#hes about as smart as other hell knights so in other words‚ not really

[xerith-42]

Hey guyyyys!! I'm baaack with a fresh batch of Laurance angst brought to you by "I really like this random design detail and will try my damnedest to make it make sense." The design detail in question is heterochromia!

Today's programming involves discussion of torture and probably some body horror

So, I'm a big believer in heterochromatic Laurance. It's just real to me. Because honestly both of his very distinct looks are serving cunt in very distinct Laurance Zvahl ways. I have a preference for his original appearance because I have a few bones to pick with Jessica's design decisions, but the pale blue and even blind eyes fit Laurance really well.

In a separate iteration of Laurance I made him lose one of his eyes before the rebirth process, so his heterochromia was unrelated to the whole pseudo-zombie thing. But in MCD... Well... Everything comes back to Shadow Knights.

Little Larry has beautiful emerald green eyes that then get utterly destroyed by the cruelness of the hell he willingly threw himself into to save those he loves. And uhhh, Laurance in canon says he was tortured down there. So let's get into that, shall we? Now, a thing about torture methods is that there's a lot of them, they're really easy to come up with if you have even a slightly sadistic mindset, and they are often focused. Most people who frequently engage in torture chose one field of the body to focus on.

Now let's look at Gene. Obviously for his magical and psychological torture, his focus is on the mind. But what about his physical methods? Obviously Gene gets his kicks out of people in pain, yet I think his real focus is when it gets personal. When someone isn't just in pain, but they are crying, shaking, writhing in agony while staring up at him cursing his bloodline. The eyes are the window into the mind and they say so much that the mouth can't when words fail or are restricted.

Gene focuses on eyes. He remembers them. They haunt him. When he's learning how to break people, he learns how to use their very sense of sight against them. It's already what he knows how to do with his magic and extreme gaslighting tactics. If he has a focus, if he has a piece of information he needs, and he has a target, then he'll focus on the eyes. If he, for example, thinks that Laurance has more information on either realm barriers or Aphmau, who is quickly becoming a point of interest for the Shadow King, then he'll have a reason.

But he can't possibly permanently ruin both of Laurance's eyes. He still needs another for at least semi-proper comprehension of how fucked he is. Gene doesn't need more than one eye. And I like to characterize Gene as a bit of a mad scientist, testing out his magic and Shadow Knight powers in extreme and unhinged ways.

Who knows what he did to Laurance's eye, what happened when he destroyed it and regenerative powers brought it back over and over. What effects traversing between realms had on whatever the fuck Gene did to make it so bad it didn't even resemble his original eye color.

Irene's blessing is able to mitigate the damage on his other eye, the one that was only blinded by realm travel, and bring it almost back to its original state. A pale sage color that has partial but still restricted vision. Laurance is grateful for what little eyesight he has. His other eye, the one Gene targeted... It doesn't come back. After the realm barrier blinded it, there was no undoing the damage anymore. It remains a cloudy pale blue, scars running across the skin around it and through his retinas.

I want to make it clear that Laurance isn't ashamed of this. He doesn't try to hide his eye, but he is cagey to answer questions about it. Most people are smart enough not to question, and he'll open up to the people he cares about (ie Garroth and Aphmau) when he's ready. I have a whole arc related to his blindness that's a whole side blog post I'm working on, but Laurance doesn't forsake the sight he has and he also doesn't lament what he's lost.

"Cad[endza] and Aphmau keep saying they want to bring my sight back. [I] know they mean well but... I can't tell them what happened. I don't think either one of them could take it. Garroth might be able to, but I don't think either of us trust each other enough for that conversation yet. I don't need my eyesight back, and I don't need anyone to fix my left eye. If they knew what that monster did, they would be grateful I have an eye to be blinded.

He doesn't encourage anyone to try and bring it back, and he might even get upset if they're too insistent about it. He's not exactly eager for another magic user to get their hands too close to an already severely damaged eye. He might not say it out loud to someone, but... [blinks my gay little eyes] There's a page in his journal that reads--

Text ID:

[kirua9]

Thoughts on the Arcana prologue

Well I absolutely love the art style, but it need more cut scenes...Also, when we're at the dining room in the Palace.....Why the Habanera is playing ? Why this exact theme? For me it sounds nothing like royal, maybe a but anxious, but I still have 0 ideas Why they chose this music for the palace. It sounds frivolous and bohemian, plus in Carmen it's sung by..fabric workers, no royal themes lol. So when I hear this at Nadia's place I'm like...Eh.?? Maybe for the creators this music sounds kinda arrogant? That's why you chose it?.. or simply liked if, bit for me I have no clue. Weird choice tbh (why not the variations on the dance of the Knights by Prokofiev then?.. at least it's more "royal")

Characters. Asra. Man is always going somewhere we don't know about, we're ruling the shop, we're still his student but he doesn't really care about us and um ahahahah I'd never chose his route for romance, only for the plot. He seems very shady, I still don't know what is he and how the MC and Asra met, and he has some weird relationships with Julian ig?.. He's pretty mysterious but as sneaky as the snake. No bad words abt Faust btw, Faust is fine.

Then we meet Nadia. Oh she looks just like the dream the prettiest girl I've ever seen but I also was so concerned that the countess herself visited our shop like that... Tbh I also have 0 trust to her, just like to Asra, but if Asra is sneaky, this woman is a politician. Lololol. Sorry. And when the story started saying that Lucio was dead...I was like "hm could it be you?.. A smart woman who made a perfect usurpation? No? Okay." But from what I've heard she's considered to be "understanding" and "empathic". Fine

Ensuite, we have Portia. I...liked that she is simple to approach and simple to escape. Idk I'm not interested in her, tbh. Guess I'll do her route after other characters' stories. She's like... she seems a very sidekick function to the MC. Nothing but a companion for Nadia and sometimes (?) Julian. She looks like she's from Greece with that hair. She like fine but boring...Idk

Who was next?.. Muriel?.. I don't know. So gives off massive Beowolf vibes by his appearance. But he's also looks like the hottest from all the gang. I'm intrigued of his chains and ghostly (idk why but he looks like a vision, like a ghost, like also something very mysterious thing) vibe, and judging by his appearance and behavior he's someone's slave maybe?.. Or he's like a gladiator, like a slave fighter. Idk, but I liked his image

Julian. Well, guess I found the reason why people play this game ahagsh. The silly-horny-dramatic-bittersweet guy who's a doctor so he's empathic and kind, buy he had some troubles with Count's case, like... a good criminal? I'm still not sure since now I'm saving up coins to buy the book and to read his route like that. I just like him. Yes for him it's normal to be at our shop at night bc he screams that he's weird yk, it's low-key normal for his status (not Nadia's). Guess I'll read his route first of all.

Lucio. He...looks like Dio. Lol I can't take him seriously, but he looks like he'd be funny to play though his route. Lol what the hell is in his mind, seems like he summoned the devil(aka the goat) or so, he's a total red flag and fcking insane but... I'm interested....

So the order lď play the routes

Julian

Muriel

Lucio

Asra

Nadia

Portia

Maybe change Nadia with Asra idk honestly. But the girls don't look interesting

[rae-raewrites]

Hi! First off I love you're writing your very talented! And second how do you think the riddlers would react to finding out they have a teenage daughter they never knew about (how inherited there smarts and sass)and something happened to the mom so they have nowhere to go so they track him down.

Oh geez it’s dad angst time😂 this is just a bunch of boys dealing with the younger versions of themselves. Also sorry this took so long anon!

The riddlers finding out they have a teenage daughter

Warning:mentions of death

Arkham

It was out of pure annoyance when he actually answers the phone after 13 missed calls from Jonathan crane.

So when Jon casually invites him over saying he needs talk to him he’s even more miffed. And then he finds this kid having tea with the dr, who the hell was she-?

“Ah Edward so nice of you to join us,this wonderful young lady has been trying to find some way to reach you.”

The her in question was a rather well put together 16 year old girl who was like a mirror of his younger years. She certainly had his eyes. Eleanor,her name was Eleanor

He’s not stupid and he puts two together quite easily.

Mom gone to cancer,the youngster was left in Gotham to survive on her own with only the understanding that he was her father. Her mother had apparently kept his tie from the fateful evening.

Apart of him him tells himself to just not bother with her,the other stronger side tells him not to be his father

Things are tense at first with moving in. He’s never really shared a space before with anyone so he’s avoidant at first. Not thinking she’s going to be much help with his projects

He is completely surprised when he finds out she knows her way around electronics

But then he realizes the kid has his photographic memory. And his sass……

“When was the last time you took a shower?” “Please explain to me a how a shower will improve any of my plans.” “Simple: you’ll stop me from dying from gross sewer dad smell.”

It irritates the hell out of him but when she start’s jabbing at the other rouges he’s a proud man.

They bond over getting work done,so much time lost yet there making up for it real quick

She created a rather wacky Rubik’s cube that left Batman puzzled for at least two days

Of course he got a kick out of taunting the dork knight while also genuinely being proud of his daughter

It’s hard to get used to hearing the word “dad” in relation to him but it’s a title he “humbly” accepts in the end

BTAS

He received a knock on his door one extremely sunny morning

Gina found him after his “reformation” and partnership with wacko toys was announced to the public. It wasn’t hard tracking down a man in the spotlight

Edward is of course absolutely stunned by the realization.

To his understanding the girl from metropolis knew the basics of his criminal career. The off traps and puzzles were something well known outside of the city.

He feels out of obligation to take her in,I mean he’s a villain but not a monster. Kid gets say down with some hot coco

Of course when he is brought back to Arkham the poor kid is quick to go and visit him and calm him down as well as work on a way to get him out

He’s rather surprised when he get broken out by jervis and Jonathan and they have him a letter from his prodigy with little xoxo’s and detailed escape plans

When he does get home he pretty much is dead set on teaching her everything he possibly can,how he got the virtual reality set up to work,his more simple traps

Of course just like her dear old dad she’s quick to design some of her own.

“A nothing machine that actually does something……. Out of the box but I adore the ingenuity.” “At least it’s more safe than the vr incident”

BTAA

It was another day of Eddie not being able to figure something out using the box method,unfortunately sticking two nuclear bombs and a tricycle and an old Macintosh in the box just wasn’t cutting it that day.

Cue Tuesday getting a phone call from Miss autumn at the behest of scarecrow

“Hey Eddie do you have any kids you forgot to tell me about?? “No….why?” “Oh geez”

He’s basically the surprised pikachu face meme when he meets Tina,kid was smart enough to get the drug king pin of Gotham to listen to her.

She looks so much like him!!

Of course he’s still skeptical! I mean any kid can just say there his! (But still!)

That completely disappears when the kid creates her own gizmos that rival her fathers

Of course rivaling his intellect means also rivaling his ability sass and make fun of everyone else

“A toaster with a tv screen?” “I know,I know not my best work.” “Well duh coulda thrown it in Gotham harbor and it would be more useful.”

Of course him and her quickly put their collective mind brains together and craft some rather complex new plans

Tuesday is totally chill with her around especially considering she’s able to chill him out when he’s suffering from writers block

Really Edward just got another child on top of already having miss Tuesday. He loves his two daughters from their two different origins

Zero year

Moira visited his cell at Arkham shortly after his defeat at zero year

He was already not in the mood for visitors until the determined teen calls him an idiot in a lime colored pimp suit

Hey! He doesn’t need some red headed brat coming in to his cell like she owns the place!

Oh wait…….

Let’s just say that he smartens up real quick to what’s going on.

Initially wants to tell the kid to bug off,he’s got a criminal career to succeed in but she’s quick to point out he doesn’t have anything right now

So they come to an agreement: get him outta there and he’ll maybe let her crash with him for awhile

So color him surprised when she gets him out safe with minimal bruising

Hell she’s pretty damm smart he has to admit,she certainly didn’t get it from her mother

He does ask eventually what became of his ex,a car crash left the poor kid with barely much. He was kinda her best and only option go figure

He’s snarky with the kid for awhile,of course she’s very quick to throw it right back at him

But they quickly start to getting together quite well especially when they DO get into a fight and quickly realize how stupid it was to begin with

I mean c’mon,kid could probably rule Gotham in less than a week. She’s not someone he wants to scorn

She’s a pretty smart kid he guesses (he totally loves her he’s just got an ego)

[shaakyhaands]

CODVN but (some of) the princes play DND:

How they start playing, idk. Maybe it’s a dare. Maybe it’s a genuine, honest to god attempt from one of the princes to learn more about MC and her habits/hobbies/culture. Imo, Fenn probably did something and of course, the other princes got dragged into it.

Mc: DM

• is the one who introduced the game.

• Teaches the princes how to play

• tortures them when possible.

Toa and Guy:

• Wizards, because MC punked them.

• Convinced them they were the most powerful class at higher levels, neglected to inform them that they start with fuck all health.

• “Here’s this: if you’re so smart, why don’t you play a mundane who has to study magic? Humans play this class all the time, I bet you can’t handle it…”

• “You bet??? YOu BET?? Very well, speak less” *gets hit once, almost dies from 7 points of damage*

• Guy demands the opportunity to change his class, MC responds: “Okay! I’ll let you change your class— and everyone else will get the chance to multi class :)”

Toa: “multi… class?”

MC: “Oh, it’s when you get to reap the benefits of your character occupying two classes at once :)”

Guy grumbles, and falls into a stony silence.

• the two *barely* survive levels 1-3, but somehow they pull through. And suddenly, outside of game, they’ve started acting with a little more respect for those not magically gifted…

Fenn: Paladin.

• Still charisma based, so can still rizz and charm like Fenn is used to.

• But playing as a Paladin also serves as wish fulfillment, because that’s what DND is all about.

• You might be thinking, “A paladin?? But Fenn should be a Bard, it’s so clearly the best fit”. And I get you! But that’s exactly it— Fenn is already a Bard in his real life. Playing as one in game does nothing special for him. There’s no escapism, no fantasy. Here, he can be a knight in shining armor, upstanding and righteous, and all the other things not typically associated with Fenn. All the other things people don’t let him be, that his reputation prevent him from ever really achieving. Here, he can basically role play as Greyson. And honestly, who wouldn’t?

• is the first prince MC introduced the game to

• lowkey gets into it, and eventually does some of his own campaigns :)

Roy: Bard.

• Again, the name of the game is DND Wish Fulfillment. Roy looks up to Guy, who’s attribute is charisma. What class is based on that stat again? BARD. And now, Roy doesn’t have to be morally upstanding and perfect and unsoiled. He gets to be a little shit and enjoy it.

Lynt: I have no idea, NGL, but I’m thinking warlock.

• This is basically a DND joke— if you don’t know, warlocks have like, two spell slots. So if they want to cast more spells, they need to recharge, which is basically some form of rest.

• Don’t let this fool you, warlocks can be fucking BUSTED. Those two/three spell slots, they put them to fucking WORK. But they gotta get their rest in, dawg.

• in this way, they remind me of our sleepy boy. Quietly powerful as hell, but really only fuck around if they HAVE to. Otherwise, they kind of just mind their business.

Rio: Barbarian

• one of the easier classes to start with— and I know they’re ALL just starting, and I love Rio, but he can use the training wheels. Ain’t no shame in that.

• he approaches life in a way that’s very similar to barbarians: in a story, when Toa was telling him he was trying to put too much magic through too small an opening, Rio’s response was “oh, I know what to do! That just means I need to use EVEN MORE magic!” Like, shit, go off king.

• unlike some of the other princes, I don’t think he would be adverse to using melee over magic.

Lance: Rogue/Druid RANGER

• Lance gets to multi class because 1. I’m biased, and 2. I can see arguments for both classes.

• you may be thinking, “but shaaky, he’s the prince of wrath! His kingdom’s main export is mercenaries, ffs. Shouldn’t HE be a barbarian, or at least a fighter?” And again, I hear you! But, you gotta remember the magic words! Say em with me: “DND is wish fulfillment”. Lance fucking HATES how his kingdom is ran. That’s like, 80% of his story. He wouldn’t WANT to play a character built like that. Unless… it was for the people.

• correct me if I’m wrong, but Lance is the only prince who knows what it’s like to be poor. Not just a commoner, like actually destitute. He’s probably the prince with the most street smarts. And lowkey, he’s probably had to steal shit to survive at some point. He 1000% would ace the rogue class, and would probably stun the princes while he did it.

• Lance: “I loot the body”

Toa: “pardon?”

Lance: “I slit the guards throat, he fell over prone. I loot the body, for whatever valuables are on his person.”

MC: “make an investigation check”

Lynt: “…😨”

• Druid is there if he wanted to just fuck around and hang with animals.

• RANGER, oh my GOD ranger is RIGHT THERE, how did I miss that—

• Ranger is basically the flavor you get when you mix rogue and druid together, so it makes sense that it would fit Lance

• the man fucks off to the forest first chance he gets, everytime.

• just give him a bow already— he probably knows how to use it given his Ira background

• it’s the final battle, the other princes are up against the BBEG: Toa and Guy are on the brink of death, Roy and Rio are down, Fenn and Lynt are barely hanging in there— and then out of nowhere, a hissing noise rings out above everybody, followed by a sickening thwa-CHUNK. An arrow has lodged itself smack dab between the BBEG’s eyes, he falls over, dead. From 600 yards away, Lance’s character stands up, says “finally”, and leaves.

Other silly little head canons:

• instead of maps, MC uses magic to generate basically holograms of bosses and character minis.

The holograms move. So when the giant beast bellows, I mean it literally bellows, claws out and spittle flying and everything. More than once have the princes jumped back in their seats, genuinely scared by the images she generated.

Toa, traumatized: “Remember when I said you had no imagination?… I take it back. I take it all back…”

Guy, thinking to himself: if she ever did go evil on us, we’d be fucked…

• MC will call them on it if the princes lapse out of character.

MC will remind them their characters are, in some way very starkly, different from themselves, and for the story, those differences matter.

Guy: “what do you mean, he said he wouldn’t let us past?”

Mc shakes her head, does an accent: “gainst the rules, boy. Can’t be doing that”.

“Against the—?! You will LET ME PAST, you insolent mongrel—”

Mc: “roll to intimidate.”

Guy: “roll?”

Mc: “I’m sure, being a huffy prince of a powerful kingdom and all, demanding stuff usually works for you. But might I remind you, your highness— that you are playing a game. and in this game, your character is a scrawny, bookish sapling of a man who weighs about a third as much as the guard you’re talking to, and is around half his height. Tell me, what’s your charisma modifier?”

Guy frowns, but looks through his character sheet.

Guy: “… negative one?”

MC smiles: “Your character has the charisma of dragon piss filled boot. Which means you need a 16 or higher, otherwise this guard is going to laugh in your face and pat you on the head.”

Guy stares at MC, but says nothing.

Mc: “Now, your wisdom modifier?”

Guy: “what?”

Mc: “your wisdom modifier, what is it?”

He checks his sheet again.

Guy: “… it’s a positive 4.”

Mc: “you’re right, it is. Which is a hell of a lot better than a negative one. So, while it may not be intuitive, you’re going to be much more likely to convince this man to let you through if you utilize a wisdom based approach, as opposed to relying on charisma.”

Toa snorts: “what would you know of wisdom?”

Mc: “might I remind you that being an asshole is not listed as one of your character’s traits? Also, your character is currently otherwised engaged, trying not to die from missing the last step on the staircase. As such, you can’t hear this exchange.”

• Eventually, after getting familiar with the games mechanics, the princes do a campaign where they get isakied to Earth.

MC throws a lot of mundane shit at them, and they absolutely flounder trying to make any sense of it.

Guy: “Peanut butter?? What do you mean he’s allergic to peanut butter, what the devil is that??? Epipen??!”

Lynt, confused: “Almond milk?… how do they…?”

Toa: “I assure the woman that I am not, in fact, “tripping”, as she so claims. The floor is clear and level, and there are no staircases in sight.”

Fenn: “what do you mean he’s 63??? Good Creator, how long are humans lives again? Wasn’t it at least a 1000 years?…”

[winters-mistress]

Of big, gentle hands

Ciri hadn't known much -if anything- about witchers before her father of surprise had appeared like a mirage in that wet, sodden forest. Hells, she hasn't even known that he was a witcher until one of their first, awkward conversations after leaving Goldencheeks, her husband and sons. And from what she had seen on the road, Witchers weren't popular beings.

She and Geralt hadn't been at any inns, with Ciri being too fearful of human contact ever since her encounter with her used-to-be friends. But she had heard talk and mutter from the public when Geralt had looked at the notice board for jobs, even though he only took whatever they really, really needed. Both of them far preferred to hunt and rest in forests, and continue on the move, but the words still stuck with her.

Mutant. Murderer. Unfeeling. Unatural. Monster. Freak.

Ciri had been shocked, for the idea of monster hunters to defend humans, only to be turned upon and hated had been startling. But, after she thought about it, it wasn't that far fetched, seeing what had happened to her. What was happening to her.

Geralt wasn't a talkative man, she knew, and while he didn't seem to be affected by these words, Ciri wasn't sure if he had been or not. So, she had crawled over to him, ignoring the purse full of coin by his knee, she had wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rested her cheek on his shoulder.

"You're not like them, Geralt. You're not what they say." she had insisted quietly. "You're good. Far better than what any of them could be."

He had grunted a reply, and didn't say anything else, but she knew that his grunt had been a pleased one.

The rightful Queen of Cintra was glad that she had swapped her fine, lush cloak for a couple armfulls of Goldencheeks' elder sons clothing. A couple pairs of leather trousers, a few tunics, a black fur cloak and a pair of brown boots. She doesn't remember the other clothes off the top of her head, but she's glad for them, being in this cold, creaky keep with a handful of witchers.

Her arms still burn from the hours with her training sword, and her hip and knee smart from falling off the various training machines, and her nose is cold, but her stomach is full and her anxieties are dulled. Who better to protect her rather than a harem of warriors?

The largest of the bunch, the only twice mutated one, she's learned, sits next to her as they listen to Lambert and Coën share stories of their yesteryears.

She giggles when Lambert looses his temper and spears Coën from their bench, falling upon the floor and beginning to wrestle and swing for each other, grunting as they roll back and forth.

"You'll break the damn furniture!" Vesemir snaps from the other side of Geralt, but there isn't an ounce of heat in his gruff voice. He's grinning, especially when his firey, asshole pup flips him the one fingered salute.

A wave of tiredness overcomes her. It's nice, being warm and full and safe and protected and loved, a feeling she hasn't felt since she wore pretty dresses and danced and swam and rode horses and was put to bed with a bedtime story. Now, she's raggedy and wild, a family of hardened men who were so soft and cuddly who sowed her how to disembowel her enemy and learn about monsters and how to swing a sword that one day, she may have the black knight's head upon a spike and her throne be warm for her.

But that's for the future, right now she's content being where she is, leaning her head upon her father of surprise and enjoying his warmth.

His arm surrounds her back, hand laying limply upon her shoulder. All witchers run hot, she's learned. It's an interesting thing to learn, unexpected, just as much as the cuddles were.

She leans deeper into him, eyes closing

"Tired?" His deep voice rumbles in her ear. His big, gentle hand runs from her shoulder to her back, soothing her like a mother soothes a baby. She leans deeper into him.

"M'hmm." she mumbled. If she had a blanket, she could probably fall asleep here.

"Come on, let's get you to bed."

She doesn't want to, she's loathe to move from this really rather comfortable position, even if she's sat upon a splintery wooden bench, and Geralt really should take a bath soon.

She goes to pick up her head from his shoulder, but he beats her to it. The hand finds her shoulder again, and the other finds her knees.

She's in the air, before she's not, settling into her father of surprise's arms, nuzzling into his chest.

Unnatural be damned, here and now, listening to her new uncles fight and bicker, cuddling into her new father, it's the most natural thing in the world.

[nyxivy]

Dude your boorman fic fed my ❤ I loved it soooooooo much. If you ever do another one you should definitely do one in the Nockmaar castle. If not a graydon one where he's possessed and talking to Y/N like he did with elora which I think was episode 4. They're just sooooo fine.

thank you so much!! <3 There are defo more boorman fics brewing but i just loved the graydon idea so much i just had to!! as always its a gender neutral reader, the reader's a bit angry in this one but i don't think they actually dislike anyone they're just stressed. hope you enjoy!! <3 <3

It was hell to see Graydon like this, for almost as long as you had been a knight, you had been his personal protector. You were best friends and companions in almost everything you did, even on your days off. You had been there the day he-  the day his brother died. You’d seen the thing that had taken control of his mind and body and you had vowed to yourself that you’d never let anything like that in again.

Yet here you were, Graydon chained by his wrists, kneeling on the cold, damp floor of Nockmaar castle of all places. You hadn’t left his side since the injury, your defences heightened to the point it took several minutes of debate to even let Boorman help you carry Graydon inside, you would have slung him over your shoulder and done it completely yourself. Now you knelt beside him, a dirty rag in your hand to periodically wipe sweat from his forehead or vomit from his chin. Your heart clenched every time he wretched and you think you must look as heartbroken as you feel because the others keep looking at you almost as worriedly as they looked at Graydon.

“What happened to Ballentine and Merrick is gonna happen to me,” Graydon says quietly into the silence of the cavernous room. It feels like he’s voicing a thought that everyone’s having so you screw your eyes shut and shake your head almost imperceptibly. You knew this was going to happen, Graydon was far too smart and far too righteous for his own good and you swear if he suggests any one of you kill him you were going to scream.

“And you guys are gonna have to stop me before I. . .”

A well timed thunderclap echoes through the room as your grip tightens on his tunic where your hand is laid on his shoulder to keep him steady. You're unable to muster up anything in response so you just swallow hard, trying to get rid of the lump in your throat.

In the background you can hear Elora questioning Willow but all you can hear is the rushing of blood in your ears, you only pay attention when Graydon speaks again and you can’t help but smile, of course he can still recite the epic tale of Bavmorda’s defeat whilst in his condition. He was obsessed with stuff like this. It was one of the things you lov-  admired about him. At the end of his speech he retched again.

Throughout the evening you attempted to feed him tiny morsels of food, you hadn’t said a word to the others, the only sounds you made were to murmur things to Graydon calmingly and the only time you moved was to fetch him water, more food or a clean rag. Right now you sat cross-legged with his head resting on your thigh, you stroked his head lovingly and hummed softly so that only you and Graydon could hear it, although you wouldn’t have really cared if the others did hear.

“How long does he have?” 

The sound of Jade’s voice catches your attention although you don’t look up

“Until it takes hold?”

Eventuallly, Willow answers her 

“Not long. Some time in the small hours of the morning he’ll lose control”

“I mean we all know what has to be done.” Kit says gravely

This does make you look up and you hurl a venomous look at her

“You little sh-” you begin, your voice croaky from the hours spent in silence but still seething with rage.

“Kit’s right” Graydon says quietly, laying a gentle hand on your leg, halting you before you can start to throw insults around.

“I’ve had some experience with this before and I know I’m not strong enough to stop it. . . I don’t want to hurt you guys. . .But I will”

His voice is so forlorn that it only hardens your resolve.

“You are not dying tonight,” Your voice is steely but your eyes are soft as you put a hand on the back of his neck and press your forehead to his. It was perhaps too intimate a gesture for the company but you had left your manners behind long ago.

Elora stands from where she was seated besides the two of you

“If Her Highness is in such a hurry to see it done, she ought to do it herself.”

You were glad to have at least one ally in this

“Oh, you don’t think I will?”

“Uh, I don’t” Boorman pipes up from his place beside the fire, his mouth still full. “Killin’ someone who isn’t trying to kill you back, it's not an easy thing to do”

You stand to take a step towards them, besides Elora, your hand going to your sword at your belt threateningly.

“There’ll definitely be someone trying to kill her back”

Elora pleads that there must be something Willow could do and you can’t help but agree, he was supposed to be the greatest sorcerer in the world. If Graydon died tonight and his personal fucking hero; the allmighty sorcerer Willow couldn’t save him you might just kill everyone in this room and then yourself.

When Willow agrees to at least attempt to help Graydon, you follow him out of the room and into what looks like a large storage cupboard, although you recognise very few of the ingredients in the jars on the shelves. You hurry to help everyone collect the ingredients and tools Willow listed off, nervous about leaving Graydon for too long.

“We can’t allow Graydon’s infection to pass to any of us, if it does we won't get out of here alive” Willow says as everyone gathers at a table ready to split up to their own tasks. You’re biting your nails, restless about getting back to Graydon.

“How infectious are you talking, like if he coughs on us? Or if I touch him and then I, you know, touch my face or. . .”

“I’ve been touching him all night, you couldn’t have said something before?” You demand. You can tell Boorman’s about to make a comment without even having to look at him “Not like that” You growl.

“The vermiscus goo.” Willow clarifies “Don’t sniff it, don’t wipe it, don’t eat it”

“Why would we eat it?” Elora ponders but you’re already done with this conversation and about halfway to the door when Willow seems to remember something else.

“Wait! There’s one thing even more important than that. No matter what, stay out of the High Tower. It’s maybe, probably a portal to the Netherworld”

“Portal to the Netherworld,” You mutter “Of course it is”

There’s another thunderclap and you leave the room before anyone else says another word.

Once you’ve returned to Graydon you deposit your armfuls of ingredients on a small table and when Willow arrives not long after you , you help Graydon into a reclined position on another kind of table. 

“Hey, now this is looking like a real exorcism” You joke, trying to lighten the mood. 

Graydon chuckles but it quickly turns into a cough. When Kit returns with the rest of the ingredients, you busy yourself with mashing together something the way Willow instructed, if you listen to her for more than five seconds right now you’re not sure if you could stop yourself from doing something stupid and what Graydon really doesn’t need right now is a fight. You had always been wary of Kit. She didn’t want to get married, you get that, but the way she treated Graydon had been grating on you from the moment you met her. Graydon had tried to give her the benefit of the doubt but your patience was wearing thin. It’s not even like her status as Graydon’s fiance meant she was trying to take him away from you. Not that you owned him, obviously, but you couldn’t help the bubbling jealousy beneath the surface that she was the one who got to marry him. And now she was basically advocating for his death, without even trying to save him. It was a double edged sword, you hated that she didn’t like Graydon but if she was any kinder to him your jealousy would probably be unbearable.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when Willow puts a hand on your shoulder and you realise that the ingredients are far past mashed together and the mortar and pestle in your hands are gripped so tightly that they threaten to shatter. Willow gives you a tight lipped sympathetic smile and takes the bowl from you gently.

When Willow pulls out a large pair of shears you jump to your feet, ready to defend Graydon once again but Willow just uses them to cut open his shirt. 

You’d seen his scars a few times before, the first time when you had been showing him some of your scars and he was adamant he had you beat and you wouldn’t let it go until he showed you, the second time you had burst into his room while he was changing, much to the embarrassment of you both and the third time on one glorious summer evening when the two of you had been walking by a lake and you had convinced him to come swimming with you. He was usually very wary of anyone else seeing his scars but you had convinced him it was just the two of you. The memories flashed before your eyes as you put a comforting hand on his shoulder while he explained them to Willow and Elora. You wanted to tell them to mind their own fucking business but you were trying to keep a hold of your temper for Graydons sake and pissing off the only two people who might be able to save him was not smart.

Willow retreats to grab a bucket from his workstation and returns, gesturing for you to move out of the way. Reluctantly and with one final squeeze to his shoulder you step back to stand besides Elora. 

Graydon screams as the liquid from the bucket connects with his flesh. You screw your eyes shut, the sizzling sound of his flesh making you want to vomit or curl up into a ball or both. Elora’s hand finds yours and she squeezes you tightly. You squeeze her hand back and the two of you stand there for what feels like an eternity.

You feel utterly fucking useless, hours go by and all you can do is stand and watch. You’re not a sorcerer, you don’t know how to do spells or make potions. Hell, you’re not even that good at cooking. You knew how to fight, this sorcery stuff was Graydon's specialty, if only you could just punch this fucking Lich out of him. The sound of Willow and Elora chanting was driving you insane, the same gibberish over and over again and nothing seemed to be happening. Even in his state Graydon was able to correct Elora’s pronunciation of the spell. It made you smile despite the circumstances

Eventually Kit returned with the final ingredients. Graydon seemed to have settled down into a restless sleep while Elora and Willow finished the salve. You hovered nervously at Graydon’s side, biting your nails as you watch the two sorcerers work. Willow collects a blob of the salve on the tip of a knife that Boorman had retrieved earlier and presses it to the wound at Graydon’s shoulder. You tense up ready for the screaming to start again but it doesn’t seem to bother him. You don't know if that's a good sign or a bad sign.

Suddenly he sits bolt upright, his hands coming to fists in Willows tunic 

“Get me some water, peck”

It was Graydon's voice but it didn’t sound like him at all.

“Or you die. Understand? Water”

Elora hurries to fetch him water and you take a step forward, your hand outstretched tentatively, unsure if you should touch him or not.

“Graydon?” You ask softly, his eyes snap to you before his head flies back and the sound of Airk’s voice emanates from his throat.

“It’s not Airk, it’s the Lich, trying to break our concentration” Willow warns. 

Unable to cope, Kit runs from the room and Elora and Willow continue their chanting. When Graydon's voice switches to Mims, addressing Willow now he stuffs a rag in his mouth and your resolve breaks. You don’t care if you’re risking infecting yourself, you sink to your knees at Graydon’s side, an arm reach over his chest to hold him, your other hand around his chained bicep. You press your forehead to his side and the sound of Elora and Willow chanting and then breaking into argument is far in the distance. You focus on the fact you can still hear him breathing and you murmur quietly to him, telling him it’s gonna be alright. And that Willow and Elora are going to save him. Eventually you feel a hand on your shoulder, it’s Willow, holding some sort of instrument that looks more like a weapon than anything that would be used to heal someone. He has a grave look on his face

“You need to leave. You’re not going to want to see this.”

Silently you stand, and give Graydon one last look before leaving the room. You hadn’t noticed that Elora had left but there was no sight of her as you’re walking down the corridor. Piercing through the silence, Graydon’s screams start up again and you clap your hands over your ears and take off running, you need to get away from this awful place. Eventually, when you can no longer hear Graydon’s screams you stop running, you don’t know where you are, all the corridors look the same anyway, you sink down against the wall, bringing your knees up to your chest. There you sit, huddled up against the wall for what could have been minutes or hours. Eventually you’re too exhausted to keep your eyes open and you doze off. You think you’re dreaming at first, you can hear Graydon’s voice echoing around you but as it gets closer and you begin to wake up you can still hear his voice, and is that Elora too? You scramble to your feet and run towards the sound.

“Graydon?” You call, the hope in your voice is obvious.

You turn a corner and there he is, looking a little bit worse for wear but otherwise unharmed. You race towards him, collecting him in a bone crushing hug

“What happened?” You demand “Where’s Willow?”

They explain what Graydon told Elora, that the exorcism worked but now the Lich was possessing Willow and they needed to find him. Elora tells you that they think he might be in the High Tower and you nod, it makes sense but you can’t help but get a bad feeling about it in the pit of your stomach. Something wasn’t right. 

Right now though you couldn’t care less, with Graydon’s hand clutched in yours you felt like you could do anything and you were going to kick that Lich’s ass.

The three of you race up to the High Tower, Elora leading the way. Every so often, you catch Graydon glancing over at you with a smile and you wonder how much of the evening he remembers. The butterflies in your stomach soon overtake the previous unease and you’re almost embarrassed by how much of a wreck you were earlier. The door to the High Tower creaks open, revealing a dark and dusty yet empty room.

“He’s not here” Elora says, sounding defeated.

Graydon’s hand slips from yours and he begins to walk slowly into the room.

“No.” he says. You frown.

“I don’t understand, where could he be?”

“I don’t know, but maybe it’s okay.”

“What do you mean okay? We have to find him before it’s too late”

“Don’t you see?”

The sinking feeling in your stomach has returned and you find your hand creeping towards your sword.

“It doesn’t matter.” The previously unlit candles spring to life and you feel sick.

Graydon turns to face the two of you, two minutes ago he had looked unharmed, now it looked like his skin was blistering and peeling from his face. 

You unsheath your sword, it feels heavy in your hands as Graydon says

“He can’t help you anymore.”

Elora runs for the door but an unseen force slams it shut before she can reach it. You don’t take your eyes off Graydon

“We’re gonna finish the ritual. Tonight”

You take a step towards him

“Graydon, I know you’re in there. I know you can hear me,” you plead “this isn’t you”

“I’ve never felt stronger” His voice is distorted. This is not the Graydon you know. And it certainly isn’t the Graydon you love. He picks up a boulder from the floor and hoists it over his shoulder.

“Look! I’m strong now! I can finally protect you like you want. You don’t have to be the one looking after me all the time” His voice breaks and you hear the real Graydon underneath and your heart shatters. You shake your head at him, clutching your sword in both hands, terrified that you’re going to have to use it. 

“That is not what I want. You’re already strong, Graydon,” 

You can hear your blood rushing in your ears, your head is pounding, there’s definitely something fucked up about this tower. The tears you’ve been holding back prick at your eyes and threaten to spill out.

“You’re strong in ways that matter! In the real way! You’re smart and kind, I wish I was more like you!” Your voice cracks and you’re desperately trying not to let the tears spill out. Graydon looks unphased but you can see something swimming in his eyes. The real him is still there.

Suddenly the door swings open and Willow appears

“What did I say was the number one most important safety rule?”

Graydon hurls his rock at Willow who dives out of the way just in time. You launch yourself at Graydon, who just flings you backwards with a flick of his wrist where you fly into the door, hitting the back of your head with a slam. You black out for just a second but when you come to Graydon has Elora levitating high into the air.

“So tell me, how will you defeat us?”

You stand as willow says 

“Same as last time, with my friends.”

The door opens and Kit, Jade and Boorman stand besides you. You think for a moment that Graydon looks worried and is soon proved right when Willow uses his staff to send him flying backwards into the wall. Kit, Jade and Boorman run to pin him down. You’re still dazed, using a pillar to stop yourself from collapsing back on the floor when you hear Boorman's voice.

“We have to do it”

You know exactly what he means and you let out a yell, hurling yourself towards him. You are not letting anyone kill your best friend. Your tousle with Boorman for a moment, you think you’ve just got the upper hand when he lands a blow right to the bruise on the back of your head. Your vision swims and he manages to get a grip on your arms, holding you as you struggle against him. You scream in frustration, the tears finally spilling over onto your cheeks. Kit and Jade still battle to hold Graydon down although Jade has her sword half unsheathed and only Kit’s exclamation to wait stops her from using it. You’re sobbing now, fighting fruitlessly against Boorman’s hold. You just need to get to him, you just need to be with him. The world grows strangely silent as you turn your attention to Elora

“Please-!” you choke out “You need to save him please”

Slowly she makes her way over to you, you think it has nothing to do with your pleading and everything to do with whatever it was Kit just said to her but you don’t care. You just need her to save him. She holds her hand out to you and reluctantly Boorman lets you go to take it.

“I need your help” she says

You shake your head, the tears still flowing. 

“I’m no good at that shit. I can’t do magic. That’s Graydon’s thing”

“Do you love him?”

You’re taken aback but slowly you nod

“Then you can do it.”

She leads you over to Graydon who doesn’t fight back as Jade relinquishes her hold on him. Elora’s hand remains firmly in yours as you lean over the man you love. You feel as though he’s staring directly into your soul as your eyes flutter shut and your lips connect, the taste of him mingling with your salty tears. When you part you can see the wisps of gold light, streaming out from his mouth and into yours and when you turn to look you can see it travelling through your arm and into Elora where your hands connect. You watch as it dissipates out of her into the night air and you turn around to see Graydon staring at you in awe. You sob, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your head in his neck

“You asshole, don’t ever do that to me again” You blubber. His hand comes up to the back of your head and he laughs breathlessly 

“I knew you could do it.”

[symphonic-scream]

So uh here's some Okujima slash Makoharu from my Chaos Arcana swap

They're were classmates back in middle school, not really friends but two quiet kids who'd spend time together. Little Makoto had the biggest baby gay crush on Haru, so she was hella awkward around her as well

In their first year both became very isolated due to Kamoshida's meddling. Haru wasn't getting close to people out of fear that he'd stay true to his word and use his info to destroy her dad's company, and everyone was avoiding Makoto to avoid similar rumours spreading about them

Makoto sees Haru as they pass in the halls over the years and. Just like with the other girls she knows Kamoshida is tricking, she wishes she could do something to put an end to it, to get rid of that hollow look in their eyes

And she does get her chance, when an odd, tall, thin boy comes to their school. People say he killed someone, that he robbed a bank, they say lots of things. But he wants to help, and is the first person to stand by her side

Now one thing about Makoto is she's smart. Very, very smart. However, all that goes down the drain when she gets all bullheaded towards what's right and makes the dumbest fucking decisions ever, throwing herself in the way of danger

Like when she hears a soft voice begging someone else to "stay away, no- no, please -" instinct takes over and she's sprinting down the halls, bursting into the PE faculty office and shoving Kamoshida into his own desk

For the first time, someone has come to Haru's aid, realized the hell she's been living in and come to smash a hole in the ceiling so she can crawl her way free. And sure, all three are going to be expelled over it, but- for the first time in years she doesn't feel like just a doll

Though. Neither Makoto or Yusuke want her to help them take him down. They're secretive about their methods, and is that a bird in Yusuke's bag?? Oh well. If they won't let her repay them then she'll follow them and force them to let her help

And so a Phantom Thief team is born. Haru- or Eros- is always super diligent about using healing spells on Makoto -Knight- just, walking up to her after a fight and laying a gentle hand on her arm or shoulder, giving her a soft little smile

And gay disaster Knight turns bright red, every time

They make a good team, even deciding to keep going after Kamoshida. There's more people they can save, more good they can bring into the world

(okay time to backtrack a little bit for a small intermission of Makoharu moments I have thought up that happen during the Kamoshida arc)

On rainy days, Makoto is often seen without her leather jacket, instead wearing a damp flannel shirt over her uniform shirt. At the same time, Haru can be found with said jacket draped over her shoulders or head, protecting her from the rain

Likewise, some days up on the roof, the two will be seen sharing a Bento. Some days Makoto would have neglected to bring lunch while avoiding her sister in the apartment, or Haru simply forgot while doing other tasks while her father was away

(anyways. Back on track. More under the break I worry about this one maybe getting too long)

Okay let's get Madarame up in this house! So this is when Futaba joins the group, and instead of being an artist, Madarame is like. A software developer or he claims to be one

Madarame Tech is unveiling a new ai help thing for their devices that they call "Wakaba". She is set to be unveiled at a local department store, and in the mean time they're showing off their new game console and PC line and shit. So like. Their mini E3 kinda

Futaba sees the gang on the subway and is caught taking photos of Haru- in reality she liked her aesthetic and was adding it to her folder of inspirations for like. Aesthetic lines for the tech shit I guess?? Idk. However she's a little shit and says she's interested in a. Different way.

This kick-starts that whole plot and starts making Makoto simmer. She doesn't want to see Haru get used again like before, so alarm bells are going off. Especially since she's accepted her feelings have resurfaced and has been trying (awkwardly) to make her move

Okay and then the "nude painting" scene. In exchange for not turning them in to the police right away for accusing Madarame, Futaba claims she wants to just. "touch some tits". Claims she wants to become a hero in her Discord server. I like to write Futaba as asexual so she's bluffing hard, thinking they won't say yes

She's mainly focused on Haru, who seems like she's going to agree in order to save the mission. And that's when Protective, Stupid Makoto steps in

Long story short Makoto and Futaba are playing "boob chicken" until Goro (bird boy) picks the lock and Madarame comes home and reveals yeah he's been using Futaba to finish her mom's programs that he killed her for haha whoops

Anyways they fall into the metaverse and they're about to see Futaba awaken as Python with her persona but first, gay

When Knight lands on the ground, Eros runs over to her. Shes been worrying the whole time, talking Yusuke's ear off about how she hopes Makoto is safe and doesn't have to actually do anything and shit- anyways she checks her over to make sure she's fine, calls her stupid for volunteering, Knight tries to defend her stupidity but oop-

Eros kisses her

...and kisses her again

Goro: are they seriously like, practically making out right now?

Yusuke: this is beautiful

Futaba: what the hell is happening

And bam they're gay from there. Makoto climbs through Haru's window some nights after sneaking out of her and Sae's apartment, ditches classes early to meet Haru at her class to go get lunch

Makoto is a little awkward always, but she's affectionate and making heart eyes always. Maybe a little handsy but she just. Shes feeling loved and loving so it can be excused. Haru also is not complaining so the only complaints are from Goro. And Futaba. And Hifumi. And Kasumi eventually.

When everyone goes to Hawaii, Makoto and Haru both volunteer to go on the trip as third years and are excited about sharing a room in Hawaii and spending time together

...yeah that doesn't happen. There's a room error and some teachers have to join student rooms and. Since Sae and Makoto are sisters. Sae joins her and Haru in their room.

So instead of a romantic getaway, Makoto has to share a hotel bed with her sister who steals the sheets and snores and keeps her up all night

But she and Haru do cuddle on the beach a bit. Throw a towel over an umbrella for a spell, allowing Makoto to catch up on her rest while holding her gf

And then of course the Sacrifice fake death bit. Emotions, angst, more kissing, classic stuff

Oh and for second semester Makoto has a whole crisis about realizing she wouldn't be able to get into college with Haru like she wanted to if she didn't clean up her act a little and starts wearing proper uniform. Her grades were still good so she has a chance

The day she gets her acceptance letter, the same day Haru gets hers, they open them together and they're so fucking excited cause they both got in, holy shit. They sign up to room together and man they're excited to share a dorm

Anyways yeah. Uhm. Them. Please ask me more about this I wanna talk more about this

[abyssling]

⚠️DC vs Vampires #12 Spoilers⚠️Random ending feeling talking

So let's talk about the ending. Straight to the point, I didn't really get the purpose of the end. Barbara takes the throne and becomes the new lead, then leave humanity to what… hope? You mean Kara? Ok now it looks like you suppose to write an 800 words essay but you notice the topic after you have done 750 words already, and the topic is "Dawn of DC".

Honestly, I don't know why DC wants to make every elseworlds connected or slightly stick to the prime world. It's not officially said that DvV is connected to the main story, but the ending title "Dawn" gave me the first thought of it. And have a look at the neighbor issue <Dark Knight of Steel>, it is labeled as Earth-118 in <Dark Crisis Big Bang>. Who knows what's next on the menu?

Back to the #12 story itself. As a DickBabs fan, I can not say I didn't enjoy the bittersweet content between my two sweet potatoes. Dick Grayson looks stunning in his dramatic leather coat that we have seen several times and I still wanna thank whoever designed this for him, you did a gods job.😇 Babs on the other hand very predictable, she tricks Dick with a soft point and makes her "feed Grayson anything he never looks what he eats anyway" plans work. To me, it's quite disappointing that the story ends in a lover's way but the family's way. As I said earlier, this story begins with Batfamily. The tragedy caused by Dick's family, it will be perfect if it ends with the family (Damian). That will be the lesson you learn to go with your brain but your kidney.

We have two characters who got their one-shot issues, Harley and Damian. Harley played her character as the poison blood, very important very badass. But what does Damian do? He fights Grayson once and in the end he just… waits downstairs? Damian should be a more useful character in the final battle.

If anyone remembers there are a few interesting foreshadowing such as bringing back Bruce with Lazarus Pit and magicians trying to reverse the vampirism. I was kinda looking forward to those contents but they just snapped.🥲 (You don't even give Bruce a proper burial?? Look at his half and broken body.🥲)

Another unbearable fact, don't wanna be rude but what's wrong with all the guys in this story? Half of them were torn apart with one take, good guys are keep sacrificed for protecting the big guns. Even Superman can't stand till last. (Where the hell did you get the Kryptonite sword? Batcave? And I was hoping Supes will stand by Dick's side or something? That will be cool.)

Let's see the big guns. We got:

Barbara, Kara, Starfire, Harley Quinn, Mary, and Jayna. All girl's power, I'm not blaming anything, but Grayson are you keeping all the badass manpower to yourself but your family and… Green Arrow? What's on your mind?🤔

Let's just say, I will give 6.5/10 for the whole DC vs Vampires arc. The story is twisty, the storyline is brave, and has some not-so-good character personality writing. Mainly because it brings out too many characters at once and can't focus on the group of its skeleton. We got a very handsome (but not so smart) Dick Grayson as Vampire King and let him be taken down by his lover. Old clich but suited for the dramatic. I still kinda want Dick to win the battle. Anyway, it's a good year for Nightwing fans and DickBabs fans already. Thanks for listening to my Ted Talk.

[everythingnoahsebastian]

Ok this is ridiculous, I love your blog because it has become a ‘safe space’ I guess where I’ve seen so many people give their opinions and theories and I found really stupid that some people are coming after you and YOUR blog just because they seem to dislike Noah, now do y’all hate him? Or just hate the fact that him and his band are now fucking successful? Or do y’all hate the fact that he won’t stay quiet when it comes to shit that piss him off? I’m not here to play white knight for him, in fact I can tell y’all I am terrified of Noah, he’s a very intimidating person he’s fucking smart and I can imagine how stupid some people might feel while being around him, but I also think that man has the biggest heart a person can have and him and his bandmates have been way too nice for too long. First a blog practically begging Noah to contact her? Him? Them? Just in case he was feeling uncomfortable, then someone exposing him in ways no one should be exposed, and now this shit? Come one give me a fucking break, he’s a musician and we are just his fans even if he wasn’t ‘as nice’ as we think he is that’s still not our fucking problem cause it’s not affecting us.

Dammit no a single one of us would be nice if the world was constantly throwing shit at us (y’all know damn well what I’m talking about) leave him ALONE, we are here to enjoy the music, make jokes, enjoy the memes and make theories nothing else. And leave the owner of this blog alone as well all she (idk if you go by she) has ever done is give us a space to talk to each other is she likes Oliver more than Noah that’s her problem not ours it’s HER FUCKING BLOG AND SHE CAN POST WHATEVER THE HELL SHE WANTS.

This 🫶, you're totally right on the things you said about Noah 🥺, omg couldn't have said it in a better way myself.

I go by she, and thanks for your words, love! ❤️

[succubitchxo]

Sympathy For The Devil

authors note: hi <3 i’m knee deep in my supernatural rewatch/fixation and so naturally i thought hey! why not add abaddon into earlier season plot points, i deserve it. so that’s what this is! enjoy and be gentle… this is the first anything i’ve ever posted here.

the second those cage doors swung open, all bets were off. hell had hit the jackpot and they planned on making that clear. demons were lining up to stamp their passports and get a one way ticket upstairs. the promised land. abaddon wasn’t sure what (or who) she should sink her teeth into first. most demons were running off to fall at sam winchesters feet. after all, he’s the one who slipped the key past the guards. but what about dean? without him, the countdown to midnight would’ve never happened. he deserved his flowers too.

if she was a better woman she’d bring him a fruit basket complete with chocolate covered strawberries. but times being as they were and with all the delusions of grandeur the elder winchester was having? a well placed threat and a one time golden ticket to join the winning team would have to do. sam would fall in line soon enough, if he didn’t make the choice himself another demon would swoop in and nudge him in the right direction sooner or later. but dean… dean would need more than push. hell, a shove from the balcony of whatever dingy motel they were hiding out in wouldn’t even be enough. but abaddon was persistent— and she didn’t like losing. he’d fall in line sooner or later. she would make sure of it.

if abaddon didn’t believe her informants that were planted on every corner of the city, she got her proof of exactly where the winchesters were laying low at when she heard that low rumble of an engine pass by. for two boys who really didn’t want anyone or anything following them? they really did topple that plan the second they decided to keep driving that car. lucky for her! the man who broke the first seal was up two flights of stairs, tucked behind a few layers of old insulation and water damage. all it took was a last minute possession and bingo! operation thank the righteous son of a bitch who jumpstarted judgement day was a go.

it was all too easy really. bobby didn’t even try to keep them at bay and dean was too spun out to realize. the second that door flew open it was too late. dean was a captive audience and the knight of hell couldn’t wait to make her 5 minutes of fame leave an impression on the would be “savior”. long red nails knotted into tawny locks, nothing but a few grunts and a low groan filled the dead air between them.

“well, well, well… dean winchester. it’s not everyday you see a dead man walking around topside. last i saw, you were ripped into so many pieces alastair wasn’t even sure he could make you a viable plaything.” the redhead tugged on the chunk of hair tangled between her fingers, a bright smile making its way onto her cherry lips. “but here you are— all stitched back up except for the piece of your soul your angel forgot to grab from the pit.”

confusion was the only word to describe the man’s expression. all that time together downstairs and he didn’t even recognize her? had she really been that forgettable?

“dean… come on. don’t tell me ya don’t recognize me. you and i had such a swell time together.”

the way he squirmed under her grasp told her that jogged his memory. the scowl now resting on his freckled face confirming her theory.

“abaddon.”

“give the boy his prize!” she couldn’t help but laugh, scrunching her nose as she leaned forward. “hi, sweetheart, you and i are gonna have a little chat.”

she didn’t hear the smart ass comment the eldest threw her way, it didn’t matter. abaddon slowly lowered herself to his level, brows furrowed as she studied his expression. tsk, tsk, tsk… he wasn’t listening. not really. her grip on his hair tightened while her other hand moved to grab his jaw.

“all of hell is looking for your brother. they’re getting ready to roll out the red carpet for him all because he popped the lock on daddy’s cage but they’re forgetting about you.” her thumb ran along his chin, a soft gesture that seemed to make deans blood run cold. “without you, there wouldn’t even be a final seal to break. the angels have their set of plans for you but i’m here to offer you a plan b and something tells me… you might like it. they want you to let michael jump your bones and leave you a hollowed out husk.” the knight shuddered at the thought “disgusting. you could do so much more for us. the rest of hell doesn’t realize how big of an asset you could be, winchester. but i do. i’ve seen you with a knife and believe me— you have talent we need.”

abaddon slowly rose to her feet, her grip on the boys hair loosening as she steps back. he could run if he wanted to, sure they’d catch him but this was a test of sorts. she wanted to see what he’d do.

“if sam says yes then the timer starts on you saying yes to michael… but not if you come with me. you join up with a knight of hell and the angels back off. for good. lucifer gets his way, we reset this sad excuse for a planet and you come out on top. angels and demons would kneel at your feet, dean. you could make a name for yourself on our team. sounds like a grand plan if you ask me!”

if he was smart, he’d say yes. join the ranks and rise to the challenge. but dean winchester was stubborn. arrogant. not to mention that soft spot that grew by the minute for his little brother. shame. when he came at her with the demon blade she was quick to lunge out of the way. humans were so… predictable. abaddon shot a look at the demon nestled inside bobby’s brain and as she watched the old man charge at his surrogate son, she felt nothing but disappointment. what a waste of potential.

from there it all happened pretty quick. her underling was meant to cut dean winchester to pieces and skip out before the old man got control back. either she had underestimated bobby, or she had put too much faith in her pathetic excuse of a henchman. regardless of which one was right, she knew she had to get out and FAST. dean was charging straight at her and the look in his eyes told her that he wouldn’t stop until he was sure she was dead. the knight of hell forced a small laugh, her gaze flickering to the vent above her before locking eyes with the incoming threat. one last quip and she’d be gone.

“i’ll be seeing you, dean. try not to miss me too much, lover boy.”

[ofgentleresolve]

knob.​

 ♔ ———–

   I’m fine, I don’t need it.

   Stubborn speech like that is expected and yet, the bones around jaw tighten at the sound. It must be because the words bring an air of familiarity; of the times he’s bled and waved away any offers of help. He’s definitely lost count of the dismissals he’s shot people’s way; knowing that Nakamura and Jae-Hwan might’ve experienced his rejection more than once. This thought leads the detective to wonder if the Black Knight has aiding hands on his side — other souls who have been as close (or closer) as he is right now, with the solid view of burnt edges and blood-stained garments.

    Perhaps. 

    One man shows cannot last as such for too long.

    I’ve dealt with worse. 

     Truth be told, one thing Hyuk has never internally questioned is the vigilante’s strength. Even if the stubborn detective is clueless about a past which seems to be tightly locked, he can tell the Black Knight was not born out of sweet clouds and innocence but out of dark ashes and a deeply rooted ache. He’s been through something, regardless of missed details and skipped clues; regardless of unanswered questions (because he caught that — the avoidance of inquiry when it comes to the watch he saw on their last encounter) and the need to stay silent. So this he does not doubt — the Black Knight having dealt with worse.  

    It doesn’t mean he has to endure this by himself, though.      God, he almost wants to scoff at the irony.      Hyuk pushes others away.     Wants to be alone and hide in a corner to lick his own wounds in peace.      Like an injured creature would.     And yet, and yet — when the Black Knight tries to do the same, he refuses to leave.      Funny how he can’t follow these steps when it comes to himself. 

     A harsh sigh takes place when the vigilante insists on shooting more of his acidic words Hyuk’s way, hands landing on his own hips with a defensive stance. It doesn’t help that the detective has a very short fuse (growing shorter for the past five years) and so, when the Black Knight dares to be noxious to prevent himself from dealing with Hyuk’s offer, he decides to throw a few daggers the other’s way. 

      They aren’t as sharp, though.        Blades laced to those tinges of brusque care he tends to have.

    “Just shut up for once. I couldn’t care less about what I might get out of it. Not everyone is going to help you for leverage or to benefit themselves, you idiot. You think I gain something by having you wander in my office whenever you please? For someone who’s been smart enough to stay in anonymity for so long, you can be foolishly thickheaded.” 

    Concern soon takes over when he witnesses the other struggling. Hyuk takes a few steps forward, yet doesn’t get too close as to not suddenly get pulled by the force of innate defense. One of his arms stretches, as if trying to reach out in case it gets worse; observant of the vigilante’s every move. This episode, indeed, goes against every word shared. About being fine. About not needing anything. The blood the Black Knight keeps leaving on his office is a testament of this; a red-colored cry of help.

    He really isn’t doing well.     What the hell got him into this condition? 

    As soon as the vigilante takes the seat, Hyuk gets to work before the other decides to back down from the impromptu motion. The detective disregards every glower and token of bitterness; opening the heavy first aid kit and getting out the tools he needs to clean the wound while the other undresses. 

     He hears the thud of clothes falling on the decayed floor, knowing that perhaps the Black Knight is going to need another shirt. It’s a good thing Hyuk practically spends most of his life in that office, having spare clothes in a drawer that maybe the vigilante could use — that if he doesn’t start with his usual acrimony. 

     Well, that’s a worry for later. 

     Saline solution is poured onto gauze pads to soak them, putting them in a small container to carry them close to where the vigilante is sitting down. When he finally breaks away from the business of preparation and actually looks up to direct his harsh gaze at the Black Knight, the glare ends up softening.

     Not only does the Black Knight look…vulnerable under the office’s light, but luminescence is quite brutal when showing the whole map of scars traversing on his back and other parts of his body (he can see marks on his neck; his arms–). There’s the fresh one, deep and possibly throbbing; open and spilling crimson, but there are also other old injuries that have left their prominent mark; skin regenerating in the shape of raised patches begging to be seen. Not even the blood can hide them — actually, the color makes them more visible…at least, in the eyes of someone who’s very familiar with the difference between tones of hues and the gnarly vision of wounds. 

     Somehow this makes the vigilante more…real.       More human.       A reminder of mortality, of the battles carried.       Some of these scars even look like burn marks.       God, the notion of fire follows him everywhere.       He hates it.

      Hyuk takes a moment to collect his bearings, not sharing a word despite the curiosity tangled to his bones. Maybe this is one of the reasons the Black Knight covers himself all the way to his neck; uniqueness of scars would make him recognizable. But was it always like this? Are these scars the reason why his defenses are so high; the reason why he decided to take the mantle of the Black Knight? And who, or what, would be so merciless as to sear his skin like this? 

    Stop it, Lee Hyuk. You’re not supposed to care. 

    A deep breath is taken as hands get occupied with the container he left there earlier, grabbing one of the gauzes and carefully dabbing and wiping skin with it. The gauze quickly turns red, discarding that one and continuing with another. The process repeats itself until there’s just a very small amount of red trickling; Hyuk reaching out for bandages to catch the ongoing flow. 

    Pressing the bandages on the injured area, he applies pressure with his hands to try and make the bleeding stop; some of his fingers accidentally colliding with some of the scars that happen to be on the way. 

    “You’re going to need stitches. The cut’s too deep to just treat it with bandages. I…made the bleeding stop a little, but if you’re going to keep doing stunts, then this needs to be closed as soon as possible. I can stitch you up, too.” 

      It’s something he, unfortunately, had to learn.       He can’t afford going to hospitals whenever his recklessness kicks in.

     “I’ll do that. Here,” 

     a hand instinctively reaches out to take the vigilante’s gloved one (he’ll ignore the sudden tremor rising up his spine), guiding it the best way he can to his injured back so he can press the bandages. The pressure won’t be the same due to the hand’s awkward position, but it’ll be enough. 

    “Keep it there while I get the suture set.”

    It’s inside the first aid kit, but he has to move away for a moment to grab it. 

    “Don’t you dare move or you’ll end up with two wounds, not one. This one and another coming from my fist.”

———– ♔  

He’s heard this lecture before, the ‘stop-acting-like-you’re-fine-and-let-me-help-you’ one. He could even list all the variations he’s had the displeasure of sitting through, whether it’s the one laced with concern ( Nell ), the one stoic and threatening in demeanor ( Alfred ), or even the one barely able to hold back its anger ( Taiyang ).

Hyuk’s, acidic and yet also somehow exasperated as if he’s seen the Black Knight do it all and then twice, should be no different. And yet.

“That’s rich, coming from someone who doesn’t listen to anyone’s suggestions.“

Something about this iteration hits DIFFERENTLY. Crawls under his skin. Whereas with the others, it’s merely a matter of putting up a wall to bounce their concerns off of, this one…this one bruises. Cuts even, like the ones seared into his back.

( The thing with relationships, Patrick doesn’t realize, is that they’re two-way streets. Even if Hyuk doesn’t know the Black Knight’s true identity, for all the times Myungdae has intentionally pushed the detective’s buttons, Hyuk does the same. Pawn and Rook both have noted on it-

“You’re scared of him.” Nell observed once. “You lose your cool when you’re around him.”

“Well that would explain why we having to order the smoke bombs en masse.” Alfred added.

Alfred got socked in the jaw after that. They were sparring. )

Patrick crosses his arms, jaw clenched as he balances himself on the stool provided. His head keeps on spinning, but not even vertigo can keep the frustration and sheer ANNOYANCE that this situation ( which is, in hindsight, his doing considering that he picked Hyuk’s office of all places to try and calm himself ) has brought about.

“Knob.”

And yet he’s still sitting here with his wounds uncovered for Hyuk to treat. Perhaps it is immature on his part too, resorting to schoolboy tactics to vent his frustrations,  Twitching at the sound of a solution being poured into what he assumes to be a cloth, he can’t help but dig his fingers into his knees in dread for the next part- when the saline solution is supposed to make contact with his back.

He shifts in his seat, peeking behind him. What is taking Hyuk so long to- he stiffens. Oh.

There’s a look of concern and…painful tenderness on his face. It’s a look Patrick hasn’t seen his dear friend wear in…well ever since the Black Knight started making house calls. Maybe Hyuk would’ve given Patrick that look five years ago. Maybe he still would.

“Are you done looking?” Patrick looks away, fighting the urge to pick up his bloodied shirt and cover them up. The scars. Would Hyuk look at him the same way if he knew the TRUTH behind them?

( So many of them were the result of inflicting pain on others. Unwillingly. Willingly. In self-defense. To save his own skin. )

He squeezes closes his eyes. “I didn’t come here for a pity party.”

The saline solution hits his skin and he bites the inside of his cheek, choking down the wince. He should be used to this, the BURNING that comes with treating open wounds. It cleanses and purifies the body in a catharsis- for wounds to heal, they have to hurt first. First, pain, and then, relief.

Doesn’t mean he has to enjoy it.

( There’s a reason, back in the Black Knight’s base, that patching up wounds is a…two-person job, rather than one. One to actually treat the wounds. The other to hold his hand. It’s childish, he knows. )

Suddenly winded when the burning finally dies down, he tenses as Hyuk’s fingers brush over his back ( funny how much a difference removing blood can make), even the parts with raised skin. Patrick always tries to avoid touching those if possible- they’re just another unwanted reminder. But contrary to most cases, the detective’s fingers don’t feel like intrusions. If anything, they’re…craved, if not even yearned forr, however much of an accident the contact is supposed to be.

It's a dangerous feeling, Patrick tells himself. He needs to stop. He needs a distraction- which is exactly what he gets, even if it is of the bad kind.

“…You’re not going to let me say no, are you?” He already knows the answer to that. The anticipation for the burning pain returns, and it’s even worse now. Sutures- his least favorite type of treatment. If not for the idea of another sharp object piercing his skin, then for the fact the needles need to be cauterized before sinking into flesh.

In other words, a flame is needed.

( The first time Patrick needed sutures, it took Nell and Alfred an hour to get him to sit down. )

His breath hitches, heartbeat picking up as the edge of his vision blurs, unwanted adrenaline taking the place of clarity. His fight-or-flight mode is moments away from kicking in in spite of his body’s protests. Patrick needs this, he knows- Hyuk knows it too: if the Black Knight is going to made another appearance, the stitches are going to keep him from bleeding out.

Did Hyuk notice then? Is that why he grabs Patrick’s gloved hand ( to which of course, Patrick’s stupid first instinct is to squeeze his dear friend’s hand- Patrick manages to restrain himself, thankfully )? Or maybe that’s just Hyuk being painfully practical- that’s what the detective has always been: reckless, yes, but surviving, always, even by the skin of his teeth. And survival always requires a degree of practicality.

For once though, the Black Knight doesn’t have a comeback to Hyuk’s threat. Or maybe Patrick is too busy trying to decipher why he wants Hyuk’s fingers brushing against his own again. Or maybe it’s just the sheer exhaustion from everything that makes him simply huff in disapproval.

“I’ll stab you if you try that.” Or maybe there is still some fight left in him; it’s said half-heartedly though. “Just…make it quick.”

The needle sinks and while the initial prick isn’t nearly as terrible as he expected ( it never is ), Patrick still squeezes his eyes shut. For all the times, he’s welcomed silence, it’s just oppressive here. For a moment, Patrick almost misses his dear friend’s pointed jabs. He swallows the lump in his throat- he can’t keep sitting like this.

“You…you have QUESTIONS, don’t you?”

A statement, not a question, here.

[blue-matches-my-eyes-you-prick]

space emoji!!! stars in space emoji i cant fucking find it but tell me abt ur ocs!!!!!

Rook!

I haven't touched him in a while but he's a hell knight who had an unfortunate, hm, smash and grab encounter with Doo/mguy.

Nearly killed with a massive head injury caused by a certain space marine

Said head injury damaged the part of the brain that allows for higher ranking demons to give directons to lower classes

Still in 'pursuit' of DG after recovering from wounds but not really sure what he's looking for, it's all instinct

Not as agresssive as a fully intact hell knight but he still has his moments

Not seen here but he has a little backpack he scavenged from the super gore nest :) (his original spawn point)

He tries to avoid human settlements as much as possible but mainly he's avoiding harm as much as possible on his journey

[stolen-breath]

𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕤𝕒𝕗𝕖𝕥𝕪

:: ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ :: ᴀʀᴋʜᴀᴍ ᴋɴɪɢʜᴛ × ʏ/ɴ

:: ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ :: ʏᴏᴜ ғᴇʟʟ ᴀsʟᴇᴇᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛ ʜᴀs ᴀ ʙʟᴀɴᴋᴇᴛ sᴏ ᴛʜᴇʏ ɢɪᴠᴇ ɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ

:: sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ :: ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴋʜᴀᴍ ᴋɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ғᴏᴄᴜs ᴏɴ ʜɪs ᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴜɴʟᴇss ʜᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡs ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ sᴀғᴇ, sᴏ ʜᴇ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋs ɪɴᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ sᴜʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇᴠᴀᴄᴜᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏʜ ᴍʏ ɢᴏᴅ ᴡʜʏ ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ sᴛɪʟʟ ʜᴇʀᴇ

:: ᴛᴡs :: ɢᴜɴs, ʙʀᴇᴀᴋɪɴɢ/ᴇɴᴛᴇʀɪɴɢ, ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜɪɴɢ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ sʟᴇᴇᴘ, ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ ᴀʀᴋʜᴀᴍ ᴋɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴀɴɢsᴛ :: wᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ :: 1744 :: ʀᴇᴏ̨ᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ :: ɴᴏ :: sғᴡ :: | ɴsғᴡ

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

:: ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ ɴᴏᴛᴇs :: ᴍʏ ғɪʀsᴛ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇ ғɪᴄ, sᴏ ᴄᴏɴᴄʀɪᴛ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ (ʙᴜᴛ ᴀʟsᴏ ʙᴇ ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪ'ᴍ ᴅᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏɪɴɢ) ᴄᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴇʟʟ ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴍᴀssɪᴠᴇ ᴄʀᴜsʜ ᴏɴ ᴛʜɪs ɴᴇʀᴅ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴜʏs ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ

Scarecrow’s threat worked.  Yesterday, there were 6.3 million people in Gotham City.  Today… not so many.

He has to make sure you’re not one of them.

It’s not that he thinks you’re stupid.  He doesn’t believe that you’d stay behind, not with a threat like that looming over Gotham.  Sure, you used to joke that you’d take on Gotham’s villains with one hand tied behind your back, but even you wouldn’t actually stay in Gotham, not with Scarecrow’s warning about the new toxin.

It’s more to ease his own worry.  Logically, he knows you’re not here – but there’s always that little niggle in the back of his mind, that nagging little voice that never really bothered him until the Joker found it and teased it out until it’s so loud that he can’t think.  What if you didn’t leave?  What if you’re still here, huddled in your apartment, terrified of the horrific sounds happening all around you?  What if you’re creeping through the streets, trying every car in the hopes you’d find one that had a key in it so you can escape?  What if you got trampled by the terrified citizens so desperate to escape that they didn’t care who they hurt in their frenzy?

Stop it, he tells himself firmly, his grip tightening on the grab handle of the armored car until his knuckles gleam white beneath his gloves.  Of course that didn’t happen.  You’re not stupid.  Hell, you’re almost as smart as Babs – or him.  You’re not in the city.  You left – there’s exactly 1% chance you’re still here.

…but that 1% chance is still a chance, and he has to check.  He can’t focus on his work with your safety uncertain like this.  It’s just a quick adventure, he reasons as he watches the neon lights flicker past his gaze, dulled by his helmet.  Ten minutes, in and out.

Your address hasn’t changed.  Even years later, you still live in the crappy side of Gotham, the side he’s tried so many times to drag you away from.  Your apartment building is still run down.  The elevator is still broken.  He can hear his lieutenants grumbling to each other as they follow him up the flights of winding stairs.  He doesn’t even bother shooting them a withering glance.  They’ll live.  If they can’t handle a few flights of stairs, then they definitely aren’t ready to face the Bat.

He could break your door down.  A well placed kick – oh hell, a well aimed sneeze would shatter the hollow plywood barrier.  He instead grabs the spare key from the top of the doorframe.  Christ, even the inside of your one-bedroom place hasn’t changed at all.  It’s like stepping through a portal back in time, back to when he didn’t need a mask to wander the streets of Gotham with you.

Back to when his motivation was love, not hate.

“You two, guard the door,” he barks, a simple button press ensuring that his words are unheard by anyone without a radio earpiece.  “You three, watch the windows.  Let me know if you see the target.”

“Sir, our intel suggests that the Bat is currently on his way to Wayne Tower.  There’s no way he could get here quickly without us knowing –”

This time, the Knight spares one of his infamous withering glances for the lieutenant that dared to voice his ignorance so confidently.  “Never underestimate Batman – and never assume a damn thing.  I’m the only one he can’t surprise.”

Two other lieutenants share a worried glance.  One raises his hand as if he’s still in school and asking a strict teacher a silly question.  “Sir, what if he catches us off-guard?”

“Then try to make a lot of noise when he tosses you out a window.  Knock something over, maybe.”

This is stupid.  This is a waste of time.  Another of his finest tries to speak, but the Knight is done with this bullshit.  With a dismissive wave of his hands, he nudges your door open with his shoulder, his hand on his Glock, and steps inside.

The shivering lump on the mattress is both exhilarating and horrifying.  He can’t tell if his sigh is of relief or frustration.  “Why…?” he grumbles softly, pushing the door shut behind him and approaching the small bed with steps surprisingly quiet in spite of his heavy steel-toed combat boots.  “Damn it, Y/N.”

He doesn’t have to look around.  He can see through the corners of his eyes that your room – just like your address, your living room, the location of your spare key – hasn’t changed at all since he…left.  Your hair, splayed across a faded green pillow, is the same color, the same cut, the same style.  You’re even wearing the same stupid chibi squid pajamas that he never admitted he loved so much and certainly can’t now.

There is one difference.  You’re clinging to a baseball bat, the same aluminum bat that he got you ages ago for home defense (he wanted to get you a gun, but no, you didn’t want a gun, too dangerous).  He can’t help but chuckle under his breath at that.  At least you realize how dangerous Gotham is – even if you were silly enough to stay.

“Why?” he asks softly, a low gumble that is more hummed than spoken.  “Why did you stay?  Gotham’s the most dangerous place in the world right now.”  But of course you don’t answer. You’re asleep.  The sound amplifiers in his helmet pick up your soft sighs, your quiet little snores, the barely audible mumbles of your adorable attempts to talk in your sleep.  He can’t help but reach out to wipe the teeny string of drool that hangs precariously from the corner of your mouth, threatening to drip onto your pillow.

It’s not something you’ll ever see in a romance movie, but to him, it’s the sweetest thing he could ever imagine.  To see you again, exactly as he remembered you.  It’s comforting, in a way.  Memories of you were the only thing that kept him going when he was chained up under Arkham Asylum, the Joker’s deranged cackle echoing in his ears.  It gave him the strength to drag himself from the crumbling dredges of the building even as Batman tore the place to pieces in search of something (but not him, never him, the Bat had given up on him long ago, had replaced him and forgotten him –)

No.  Not here.  In a sudden burst of frustration and madness and desperation, the Knight tears his helmet off his head.  A gust of cold air from the cracked window brushes across his flushed face like a comforting hand, but he doesn’t feel it.  In the confines of the helmet, he tends to forget how important scents are to his humanity.  His eyes drift shut as he inhales slowly, deeply, completely losing himself to the forgotten smells that accompanied you.  Black tea with raspberry infusions and honey from the chipped Batgirl mug on your nightstand.  Dill and thyme and rosemary, the fresh herbs you grow on your kitchen windowsill and constantly forget to harvest.  White sage, from after horror movies.

All intermingling with that intense, all-encompassing scent of you.  Indescribable.  A scent he didn’t know he needed to remember until he stood over you.  The Knight – no.  Not the Knight.  Not here.  Not with you.  Jason doesn’t realize he’s pacing, fists clenched, until his knuckles scream with the strain.  He needs to touch you – to pull you into his arms, run his fingers through your hair, hold you in his arms just to know that you’re real and not one of his terrifying nightmares.

But he can’t.  He’s dead, remember?  Have you moved on?  You used to have pictures of the two of you on your wall.  You don’t anymore.  Is that because the memories of your love are too painful – or did you forget him too?  No pictures of a new partner.  But this is a digital age.  No pictures on the wall means nothing, but he clings to that small fragmented hope.  You’re still waiting for him, all these years later.  He needs that hope.  He can’t even consider that maybe you’ve moved on.  It will break him all over again, and he can’t have that.  Not tonight.

“Sir.”  He doesn’t look away from your sleeping face, instead flinging a gesture at the door behind him to remind the soldier to keep quiet.  “Target is on the move.  We need to go.”  There’s a strained edge to the lieutenant’s voice.  Is Batman closer than he thought, or is it merely nervousness that breaking the boss's focus will result in retaliation?

It should.  But not here.  Not in front of you.

Jason doesn't move immediately.  He risks another second or two, watching your peaceful face, the soft wrinkle of your nose as a mote of dust teases across it.  You don't sneeze.  He wishes you would.  You always had the best sneezes, a soft squeak that he used to tease you endlessly about.  If only Joker hadn't shattered that phone, the one that had all your shared memories.  Even Lucius wouldn't be able to piece that back together.  Not that he could ask.

Finally, when he couldn't risk another moment, he stands up.  He picks the blanket up off the floor and covers your shivering body with it.  Your shivering body slowly relaxes.  You smile, a soft sleepy smile, and sigh softly.  He smiles too, a comforting one, and even he can't tell who's comforting who.  It aches his cheeks.  He hasn't smiled in years.  He likes the feeling.

"After tonight," he promises softly, the low grumble he forces himself to use so he doesn't accidentally wake you up.  "I'll come back after tonight.  Don't worry, Y/N.  You're safe now."  He pulls the helmet back over his head, shifting back into his Arkham Knight persona so easily, as if it's where he belongs, and leaves the room without you ever knowing he was there.

Barked orders, stomping feet, the metallic shift of altered voices drift into your dreams, but you're not afraid.  There's something comforting about the voice that's clearly in charge.  Something familiar.  You don't recognize the voices that remain behind after it leaves, but that's okay.  The voice in charge won't let them hurt you.  He'll burn Gotham to the ground rather than let someone touch a hair on your head.

It reminds you of Jason.

[gallavichthings]

Spring is here! (well, in the Northern Hemisphere it is) The boys are ready for some spring cleaning. Are you?

Welcome to the first ever Gallavich Spring Cleaning!

What is that, you ask? Easy! It’s a multiwork event hosted by @gallavichfanficlibrary and yours truly (with some help of @gallavichprompts​, thank you!) . That means any kind of work is accepted: fics, fanart, videos, gifs, you name it! Oh, and did I mention there are no requirements either? Drabbles and one-shots are more than welcome (my burn-out brain actually thanks you). 

The only rule for this event is: it’s got to be PG-13 - in other words, clean. (Get it? Cause of spring cleaning? *wink wink* I’m very smart). That means no mature teams, no smut, no M18, no ~lemon~. Of course swearing is allowed (I mean, it’s still Ian and Mickey we are talking about), just keep it sfw. Think of it as a reverse kinktober, if you will.

Prompts are under the Read More. You can use only one, several or all of them. Mix and match, if you want to! Repeat them, even!  They’re just your starting points! 

This event will run through the whole month of April, so you may post whenever you want. Tag me (@gallavichthings) so I can see and reblog it as soon as possible. Feel free to also tag the Library if you’re posting fics (oh, and if you can, please put your fics under read mores if they’re too long and you post them here in full, as a courtesy to those roaming the tags). 

For those using AO3, here’s the Collection for this event.

Let’s have some clean fun!

Situation prompts:

Spring cleaning.

It's the first sunny day in what feels like forever, after several weeks of bad weather and storms that have kept them spending most of the time in their apartment. 

Spring: sniffles, pollen, and tissues.

The Big Easter Egg Hunt.

The only thing Mickey knows about his soulmate is that he’s supposed to meet him in the spring.

Teenagers Ian and Mickey somehow end up spending St.Patrick’s Day together, and it’s not a date but it also kinda sorta feels like it might be? 

Spring on the Westside feels different than on the Southside.

Ian and Mickey are slowly turning their apartment into a ‘home’, bringing small touches of themselves into it.

Mickey’s always been a light sleeper who has suffered from nightmares. It’s only when they finally get their apartment sorted that he starts to sleep well and really understand what a good night's sleep can be.

The lease on the apartment is almost up. (Do they stay in the apartment? Move out? Go apartment hunting? Hire a realtor?)

One day Ian comes across an injured cat and nurses it back to health. After a few days he finds a stranger on his couch and the cat is nowhere to see. (Shapeshifting AU)

The last thing Ian expects to see in the mysterious box that Mickey brings to the dugouts is kittens. And he definitely didn’t expect that they would end up caring for them together.

5 times they visited family members + 1 time the family members visited them.

Debbie wants to make a good old Gallaghers’ style BBQ. (Everything goes wrong.)

The king sends his best knight to kill the monster that lives in the forest. Turns out, the monster is pretty charming and doesn’t actually harm anyone. 

Dialogue prompt

“Well, this is new.”

“This isn’t what it looks like, I swear! Okay … it’s kind of what it looks like, but just give me a chance to explain.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“So hang on, let me get this straight.”

“Oh, good, you’re here! Hold this.”

“Oh, wow, you weren’t kidding.”

“Don’t just stand there looking at me.”

“Now, before I say anything, promise me you’ll stay calm.”

“You are remarkably well-behaved tonight. What have you been up to?”

"We both know this will be the first time and the last time we ever attempt this."

"Strike three! You're out!"

“How much longer till we’re there?”

“Ten bucks for this piece of crap!”

“Why do you have that look on your face?”

“No. Hell, no. Absolutely not.”

“And you can’t think of any other reason?”

“Do you maybe think, in retrospect, that this was a terrible idea?”

“Talk to me, okay? I need to know what’s going on.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t exactly blend in.”

“Is this your first time here?”

“We need to come up with a new strategy.”

“I wasn’t sure you remembered me.”

“I never, ever want to hear you say that again.”

“What on earth happened here?”

“You gonna eat that?”

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Is there a character you find difficult to write? How do you feel like your sense of each character has changed over the course of writing them?

This is such an interesting ask I love yooouuuuuu!

Ok SO, I used to find writing basically all of the knights kind of difficult, bar Gwaine, just because NONE of them have as much screen time as they deserve (I was about to say "especially Elyan and Percival" but then realised it would also be "especially Leon and Lancelot and Gwaine and Mordred"😅). BUT it's gotten easier to write them as time goes on.

I always make a concerted effort to make sure all characters present speak in equal amounts, OR I try to give Elyan/Gwen more attention, 1)because they’re some of my faves, I have to admit, and 2)because, as much as it isn't as bad as in other fandoms, I do see POC fans talk about the racism sometimes (mostly about either stereotypes, or characters like Elyan and Gwen basically just being forgotten), and I want to combat that where I can.

I guess I just struggle more with characters I haven't written as much about, like Morgause, and background characters/characters that were only there for one or two episodes, like Kara/Daegel/Will etc. But whenever I struggle I go back to either various BBC Merlin compilations on tiktok/YouTube, or I just skim through episode transcripts to get a feel for things😅

My writing has definitely changed a lot, mostly in skill level lol, and structure; they went from bare-basics drafts, to almost fully fleshed out fics. Plus I slowly started adding characters didn’t used to write with. I never used to have Mordred (or Morgana, really) in most of my old things. Or Morgause or Uther. But that's clearly changed😁.

I definitely got better at writing people’s physical mannerisms, especially Morgana, Arthur, and Merlin, when I began to understand more the way I personally wanted to present them. Morgana with her cunningness, Merlin with his observation skills and ability to lie and think on the spot, Arthur’s habit of getting flustered with emotions, but being confident in his other abilities, etc. 

Speech, I do think I’m better at, you’ll have to let me know. It always felt a bit clunky and forced when I first started writing, but I think the more I wrote, the more I got a handle on the register/tone/vocabulary that each character would use. Before, Merlin, Morgana, Uther, everyone, would always speak in the same way. Now, it’s a little easier to tell from the dialogue alone, the structure they use/the actual words they choose etc, who is speaking. Obviously it’s not perfect, but I like to think in the almost 18 months I’ve been going that I’ve improved a little😅

The knights are a little more difficult, the sense and vibe I want to give each character depends on the fic. though there are some things that stay pretty consistent, as I’ve developed my writing and the way I want to portray them. For example, Leon is almost always Tired and Big-Brotherly, and Gwaine is always deceptively smart and observant. The others vary a lot more, though Mordred is always somewhere on the scale between Teasing-Younger-Brother, and Worshiping-Devotee, Percival is always a gentle giant, and Elyan is quiet but smart and skilled and funny. I think Lancelot probably varies the most, and that’s because his role, in Merlin’s life and in the fic as a whole, can be drastically different fic to fic. He can either be the Teasing Best Friend, the Worried Older Brother, the Partner, or just Part of The Gang. It is fun, writing them all and trying to force in my own ideas and headcanons about the characters whilst also making sure it fits the fic, and fits at least adjacently with canon.

I adore Gwen, and she’s almost always Merlin’s best friend in some manner in my fics. I like giving her and Merlin moments of just... bestie energy, with no one else there and nothing to disturb them. But I also like making her smart as hell and badass, and just... emotionally intelligent, more-so than basically everyone else in the show. I think in the beginning I wrote her as a bit... background-y. She was just there, crying when the fic was angsty, and smiling when the fic was happy. I want her to be important and, if not in the forefront of the whole fic, at least have a few lines/chapters which are just about her to give the fic some depth/emotional grabbyness, if that makes sense.

~

ANYWAY I love you and I loved these questions and let me know if you want to know anything else!!!

You can ask from This List of Questions, or ask your own!!

[chenziee]

The power of a Revolutionary Army top executive

@lawluevents 10 Days of Lawlu 2022 Day 7: Free day

 Alternate summary: you know you just cannot win against a drag queen, Shachi, come on

Alternate summary 2: what happens when you recycle ideas you had at 2am half a year ago

[ READ ON AO3 |  FULL SERIES | KO-FI ]

----------

Seeing the war between the Navy and the Whitebeard pirates very up close and personal wasn't really a choice Shachi would have made by himself. However, when your pirate captain gives the order, you follow, and Shachi had never seen a reason to argue with Law.

Not until now at least.

But how do you walk up to a man and tell him, "Hey, I don't think risking your entire crew's lives because of this cute guy you met a week ago for a grand total of ten minutes is really smart?" Shachi didn't know and he sure as hell didn't want to try and figure it out either.

Not when Law had that determined look on his face, a look Shachi had seen only twice before. First, when he had announced he was forming the Heart Pirates. Second, when he decided it was time to enter the Grand Line.

He was going to go, with or without Shachi, and like hell was Shachi letting him do this alone.

And so, the whole crew had found themselves running away from rapidly growing icebergs and unrelentless beams of light, diving deeper, deeper,      deeper,     just to survive while the Captain was busy saving the lives of people that had no real connection to him. Because 'he felt like it.'

Ever since they had left Sabaody Archipelago, the crew had been whispering; speculating, asking questions, wondering. Why? Why were they doing this? For what purpose? Not questioning the Captain's decision but simply curious.

And then there was Shachi, exchanging knowing, gloomy looks with Penguin.

In this case, he honestly might have preferred being as clueless as the others.

----------

It felt like an eternity until the Heart Pirates finally felt safe enough to surface once more. No one was happier about it than Bepo but even Shachi had to admit the fresh air felt great—if it didn’t come with the fucking navy battle ship right in their faces.

That alone took away about eight years of his lifespan.

But seeing Boa Hancock, the Pirate Empress, the most beautiful woman in the world, stepping onto their deck, blessing their measly little submarine with her dazzling presence, beauty, and charisma, well… that alone added about sixteen years of his life back. He would absolutely take this deal again.

Ah, if only he could take Bepo’s place and be her personal servant… Or better yet, Straw Hat’s place and have her worry about him like this.

The pirate was so damn lucky.

Suddenly, Shachi was ripped away from his fantasy by words spoken by the… person whose presence Shachi had been trying to ignore.

“By the way, who are you? Straw Hat boy’s friend?”

Shachi did a double take at Ivankov’s question. What was this, a woman’s—Drag Queen’s—intuition? He hadn’t even seen Law and Straw Hat interact. He hadn’t been subjected to that sorry excuse for flirting that they had going on since Law’s first ‘Straw Hat-ya’ and yet, he still knew they were one unsupervised moment away from kissing each other stupid—

“Please tell me you misheard him say ‘Straw Hat’s boyfriend’ too and it’s not just me,” Penguin whispered into his ear, begging.

Shachi startled, blinking once, twice, before he realised what Ivankov had actually said. Way to make it sound misleading. Heaving a deep sigh, Shachi’s shoulders sagged as he nodded. “Sure did.”

The two of them looked at each other, two identical, tired gazes meeting before they simultaneously turned to look at their idiot Captain, both having the sense of absolute and utter defeat descend upon them.

And really, how could they not feel completely resigned? Looking at Law, seeing him all fidgety and glancing at the door leading into the Tang every few seconds like he was dying to go back even while in the middle of a conversation with Boa Hancock, Emporio Ivankov, and Knight of the Sea Jinbe—in other words, three insanely powerful and scary people—and well…

They were fucked.  

Law was admittedly the one who was the most fucked out of all of them but the rest of the Hearts were still doomed to getting dragged into this thing that Law and Straw Hat had going on anyway by simple association.

As soon a Law disappeared back inside, a large shadow appeared right behind Shachi and Penguin. Slowly, Shachi turned his head around to look, only to come into an uncomfortably close contact with a huge face covered by a thick layer of make up, impossibly long and thick eyelashes, and a toothy smile so wide it made Shachi’s cheeks hurt just looking at it. Seriously, did this guy—was it even right to call him that?—ever close his mouth fully or did he just walk around with his teeth exposed 24/7?

Shachi wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to that.

"I saw you exchanging that look earlier,” Ivankov said slowly with his strange intonation and, even though his smile didn’t falter at all, Shachi had never felt quite so intimidated in his life. “Tell me, why did Doctor boy save Straw Hat boy?"

For a moment, no one moved. Shachi and Penguin just stared up and Ivankov’s face hovering above them, making it obvious he wasn’t about to let them get away. But that didn’t mean they shouldn’t at least try… right?

“Why—” Shachi gulped before attempting to speak again. “Why should we tell you?”

Ivankov raised an eyebrow, regarding Shachi with a critical look before replying, "Because! I need to know if I can trust him with the boy's life!" he said, his voice unyielding as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Shachi and Penguin exchanged a look. Shachi had hoped Penguin would have an idea on how to get the hell out of this... situation but he could see it in his eyes that his partner was exactly as clueless as Shachi himself.

Well.

This didn’t look very good.

Quickly glancing around himself, Shachi tried to look for a way out—a door, a mouse hole, a person to save him. But there was nothing. Nothing but the Pirate Empress peeking shyly inside the the Tang and mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like ‘Luffy,’ Jinbe sitting on the deck looking like he was about to fall asleep, and Bepo who was actually asleep, enjoying the breeze.

In other words… there was no escape.

Shachi took a step back. “Uhm,” he could barely let out, looking anywhere but Ivankov’s face.

“Well,” Penguin said, his voice weak and uncertain as he mirrored Shachi’s attempt at retreat.

“Come on!” Ivankov insisted, quickly filling up the space the two Hearts had managed to put between them by merely tilting his giant head.

“We can’t!” Shachi said, trying to keep his voice steady and firm. He wasn’t sure if he had succeeded—especially not with the four quick steps back he took.

“It’s not our place to tell you!” Penguin joined in.

Three more steps back.

“Tell me!”  

Two more steps—

Shachi’s back hit something.

He cursed internally, pushing his back against the Tang’s wall as he tried to get as far away as he could, possibly far enough to phase through the metal and disappear inside the sub.

“Hm?” Ivankov drew out, his face getting closer… closer…

Bigger?  

Shachi’s eyes widened so much that he wouldn’t have been surprised if they just fell out of their sockets. He could only stare as the Drag Queen stabbed himself in his face, glowering down at him and Penguin from further and further up as his already huge face inflated more and more and more.  

Shachi couldn’t do it.

“Captain! Save me!” Shachi screamed, not even trying to hide how terrified he was anymore.

“He’s not going to help us,” Penguin piped up, voice so weak that Shachi could barely hear him from where he stood right next to him. “He’s too busy with Straw Hat.”

“Shit,” Shachi cursed as he closed his eyes and prayed for a miracle.

A gust of wind blew past Shachi then and he dared to peek through his lids… only to regret every life decision that had led to him ever bearing witness to the Queen of Drag Queens, head half the size of the entire Polar Tang, twirling in place at great speed, before he suddenly stopped, striking a pose with a deafening cry of ‘WAAHOO!’  

It was such a bizarre sight that for a second, Shachi had thought, oh, just a dream…  

But his mind could never—never—come up with this. Which meant it was real, which meant the cold grin and impossibly giant eyes that were now inches away from his face were real, too.

And then…

Shachi screamed.

"Ahhh I give! I give!! We'll tell you, just stop please!"

"For the love of god, don't tell him we said anything!” Penguin yelled right along with him, waving his arms in front of himself to try and keep a semblance of personal space.

Ivankov hummed, nodding at them both in approval. “You’re doing great, Candies. Go on, don’t be shy!”

Shachi took a deep but shaky breath.

He felt Penguin tense next to him, knowing what Shachi was about to do.

And Shachi simply closed his eyes, mulling the words over in his mouth; he felt like he was preparing for death instead of saying a few simple words. Just stating out loud what anyone could see if they spent two minutes with Law and Straw Hat in the same room…

Fuck it. "The Captain’s got a crush," he muttered quietly.

One could hear a hair falling in the silence that had settled over the deck at his words. It was like the sea itself was dreading what was to come, a retribution in the form of an absolutely livid Law or maybe a lightning striking from the cloudless blue skies above.

Yet, nothing came, no matter how long he waited.

“Ohohoho…" the sound of Ivankov’s quiet, impressed chuckle was the first sound that Shachi had noticed.

Cracking one eye open after what felt like an eternity, Shachi was relieved to see Ivankov’s face back to its usual size, the ever-present grin having turned to something calmer, more thoughtful as the Queen studied Shachi’s expressions and body language.

And then he finally nodded, seemingly reaching a satisfying conclusion in his mind as he turned around, thanking Shachi and Penguin before strutting away.

Immediately, Shachi’s knees gave in and he slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, completely lifeless; at least Penguin was in exactly the same boat, right next to him on the floor.

“So this is the power of a Revolutionary Army top executive,” Penguin muttered after a while.

Before Shachi could muster the strength to say anything, a deep calm voice spoke up instead. “I’m pretty sure that’s just Ivankov.”

Shachi heaved a sigh at Jinbe’s words. The man was right. But putting it like that didn’t make Shachi feel any better about spilling one of his best friends’ secret like that.

----------

Law rubbed at his eyes. Not only was he in a sore need of a nap after spending the whole night on Straw Hat’s and Jinbe’s operations, now he couldn’t even enjoy his damn coffee in peace.

“Hey, Doctor boy,” Ivankov said, sliding into the chair opposite of him in the kitchen.

Who had even let him inside? Law was going to have a word with them. He didn’t even bother to reply; he simply stared back at the Drag Queen impassively for a moment before sighing and turning his attention back to his steaming cup of coffee, completely ignoring him.

Ivankov seemed unphased, however. “Wanna come with us to Kamabakka after Straw Hat boy recovers? We can teach you a lot!”

Blinking once, twice… Law tried to process whatever the hell the idiot had just said.

But, meeting Ivankov’s eager eyes, seeing his suggestive wink… Law felt a chill run up his spine. Now he was positive he didn’t even want to know.

Without a word, Law picked up his coffee and left the kitchen, heading right back to the OR. He needed to check on Straw Hat—it was nothing short of a miracle that he had survived the operation in the first place, he was most certainly not out of danger. He needed to be there in case something went to shit.

Law shook his head, chasing all thoughts of that possibility away. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to imagine a world where he would never be able to watch this reckless idiot punching a Celestial Dragon again.

Or be able to see his bright, carefree smile, or the warm spark of quiet determination in his eyes.

No; that wasn’t the reason. He was simply going there to check his vitals because he had a lot of pride invested in that half-dead body, as a surgeon. Nothing more.

Or to be precise—as he slammed the door to the OR closed behind himself, finally shutting out Ivankov’s giggling, he reminded himself; if nothing else, in his current state, Straw Hat certainly wasn’t going look at him like he was waiting for the first opportunity to put him in drag.

----------

~ one unsupervised moment later ~