a little wave goodbye before you turn to return to Furina, who is giving you the saddest puppy eyes saying "That took way too long."

Lynette, with her eyes in a rare soft daze looks at her hands before muttering "...She's nice." Lyney's gaze follows you as you descend the main stage back to an disappointed Furina. His heart racing from just this short interaction with you. If he had any doubts about the divine they were certainty gone by your kind presence. He becomes determined to learn more about you. A slight pink dusts his pale skin and his eyes remain locked on you as he speaks "When Sarah and Furina come backstage after the show we should invite them out to a meal with us."

Lynette's focus is now back on her brother. "What? Why would they do that?"

A mischievous glint shines in Lyney's eyes before he opens up his left palm to reveal a pearl earring.

Ah Lynette shouldn't expect any less of small trickery from her brother. She sighs "That was a bit unnecessary don't you think." And Lyney just laughs proud of himself.

At the end of the show when you and Furina are about to leave the opera house, of course you notice your beloved earring is missing. Furina dramatically gasps "Do you want me to order the staff to turn this whole place upside down for you your Grace?" "No no." You reassure her. "Let's just retrace our steps."

And you're very grateful when Lyney hands the earring back to you claiming to have spotted it on the ground after you walked away. His attention completely on you as soon as you came into view. "Thank you again Lyney, I'll try to see you again later this-"

"Would you like to join us for dinner tonight Sarah?" Lyney confidently asks without missing a beat. "To show our gratitude for attending our show."

Your gaze shifts to Lynette who shows no disagreement to her brother's proposal.

You agree and the four of you(as Furina refuses to leave your side until your head hits the pillow tonight) have a lavish five course meal at one of the most expensive cafes in the city. You try to spread your attention over the three of them equally, even encouraging Lynette to chime in as to not leave her out of the conversation. And as Furina dominates the conversation again you cant help but feel a set of eyes on you. In fact you've been feeling them on you all night. Its Lyney who not so sneakily can't help but be transfixed on you even when you're not the one speaking. Eyes soft and almost coy smile half hidden by him leaning on his hand.

As you mention you plan on spending time with Neuvillette, Lyney is secretly plotting on how to steal you away.

Hmm wonder what happens next...

[journeythroughjourneytothewest]

Hello and Welcome!

This is a blog dedicated to Journey to the West, where anyone interested may join in and follow along in a journey through Wu Cheng’en’s classic. This reading group will be focused on the Anthony C. Yu English translation, which the ever-interesting @journeytothewestresearch has helped provide completely free to download and read as pdfs! The link can be found below:

https://journeytothewestresearch.com/2019/06/07/archive-10-journey-to-the-west-2012-revised-edition/

In full awareness that everyone has their own busy lives and differing schedules, this reading group is working off of a “do-as-you-want” model. Everyone is welcome to submit their analysis, art, reactions, memes, criticisms, additions of context, etc. as we make our way through the journey, but there is no pressure but to have fun with the work!

That said, there is a reading schedule. This reading group has now made it through Volumes 1 and 2 of this classic, and will start up Volume 3 on September 15, 2024. The reading schedule encourages all interested to read one JTTW chapter per week. This group then "meets" every Sunday, which is be the day participants are encouraged to finish that week's chapter and/or submit their creative/analytical pieces about it. Sunday will also be the day where I will give a quick recap of that week's chapter, and will mass reblog anything participants submitted to have that work in the archive. Again, this blog has now made it through Volumes 1 and 2, and will start keeping to the reading schedule for Volume 3 starting September 15, so please have read “Chapter 51: Mind Monkey in Vain Uses a Thousand Tricks; Futile Water and Fire Make It Hard to Smelt Demons,” by then. You’ll find the reading schedule for Volume 3 below, and while not necessary I do encourage everyone to give a look at Yu’s introduction to this text in Volume 1 as well.

I want to end by stressing that it is completely understandable that new members would be concerned about joining after the reading schedule has officially started, and indeed after we have made it through the first volume. As such, I want to confirm that while this group encourages people to send in their submissions on Sunday for the chapter covered that week, you should feel completely free to both submit your stuff on any day of the week that’s best for you, as well as to send in art, memes, analysis, commentary, etc. for every chapter that has already been covered according to the reading schedule. In other words, all I’m going to ask is that your “late” submissions are in line with what happens in Volumes 1 and 2 and/or chapters in Volume 3 that the group has already read as laid out in the reading schedule below. So for example you should feel free to submit the sketches you made about Chapters 47, 48, 49, 50, and 51 on the Monday-Saturday of the week following the Sunday this book club finished Chapter 51, but please save your meme about Chapter 52 for the Sunday that chapter was scheduled to be read. So start, read, and submit as you can!

Thank you and thank you again to anyone who wants to participate anfd to everyone who has already expressed so much enthusiasm and contributed so much to this reading group! I’m very happy and excited to continue this literary pilgrimage with you all.

---

Journey to the West Volume 3 Reading Schedule

September 15-Chapter 51: Mind Monkey in vain uses a thousand tricks; Futile water and fire makes it hard to smelt demons

September 22-Chapter 52: Wukong greatly disturbed the Golden Helmet Cave; Tathagata reveals in secret the true master

September 29-Chapter 53: Imbibing, the Chan Lord conceives a ghostly child; Yellow Dame brings water to end the weird fetus

October 6-Chapter 54: Dharma-nature, going west, reaches the Women State; Mind Monkey makes a plan to flee the fair sex

October 13-Chapter 55: Deviant form makes lustful play for Tripitaka Tang; Upright nature safeguards the untainted self

October 20-Chapter 56: Wild Spirit slays brutish bandits; Wayward Way sets loose Mind Monkey

October 27-Chapter 57: True Pilgrim lays bare his woes at Mount Potalaka; False Monkey King transcribes texts at Water-Curtain Cave

November 3-Chapter 58: Two Minds cause disorder in the great Cosmos; It's hard for one body to realize true Nirvana

November 10-Chapter 59: Tripitaka Tang's path is blocked at Mountain of Flames; Pilgrim Sun baits for the first time the palm-leaf fan

November 17-Chapter 60: Bull Demon King stops fighting to attend a lavish feast; Pilgrim Sun baits for the second time the palm-leaf fan

November 24-Chapter 61: Zhu Eight Rules assists in deafeating the demon king; Pilgrim Sun baits for the third time the palm-leaf fan

December 1-Chapter 62: To wash off filth, to bate the mind, just sweep a pagoda; To bind demons and return to the lord is self-cultivation

December 8-Chapter 63: Two monks, quelling fiends, disturb the dragon palace; The sages, destroying deviates, acquire the treasures

December 15-Chapter 64: At Bramble Ride Wuneng exerted great effort; At Shrine of Sylvan Immortals Tripitaka discusses poetry

December 22-Chapter 65: Fiends set up falsely the Small Thunderclap; The four pilgrims all meet a great ordeal

December 29-Chapter 66: Many gods meet injury; Maitreya binds a fiend

January 5-Chapter 67: Having rescued Tuoluo, Chan nature is secure; Escaping filthiness, the Mind of Dao is pure

January 12-Chapter 68: At Scarlet-Purple Kingdom the Tang Monk speaks of past eras; Pilgrim Sun performs on an arm broken in three places

January 19-Chapter 69: At night the Lord of the Mind refines medicines; At a banquet the king speaks of the perverse fiend

January 26-Chapter 70: The monstrous demon's treasures release smoke, sand, and fire; Wukong by stratagem steals the purple-gold bells

February 2-Chapter 71: By a false name Pilgrim defeats the fiendish wolf; In epiphany Guanyin subdues the monster-king

February 9-Chapter 72: At Cobweb Cave Seven Passions delude the Origin; At Purgation Spring Eight Rules forgets all manners

February 16-Chapter 73: Passions, because of old enmity, beget calamity; Demon-trapped, the Mind Lord with luck breaks the light

February 22-Chapter 74: Long Life reports how vicious the demons are; Pilgrim displays his transformation power

March 2-Chapter 75: Mind Monkey drills through the yin-yang body; Demon lords return to the true great Way