— Lang Leav

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Stellar collision

The Western horizon was on fire: hot pink turned into mauve, wild orange into gold, the bright colours fading into paleness, then darkness. It was the day they whisper their vows before the gods, both Raven and Damian believed that love was not what stood at the foundation of their pledge, at least not the kind that fate had in store for them. No, that’s what they want to believe, what truly mattered most at this point was peace, peace through political marriage rather than an overwhelming affection. Peace. Damian, the youngest son of King Bruce and the noblest of all of Gotham’s princes, living or dead. As King Bruce was only left with Damian and Richard. Raven, a demigod, sired by Trigon the Terrible and mortal Arella.

The fragile truce between Gotham and Azarath balanced on the tip of a blade, depending on this union of convenience. Kon-El, former suitor, was wearing a scowl that would freeze unquenchable fire from the House of Hades. She could feel Trigon’s dark eyes burning into her face, the harsh, singeing heat of a desert behind it. She wanted to run, but she was also afraid of him giving chase. What was the point anyway. Before coming to Gotham, she knew how to fly, wings spread wide, flying away, her shoulders have borne heavy burdens, heavy burdens of solid stone. On how she prayed to fly away from them, and roam the freedom of the sky, but her father had cut off both her wings and left her rooted to the ground. There would no longer mountain's peaks with the promise of wondrous views to keep. It all came to an end the day her father told she had been promised to Damian, prince of Gotham, the great, Gotham the glorious, Gotham the magnificent. She should be honored, but her thoughts and feelings on the matter were inconsequential as the advice of a woman in wartime.

A week later she found herself at her wedding feast. Brothers and sisters her husband had in plenty, raised to be warriors they fought during war to lose their short lives. Jason, Helena and Timotheos had fallen. She only met her husband her wedding day. He was reserved but polite and not overly perfumed, and when her eyes fell on him she thought of Narcissus. Narcissus, who had been unable to pull away from his own reflection in the pond, enchanted by his own beauty until death claimed him. Although the way her tutor had prattled on and on about Damian’s innumerable virtues, Raven had not expected him to be as radiant as a god. The sun-kissed skin stretched to wrap around muscles built from years of practicing complex military skills, broad shoulders and powerful arms, movements of disconcerting grace for one so large. His facial features had a frank and honest quality to them, bright and deep-set eyes, as green as spring leaves with the touch of Persephone, a Greek nose, full lips. Indeed he could be called a god. Reluctantly, tore her gaze from his beautiful face despite the beet-red blush spreading over her cheeks. She focused on her new family.

Sorry not sorry I’ve been reading a lot about Greek mythology and I couldn’t help but write a damirae smut. 🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️ im working on it. Let me know if you like it.

@ravenfan1242 @chromium7sky @kallura-juniblade @shewhowillnotbenamed1 @tweepunkgrl

#hope snapping a man’s neck with her thighs is something that can be so personal

I   l o v e   y o u

When your weird obssession has become apparent to everyone but you just don't c are because this is so FREAKING AWESOME!!!! Thank you!!😁😁

A Hope x Landon board I made and am dedicating to @booklover-sleeplover who I’ve noticed has liked a lot of my post and also has a really cool blog and loves Handon.

Am I hungry or just trying to fill an emotional void?

— happy birthday @angsty-nerd 🌸

♪ There’s something tragic, but almost pure. Think I could love you, but I’m not sure. There’s something wholesome, there’s something sweet. Tucked in your eyes that I’d love to meet. ♪