#muse; titus

[theovergrowth]

Awhile back I answered an ask from a meme about what lie Titus and Macrides respectively tell the most, and I said that Titus’ is “I’ve got this under control” which is true but there’s another one he has to say more than he would like to admit: “I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

He says it every time he’s about to leave for good, just so nobody suspects that he’s about to disappear and try to stop him. So instead, he makes plans to see them the next day and leaves in the dead of night.

[ofgrenvde]

@c0exiist / @blackbcxwarning

[womanofwords]

Everybody's Favourite (Part 3)

Over the next few days, you and Penguin get really close. Penguin teaches you the ins and outs of business: branding, advertising, pricing. You encourage Penguin to invest in something that people could go to during the day. "Maybe an ice cream place or coffee," you mused. "You can name it whatever you want."

Penguin looked at you with glee. "I like the way you think. Helps me be less shadowy."

Word spread about the kidnapping scarily fast. "Oswald, are the rumours true? Do you really have one of the Wayne kids here?" the Riddler asked, dropping by.

"Yes, Y/N Wayne. I've been trying to get their idiot father to believe that they're in my custody, but no dice." Penguin dropped his voice to a terrified whisper. "Half of my collection has been organised in five hours! Do you have any idea how large my collection is?"

"Yeesh. Do they know that Bruce Wayne is being about as useful as a map drawn in invisible ink?"

"They must have some clue. They were supposed to have been gone by now, but they're still here. They even made a joke about their family wouldn't notice that they were gone."

Penguin spluttered as he gestured at you. You were asleep in a pile of blankets in lieu of a bed. "How would they not know that this little angel was gone?"

"Maybe they really don't care. Not sure how they could come to that conclusion." Riddler looked at you with a small smile. "You know, I have a bet that you can keep Y/N here for two weeks straight without acting suspiciously or trying to hide them and even continuing to ask for ransom money, and they won't do a thing."

"Does the two weeks start now or from the day of the kidnapping? Because they've already been here for four days."

"From the day of the kidnapping. I'm not a monster. Also, what do you want if you win?"

"I'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Until then, I'm ordering more Indian food. I don't know how to cook."

(PAUSE)

Time went on, and more of Batman's rogues gallery paid a visit to the captive Wayne child as if it were a baby shower.

Two-Face was the first to arrive. "You can't be serious. Brucie Wayne didn't want to collect his child? Didn't you tell him?"

"We sent messengers, we called him, we sent stuff in the mail, he just thinks it's a prank." Penguin threw his hands up with exasperation. "Nothing against the little dove, but this is a little longer than I thought."

"I'll tell him," Dent volunteered. "Me and him go way back. Once he knows that it's serious, he'll arrive with something. Either the bat or the ransom, but something."

"Go ahead, but you're gonna lose me a bet," Riddler said nonchalantly.

"What's happening?" you asked.

"We're . . . having some difficulties contacting your family, dollface," Two-Face said. "They're not taking this very seriously."

"They don't take me very seriously," you snarked. "It's not you, it's me. I'm not exactly on the list of people they're concerned about. Titus ranks higher than me."

"Is Titus another kid?" Riddler asked. "No offence, but he has so many."

"None taken, Riddler. Titus is Damian Wayne's dog." You stretched and straightened out your clothes. "You're going to have to put up with me for a while longer. Also, do you have some spare clothes I can wear? I've been wearing my school uniform for the last four days straight and I'm beginning to stink."

"I'll call Harley about it," Penguin said.

(PAUSE)

The clown prince of crime arrived with his harlequin. "You kidnapped Bruce Wayne's child? Penguin, I didn't know you had it in you."

"Where is the little sweetums?" Harley burst in with bags laden with clothes. "I wasn't sure what they'd like, so I bought everything!"

"Uh . . . hi," you said, waving awkwardly. "Who's that for?"

"You, sweetums!" Harley said. "I also brought soap, toothpaste, shampoo, general hygiene products. Everything you'll need to live here."

"Thank you." You smiled up at the jester. "I just wish my folks could be as nice to me as you guys are."

Harley's smile dropped. "I . . . take it they're not the most attentive."

"They haven't bothered noticing my ransom, why would they notice toothpaste?" you snarked.

Joker and Harley looked at each other with horror and pity before turning back to Reader. "OK, kiddo, can you tell me what the Waynes are like to you?" Joker asked, his tone softened. "We need details. Lots."

"But not yet! You need a shower first. A long one," Harley ordered. "Here's the bag with all the bath stuff and here's the bag with all the clothes. Once you're dry and dressed, tell us everything."

You looked at Harley with confusion. "You . . . really want to know?"

"Of course!" Harley insisted. "Think of it as talk therapy. While you're in there, I'll call Ivy. She's the best with hair. And Professor Crane, too. You are not going to be alone with all those thoughts, honey. Let me know when you're done so I can get you a snack."

Your head was spinning. All those people would be arriving . . . and all for you.

How would you ever get used to this?

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3 <- You are here

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Taglist: @tinybrie

[traiaadd156]

No, but reverse AU damian??

damian as a yandere

Dead dove do not eat!!!!

Warnings!; stock home syndrome, cnc, AGED UP DAMIAN!, cscnc, kidnapping, being held captive, chaining, p n v, fingering, voyeurism, drugging, being manipulative, blood. Pls comment if I missed anything(⁠^⁠^⁠), college au, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT I REPEAT!!, somnophilia, dacryphilia, reader wasnt able to escape, happy ever after(?), damian being a stalker etc. long ahh fanfic, fem!reader, violence(duhh ) spanking, virginity taking, straitjacket and light bondage, sadist damian(?) on going!(Probly two more stories)

It was never meant to be this painful. You felt your head pounding against skull whilst everything around felt like a haze, a thin sweat covering your forehead with how hard your trying to regain some bit of clarity to whatever the hell is happening.

All you remembered was your classmate; Damian. You and him were supposed to be doing a project at his place, at first you're rather nervous to come in your rather casual attire since everything about him was pristine and opulent to a suffocating degree.

But thankfully enough it wasn't the wayne manor, rather another house. It wasn't a mansion but it was still more than enough than your college budget could afford; a two story house, it looked well kept yet its old fashioned american architecture could say otherwise, but it was nice like the well trimmed garden.

You had walked the gravel to his front patio, it crunching every step till you finally walked up the wooden steps to his door.

A soft breath is let out of you, before ringing the door bell. Waiting whilst you looked around, his neighbours were rather quiet, probably asleep at this time but the hour was an early evening... Brushing it off when he finally opened the door, he greeted with a curt nod and a slight smile before letting you in.

It was all fine, the project and power point went on well without him butting in and saying something was wrong with your analogy or what not when adding something into the presentations power point; he was oddly cooperative, a soft hum left your lips pleased seeing how his laptops lock screen was of his animals and dog(titus).

"I didnt know you had a cow." Musing when he came back with a chilled canned latte of coffee, he handed you one.

"thats titus, great dane." He said cooly, it was oddly endearing whilst you finally finished the power point.

"thanks, I never privy you for a dog person." Not helping to jab since he didnt look like a person who'd enjoy anything at all. Opening the can as its satisfying crackle sounded when opening the tab, drinking the stimulant concoction. At least he knew your sweet tooth.

"well I do like animals, not just dogs. I also have a cow."

That made you chuckle a bit lowly, trying not to spit out your own drink. It wasnt out of mockery but by how oddly sweet and out of character it is for him, or what you believed so.

"well you might as well make a whole farm with the collection of animals you have."

He smiled, at that. Not because it was some witty remark that amused him even if it did. It was the way that anesthetic worked wonders, and how easily you seem to ease in and pass out onto his floor.

Thats what is happening right now, he was carrying you somewhere. Your limp body being carried like it was the most precious thing on earth, he could smell your shampoo and perfume from how close you were whilst he carried you to your room.

Well not your actual room, but a room he built for you underground, where no one would even think to look. He was much more clever than to leave out any evidence that you were even in the house in the first place.

He knew you didnt have any roommates, he knew your hobbies, where you live, and multiple routes to that shabby apartment you lived in.

It angered him.

Not at you but at the things he could have done if he just acted sooner.

But he wanted to wait, to see if you were the one. He doesnt need to think twice anymore.

It felt like a dream when he layed you onto your new bed and room, how peaceful you looked when asleep. And how easy it was to strap that heavy metal chain on your ankle to prevent you from escaping, or even moving properly with how thick it was.

Damian wasnt an idiot.

He knew he shouldnt be in a very loud area filled with people and with his budget he practically could rent out the whole block of his neighbour hood if he wanted. Which he did.

No witnesses, only him driving to an unmarked place where not even his father or the other robins would go, somewhere far from the irky muck of gotham.

His hand gently caressed your unconscious face, sliding his knuckles against the softness of your skin, him crouching to get a better look at your face when he did so.

He couldnt leave you alone.

Well, not where he doesnt know where you are.

You were so gullible, he seemingly made it easy to look harmless and scrawny. A personality he created all for you .

Soft smiles here and there, his handsome face and rich background made it impossible for anyone to suspect.

Just like how easily he lied.

But it was all for you.

He wasnt going to let you go, not when you're already in his snare.

He sighed mentally scolding you for how easy you were to target, you werent air headed... Well sometimes you were, but it was always in the comfort of other people.

His hand glided over the appliances he bought for this room; the bed, the closet filled with the clothes he thought you'd like, soon going out of the room.

He made sure it was perfect.

He made sure you could never fight back. So he wouldnt have to hurt you.

That thought crossed his mind many times but he made sure. He needed you to be hopeless, it would be much easier to break you then, but time would just go by and then he'll finally have his answer.

When you finally woke up the first thing was to panic, the pink walls and the soft glow of the orange lamp beside you. Practically jumping out of the bed but when you stood nausea hit you like a truck, the bitter acidic taste on your tongue and throat before stumbling back down onto the bed.

Something heavy and cold weighing on your ankle.

"what the fuck." Muttering tugging on the chain, the door was closed and unlocked but by how long this chain is you could only walk around this stupid room and to the bathroom.

Your first instinct was to scream, and so you did. For thirty minutes straight before giving up, and so right now your trying to pry off the lamp stuck to that night stand which ALSO was stuck to the ground.

It was obvious who ever the hell kidnapped you thought it through and it made you so irritated and at the same time scared.

Because what could they possibly want from you? You were rich thats for sure so what do they want??

Hours seem to pass before the door opened, and you were shocked to see no one else but damian holding a tray of food.

Your shock soon turned into anger as you screamed, to why he kidnapped you and why the hell you were chained in this creepy kiddish room.

But he didnt answer. "Answer me you psycho!"

That made his jaw clenched before putting down the food tray onto the desk on the foot of the bed. "Please, calm down beloved—" he tried to assure, keeping his tone calm and level headed which obviously you didnt fucking buy.

"NO I WONT CALM DOWN! And stop calling me that you weirdo, let me out!"

He knew you'd act like this, like everyone else but he didnt budge. "You are never leaving this place alright? Whether you like it or not."

He announced leaving no room for argument before he left, you just sat there on your bed angry tears from the throbbing of your head and how powerless you felt. But there is one thing he could never do is let you give up, not when you had a life ahead.

You weren't stupid enough to throw the food away, and eating with caution since he last drugged you made you pass out and made you stuck here in the first place.

The desk seemed heavy and clean, made of some fancy wood you know. The food wasnt much to die for; just oatmeal and some fruit with water and half of a ham sandwich he probably bought from subway.

Begrudgingly eating as you wondered, even if your body felt like it was too weak to even stand without falling into the floor.

How long were you out for?

Days felt like years, realizing his pattern. Usually he comes whenever he thinks your asleep or occupied but you stubbornly keep ignoring him or beg to be let free. Even hitting and scratching more than once which he quickly shut down.

His punishments werent kind either, he would force you in a straitjacket to avoid you from moving, even letting you stay in there for days and only some minutes where he'd let you out just to go in the restroom.

But whenever you were in the straitjacket he'd let you roam outside the room, you realized how there was no windows or doors leading out meaning it must be an underground system where he is holding you in.

Lony eeri dim halls that seem to stretch and some open areas that were supposed to mimic a house or whatever he is trying. The vents were always too small and too high for you to crawl out off.

The loneliness hit you like a truck which seemingly was just the first month of you being kept here, some nights you'd just sob into your pillow or not eat as much as you did which he oddly was quick to notice.

Some foods you used to like no longer interested you which he also stopped buying, he could see the soft hope and light in your eyes grew to fade. Yet he never comments, he always speaks to you as if this was the most normal thing, he keeps giving nicknames that sometimes you didnt even understand. It made you cringe half the time "beloved" or "habibti" or some other arabic endearment.

You had started to draw as a hobby, to keep you from going insane with how your practically stuck here having to put up with his stupid rules and his stupid face. He only gave you oil pastels to avoid you from making a weapon to hurt him or yourself.

But he knew the best to do for you, right? He knew you were awake whenever you pretended to sleep, letting him hold your face if he wanted, to just stare at the only time you ever seem to be at peace.

It seemed as the weeks went by you caught yourself always looking at the doors, usually the places he'd enter. But there is no way your actually expecting him to come in, he kept coming back later than some days.

Its as if you were starting to actually miss him, but there is no way... He was the one who made you feel like a doll; meant to be looked at and touched and nothing more than that. And he sometimes stick your poor drawing onto the fridge like your child which infuriated you.

But there was one incident you never forgot, when you tried to gouge out his eye balls with your finger.

Now your bound and over his lap. In his dark gravely voice he spoke; "your counting all of these, and if you make one mistake were going through it ten fold."

His heavy hand then struck down, counting the first hit. "One–" managing to choke out as his leg caught your flailing legs as you, he knew you werent going to be let off easily and out of his own sick desire he is stretching this punishment to hold along more.

With every strike you seem to lose a part of your dignity and pride, 17. It was all he was going too count, but why that number? It felt like a terribly odd number and one you knew you'd loose yourself too.

Even after he finished, he noticed the slickness between your thighs. "Just as I thought, but dont fret.. Im sure you'd enjoy the next punishment." Your body was limp on his thigh, your legs slightly trembled when his rough hand gently squeezed your reddened rear. This was humiliating, its as if he really wanted to break you.

Now you were blind folded and finally in that straitjacket again as much as you dreaded, laid out in a surgical table as your feet and body were also bound as you cussed and yelled at him.

Soon a heavy slap came to your thigh from a belt, choking on your own breath as hot angry tears started to fall as you tried to do the latter— to convince him that you didnt want to be hurt; not when you couldnt see, it only terrified you even more.

"please- damian, I didnt mean too. I just wanna go home!" Pleading falling into deaf ears as another blow hit, right as your hip making you jump.

"No, I don't think its right. You tried to kill me, and now your going to face the consequences of your actions." He states, his eyes calculating and dark watching your half bear form as you squirmed, the slickness that shined between your thighs was enough to make him swallow his own desire.

The rough pads of his thumb finding your clit making you yelp, rough tight circles went into a slow pace but deliberate enough you'd choke in your own words. "Ng—! Wait damian please- stop–!"

It was great, how powerless you were, and those soft noises you made he wanted to hear more. He could see you clenching on nothing as you mockingly chuckled darkly whilst continuing his ministration.

A soft noise that sounded like a choked mewl let out from your throat as you plead to stop died down, your trembling body arching painfully as you still were crying, he was hoping it was out of pleasure than anything. "Whats wrong? Cat got your tongue?" He continued to rub tight harsh circles on your clit, the slick dripping down to your inner thighs which he collected with his index before going in.

A soft gasp letting out from you. "You're drenched, and here this was supposed to be your punishment. Maybe I am being too lenient with you." He hissed with desire dripping from his tone, his hands soon exited out, the friction you wanted gone, a whimper coming out of you much to his sick amusement. "Dont worry, your such a fucking slut for seemingly enjoying this." But before you could say anything he shifted away.

"well I guess I should start, you arent leaving this room until its morning." He soon stuck a vibrator taped to your clit before he set it to the middle setting, to your already raw and spent clit, it was a harsh yet overstimulating feeling of pleasure and pain that ripped into you. "Mhph— damian–! Dami please!" You didnt even know what your asking for as your mind went blank, the sudden prod of his digits going into you as your legs strained under the bindings. "Too much!" You whined out as his fingers made a come here motion, your tightness squeezing his digits since your fingers were never that big as his. It made your head throw back at the cool metal beneath you whilst he hummed, satisfied with your reaction. Thats it, he wanted you to feel it, to feel him inside but he cant rush. Not yet...

He wanted to make your first time with him special.

He didnt comfort you, at the searing stretch that deliciously went in. Lewd squealing wet noises coming out from the slickness of your puffy pussy, clenching like it was trying to push him out before his movements grew bolder.

Every mewl whimper and whine he seemed to relish in, he was a bit happy you seemed to be taking pleasure in it. Or the way your body was responsive to him. It stroked his pride and ego, to how he could make you feel like this. It was a delight he couldn't help but enjoy, every noise you make, the way your walls clench around his fingers and he could see your toes curl whenever it hit that special spot inside you.

He could finally feel you.

He could feel how close you were, the way your body halted its tremor and seemingly trying to concentrate on how the tips of his fingers rammed into your cervix, a soft muffled whimper with your bottom lip being bitten as a strangled cry let out.

That was good, he thought watching you fall apart to his fingers alone. He ignored the throb of his own dick in his slacks, he didnt want to admit his desire not yet.

"poor girl, so pathetic and too horny to think of anything else." He coaxed softly, kissing your temple before withdrawing his fingers. The played with the sticky substance in his fingers before out of his own need he put his digits into his mouth. A groan of satisfaction letting out of his chest. "So fucking good." He cursed, eyes rolling back when he closed them, you tasted so sweet and tangy on his tongue, it felt like oozing caramel on his fingers. His tongue working licking and swallowing every bit of you, groaning at the taste. He finally got what he always dreamt of, every wet dream he got now here played out into the table, he could see how your limbs turned to jelly laying limply.

"so beautiful, as always.." he muttered lowly to himself, before you could even come down from your own high his plan did need to break you thoroughly.

Taking the vibrator off your twitching clit, he could see your nipples poking out in relief as you sighed, probably feeling tired. "Were not done yet." He said yet again.

"didnt I say were going to be stuck here all night?"

You couldnt even think properly as he shoved in that vibrator, and another egg shaped vibrator , and another till you practically were filled to the brim. A soft whimper letting out whenever he opened each single one of them.

He had all night, it was a weekend after all and maybe you didnt know that, a sick evil grin on that stupidly handsome face, a sick perversion he has been hiding for everyone except you. Since you were the enigma of it. The drive to what he has become now, or what he would like to say.

Time skip

Finally the alarm from his phone rang; finally it was the early morning 5;30, he sighed as he looked at his screen for a moment then back at your wet broken figure, when the last vibrator finally was at low battery, a strangled relieved mewl finally let out from you as he walked over.

He saw the mess you made, your juices dripping out of the table and your tired teary eyes looked glossy when he took off the blind fold from your eyes. "Are you still there?" He had the gall to ask, looking back at him dumbly when he started to unbuckle your straitjacket and the binds from your leg. Sex filled the air like an intoxicating fume, but it wasnt unpleasant, his own arousal as hazed as your vission.

Finally you were behaving, not fussing and no back talk or trying to claw his eyes. He carried you out of that room as he walked, your arms around him while he carried you to his bathroom where he had a bathtub that oddly fitted both of you. He already began to strip as the warm water filled when he opened the knobs, sitting on the toilet as you leaned back, exhausted and trembling, slick still sticky between your plush thighs.

He hummed softly whilst scrubbing your hair, he watched as your back slumped on his stomach. The scent of his shampoo on your head as he was rather quiet, you looked down at the waters whilst scrubbing your body with the wash cloth he gave.

"what made you call me beloved?"

Suddenly asking stunning him for a bit, its the first thing you asked after being so quiet for so long. "Nothing, I just found it befitting." He said before adding, explaining further why;

"its what my parents use to talk to each other, specifically my mother."

That was actually sort of cute, that he would copy his parents way of showing love, you wondered if its also because he kidnapped you.

"thats cute.." muttering whilst soon washing your face with the warm water.

Your body ached as he carried you out of there after drying you, uncharacteristically cooperative, he was wondering if your planning another escape. "Do you want to go out?"

He finally asked watching you put on deodorant that he'd bought(since he bought everything you used to mascara, soaps and even deodorant since maybe its because you liked not having anything different)

"really?" Finally after the many months of trying to make you happy, a glimmer shined in your eyes, glossy and something real.

"yeah."

"but only in the garden."

Ehh, thats close enough, to finally feel the sun on your skin again and see something other than steel and bleak colors. It made you finally smile softly.

Standing up off the bed as you walked following him, not caring if you didnt have shoes on since as long as you were out.

Both going to a tunnel he never let you out, walking a long path of stares exhausting you for a bit before opening the outside. An inside of an abandoned warehouse greeted you, old cars piled here and there but you didnt mind as you stared in awe finally seeing something different.

Following him to the outside, he opened the rusty old door slightly before exiting. It wasnt that much of an eye candy but there was over grown weeds and grass but none the less you were delighted, after putting on slipper you ran around the space of grass, sometimes crouching to pick up some flowers or weeds you found interesting, collecting them with your left hand.

He watched from a distance, leaning on the abandoned structure of the warehouse. He knew it was pointless to run away since you were no longer in gotham, he had it specifically located in the middle of nowhere yet there was still a way back to the city where he could go sometimes.

Finally you came back, messy even after you showered before carrying back the mess of weeds and flowers with you. "You arent getting that back in the house." He warned, begrudgingly having to give up the flowers and leaving them on the head of a car. "Fine, but Im taking this one."

Putting the small flower on your hand before walking back inside to the bunker like place he called 'home'

2 weeks later

For a few days you had been calm, unproblematic and surprisingly clingy to him. Well you craved human interaction and he was the only person you even get to see in real life, now you two were on the couch, watching a movie about something you didnt care as you were on top of him cuddling much to his delight that he didnt show.

"Im leaving for the city for a few weeks, and I cant visit you.." he finally broke the comfortable silence, his words slightly confusing you. Why is he leaving you here? Alone? Is he even sure about this? Maybe it was just your paranoia taking over. "Really? And why cant you visit me?"

Not helping to prod as he didnt look you in the eye when speaking. "Just work related things, the fridge has 5 months of food and meat. Make sure to eat the fruits before they rot, and you still have a good amount of chocolate too. But dont eat them all in one sitting."

Since the last time you got kitchen banned was because you ate a weeks whole of chocolate bars you really liked, besides the time you tried to stab him with a plastic knife(which obviously didnt work)

"Im not gonna eat it all in one sitting." Well that was an obvious lie, but whatever your mind wants to believe its fine..

You stared at him, is he serious? You dont know if you could handle not even being able to see or even contact him since there is nothing but a smart TV you didnt know how to use. Because he was rich and of course he had to do that—.

"promise to come straight back." Not helping to plead, but you tried to make it sound as demanding and as annoying as you could to hide your concern.

"I will beloved, I promise."

And the next day he left early in the morning, he didn't even wake you up, only a note stuck on the fridge with a strawberry magnet reading; 'dont eat all the chocolates'

Oh course he'd write that, a soft huff leaving your nose before continuing to read; 'and the other rooms are opened for you.'

The other room? Oh, yes you nearly forgot about that one since he was worried you'll keep rampaging and destroying things like that poor rice cooker.

The days went by and you had explored every nock and crack in the whole underground labyrinth of a house; there was a library, a gym, a sauna, and a locked metal door that reeked of rott you didn't open. If he was so calm about kidnapping you, killing and torture wouldnt be beneath him either.

You sighed sitting on his bed reading a book you took out of the library waiting for his return, this felt normal, and you miss him.

A whiff of his pillow as you nuzzled laying on the side, missing him already would feel like a shame. It made you seem needy but you'd never admit that to his face since it would only stroke his ego if you did tell...

Your eye lids grew heavy like the small bit of doubt in your stomach.

Is he coming home?

Its cold when you're the only one warming the bed, what an asshole.

[kit-williams]

Modern!Space Marine AU

Blame @pluvio-tea because I've been reading her interpretations of what Titus and the gang would be doing in the modern day and I got enough people encouraging me... so...

@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @squishyowl @ms--lobotomy

@nekotaetae @sleepyfan-blog @remembrancer-of-heresy @felinisnoctis @solspina

@the-californicationist

lets begin

Note: a lot of them will be ex military though in honesty you could make them all ex military just if I mention they are ex military its more so they are a recent ex military

The Dark Angel; Azazel: In a modern setting I see him as still being active military but now behind a desk and more so working for the Intelligence community and interrogations but he tells people that he still does work as a military therapist which isn't exactly a lie. The excitable young woman that works with him is a nice distraction...

The Emperor's Children; Palion: Is a Tailor and a Costume Designer he loves to make fancy outfits that glitter in the light and is inspired by a tragic Muse...

The Iron Warrior; Harram: Military Contractor (still very much as a Dad bod in this universe) with a focus on construction so like infrastructure and building. He's recently moved and there is a nice widow right new door...

The White Scar; Nogai: Racing (he's a white scar) with a focus on motocross on both bikes and ATVs. However he also likes to do rally races with his navigator Honey... he may or might not enjoy the steadfast and commanding tone she takes when she’s in the co-driver seat and in the zone as they race a little too much...

The Space Wolf; Arkyn: Another Ex military (given that he was a captain) so at the moment he is learning how to transition back to being a civvie but he's recently learned he enjoys helping at the local wildlife rehabilitation center. The other retired military woman who works there helps sooth his wild soul...

The Imperial Fist; Astel: Black market Doctor and Chemist operating without a license. He makes house calls and is good for what he does but sometimes he likes to take on cases "out of the goodness of his heart" for way less money... such cute little mouse for him to work on...

The Night Lords; Ghosk: Actor but not just any actor he is a monster actor; aka the guy who is in full prosthetics moving like a cryptid even if he's under like 20 pounds of makeup and props and prosthetics. When he's not assigned to a movie role he likes to be a scare actor at one of those parks where he can touch the attendants... he likes watching the rabbits run...

Anrir: he is in the nitty gritty and dirty business of Organ Transplants like proper handling (just don't ask where he got those 30 kidneys)

The Blood Angel; Sirus: He is someone's Art muse. He get's so much money and time to make his pottery. He also is good at making memorial pieces like incorporating human ashes into a piece... that's because for his grand pieces he's already doing that. Sirus is also a Serial Killer with a pinch of cannibalism, he incorporates blood into the hues... human ash mixes nicely with his clay. He's hoping to ask his Moonlight muse for a photoshoot soon...

The Iron Hand; Marlos Vauth: Software Engineer. He focuses on programming for prosthetics but he's been moonlighting as a hacker as well and getting rather good at it. He's been bothering the IT girl recently...

The World Eater; Zul: Retired. He heavily insists that he is retired but he's still jacked and simply says he made smart investments so his money makes money. But how can he be retired he's young (40s) and scarred to hell and back. But he will get aggressive if you keep asking questions. He can often be found with a sickly young woman on his arm too...

The Ultramarine; Tulio: He is a high salaried investor who could retire if he wanted but he just hasn't done so yet... He has to make sure that the new girl is going to be fine...

The Death Guard; Solos: Unemployed. He is the guy in town who you never see at the same job twice and never for very long, yet he somehow has money all the time. His spats with his lady are legendary as they seem to break up and get back together all the time, even if she could do so much better than Solos, but people who intervene with his love life have a habit of going "missing" and Solos always has an alibi...

The Thousand Son; Nakht: He is a professor that deals with historical documentation as well as document repair. Though a few people have noticed that a lot of what he deals with is occult materials given how his main field of study has nothing to do at all with esoteric occultism...

The Black Legion; Zhur: Professional Dom... he's got his eyes on a particular client but he's got to pay the bills and his baritone voice can easily get anyone to obey him.

The Word Bearer; Jihias: Preacher (is anyone surprised?) well in fact the Preacher bit is a ruse as he is in fact a full blown cult leader. Such passion and fervor his preaching tend to be but if you think more and more of what he says... and by the time you realize the grotesque nature of his preaches get it's far too late... the shepherd loves you and wont ever abandon you...

The Salamander; Nubin: Master Blacksmith. Run's his own shop and also does free classes for the high school when they cut their shop classes so he just offered free courses and is trying to get some deal for the time spent in the shop to count towards credit hours.

The Raven Guards; Sor, Kazi, and Moremo: Private security guards though they have come under scrutiny for getting rather close to their latest client

The Alpha Legion; Omegon: Lawyer and a damn good one as some people say he hires professional investigators to look over a scene again he's never really lost a case.

The Black Templars; Roland: Retired Military and does stuff with guns either selling them, helping people train with them, also runs a Youtube Channel with Backerin called "Guns & Buns" which has their own niche because it will be Roland helping out with his wife's bakery/a slight vlog showing off his journey with retirement

Arnault: Retired Military turned erotica writer/author. Started writing when he was bored out of his mind during a recovery and found out he enjoys writing erotica.

The Carcharodon; Tyberos: Mafioso. (Rather he is either the head of the Carcharodons or an enforcer) but right now he's helping run a front which is a coffee shop but it's become a nice little community get together since it has decent food and good coffee and its great for people trying to sell stuff

[woundedsoul12]

I get by with a little help from my friends

Going to be loud on main for this one. I have met tons of wonderful people since my return to writing, AO3, and Tumblr. But going to introduce you to the 5 people that I speak to daily that keep me going. The reason I haven't given up yet and just crawled back into my obscure hole. And know if you aren't mentioned I still adore you. This is just my Crew

So now you get to learn a little about them and what makes them so special.

1. @tarasmom - Like the only person I get to beta for me (the few times I use a beta). Tara is my hyper fixation deep dive sister from another mister. Want to lore plunge into some obscure reference? Want to talk through the history of the Tevinter Empire? Tara got you. Tara just... gets me. Like look across the room lock eyes and have a whole conversation. Standing in the middle of jellyfish fields with our nets screaming with excitement like SpongeBob and Patrick. And tbh one of the first people I found when I returned to fandom. Her Rook is Mina Aldwir and she's the queen of expose style writing and complex plots

2. @captastra - yet another I found early in my return. I think she more found me. Like a feral kitten outside her door. She is my adventure buddy. My 'hey Beasty I want to do this get out your shell and come with me'. Multi fandom bestie! Dragging me along for a good time. Not letting me be a loser. Inspiration for so many things I put into the universe. Her Rook is Nesiri Ingellvar and I love her so much. And Feylis her Avowed is just... everything to me

3. @lustaniasaxon - the only person I will cowrite with. My resident Illario lover. My muse. The person who keeps me going when I'm tired. A fellow gender bender. The only one I have found who can channel the ADHD into something useful. Her Rook is Lustania de Riva. Lover to my boys Sam and Brick.

4. @julie-spirit-finn - My fellow Healthcare bitch. Keeping people alive one idiot at a time. Listening to me bitch constantly about real life and fandom. Reading every single thing I write and leaving the best damn comments. Ultimate cheerleader and hopeless romantic. The most positive person I know in the most non annoying way. Helping me sort my complex silly plotlines no matter how dumb. Introducing me to Dread Rook. Turning me into a Solas lover. I might have never shipped him with Lavellan (she goes with Cullen) but I definitely like him with Rook.

5. And last but not least @thebarghestiest - fellow transmasc extraordinare. No one else can understand like we can huh? Again reading everything I write. Always commenting. Always supporting me. Listening to my stupid ideas and being like 'look bro I love it' even when you should probably tell me to stfu. Being cool with Julie and I just inviting ourselves to the Sleep Token concert. Putting up with all my dumb shit and depression. And screaming about Davrook, AUs, and dead doves with me. His Rook is Titus Ingellvar. Oh and the Durge Ghost who loves my Halsin bear daddy

And I guess I will finish up with I'm Beasty. I write entirely too much and the restlessness is strong. I'm also an antisocial loner but these people? We just vibe

Also if you have time, go read their works. They are all fucking amazing writers.

[revalition]

OCT 3 - RHETORIC

Practice the art of persuasion. Enjoy rigorous intellectual discourse.

ahhh Rhetoric. I hated him in my first playthrough. I became a true blue moralist in my attempts to stay away from the politics he was constantly spewing. And ended up realizing Moralism was just as extreme as the other options. Now I'm very fond of him.

He's also very fun to draw with 4 arms!! (and he's not the only skill I've given 4 arms to, these poor guys) No WIPs in this one, but i can share if anyone wants to see haha.

As usual, lots of dialogue and musings under the cut!

This exactly, is why I hated Rhetoric at first. It was all I could see in him.

echem vs rhetoric!

lol

Perception repeatedly telling you that they can't smell communists never stops being funny to be.

I know it's Rhetoric day but Volition ily. He's the lone supporter of building communism.

ty rhetoric, dispelling these myths

inexplicable feminist rhetoric is my best friend. He doesn't care what it is, if Harry wants to stand for it rhetoric is ON BOARD. I do find it a little off-putting... but that's okay.

Second one is re. communism if you're a moralist.

the rhetoric fail against Titus is so painful. it's not as bad as the authority fail, but...

all of these damage morale too! gotta love how you get scolded for going off script if you choose anything but the fiddle option... and your delivery sucked if you do choose it. thanks rhetoric

aw :(

The highest rhetoric check! difficulty 18 (Impossible)

he backs down so easy sometimes, and it's completely random when it will be

listen to your stomach harry

If your rhetoric is high enough, he knows some German! his translation isn't quite right, I'm pretty sure. it seems to be a pale radiation incident...

In my, admittedly limited, search I actually found no reference to Rhetoric advising you to say any of these things. Harry comes up with this shit all on his own!

he just wants you to share your opinion...

also Rhetoric's nickname! He's called Goldmouth (or Gold Mouth) by Volition (x2) and Empathy, and Golden Mouth Man by Harry and Drama. From what I can tell, the name doesn't seem to have much meaning outside DE. But there is this mention in the Innocences book...

Perhaps it's a nickname Rhetoric gave to himself pre-Martinaise that has stuck, based off the Perikarnassian innocence? It's fun to think about.

Going to leave it there. There's a lot of other really good Rhetoric with Other Skills dialogue, but I put a lot of it in a previous post and don't want to repeat it, so it's been left out. If you read this far... you're crazy haha.

[audreyscribes]

Ω PJO MISC. DEMIGOD HEADCANONS:🎭MELPOMENE: MUSE GODDESS OF TRAGEDY🍇

a/n: When you start cooking with Satyrs and Goats and start being sneaky in this. Also we're back with our favourite (only) Camp Director, Mr. D! [PJO MISC + MUSE DEMIGOD H/CS MASTERIST: [AO3] \\ [TUMBLR]

Alright out of the muses, you have the flair for dramatics, particularly for the macabre variety. You’re often described as being dramatic yet very serious in your pose. How, no one knows but you pull it off.

Melpomene is the Muse of Tragedy, and while you know all of William Shakespeares’ tragedies not only Romeo & Juliet and Macbeth, you’re very good at remembering Julius Caesar, Timon of Athens, and Titus Androncius, you’re first and foremost familiar with the Ancient Greek Tragedies of Sophocles, Euripides, and Aeschylus.

In terms of play and theater management, you’re the one leading it most of the time out of the muses and in turn, you’re the one who interacts with Mr. D the most. Not surprising because particularly Greek Tragedy, were also used as ritual rites while both being carried out by and dedicated to Dionysus so if anything he’s going to have a few says. He’s the Theatre director and you’re the producer basically; or the other way around. It gets confusing sometimes.

Despite Mr. D’s casual reference they used to sacrifice goats, you came to a compromise: the goat would be used as a mascot for the plays and theaters, instead as a sacrifice, but in turn you would allow any Satyr to take any part if they chose to.  

In terms of weaponry, your preferred weapon is the sword as Melpomene is portrayed holding a sword. Alongside though, you’re also known to wear a mask into battle, another of Melpomene’s symbols. 

What no one expects is that you insist on wearing boots. Not just any boots like rainboots or uggs, but Buskin boots or something similar to Cothurnus boots; boots that go to at least your knee or half way up your calves as Melpomene is shown wearing them. You have a large variety of boots that fit any occasion and you can smoothly walk across the stage and fight just as well even in your platform boots. Many Aphrodite children and even Ares children ask for tips how you wear these boots so well. 

The Sirens could also be considered your half-siblings which explains somethings as your chanting during your theater productions charms the soul of your listeners, and also explains many of the tragedies the Siren orchestrate in front of them as they tempt sailors to their deaths. On the other hand, your singing/chanting reveal your audience the themes of human nature and the dealings with mortal rights and wrongs, thus giving them enlightenment in each individual.

What is unexpected is that because of your knowledge in tragedy, that deals human nature, moral rights and wrongs, and your in depth knowledge of Sophocles and Euripedes, you’ve also become a person who provides great psychological and philosophical thoughts and discussion. Mr. D has given you some coaching in peoples’ mental healths and dreams, so you’re not alone with that responsibility.

You’re often approached by Apollo children who want a couple of insights in their patients, approached by the Athena children for some deep thought, and in general, you often hold a theater session about these subjects. 

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

The Master Lists

Blueberry Pie:

Aeonid Thiel, Cato Sicarius, Demetrian Titus, Malum Caedo, Roboute Guilliman, Uriel Ventris

First Born Husbandry AU:

Alpharius, Draco Kai, Hura, Imhoden, Jerahmiel, Karlsor, Omegon, Petras, Petrico, Su'cona, Symith, Torglite, Zaarius, Zadakael, Zeth Eryn, Caligo

First Born Mer-creature AU:

Alpharius, Draco Kai, Hura, Imhoden, Jerhamiel Karlsor, Omegon, Petras, Petrico, Su'cona, Symith, Zaarius, Zadakael, Zeth, Eryn, Caligo

Primaris Marine Husbandry AU:

Atlas, Catius, Claude, Kerubiel, Imamiah Jophiel, Nanael, Oleandros, Ramiel, Thressl Remur, Belus, Gilgamar, Arakus, Tae, Taalian, Delel

Primaris Marine Mer-creature AU:

Catius, Claude, Kerubiel, Jophiel, Imamiah Nanael, Oleandros, Ramiel, Thressl, Remur, Belus, Gilgamar, Arakus, Tae, Taalian Delel

Soul Mate AUs:

Horror will do a mix of cannon characters in Warhammer setting and also Husbandry :) Sad will do a mix of cannon characters in Warhammer setting and also Husbandry :) Happy will do a mix of cannon characters in Warhammer setting and also Husbandry :)

Random:

Ultra-moo-rines Musings (Demi)God(ess) Is A Girl Forcibly Turned Into a Demon (Not) Normal Animals Here An (In) Glorius Duty AU Captured Alive is Worse Isekai

[alessabriel]

polaroid love.

Summary: When she called his name it made his heart race.

Cw. flulff, soft.

He had never been a fan of photos, eventually and his arrival in Gotham under the care of his father had learned to hate them by the detestable press that seemed not to have much more chaos to cover. He hated the photos, he didn't like them and when he appeared in them he looked so tense that his family learned the hard ones that he didn't like them.

That was until you came into his life, a flash in purple tones from cold to warm that hit him squarely in the face blinding him.

You were a brilliant person without trying and you lit up every damn room with your mere presence without counting on the trail of magic that danced around you as if it protected you, with your sweet and melodious voice you broke the silence around him and he loved it in a thousand possible ways and he felt lucky when you said his name,  with so much love and adoration that you caused his heartbeat to go completely crazy, as if the organ wanted to leave his chest and settle on your bare hands. It was a bloody, romantic metaphor you had said once, that time when you created a pendant out of thin air to wear around your neck and never take it off.

And so, with your arrival he began to take a liking to photos of any kind from the casual ones in which he caught you off guard leaving your pristine beauty exposed, the formal ones in which you wore the gala uniform of your private school (specialized in magic and even more private than his) or dresses to match their costumes when they could not escape the galas,  those where he could catch you sleeping peacefully on his chest or shoulder, when they came out in pajamas in front of the bathroom mirror with their faces still sleepy but he could not help but smile and those that made a special place in his memory; in which you went out with Titus on your lap, his great companion saw you with dreamy eyes as if you were some kind of goddess in his eyes (he believed the same) and those where Alfred his little sloe companion became putty on your body snuggling between your arms or on your chest. Those photos were polaroid and he kept them in his purse suspiciously, another pair well hidden in his private locker in the cave. He also began to like going out with you in selfies either in which he partially saw their faces, with silly filters (because in what world did you, the most divine being on this earth need a filter? I didn't understand, but it made you laugh and I was happy) or in which you always sealed your smooth lips on his cheek with your eyes always closed and he with a serious face or an attempt at it.

It was easy to start loving the photos where you went out because you were her beloved, the sun that her moon needed, the breath of fresh air on a hot day, the drizzle in a desert and the complement she did not know she needed in her life. The part of an equation sought, the longed-for inspiration and its eternal muse. Loving you had been so difficult at first, but you made your way through his heart like a warrior, you crossed his barriers and you took him out to live his life without the interference of others, you taught him many things; Learning that being wrong was okay, that it was part of being human his feelings and that it was not wrong to feel it, that he deserved love, tenderness and care.

You deserve to be yourself and be loved with the intensity of a thousand suns, and if you allow me I want to be the one who loves you Damian.

Those words still comfort him in those days when everything lacerated him, and his mind reproduced them until he slept, because he would never tire of remembering them.

Damian had read a lot as a child because it was the only way to approach a normality shown in books, one that he longed for, but did not know, and in those days that his psyche still kept hidden he remembered reading romantic books where the protagonists loved each other with everything and mistakes, with darkness, with defects and with hands full of blood.  even with his back loaded with thousands of ghosts from the past. Books where love never won, but never stopped fighting for a single opportunity.

They were certainly tragic books, yes, but they showed how much the characters loved each other.

And he knew that he wanted to be by your side years ago, when the uneasiness of not being loved as he wished for his parents was still fresh in his heart (father minimized him to just a tantrum child and his mother knew she would throw him under a train if he gained power with it), when with the damn sword of Deathstroke lodged in his chest and feeling himself lower by his own weight on the edge,  when I look at you he has the means of falling and unconsciousness; boiling in such a horrendous wake of magic that it suddenly advanced until it flooded the whole place and swallowed the mercenary whole. He never knew how he got to the ground or how you pulled out the sword, but he does remember your warmly cold hands on the hole left by the sword and the boiling sensation of tears falling on his skin like a strange sensation running through him whole. You whispered in another language that I did not identify, but distinguished supplications.

Don't take my best friend, please.

No one could know how you saved his life when his death was assured by the severity of his injuries, but no one got answers. You always deflected the subject by being annoying, talking like a chatter about your cartoons that you loved to watch until you got fed up with anyone who asked you, except him, and I always got the same answer –someday I could tell you Dami, but not today, please– and I respect that, even when I was 11 years old and longed to know.

Now today everything was complex, but at the same time easy, he learned a lot by your side. I felt like you always added to him, never subtracted from him. That feeling made him tremble from head to toe despite the assassin training that he took all his life, you simply made that old-fashioned feeling completely envelop his heart by removing any filter from his system, he could not retain the love he felt, nor the absolute and unconscious adoration he professed when he kept his gaze fixed on your figure taking care of your micro expressions and gestures,  In search of some discomfort or discomfort to help you, because every move he learned over years and never realized until he knew he was completely and madly in love with you.

He knew about your overflowing powers, how magic absolutely adored you, and how you understood it even more than your mother or grandfather. You were a being full of magic, in every aspect.

I knew that loud noises stunned you in an uncomfortable way, you didn't enjoy arguments, and you usually tended to be silent out of nowhere because they got lost, but you came back to yourself to continue any conversation.

He knew that you completely detested paperback books with very loaded or tasteless designs, he could reproduce in his memory your complaints about new books, the same complaints that he would listen carefully to protect the information.

Since they were friends I knew that you really disliked completely that your mother intervened in your training or missions, because from the beginning she abandoned you with Constantine (who surprisingly was a good father, somewhat absent but good) and therefore you had a tense relationship with her.

He always had in mind that you were cold and carried a jacket (his and even with traces of his cologne because he knew you loved it) in the back of his car.

Really everything he learned from you was almost by inertia, you were always attentive to him in many aspects which he loved, because nobody had taken the trouble to know all his preferences; From food to clothes, how he liked certain products over others, how he was constantly bored and carried a small book of artwork in your bag or car for him, how he sometimes worried because he could not let his guard down until your magic in the form of soft mist settled on the inside of his arm giving him comfort.

They were a litany of things they learned from each other.

Damian knew that with you in his life he opened up to new things, that having your hand holding his tightly there would be nothing he feared.

A semi-empty fair was one of the last places their families would look for them, both did not like those types of places at all. The perfect choice.

"Hurry up Mian!" you said with emotion, pulling the Wayne boy out of his dazed state.

With a soft snort without ulterior motives the tallest followed your light trot towards a photo booth crudely decorated with fair colors, but it had a certain gloomy charm for the old and once in front of it was nothing to take out your wallet you were faster paying and smiling shamelessly for it.

"I invited you to this date pretty boy, so I pay" you commented triumphantly before removing the curtain to give him access first "You First"

Damian could only smile at your tender antics and entered first without wasting time pulling you inside, there was a padded seat where he sat and pulled you into his lap, they could both see the options and after a little talk they opted for a simple polaroid that would give them two. He kept his gaze on the countdown and without a word took you by the cheeks with utmost care and kissed you, savoring the light, velvety texture of your lipstick against his own lips in every uncalculated move, and viciously swallowed your needy little gasp.

"Mian" you sighed dreamily when the kiss ended, your hands trembled on the fabric of his shirt and you looked with a smile as your boyfriend's lips looked reddish.

"Beloved" replied softly the tallest without avoiding kissing your sweet smile.

Between laughter and stolen kisses they left the photo booth, with a polaroid in hands.

Damian considered that you not only took a copy of the polaroid in your hands but his heart in your hands.

[womanofwords]

Frozen Heart (Part 15)

TW: yandere behaviour.

Damian was pacing in his room. He was your blood sibling, and yet he was the one that you hated the most. Granted, he deserved it; he'd insulted you, humiliated you, compared you to various disgusting pests, and sicced Titus onto you for his own amusement.

"What do I do to make them love me?" Damian mused. Titus trotted over to his side. "No, Titus, not you. Y/N fears you. And me."

What could be used as an advantage? Obviously not his identity; you hate him and his face. Maybe hair dye or a mask would help. Something to make him less like . . . himself.

"What are you doing?" Dick asked, as Damian scrapped idea after idea.

"I'm adopting a new identity," Damian said. "So Y/N loves me. Maybe if they believe Robin wants to be their best friend, I can get closer to them. But if Robin doesn't work, I'll need another alias."

Dick snickered. "Nobody would ever believe something like that. Robin is known for being aloof at best and unpleasant at worst."

"I'm sure I could manage something. Maybe I could say that I blackmailed Robin into being Y/N's personal protector."

Dick checked his fingernails with apathy. "That does sound like you. But what if they don't believe you, or Robin?"

"They will," Damian said.

*_*_*_*_*_

He struck when you were out of the house. Cass and Steph were wheeling you to a follow-up doctor's appointment. "Come on, Y/N, you have to!" Steph said. "Don't be mad at us!"

"I'm not mad because I'm going to a doctor's appointment. I'm mad because I'm going to a doctor's appointment with you and not someone trustworthy, like Alfred," you said.

"We can be trustworthy! Just let your big sisters look after you!" Steph hugged you tightly.

"Unhand them!" Robin dropped in on the three of you. "Can't you see that you're causing Y/N Wayne even more stress and trauma? Haven't they gone through enough?"

"What the hell are you-" Steph was cut off by a slap to the face.

"Speak when you're spoken to. How dare you claim to love Y/N when you smother them in public in such an obnoxious manner? I'll take it from here. You're safe with me, Y/N."

The smugness emanating off of Robin was so palpable you could have spread it on toast and eaten it for breakfast. "Your siblings are so bothersome," he said. "Luckily, I talked to Damian. He is very eager to make amends."

You looked at Robin as if he were the dumbest person alive. "You talked to Damian and he said that? Sorry, Robin, but he definitely lied to you. Damian is the smallest and most potent jerk I know. I have dreams about exorcising him so the demon comes out and I get a normal, sweet little brother."

"He . . . sounds cold," Robin said, his heart breaking. "Don't you think he reminds you of someone else in your life?"

"He reminds me of Karl, my bully from school. I bet they'd be best friends," you snarked. "They could bond over hating me."

"I'm going to arrange for you to receive private transportation so your siblings don't bother you," Robin said. He sounded uncomfortable, perhaps even disgusted. "Is there anybody you would like me to find? Like a different sibling or your father?"

"I would like to go alone. I don't trust my siblings," you said. "Watching someone go from distant to way too close is nauseating."

"Understood. I'll get you a cab," Robin said. "You won't have to see them. And I'll see what I can do about Damian."

"You really don't have to," you said, as you slowly extricated yourself from your wheelchair into the cab. "Bye, Robin. Don't expect Damian to change or be nice. It's a waste of time."

"It won't be," Robin muttered, taking his domino mask off to wipe the tears pooling behind it. "It'll be worth it."

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Taglist: @tinybrie, @bunniotomia, @kittzu, @justwannabecat, @exactlynumberonekryptonite, @vanessa-boo, @jscrawls, @sirenetheblogger.

[protectxthem]

//I wanna make an oc muse using titus welliver as his fc. But I don't know what I want his occupation to be.

[imaginethisisagoodname]

Big spoilers for C2 below (this includes the tags, I try to be vague in them but if you really want to avoid spoilers skip them)

I also don’t have a good conclusion to this so it’s mainly just some guesses but not really anything else

So when we find out Elgas real name, Calliope and Barney’s kids names, Titus and Samson, they sound like weird names, which they would be now, because they’re really old. Titus was a Roman emperor who ruled from 79-81 CE and is known for being the conquer of Jerusaleum and in Greek it means title of honor, and Samson was an Israelite warrior and judge and was really strong and his name means sun And it’s kinda cool that Micah gave them these names and I don’t know if they mean anything, but they might. Also both of them are from the Bible so that’s kinda cool.

I suppose Samson could be a play on words like sun vs son but I really don’t know.

But they also have Elgas birth name Calliope, wich is the name of the oldest of the nine muses, and the muse of epic poetry and eloquence which isn’t super Elga. I don’t really know why Micah gave her this name, but it probably wasn’t a name from internet people so it must have some purpose.

Calliope dose mean beautiful voice in Greek so it could’ve just been that he was referencing Elgas nice acent?

Her mom was also the goddess of memory which is kinda ironic and could also be Micah referencing the fact that she lost her memory?

But some other stuff about her that doesn’t mean anything (as far as I can tell) is that in some interpretations she is a water nymph, her dad is Zeus, she’s the mom of Linus and Orpheus, she was often depicted with her sisters, some say she was homers muse for the Iliad and the Odyssey, she was sometimes referred to as the mother/chief of all muses, she was also sometimes said to be the mother of the sirens and her symbols were the lyre, tablet and stylus.

I’m willing to bet Micah named her off my first 2 guesses but he could’ve had some other plan and I just think it’s interesting that when given to name Barneys sons he named them after biblical people but for his daughter he names her after a Greek muse. And the Elga thing just feels kinda interesting to me but if anyone else knows anything else please tell me.

Also here’s some pictures of calliope in greeek mythology just because I think it’s interesting

[ladytauria]

44 with timdami? if the muse strikes~

the muse struck and struck hard. this ended up about 2k words XD

my brain went "terminal illness? oh! hanahaki 😌" so i hope that's okay <3

there is also not really a... resolution to this. i debated between happy and sad, but, as the words kept coming... i ultimately ended up going open instead <3

thank you for the prompt!

Tim coughs up the first petals on a Sunday afternoon.

He’s sitting outside—Dr Thompkins says he needs more vitamin D, and despite what the others might think, Tim does try to stay on top of his health. Damian is sitting outside too; though not on the porch where Tim is. Instead, he’s sitting under a tree, sketchbook balanced on his knees and Titus lying by his side.

Dappled sunlight dances on his skin, and Tim’s fingers itch for his camera.

Then his throat itches too; diaphragm spasming as he coughs into his arm. Something flutters in his throat; on his tongue. He worries for a moment he’s coughing up phlegm—and then he tastes something… sweet. Floral.

He thinks. He might have preferred the phlegm.

After a quick glance to make sure no one sees, he spits the petals into a napkin. They were likely a bright, vibrant white before they sat in his mouth. A few speckles of blood dot them; vivid even with the darkening of their color.

Tim crumples the napkin, crushing them within.

Then he tucks it into his pocket, takes the rest of his tea, and heads inside.

~

The petals don’t stop coming.

Of course they don’t. Once they start— It’s hard to get rid of them. Tim knows that.

It’s inconvenient anyway.

Even more inconvenient is the way that suddenly, Damian is everywhere, just when Tim wants to avoid him most. Or doesn’t, he supposes, because… he never seems to excuse himself. Not until the coughing starts, anyway, and then he finds a way to leave without calling too much attention to himself.

It’s only a matter of time before one of the others notices something is wrong. They’re all too damn nosy and observant by far—something Tim appreciates when it comes to solving a case, not so much when it comes to butting in his personal life.

It’s also harder to lie to them. Not impossible. Tim’s done it enough that he knows just how to do it best; what each of them needs to hear to make them believe it. He’s practically an expert.

This, though.

It’s harder to conceal.

Especially as the tickle in his throat grows more frequent, his chest growing tighter. The petals get larger, too. It won’t be long before flowers form. As soon as that happens—

Tim will have to disappear.

Oh—sure. He could confess. The flowers in him will wither and die without that built-up longing to cling to. But—

He would have to leave anyway, wouldn’t he? He doesn’t think he could stand it, working day in and day out with him after a rejection. Doesn’t want that cloud hanging over any of them—or to put Damian in that position in the first place. Sure; rejection won’t kill him, that’s a myth, but. For Damian to know that Tim’s feelings ran deep enough that they had taken root and bloomed within him—?

Tim can think of many ways to describe Damian, not all of them flattering, but— Cruel isn’t one of them. Not anymore.

He might accept Tim’s confession in some misplaced kindness—out of pity, and that— Would be worse than any rejection could be, actually.

So no. Either way, Tim has to disappear. At least this way his dignity will be intact.

He always figured he’d have a short life. Granted, the method of death he pictured was different, but— well. Actually. With Ivy around, asphyxiation by flower isn’t really that different from something he could have faced as Red Robin.

There is also the surgical option, too—but Tim would rather die than become unfeeling. While some claimed that the surgery caused only dulled feelings, especially with modern technology, there isn’t enough information for him to be willing to take the risk.

Leaving is best, then. For everyone.

~

Tim does not have as many contingency plans as Bruce—but he comes a close second. Among them, there are many plans for disappearing and starting over somewhere new.

Picking one is the hardest part.

From there? Smooth sailing.

He quietly divides his cases between the others. Some, he offers outright. Others, those less pertinent, he quietly slips onto their systems, as if they had always been there. He does the same with his patrol route.

Tim works with Babs fairly often these days—especially with the blooms growing larger; the coughs more frequent. He blames it on the changing weather, and Oracle is happy enough to have an additional pair of hands. Tim exploits access to her system to make subtle tweaks to everyone’s patrols until his is virtually non-existent.

He also packs. Lightly, of course; just a few things to look at, to reminisce about the past in his dying days. 

He has a will, and some pre-recorded messages. He shortens the period of inactivity which will automatically send them; tweaks the messages a bit; and moves on.

Tim allows himself a few indulgences, too—spending more time with the others, not skipping group meals, taking more time off of work. He knows it raises a few eyebrows, but— Tim is practiced at explaining his oddities away.

All in all, it’s quite easy.

And when the time comes—

He disappears, quietly; into the dawning light, when everyone else is tucked into bed. When the city—never truly sleeping—is beginning to bustle again.

Tim burst into their lives with a bang.

He steps out of them without even a whimper.

~

Damian is the first to realize that Drake is missing.

He wishes he could say it was because he noticed—but he cannot. He discovers it when he pays a visit to Drake’s theater penthouse, and finds it empty and cold. Devoid of life.

His home has always been somewhat austere… but this is different.

Damian knows that something is wrong. He is—afraid. He texts the others immediately, asking them when the last time they heard from Drake was. It does not take them long to realize that Drake’s disappearance is unrelated to their vigilante lives; that, for all intents and purposes, it seems to be willing. Which meant— there must have been signs. Damian turns through his memories with a growing sense of desperation.

Drake is—

Complicated.

Their initial relationship was fraught. Damian will take the larger share of blame for that. When he did, eventually, somewhat reluctantly, get to know Drake—it. Changed. He gravitated towards the older man, and his perspective; often unique from either his Father or Richard. He found him a good listener, too, and while he could be dismissive—Damian’s words usually held weight to him.

It—

Was nice.

Up until Drake’s presence started to make his insides squirm. Until he found himself with ears pricked for compliments from Drake. Until he found himself gravitating to Drake’s presence—choosing to take patrols with him even when Richard was in town.

Until he spoke to Jon and realized he had all the symptoms of a schoolboy crush.

He placed distance between them, then. It wasn’t hard, though it hurt when Drake did not appear to notice beyond a few things. But it was better than facing heartbreak.

And then—

Drake drew closer.

Damian kept his distance.

Now… Regret coats his tongue in ash. If he had not pulled away… might he have noticed sooner? Might he have been able to stop whatever caused Drake to disappear?

There is no sense in ruminating on it.

The important thing is to find Drake.

With Oracle in his ear, Damian makes his way to Tim’s Perch. Logging into his computer, even with Oracle’s aid, is generally a tedious affair.

This time it is not.

He can tell by the way Gordon quiets that she likes this no more than he does.

Drake’s face appears on the screen. He looks paler. The circles around his eyes are darker. He sits in the same chair Damian sits in now, wearing civilian clothes. Something comfortable—a t-shirt that should have been thrown out years ago, a pair of leggings that conform beautifully to the curves of his legs.

“If you’re watching this,” he says, “you’ve noticed I’m gone.”

Damian’s fingers itch to pause the recording.

He does not.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s…” Drake’s face scrunches. “...shitty of me to disappear without notice like this. I promise you it was for the best.” He pauses. He looks—almost hesitant.

Damian does not want to hear what he has to say next.

He keeps listening anyway.

“I’m dying.”

Damian’s heart falls to his feet. He thinks he hears it shatter there—a silly, poetic notion brought on by reading too many of Todd’s recommendations, he’s sure, but nonetheless. Blood roars in his ears. He hears little of what Drake says next. Something about pre-recorded messages, spaced out by time, and easily accessed by Gordon.

When Gordon directs him, Damian lets her instructions carry him through.

He sends the messages; all sent to personal devices, save for a few directly to the Batcomputer. And then he makes his way back to the manor. The trip is a blur. He realizes, only when he is seated on the couch, strange looks sent his way, that he has taken a blanket from Drake’s apartment. It is a fluffy purple abomination—a gift from Brown, he’s sure. Rather than explain himself, or tuck it away, Damian unfolds it over his lap; stroking it the same way he does Alfred, when he deigns Damian’s lap a better place to sit than a patch of sun or soft cushion.

Richard’s arm settles around his shoulders, tucking him into his side as if Damian is still small. Normally he would bristle; especially since he is half a head taller than Richard himself. Today he settles without argument, letting the solid presence of his older brother be a comfort.

Brown leans against the back of the couch. Her fingers comb through his hair. He does not fight this either.

Instead he listens.

Gordon has accessed his medical records; a liberty she normally does not take. He has been diagnosed with no terminal illnesses across most of his aliases.

“Most?” Richard asks.

Gordon’s mouth pinches. “There is one. I don’t think Tim knows I know about it—though I wouldn’t rule it out. He went to a clinic in Boston, and was diagnosed with Hanahaki. He picked up medicine, then bought a bus ticket. After that, I believe he shed that identity. I haven’t been able to pick his trail back up… yet.” Gordon says ‘yet’ with such certainty, Damian believes her.

“Hanahaki…” Jason repeats. He swipes a hand down his face. “Fucking figures. One of us would be too emotionally constipated to just get over it and confess, wouldn’t we?”

Damian frowns. He pulls away from Richard’s side, Brown’s fingers slipping from his hair. “Drake left— because he was a coward?”

The words are vile and bitter on his tongue. It is an unpleasant feeling that does not even come close to touching the fire in his chest. There are two cures for the disease of love—

The first, to confess. Face rejection, or reciprocation. Allow yourself, your feelings, to be known.

The second, to have the blooms removed, and risk dulling or losing the ability to feel forever.

To choose death—

“Damian, that’s not—”

“Quiet,” he snaps. He stands, thrusting the blanket at Richard, who takes it with startled eyes. “I am going to find him, and then I am going to wring his neck.” He spins on his heel and stalks out of the room.

How dare he. How dare he.

Damian does not think he has ever been angrier. Drake, who has more audacity and daring and stubbornness than anyone Damian has ever met—who’s passion and conviction and love has held this pseudo-family together even when they were separated by the eons of time—would rather disappear, leave them all to mourn instead of swallow his foolish pride and let someone—someone with whom he has fallen in love—to see the truth of him.

Damian will find him, and his object of affection, and he will tear the words from Drake’s throat if need be.

He does not get to die.

Not like this.

[poxinox]

Servile

MxM - Titus x Ambiguous Unnamed Character - Short one shot Tags/Warnings: 18+ only, Non Con/Dub Con, Non Consensual Groping, Size Difference. Submissive Titus. Ao3 A femboy makes a space marine get on his knees. Very brief scene, just some teasing and toying with Titus. Enjoy.

- - -

The Ultramarine barely cleared the doorframe that led into the bedchamber and from across the room he saw the younger man who had summoned him. A curious fellow who had taken more than a passing interest in the Astartes and held enough authority to have him summoned as he wished. 

"Sir." Titus kept his posture stiff and at attention. 

"Demetrian." His name was spoken in that cold and firm voice. The young man did not even afford him a glance as he stared out the window.

Titus narrowed his gaze. This aloof display did not amuse him, not when he was forced away from his chapter if only briefly to appease the whims of this boy . Titus knew he was much older but those youthful and dainty features often made him forget who he was dealing with. 

Regardless, this whole arrangement had already been grating.  

"Are you not done toying with me?" Titus could not hide the resentment in his tone. 

With that, the young man turned and gave Titus a knowing smile. "Oh, you speak as if you do not enjoy this." His tone had warmed and seemed amused but still carried the weight of his authority. They gestured at Titus to come closer and pointed to a chair. One sturdy enough for him. 

"Sit."

Titus furrowed his brow as he complied. The ground quaked with each heavy step of his armored body before he settled into the chair. 

"Good boy." Oh. Titus felt his heart race and his posture stiffen again. That was all it took. One patronizing piece of praise. He barely contained the bullish snort once his chin was grabbed, forced to lock eyes with the young man. 

"I know what you want, Demetrian. I always have." He leaned in closer, his breath brushed against the Astartes's ear. 

"An angel eager for chains around him." 

Titus pulled back in discomfort only to grit his teeth once he was forced to lock lips with him. A kiss stolen. Possessive. Hungry.  

It did not linger long as the young man then pulled back with a satisfied smirk and tapped on Titus's chestplate. "Be a dear would you?" He did not need to explain himself further. Titus had understood the command and obeyed. 

That massive height loomed over the young man as piece by piece the Astartes shed his armor. Each piece crashed and threatened to crack the flooring as they fell. A ritual in itself, best suited for the tech priests but this would have to do. The young man did not hide his leering or intent behind this summons. Like each time before, they would have Titus as they please and the Astartes would comply as he always did.

Once Titus had stripped down to the black body suit that served as a second skin, his progress was halted by a palm against his abdomen. "That'll do for now." The young man then gestured to the floor next. 

Once again, Titus complied without resistance but did not hide the scowl across his features. His lack of amusement is of no concern to the other man who reached over and gave those massive shoulders a firm squeeze once Titus was knelt on the ground. 

"Such strength and power in a man who is so servile." They mused and tilted Titus' chin up. "But you love it don't you? Your eternal servitude."

"To the Emperor." Titus hissed through gritted teeth as he made sure to correct and emphasize where his loyalties lied. The young man narrowed his gaze but decided to let the slip in decorum slide for now. 

"Up, hands behind your back." 

Titus moved back to his feet and the change in position graced the other man with the sight of Titus's anatomy strained against his suit. "Oh you're already so…" They trailed off and let a hand linger on Titus's thigh. "It's almost pathetic how eager you are, we've barely started." The glare and grunt of discomfort from the Astartes said it all to him. 

"Oh? Not going to beg me to touch it? Last time you were quite quick to mewl for me." 

Titus refused to look at him and stared forward as he scoffed. 

Brat. 

Titus still did not look down as his thighs were clenched and that grip trailed closer and closer to his bulge. "You want me to touch you again, your body screams for me." The young man said through a hushed voice before they took a single finger and let it run along the valley of that bulge. 

Titus immediately bucked into his touch but still refused to watch him.

"Oh, if only Lord Calgar wasn't so fond of you. I'd have you here as long as I pleased." 

Titus finally caved and looked down. "And why would that stop you?" The Astartes lost his composure and gasped once the other's grip took hold of his bulge in earnest. 

"Oh? Eager to be under my wing so bad?"

Titus gritted his teeth and let out a deep exhale. "You don't seem the sort to care for what I've wanted anyway." 

Still with their grip on his bulge, the young man cocked his head.  "Then you can leave. I cannot physically stop you." 

Titus glared back at him. "You know it is not that simple." 

He was greeted by a wide grin from the other man. 

"Oh how quickly you learn, Demetrian."

[ofgrenvde]

closed starter @c0exiist - catriona ignacio

Titus balanced a box of cupcakes and a stuffed horse in his arms as he rang Catriona's doorbell. "I brought some treats, although I suppose I'll have to eat these red velvet cupcakes myself since someone's still on milk," he teased when she opened the door. He'd grown used to bringing gifts during his visits, while Lizbeth dedicated herself to perfecting her baby babble. The musical stuffed horse would have to wait until she could sit up properly on her own, but it filled him with simple joy to watch her grasp at the soft plush with tiny fingers. Watching the little girl grow, even at this early stage, made him question the gaps in his own past, the missing pieces that nagged at him whenever he saw family photos on her walls. But seeing that baby's toothless grin pushed those darker musings aside. Her innocent babbles had become his remedy for sleepless nights spent wondering who he used to be. He set the gifts on her coffee table, while he pictured Lizbeth's wide-eyed fascination with the horse's fuzzy mane. "What new sounds has my favorite tiny human discovered today?"