#BLOOD STAINED GLASS

[desos-records]

Magic's not allowed in Gotham, but Jason's never been one to follow rules. // Jason Todd helps out the local exorcist.

Jason Todd/Reader

Chapters: First/Prev

Word Count: 1,257

Warnings: none, just fluff

-

"Who would win? You or him?"

"Huh?"

Jason held tight to the sound of your voice. The two of you had been sitting quietly on the couch, eating the pasta he'd made. You were watching John Wick shoot thugs in a dance club with the volume low, but Jason was watching you.

"Could you beat John Wick in a fight, yes or no?" you asked, eyes fixed to the screen.

You were curled up on the opposite end of the couch, wearing the softest pjs and sweater that Jason could find in his closet. Your hair was still damp and he could smell his soap on you and his thoughts had bubbled and fizzed ever since you walked out of the bathroom. Why in God's name had he thought this would be a good idea?

The weight of his wanting pushed up against his chest, threatening to break his rib cage. He wanted to gather you up in his arms, wanted to feel your heartbeat and your breathing, wanted to tell you every sappy, embarrassing, lovely thought he'd ever had about you. And he really, really wanted to kiss you.

"Oi. Red." You snapped your fingers inches from the tip of his nose and he blinked back into focus.

"What?"

"No wonder you wear two masks. You don't want anyone to know that you're a total space cadet."

"I'm not…" He frowned. "Of course, I could beat him in a fight. He's just some guy with a gun."

Your laughter bubbled to the surface and boiled over. The clear, sparkling sound caught in Jason's chest until he found himself laughing too.

"Did I say something funny?" he tried to ask through the stupid grin on his face.

"You're just a guy with a gun," you said, still giggling.

"Oh yeah? Can John Wick do this?" 

Every cell in his body hummed off-key. It took a second to pull himself together and truly focus, but as he looked at you, the TV glitched with static. Your breath became puffs of white smoke as the temperature plummeted. Dogs howled outside.

You rolled your eyes. "Latent Lazarus magic and all you do with it is party tricks?"

Jason froze, his laughter shriveling down into his stomach. The air warmed again. The dogs quieted. "How did you…"

"For God's sake, I can feel it spilling off you from a mile away, always have. I didn't need to see your eyes glow to be sure." You huffed and set your bowl of pasta on the coffee table to gesture at him. "You're lucky I like you, otherwise you'd attract every demon, angel, and idiot with a spellbook on the Eastern Seaboard."

"What are you talking about?"

You shifted closer, turning to face him directly, and he tried not to tense up when your knee nudged his hip. "Can I see your hand?" you asked.

He placed his hand in your waiting palm, reassured by the familiar hum of magic under your skin. When you pressed your thumb against his pulse point, a symbol burst to life in his palm, outlined in golden lines of light. Then you pulled up your sleeve to reveal the same symbol inked into the soft underside of your forearm, now glowing to match.

"This is a protection seal," you said. "Instead of sensing unbound magic, anyone looking at you would only sense mine. And they wouldn't dare steal that."

Jason's grasp of language escaped him. He could only manage a strangled, "Why?"

You shrugged, trying for impassive, but he noticed how you glanced away. He noticed your tremor returning. And he couldn't bear that, not with how deeply you'd entrenched yourself—his apartment, his clothes, his food, and his skin. You looked up when he placed his hand gently on your arm, covering the symbol that bound the two of you together.

"Why would you do that?" he asked softly.

"I should've told you," you said, tracing the lines on his palm with your thumb. "I should've asked. And I'm sorry for that. We were teaming up for the first time and it was hard enough convincing your family any of it was real. I tend to attract the kind of things that steal magic. I knew that. And when I saw you had Lazarus magic grafted into you… well, I couldn't let that happen. But I should've asked."

"I'm not sure I would've believed you," he said. Then he laughed again. "Do you mark your territory on all the people you like? Or am I just special?"

You rankled and pulled your hands back, eyes wide. The scowl you leveled at him couldn't quite hide the way you squirmed as you spat, "I did no such thing!" But then a laugh burst out of you too and Jason's heart glowed warm inside him.

"Thank you," he said. "For protecting me." He tapped the symbol as it faded from his hand.

"Anytime, Red." Then you corrected yourself. "Jason."

A little bolt of lightning shot up his spine hearing his name—his real name—in your voice. When you smiled, he decided to chase the lightning.

Leaning closer, he asked, "Would you send me to Hell if I kissed you?"

He expected more surprise, but you only raised an eyebrow. "Why are you so determined to get yourself hurt?" you asked as your smile slid off your face, leaving a stony wall behind.

"You won't hurt me."

"No, but I'm an exorcist. Death is my oldest friend and my jealous ex. Why do you think Constantine lives at the bottom of a bottle?"

He met your eyes steadily and said, "I'm not afraid," and found it to be true.

"I am." You took his hand again and held it between your own. He could feel the storm of your heartbeat in the tips of your fingers. You added, "I'm sorry."

"I'm not." He touched his lips briefly to the back of your hand.

You stood up and pulled your hand away. "I should sleep. Or try to," you said, face unreadable no matter how long he looked at you. 

And you let him look for a while, long enough that he realized you were looking at him too—not waiting for anything, just looking. Shards of light reflected off the dark window glass, your glowing gold and his green.

"The bed's all made up," he said softly. As much as he didn't want to break the quiet, he couldn't let you stand there all night.

You nodded, reaching out one last time to squeeze his arm and say, "Thank you." He watched you go, but then you paused in the doorway to the bedroom, the last point of light before the darkness. Looking over your shoulder, you said, "I have something terribly selfish to ask you."

"Shoot."

"I don't want to be alone. Will you stay with me?"

He stood up and met you at the door. "All yours, sweetheart."

Together, you slipped into the dark room and under the covers. When he opened his arms, you crawled inside—a wild animal huddled in the hollow of a tree. Your muscles relaxed one at a time, your breathing slowed, and you were asleep before he even thought to ask if you were comfortable. He wanted to stay awake, to tattoo everything about you here onto the backs of his hands so he could remember it all after you'd left, but the humming warmth pulled him down after you.

Jason still liked churches, but he knew he didn't need them to find holy ground.

[deadpoet-skull]

[setacin]

“This is my body, which is broken for you: do this in remembrance of me,"

Art for the fic "the starving faithfuls" by planetarypluto (@mothmanhamlet )

(go read the fic and leave a nice comment its very good i promise)

[goddessofbees]

Lady Gotham's face

[soni-dragon]

remember all the things we wanted?

[sillybillylulu]

Everyone please meet vampire Azula 🩸

[mintybleh]

"wouldn't you love to know who lingers 👁"

happy secret satan! this one's for spooned on bsky

this one was pretty fun! I'm so honoured I got to be part of the last Secret Satan following the original categories, here's to new horizons! that church window made me lose my mind at bit, but that's ok

raising a glass to all the drow, cheers!

+speedpaint

[crunchless]

My entry for @yearningfortheend 's dtiys :3

[desos-records]

Magic's not allowed in Gotham, but Jason's never been one to follow rules. // Jason Todd helps out the local exorcist.

Jason Todd/Reader

Chapters: Next

Word Count: 1,464

Warnings: some mild violence, demonic possession

-

Jason still liked churches. He told himself it was the architecture, Gotham Cathedral had no shortage of vaulted ceilings, gargoyles, and huge stained glass windows. Its roof was one of the best places to watch the city—high up, plenty of corners and crevices to hide in, no guards making rounds or rogues ready to attack. The bells echoed against the city's metal and glass, the strong notes sounding solemn or joyful, but always reliable.

On pain of death or torture, he wouldn't tell anyone that he liked the quiet most of all. Silence in Gotham often meant something was about to go violently wrong. It was an empty feeling, the second between fire sucking in oxygen and the shockwave exploding. But here, the quiet air was full and warm, something almost hummed just outside his hearing. Even sitting on the roof in the cold air, he could still feel the warmth.

He didn't dare go inside though. He had a thousand reasons not to, namely that he didn't feel like getting another lecture. Bruce was self-righteous enough to last Jason a lifetime. He didn't want to sit under the judgement of the person sitting in the pew beside him. He didn't want to talk about what he believed in or what he didn't.

All Jason wanted was to sit in the quiet and warmth. He could do that from the roof.

On an especially cold night, he sat leaning against a gargoyle, watching the light from the stained glass reflect off the gently falling snow—red, blue, gold, green, and a hundred others swirling in the wind below him. Then the quiet shattered.

"Don't move! It's gonna be okay."

He recognized that voice, its clarity and ability to be kind and commanding all at once. You didn't operate in Gotham very often; your particular brand of justice took you all over the world, but when you did, it meant something had gone very very wrong. Jason smiled to himself anyway.

You didn't keep a secret identity like he did—there was no point when all the bad guys were after your soul—but Bruce had taken to calling you Harbinger and the name stuck. He still preferred your real one though.

Then Jason heard a guttural string of sounds that fell through the air like curses. You spat the demonic language back and Jason caught a flash of golden light somewhere in the Cathedral’s cemetery. Quickly, he shot his grappling gun and swung down, landing in the snow with a soft crunch. Keeping his head down and hood up, shielded by the Cathedral’s shadow, he tracked the familiar sounds of a fight and the eerie echoes of magic.

"No, you'll get out of her right now or so help me God, I will exorcize your head right up your ass."

Jason peeked around a statue and saw you under a cluster of Yew trees, magic sparking from your hands as the golden lines pinned a young woman to one of the trees. A little boy was crouched behind a headstone nearby. Even at a distance, Jason could see how the woman's eyes had turned black. She writhed and snarled at you.

Demonic possession. Your version of stopping a mugger.

You looked a little worse for wear. He saw burn marks in your coat, cuts and scrapes that hadn't yet healed, and something dark and slick had splattered across you—something that was not mud. Even still, he couldn't help the warm buzz he felt every time he saw you.

He wanted to jump in and help, but he knew he wasn't much use while a demon still had its hold on someone. And he'd learned not to distract you while you worked magic.

"Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you."

You strode forward and pressed a hand against the woman's sternum and the other against her forehead. The weave of magic kept the woman's arms and legs pinned back even as she struggled. You were speaking Latin now and the demon screamed curses in its bitter language. Smoke rose from the points where you touched it.

A shockwave erupted outwards and a thick black liquid, like crude oil, gushed out of the woman's mouth, eyes, and ears, staining the snow. Instead of flowing away, it pulled itself inward, forming a humanoid creature taller than Jason. Looking at it, he felt a deep instinct to run.

The little boy screamed and the demon turned its head. Jason bolted forward. He scooped up the little boy, drew his gun and fired all in the same motion. The demon screeched, more surprised than hurt, and staggered backward. You were there to catch it, your magic tangling itself around the demon. With one final shouted spell, your hands moved as if pulling something apart. The demon shattered into fiery pieces, dissolving into the snow.

Quiet returned to the graveyard. You helped the woman to stand, then turned to Jason.

"I need to get her to a hospital," you said, a phone appearing in your hand with a flick of your wrist and a flash of golden light.

He nodded and set the little boy down. "I'll wait for you on the roof."

A tired smile flickered over your face as you reached out, took his free hand, and squeezed gently. "Thank you," you said softly.

Over an hour later, he heard the whoosh of sudden magic, saw a flash of gold in the dark, and then you appeared across from him on the Cathedral's roof. He smiled and slid off his helmet as he strode towards you.

"Can I assume that won't be the last one?" he said.

You shrugged, pulling your coat tighter around you. "Like rats, aren't they? Where there's one, there's ten more. Best to warn your people."

He stopped a few steps shy of you. If you were surprised to see him, it didn't show.

"How long are you here?" he asked. Longer than last time, he thought, please say longer than last time.

You looked up and over his shoulder, staring at the steeple. "A couple days maybe. Depends on how long it takes to find the nest."

Damn.

"Want some help?"

Now you squinted at him, eyes glowing faintly in the dark. "I appreciate it, but it's a little outside your wheelhouse, Red."

He shook his head. "That's what you always say. It's my neighborhood, you know."

"I know. But if I make any more noise, The Bat will stick his nose in it and slow things down." You spread your arms out, twirling your hands like a performer, as sparks danced between your fingers. "No magic in Gotham, remember?"

Jason watched you carefully, paying closer attention to your injuries and noting the weight pulling at your posture, the slight tremor. "At least let me give you a place to crash. You look dead on your feet."

You smiled again, still faint as you looked away from him and dropped your hands. The lights went out. "I'm not so safe to be around at the moment."

"You never are."

You looked him up and down, considering, weighing your options. "Does this offer include take out? I took a little detour through Hell, you see. Hard to get a decent meal down there."

Jason let his smile spread wide and easy as he offered you his hand. "Sweetheart, you got yourself an in-house chef."

Shaking your head, with a scoff that sounded like a laugh, you took his hand. As always, your skin hummed with the magic that coursed through you and, as always, it sent a shiver up his spine.

"Still flirting with death, I see," you said.

He tugged you forward gently, then wrapped an arm around you and lifted his grappling gun from its holster. "Well, you're awful pretty."

As if it were the most natural thing in the world, you draped your arm across his shoulders, pulling the two of you even closer--the only trouble was you smelled of death too, blood and brimstone. But you were warm and radiant and never judged him and he wanted to be those things for you in return, if you'd let him.

There was something there in the space between you, humming like the air around the Cathedral, something magic. But it might break if he spoke it out loud, so he settled for holding you tighter. He didn't flinch from the steady glow of your eyes, inches away from his.

"Charmer," you said, the edge of a genuine smile in the corner of your mouth.

"You said it, not me."

Sparks erupted inside him when you nearly laughed. Then he fired the grappling gun and you both clung tight to each other as you rushed into the air.

[galderthefuzzy]

The Ritual

After the second fall of Hakkar one would have assumed that his followers would dwindle. This is not the case his loyal priests the Atal’ai are always around hiding and waiting to provide their master his bloody birthright as the Blood God of the Gurubash

I had the pleasure to work on this piece for the wonderful Arensica . Trolls and stained glass seem to go together quite well, add some blood magic on top and you have a project I REALLY enjoy. I hope you like how it turned out! Thank you for commissioning me.

[vodakstr8tnogay]

Everytime I remember I made this and own this and have this in my house, I have my own little nerd freak out all over again. Like damn I did that and DAMN I HAVE THAT OMG

(This is a glass mosaic!) (also I have an art account on instagram if anyone is interested in seeing more of this: @ glass.metal.and.more on instagram)

[celiastimgifs]

assorted tma stims

sources: 🗃 (stickers) - 👁 (decoden) - 📼 (stained glass)

[ultrainfinitepit]

As part of the Blood & Holy Water campaign I'll be making some patches. You can add these to your pledge as addons. For the circle patch I was inspired by the Rose Window of Notre dame.

[thesoulspulse]

It took a few days to finish this (mostly due to real life interruptions constantly) but wow, I had so much fun coloring it! I seriously love stained glass designs so much!

[aylameridiandrawsstuff]

A stained glass style painting for the Red Hunters Codex, featuring the memory modifying Rite of Consolamentum. 

Check out the supplement here.

Commission work

[fraternum-momentum]

BRO IM DEADASS. MY TL IS FULL OF CATHOLIC STUFF & PRAYER REQUESTS RN and the only religion-aligned shit i int with is ur kinky stuff.....,. mama save me

i just got this ad rn,,,