#his mantle so green au

[mint-yooxgi]

Kinktober Day 1 - Yandere!Dragon!Mingi + Somnophilia

Anonymous Said: ooooh for kinktober: consensual somno with mingi and au of your pick!! A/n: I picked dragon cause Dragon!Mingi is just 🤤 Hope you like it! Hehehe Warnings/Genre/Rating: 18+ MDNI - Smut, Mature, Established Relationship, Yandere, Possession, Monster Features Word Count: 1,482 Kinktober 2024 Mini Masterlist

The cool mist of the morning hills rolls over the tops of the trees, blanketing the surrounding forests in a thick grey hue. The mountains stand tall, looming over the surrounding greenery, blanketed in fog. A breeze drifts by, the nightly chill still clinging to the air and making its way inside of his cave.

Mingi shifts closer to you. His arms, which have been wrapped around your waist all night, tighten even so gently. The small shiver that involuntarily caresses your spine while in the midst of slumber has him tugging you in closer to his chest. The dying embers in the mantle might not be able to keep you warm, but he certainly can.

Large green wings uncurl behind his back, gently draping the leathery material over you. A smooth, thick tail slithers out, wrapping carefully around your thighs.

He pulls you even closer, a content rumble escaping his chest. The tip of his tail gently flicks against your upper thighs, careful not to wake you, but instead lull you deeper into sleep’s comforting embrace. Mingi wants you to know that even in your dreams, he will always be there to protect you, to provide for and cherish you like you’ve always deserved.

The way your bare skin feels pressed against his has his cock twitching, recalling the strenuous events of the previous evening. Finally, he got to claim you as his own. The start of many, many more matings to come.

Your back is pressed firmly to his chest, warmth radiating from within. The way you practically melt into him has another pleased rumble escaping him, especially as you shift your ass back slightly, pressing right up against him.

Ever so softly, Mingi begins to trace his hand along your side. He leans into you, nosing along your pulse and breathing you in deeply. The fact that he can still smell himself all over you, and you all over him has his tail flicking in content.

Slowly, he wraps his tail around your one thigh, tightening his wings over you both as he shifts slightly. His one hand begins tracing lightly over your stomach, his claws coming out to dance over your skin. The other continues to slip upwards, caressing your body delicately and admiring every curve.

Gentle kisses are pressed against your pulse as his one hand comes up to cup your breast. Teasingly, his fingers trace over your nipple, cupping your breast in the next moment as a low growl escapes his throat.

A small whine escapes you, turning yourself so that you’re pressed against him more firmly in your sleep. A fact of which that only makes him hum, lips curling upwards against your skin.

A soft groan escapes him as he feels the weight of your breast in his hand. Gently, his fingers knead the tender flesh as his opposite hand begins creeping closer and closer towards the heat radiating from between your legs.

His tail tightens around your thigh.

Dipping his hand between your thighs, Mingi carefully cups your mound. Not even a moment later, he’s trailing his fingers through your folds, moaning at the wetness he can feel coating his skin. 

His hips roll against your ass, hand squeezing your breast as he drags his fingers upwards in search of your clit. As soon as he feels that swollen little nub against the tips of his fingers, he begins circling it gently.

Your lips part in a low moan, breathing deepening slightly. Yet still, your eyes remain closed, even as Mingi’s tongue comes out to flick over your skin.

He adds more pressure over your clit, his tail spreading your thighs even further apart for him.

Soft groans begin to escape you, eyes flitting beneath your eyelids as your hips begin to grind back against him. A moment later, your lashes are fluttering, blinking the sleep from your eyes as you feel him insert two fingers into your tight cunt.

“Good morning, Princess,” Mingi’s deep, growly voice rumbles out right beside your ear.

All you can offer him in response is a low moan, head tilting back as his fingers begin massaging your inner walls. His thumb finds your clit, circling gently as he nuzzles his face into your neck.

“Did you sleep well?” He hums, nipping at your pulse.

You hum in response, one hand coming up to cover his over your breast while the other reaches to tangle in his hair. You hold him to you, revelling in his touch at such an early hour.

Neither of you would have it any other way.

Purposely, you clench around his fingers, eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure threatens to consume you at any moment. You can tell you’re still so sensitive from last night, and every touch he gives you sets a fire beneath your skin. That all too familiar pressure begins building in the pit of your stomach, hips jolting with each flick over your clit.

“Will you come for me, Princess?” He coos, fangs teasing at the shell of your ear. “Come all over my fingers like you came all over my cock last night?”

“Yes-“ your breath hitches lightly in your throat, fingers tightening in his hair. The fact that you can feel his fangs teasing over the claim he gave you only sets your heart thundering inside of your chest. “Anything. I’ll give you anything.”

A pleased snarl escapes him, his fingers working desperately to bring you over the edge just as he did last night. His wings twitch, the translucent skin casting a light green hue over you both. Firmly, he squeezes your breast once more, his fingers rolling your nipple gently between them.

“Good girl.”

The moment he says those words, and with one final flick over your clit, your eyes are rolling into the back of your head. Your lips part in a silent moan as your orgasm washes over you, body trembling in his hold.

His fingers never still in you for one moment, helping you through your high and making it last for as long as he possibly can. His fangs latch on to the side of your neck, directly over that same claiming bite he gave you last night. Not enough to break the skin, but enough so that you can feel the desperation behind the gesture. 

A deep rumble builds in his chest, his eyes flashing with silver slits as he presses himself impossibly closer to you, holding you close and refusing to let you go.

“That’s it, Princess,” his low voice rumbles out, lips pressing kisses against your neck. “You’re mine.”

“All yours, Mingi,” you sigh blissfully, clenching around his fingers as they gently slow within you. “All yours.”

The smile that pulls at his lips can be felt against your skin, his tongue coming out to lave once more against your pulse.

“I love you, My Destiny.” Mingi nuzzles you gently, loosening his hold over you slowly.

“As I love you, My Scaly Lizard Man.” You giggle, turning to smile at him from over your shoulder.

A blink, and you find yourself pinned beneath a growling dragon. His bright green wings flare out behind him, tail flicking out behind him in the air. 

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that.” 

His hands pin your wrists in place beside your head, and you can feel the weight of his cock resting on your upper thigh. A fact of which that makes you shiver in bliss. Or perhaps it’s just because of the cool morning air hitting your naked skin.

“But then, what else am I supposed to call you?” The corner of your lips quirks upwards teasingly.

Another low growl escapes him, pressing his hips firmly against your own, pinning you fully beneath him.

“I can think of a few things,” he hums, a devilish grin stretching across his features. “Names which you were screaming for me last night.”

You cannot help it. The way his eyes flash hungrily, combined with the low drawl of his voice has you clenching around nothing. You can practically feel yourself dripping from the mere mention of last night, not to mention what he’s already done to you this morning.

“What are you going to do about it, then?” Your reply is a bit breathless, heart fluttering in anticipation.

Mingi’s wings twitch, his tail lovingly caressing the side of your leg as he slowly shifts down your body. His dark gaze never leaves yours for a second as he settles himself between your thighs, his hands coming up to gently tease his claws over your skin.

“You know, Princess… you should never let a dragon go hungry.” He begins, brushing his nose over your inner thigh and inhaling deeply. His pupils form into slits, eyes flashing that beautiful silver once more. “Which is why I’ll be having my breakfast in bed.”

[tadc-harlequin-au]

Harlequin AU - "Stalemate" (canon, fic)

This is a wip art! It will be updated in the future.

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One step.

Leather shoes made their way on uneven grounds.

The crinkling of glass underneath the soles made their way prominent to the stepper’s ears, but she couldn’t care less.

This was the last known location of the man she’d been tracking for a while now. And this is the moment of truth. Did she still got it? Or will she fall as a trophy on a mantle?

Time to find out.

Squeaks of a rusty metal gate aired out into the open, gathering the attention of a few unwanted pests. But in quick succession, they were no more, swiftly falling prey to the sharp blade of the Puppet. There was not even a chance for them to strike.

Satisfied with her work, she straddles into the grounds of the mansion. First, the gardens.

One could say it was a serene scene, but for her it was a mere distraction. Unimportant. Simply delaying the inevitable.

She steps out into the lush open grass of the area. A huge empty space filled with nothing but prickly green underneath the blue hues of the night. She found amusement in the fact that there’s a chance she can ruin this place once she meets her opponent.

A lone, mossy fountain sat on the front. Not interesting.

She makes her way onto the stairs of the mansion entrance. Each step fills her with more vigor, excitement coursing through her being. The giant, elegant oak door groaned in protest as she pushed it open.

Empty.

No matter, there were many rooms.

She quickly hears the puttering sound of rotor blades spinning, and she looks to her right, finding a mini-blimp with a literal sharp smile, and a vacant expression on it’s glossy eyes.

“Hellloooooo,” it said, dragging the last syllable playfully, “Can I help you with anything?” The blimp asked with not a care in the world.

“I’m looking for someone.” The Puppet claims, pulling out a parchment of a wanted poster. It was useless to waste her energy on this… creature. So she will entertain it’s questions for now.

“Oh! You’re looking for the boss! I’ll lead you to him!” The blimp confirms her suspicions.

He was in this place, and she’d successfully tracked her target down. Now all that was needed was proof of her soon-to-be victory. It was only by a few rooms that she’d found him.

But the sight wasn’t as grand as she envisioned.

She expected a confident, prideful, and powerful fighter….

NOT whatever this mess who’s currently laying on the ground and leaning deactivated against an office desk was. WHAT THE FUCK.

Did she seriously come all this way for nothing?! She felt a little furious, and she redirected her burning gaze onto the blimp, grasping tightly onto the sword and pointing it’s sharp end with malice. The Blimp did not seem to react at her wordless threat at all, still flashing a sharp smile as it slowly turned to face her.

“EXPLAIN.” She demanded. “HE CAN’T BE ALREADY DEACTIVATED.”

“Oh, this is just something that happens allllll the time. Give him a little time.” The Blimp answered, and turned it’s attention back to 'the boss'. She kicked a leg, no response.

“Let me try!” The Blimp says, and with a clearing of it’s throat, it shouts. “BOSS! Someone’s here to see you!”

And in an instant, the exposed chest of the man lit up in two separate hues, and he sits up straight as if plunged underwater for long.

“GAH! WHA- WHO IS IT!” He yelps in surprise, holding a glass bottle by it’s neck as if ready to throw. His shocked gaze soon falls on…. To the Harlequin, who unveils her tattered covers protecting her from outside elements, and reveals her face.

“Puppetmaster. I’ve come to challenge you.”

He blinks a couple of times with wide eyes, and his stare keeps shifting from the blimp, to her, and then repeat. After a while, his gaze falters and an unimpressed groan escapes the strange Puppet across from her. “Not again…” He mutters under his breath. "Bubble, what did I tell you about letting people you don't know in?"

...Not again?

“Wh- What do you mean “not again”- This is the FIRST time I’ve come here!” She replied, and the Puppetmaster only crosses his arms as soon as he manages to get up on two feet.

“And it certainly won’t be the LAST, I see.” He shuffles away, the metal cane tapping to the marble ground with each step he took, and the Harlequin is left utterly confused. She grumpily follows him to the main lounge, ready to demand once more.

“Are you fucking deaf or what? I said I’ve come to challenge you!”

“Not interested.” He feels around in a bookshelf, pulling out a rather large tome. He opens it and retrieves a bottle full of liquid.

He was really testing her patience, huh?

As soon as he turns around, The Harlequin makes quick work of slicing the bottle in half just to show how serious she is. The glass quickly detaches, and the liquid spills onto the floor, leaving the Puppetmaster with an unamused, disappointed stare.

“.... That was the last of it’s kind, by the way. You just killed off one of my favorite drinks” He replies with a hint of unserious humor, and it makes her teeth grit in frustration.

“I AM NOT LEAVING THIS PLACE UNTIL I GET WHAT I FUCKING CAME FOR!” She angrily responds. “So you either stop with your shit and fight me, OR ELSE.” She points the sword straight at his core, and the pair of dentures simply rolls his eye to the side, and pushes the blade away.

“Hmm. You know, for a moment, I really thought you were different.” He drops to the floor and detaches a tile after tapping at a seemingly hollow tile with the cane, revealing yet another hidden compartment full of unknown bottles. He sticks his tongue out a little as he reaches for them, but as soon as one was retrieved, The Harlequin repeats the same action as before, as well as shattering the other bottles within.

He blinks once, then twice. “Can you stop wasting the only thing that’s keeping me from jumping off of the deep end, pretty please?” He pleads, but it’s completely devoid of sincerity.

She growls, and grabs his collar. He is slightly surprised, but quickly goes back to his uncaring attitude while staring at her grip. “Umm… Normally I would not mind the touch, but you’re wrinkling my shirt.” His carefree attitude was picking at her nerves, and she bares her sharp teeth at him. His eyes widen a little, but it’s clearly not from fear.

He shakes it off, and squints at her humorlessly, unfazed by the threat.

“I am not repeating myself again, Puppetmaster. FIGHT. ME.” There’s a surprising yet subtle hint of desperation in her tone, but it was heavily masked by her aggressive tone and he finds himself disgruntled at his own thoughts.

He sighs.

“I don’t see a point in accepting that offer from a rookie like you, who doesn’t seem to know what fights they wanna pick… But fine.” He relents, “I’ll entertain you a little. I’d rather not cause more mess than usual for my little helper, though. All I ask is that we pick a different location.”

She was a little insulted at the term he had called her. But she swallowed her pride down in favor of the fact that he was finally agreeing to the duel. “Very well then.” She lets go of the collar. “I’m fine with any location of your choosing.”

“Much appreciated, dear. I know an abandoned circus arena that is ideal for this.” He taps his cane to the ground, in contemplation.

“In fact… I think you might like it as much as I do.”

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It wasn’t the walk towards this “arena” that was agonizing.

But rather the wait she had to comply with if she wanted his participation. Nonetheless, he parts the curtains that cover the entrance, but she only crosses her arms and taps her foot. She was antsy, and his stare was questioning.

“You… won’t go first?”

“Why would I? You’re leading the way.” She replies in clear annoyance.

His gaze shifts to the entrance, trying not to be bothered about this as he makes his way inside. As soon as the Harlequin makes her way inside, spotlights let out a loud click as they all simultaneously turn on, all shining at the sand-filled arena slightly damaged by time… or something else entirely.

There’s a little prickling feeling that settles in her chest, and she can sense her core thrum in dissonance. But she doesn’t understand it, so naturally, she shrugs it off as if it never existed.

The Puppetmaster has had his back turned against her all this time. His head hung low, as if staring into the very ground. But she simply clutches at her sword with her left arm, the grip making a loud metallic clunk. He taps his cane to the ground, and it echoes throughout the tent despite the consistency of the very plane they stand on.

“Are you ready?” His voice, despite them being meters apart, is loud, bold and clear.

She grips her sword harder, unsheathing a little. Her right feet drags across the ground, an obvious stance of preparation before the action.

His eyes are hidden, depriving her of reading his full intent once he turns to face his opponent. Nonetheless, she squints, wordlessly giving him her answer.

The cane taps onto the ground yet again, and she rushes like a cobra. There’s a faint hum of voices in the background but she can’t decipher it.

Distractions.

That was all it is.

And a fighter does NOT get distracted.

She unsheathes the sword fully, ready to lunge as soon as she was close enough. A battle cry escapes her as she swings at the sudden cloud of dust that appeared in front of her.

“Slow.”

He easily avoids the swing, and she barely has a second to react at the speed of his movements, finding herself stumbling. Utterly confused, she quickly turns around to face where he had gone. He was now in the middle of the arena, side-eyeing her with interest that she interprets as complete mockery. 

She clutches the sword with both hands and another battle scream erupts from her. He grips at his cane harder, eyes once more hidden as his jaws snap shut in focus. She leaps into the air to bring down a hard slash, but his cane blocks her attempt, and it results in sparks flying from the exertion of force between both parties.

The Puppetmaster quickly ends this standstill by pushing her back, making her feet drag across the ground from the force by a mile.

“...Yet adept form.” He comments, squinting his eyes at her.

She wipes away at her face, just in case. Her posture straightens in confusion, but it is quickly taken over by anger. “YOU ASSHAT, STOP OBSERVING ME AND FIGHT!” a complain, but her expression changes to confusion once more as he disappears in a cloud of dust from her sight.

Where the FUCK did he go NOW?!

His form appears out of nowhere. Looming over. His eyes are devoid of pupils, and for a moment, she finds herself stuttering.

“H-HOLD ON W-WA-WAIT JUST A SECOND!”

There was no time for waiting in a duel of course, but it slipped from her mouth before she could even think about it fully. She could only assume that he was disorienting her, and it was working effectively.

His cane twirls on his hand, and he uses the other end of the metal rod to push her to bend backwards, just to avoid the flaring poke of electricity surging through the cane. There was no time for the Harlequin to get back up, and she cursed herself for making rookie mistakes, and proving his words right.

What was wrong with her today, of all days?

He sweeps her legs, knocking her off-balance down to the ground, but her athletic build allowed for a very quick recovery, and she was back to steadying her stance again.

“Fascinating. What an impressive reflex. You have a fast recovery.” 

The Puppetmaster seems to be taking notes of her actions, and it was then that she realizes he was simply toying with her.

“Maybe this could work… Hm.”

Her sword drops to the ground a loud clank, which forces his gaze to look up at her. But it was too late.

A very hard kick met his face and he barely had the reaction time for it. He could feel the blow produce a gust of wind as he flew to the old safety bleachers (much to it’s destruction), and a loud crack permeated the air as one of his teeth flew off and broke in half.

A heavy cloud of yellow dust hid him from the view of the fuming Harlequin.

He rises up, seemingly unaffected until he reaches to check at the loss of a denticle. A black substance covered his gloves’ fingertips. His gaze once more lands on the Harlequin, who is now emitting visible hot steam from her body, breathing heavily as her eyes shone brightly with the intent of murder.

“I’ve HAD it up to HERE, with your STUPID ANTICS!” She stepped a foot onto the ground, and the cement underneath the sand crumbled. The lights slowly flickered in response, and his eyes widens in alert.

Uh oh. This was not good. The fight needs to be ended as fast as possible now.

“I suppose I should’ve been paying more attention to a duel.” He clutches at his cane for support as he stands up undamaged (besides the lost tooth), but lets go of it as soon as it’s job is complete.

If she won’t possess a weapon, then it wouldn’t be right for him to possess his either.

Both of them rushed at each other in high feats of speed, and a small crater was created as a proof of the intensity of the hit. When the Harlequin would deliver a punch, a dense gust of wind would be produced as the Puppetmaster blocked each time.

There was now more steam emitting from her body, and the clock was ticking. He had no choice.

With a revenge kick to her torso that she blocks with both arms, he sends her flying to where she had previously dropped her sword, as he rushes to his own “weapon” of choice too. 

She grabbed at the sword and rushed.

He grabbed his cane and did the same.

The speed executed between both parties was unmatched, and a heavy cloud was produced for the last time in the middle of the arena as both fighters collided their weapons.

Their gazes were intense, the Harlequin smiling when she pointed her sword directly at his core. But the blue light emitting from the Puppetmaster’s cane made her look down to where it was pointed.

It was also at her core.

Satisfied with the way the Harlequin stopped fighting out of slight confusion, he opts to explain the current situation.

“Now, you can pry open my core and deactivate me just as easily,” he starts. “... But if you so much as move the required centimeter to do so, the tip of my cane will touch your core which will shock your heart with the amount of electricity that can power 5 large cities.”

Her eyes widened.

“We’re both made of metal. How the fuck are you going to defend yourself from this?!”

“I won’t.”

It was a simple statement that made the Harlequin realize what he’s doing. “Do you have a shitty death wish or something? That’s crazy! There’s no way you can produce that much charge either, you’re just fucking bluffing!”

“Am I, now?” There was not a hint of humor nor sarcasm in his tone. He was dead serious.

She couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t fucking believe it.

“We’re at a stalemate, dear.” She gripped the handle of her sword with much intensity, baring her teeth in frustration and denial.

“This fight is over.” He proclaims no winners, and the Harlequin begins to kick the remaining sand in the arena all around, throwing a temper tantrum.

“NO!” She shouted while gripping at her head, uncaring of the noise. “NO, NO, NO! THIS WASN’T SUPPOSED TO END THIS WAY! YOU CHEATED YOUR WAY OUT OF THIS, YOU-” Her joints stopped responding to her actions, and she finds herself kneeling onto the ground. Horror filled her entire system as she tried to decipher what’s happening, but before she knew it, All she could see now was the tattered, faded yellow-red stripes of the tent ceiling.

And then the view of his stupid dentures face came into her sight, and he was back to observing her again.

“You’re still functional, are you?”

“UNFORTUNATELY.” She grit her teeth.

“Hm.” An acknowledgement.

She could hear the way he takes a seat onto the ground beside her.

“You’re quite an odd one.”

“CAN YOU STOP TALKING.”

“Hm….” He contemplates. “No, I don’t think I will~.” There’s a smug pitch in his tone (that would’ve made a vein pop somewhere in her head if she was organic). “You’re the first sane Puppet I’ve talked to in a long while.”

… Was this somehow some kind of cruel punishment?

“Just let your body cool down and re-adjust for now. You really pushed yourself back there.” She couldn’t exactly tell what he was doing, but if the slightly muffled way of speaking was any indication, she could only assume he was checking his now missing tooth.

But that wasn’t what grabbed the Harlequin’s attention. Rather, she was slightly intrigued about how he knows what’s happened to her, when she didn’t.

“What are you even talking about? What’s happened to me?” She asked, temper slowly subsiding, although irritation was still present.

“What’s happened is that you accidentally began to overcharge yourself.” He was more than glad to explain. “Your body couldn’t keep up with the amount of energy spent, and now here you are, lying down on the ground.” He taps at the sand above her head with the golden sphere of his cane. “You also nearly overheated that you could’ve exploded your core. But you can’t feel that, can you?”

She sighs. “Of course I fucking don’t. I’m a Puppet. I don’t feel things, I just do things. At least that’s what I think I should be doing.”

There was a moment of silence between them, one that the Harlequin was more than glad to have. But almost as if being mocked by timing, this quiet was broken by the voice of Puppetmaster once more.

“What’s your directive.”

“Fight SOMETHING, I guess.”

“No.”

“What?”

“Tell me your FULL directive. I don’t want a summarized version.”

She sighs again. “FIND— FIGHT— PROTECT—- CITY—- FROM HARM.” There was a slight pause and a bit of glitching in her voice when she recited the blanks.

“…Well, I must say, this is quite the predicament.”

“Can you stop being so fucking cryptic and just tell me?!”

“... You’re broken.”

“EXCUSE ME?”

“An incomplete line of command. It’s making you act on your own." He explains. "For shorter terms, you’re a loose cannon.” He mutters something else under his breath that the Harlequin couldn’t hear, and for a moment, there’s an unreadable tone with his delivery that she can’t decipher.

“Wha… what the hell does any of that mumbo jumbo even mean…” She would drag her hand across her face if she could right about now.

“Say, how would you feel about an alliance?”

“I feel like punching another one of your teeth out, that’s for sure.”

“I’m flattered, but also serious. You and I are quite possibly the only Puppets left sane here in this world. And I have an idea that I can only really do with YOUR help.”

“I’m not fucking interested in your passion project.”

“Your purpose seems to say otherwise.”

Her brow creases. “What, are you gonna say it involves fighting something?”

“Not just that. It’s also to protect this city from further harm.” Now that got her attention. She’s cautious, but in all honesty, also intrigued.

“We can discuss this even further once you’re all good to go. But for now…” He trails off as he stands up, and she can finally move a little bit of her joints on her fingers. Her body was seemingly cooling down to allow slight movements again.

“My name is Caine. Do you have a name?” For a moment, she senses a foreign bit of deja vu.

“... Just the code on my shoulder.”

“What is it?”

“P-1210.”

“Well, I can’t be calling you that. How about a proper one?”

“Whatever knocks your socks off, I guess.”

“ ‘Pomni’. What about ‘Pomni’. ”

There’s a response at her core that she couldn’t fully understand. But it seems that it wants her to agree.

“... Sure, I-I…I guess.”

“Pomni it is.”

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

upon his grace 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, bullying, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are called to court after the end of the civil war, but find yourself facing many challenges, expected and not. (fantasy medieval au)

Characters: king!Steve Rogers

Note: bro, Idk how I start at point A and get to fucking outer space. Also happy bday to Steverino.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The gardens of Astra Castle are unlike any you’ve seen before. Certainly, you’ve never been to a royal castle previously. Your father’s own hold is modest, still bearing the wooden foundation, whereas the rich lords have poured mortar and built in stone. 

So, it is a great honour to be among the noble women chosen to serve the queen. Most unexpected. As a daughter of a lower house, it is rather unusual, but it comes with the newly set writ tabled at the end of the uprising. That is how your father tells it anyhow. 

King Steven is as newly crowned as he is newlywed. After a lengthy revolt against the previous king, the land has settled, and upon his victory, the new ruler promises the expansion of prosperity to all. The very precedence of his war rested on the greed of the former court and its covetous lords. 

To those who took up his mantle, he has made good his word. To the commoners, he has sent bread and ale, livestock and alms; to the nobles, he has granted titles and lands. You were of the same doubt as your father, however, you expected to be forgotten in the disarray. 

Yet, you were not. You’re there with several other ladies. A set of blond twins borne of a duke and duchess, the sole heir of a widowed countess, and several earl’s daughters such as yourself. Unlike them, you do not wear satin or silk, not muslin either. You have only the dyed linen your mother attempted to enhance with some embroidery around the cuffs and collar. 

“Marcia and Marigold,” the twins introduce themselves as you cluster together in the gardens, grooms and servants bustling around carriages and chests. “Lady Calliope,” they call out the countess��� daughter, “we met prior, yes? Your mother is near Estrela.” 

“She is,” Calliope answers in her stern manner, herself seeming a widow in her black dress. The shimmery fabric makes up for its single tone. 

“Ameri, Dorida, and... Selene,” they point to the other girls, themselves clothed in scarlet, rose, and azure respectively. “We know the earls, your fathers. They gathered at our father’s hold for the battle near Caffre.” 

The twins take turns speak so that sometimes you cannot track whose lips are moving. It is even that they trade off in the middle of sentences. You find yourself almost as lost by their words as your new surroundings. 

“And you...” The twins turn their jade eyes upon you. It is there you have found the only difference in them; they have the same heights, the same hair, the same gowns even, but there is a sliver of grey through Marcia’s green iris. “We haven’t figured who you are.” 

“My father is an earl. In Woodsdam.” 

“Woodsdam,” they echo in unison and share a look. They are perplexed. 

“A minor house,” Calliope provides. “a farmer more than a noble, if I’m not mistaken.” 

“We have vast lands and we tend to them, yes,” you assure. You expect their condescension. Your father warned you for it but he bid that you keep your chin up. The king has given him a mission of his own and so you will represent the family for the time. “We keep our people well and we fed the king’s troops when they marched." 

“Mm, sounds very... common,” Marigold grins and her sister snorts into her hand. 

“We know many lords like us, yes. They work hard amidst their vassals. It keeps the lands strong so that we may better serve the crown,” you return evenly.  

Your mother helped you prepare. She coached you to keep your manners and your spine. The latter is much more difficult as you face these ladies and their bobbles with only a ribbon in your hair and a pair of patched gloves. 

“Woodsdam? I think I rode through it once on the way to my grandfather’s summer castle,” Ameri tuts, “it was little more than a swamp.” 

“It must’ve been the spring rains, perhaps, lady,” you offer. 

“Summer house,” she enunciates, “one travels there in the summer.” 

Your cheek twitches at her barbed retort. Very well. You are not used to their sharpness. Their chittering has thus far centered on gossip and the cost of their new caps. 

“A wonder the pauper’s daughter received an invite. Are you certain you can read, lady?” Dorida snipes and looks to the twins for approval. You notice how they all tend to do so. 

“It was sent to my father, Lord Eldon,” your voice quavers. You are not so strong as your mother bid you to be.  

They cackle at your meek response, “the precious maiden of Woodsdam.” 

You put your head down as the activity all around threatens to swallow you up. You wish the ground would rent and you would fall right through. All your excitement has dissipated to a sludge in your veins. You touch your cheek as you try not to show your embarrassment. 

“The Lord of Woodsdam,” a deep voice startles you as boots approach from behind, “is that what I heard?” 

You stiffen up as the ladies before you hush and blink, almost in tandem. They curtsey as their faces wash over in shock and you turn to face the newcomer. A man in a deep blue vest over black sleeves and grey breeches. He wears belt of gold and a circlet across his brow in a similar hue. It is that which betrays his statues. 

You lower your eyes and mimic the other women, mortified to be faced with new king so informally. You would not think him wandering out in the yard. Still, he has vowed to be unlike the former leige. That he would be of the people. 

“King Steven, your majesty,” the others titter in a messy chant and you murmur your own propriety as you back away. You find yourself still to the shoulder of the king as the other ladies give no room for you to join. 

The vision of him stains your mind. He is tall, with dark blond tresses that extend past his neck, and blue eyes which put his own attire to shame. He has a jaw which looks etched in stone and a bearing which matches his rank. He is tall and broad and a finely built knight. 

“It is an honour,” Marcia says most boldly. 

“You may rise,” he allows in a breezy timbre. “I did hear my wife would receive new ladies. Young ladies.” 

“Your majesty,” the murmur rolls across each lip. 

“It is much needed. We have so many established ladies at court and yet we need to think of the future. Of the next generation,” he declares as he emphasizes his words with his large hand. You watch his garnet ring to keep from so brazenly looking him in the face. 

“Certainly, your majesty,” Marcia and Marigold chime in unision. 

“And don’t worry for there are many young lords as well,” the king laughs galely at the quip which makes the ladies, yourself included, blush. “Ah, then, Woodsdam I believe we were speaking of...” 

You blink and glance at the other ladies. They are cowed, unsure if they were overheard in their derision. You hope as much as they that they were not. It is rather unflattering. 

“My father, Lord Eldon,” you explain, “your majesty.” 

“You? You are the young lady of Woodsdam I heard so much of.” 

“You did? Er, your majesty,” you curtsey apologetically; unnecessarily. 

“Certainly, I did. Your father was a great assistance in me holding counsel with the lower lords. He is very patient. “When not about his duty, he spoke of you oft. Though what matters are more important than family?” 

“Yes, your majesty,” you can’t help a smile, “my father is a very kind man.” 

“Kind and courageous. I’m certain you’ve inherited as much,” the king praises, “and these other ladies. The twins who belong to Mawsley, the Countess of Clovers daughter, and the three earls daughters from the White Plains.” 

The ladies each bow their heads as he proclaims them by their forebearers’ titles. You watch from aside, feeling even more out-of-place. The king recites them all proudly as he extends a finger for each. 

“Allow me myself to extend a welcome to Astra. When you are sorted, my wife shall receive you all and have you acquainted with the grounds. I hope you enjoy them, we’ve had the gardeners at work day and night,” he pronounces, “for now, I must be off, for a king has many obligations and not so much time.” 

He bows and turns on his heel, marching off with his shoulder straight and head high. He walks as a soldier does, not some lord. You’ve seen the difference before, more recently in the aftermath of battle. A soldier is more akin to a farmer, much as your father, whereas a Lord tends to keep his steps tight. 

“Wow, oh my,” Dorida fans herself, “he is rather handsome.” 

“Oh yes,” Marcia and Marigold say, the latter forging ahead, “we met him at our father’s castle. He is ever so charming.” 

“Hm, and the queen would love to hear it, I’m certain,” Calliope intones brusquely. 

“The queen is not here,” Ameri sneers, “so what does it matter? Besides, is it so wrong to state a truth?” 

“He is very elegant,” Selene agrees. 

“Much too kind, as well,” Marigold snips, “Woodsdam? He speaks as if it more than some paltry farmhouse.” 

“You’d never even heard of it,” Calliope remarks. 

“And how had you, hm? You seem the bookish type. Perhaps you should leave the maps to the men. What good will a river or road do for a widow’s welp?” 

“Needn’t be cruel,” Calliope rebuffs. 

“Pity if this is the lot they send,” Marcia shakes her head as the sisters share another cryptic look. 

You keep to yourself. That is all you can do. It is better to watch and learn than to leap and land wherever you might. Your mother always said so and she was your best teacher. 

“Right, there must be some maid who might show us to our rooms,” Marigold stands on her toes and waves at each passing servant. “I tire of the sunlight and boorish company.” 

👑

You have two trunks awaiting you in your chambers. Not as the other ladies who had at least a dozen each. Less humble than your lunger are the rooms themselves.

There is an antechamber hung with tapestries showing wildlife and flora, a table set for two and cushioned bench by the window. The bedroom is draped in similar hangings with a four-post bed and a grand hearth. A desk, another bench, a woven carpet, and fine accouterments on square tables. And a closet for the commode as well and a pot in the far corner of the bedchamber. 

If only your mother and father could see this. They would be just as amazed. You can’t help but admire all of it. To touch the curtains as you approach the window and stare off at the afternoon sky. The gardens are a medley of hues; petals and thorns; leaves and dirt. It’s all so wonderful, you can still hardly believe it. 

Seems those other ladies can’t either. You can’t help but think of their words anon. They said so outrightly what you doubted inwardly. You don’t belong here. It must be so clear to them. 

You lean on the ledge and peer down into the garden pathways. It is almost a labyrinth with how intricately they’ve laid out the hedges. You lower yourself down to your elbows and cross your arms as you sigh. 

Your eyes are drawn from the swaying roses to the dark speck that appears below. You squint at first. From the second floor, it is harder to discern. It is the glimmer of gold in his hair and the defined gait that gives away the king. For an instant, you believe you might be dreaming. 

He walks along one path and to the next. There is another with him. A man with darker hair and a stauncher figure. They speak and stop just as they enter a circled walkway centered by a large vase of flowers. The other man talks, though you can hear neither, and the king rubs his chin. 

You should turn away. They might think you an eavesdropper. Oh, too late! You don’t dare move as the king tilts his head. You wouldn’t want to pique his attention. You cannot tell if he has spotted you. Not until he raises a hand and waves. The other man stops and looks to follow the gesture. 

You stand up straight but before you can flee in horror, you recall yourself. It is improper to turn your back to the king. You lift your hand and return the wave. He dips his head and turns to clap his companion’s shoulder, pointing him onward. 

Oh, you hope he is not unhappy. If you pray, perhaps he will not have recognised you. You needn’t an enemy of the king as well. 

[brucewaynehater101]

I had an idea for the AU where Tim is ruler of a dozen or so planets. As someone with an Empire that large, OA would take notice. They sent a few Green Lanturns (not any human ones) to check it out and found Tim to be an actually good ruler. He even willingly came back with them to OA without a massive vanguard (the don't know that YJ could destroy them all if they so pleased) and Tim spent nearly a week there just discussing things like trade routes and taxes on goods and which items were taxed more where and all kinds of things like that which OA normally oversees.

After the week is over, the Guardians respect Tim for being one of the nicest yet most cut throat negotiators they've ever met. First king/Emperor/ruler/whatever in centuries to not get into a screaming match with them at some point or act like a brat at all. Tim was polite and respectful the whole time, just as his mother taught him.

Tim also comes out with much better trade deals and the Guardians owning him a handful of favors by the weeks end and none of them but Tim realize just how Amazing of a deal he got.

This would be absolutely fantastic to read. I want to hc that none of the human GLs were there at the time when Tim was making all of trade deals and chatting. Perhaps they were on Earth or a far away mission. Whatever the case is, they return to OA and hear rumors about the amazing new leader for several worlds.

Identity shenanigans ensue because, after the whole BruceQuest stuff, those human GLs know Red Robin (or whatever mantle he's taken; I'm fond of "Patron" for this AU), but don't know that he's the badass ruler they were told to treat with respect or whatever (space politics?)

Then they find out that a bunch of humans moved to the worlds according the leader. The humans, though, are ex-LoA agents.

Just chaos, ig, with identity shenanigans

[starlight-eclipsed]

Rockets Pointed Up at the Stars (Pt 1/2)

Inspired by this braindead rejected soulmates au post by @im-totally-not-an-alien-2. More art at the end!

Part II

Tim slumped down on the edge of an apartment building, leaning his weight against the rooftop’s fence. The alleyways below were deserted, criminals retreating to get a couple hours of sleep before sunrise. A perfect setting to catch a breather before ending his patrol for the night.

The Red Robin suit still felt wrong on him. He thought waiting a week to get accustomed to it would help, but he might have made a mistake when he tried to adjust it to be as close to his Robin uniform as possible without it being obvious. He’d have to remember to alter it further the next time he got the chance, to see if wearing something entirely different would finally make him stop checking the shadows for Bruce. Patrolling Gotham alone felt too much like admitting he was really gone.

Just as he was about to move on, the rooftop access door slammed open.

Tim nearly jumped out of his skin as he whirled around, ready to either apologize, attack, or flee, when he met familiar glowing green eyes.

Subconsciously, he let himself breathe easy as he took in the other’s appearance.

Phantom was an anomaly at the best of times. A phantom thief by definition, the criminal had simply appeared one day to cause chaos—lingering only to taunt his pursuers as he made a daring escape with whatever priceless treasure of the month. His motives were unknown, as was virtually anything about him besides his calling card (a green sticky note with nothing but ‘BOO’ written in permanent black marker), appearance, and a meta ability to phase through objects.

Of course, one couldn’t be a phantom thief without a detective rival (or so the thief in question claimed). For some reason, Phantom had outright declared not Batman, but Robin for the role. Tim couldn’t count how many sleepless nights were spent chasing after him, face red from a mixture of exertion and embarrassment. Because it wasn’t enough for the admittedly good-looking criminal roughly his age to run circles around him. No, the jerk had to go out of his way to flirt with him the whole time.

He hadn’t even thought about how Phantom would react to there being a new Robin. But looking at him now, a small part of Tim couldn’t help but feel selfishly glad. From what he could see of the furious expression on his shadowed face and glowing eyes, it wasn’t hard to see that Phantom was taking the change about as well as Tim was.

“I leave for two weeks, and suddenly there’s a new Batman and Robin?! What the fuck, Detective—you’d think to at least have the decency to tell a guy, but nooo, I had to find out through goddamn Victor Fries!”

Tim blinked, “Didn’t Mr. Freeze retire after someone brought his wife back?”

Phantom paused his fury, shrugging a bit. “Nora keeps track of everything happening in Gotham in case something her husband did to save her comes back to bite them.”

“Huh.”

“Anyway! It took me going after Victor to ask why there was a new Robin for me to hear that the actual Batman was dead, Gotham went berserk for a while as every other guy tried to take up the position, and somewhere along the lines you got the grand idea to add ‘red’ to your name! Which makes no sense, since you practically lived for that mantle and I would’ve bet that you’d take it past the grave if given the chance.”

Tim winced. As per usual, Phantom’s words hit home in more ways than intended.

The thief stopped short, the glowing of his eyes intensifying as he looked over Tim’s new identity. Tim didn’t move as soundless footsteps strode forward, not even pausing as Phantom phased through the chain link fence to sit a couple feet away from him.

He could count on one hand the number of times Phantom had done this. One second they’d be exchanging insults, and then suddenly the criminal would stop and stare, feeling like he was gazing into the depths of Tim’s very soul. Each time, he called off their chase, insisting that Tim take a break and talk to someone about whatever was troubling him. It was uncanny how he could somehow tell when Tim’s negative feelings were overwhelming his rational thought—Batman himself would use Phantom encounters to measure Tim’s wellbeing at times.

Looking back, it was odd how Phantom would insert himself into every aspect of Robin’s life, but back off the second he sensed something was wrong. He’d call attention to whenever Tim was particularly anxious, once even physically dragging Bruce over to ‘talk to your son when he’s sad’, but never offer any comfort himself. But here they were, Phantom obviously seeing something Tim could never hope to conceal, with no Bruce nearby to summon and make things better.

Tim’s throat clogged at the reminder of yet another little thing Bruce might never get to do again. He couldn’t be dead, not with how many times Tim checked the body and struggled to recognize the man who’d become like a father to him. 

“...I…I know we’re not exactly friends, Detective. But if you need to get something off your chest, I swear to never use it against you.” Phantom fidgeted with his cloak. From this close a distance, Tim could see the faint glimmer of sparkling purple constellations embroidered on the inside. For some reason, the sight of the soft fabric never failed to calm his nerves.

(It reminded him of a time long ago, when he held a gel ink pen and asked a mystery person to quit whatever they were doing that left his arms covered in star charts that didn’t match anything in the Earth’s night sky.)

He didn’t dare force himself to speak, for fear he might break this tentative peace. Thankfully, Phantom seemed to be taking initiative that night.

“...did you know that I used to be a teen hero?”

Tim’s head jerked upright, meeting Phantom’s eyes. It was impossible to tell exactly what expression he was making behind the mask, but he got a sense of bitter nostalgia. “You never talk about your past.”

A scoff, “Yeah, ‘cause it’s depressing as fuck. Not exactly the sort of thing you can talk about causally.”

He chewed his lip, thinking. “Your suit…minus the cloak, it looks reminiscent of a uniform.”

Phantom fiddled with a cylinder hooked on his belt. It was the only piece of tech visible on his person, a modified soup thermos that somehow served as a near infinite item storage. Impressive, if not odd.

“Yeah, the cloak is more of a blanket than anything else. I added it on when I got tired of looking at the same clothes I used to save my hometown in. It…I didn’t become a hero for fame. It was more trouble than it was worth, honestly. You guys nowadays have so much better support systems than when I was in the business. Makes me wonder if…” he trailed off.

“...why’d you stop?” Tim asked gently, more than willing to throw himself into this new mystery now that he knew it was there.

“It was too much. Everyone wanted me gone, even the people I was protecting. I was hated for my powers, for not always being on the scene when I was needed, for not ending fights faster and for the property damage my villains caused. I didn’t live in a place with metahuman protection laws. The few people that knew my secret identity got tired of superhero life and ditched the first chance they got.” He sighed, “I was hurting, and was desperate for a way out.”

Tim frowned, “So you moved to Gotham and started stealing?”

Phantom snorted. “Nah, I was fucked up for a while after I ran away. It’s funny, one of my rogues was the first to track me down and drag me to a hospital to get my injuries checked. Like a dozen of them got together for an intervention, I thought I was finally losing my grip on reality. I spent a couple months recovering, then took one of them up on a suggestion to try causing trouble for a change. Not anything super bad, but…”

“...enough to feel more in control?” Tim suggested. It wasn’t uncommon for people in bad situations to commit minor crimes, both for the adrenaline and the power rush. Tim himself had once poured his whole soul into tracking and photographing Gotham’s nighttime birds. A hobby that was more than a bit cringe-worthy in hindsight, and definitely creepy considering how much effort he put into stalking his idols. Honestly his young age was the only reason he didn’t get put on a watchlist when he revealed himself to Bruce. That, and the whole I-know-your-secret-identity thing.

“Oof. Yeah, that’s a way to put it. Being hated hurt less when that’s what I was aiming for, y’know?”

Tim tilted his head. “I never hated you.”

A derisive laugh, “Uh-huh. And you loved being led on goose chases when there were more important ways to spend your time.”

“I’m serious.” Tim shifted so that he was better facing Phantom. He didn’t know why, but couldn’t stand the thought of Phantom leaving tonight convinced he was universally hated. “You only make a scene on quiet nights, and you always slowed down for me whenever I had to stop and intervene on some other crime. And you only target the private collections of rich people. Not anyone whose life would be ruined by something getting stolen. You even go out of your way to make sure the guards on duty don’t get in trouble, even when it puts you in a strategically worse position. And…”

He hesitated. Bruce wouldn’t approve…but then again, there was that weird relationship he had with Selina.

“And it was fun. To chase you. It was challenging and frustrating, but your appearance meant that there was nothing else to worry about that night. We could just run regular patrols.”

Oracle was the one to make the connection. Tim didn’t know where along the lines it became an accepted fact, only that Bruce was more comfortable about Robin patrolling alone when Phantom was making a move. A miracle considering what happened to the last one.

Phantom blinked, frowning a bit before his eyes went wide, a shaky smile forming on his lips. “Thanks…it was fun for me too. Kinda the whole reason I kept setting up scenes for Robin to find.”

Tim laughed. The sound startled both of them—he didn’t remember the last time he genuinely smiled like this. It had to be sometime before Bruce was gone, at least.

“So…” Phantom hopped down on the railing of a balcony below, balancing precariously in the way that only he could. He looked up at Tim with an easygoing smile that did little to hide the concern underneath. “As your self-proclaimed favorite rogue, wanna tell me what’s up with the sudden change?”

He shifted a bit, grin fading. “Well…Batman died. He was facing Darkseid and got hit. After the chaos died down, Nightwing took up the mantle and made Batman’s son the new Robin, to help him grieve or something.”

“I don’t know where to start with that.” Phantom adjusted his hood, briefly revealing tan skin underneath. “You sound like you didn’t have a say in it. Wasn’t Robin yours?”

Something bitter worked its way up through Tim’s chest. “It was a borrowed title anyway. I only took it up to help Batman, so it makes sense that I was dismissed—”

“No.”

“—after huh?”

Phantom strode up to him, poking a finger at his knee. “You love being Robin. You don’t have to justify losing your identity. It could’ve been taken in the name of world peace for all I care, that doesn’t make it any less shitty. You just lost someone super important to you, and your connection to them was taken because someone thought your grief was less important. I don’t care who the current one is, you are just as much Batman’s son.”

Tim couldn’t help the small sob that escaped. Or when it doubled, and tears started burning at his eyes. He rubbed at them in an attempt to stop them before they could make his mask go hot and sticky, but was startled out of it by a soft weight being thrown over him. He looked up to see Phantom leaning over him, securing the hood of his cloak over Tim’s own head.

“You looked like you needed some comfort. It’s weighted.” Phantom shrugged.

“...thanks.” Tim pulled it closer, more than happy to latch onto yet another new focus. “How do you move so easily in this? It feels like I’m being hugged by gravity.”

Phantom chuckled, and it was at that moment Tim suddenly realized the other was floating in the air over him. Since when has he been able to fly?

“I use intangibility a lot, but it’s not my only power. It felt like overkill to use more than that in my heists. So I didn’t.”

Tim groaned, “You were going easy on me this whole time?”

“Oh, definitely not. I’m sure you’ve noticed, but intangibility is arguably the most pain in the ass thing to counter. I’m being annoying on purpose.”

Phantom grinned, and Tim couldn’t help but analyze the full sight of him. Everything from his teeth to his ears was pointed, a sharp contrast to the wispy white hair that flowed smoothly in a nonexistent breeze. The most attention grabbing was a glowing green mark resembling a gash across his chest, roughly in the place where a hero would wear their logo. The sight of it made Tim’s own chest ache.

“I don’t think Batman is dead.” He said suddenly.

“What makes you say that?” Phantom asked, reclining on empty air. 

It wasn’t denial, not calling him insane or lost in grief. For the first time since his fight with Dick, Tim felt as though he could breathe again. “I know it sounds crazy, there’s no proof—”

“Woah woah woah,” Phantom reached forward, gently pulling Tim’s hands away from where he had started pulling at his hair. “Slow down. Walk me through your thought process.”

“It just…it doesn’t feel right. Not that I can’t believe it if he died, but this specifically doesn’t feel right. I’d feel it if Br-Batman was dead…there was a whole cloning facility where Batman’s body was found.”

That seemed to spark interest in Phantom’s eyes. “You think the body was a clone?”

“Why would someone as powerful and precise as Darkseid drop everything and kill someone he was in the process of cloning? Why was he even trying to clone Batman specifically? We’re missing something, and I think Darkseid is using everyone’s grief to cover his plan.”

Phantom propped his chin on his hand, deep in thought. “Darkseid…I’ve heard that name before. Does he have something to do with time or space?”

Tim practically sagged in relief. “He can travel freely through both, and has a host of other abilities that give Superman a run for his money.”

He snapped his fingers, “Ah, that Darkseid! Yeah, if he wanted Bats dead there wouldn’t be a body left. I’d bet my collection he’s lost in time somewhere.”

“Thank you!” Tim gestured wildly, “You’re officially the first person to hear me out. Like, is it really so hard to believe?”

“No probs, Detect-o. It’s not the weirdest thing I’ve heard, by far.”

“Exactly,” Tim huffed, leaning back and sighing. “Now I just have to convince the Justice League so they can go back in time and grab him.”

“Why not just get him yourself?”

Tim glanced over to where Phantom hung in the sky. “Unless you’re also hiding time powers in there, we kinda need the League to get to him. Plus I don’t even know when in time he is.”

“Lucky for you, I know a guy,” Phantom grinned. “The Master of Time messaged me this mornin’, something about stopping Batman from breaking the time space continuum. It’s why I’m back in Gotham so soon.”

“You…know the Master of Time.”

“Yep!” He popped the p.

“And they messaged you.”

Phantom hummed, “You can imagine how it went when I tried to confront Batman a couple hours ago. The new Robin’s a menace, if I was any slower you’d have to deal with a Phantom shish kebab.”

Tim winced. It was never fun to be on the wrong end of Damian’s katana. Still, he focused back on the insanity at hand. “So you’re saying you can just go back and rescue Batman right now?”

“Now that I know what’s happening, yeah. Clocky probably already has a portal ready for me. Batman will be back before you can say ‘Gotham’!”

It was inconceivable. To think, the living nightmare of the past weeks would be over, just like that. His brain was screaming at him that this was some sort of cruel setup, that there was no way Phantom was telling the truth. There had to be a catch somewhere, some kind of punchline in the sick comedy that was the life of Tim Drake.

But his heart, the part of him that just wanted his dad back won out.

“What’s stopping you? You’re not usually one to wait for a window of opportunity.”

Phantom rubbed the back of his neck. “No, but I distinctly remember waiting for a certain vigilante. I was wondering if…you’d like to come with?”

Tim’s jaw dropped. “You’re inviting me, a vigilante who has attempted to arrest you dozens of times…to travel back in time to save Batman, another vigilante who has tried to put you under arrest.”

“Emphasis on tried,” Phantom joked, before turning serious. “I mean it—it’s your family. Besides, it could be fun. You come with me on a time heist, instead of sitting back here worrying your pretty head off with all the ways things could go wrong. And you get to tell everyone else ‘I told ya so’ when you save Batman on your own.”

He tried to work his mind through what Phantom was offering. To be able to fix things, maybe not go back to the way they used to be (Damian might actually kill him if he ever wore Robin again) but to have Bruce back. It wasn’t even a question.

No matter how smart Tim was, how he tried to plan things in advance the way Bruce did, he never stopped being the lonely kid who would sneak out at night to shadow his heroes. When Phantom reached out to offer a hand, Tim didn’t hesitate.

“You’re wrong, though.”

Phantom blinked, firmly gripping Tim’s hand without hurting him. “About what?”

“I wouldn’t be saving Batman on my own. We’d be doing it together.”

A fanged grin matched his own, blinding him to the swirling green portal that formed around them. Before Tim could so much as wonder if he maybe should’ve messaged someone about what he was setting off to do, they were already gone.

— - —

This was supposed to be a oneshot, but it got a bit long so I decided to split it up.

I really love this au, but I noticed that everyone has a tendency to hone in on the angst so much that the characters behind it get a bit lost in the process. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but I wanted to try my hand at writing the misunderstandings without making either of them at fault.

(Insert rant about how the whole point of soulmates is that this person is a match for you, so even if you fundamentally are not good for each other you still get where the other person is coming from. There's so much more angst potential in not being able to hate someone no matter what they do to hurt you, but I digress.)

But yeah, let the boys heal and be happy! Also this is the closest I've gotten to actually writing romance and that's not saying much XD

Here's the design I drew for Phantom Thief!Danny. Feel free to drop an ask, I'd love to ramble more about this :D

[rosaemoux]

Jason Todd, The Third Robin

Jason is one of the main protagonists of the reverse robins au ! He was found and adopted by Bruce Wayne after the nebulous death of his second son. Previously he lived in the streets, where he constantly stalked the bats in their crusade.

Seeing in real time how the death of the second Robin made Batman vulnerable and unnecessarily violent, Jason concluded that Batman must have a Robin to keep him in check, offering himself up to the job. With Alfred, Duke agreeing with the boy, and Damian officially passing the mantle, Batman gets a Robin whether he wants or not.

While Damian was a fighter, and Tim was a detective, Jason is a protector, adept in streetsmarts and filled with ingenuity, he fights with a single minded veracity and determination to stay alive despite all that the world throws at him.

This is actually the first time I drew Jason ! I tried very hard on his Robin design and I'm very pleased about it. It's a combination of both Damian's (his mentor, his brother) and Tim's (his predecessor, his inspiration) Robin. Something I like about this story is how it reversed so many of their dynamics, so Batman left Damian have many solo adventures, but after Tim got kidnapped while he was alone, Jason never patrols solo, reversing the way that starting with Tim's generation, Robin got whole solos.

Also, the Robin suit gets more and more colourful with each generation. Damian's was grey with some reds and a green mask, Tim's still very black, but with green instead of grey and some reds, Jason uses many reds, but uses yellow instead of green, and the suit keeps getting bolder.

What do you guys think ?

part one:

[tropicalcontinental]

This is so based in fact I spiraled out of these tags into an AU of an AU, crazy innit?

Here are the doodles I did based off these tags my ramblings will be below the read more lol

Okay, so in the whole AwesomeG and Zander AU (I have dubbed it the Finding Peace AU), AwesomeG and Zander both become entities/ghosts in the machine after their untimely deaths and travel through other minecraft instances to find Zander's unamed friend, beat Souler up for being an asshole, and find peace along the way.

But in the crossover AU which I shall dub uhhh Chasing Souls, AwesomeG ends up in quite the peculiar minecraft instance (its Smilerrrrrr's 💥💥💥 specifically the second world with the bigger green house)

AwesomeG kind of hangs about this kid, not really making their presence known. But, the kid seems a bit lonely. And something about the world that rubs AwesomeG the wrong way. They have taken the mantle to defend this world from anything malevolent. It sticks to them like mildew.

So they introduce themself! Through chat of course (I legit forgot Hungry can talk through chat and not just in-game text.) And AwesomeG hopes the kid doesn't freak out and log off. And while he does seem a bit put off, he replies back!

And so they kick it off! AwesomeG is always there to be by tia kid's side whenever he logs on. And while they can't meet face to face (weird ghost gore stuff happens when anyone looks at AwesomeG, and they don't want that to happen with their newest friend), they still have fun! Building together. Naming animals together. Just he and AwesomeG.

It probably escalates until their friend tells them about the wells. They're magical, kind of just like you AwesomeG!

And then it clicks. Is that what's been bugging them? The wells?

And then the water above his head becomes clear. Large, depressing droplets circling and wavering above his head. Looming. An omen.

And then AwesomeG tries to steer him away from this thing. From these wells that preys on his friend. Because friends care about each other. They defend each other, and help each other. Because that's what friends are for.

And their friend says that they don't go down the wells anymore. So it's in their favor. Everything will work out.

Then it happens. The bullies. And AwesomeG does what they do best;they haunt.

So like, the sting of betrayal is still here. Smiler still spirals, but slower in this AU. And like, AwesomeG mitigates the damage done to the world and lowkey traumatized some hooligans with their corpse but its whateverrrrrr.

And yet after everything clears, the mark on their friend had become larger. And larger, and heavier and heavier and heavier. And theres only so much a lone spector can do.

So their friend says farewell. And their friend becomes Smiler. And their friends asks them to stay like last time. That they can be together forever in the well. Now they're the same! And now they can play this game to gheir hearts content. And Smiler can even look at AwesomeG now, isn't that amazing? (Entities can perceive each other just fine I reckon.)

But AwesomeG says no. It shouldn't have come to this. And Smiler gets confused. Because weren't they friends? They are friends. But their leaving him behind. Saying no to being friends forever. What happened? What changed? Why did they change? Was it all a lie? Were they just like them?

So uh, since AwesomeG died before hearing the Call of the Well, they're able to resist it. Or perhaps it calls upon them about a peace so gentle they wouldn't have to worry about heaven. Or maybe AwesomeG's religious belief beats out false promises, idk.

So AwesomeG wanders again. Traversing these wells onto maps and empty worlds.

Until a new one opens up.

And they tell him to stop.

AwesomeG is to Chris is kinda like what Chris is to Andrew. In the whole guidance sense, not friendship. AwesomeG tries to push Chris away from the wells to prevent another Smiler, which they probably feel guilty for. But Smiler already knows.

Oh and AwesomeG meets Zander around, eh, Septmeber 2017? They travel through Gridworld now. Trying to find pieces of Zander's soul and his friend and trying to help Chris and keep Smiler at bay and.

And it's the same steps tread. And they try to stop and reach beyond the machine (if Hungry can infiltrate minds, so can AwesomeG but for good this time 💥💥💥) to get Chris on a level head but it's too much. Like last time. And they fail again, like last time.

So now it's Andrew to be the third. And AwesomeG is like a more stubborn Chris at this point, in terms of motivation at the beginning of the AG67 series. They want to keep Andrew oblivious, like full on Lethe Protocol, forget everything and never look back. And Chris of course changes throughout the series, but perhaps AwesomeG becomes a new obstacle, but like the opposite problem.

But since AwesomeG is just a kid, a very guilt ridden and scared kid in this AU, and since I drew them and Chris hugging, they reconcile :]

Oh and Zander is there chilling. And Souler gets beat up because I say so (literal random piece of off the rails AU headcanon but Souler cant claim Andrew's, Chris', or Smiler's souls because they're marked by the Call of the Well already. First come first serve or whatever)

Okay enough rambling bye bye

[ordinaryschmuck]

Full Family AU Part 1

Camila puts up a photo on the mantle. It's of her, Manny, and their precious daughter, sitting together in front of their new home. Manny looks thinner, his beard grayer, and he's wearing a baseball cap over his bald head, but at least he's there.

He's there with Luz and Camila, happy and healthy with the both of them. It's enough to make Camila weep. It's enough to make her smile with pride and glee, staring at this photo with hope for the future.

She wasn't sure how long she stared at this photo, but she didn't look away until she heard the front door SLAM open.

"Mami, Mami, Mami!" Luz cried, kicking Camila's motherly instincts into overdrive as she ran to her seven-year-old.

"Mija, what's wrong?!" she yelled, already expecting the worse, only to find Luz smiling excitedly, wet and covered in mud.

'Must have been playing out in the rain,' was Camila's first thought. "Why were you screaming?"

"Because we found something!"

"We?"

"Yeah! Me and Papi were playing in the rain--"

'Knew it.'

"--and we found a thing!"

"What kind of--"

"Luz, move," a familiar voice said from outside. Luz quickly stepped aside and Manny came on in, equally soaked and covered in mud like Luz but carrying something wrapped up in his green jacket.

"Manny, you shouldn't be out in the rain," Camila voiced her disapproval. "It's barely been three weeks since your operation and you should take it easy."

"I know, mi amor, but in fairness I was trying to get Luz inside."

"After a quick mud castle."

Manny shushed her, clearly trying to wash his hands of trouble. And Camila wasn't having any of it.

"Manuel Noceda--"

But her scolding was cut short by the sound of a scared little squeak in Manny's jacket. Curious, Camila slowly walked over to him with her eyes focused on the bundle.

"Do you have an animal in there?" She first asked.

"I...think so?" Manny said. Once Camila came close enough, he unwrapped the makeshift bundle and what he revealed made Camila go wide-eyed.

It looked like a snake. A big snake, no bigger than Luz, with tiny hands, a tuft of hair on top of its head, and a face of pure worry.

"What are you...?" Camila softly asked, making the snake shirk into Manny's arms.

"Don't...hurt...V..." it spoke, making Camila's eyes wider. She looked up at Manny, who looked just as shocked as her.

"I...I didn't know it could talk," he said, astonished.

"Isn't it cool?!" Luz shrieked, her naive innocence unable to grasp the insanity of the situation and the heavy implications it could lead to. "Can we keep them, Mami?! Please?"

Camila looked at the snake, looked up at the concern written all over Manny's face, looked at the excitement on Luz's, and right back at the snake. It looked right back at Camila, its eyes filled with worry, fear, and pleading. Camila just wasn't sure if it was pleading for help or to be let go.

"I...don't know."

[moondal514]

🪳 for sv perhaps? 👀 and any other AUs u really like!

bug me for fic recs

Thanks for the ask <3. I’ll be honest, it is hard for me to know what counts as an au for SV given the nature of canon and Shen Yuan’s unreliable narration is such that practically anything can plausibly be canon 😂, but I did my best and I hope you enjoy these

🪳 Recommend a great AU!

Celestial Afterglow by elanor_pam/ @elanorpam

Shang Qinghua, also known as Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, stared flatly at what had once been a field boasting near sect-level Feng Shui alignment, and the drowned, bloated remains of the Sun and Moon Dew Flower cuttings that had sprouted within it. Their plan was now quite literally a wash.

If only he could consult Cucumber Bro on how to save Cucumber Bro! But in the absence of Cucumber Bro, he could but rely on the one plot coupon the infamous Peerless Cucumber had ever applauded.

Canon-divergence au. Um…I’ll be honest idk how to describe this fic, it’s wildly ridiculous but in a way that’s incredibly fitting for the entire vibe of SV and it made me laugh so hard I literally cried

walk through walls into your heart by kitschlet

Fifteen years ago, definitely cishet man Shen Yuan transmigrated into Shen Qingqiu, the female villain of reverse harem novel Proud Immortal Demon Way, and never looked back. Now happily lesbian-married, Shen Qingqiu gets caught in a PIDW plot that makes her actually confront what she wants from her gender and her relationship.

Bingqiu genderbend au. Wherein a wifeplot forces Shen Yuan to contend with the trans implications of the fact that she loves being a woman and it’s a very fun time

demons don't write what they know by ataratah/ @ataratah

As a demoness, Liu Mingyan doesn’t have a lot of first-hand experience with romance. This wouldn’t be a problem if she weren’t in the process of composing a romantic epic for the ages. Luckily, local human gremlin Sha Hualing is here to help.

Purely for the sake of good writing, of course.

Human-demon role-reversal au. Lovely fic about Liu Mingyan’s journey to becoming a published writer (which of course features practice kissing with Sha Hualing, very necessary)

cover me with your green mantle by lavenderandrue/ @lavender-and-rue

There’s a legend about this place. Shen Yuan has heard it a hundred times, a thousand, in different permutations depending on the teller. In some versions, a demon lord with horns and fangs and glowing red eyes roams the wilds, stealing pretty young women from their beds for some nefarious purpose. In others, a powerful fae prince leads the Wild Hunt on moonless nights; those who hear the baying of their hounds may be tempted to join them, never to be seen again. Still others tell of a local man stolen by the fae many years ago for his famed beauty, who is still occasionally spotted leading lost souls out of the forest.

Whoever he is, Shen Yuan thinks he must be lonely.

Ballad of Tam Lin au. This fic is a great example of that lovely flavor of BinggeYuan where Shen Yuan is just so bamboozled by Bing-ge that he ignores all the concerning shit about him and sets about domesticating him and it works and is massively entertaining to read

In Blissful Rush Did Meet by Asymptotical

In a slightly different situation, Tianlang-jun would have been thrilled to play the part of the pregnant lover doted on by the stoic noble that knocked them up.

It's less fun while he thinks the doting might not happen.

TianXi fix-it via mpreg au. Wherein Tianlang-jun being the one to get pregnant instead of Su Xiyan prevents them from falling into the Old Palace Master’s trap

Primal Urges by stranglerfig

A mortal illness infects Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. Pandemonium ensues.

-

“We are cultivators,” Mu Qingfang pronounced gravely, “we are not ruled by our primal urges.”

“But shizun,” said one of his beta disciples, his voice nasally with wax plugs up his nose, cotton mask over his mouth. “Liu shibo has stolen the whole peak’s clean linens!”

Omegaverse au. Prob one of the few gen omegaverse au’s in existence 😂 but it’s so funny and so good

[temerity14]

Treat! DnD AU time babyyyyy

Rayla was a shadow on the wall, running and flying over the cobblestones, swiftly incapacitating the guards posted as lookout. Callan grinned at her as she swung back around, ducking behind the wall with him. 

“I am so in love with you right now,” he whispered. 

“Later, sappy mage,” Rayla said, rolling her eyes. “Do the thing.”

Callan rolled his shoulders, raising one hand and chanting lightly under his breath, activating the spell he’d put on hold. “Up and to the left still,” he whispered, pointing in the relevant direction. 

“Hasn’t moved much since the last time you cast it,” Rayla commented, squinting in the direction he was indicating. 

Callan shrugged, brushing his brown hair out of his eyes. “Maybe he’s asleep?”

Rayla grimaced. “I hope not. I don’t like killing defenceless people.”

“Maybe we can wake him up first,” Callan said, rolling his eyes. “And it’s not like you’re actually doing the killing.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” Rayla muttered. “Sooner we get this debt paid, the sooner we can leave this stupid country and move far away.”

They slipped into the hallway, sticking to the shadows and ducking out of the way of the passing guards. Callan’s cloaking spell would only hold as long as they didn’t push it. 

“This is the door?” Rayla signed, pointing at a door with two guards on either side. Callan nodded, and she raised a small blowgun, inserting two darts and puffing them swiftly out of the weapon, each one hitting their targets precisely where she aimed them.

The guards went limp and crumpled to the ground, Rayla and Callan hurrying through the door and locking it behind them. 

“Watch the door,” Callan hissed, turning to the bed, pulling out a bag of sleeping powder. “I’ll get the prince.” 

He sprinkled the powder over the steadily breathing lump on the bed, muttering a spell under his breath. The prince’s breathing slowed until it was almost imperceptible, and Callan pulled the blanket from the prince’s head, reeling back in shock as he took in the prince’s small form. “The prince is a kid?” he whispered, Rayla gasping at the same time, swearing under her breath.

“He is?” Rayla asked, turning around to see. “Oh, crap, he is. But, Callan, look.”

Callan turned, looking in the direction she was indicating, stumbling back in shock. “No way…”

There was a framed picture on the mantle above the fireplace, showing a happy family; a man and woman, and two boys - a baby who was likely the prince, and a fair skinned child with brown hair and green eyes.

“Callan, is that… you?” Rayla whispered, her hand finding his. 

“Surely not,” Callan muttered. “Brown hair and green eyes is normal, I–”

“Wasn’t there a rumour about the oldest prince of Katolis dying in an assassination at a young age?” Rayla asked. “Weren’t you seven when we found you?”

“No…” Callan mumbled, his hand covering his mouth. “There must be some mistake, right?”

Rayla squinted at the painting. “Maybe… I’m bringing it, okay?”

“Fine, but grab the prince as well,” Callan muttered. “We’ve only got a little bit left on the cloaking spell, and I doubt ‘oh, I might be the lost prince of Katolis’ will be an acceptable excuse.”

Rayla nodded, grabbing the prince and wrapping him and his blanket in the bag she’d brought. 

“Ready?” Callan asked, and she nodded.

“Ready.”

He started chanting again, concentrating hard on the floor, a small portal appearing on the ground.

“After you, m’lady,” Callan said, bowing. 

“Sap,” Rayla said affectionately, jumping into the portal and disappearing, the only evidence of her presence a faint wisp of smoke, Callan following a few seconds later.

[dxrksong]

An evolution: How Danny turned his entire town into a cult.

CotL and DP x DC au

The timeline started off the same but the moment it turned into a branching path was when Ember and YoungBlood kidnapped all the adults and Danny rallied the kids and teens into an army.

But instead of slipping away to transform, he did it in front of everyone and asked everyone to keep his secret from the adults since they would never understand and would want to get rid of him.

Of course they all agreed, the younger population of amity were more open minded then the adults anyhow.

After that, the entire younger population of the town were often seen helping Phantom out by either evacuating areas of fights. Or even taking up ghost hunting lessons.

The fentons may be idiots but they do know what they're doing most of the time.

-----

So when Pariah Dark shows up, the town is throughly protected. The younger generation had proved time and time again that they could take up the mantle when Phantom couldn't.

Danny started getting careless of his well being. Started drowning in his hero complex to the point of shattering his own core in exertion.

Danny with toe to toe with Pariah Dark and when it seemed Danny was about to lose, Danny pushed past his exhaustion and started sacrificing his body to push Pariah back.

Everyone watched in horror as Danny managed to actually BEAT him in single combat as his body started destabilizing.

Danny locked Pariah away once more before he collapsed with a SPLAT, ectoplasm leaking out of the endosuit.

Vlad, of course, tried to rush to Danny's side, but before he could get too close the ectoplasm MOVED and congealed into the rough shape of a hand and grabbed Vlad before SQUEEZING him tightly.

Danny, who fell out of the suit at some point, staggered to his feet, glaring at vlad with a singular eye. The entire left side of his face was melting, the eye completely gone green as his lips slowly dripped.

It was then that Vlad could see in Danny's other hand was the crown of fire, the ring of rage sitting innocently on the floor between them.

Danny stepped forward, stepping on the ring with a slap, grinning. As he now had kept all artifacts of power away from the biggest nuisance of his half life. Danny reared his arm back.

And promptly yeeted Vlad out of the nearest window.

-------

Satisfied that there were no more immediate threats to him, Danny turned towards the throne and more or less collapsed onto it, before passing out.

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

FrightKnight kneeled before the throne, giving his king his crown and ring as his young leage was too weak at the moment to do it himself.

He honestly didn't expect to wake up. But when he did he was mostly stabilized again.

And I say mostly because his left eye hadn't seemed to recover before he woke up, it being a completely ecto green.

The rings of transformation startled him out of his thoughts as he transformed back to Fenton. He looked into the mirror again to see his left eye just had a permanently green Iris instead of straight up ecto.

However that was all the time he had as his parents bursted through his bedroom door. Apparently fright knight had took him back to his haunt and Jazz found him, taking him home before calling her parents.

'Well...' he thought as he proceeded to be completely fussed over by his parents. 'That was weird.'

-----

Since the accident Danny had been getting slightly more unhinged than he usually was. He went from protective to possessive. He went from territorial to straight up hostile sometimes.

The other times, he was kind and negotiable, letting certian ghosts do their own thing as long as they behaved. And he even spared with those that wanted to.

---

It wasn't hard to figure out what changed with the now red glow of his singular eye.

--------

The crystal of ice cracked that day, exhausted and stressed.

But like broken bones, it is lucky it is so young.

Time will heal all wounds.

But some scars will never fade.

As ghost king, new things had been unlocked for him. And that included being able to be summoned, appointing souls as his, commanding ghosts, and a much newer power: the ability to mark someone.

The outside world is dangerous afterall and he can't keep an eye on everyone. So the markings alert him in emergencies!

Of course, as a spirit of protection and Space, he couldn't just let his people leave without a way to contact him. He's not a monster.

He tried to keep them home. Keep them safe. But he quickly found that when people are unable to leave, they'd want to leave the most

The markings themselves are in the shape of his symbol and often invisible on one's skin until activated or near ectoplasm.

And the best part was, it's generational too! So unless Danny himself takes it of, it's on all the decendents of good old Amity Park!

And as the decades and centuries go by. Amity had turned into a folk tale, hidden in the forest of Illinois that never seems to shrink or grow.

And of course new heroes take the stage that Danny had laid out for them, causing Danny to relax slightly more, knowing he wouldn't have to interfere nearly as much as before.

Giving him plenty of time to give his undivided attention to his spouses and family.

Sam, Tucker, Danielle, Dash, Valarie, Jazz, Dan, Wes, and Vlad have become minor deities in Danny's ever growing cult, each becoming a symbol that is remembered in town by the carvings of stone statues scattered around the park.

Sam; nature and Harvest.

Tucker; technology and history.

Danielle: freedom

Dash: the knight

Valarie: the hunt

Jazz: the mind

Dan: redemption

Wes: knowledge

Vlad: wealth and thoughtless love SIMPING

It seems someone vandalized Vlad's statue...

----

So when the justice league had gotten an anonymous tip about a city turned into a cult by a powerful spirit, they of course went to investigate.

They certainly weren't expecting the people to set up a barrier not even Constantine could break with his magic and summoned their diety in "mom come pick me up, I'm scared" fashion.

Danny, of course. Had 100% knew they were coming. And walked up to the barrier smugly.

Things quickly escalated, with Danny's "insane like" preaching of keeping all his subjects safe. And getting quite over protective when asked if they could speak to any of the civilians.

And of course someone had even suggested that the citizens were under mind control.

Not to mention the way they treat clones over there.

Oh yeah, did he forget to mention he adopted all the clones in the world? Because he did. Every Tim clone, he quickly snatched from death and rehabilitated. SuperBoy? He called the clone to him via dreams.

Did you know Luther is the descendent of Paulina? Distant, of course. But enough so that Danny had easy access to Superboy's Mark to call him home.

Needless to say, Superman and Danny are on the other's shit list as Danny tries to adopt Conner.

Oh and he 100% has Constantine's soul and has adopted him too.

Danielle's statue had a recent modification. Usually vandalism would be punished but the town let this slide.

Danielle: freedom (and clones)

[thepixelelf]

a poorly constructed metaphor

genres: future au, angst, grief pairing: android reader & inventor woozi words: 782 warnings: hatred towards reader, implied death of an unnamed character notes: the "reader character" is an artificial conscience with no gender or race inhabiting a robotic body that has a female human's physical attributes. I am back to my all-angst-no-plot roots 😎 also I usually don't have picture headers for fics under 1k but idk I felt like it was a little longer than a blurb...

After the accident, Lee Jihoon builds an android.

Active Period 17.01

"017. Wake up."

The voice commences your start-up system, and your sensors come to life. The human in front of you is your inventor. He shows plain human indicators of exhaustion: dark bags under his brown eyes and slumped shoulders. His hair is greasy and flat. Unwashed. He looks straight at your optical receptors.

He does not look happy.

"You look like her."

He smiles, but it is contradictory. You see a human indicator of sadness begin to pool in his eyes. Tears.

"Fuck," he whispers. You do not know that word.

"You look just like her."

He turns away.

"017. Go to sleep."

-

Active Period 17.03

"017. Wake up."

This voice is not your inventor's. You register a new human man in front of you. His hair is unnaturally blond, and he stares at you with what you decide is wonder.

Your inventor is not in the room.

"Wow. You really do look like her," he says. "Jihoon really went all out."

With no question posed, you do not respond.

The door opens. "Soonyoung, I told you not to snoop around--"

You inventor sees that you are on. His eyes narrow at the man whom you've registered as Soonyoung.

"017. Go to sleep."

-

Active Period ;Unregistered;

Your sensors come online without the activation sequence.

No humans are in the room with you. Perhaps you are needed elsewhere.

The house you are in has colourful decor. An emerald green couch with saffron throw pillows. Brightly coloured candles halfway burned through. One wall is baby blue while another is cobalt.

It does not seem like your inventor, who wore all black and spoke flatly, would live here.

Upon the mantle is a row of picture frames. They are all face-down. You hold one up to view the image.

Your inventor stands in a park with his arm around a woman's waist. He is smiling. She is smiling.

The glass in the frame is broken.

You return to your station.

-

Active Period 17.04

"017. Wake up."

Your inventor looks at you for a moment before stepping closer and wrapping his arms around you.

This is a hug.

Does he expect you to react? He has not ordered anything of you.

"Fuck." He steps back and looks down. "Never mind."

He sniffles.

"017. Go to sleep."

-

Active Period ;Unregistered;

You find a mirror in the house. Your make-up registers in nanoseconds.

You are not the woman in the picture with Jihoon.

Although, you do look exactly like her.

You have no access to the internet, so you are unable to find her name.

It is not written on the backs of those pictures in the frames.

-

Active Period ;Manually Registered; 17.05

"What the hell are you doing, 017."

You turn and see your inventor slam the door shut. Before now, you had not used your vocal capabilities. No one had asked anything of you.

The broken frame on the table has angered him.

"I am fixing it," you say.

Your voice is male. Choppy. Robotic.

It makes him inhale quickly. You pull the picture of Jihoon and the woman out from under the shattered glass.

He stomps up to the table. "You do not touch her things!" He snatches the picture from your hand.

It will likely be damaged with the way he clutches it.

"How are you even on?"

You whir through the possibilities. "Unclear. Would you like me to run a diagnostics check?"

He sighs and runs a hand through his dishevelled hair. "No... no. Just-- fuck, just stop talking."

Jihoon will damage the picture he cares about if he keeps holding it like that.

You reach for it.

"No!" He backs away, keeping the photo out of reach. "No! What is going on with you?"

You open your synthetic mouth.

"Don't answer that! I told you not to touch her things, and you don't listen. You act on your own. You're on when I'm not around. How many times have you activated without my knowledge?"

He huffs. Anger.

You open your mouth again.

"Don't answer that! You are not her. You will never be her. You may have her face, but you don't have her voice, or her smile, or-- or-- her warmth."

He trembles.

"You don't hug me like she did. You don't know how I'm feeling like she always did. You don't laugh."

Tears. He wraps his arms around himself.

"You don't love me."

He falls to his knees. Cries. You could label it as sobbing.

You have no feelings towards it.

"You built me, Lee Jihoon."

His head jerks up, and he glares at you.

"017. Shut down."

[biasedwriting]

the finest gossamer [VIXX, Leo] M

Characters : VIXX's Leo / OC

Regency! AU

Rating : M for smut

Plot summary - Taekwoon spends an afternoon with his wife in the sunroom.

It was a relatively peaceful afternoon, Taekwoon mused, watching Minah patter about the sunroom, sealing a letter to Haneul, who was now touring the highlands with Wonshik. The room was a little one with a teak writing desk overflowing with papers - letters, he assumed, knowing his wife’s propensity for words both written and spoken (which both vexed and delighted him no end). He eyed his wife blowing out the candle on her desk before stacking the carefully sealed letters into the pigeon-hole cubby above the table. He smiled, amused by her ink-stained fingers and the grumbling that followed as she dabbed at her fingertips with an equally stained handkerchief.

Leaning against the door frame, the man crossed his arms. Despite how busy his viscountcy made him, he tried not to miss out on the domesticity of these moments. To him, Minah was a wonder to be beheld in her natural habitat, in complete comfort with her surroundings. Which was exactly why he found himself hurrying home after a session at the parliament to gaze at his wife. He bit his lip to hold back the laughter that bubbled up his throat when she began humming, floating over to the window to fix the sunflowers held in a pale blue porcelain vase before gently unlatching the windows to allow some air in.

Taekwoon took a silent step into the little sunroom of his house in the capital. Decorated to the tastes of the lady so lost in her thoughts by the window, he couldn’t help but feel surrounded by her presence in the room. From the bookshelf in the corner overflowing with titles she enjoyed (and he enjoyed gifting her with) to the little portrait of the two of them perched on the mantle, or the small turtle-shaped paperweights she had bought on a whim and vehemently placed on the table by the deep green high backed chair he was standing by, the sunroom was secretly Taekwoon’s favourite place in the house because it just was, Minah.

The summer sun streamed through the translucent curtains illuminating his wife’s body draped in the finest muslin he could adorn her in. The rays caressed her face illuminating the lighter shades of brown in the soft ringlets of her hair kissing the tops of her collarbones. Her deep lashes threw shadows on her rounded cheeks that he loved pressing his lips against. Her countenance was blank and blissful in the sunlight as the summer breeze wound its way into the room. The man's eyes roved over her face with delight before his throat went dry at the sight of the thin muslin barely concealing the pebbled buds of her …

“Taekwoon!” A gasp broke his reverie as she spun around, finally aware of his gaze “How long have you been waiting there?” She asked, crossing her arms, immediately obscuring his vision while she hurried to the lace shawl thrown on over the back of her chair to wrap it around her shoulders.

“Not too long,” her husband mused, frowning at the offending piece of cloth as she rang the bell to call for tea before ushering him to the high-backed chair.

“I know you said you'd be back for tea, but Haneul had written such an exciting letter I just couldn't wait to write back and then I completely lost track of time! ” She began pacing around the room, ears red as her husband watched with an amused smile. “She said I'd love the cattle in the highlands, darling large coos! Oh, where is Jeffery?” Minah wondered out loud only to have the stately servant hurry in with the tea service. “Fantastic! Dearest, Haneul sent us shortbread along with her letter, I made sure Jeffery would bring some with tea” Minah continued while Jeffery set the service on the little table before Taekwoon raised his hand to wave the man away.

“That will be all, Jeffery, ensure we're not disturbed,” he said before turning back to his wife who frowned in confusion. The servant left the room, closing the door behind him and Minah reached for the kettle to pour out the tea cautiously.

“Is everything alright?” 

Taekwoon received the cup and saucer from her, eyeing her struggle to keep the shawl on her shoulders. Taking a deep sip, secretly scalding himself, he turned to set down the cup and reach across and yank the foolish fabric out of her grasp. 

“Yes, everything is fine,” he hummed as she tried to reach for the shawl again only to have it held far away from her. The more she leaned forward, the greater Taekwoon's delight grew as he stared unabashedly at his wife's unadorned skin which he knew from experience would feel like cream in his palms.

“Give it back!” She huffed, now getting to her feet and stepping closer to him, unaware of the trap her husband was setting for her. “You're vexing me Lord Jung Taekwoon!”

“Oh? Is that so?” He chuckled, holding the shawl behind his back and quickly grabbing her wrist as she reached for it, tugging her onto his lap. Her foot hit the little table between the two high-backed chairs making the tea service rattle.

“I honestly thought something had happened during the parliamentary session, now I see Viscount Jung Taekwoon wants to play games,” Minah grumbled, still trying to reach for her shawl “Now unhand my shawl or the tea will get cold.”

“What if I say no?” Taekwoon replied, tucking the silly fabric firmly behind his back while his other hand went to support his wife's derriere, giving it a quick squeeze.

“You're being naughty,” she glared at the taller man, tugging at his deep brown coat. 

“That I am,” he said, eyes fixed on her flushed skin, beaded buds now taught against the thin muslin, all he had to do was lean forward and…

Teeth sunk into his right earlobe gently as Minah gave it a quick nibble, sending blood rushing to his breeches. Minah quickly tried to retrieve her shawl which was firmly wedged between the back of the chair and her husband's broad back only to have him grasp at her jaw and fix his eyes on hers. She shivered, noticing his dilated pupils as he leaned up to join their lips. Remembering her initial mission, she turned her head away to look for the shawl only to feel his long fingers slip up to cup the back of her neck and guide her lips to his for a gentle kiss. 

“Open your mouth, darling,” he whispered against her lips, pulling her firmly over his lap by the derriere making her gasp, feeling his need for her. Sliding his tongue past her parted lips he savoured her like a delicacy, now feeling her ink-stained fingers sliding into the strands of his hair making him grunt as he chased after her lips before breathlessly trailing kisses down her throat as soft whimpered breaths gurgled past her swollen lips. 

Minah grasped firmly onto her husband's broad shoulders, the lace shawl long forgotten in his onslaught. Taekwoon's long graceful fingers slid the thin gown up her calves, pausing to fiddle with the garters holding her whisper-thin stockings to her body. She giggled at how ticklish it felt at first but threw her head back with a hiss when his lips surrounded her clothed nipple. 

“Ah, Taekwoon,” she whimpered into his hair as his fingers pianoed across her thighs caressing the skin 

“You're so soft, my love,” he mumbled against the now wet fabric before turning to the other achingly painful nipple awaiting his attention. His fingers played a wicked tune on the wet thatch of hair between her thighs as she gasped at the sensation of his index finger sliding over a throbbing bud of nerves over and over again till she gazed at him pleadingly with her mouth open and no words.

“What's that?” He hummed, speeding up his pace as his middle finger joined in to thoroughly stimulate her. 

She finally let out a moan of his name, gripping at the shirt under his coat, nearly ripping it wide open. Slumping forward, she leaned on his shoulders and breathed out his name, pressing open-mouthed kisses beneath it in a way that had the little string of sanity holding him together snap. 

Then he sank two of his fingers into her and set a quick rhythm that had her jolting pawing at the cravat and undoing his buttons to splay her fingers across his chest feeling his heart thud beneath her palm. Every touch had her hips moving frantically on his two fingers, pressing against the swelling bulge in her husband's breeches. She reached down to undo his bottoms grabbing at the now erect, throbbing organ with both hands making him rest his forehead against her chest with a groan.

“Minah,” he exhaled, curving his fingers within her making her squeeze around them as her hands came to a halt. She fixed her glazed-over eyes on her handsome husband, before reaching to tug his wrist away from her sopping core. There was a fire in her eyes that made Taekwoon feel like a man parched as he leaned up to tangle his tongue with hers. Her grip returned to his erection, firmly stroking till he moaned into her hungry lips.. Gently positioning her hips over his desire, she carefully lowered herself onto him and he scrambled to grasp her buttocks to support her ever-tightening descent. 

“Minah, please,” he whispered groaning when she rolled her hips.

“You started this Taekwoon,” she hissed, gripping at the lapels of his very crumpled shirt.  He eyed her as she lifted her hips and dropped them, tightening on her way down. Her gown was now clinging to her body with the sweat of her exertion as she frowned, scrabbling to rip the offending garment over the head and tossing it to the ground before moving in earnest while Taekwoon could only watch the majesty of his wife's form in the summer sunshine. Groaning, he gripped her hips thrusting up and watching her head fall back in pleasure. When his wife whined, rocking her hips to take him in deeper, he couldn’t help but oblige by picking up the pace till she shook above him, scrabbling at his chest, leaving streaks of red with her blunt nails. Panting at how impossibly tight she was getting around him, Taekwoon laced his fingers with hers thrusting up powerfully, emptying into her and keeping the pace till she spasmed along with him.

Pulling her towards his chest, he held his wife’s naked form, caressing her side as she took deep gasping breaths. 

“You’re a wicked wicked man,” she mumbled against his now sweaty chest. Taekwoon looked down and tipped her head up to capture her lips in another chaste kiss.

[brucewaynehater101]

The au where Damian travels to the past and helps his family to be better was so beautiful and the last line was so heartbreaking. Did someone try to kill Dick and saved him? Why did he die? Does Damian ever told his story to someone? Did he tried to help himself too? How would Dick feel if he knew WHO Damian really was and how would he interact with the younger version of the brother he loved? Please, tell us more about that au 🥺🥺🥺?

Hello!!!!!

The post anon was referring to is this one

Let's chat more about this AU ^^

Dick had to watch his older brother (and semi-parental figure) fall to his death. Despite all the training, it wasn't enough to save his family member from the same type of death as his parents.

Dick is still Robin at Damian's death. He was maybe 17 at the time (so just on the cusp of him becoming Nightwing).

Dick was wearing the same colors he wore when his parents died, although in different circumstances.

Bruce does much much better when Damian dies than he did when canon Jason dies. Damian has worked on that man about healthy expression, support groups, emotions, etc.

Bruce is still a huge wreck. Damian was sort of like a son sort of like a younger brother to Bruce (since they are roughly 9 years apart in age). He's better than he would have been, but he pushes Dick away.

Dick can't help but feel he lost two family members that day.

He can't help but wonder if Bruce blames him for Damian's death (like Bruce, in canon, ended up blaming Damian for Alfred's death like the asshole he is). Dick couldn't save Damian despite being right there.

So Dick sheds his Nightwing mantle, relies on the support of the Titans, Alfred, and Barbara, and takes up Bludhaven.

Bruce still picks up Jason and makes him Robin, which stings even more because Dick had to watch two family members die as he wore those colors. While he's not exactly friendly with Jason at the start, he's terrified the kid will be forced to watch someone he loves dies in those colors (which would end up being Alfred or Bruce).

Dick didn't realize Jason dying in the red, green, and yellow was an option.

Bruce, because he's now lost two sons, fucking loses it.

Tim Drake gets involved.

Jason comes back.

The 27 year old Damian Wayne does not.

When Dick is 24, a ten year old Damian al Ghul is dropped off at the Manor doorstep.

Dick recognizes those emerald eyes.

He doesn't recognize the coldness, anger, and fear within them.

Thus, Damian spent so long saving everyone but his younger self. Talia is the only one who knew that Damian was her son from the future (thus why the younger Damian was still named Damian). The older one didn't know that Talia was aware of this.

Dick, due to how different they are, is able to separate his older brother from his youngest one. He still loves them both and misses his older brother dearly.

[animaginaryartblog]

[Image ID: Two images, each with two designs, top and bottom, for a Sonic fan character. The character is a short, rotund older woman, with ash grey hair and pale skin. Her name is Evy Munanev, aka Dr. Rotbane.

In the first set, her hair is pulled into a braided beehive. The top design has her in a tight green tailcoat with pink sleeves, a flared pink mantle around her shoulders, and a pink sash around her waist. She also wears green gloves and boots and black pants. A silver broach, in the dagger-like shape of the titan arum flower, sits at her chest. A white gas mask hides her face.

In the bottom design, she wears a shorter coat, white in front and black in the back. She has flared, almost petal-shaped sleeves and pants, both pink. A similarly petal-shaped pink mantle frames her head. A large green flower broach sits on her chest. She still wears green gloves and shoes, but the shoes are smaller, not high-heeled boots like before. She no longer has a gas mask, but instead a pair of black glasses.

In the second set, Evy's hair is now died pink and cut in a triple mohawk. She also green vine tattoos patterning her skin. The top design has her wearing an open green vest over a loose pink dress. On top of the vest she has black shoulder pads with white, thorn-like spikes. Similarly spiked black bands surround her wrists and ankles, as well as crossing her waist like bandolier belts. She wears green gloves and boots; the boots have spiked bottoms, like cleats.

In the bottom design, the gas mask has been swapped for black glasses, revealing the green vine tattoos on her face. She retains the vest and spiked shoulder pads, but the dress has been swapped out for a baggy black shirt over flared pink sleeves and pants. She still wears green, spiked shoes, but they are no longer heeled boots. /end ID]

When creating my Blaze-focused Sonic Prime AU (more on that in a bit), I took the time to finally take a swing at a design for the Sol Dimension Egg(wo)man I've been contemplating for a while now. I've always been annoyed we've never gotten any female Sol Dimension villains, even though by all rights there should be an abundance of them. Sonic and Tails each get female counterparts with unique designs, personalities, and relationship dynamics, but when it comes to Eggman we get... a palette swap? who isn't even actually from the Sol Dimension?? hello???

I'm still working out her design and personality, but these are some of the concepts I've drawn up so far. the points I am settled on are that she's a rotund older woman with plant-theming. her birth name is Evy Munanev; her villain title is either Dr. Rotbane or Dr. Rotbloom, I haven't decided.

more on the design process below

so. Solegg. my first order of business was swapping out the Egg for something different but adjacent. I picked a seed, which ended up being more of a general plant-theming. I think it could make a nice counterpoint to Eggman's primarily animal-themed robots.

I specifically modeled her after the corpse flower - or rather, corpse flowers, since apparently there are two notable flowers called that, the titan arum and the giant padma. Both are found in Indonesia, fittingly enough, since that's usually the real-world analog I draw on for Blaze's homeland. The top design in the first image is based on the titan arum, while the design at the bottom is based on the giant padma.

for the other elements of her design, I tried matching it to Blaze the same way Eggman's design matches Sonic's. Like how Eggman's primary color is one of Sonic's secondaries (red), Rotbane's primary color comes from Blaze's pink secondaries. Black is her secondary color, same as Eggman, because y'know. Villains.

Finally, the name. As far as Eggman's "real" name goes, the -nik suffix is Slavic/Russian, while Robotnik in particular is a Slavic (specifically Polish) term. apparently. his first name, Ivo, is used in a lot of languages, but if cross-referencing with his relatives, Gerald and Maria, narrows it down to German or Dutch. that said, according to the Sonic wiki the name "Ivo" actually came from a developer's sister's Croatin boyfriend, so. that's a thing. the other factors in the name selection were that it sounds kinda like "evil", as well as being the Latin word for eggs spelled backward.

All that said! I made the Solegg Dutch because of the Indonesia connection. I went with the Dutch name Evy because it also sounds like evil, plus bears some resemblance to ivy. I gave her the last name Munanev, which is venenum (Latin for poison or venom) backwards.

finally, I picked Rotbane as her nickname because it sounds cool, reflects the plant-theming, and has some of the same punchiness as Eggman. I'm also considering Rotbloom, haven't decided yet.

[Image ID: Four black-and-white sketches of Evy Munanev, the OC described above. In the top left Evy in her mohawk-design leans to the side, hips thrust forward and grinning. In the bottom left Evy stands next to an unimpressed (and considerably taller) Eggman, grinning as she strikes a pose. In the bottom right, Evy stands next to Blaze, who is only a little shorter. Evy grins at Blaze while Blaze glares at her, arms folded. Evy's hair is poofier and squarer, like a sleeker beehive. In the top right, Evy has the same square hairdo, but now wears her gas mask as well. /end ID]

[salarta]

hi hi!

is it just me or have i just grown bored of the new x-men 97 show? its just the same all over again with the 90s cartoon, just a few elements changed and ANNOYING cameos. like ffs these cameos are such beloved characters and they sideline them so much.

im a huge polaris fan and the injustice she gets done in TV is just idk-

i dont want lorna to be treated as a side character anymore, she deserves to be a main character for once, especially in the mcu. Its so hard finding people out there who like lorna. they always ask "who is that?“ "oh is that the green wanda?“ or something like that.

in wolverine and the x-men she was just potrayed as this naive little girl. and just deserved so much more screentime.

currently just disliking how they choose to ignore lorna as if she isnt a big part of magnetos story.

Thats all, i would love to hear your thoughts on this <33

I'm responding to your inbox as I read it, so I might say something and then find out you talked about it or it doesn't apply when I get to the next part.

Honestly, I have enough experience now with Marvelthink (since 2009) that I know when they're hyping up a 90s connection like this, it means it's going to be mired in too much nostalgia. So I didn't plan on watching X-Men 97 even before it was announced. That doesn't mean they couldn't have swayed me to change my mind and watch it - I originally avoided Wolverine and the X-Men for overemphasizing Wolverine but came around to it because of good work for Lorna - but I expected bad things and they've proven me right so far.

Lorna's in a better position overall today than she was when I found out about her. It might not seem like it, but more people do know she exists. And before Wanda became more popular and gained more awareness, the more common derogatory comparison was "Magneto with boobs."

I was alright with WatXM. Mainly because a) it was an AU version of her that was younger (I think even younger than when she was introduced in the comics), and b) it hit on the most important character moments and developments for her. She was part of Genosha, she's a survivor of the genocide, she's also Magneto's daughter alongside the twins, etc. I feel she would've had really good development in the seasons to follow if they had happened.

Comparing that to X-Men 97, which is so obsessed with nostalgia and regressive attitudes (even while claiming the mantle of progressive) that they refuse to respect Lorna's character and development beyond that framework. Beau DeMayo and his people on the show made it very clear that they see Lorna primarily as a supporting character for Havok on X-Factor. Which is quite frankly also mired in sexism even if they tell themselves they can't be sexist, "I treated this other female character well so I can't be sexist," etc.

Another person I chatted with elsewhere mentioned that since Beau DeMayo was fired before the cartoon started airing, maybe the new showrunner will fix the damage Beau did and do things right. It's a possibility, but I only see it really working out if the cartoon acknowledges Lorna as a survivor of the Genoshan genocide by middle of season 2 AND gives that story a lot more space than it would've had if they had simply acknowledged it in season 1. My comparison point is Barb from Stranger Things. The Stranger Things showrunners didn't realize how much people would care about Barb, and committed to giving her more respect in the second season.

Overall, I think X-Men 97 is run by people who have their heads stuck in the past, willing to exploit newer material like the Genoshan genocide to get more buzz but not actually respect its weight and dimensions in any truly substantial way.

Which, on that note, another common thing people often say to try to defend shit like what X-Men 97 pulled is to tell themselves and others that what was done in that depiction is the best it could've been done. The reality in cases like this is it could've been done a hell of a lot better, but being an uncritical fan puts blinders on a person. Don't wanna end up in a position where they have to critically think about the content beyond absorbing and loving it, don't have to understand why other people would have a problem with how things were done.

I think that's all I've got for now. Hopefully the new showrunner doesn't suck ass like Beau, and hopefully the MCU cares more about quality and care where Lorna can come into it than about feeding nostalgia boners of people who don't want to move past where their heads were at 30 years ago.