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midoristeashop · 6 months

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YIPPEE YAY I LIKE THESE ONES

Most of my childhood was watching The Dark Crystal and other 80s style dark fantasy films so when I tell you this AU is comfort for me :,)

#hijack #jackycup #frostcup #dark fantasy au #fae jack is a MUST #knight and trusty dragon best friend want adventure and run into (hot) winter fae #said knight gets sidetracked and frantically tries to find out how to woo said fae #that’s it #I have more doodles I’ll post them soon #wip game

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boxofbonesfic · 9 months

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Title: Brave [1 of ?]

Pairing: Orc!Steve x Reader

Summary: You learn the hard way what it takes to survive this new life.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Genre typical violence, Warlord Nomad AU, Dark Fantasy AU, Enemies to lovers, More tags to be added

A/N: i had too much fun with this concept so i decided to stretch it out into more than one part! i really hope you guys enjoy.

“You understand what I’m telling you, Sweetmeat?” He says, tapping the underside of your chin with the flat of his blade. His bright blue eyes seem to dance with amusement. “I’m telling you to run.” You jump, gasping as he turns the sword with a flick of his wrist, bringing it down in one smooth motion to cut the thick length of rope between your outstretched hands. It falls to the dry grass between your feet, and he straightens back up in the saddle. The massive Clydesdale paws impatiently at the dirt as he laughs again.

“Run.”

You do, with the orc-pack’s laughter burning in your ears. The grass crunches beneath your feet as you sprint. You gather your dusty skirts up around your knees as you make for the tree line. The sound of a horn spurs you onward.

“The river, Sweetmeat!” His voice carries to you from across the hill. “You’ve only to make it to the river!”

Dry branches tear at your face and clothes as you force your way into the brush. The fear disorients you, but only for a moment. They will run you down if you take the path, sure as daylight. Instead, you make the choice to stick to the trees, moving between them as quietly as you can. You’d seen what the blue-eyed-orc had done to the others—one by one offering them the same choices—

Run and die. Run or die—

No one got to live.

It made a sick sort of sense, you supposed, if you used Orc-logic. They were weak—unworthy of the water it would take to sustain them, of the burden it would take for a rider to bear them. You had watched as first the baker’s boy, then the cobbler, and then the smithy each followed the blue-eyed-orc’s instruction, stumbling down the mountain path and disappearing into the trees—only to be brought back at dusk, their remains thrown to the wargs.

Your father had been good for little else but finding his next ale, but he’d paid his guild taxes same as everyone. And a fat lot of good it did him. The few soldiers stationed at the outpost nearest your village had been felled laughably easily, almost as easily as your father. And now he was gone, and you were here, a day’s ride south of the charred remains of your village.

The horn blows behind you a second time, and you swallow your terrified sob. No—you mustn’t panic. It is fear and panic that will get you caught. Your mother’s voice rings in your ears. Find green, she whispers as you crawl through the trees. Find green.

And you will find water.

The trees aren’t dead, not really, not at the roots. There’s thick brown moss growing at the roots, between the sparse patches of dry grass. You fall to your knees, ripping at it. The top layer is dry and brown, flaking away easily under your fingernails. But underneath—

Green.

The sound of hoofbeats approaching on the nearby path quickens your step. North—the river is north. You gather what is left of your torn skirts in your hands, trying to stay low and quiet. You have seen the thick-shafted arrows strapped to the backs of the broad-shouldered orc warriors, and you’ve no desire to feel them bury themselves in your back.

“Fan out!”

Half-blind you push forward, your own ragged breath deafening in your ears. You’re not going to make it—there is no river, there never was, there’s nothing for you to find out here, nothing—

And then you see it.

The river is drawn back from the bank, a shrunken skeleton of itself—but it is here. From the width of the bank and the depth of the riverbed, you can tell it was once a mighty thing, now tamed by the unending drought. The red clay is dry and crumbling beneath your bare feet as you stumble toward the water. It is cool on your feet as you splash into it, your feet sinking into the mud.

There is a sound like a whistle, like a switch splitting the air before it parts skin, and an arrow sinks into the wet clay by your feet.

“Don’t stop now, Sweetmeat. You’re so close.” The voice is taunting, and hatefully familiar. Slowly you turn, and the blue-eyed-orc is there on the bank. His bow drawn, another arrow already nocked. You stare at one another, your heart pounding in your chest. You wait for him to draw back the bow, to loose the arrow—he doesn’t. After a moment, he lowers it.

“Brave little thing, aren’t you?” He asks, cocking his head. “You’re not going to run?”

“No.” You don’t want to die like your father—cowering, with an axe between his shoulder blades that he never saw coming. “I would see my death.” The blue-eyed-orc grins, one sharp fang hanging over his lip.

“Oh?” To surprise, he stores the arrow back in its quiver, and takes a step closer. “You’ve no weapon to meet it.”

“It will come whether I’ve steel or none.” You match his step, taking one further back into the river. The muddy water laps at your calves, soaking into your dress. Over the sound of rushing water and the thunder of your own heartbeat, you hear the horses. The riders approach lazily, slowly, like they know you’re cornered.

You are.

The pack doesn’t interfere; don’t come any closer than twenty or thirty paces from the riverbank, content to watch as the blue-eyed one circles you like a wolf.

“Not going to beg, either, I imagine.” He says, and trembling, you shake your head. You’re up to your knees in water now, your skirts soaked and dragging in the current. You are expecting him to unsheathe the massive, hooked axe on his back, to bring your death down upon you swiftly—but he does not even reach for it. Instead, he reaches for your face, cupping your chin in his huge hand.

“What are you called?” When you answer, he rolls your name around in his mouth like mead. He turns your head this way and that, like someone inspecting an animal for sale. You know he must feel it, the race of your pulse under his fingertips. After a moment, he pulls back, directing his sharp gaze over his shoulder.

“Bring a horse for her, Buck.” He says, licking his lips. You watch as a ripple passes through the pack at the impact of his decision.

“What—what are you doing?” You ask hoarsely, your teeth still clenched tight with fear. He grins at you over his shoulder as he makes for the bank.

“A deal’s a deal, Sweetmeat,” he replies, beckoning you to follow. “You get to live.”

to be continued

#chris evans fandom #cevans fandom #chris evans fic #cevans fic #steve rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers AU #Orc AU #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers imagine #dark fantasy AU #AU #boxofbonesfic

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astralember · 8 months

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morverenmaybewrites · 3 months

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Imagine Dark Fantasy!Gotham

Inspired by this post.

Imagine dark fantasy!Gotham. A Gotham City that sits between the border of magic and the mundane. A Gotham City that may or not may not be there, depending on the day. And the person searching for it.

A city made of both magic and the cold iron that once nearly brought it to extinction, nearly splitting at the seams at the weight of its own existence.

The only city left where you are never quite sure if the person you pass on the street is human or the personification of a myth so ancient that the outside world had all but forgotten its name.

Glamour is woven and worn like a second skin; it is said that the most powerful ones can bend even the hardest of wills to the wearer’s whims. Politicians drink charisma from gleaming silver cups just before they make their speeches to the adoring public.

Laughter is sold in bright green bottles and sold in dark corners–to a twisted clown who leaves grinning bodies in his wake.

A scientist, half-mad with his own discoveries, learns how to brew fear. And conjures hallucinations so real that his victims would carve furrows into their own skin, screaming about the things that haunt them.

Imagine the Lazarus Pits and the stories they would inspire. It is said that they were once a phenomenon seen around the world: the strange, glowing pools that hold the power over life and death. But that was before the iron, and the rise of man, and before the magic had been all but bled from the world.

Now, the only place where a Lazarus Pit could exist in was Gotham City.

If it even exists at all.

No books mention it, no maps lead to it.

And yet, the rumors persist. Whispered in dark corners, in quiet bars where the alcohol served gleams as if distilled from moonlight.

A friend of a friend had been brought back to life, a lover suffering grievous injuries stepping out of a pool, gleaming with health, a small group of humans who have somehow lived for centuries.

Imagine Bruce Wayne, half-mad with grief and hollowed out by loss. A despair so great that it threatened to blot out the stars.

If it had been another time, another place, perhaps death would have been the end of it. Perhaps the small frame he held in his arms would have been buried underneath the rich dark earth of Wayne gardens, beside Bruce’s parents. Perhaps the boy and his father would have found some measure of peace.

But this was Gotham City, the last place on earth where one could find magic.

And, perhaps just this once, death was not the end.

Imagine Jason Todd, dead.

Then, alive. A heart silent and still, begins to beat, faster and faster as if it means to break, screaming from his ribcage.

A miracle, but not without price. Never without price.

Imagine Jason Todd, silent and still and dead, until he is not. Until the cave that contains those famed pools echoes with his screams. Whatever memory of heaven or hell or the Afterlife blasted out of him by the pain of a soul being slammed, forcefully, back into its body.

Oh how living hurts.

How death hounds his every step.

It is there, in the way, he feels he does not belong anymore. After all, he was brought back to the world of the living, and he is no longer supposed to be alive. It is there, in the way his skin runs a little too cold, in the way he would sometimes forget to feel the warmth.

Once, Alfred walked in on him, holding his hand over an open fire, face utterly devoid of expression.

It is there, in the way human food feels ever so slightly bland. As if something unnameable, something crucial had been stripped from it.

It is there, in the color of his eyes. Once blue, they are the same shade of green as the smoke of the pools. They glow preternaturally bright, even in complete darkness.

Imagine his hate and resentment, growing day by day, at being forced to live in a world that now rejects him.

And so Jason leaves.

Leaves his father, leaves Gotham. Immerses himself in the mundanity of the modern world, and hopes that it’s enough to make him forget.

But every time he takes a bite of food that he can barely taste, every time he looks up at the sky to realize that he doesn’t feel the cold, every time he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

Jason remembers.

He is not supposed to be here.

I'll be writing this as either a one shot or a two-part story. But tell me if anyone wants a part 2 where I'll discuss the plot and Jason's relationship with a changeling!reader!

#jason todd x reader #batman #gotham city #dark fantasy gotham #dark fantasy au #i wrote this in like under an hour while making my dinner #the inspiration it will not leave me alone #i must put words to paper or i will eat my fcking laptop #thinking about dark fantasy gotham and ready to make it everyone else's problem

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hangingoffence · 1 year

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big ass fucking glass sword

#kyle rayner #dc #dark fantasy au #myart

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hollandsbeybladeburstblog · 3 months

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Ok but what if Zac was a King Midas type character who had a golden head collection in his throneroom and Daigo was his son who was also an executioner and is called "the reaper of men" and then there's this mirror and then-

Won't say much cuz it's spoilers but wanted to update anyone on my Dark Fantasy AU so you guys can see a little bit of whats to come hehehehehehehehe

#beyburst #beyblade burst #beyblade burst fanart #Dark Fantasy AU #Zac the sunrise #daigo kurogami

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sunnyvandsephi · 5 months

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i did this 'sneaking Hunter past the ToS' design for the Vampires vs Werewolves ArtFight this year and still adore it so, to here it goes

Feredir just = "Hunter" in Tolkien's elvish

he had lore and everything!

i have phases where i just, want Hunter around in every canon or project i drift between, but this design was part of a whole little tale i was using to try and do collaborative pieces for ArtFight

as the story goes, Feredir and other Bad Batch mirrors still kept their 'outcast' vibes as they were either vampires who fled vampiric hierarchy after refusing a command, or werewolves who approved of that rebellion and joined forces (i was on Team Werewolf so)

design choices were, how to do his tattoo, instead made it a burn from exposure to sunlight, his fangs double up because his tat has gaps for two teeth, he still retains his "knife" in the form of a silver stake he can use an either Vampire -or- Werewolf, and in the same fashion as his Katarn-lll gear, keeps his vampiric armor even when acting against them- not going out of his way to hunt other vampires, but definitely willing to defend himself or when convinced by his fellows, rescue them from their superiors

#cw: scarring #cw: burns #i might do something with this still i dunno #hunter in a tailcoat hmmyes #star wars au #bad batch #tbb au #tbb hunter #sergeant hunter #dark fantasy au #dark fantasy #vampire art

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jmrothwell · 8 months

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Inspired by @innytoes Dark Fantasy AU

#Because it is AMAZING!!!#and you should definitely check it out #including the tags because SO MUCH LORE!!!!#julie and the phantoms #Dark Fantasy AU

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gtkoodles · 9 months

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Hotel dump (more private investigator, x-x wip of some idea, and dark fantasy)

summers been kinda slow and some ideas floating around through artblock lol

#the hotel podcast #the owner #the manager #the lobby boy #the hotel #dark fantasy #dark fantasy au #x-x wip #x x ep #the hotel pod #the hotel fanart

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lokiinmediasideblog · 4 months

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Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Loki (TV 2021), Thor (Movies) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Loki/Sylvie (Loki TV) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Sylvie (Loki TV) Additional Tags: Cannibalism, Undeath, Blood and Gore, Groomed into cannibalism, Familial Abuse, Child Abuse, Self-Mutilation, Self-Harm, Forced Cannibalism, Murder, Binding Oaths, Kidnapping, Other Additional Tags to Be Added Summary:

This is an AU that takes elements of the comics and MCU and very loosely applies them. Accuracy is not my goal. For example, Loki knows he’s not Asgardian from the start, and is more of a ward/hostage. And he wants to rule Asgard by force like in the comics prior to his reincarnation. Also, the Disir's origins are not exactly like in the comics where Bor cursed them because they didn’t stay virgins. And they are physical cannibalistic undead beings (because I thought that would be easier for me, plot-wise) rather than cannibal ghost valkyries that eat Asgardian souls. And of course I made up the lore for my own purposes.

#sylki #mcu!loki #mcu!sylvie #disir!sylvie au #dark fantasy au #my fic #It's here!

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cebwitch · 2 years

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A DRV3 Dark Fantasy AU? You can bet that necromancy is involved!

#fanart #danganronpa v3 #drv3 #drv3 spoilers #danganronpa spoilers #suichi saihara #maki harukawa #himiko yumeno #drv3 shuichi #Dark Fantasy AU #thinkin King Shuichi. High Mage Yumeno. pardoned assassin Maki #spoilers

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boxofbonesfic · 9 months

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Title: Brave [3 of ?]

Pairing: Orc!Steve x Reader

Summary: You manage to earn your day’s water, but also something else—Steve’s attention.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Genre typical violence, Warlord Nomad AU, Dark Fantasy AU, Enemies to lovers, Eventual smut, References to past abuse

A/N: a little more world-building, some insights into pack culture—and what’s expected of our reader 👀 i hope you all enjoy!

The rabbit’s ears twitch as it lifts its twitching nose to the air. You’re downwind, so it can’t scent you, not unless the wind shifts. It’s been hours of you sitting here, waiting as one by one the rest of the pack peels off, searches for better pickings elsewhere. You don’t, though, remaining still and quiet until you’re the only one left crouching low in the grass.

She lifts her head higher, ears swiveling before she lowers her head back down to the sparse patch of green in a sea of dry brown, her whiskers trembling. Slowly, quietly, you creep forward, pausing each time she does as you get into position. You nock an arrow, sighting it down your pointer finger—the way Steve showed you.

The thought of him curdles your stomach, and you grimace. What does he care if I live or die? You think snidely, your lips tightening as you draw back the string with a firm, steady hand. You grit your teeth. He thinks you weak—you know the others think so. They speak it freely, and in truth you cannot blame them. Your survival feels like more of a mistake than anything, a cruel twist of luck that had denied you the end you were supposed to meet. You are as unsuited to this life as both the cobbler and the baker’s boy, and yet you breathe while they moulder.

Don’t miss.

You release the arrow, and much to your surprise, your aim is true. The arrow pins the rabbit, the tip sinking into the dirt behind it. Its back legs twitch, and briefly your stomach turns as you watch the light go out in its frightened black eyes. Unexpected tears gather in your eyes as you wrench the arrow from the rabbit’s still warm flesh, and wipe it on the grass.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble, placing a hand on its little head. “Thank you.”

“To live out here is to take life.” You aren’t surprised by Steve’s voice, nor his presences. You suppose it had been foolish, really, to think you were alone. You wipe furiously at your tears before glaring at him over your shoulder with red-rimmed eyes. “It was an honorable kill.”

You look down at your hands, and swallow thickly at the sight of dark red blood.

“I have never killed anything before.”

The orc sneers. “Then you have led a much more comfortable life than most anyone, man, orc, or beast.” He gestures to the rabbit. “Come. I do not think anyone will contest that you’ve earned your water tonight.” You watch as Steve strings up your kill, tying it to the back of your saddle.

—

You approach the fire-pit with your rabbit, your jaw clenched nervously as you twist the rope in your hands. The orc female tending the pot is as broad-shouldered and gruff as the males, her blond hair cropped close on the sides, the top long enough to fall across her eyes. She crosses her arms as you approach, a surprised, if wry, smile on her face.

“Well I’ll be.” She takes it from you, nodding in approval. “Clean kill. I’m impressed. I did not think a thing as dainty as you would be able to draw one of our bows.” You know she doesn’t mean it as an insult, merely an observation. Orcs, in your new estimation, seem to be overly fond of blunt communication, unbothered nuance or delicacy. You had never thought yourself particularly dainty, either; though as you look up at her you realize how small you are indeed.

“Thank you.” She turns to place your rabbit upon the chopping block she has cleared, and you look away as she begins to clean it. “What… what is your name?” You ask awkwardly, and she glances up at you.

“Carol.” She unsheathes a heavy looking short blade from her hip, slicing the rabbit from tail to nose. “You’ll make a fine hunter yet, little human,” she complements your work a second time, and you duck your head, your cheeks burning.

“I—I’ve never hunted before.” You admit. “Today was the first time.”

“Have you not? Perhaps I shall take you next time. Mayhap we can catch bigger than a rabbit.” She winks. Carol does not shoo you away, not even when the other orcs begin lining up with their own, impressive kills. Bucky is last, of course, a small deer strung up on a pole he carries easily by himself over one large shoulder.

“We should make jerky from this one. Salt it and dry the skins between the saddles,” Carol says, slapping its flank. You hope in vain that his slate gray eyes will not fall on you—but you feel their weight even as you busy yourself cleaning foraged carrots, and you hear the sneer in his voice.

“Making yourself useful?”

“She killed a rabbit today.” You had not expected Carol’s defense, and when you glance up at her, she stands with her body broadside in front of you, like she’s trying to block you from view. “A good kill, for her first time.”

Bucky scoffs. “Every one of us had a doe skinned and parted out before we were even weaned.” He sneers at you, the tusks poking out from his lower lip glinting menacingly. “But I suppose if you were an orc youngling, you might be blooded for it.”

Carol rolls her eyes.

“I just want to earn my water.” You say, meeting his gaze as you jut out your chin. “That’s all.” Bucky says nothing. He glances down at your rabbit, and then back up at you.

“It’s a good kill.” You swallow—that is probably the closes to a compliment that he’s apt to come. He turns on his heel and walks away, dirt crunching under his boots.

When Carol serves out the stew that night, you get a bowl—instead of the scraps you’d been allowed to take from the pot in the nights before, and your stomach groans audibly at the privilege of being full. For the first time, you find a—small—place by the fire that no one seems to mind you taking. In your bowl, you find almost an entire leg of rabbit. You look up, expecting to find Carol’s knowing gaze, but instead, your eyes connect with cool blue across the fire.

You look down quickly, pretending to ignore the weight of his eye as you bring a spoonful of stew to your lips.

“I beg your attention, brothers, sisters, people,” Steve’s voice carries across the fire-pit like a clap of thunder. The response is immediate, a curtain total silence dropping. Though there is no king among them, you think Steve might be the closest comparable thing.

“The day after tomorrow we ride for Tarrath. You know what this means; we will not stop. Not for rest, not for water.” You swallow the uncomfortable feeling that this speech is partially for your benefit. His bright blue eyes rest on yours. “Do not fall behind.”

Carol sits heavily on the log beside you, a bowl held in her large hands. It provides a welcome distraction, and you drop his gaze, turning to look at her.

“Eat up, little human,” she replies, gesturing at you with a spoon. “You will need your strength.” You bite into the rabbit, a mixture of gravy and grease running down your chin as she nods at you.

“Tomorrow, we hunt.”

to be continued

mikaharuka · 10 months

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Flora Fati: Fragaria Vesca - Official Post

I'm here with the first of my two fics, written for the Unconventional Courtship event, where I wrote a fic based on an M&B or Harlequin Romance novel plot... all the way down to modifying the summary! I have to say... writing in that melodramatic romance way was fun XD

(Side note - the UC's M&B/Harlequin prompt generator is amazing!)

This fic was also written for the Seven Wildflowers challenge, where I was given wildflowers to write about, whether literally or in flower meaning or similar. I requested five flowers - the first of which is the wild strawberry (hence the scientific chapter name - Fragaria vesca). I also added a final perfectly themed flower to the end for 6 chapters!

Title: Flora Fati | Chapter 1: Fragaria Vesca [Wild Strawberry]

Author: Mizuka

Rating: Explicit [Teen for this chapter]

Category: M/M

Word Count: 1573 words

Notes: You can read this without having read canon or Apricity - it's a divergence + AU that can stand alone, though I did have the Winter Light Verse's characters in mind, while writing this fic.

Summary: (...part of this challenge was the summary - that is below) A Dream… For years, Beau Swan has had recurring dreams of Florentis - of a land of flowers, of ruins, of the night, and of a mysterious, handsome man. But when evidence of his dreams begin to manifest in the real world, Beau is caught up in feelings of love, desire, and circumstances that began many centuries before he was born.

A Journey… For years, Beau Swan has felt increasingly out of place in Florida - from his mother Renee, his stepfather Phil, his newborn twin brothers, and his mundane life. With the visit of a red-eyed raven and the wistful voice of that man, Carlisle, calling to him, Beau sets out for Florentis - even if it means leaving his life behind!

A Memory… For years, Beau and Carlisle met beneath the moonlight every night, fated to grow closer to each other, fall passionately in love, and eventually reunite someday, in that ethereal land of flowers. But as memories flash by and Beau solves the mystery, will they find their happily ever after - or will they be separated for good?

[Based on The Ninefold Key by Rebecca Brandewyne]

(fandom/Apricity-blind friendly by default)

Tagging because I think you might be interested? @mrsmungus, @udaberriwrites, @magma-saarebas19, @aislinnstanaka, @writingpotato07, @lena-hills, @hylianjo, @0nelittlebirdtoldme, @tsunderewatermelon, @bleepbloopbotz @axolotlsupremacyowo, @kayedium-writes, @sliebman10

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morverenmaybewrites · 3 months

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More dark fantasy! Gotham

Part 1

Monster hunter! Jason Todd? Monster hunter! Jason Todd.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tw gore #tw horror #dark fantasy Gotham #dark fantasy AU #he's a 10 but his paranoia makes him hate the bus #OH this story is going to be GROSS I love IT #i am CHEWING the bars of my cage let me LOOSE let me write HORROR #shitty first drafts

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hangingoffence · 1 year

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this has been staying in my wips for a while so i decided to finish it. dark fantasy au kyle <3 nobody cares but i do.

#also glass sword glass sword #its magic it doesn't need to make sense #theres so much fucking green in this my eyes #kyle rayner #green lantern #dark fantasy au #dc #myart

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hollandsbeybladeburstblog · 2 months

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Daimon the Mage

Daimon is a mage sent by Shurth, the god of balance, to collect the parts of Lúimgadr that fell into the earth, in exchange for his brother, Rylan, to come back to life, after Daimon accidentally kills him.

The Watchbird is... Well that's something i will talk about later...

Daimon is my baby and i love him sdfbhsdfihbshdbfjhsbdjfhb

#beyburst #beyblade burst #daigo kurogami #dark fantasy au #I'M TRYING SO HARD NOT TO SPOIL ANYTHING GOD

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