#legion eyes series

[lemonyinks]

PT. 1 of Drawing Legionnaires eyes: Jenni

ref/inspo (i think its a makeup add lmao)

Also inspired by @/ maxinstoresnow's jenni design, which I love very much

[darrisgrove]

All I can think about while reading The Eye of the World.

[apricotatsea]

Rereading some percy jackson and it's weird that he implies that a) the civil war was a manifestation of a war between the 2 demigod camps and then his black characters (or any of the other ones but specifically in this case) have no thoughts about that at all (especially when I THINK we're supposed to think the Roman camp was on the confederate side and that's where the one black POV character lives!) and b) that the gods are on separate sides of wwii and therefore some of them are supporting the nazis- I get why, like what he was trying to do with the world building, but sometimes trying to tie your fantasy characters into ALL human conflicts has weird implications

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

OMG I have an idea

What if a villain hit reader with a love potion and the Yandere JL has to deal with reader being obsessed with one of them until it wears off🙏🙏😭(I LITERALLY LOVE YOUR YAN JL WORKDGHBJB)

A Day in Life: Love Pollen

Synopsis: A day in your life where you get hit with love pollen, get kidnapped, and are rescued by the Justice League.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader

Tw: 18+; PDA; Dry humping; Kinda public sex bc they're in a deserted island’s beach, so it's basically out in the open but no one’s around; Dubcon/noncon bc, you know, love-and-kinda-sex pollen; Also maybe drugging bc of that; Writer is the Justice League's weakness; Hal Jordan is a little shit; Needles; English is not my 1st language.

Word count: 2,1k

Requested? Yes.

Extra notes: I imagine the League’s marketing will have a hard time after this little stunt, I mean, there's no way no one caught that on camera

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

The Legion of Doom had a plan. They invaded a political event in Metropolis, with the presence of the Justice League as the president’s security team, the League being the target. First, Poison Ivy release pollen throughout the whole city, as a distraction, making people hallucinate that they were in love with one another. Crazy in love. It would be okay, if her experiment didn't cause chaos. All over the streets, some people were having sex out in the open, some were fighting and killing because of jealousy and cheating, some were committing robberies to give their “loved ones”. It was pure chaos and only the quick reflexes, powers and gadgets from the League spared the team from getting hit.

Half the team went to deal with the distraction, saving and restraining people, giving them the antidote, etc. The other half, took care of the villains. After a few hours, the Legion of Doom was taken down and the city’s security and health workers took over the job, the chaos being a lot easier to contain since they were spreading the antidote through the air, it would take at least an hour to spread it throughout the whole city, and then the ones who somehow weren't able to breath it, but mostly, just the mess left behind was the real issue.

You were standing with the rest of the crew on the event, watching the League and the politicians discoursing for the press and TV. When the mayhem started, for the first few seconds, you got startled and froze. Looking between the League, the scared crowd, and the villains invading the place. Suddenly, you breathed some thick smoke and your eyes shot to the heroes, silently urging them to do something, when your eyes locked on Green Lantern’s, the pollen’s effect kicked in. You got dizzy, something snapped, and then everything changed.

Wait, when did Green Lantern's jaw got so sharp? And his muscles so defined? Oh, and he was so big and tall. Did he do something to his hair? Wow, his ring is glowing now and he's flying. He's so cool and powerful. A true hero. Shit, he's coming in my direction. Hehe, he's using a construct to lift me and my coworkers to a safer place as if it was nothing. Imagine flying with him every day. How does he look without the mask? Ugh, must be perfect, if his jaw and lips were anything to go by. I can't even see the color of his eyes! And- and please stop looking me in the eyes and touching my shoulders and asking me if I'm okay, of course I am, I'm with you. No. Nooo. Come back here! Let the others deal with the bad guys, I'm right hereee! Nooooo!

You were depressed and deflated the whole time your soulmate was away. A journalist team from outside the city arrived at some point and you were able to watch the fight — Normally, Lois Lane would do the transmission, but she's too busy making out with her cameraman, she was in the crowd too. —. You started crying watching your lover fighting with Sinestro. When he won, and everything was fine, was when you finally calmed down and just started anxiously waiting while ignoring your colleagues strange antics, one of them even hitting on you. Didn't she know you and Green Lantern were in love?

When the League was back, the paramedics were starting to give the crew the antidote, you were next in line, however, as soon as you saw the heroes, you broke into a sprint.

— Green! — You yelled, catching everyone off guard. Even more so when you jumped and hooked your legs around the brunette’s waist, your arms around his neck, and kissed him passionately.

Hal was so shocked that it took him two seconds to reciprocate the kiss, ignoring completely the gasps from his friends. You moaned against his lips, mumbling a jumbled mess of “I love you”, “I missed you”, “was so worried”, “so glad you're back”.

Someone groaned.

— Batman, just give them that damn antidote before I lose it. — Batman grunted and Hal struggled but managed to separate your faces for a moment. You tried to push your face towards his again, but he grabbed your jaw. You kept forcing your face against his hand and whining. It was really cute, and your willingness and the previous sensation of your lips ignited something in his belly, yet, he looked to the side just in time to see Batman preparing the needle, the rest of the League sulking on the side and glaring at him.

His mind worked rapidly, ignoring the texture of your soft lips pampering kisses against the skin of his hand. When he felt the tip of your tongue, he made a decision.

A bad one.

— Yeah. I don't think so. — Green Lantern conjured several chain constructs, chaining the League's arms and ankles to the ground. It wouldn't hold off the ones like Superman and Wonder Woman who were strong enough to break it, and Martian Manhunter who could just invade his mind or use his intangibility, Flash was also pretty capable of taking him on, but Hal was smart and sagacious. Still holding you, he made a rocket construct around you both and took off.

Really, a terrible idea.

Superman and Wonder Woman, in a cry of rage, broke the chains. Diana unsheathed her sword, her feet not even touching the ground anymore, flying, ready to go after the traitor. Martian passed through the construct, while Superman went to break Batman and Aquaman free, Flash vibrated fast to rearrange his particles and also escaped.

— We need a plan. — Batman’s voice stopped the amazon warrior from going in a hunt for blood. He was already stressing over what the marketing team could do to fix this.

— A plan? We can defeat the enemy and retreat my darling if we go now! — Wonder Woman barked.

— Green Lantern is impulsive. If we go now we can destroy the whole state and hurt (Y/N) in the process. He won't give them up easily.

— Batman's right. — Superman agreeds. — Flash, follow them and see where they’re going. — The speedster nodded and took off.

Barry shook his head, cursing his idiot best friend the whole way.

Between the whole team, Hal was clearly the only one who would be okay with you falsely loving them. The rest wanted something more genuine for you. Some of them would settle for you not loving them as much as they loved you, some wanted you to feel exactly the same amount of what they felt. Hal still loved you just like them, but he always had that certain level of insecurity that craved to be better than anyone, to impress, making everything a competition, and the sensation of being the only one to have you could certainly cloud his judgment and accept your love, even if fake. He just thought he could compensate by treating you the right way, and not just using that opportunity to do whatever he wanted with you, just because he could and you wouldn't complain. He could make this about you both, and not just about him.

Either way, every one of them (thought) they deserved their fair chance at winning you over.

— Manhunter, can you still read his mind and tell what he is thinking? — Manhunter nodded and his eyes started glowing, there was a second of silence before he spoke.

— It's getting weaker as he gets more distant. It's purely impulsive thinking. Green Lantern isn't considering the consequences and means no harm against Earth or us. — Batman nodds.

— That's a shame. I mean harm. — Wonder Woman mutters, Batman glared and Superman side-eyed her. Batman turned his communication on.

— Flash, tell us when they stop moving.

— If he touches them, I will personally kill him. — Aquaman darkly states. Superman took a step in his direction, facing him head on.

— No, you won't. — The two stared at one another intently, until Batman broke the silence.

— Focus. We don't have time for this. — The dark knight stated.

— We need to be collected and work as a team to act smoothly on our plan. — Martian reminds them. Wonder Woman steps down again and sheats her sword. They all form a circle and start planning.

The sky was never this blue and the sand never this warm and soft. Even with the warmth of the sun being so intense, you were laying on a palm tree's shadow, and the air was flowing just fine. What was actually making you sweat was the dry humping you and your soulmate were doing.

You don't remember ever getting so aroused in your whole life, and can't remember ever desiring someone so much. You could kill someone if they dared to try and steal him away from you.

Hal felt you carding your fingers through his hair and pull slightly, giving him shiver, and he squeezed the flesh of your hips. You moaned against his lips at a particularly stronger wave of pleasure. The clothes were a curse, stopping you from feeling the real him, so you desperately started clawing at his clothes. Green Lantern breathily chuckled.

— Relax, hot stuff, we have time… — He whispers with a smirk. The man held your hands and laid them on the ground, above your head. You just moaned, more needy, and pushed your hips against his, eliciting a hiss from his red and swollen lips.

His hands started unbottoning your shirt and freeing the fabric out of your pants. You kept your hands were they were and watched, eyes wide open, when he descended kisses from the middle of your chest, going south, only pausing at your waistband.

As much as you wanted to feel his mouth more, seeing him so covered and not being able to properly touch him was making you restless, so you sat up, surprising him, and started pulling up the fabric at the back of his neck. Hal chuckled and shook his head, humoring your needs. He helped you take it off, then pushed your own shirt down your arms, until it was off.

You paused, admiring his adonis body. Your heart raced and eyes watered, never having seen something so perfect your whole life. Even his scars were beautiful. His chest hair and happy trail looked really soft and somehow he looked even more muscled, strong and beautiful. You wonder why you rejected him before.

Hal Jordan basked in your amazed gaze, loving to show off, especially while doing nothing. He frowned weakly, and gave a reassuring grin when you pouted, slumped and frowned.

— What's this, sweetheart? I thought you were enjoying this. — To lift your mood, he started running his hands up and down your sides.

— I wanted to see your face… — Hal remained silent for a few seconds. They would tell you their identities eventually, and that fact kept being brought up on reunions. They all knew at some point, you would have to know, to really start a relationship, yet, Batman, and his paranoia, kept them all from telling you. Sometimes, it felt like a sabotage, but mostly, it made sense, since the guy had a bunch of kids, who could be in danger if the information somehow got leaked, still, you couldn't trust to let them in, if they didn't let you in. That was the only reason you didn't trust them, of course.

Also, a face was not a name. Hal wasn't famous, so how bad could it be? Especially if it would turn you on so much, and when you looked so damn cute. His own lust was also influencing his critical thinking, which was already second place to his impulsiveness.

Hal bit his lower lip and brought his face closer to yours, a few centimeters away from having your noses touching.

— Okay… Take it off… — You let out a happy squeal and reached up with both hands. Your heart pounded with anticipation, making you go slower to savor the intimacy even more. Hal closed his eyes when he felt the gentle tug, against his wishes to watch your eagerness and your lip biting in anticipation. His heart was also pounding.

You saw his right eye closed and his thick eyebrow, when suddenly, a loud noise rang out, scaring the shit out of you and prompting Hal to fix the mask again, get up and assess for danger.

He finally fell to his senses and realized something.

He just took the worst decisions ever.

Everything happened too fast. Flash was on your side, holding a needle to your arm, and Green Lantern was being thrown around by a red and blue blur. Only the feminine rageful scream gave you the hint to who it was.

You got up, ready to die for your soulmate, when the antidote kicked in.

You threw up.

Comment, like and reblog 🥰

DC Taglist:

@wandalfnation @vadersassistant

[juletheghoul]

JULES! It's currently 12:30am and I can't stop thinking about your Marcus gladiator fic. I need to scream this at you.

Picture this:

They are back in Rome. They are in the baths, public or private. I personally picture public ignoring the fact he would definitely get his own bathing area being a successful General but I digress. Someone has had a bit too much wine and gets a little too handsy and rough with his girl. That pisses him off so now he has to take a statement right? You can't touch what's his!

So he calls her into the water with him and has her continue the bathing while sitting on his cock before just eventually destroying her. Bonus points if he makes stoic eye contact with the offending party that started it all.

I cannot get this idea out of my head and I just had to share this with you.

Take care~! ❤️

Nonny - you really came for my fucking throat with this one... 😍😍😍 like... I stared at this with my jaw on the floor - what a mind you have... okay lets get into it

smut under the cut - 18+ and don't read more if you aren't into exhibitionism (not beta'ed and barely proofread lmao)

Series masterlist

---

The campaign was finally over, for now.

He'd marched into the city with his legions behind him, and the streets of Rome roared to herald their victor, the famous, brutal, but efficient, General Marcus Acacius.

He waved, and made the appropriate salutes to the city, but he was sparing with his smiles, his eyes scanning even here in the safety of Rome's breast, for anything that might threaten his safety. You watched him from your place behind him, along with the other slaves that had followed him and his soldiers off to war, invisible in his shadow to anyone but him, and a few brazen few who had decided to test his boundaries. They had been forgotten however, the only thing that occupied your mind, was him.

His first stop had been his villa, to settle his household. It was all very cut and dry, his staff knew to keep his house in order in his absence and they did so, enough that he hadn't even spoken more than a few words while he made his way through. While he set about getting settled in, you did the same, moving silently through his halls towards your modest quarters. The road had been long, and you thought that you could probably get away with bathing, and taking a few moments to yourself, trusting that now he would be well attended to.

You barely got your bearings when he cleared his throat at your door.

"Apologies Dominus, did you want for something?"

"Gather your things, we go to the baths."

-

The baths, strictly speaking, were for everyone. There were certain ones however, like the one you were in now, that were privately owned. This one, was owned by a member of the Senate and friend to the Roman army, and as such, was populated by a few other soldiers, and their attendants.

Marcus spoke very little by nature, he was a man who kept his words as close as he did his coin. He said even less when confronted with raucous laughter, and men who couldn't seem to keep their dignity when taking a cup of wine.

His jaw clenched as you both settled into the warm waters of the baths and you set about washing the march and the war and the violence off of his skin, sitting behind him to rub the knots from his shoulders while ignoring the ever increasingly loud soldiers around you. One of them, was the same that had tested his patience in his tent, and by the way he kept eyeing Marcus in front of you, had forgotten the lesson.

"The oil, girl." He spoke low over his shoulder, and you belatedly realized you'd left the oil he liked with the robes when you'd undressed.

"Yes Dominus." WIth haste, and not an ounce of shame, you rose up out of the water and went to grab the vial, finding it quickly, but before you could make it back to him you were cut off.

"I can see why you like this one General, I can see why you're so greedy with her." The same soldier stands in your way, his hands grabbing at your waist. The wine in his cup spills onto your naked skin and for a moment you're afraid he'll paw at you further but within a moment he's as still as a statue. That's when you notice, the deathly hush that falls over the whole place.

You look up into the soldiers face and his eyes are as big as plates, a small dagger pressed to the apple of his throat, the point just deep enough to draw blood. You hadn't heard him come out of the water.

"This is the last warning I give you, the next time you put your hands on what's mine, you will die." His voice was a whisper, but it echoed through the room. "Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

"Ye-yes, Yes General." all humor had gone from the man, and when Marcus had pulled away, all taste for wine had as well.

Wordlessly you followed Marcus back into the water, but instead of sitting in front of you, he pulled you to sit in his lap, keeping his eyes on the spurned soldier.

"I want you sitting like this." His hands settled on your hips and you felt the way he hardened beneath you, "Continue." He spoke low, but clear and kept his eyes focused, daring anyone to question him.

You did your best to focus on washing his hair, on rubbing the oil into the skin of his shoulders and his chest, but his hands wandered, grabbing at your ass and fitting his cock between the lips of your sex, drawing out your arousal and making your pulse quicken. His lips descended next, pressing softly to your shoulder while his eyes remained fixed. WIth a move, he slid his cock inside, pulling a moan from your lips, it only served to bolster him, making no move to conceal what he was doing and you knew it was part frustration from being at war, and driving home his point.

He said nothing, but he didn't need to.

People watched him take you there, in the water, and they said nothing. Any modesty you had, and shame had been worked out of you long ago and now, all you felt was pleasure. Both at him bouncing you on his cock, and at him having taught the soldier a lesson on your behalf. You ignored the part that sang the sweet song of ownership. You were his, and he relished the fact.

"Dominus-" You all but moaned into his ear, "May I have your gift?" You bounced on your own now, holding onto his neck, pressing yourself tightly to him.

"Yes Girl, it's yours, take it." He grit out the words, his eyes finally finding yours. You sped up, using your buoyancy to your advantage, clenching around him on the downstroke and when you felt his hands tighten around your hips you knew you had him.

"May I have your mouth, Dominus?" You watched his lips as you bounced, and he smiled a tiny smile before claiming your kiss with the same ardor that burned in your veins.

His tongue licked into your mouth and within a moment you felt the first spurt of him, deep inside where he liked it to be.

After a few minutes you made to move but his hands held you tightly. You took a look around, but unbeknownst to you, the baths had emptied and you were alone.

"I did not feel you flutter, and I am not yet clean."

---

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[sweet-honey-fruit]

Wanted

Boothill x reader

Synopsis: Boothill has a wanted poster with your face on it

This is a snippet from what I was going to do. I might turn this into a series.

Warnings: boothill typical violence, cussing, boothill’s substitute cuss words, use of guns, mentions of splattered brains (but doesnt happen)

Masterlists: xxx

Out of bullets. Out of backup. Shit shit shit. You’re normally better than this. You are better than this. You wouldn’t have secured a job to personally work beside the Ten Stonehearts if you sucked at it. So why now? When it truly mattered, why start losing grip now?

The hallway on the space station was long and agonizing. It’s slim but somehow you still feel like prey in an open field. The grip you have on your gun is tight despite the blasphemous thing being out of ammo. How the metal is digging into the palm of your hand is the only thing keeping you grounded and focused. Focused on making it to the safe room. Focused on sending out that distress signal. Focused on the little hope you have left. Just focus.

The distant sound of gunshots urges you to run faster. Each round of shots fuels not only your need to escape but your overwhelming guilt as well. Normally you stay back and handle the threat. You stay back to help your agents and get them to safety. That's what you wanted to do. Yet the sight of seeing bodies upon bodies being thrown to the side by him, you started to, selfishly, second guess if you should.

What pushed you to get out was Jade's voice speaking through your earpiece. She specifically ordered you to run and to get to the safe room. She all but hinted that this was surely a fight you couldn’t win and you needed to get out now. She's normally calm and collected, tactical and calculating. Jade isn't one to order you to retreat for she has trust in your abilities. So when she told you to run, you ran like hell was after you.

For once, you prayed to the Amber Lord. Praying that your colleagues will make it out alive. Although, you doubted that.

The weight of your conscious is almost enough to weigh down your speed but once the familiar doors of the safe room enter your sight, all weight is washed away and it’s replaced with relief.

Finally, after minutes of running and dodging bullets, you’ve made it. You take deep breaths to calm your breathing as a shaky hand swipes your keycard over the mechanical padlock. With a loud beep that makes you internally cuss it out, you slip into the room. The moment the door shuts you collapse to your knees.

“Holy fuck.” You mumble, letting out a nervous laugh. Your gun clatters to the floor beside you as your hand loses the strength to continue the death grip. You run your hand over your uniform to try and soothe the ache that replaces the cold metal. What a shit show.

You have faced an astronomical amount of enemies throughout your line of work. Anywhere from the Anti-Matter Legion to Galaxy Rangers. All of them were a pain to deal with, sure, but this? This is something different. You have never seen someone so precise, so quick with a gun, and so cocky. Recalling everything just made your blood boil. It’s not even because he ambushed your crew. It was more of the fact that he was moonwalking while doing so. Honestly, who acts so casually in a fight?

Pass it off with humor all you want, but you know exactly why you’re left shaken. This was the work of one individual. The same individual that made eye contact with you in the lobby. His grin widened when you locked eyes, and his bullseye pupils seemed to have made you the target. It was chilling. The way your body tensed and the hairs on the back of your neck stood was foreign to you. You’re normally the hunter but in the moment you felt like prey. That feeling was followed up by Jade's command and it felt too much like an omen. Like all of this was for you. All of this was because of you.

You shake your head to get rid of those thoughts. No. There’s no reason why you should dwell on the situation. Only doing so will drag you down. With weakened legs you stand, stumbling over to the command terminal to send a distress signal out. You hesitate for a moment as you stare down at the screen. The blinking red of the button haunted your memory.

The bodies of your coworkers. The blood of the agents you were supposed to watch over on Jade's behalf. The screams of pain and terror as they tried to take down the threat that snuck onboard. No matter how hard you try, you can't push down that culpability. Your mind races at a million miles per hour, from one thought to the next, all about your irresponsibility. You tried to save who you could. You tried to take down the threat yourself. You shot so, so many bullets all for naught. Then he looked at you. Made a beeline for you. Was he here for you? Was this all your fault? Where did you go wrong? Why didn't you try harder to save the agents that were trusted to your care? Are you even worthy of saving?

Your breath hitches at the last question.

'Am I worth saving?'

Even so, that decision isn't up to you. It's up to the Ten Stonehearts. With reluctance, you press the button. There's a gentle ping that was supposed to reassure you that the distress signal was successfully sent. But all it did was make your gut twist with anguish. It shouldn't only be you in this room.

Your sorrowful eyes stare out the window with a glaze. In all of your times of need, it has always been the stars that brought you comfort. Always a shining, shimmering light in the dreadful place of your mind. For the first time since this morning, your mind goes quiet as you imagine yourself walking among the stars. You enjoy the tranquility of the safe room, taking the opportunity to worship the silence. No screaming, no commands, no gunshots.

Wait.

.

.

.

No gunshots.

Your moment of peace is ripped out of your hands and replaced with your heart dropping. Your breathing stops and slowly, ever so, you turn your head to look behind you.

Oh fuck.

There he is in all of his cowboy glory. The barrel of his gun is pointed right between your eyes and there isn’t a hint of hesitation on his face.

“Don’t tell me ya hidin’ from my welcome party.” His thick southern accent lays on thick at the realization of it all; you haven’t been fucked like this in a long time. Your gun is left on the floor. Even if it is out of ammo, you still could’ve potentially used it as an empty threat. You quite literally backed up against a wall. Alone. The only exit is being blocked by the blood-thirsty cyborg man in front of you. There’s no one left to provide backup.

That feeling creeps up your spine again as his eye pierces through you, just itching to pull the trigger on you.

"Is this what they consider southern hospitality?" You sarcastically ask, a glare settling into your eyes in hopes of masking that premonition deep within your bones.

There's a skip of a beat in your heart when there’s silence. A thick, heavy silence that only grows louder the longer you stare down the barrel of the pistol. It’s only broken by his boisterous laugh. A laugh that feels mocking. A laugh that makes you feel offended that you opened your mouth. You go from scared, to confused.

“Oh shucks! You got me gatherin’ tears in my eye! Holy fudgin shirt on a rag! It’s been a while since I had someone tell me a one-liner like that. You’re a hoot and a holler!”

He finds this humorous. He has a gun pointed between your eyes, eager to splatter your brains across the window behind you, and he finds this funny. You go from scared, to livid.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Ha! At least one of us can say it-“

“Are you fucking serious? You murdered my coworkers, you’re threatening me, and you’re laughing?”

“Don’t go actin’ all high and mighty now, you IPC scum.” His mood switch gave you whiplash. What was once a lighthearted tone was turned into a low growl. He took one step forward, then another, and another until his chest was pressed up against yours. His breath fans over your face. Your back presses up against the command terminal. The soft red blinking of the distress button reflects off the shiny metal of the gun as he presses it against your forehead. Even so, the indignation coursing through your body is enough to fuel a stellaron.

“You shouldn’t be acting all righteous either. Wanted criminals don’t deserve to act so pompous.” You snap back, huffing out a breath.

“So ya know who I am?”

“Unfortunately.”

Boothill might as well be a cursed name among the IPC. A name that brings both fear and a migraine. You never had the courtesy to meet him until now. His wanted poster has been sitting on your desk for a while along with his list of crimes. The stack was so big that his crimes were used as a paperweight for a while. While he was annoying, the Ten Stonehearts put you on missions that were ‘more important.’ His information served more as a warning rather than a task.

Now you regret not going after him when you got the chance.

“It appears my ruckus has paid off.” He whispers, lowering the gun. You had a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, that that was a sign he was leaving. That the distress signal wasn’t needed after all. He only allowed you enough relief to let out a shaky sigh.

The tip of the gun is pressed under your chin, tilting your head back to fully look up at his smug smirk.

“It’s a shame your wanted poster says wanted alive.”

Your eyes widen in his swift movements. With harsh movements, he slams the grip against your temple. There’s a burning, aching pain that spreads throughout your head and down the back of your neck. Your body falls to the floor with a harsh thud. You couldn’t help but think this is what you deserved for failing them all.

‘Am I worth saving?’ It appears the universe made that decision before your higher-ups.

Boothill kneels beside you, placing his gun back into his holster.

“Don’t ya worry. Ima take good care of ya.”

[relax-and-read-on]

I have not made made a generic hc post about the primarch in a LONG time. I miss it, and it's good for the warhammer tumblr ecosystem. So, without further waiting....

Primarch, and the absolutely shitty gifts they give each others for a White Elephants gift exchange

Roboute: A classic coffee mug (primarch sized!) Filled with sweets and a indestructible fancy fountain pen. The mug say "World Most Okay Dad" on it, and he joke that it apply to them all.

Lion: a stuffed bird. The number of eyes on it is vaguely unnerving. It's unclear wich way is the head suppose to go, and all agree that it's probably an awful mutant bird. Lion is too proud to admit that it's just a really shotty taxidermy he made himself.

Alpharius Omegon: They give a series of mysterious CD in blank case, wich is a very rare and hard to read format on most ship! It's the entire series of MLP:FiM, famous lost media in the 30th millenium.

Rogal: A thick, sturdy, and perfectly elegant multi bit screwdriver, with extra standard bits put in the handle. Give a proud presentation on it, explaining it's superior design and all it's ergonomic features. It's 45 min long.

Perturabo: it's a coupon that say "one (1) construction from me and my legion, free of complaining. Valid until the 31th millenium." It's the most popular gift of the night.

Corvus: slipper and kigurumi, all crow themed. They are *adorable*. Sadly, the size is a bit tight and vaguely indecent on the more muscular primarch.

Lorgar: a traditional colchian tea set, with hand dried craft teas! The set is beautiful, and the teas prove to be only mildly hallucinogenic.

Konrad: A very, VERY pretty embroidered set of throw pillow! They have delicate pattern of flower and nature imagery... And are made with human hair. Konrad is very proud of himself, and even more of the absolute bloody screaming his gift create when he explain it.

Sanguinius: put out by Konrad's gift, but he also made a pillow, but this one filled with his own feathers. Has surprising property against nightmare.

Vulkan: He was actually sweet, and brought homemade hot sauce, his mother's recipe! The problem is that the stuff is so strong, it's considered a dangerous chemical in most of the galaxy. Can be used as jet fuel.

Horus: Edible sexy underwear. Insist that whoever gets it has to wear it, and jokingly say that, if they are too shy, he can do a demonstration himself.

Mortarion: a succulent growing kit. Even his most dumbasses of brother should be able to keep a succulent alive, right? Doesn't mention that it's an highly invasive species that will colonise the entire ship of his poor victime.

Jaghatai: a foal. Yes, he carry a whole ass live animal to the gift exchange, and keep insisting that it's an appropriate gift. The horse is chewing on Magnus' hair.

Leman: Mad that he didn't think of bringing a puppy, but he has the most amazing looking collection of smoked salmon, caviar and preserved fish to offer.

Magnus: his patience is wearing thin, but he still offer a perfectly beautiful robe, that act as an honest to good mood ring and change color depending on the person's aura.

Fulgrim: A painting of himself! Wich is actually a joke, it's just a thin and hand painted decorative paper covering the true gift: a painting of all their family, together. Get called a try hard.

Ferrus: a collection of very pretty crystals and fossils! Wich he arranged in a chocolate box, and explain that those are his favorite flavors.

Angron: A punching bag that even *he* find durable. He made sure of it, by thoroughly testing it before giving it out, wich explain it's used appearance.

I know exactly who gets what..... Yall want to know in a part 2 ;)?

[hedwig221b]

Hedwig!! I love your fics so much, no one else does Sterek like you🤞

This is so random but I’ve been craving some outsider POV fics of you have any recommendations:)

P.S. I love Eros Mania Amor and it definitely inspired this request lol

Hi! Thank you so much! 💗 Here are some of my faves:

Oblivious Misadventures, and Other Such Tales by Little Spoon (JaydenNara)

Going to college was exciting and new, a chance for new friends and a fresh start, and the best part was, there was a supernatural fraternity on campus, meaning Scott finally had the freedom to be himself.

Then he met the resident human who came with a stalker alpha. What was the point of a supernatural fraternity if he still had to pretend to be human. And seriously, did Stiles ever fall asleep somewhere normal?

the demon slayer by the_problem_with_stardust

Jaz sighs, leaning back against her alpha. “They’re going to tear us apart.”

“No they won’t. Alpha Hale is an honorable man.” Maria presses a wry smile into her mate's neck. “It’s literally the only thing every other pack we’ve met with has agreed on.”

“But his Emissary…” Jaz swallows hard, trying not to think of the stories they’ve heard. Stories of a man who banished a legion of demons to hell, using only the force of his will.

A Spotter's Guide to the North American Werewolf Hunter by wearingthelilac

Dealing with a hunter roommate was not covered in the student handbook.

Or the one where Stiles' college roommate is a werewolf and thinks Stiles is a hunter.

Is This Seat Taken? Only By My Delusions by SylvieW

An unknown werewolf and his mate move to Beacon Hills and the McCall pack isn’t sure what to expect from them. They discover that while Derek isn’t a problem, Stiles might be.

Scotty didn't know by Smowkie

Scott was confused. They both smelled almost horny, except not really sexual, more like in awe, and they kept approaching each other, complimenting each other, and-. Derek lifted a hand, gently touched Stiles’ cheek.

“Do the eye thing again,” he murmured, and Stiles’ smile was huge as his eyes turned white.

“What the fuck,” Scott said faintly, but no one seemed to notice him.

The life of the irresistibly oblivious Stiles series by Nosiddam1

Just a series of cute fluffy one shots where Stiles is irresistible or oblivious or both and who only has eyes for Derek.

Fell In Love With A Boy by beekayem

When Sera moved to Beacon Hills she met the man of her dreams. Stiles Stilinski her next door neighbour with extraordinary cooking and baking skills and a smile that just melts her heart. He was perfect.

He was also married…to a man. Who may or may not be her boss.

Life was hard.

Too Little Too Late by SolariaLunar21

Danny's always had a secret crush on Stiles Stilinski but never hopes for more until he over-hears Scott and Stiles talking about the other boy coming out to his Dad as bi.

Other fic recs: pack mom!Stiles | angsty fics | possessive Derek | baby/mpreg | historical | smut | mafia | hurt/comfort | magical!Stiles | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | BAMF!Stiles | omegaverse

[moodymisty]

hi! i hope you feel better soon!

i was wondering if you plans for continuing your ‘legions reacting to their primarch’s partner’ series ?

have a good one :) 🐊

Part 1, Part 2

Author's Note: Sure, here's the rest of them :3

Relationships: Implied Leman Russ/Reader, AlphariusOmegon/Reader, Sanguinius/Reader, Lorgar/Reader, Ferrus Manus/Reader, Mortarion/Reader, Jaghatai Khan/Reader, Horus/Reader, Fulgrim/Reader, Corvus Corax/Reader (A NOTE: almost all of these are gender neutral, but a few might have the term mother or another female term in it, so fair warning)

Warnings: None really

➧ Space Wolves:

Pretty average. They're definitely one of the better legions to be around if you're a baseline human, as they're not only pretty chill, but actually somewhat... nice? By Astartes standards.

You enjoy listening to them tell battle stories around the bonfire or whatever you're all camped around, and they like how easy it is to impress you with their feats of strength. Evenings can quickly devolve into one on one duels if you're around, and there's enough Mjød involved. Impressing Wolf Mother with your spur of the moment honor duel is the height of accomplishment, for a hammered Space Wolf.

You would hope Russ would stop these shenanigans, but you’ll find yourself disappointed when he joins in, brawling his own Astartes for your attention that he already has.

They also all find it absolutely hilarious when you use one of their tamed Fenrisian wolves as a mount, as it puts you at eye level with them.

➧ Alpha Legion:

Your relationship with Alpharius & Omegon is as ambiguous as how the Alpha Legion Astartes feel about you.

They don't like the twins having a potential weak spot that can be exploited by enemies, and their myriad of plans and spiderweb of secrets could get easily unraveled; But if the twins brought you into the inner circle, they’ll place trust that they did it for a reason.

It's just a bit, disorienting having so many men- some of which look very similar- coming in and out of your life. The twins know that you can tell them apart from their legion lookalikes (somehow and it pisses them off), but they still find it funny to try and slip things past you.

➧ Blood Angels:

As one of the kinder chapters, you being brought into the fold is of little resistance, largely because they see how happy Sanguinius is when you're around. They may be battle hardened warriors, but they find it difficult to express their worries when their Primarch has never looked happier holding your much tinier hand.

However the Blood Angels already have a protective (border-lining on obsessive) nature with their Primarch, and that is something that now extends in fold to anyone Sanguinius is close to. Being you.

Do not expect to go anywhere with any less than three fully armored Blood Angels. They will glare at anyone who comes close, they will scold anyone who speaks to you without proper prose, and you will have to deal with it. Some may have a developing soft spot for their kind Legion Mother which allows you to order them around, but they are very strict in this regard.

And Sanguinius will not stop it; Because he feels the same way as them, he's just better at hiding it.

➧ Word Bearers:

Largely neutral at first, but over time they begin to warm up to you as Lorgar's loving gazes and borderline worshipping talk wears on them. It also helps that they have some non-violent experience with other humans.

There are some however who don't approve of your closeness to Lorgar; Especially as it becomes more obvious that Lorgar's priorities are changing, and his distractions are getting worse. You becoming the idée fixe of Lorgar's mind is more than a bit concerning for some members of the legion, particularly ones touched by Kor Phaeron.

They hold their tongues, but you know they don't like whenever the two of you are alone. You've heard the word 'temptress' uttered more than once.

➧ Iron Hands:

Extremely blunt, and to the point. like the Imperial Fists, but without the protective streak. Iron Hand brutal efficacy doesn't exactly mix with the slow nurturing of what one could consider romance.

But you show genuine interest in the practices of the legion and don't impede on their chapter traditions, so the Iron Hands suppose it could be worse. They'd much rather their Primarch not be distracted however, and that is a theme that will remain present in any conversation regarding you for a long while. Expect them to basically ignore you for the first portion of your relationship with Ferrus.

Rude...

➧ Death Guard:

The Death Guard are one of the legions that is definitely more conflicted about the whole thing.

On one hand they say that he will end up distracted, eyes pulled away from his crusade to more frivolous things like romance. But on the other hand, if it does away with some of Mortarion's depressive moue, then they can bite their tongues about it. Either way, they definitely aren't fans of it, and you'll more than hear about it.

Legion meetings are, more than a bit stressful. Mortarion often times comes back ragged and angry after being told he should be rid of you.

Things are strained. You hope they'll level out with time.

➧ White Scars:

Probably one of the better legions to be in. Helps that they don't despise baseline humans, and actually know how to smile sometimes.

It's refreshing to be around Astartes who are a little less, stuck up, something you say under your breath not long after being officially introduced to them. They find it absolutely hilarious.

You have a few Astartes you're a bit more familiar with that Jaghatai trusts to be your personal guard, in the rare moments he isn't close. Pretty chill all around.

Unless there's about seven of them all eagerly surrounding you trying to teach you different Chogoran words, then it's significantly less chill.

Also jetbike rides sound rad af

➧ Luna Wolves:

They have their doubts as all legions do, but given Horus' charisma it isn't long before they toss those doubts aside, and quickly welcome you into the fold at Horus' side.

Also similar to the Blood Angels in that they get near feral protecting their genefather's beloved. It's like his obsessive nature somehow has somehow manifested or has been genetically implanted in them. Horus always makes sure you have a guard at your side, no matter where you go.

It was all fine at first, but now you're beginning to feel a bit like a prisoner.

➧ Raven Guard:

The Raven Guard are pretty tame all things considered. While conversations tend to be respectfully brief, you've noticed overtime that it's less so disinterest, and more a so near nervous formality. It's almost like they don't know how to talk to a baseline human woman for more than a few moments. It's, cute.

Nykona doesn't seem to mind you though; Largely because he overheard you mumble that you think his armor is the most impressive out of all of the Raven Guard Astartes during a sparring session between him and Corax.

Overall, they’re happy Corvus is happy, and as long as his main mission isn’t compromised, they’re content to have you here.

While most legions say ‘Legion Mother’ however, the Raven Guard tend to use the title ‘Raven Mother’ instead when being formal. When they started saying that instead of just legion mother, you noticed how it intertwines with how they refer to Corvus.

Once you realized you got a little bit too excited they’d finally started accepting you, and scared the shit out of no less than three guards by abruptly crying.

➧ The Emperor's Children:

They do enjoy being around humans that can appreciate the arts, and they don't hold much ill will towards you as the jewel of their Primarch's eye. If anything, they seem almost pleased their Primarch is able to pursue such things. You're welcomed into the fold with little fanfare, and Legion business continues on with nary a peep about Fulgrim's new wife.

Many of them create things for you, which while incredibly sweet, makes Fulgrim a little miffed if you show too much joy about it. He just gets a bit jealous, but it's harmless. You find it kind of cute.

[thefiery-phoenix]

YANDERE TONY STARK HEADCANONS

Tony as a yandere would be calculating, EXTREMELY possessive, a manipulative and obsessive one too and it's all for the best in his eyes

He'd first meet you at a party or something like that. You weren't like those other types of people, shallow and self centered. The way you just... blended with the flow and you were super chill about it was intriguing to him. So he came up to you and when you suddenly tripped on your shoe lace/ heel, he caught you by our waist as you spilled your drink on him . You apologized profusely and grabbed a few tissues from somewhere and offered to help him but he just brushed it off telling you it was no problem

May or may not send JARVIS to spy on you just to know 'if your safe of not' and heck, he'll even find a way to hack into ALL your accounts you never told a single soul about and YES that even includes that Wattpad and Tumblr account too. He'll keep track of all your social media and if he sees anyone trying to flirt with you or something, he'll either end up blocking them or send JARVIS or his Iron Legion or deal with those clowns. He needs his daily dosage of hourly updates on you so he knows you're safe or he'll freak

He knows you like the back of his hand and probably much more than you know about yourself. He can read you like an open book, always calculating and interpreting your next move

He tries being subtle with you first, trying to gain and get your attention with gifts and all that romantic shit, but he grows puzzled and confused when you keep on rejecting him. He gets upset and startled when you call him a 'Playboy' and he'll do something completely IRRATIONAL like kidnapping you. Ah yes, the most easiest way to deal with problems when it comes to yanderes

But he'll never yell or raise his hands on you and make you do things you aren't comfortable with. He has a lot of respect for you and literally DROWNS in his respect women juice. He will spoil you rotten till no ends. Want that new book series that got released? Don't worry, he's already called ahead and made sure those guys have a separate stock ready for you. Want your favorite snack? It's already there sitting beside your bed table

When you act up or try running away from him, he'll be heartbroken and disappointed like a dad. He'll restrict you from using your favorite items for a while and then he'll just cuddle you and kiss you saying he really loves you and not to scare him or do something like that again

If someone tries harming you that fool who decided to do something as stupid and dangerous as that would literally pay with their lives no joke. He'll be bashing them up till they bleed and after he's done torturing them, he'll kill them. No one messes with the love of his life and TF away with it

Man has ABSOLUTE power that can even ruin people's lives if necessary

Just listen to him before he does something really irrational like killing your friends because they're ''taking'' you away from him

[lemonyinks]

PT. 7 of Drawing Legionnaires eyes: Luornu

plus the single colour versions

[darrisgrove]

The Eye of the Wheel NOTES

-"Why did you have to keep doing something just because it had always been done that way?"

-Ravens chapter done. I never knew reading about village life, sheering sheep, and carrying water to and from a river would be so interesting.

-Shai'tan sounds kind of like Satan.

-"As the Wheel of Time turns, places wear many names. Men wear many names, many faces. Different faces, but always the same man. Yet no one knows the great Pattern the Wheel weaves, or even the Pattern of an Age. We can only watch, and study, and hope."

"In wars, boy, fools kill other fools for foolish causes."

-"The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills."

-What happened to Tam is gonna make me cry.

-It's really scary to think that the boys wanted to go find trollocs when they were kids know that we know what trollocs can really do. Those boys would never have made it back alive had they actually gone.

-Gods I love Thom. I'm sure he's not a major character, but I have enjoyed his appearance since the moment he arrived.

-Are Paet al'Caar and Aemon al Caar al Thorin related?

-Moiraine dropping the fact that they will be running and hiding for the rest of their short lives was kind of a slap in the face. And they had no reaction to it at all.

-The rats died with broken backs. That's a fun nod.

-Images seen around the characters by Min: Lan: 7 ruined towers around his head, a baby in a cradle holding a sword. Thom: a man, not him, juggling fire, a white tower. Perrin: a wolf, a broken crown, flowering trees. Mat: a red eagle, an eye on a balancing scale, a dagger with a ruby, a horn, and a laughing face. Rand: a sword that isn't a sword, a golden crown of laurel leaves, a beggar's staff, pouring water on sand, a bloody hand and a white hot iron, three women standing over a funeral bier with him on it, black rock wet with blood, lighting around him both striking him or coming out of him.

-I like Thom :)

-Shadar Logoth.

[helvegen-s]

Rage, rage | one

index

Pairing: Azriel x Hybern!Princess!OC

Summary: Nimue was a gift for the King of Hybern. His shining jewel, the perfect heir. However, she is clear about who the villain of the story is. When she saves her father's enemies from a tragic end, she realizes that now it's the Cauldron who has a gift for her: a mate.

Warnings: PTSD, description of injuries, bad language, the King of hybern (jumpscare), if there is anything more, please let me know.

A/N: so here it is, the first part. I really hope you enjoy it and that you get to love Nimue just as much as I do. Any kind of support is greatly appreciated! 🥰

Standing in the middle of that enormous training ground, Nimue counted the scars on her hands one by one: first her left hand, tracing each one with her right thumb; then her right hand, tracing each one with her left thumb. It had become a ritual, something that anchored her back to the physical world, slowly pulling her away from her daydreams.

Once again, she felt the weight of her body on her own bones, on her own muscles. A couple of deep breaths, and with the short sword in her hand, she began the series of exercises again. The same series of exercises as yesterday, the day before, and for the last twenty years.

Twenty years in which Nimue had grown accustomed to her new life. New, because she knew she had always been there, inside the Cauldron, and against her will those hands had torn her away from her place, her home. She had ended up in Hybern, locked in a castle and with a princess title she didn't know where it came from, as she shared no genetic bond with the man who called himself her father, the King of Hybern.

The King of Hybern, who with the Cauldron in his hands and desperate to conceive a powerful heir, had submerged his poor and naive concubine in the poisonous water of the Cauldron. The woman, pregnant with the king's offspring and terrified of disobeying the cruel king's orders, obeyed.

Thus, the liquid of the Cauldron separated skin from muscle, muscle from tendon, tendon from bone, and the poor woman who screamed dissolved like salt in water. Before the eyes of the entire court, the King had burned one of his concubines alive, and in return, a young girl had emerged from the Cauldron. Nimue, The Radiant, the daughter of the king, created by the Cauldron.

Nimue knew all this because in the depths of her bones, and only when she let her guard down, she felt the despair of her mother when she was submerged. If she closed her eyes and concentrated, she could feel her own muscles dissolving, melting, the bones crunching and bursting, the muffled screams, the life of the poor woman extinguishing.

That only filled her with rage. A rage that boiled inside her, in every fiber of her being. Sometimes she let it grow, let it spread through every drop of her blood, like poison disguised in wine: she shaped it to her liking, gave it the form she wanted. She shaped her rage into swords, laying waste to entire legions with her rage, burning entire forests with her rage...

One could only imagine that in the face of such destruction, her "father" would be angry. No one wanted a daughter who killed hundreds of soldiers every time she trained. However, the reaction was completely opposite: a smile, some congratulations, a pat on the back, a kiss on the forehead, a small hug...

Small displays of affection that Nimue drank as if she were dying of thirst. After all, he was her "father".

Children are meant to make their parents proud. Or that's what she told herself every night before falling asleep.

She stopped abruptly before finishing her last set of exercises and looked up.

Above her, in the corridor surrounding that enclosed training ground, courtiers of her father, guards, servants, people who stopped to admire her if they had the time, kept passing by. Sometimes they made comments about the natural grace with which her movements seemed to defy gravity itself. Every gesture of hers was fluid and harmonious, as if she were in perfect harmony with the universe around her. It was so, because after all, the world around her had come from the Cauldron. And she was the Cauldron.

Sometimes, however, they made comments about the monster the King had created. An aberration.

With a flick of her wrist, her weapon disappeared into the air, she spun around, and left that training ground. She walked through the halls of the Palace, navigating intersections and crossing doors until she reached the very center of her home. The great stone cavern where the throne was situated. Even before entering, she could hear the voice of the King, and without entering the room, she listened.

"My patience is running out, filthy rats. If you don't know how to do your job, I'll have you thrown to the nagas, and let them do whatever they please with you, you pack of useless scoundrels."

Nimue entered the cavern, her gaze forward and her chin high, those airs of superiority she knew belonged to her. She walked among those present, who made way for her, feeling the hairs on their necks stand at attention in the presence of the princess. With a determined step, she approached her father, who only raised and lowered his eyebrows in response.

"What's the problem, father?" Oh, that mask of innocent girl that many swallowed. She might even dare say that sometimes, the King himself took her for naive, for innocent. When she was anything but, far from it.

She carefully observed the situation: before her father, and kneeling before the steps of the throne, were four of the six spies she knew her father had designated in Prythian, specifically in the Night Court. Among them, two bodies completely mutilated, almost unrecognizable. However, Nimue recognized them as the other two spies that were missing. She lifted her head and let the smell of blood penetrate her nose, savoring it on her palate. That's when she noticed the slightest hint of cedar and mist. She frowned and looked at her father.

"It's nothing, my sweet child. I'm just dealing with these useless ones," the King turned sharply towards those men, who, under the scrutiny of father and daughter, only sank deeper into their shame. With their heads bowed to the ground, they trembled so much that Nimue could hear the chatter of their teeth. "Do your job and find out everything. Everything. And if you have to kill that petty High Lord, you will."

Nimue did everything to hide her smile. She knew those four useless men stood no chance against that High Lord her father spoke of. She knew, because in the Cauldron, she saw the shadow of Rhysand: a vast pit, as deep as the greatest of lakes, and as black as darkness itself, so dark that Nimue saw her own scarlet eyes reflected in it.

By the Mother, Nimue doubted if her own father, without the aid of the Cauldron, would be a match for that vast darkness that undulated within High Lord Rhysand.

The King raised his hand, and with a gesture, all those present in the throne room bowed respectfully and left the without a word.

Nimue turned, ready to leave, but the King pointed at her and shook his finger. With the same hand, he made a gesture, as if pulling on a leash.

A leash that Nimue had worn around her neck since she had been torn from the Cauldron, and whose end her father held, with an iron grip. It was invisible, but when she even thought about how happy it would make her to leave the confines of the Palace, to see the world, she felt its weight around her neck, as if the King was her executioner and the leash his axe.

"Yes, father?" Her tone, completely compliant, made a fleeting smile cross the King's face.

"You will fight for me in this war, won't you, my dear?" he asked, voice so poisonous she almost gagged. Nimue felt her blood boil, her rage consuming her. "You will fight for me and win for me. I will release you onto the battlefield and you will descend upon them like rain upon dry earth. You will sow the fields with their blood, because that's what I've made you for, my Radiant jewel."

The marks of her nails digging into her palms turned into wounds, and when her magic closed them, she clenched her fists again, reopening them.

"Yes, father. I will be your weapon."

She felt the leash loosen, and with a pleased smile on his face, her father gave her permission to leave.

When she was out of the King's sight, Nimue imagined the thousand ways she would slit that old, rotten man's throat.

Azriel let out a sigh, his own breath forming clouds in front of his face.

What was that pressure in his chest? Where was all that irrational rage coming from, burning his chest and taking his breath away?

His shadows swirled around his shoulders, buzzing and whispering to each other.

He did everything he could, searching in the depths of his being for the calm he needed at that moment.

Yes, rage, rage. We are furious.

Yes, that's it, furious.

Azriel clicked his tongue and shook his head, trying to rid himself of the incessant fluctuations of his shadows. He seemed like a horse shaking itself to get rid of the flies that tormented it so much.

"What's troubling you?" Cassian asked. A playful smile on his face while his gaze was fixed on some point in the city spread out before them. "It seems like your shadows are giving you a hard time."

"Never," Azriel replied without hesitation. He sighed again, rubbing his chest with one hand, right where that pressure seemed like it was about to pierce his body. "I feel like hitting something, someone. But it's not my desire, it feels strange."

Cassian burst into laughter as he leaned on the balcony rail. He closed his eyes for a moment, sinking into that brief moment of peace and enjoying the sunlight, before turning to look at his lifelong brother.

"I think we should call Madja. The spirit of Amren seems to have gotten into you and we'll have to get rid of it before you start giving us all dirty looks," he said, with a serious expression all of a sudden.

Azriel looked at him, raising an eyebrow and then sighing, ignoring the usual delusions of the Illyrian.

Both let the topic pass when they heard footsteps coming from inside the house. Cassian crossed the balcony threshold first, and while Azriel enjoyed a few last seconds of calm and sunshine before going back inside, he felt a pain in the palms of his hands. Stabbing, throbbing.

How strange, it had been a long time since the old scars on his hands had caused him sudden discomfort.

He would ask Madja for some ointment.

Because that's what it was, right?

As Cassian and Morrigan's voices echoed in the dining room, Azriel continued to prolong that moment of stability as much as he could. He felt like he was on the edge of a precipice, about to take a step forward without looking at what lay beyond. So as long as he could, he would enjoy those rays of sunshine, that scent of home, those views of the city they were rebuilding after Hybern's attack, hearing his friends laugh, and knowing that this was his place.

He went over the plan day and night since he and his family had conceived it: arrive, enter, break the Cauldron, and get out of there before the King even realized that they had snuck in.

It was perfect. There were variables, of course, but for the hundreds of unforeseen events Azriel had imagined, hundreds of solutions had been devised. It was perfect, and he trusted the plan.

But he felt so out of sorts...

Rage, it consumes us. It burns us.

Rage, rage.

It wasn't him, it wasn't his rage. He felt his own skin, his body, filled with emotions that weren't his. Like a container of some chemical mixture about to explode.

By the Mother, maybe he had eaten something strange at yesterday's dinner. Or perhaps it was the wine afterward, or maybe the countless drinks that followed at Rita's...

Because that's what it was, right?

[anonymousewrites]

Nature of the Human Soul (Book 1) Chapter Fourteen

Platonic! Hazbin Hotel x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Alastor x Teen! Reader

Chapter Fourteen: Show Goes On

Summary: The Hotel rebuilds and moves on from the fight.

Mouse Note: Thank you for reading Nature of the Human Soul (Book 1)! I hope you all enjoyed because I loved writing this. I'm so excited for Hazbin Hotel to return because I have a lot of ideas for this series, and I'm excited to continue. But for now, thank you for everything! If you like my writing, please check out my other Father Figure series!

           “Noooo!” screamed Lute as Adam fell. She ran to Adam’s side, and (Y/N) backed off, narrowing their eyes in case she tried anything. “Sir! Stay with me, sir! Adam!” He was gone.

           “It’s over,” said Charlie, holding Vaggie to her side protectively.

           Lucifer loomed over Lute, and her eyes widened in fright. “Take your little friends and go home! Please.”

           Lute narrowed her eyes and picked up Adam’s halo. Furious at having no other choice, she glared at the demons before calling out to the exorcists. “Retreat. All exorcists fall back.”

           The angels rose into the air, fleeing back through the portal to heaven.

           Lucifer, pleased, turned to the hotel group. “So…who’s up for pancakes?”

           Everyone, bloody and tired, stared at him.

l

            “Good evening, I’m Katie Killjoy,” said the news report later that night.

            “And I’m—”

            “No one gives a shit who you are, Tom,” said Katie. “Breaking news: extermination day is canceled! Charlie Morningstar managed to fend off the angelic attack with more than just nice words. In an unseen turn of events, our demonic head honcho Lucifer stepped in to save his daughter’s ass in the last moment. We’re also hearing reports that Adam, leader of the Angelic Legions, first man, and totally fuckable bad boy, has been slain by a filthy gardening demon or some shit like that. The kid said, quote, ‘I hate cameras, and TV here sucks, go away’ before threatening our crew! What an asshole! Anyway, congrats to Charlie and her crew for not being totally fucking useless for once.”

l

            Charlie held Keekee as she looked over the rubble that used to be the Hazbin Hotel. They’d lost so much, so many people. “Oh, there, there, it’s…” She sighed. “It’s okay.” She tried to believe it herself, but it was difficult.

            Angel smiled at her as he held Fat Nuggets. Charlie managed to smile back and took a step towards him. She found herself in front of the “Happy First Week!” sign she’d made for Pentious. Her heart ached at his loss. Vaggie put her hands on Charlie’s shoulders comfortingly.

(Charlie) “He did it for us, The ultimate sacrifice. He gave me his trust, And look how we pay the prince.”

            Tears gathered in her eyes. She had failed her friends. Because she hadn’t been strong enough, they had gotten hurt, killed.

(Charlie) “This bloodshed could have been avoided, If I convinced heaven to work together. I took a hotel, and I destroyed it, I know I could have done better, better, Instead of letting you down.”

            Lucifer put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder and smiled at her.

(Lucifer) “Come on little lady, why the frown? In the last ten thousand years, you’re the first one to change this town, You can do this, Now I know it, For your story has just begun, You can’t quit now, Hell, you owe it, There’s still damage to be undone, You’ve changed my mind, You’ve touched their hearts.”

            Charlie looked around as her friends approached with a smile.

(Lucifer) “Found the good in souls gone bad, The stage is wrecked, the crowd is gone, But by God Charlie, The show it must go on!”

            Her friends gathered around Charlie.

(Vaggie, Cherri, (Y/N), Angel, Husk, Niffty) “We can do this, We can build it! Best hotel that you’ve ever seen! Twice the bedrooms, We can fill it!” (Lucifer) “With more sinners than you can dream!” (Lucifer and Vaggie) “It starts with you!” (Vaggie, Cherri, (Y/N), Lucifer, Angel, Husk, Niffty) “You know it’s true, Fulfill your destiny!”

            They reached out their hands. Wiping her tears and smiling, Charlie stood and took her father’s hand as the group came together for a hug.

(Charlie) “So long as I’ve got all of you with me!”

            And so, the cleanup and work began. It was tough going, but everyone pitched in, and the hotel began to come together better than before.

(Niffty) “To build a hotel, I think we need some brick and lumber!” (Lucifer) “Good thing we’re in Hell, check out this little magic number.”

            He snapped his fingers, and the supplies appeared.

(Angel) “Start with foundation.” (Lucifer) “A remedial creation for me.”

            The foundation came together in a single spell.

(Niffty, Angel, Lucifer) “It’s as easy as can be!”

            Soon, the hotel was getting decorated, rooms ready to be stayed in.

(Charlie) “No time for cryin’, We got a lot of work to do and, We gotta try and make the best of what’s in ruins.” (Vaggie) “New coat of paint!” (Husk) “New lights across the marquee!” ((Y/N)) “With a little sorcery!”

            They waved a hand, and plants grew up around the hotel, decorating it with nature amongst the barren city that Pride usually was.

            Finally, the hotel was put back together, with a statue of Dazzle outside. Charlie smiled at the painting of Pentious and the Egg Bois going up in the foyer to honor his memory. The memories of who they lost would never be forgotten as a new era of the Hazbin Hotel approached.

(All) “We can do this!” (Charlie) “We can do this!” (All) “We’ll be better!” (Charlie) “We’ll be better!” (All) “Though redemption may take a while.” (Charlie) “Though it may take a while.” (All) “Wayward sinners, clear their ledger!”

            They came together for a hug, and a familiar face popped out of the shadows.

(Alastor) “And we’re doing it with a smile!”

            (Y/N) grinned. He was healed and back with them. He had survived, too.

(Charlie) “We’ll make a difference, wait and see.” (Charlie and Vaggie) “We’re gonna do this, you and me.” (All) “And then tomorrow it will be, A fuckin’ happy day in Hell!”

            The Hazbin Hotel was open for business.

l

            (Y/N) walked through the hotel to the new wing dedicated to Alastor’s broadcasts. Obviously, it was placed on the opposite side from Lucifer’s apple-themed wing. They paused at the door of the radio and knocked.

            “Alastor?” they called out.

            The door was opened by a shadow, and (Y/N) stepped inside. Alastor was standing over the controls of the new radio, examining everything.

            “Do you like it?” asked (Y/N), slightly nervous.

           Yes, they had faced Adam, but this was…different. It was a different type of encounter. With a fight, (Y/N) knew what it felt like to suffer, to go through pain, so they could handle that. With friendship, (Y/N) had very little experience, so they weren’t sure how to deal with it.

           Alastor turned to face them. “It seems Charlie did a good job ensuring this was up to my standards. My broadcasts will be quality, as usual.”

           “Charlie didn’t make it. Well, she helped, but I, uh, I did it,” said (Y/N).

           Alastor paused, and his grin, unbidden, widened. “You did?”

           (Y/N) nodded. “I saw your tower was affected when Adam hurt you, so when we rebuilt the hotel, I made sure there was something for you to come back to.”

           “I hadn’t expected to have a broadcast tower at the hotel,” said Alastor.

           “Do you like it?” asked (Y/N).

           “I do,” said Alastor honestly.

           (Y/N) brightened. “I’m glad! And I’m glad you’re alright. Adam did a lot of damage to the hotel, killed Pentious, and hurt you pretty badly.”

           “It will take more than that to kill the Radio Demon,” said Alastor, but the unfortunate truth was that he had nearly died.

           “I faced him,” said (Y/N) suddenly.

           Alastor paused. “Oh?”

           “Yeah, I fought Adam. It didn’t go that well for me, either.” They grinned at him. “But I killed him. In the end, I killed him.” They stood proud in their strength and determination. Yes, (Y/N) had nearly fallen to Adam and Lucifer had really defeated him, but dealing the killing blow had given (Y/N) so much satisfaction.

           Alastor looked at (Y/N), and he cursed every part of him that still had some humanity since he felt something as they smiled at him. It wasn’t what he felt when Rosie laughed alongside him and teased him, but it held a familiar warmth. Although he had begun by seeing something in (Y/N) that reminded him of himself from oh-so long ago, Alastor couldn’t help but look at (Y/N) and just see them, now. It wasn’t them being like him, even if it still began there, but it was more.

           “I wouldn’t expect anything less of my protégé,” said Alastor, unable to keep the fondness completely out of his voice.

           Alastor was falling victim to all of the weaknesses he wanted to eliminate within himself.

           And (Y/N)? Well, the Nature Demon stood tall. They were growing into all the strength they had ever wished for.

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[remembrancer-of-heresy]

Reverse Therapy AU:

I usually try to follow canon (or close to it) when I write fanfics. And especially when I write about space marines. However, I've been thinking about creating my own AU. I've previously asked @kit-williams to write about space marines whose sexual desire has returned. Now I've decided to write a more detailed backstory before writing fanfics about it.

On Istvaan V Horus Lupercal issued a series of orders that were supposed to increase the traitors' chances of victory. Some innovations in the craft of war and hierarchy. However, few know that all Space Marines (regardless of the wishes of the Primarchs) also underwent therapy that restored their sexual desire.

The Warmaster did this for a number of reasons. First, he felt hatred and disappointment at the fact that the Emperor planned to destroy their species eventually. This explains why the Space Marines lost the desire to reproduce. Their presence is a necessity, not a natural process. At least it was until that day.

Second, Horus was partly influenced by Slaanesh (each of the four gods contributed to his goals and powers) and the desire to create a new species. In a way, a desire to become a real father/parent, as mortals would say.

Only heretics know about Reverse Therapy. The Imperium has harsh propaganda on many aspects concerning Chaos. It is not surprising that people who know about it prefer to remain silent. After all, if the fate of becoming a slave fighter (aka cannon fodder) or a slave for dirty work (and sometimes for torture) frightens the inhabitants of the Imperium. Then the possibility of becoming a warm body is not so scary.

Relationships depend on the specific marine. But if we talk in general, then:

Emperor's Children: A legion of hedonists and debauchees, oddly enough, may be the strangest place for such a slave. Some will simply torture, others will engage in ordinary intimate things. But do not forget that each marine seeks his own pleasure. For example, there were men who spoiled their lovers, giving them whatever they wanted, forgetting about bed. In fact, they treated them like pets (with sexual connotations). Art lovers were noticed trying to sculpt, draw a poor slave. And it does not matter in what state (she is always beautiful!). If this is a beloved wife, then later they made love to her after completing the work. If an ordinary slave, then most often she was walled up alive in wax. Simply put, everything depends on the search for pleasure of the marine you come across.

Night Lords: falling into the hands of a space marine from this legion is akin to playing roulette. Most likely, it will be a sadist who likes to mock his victims not only with ordinary torture. This means that the slaves will not live long. Some keep one slave partly out of sympathy or because it is convenient, continuing to torture. Although there are also quite often “heroes” who simply adore rescuing slave girls (and it does not matter that such knights recently flayed children) and fuck them right next to the corpse of the villain, promising to take care, protect and love forever. Just let them be seen as saviors.

Iron Warriors: Despite the fact that the Space Marines from this legion despise mortals and advocate for efficiency, there is not always only iron inside. Many also crave love, like their primarch, desperately hiding this feeling. Some representatives of this legion can be quite rough in bed. Others, delighted with new sensations, first only hug and kiss. But almost always it all turns into possessive behavior and favorite slaves quickly find themselves under the protection of the master in an iron cage. And of course the poor things will be marked. Either it's a collar, or they will be marked. And yes, the unlucky slaves who didn't find their marine probably would be sent to a brothel (if this place called like this in the Eye of Terror) or became daemonculaba.

Black Legion: breeding kink is hereditary. Most former Sons of Horus easily accepted the reverse therapy. And although some were not thrilled to experience... feelings at the sight of mortals, like the same Abaddon, over time they even liked it. The Black Legion has a variety of Space Marines from other Legions, but some of them also adopted the Sons of Horus attitude to reverse therapy. It is best for a warm slave to end up in this Legion, as she will have a better chance of immediately finding a good patron who will protect her. But if her master would like to share... the weakest doesn't survive.

Word Bearers: perhaps the most unusual Legion when it comes to reverse therapy. Some may use slaves for rituals. If they experience possessive feelings, they will most likely hide them from the rest of the Legion. And then it depends on the Space Marine. It can be a joint study of the Chaos Gods or worship of a beloved. Some Astartes are particularly fond of playing the role of serpent-tempters and corrupting their lovers. Or not. There was even a case of a Word Bearer convincing a girl that in fact he serves the God-Emperor, and the loyalists serve the Four Gods, in order to gain her attention and love.

Death Guard: If Grandfather Nurgle got Grandmother Isha, then why should his beloved grandchildren be alone? The question is not how the Space Marines will treat you (with all the love) but how do they want you? A decayed corpse full of sores and diseases for the glory of Grandfather? Or will you be young and beautiful like Isha, to create a delightful contrast. Either way, they are all terrible owners and treat their slaves very tenderly. At least in their understanding, since it is in this legion that the slaves most often cry (well, just like grandma, exactly, yeah!). Although some can be rude and even evil, they always ask for forgiveness later.

Alpha Legion: It is rather difficult to say how the Space Marines of the most secretive Legion cope with their newfound desire. According to some rumors, copies of the Primarchs like to exchange their slaves. Marines with an extremely expressive appearance most often choose one girl and become possessive to the point of madness (manipulation + Stockholm syndrome are guaranteed). But this is only general data.

Thousand Sons: The Legion joined the "general fun" too late and underwent therapy only before the siege of Terra. And yes, no one explained to them what it was. As a result, the therapy led to... interesting consequences. Some Thousand Sons got used to it as an insignificant feature that should be studied later. Others, little scientists, like to experiment with new sensations and relationships. Some Space Marines like stupid mortals, others adore lovers of knowledge. Some conduct experiments on their slaves, and others cherish them as pets.

World Eaters: Being a Khorn worshippers, these Space Marines forget about all aspects of life except the lust for murder. Most World Eaters do not have warm slaves. However, if they do, they are treated with great care (to the best of their ability). They do not leave their master's chambers because they know that if they leave, their skull will be crushed. Relationships/courtship(?) are always brutal with a touch of oppressive tenderness. World Eaters have a hard time being affectionate, but once they have warm slaves, they try to keep them with all their might.

Sometimes loyalist Space Marines take the path of Chaos. Such traitors also undergo reverse therapy. However, their “first experience” depends on the environment of their new brothers. Sometimes a Space Marine may not be explained the reason for his new feelings and why he suddenly wants to look at mortal women or men.

Such newcomers are the most dangerous. Most often, they kill a slave, eat or break from an excess of feelings. Newcomers who have been explained their desire should also not be trusted. Because in their desire to try the previously forbidden fruit, they may not hold back their strength. All “newcomers” in reverse therapy are usually given the most uninteresting slaves. Rarely does anyone survive. And if a loyalist traitor likes a girl to the point of madness, this surprises, scares a little, and sometimes disgusts the Chaosites (love at first sight? ugh).

The attitude of loyalist traitors to warm slaves depends on many reasons. What legion they came from, what gods they worship, what gang they are in. But most often, the most obsessed and eager for love are all the heirs of the Blood Angels and the Raven Guard. The Iron Hands experience the least sexual desire.

To summarize, “Reverse Therapy” AU where all chaosites have sexual desire in one way or another. However, since they are firstly space marines, and secondly heretics, mortal slaves are afraid to attract their attention. These are always dark feelings, too overexcited and sometimes uncontrollable. The worst is for those who spend only one night with traitors. Others become lovers, consider pets. Who are loved and cherished, but this care is suffocating and gloomy.

P.S. This AU was made partly for me personally, as I always write the attraction of space marines as an exception to the rule or if he is influenced by Slaanesh/Dark Gods. If I create rules and fanon for myself, then I can write more of my darkest ideas. And yes. It will be mostly OC space marines.

[achromant]

AND HERE WE ARE! My project for the gw2 'zine!

Featuring Baruhn, reflecting on his life so far, the challenges, the small sparks of joy, the horrors, loss and gain.

For clarification's sake; I did in fact plan to depict every stage of Baruhn's life, but uuh. File was already too big.

Might do a series of short comics (graphic novels?) though, because i fking love storytelling.

Let's look at my idiotic level of detail a bit, eh?

[Long Text Ahead]

Baruhn's story begins in the Plains of Ashford. An unsuccessful attempt to stem the tide of Ascalonian Ghosts leads to the demise of many year-long allies. Dozens of brave soldiers gave their life for a mere week of peace until the ghosts reformed. They always do. Soldiers don't.

Shaken in his faith in the Legions, the first seeds of doubt arise.

Until finally he found someone to trust with his pain. In a tavern at the edge of the Black Citadel, he gets to know this odd fellow, who is continuosly follow by the faint smell of sulfur. Although Baruhn knew where that path led, the warmth radiating from the old veteran in front of him was not only a physical, but an emotional one.

With the Three Legions busy with their internal quarrels, fighting over an empty promise, Baruhn took the first steps down a previously thought to be dark path.

Surprisingly, die Flame Legion was welcoming, their fires offered light and guidance, the embers igniting the skies like stars. Surely this was better than the cold metal over the Black Citadel.

Baruhn took to learning first, handling the small flames with ease after years of throwing fireballs at ghostly shapes. Then, he figured out how to teach, and that is where the real magic comes from. Nurturing a flame, protecting it from harsh winds, adding a bit of kindling and coal here and there. He even taught the more elusive ways of magic that wield smoke and ash.

Baruhn knew about the war, the countless lifes lost on the other side of the fence. But those were humans, and here he was among family.

That is, until he met Molly.

After a small recon mission that was assured not to be much of a hurdle, Baruhn found himself alone in a forest. The small fires he conjured for light and warmth only drew in the nearby villagers. Those with pitchforks and torches, with crude swords and a thirst for blood. He couldn't really bring himself to hate them, this was war after all. But at what cost are these battles to be won?

Trying to escape the villagers was a futile attempt. He sank to the ground, his own hot blood dousing the little flames beneath his weary head.

For some reason - maybe hope, maybe resignation - he forced open his heavy eyes, only to discover his wounds cleaned and bandaged with fragile white cloth. A small human girl, of all things in this damned forest, tried to help. Even in his weakened state, even with just one hand, Baruhn could have easily grabbed her and cracked her skull. But the only thing he did was listen. He listened to the ramblings of the small human, going on and on about faries made of leaves and gnomes of stone. She called him "bear".

When the villagers came, they saw the girl at his side. That was all it took for them to turn on her. She was to be executed like that beast that now slowly stepped in front of her. For the first time, Baruhn spoke to the girl. "close your eyes."

Fire roared, not red, not orange. not a warm, welcoming fire. Not one that belongs in a hearth, that thrives in the arms of a family. This was so much worse. This was years of inner conflict, of doubt, of closing his eyes on the other side of the fence. For the first time in his life, this was the only thing that he wanted to do, protect the little insignificant human behind him. Fire roared, and it burned wood and it burned flesh.

Baruhn picked up the little girl, she held tight to his horns, nestled in his mane. He ran for hours, years of military training finally useful. The little girl, Molly, lost her mother years ago. She burned in the fires of a war she tried to escape. "And your father? What about your family?", he asked between deep breaths. Molly was quiet for a while, then whispered, her voice barely audible, "My father burned today."

They stayed together, for quite a while. He protected her, and she, with her head full of stories, and a book full of dreams, protected him.

Things came, things went. Baruhn rejoined the High Legions, acting as a spy for Ash, keeping an eye on Iron and Blood.

Baruhn ultimately took on his role as Novice, then Archivist, then Commander. He helped during the struggles against Scarlet. A small flame here and there, some shrouding smoke, a well timed lightning strike. It was other people that finally defeated Scarlet, but he was always in the background, with all the small things at just the right time.

Mordremoth came, but with him new allies.

It was but a small tangent in the grand scheme of things. Watching the fragile sapling while waging war on the jungle itself.

Their relation was something more than friendship, something else than love. They were there for each other when they needed to be. Be it only to keep a flame burning or to banish the voices to the back of the head again, they walked the same path for a long time.

Tarir, the Egg. Aurene. A new flame entrusted to him, his to nurture, his to raise. A gamble, again. What if that little flame would some day devour the world? But Baruhn did, what he could do best. Teach.

Darker times came. Caudecus and the White Mantle. The raid on the Mursaat's prison. Then facing the last Mursaat himself.

Balthazar came, and in his wake a new kind of fire. A war, similar to the ones Baruhn had seen before, but still different. A war without a cause, war for war's sake. War against nature, against the world, like a child lashing out when there were none to help them up. Maybe Balthazar's flames were not too different from his.

After the festering swamp that Joko was, came the mountain, Kralkatorrik. Death was not a hindrance anymore, not for the Commander and his dragon. The story went as the story goes.

When it came to face the frost, the whispers, Jormag. Everything fell apart. Jormag pried into the deepest, darkest corners of Baruhn's life, dragged every doubt, small as it may have been, into the light. In the ice, every truth was warped, encased in whispers, in lies. It suffocated any hope and planted even darker seeds than anyone thought possible.

It was the spirit of the Raven that aided Baruhn. Even the black feathers of its wings were shimmering like rainbows in the moonlight.

A small piece stayed with him, just a fragment. Nevermore.

After that, the stars themselves. Astralaria.

So many stories that make a life, so many pieces. Every encounter, every step along the way is another fragment of the whole. People are made of other people, that is what it means to be alive.