#Death-Ward
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dnd-stim · 2 years ago
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Yadoris Finiva Art: death-ward | Character: @death-ward
x x x | x o x | x x x
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somerandomdudelmao · 2 months ago
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Part 2 :l
Oh no he was so traumatized by the terrible experiments. He was so destroyed and frightened.
Okay but. What if he was happy? What if he came out of the horrible lab joyful and calm and positive. What then?
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Masterpost
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gameraboy2 · 5 months ago
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Batman (1966), "A Death Worse Than Fate"
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spiraling-trap · 7 months ago
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catching up with faith the unholy trinity after a million years
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stealingyourbones · 3 months ago
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Every day i read a post where people write that “Bruce Wayne has an adoption problem” or that Danny is adoption bait on the first second of seeing him, not even knowing if he has a want of vengeance and a sad backstory and parallels to Bruce, and every day I want to softly cry in a corner.
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rafeandonlyrafe · 8 months ago
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obsessive love
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words: 2.1k
warnings: 18+ only!!!, smut!!!, MURDER!!!, SERIAL KILLER!RAFE, PSYCHO!RAFE but sweet with reader, best friends to lover, DESCRIPTIONS OF BLOOD AND STABBING, physical violence, psycho!reader as well!, romanticization/sexualization of murder?, mentions of stalking (in the past), road head, blowjob, p in v sex, semi public sex, rafe beating up your dates tehe, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT (advisement to take caution and heed warnings! ty)
rafe is only half paying attention as the movie plays out on the screen. he’s far more focused on the way you’re tucked into him, squealing every time a jumpscare happens and ducking your head into his chest with a wide smile on your face.
it’s not unusual for you to get touchy with him, to cuddle in bed after a day together or hold hands when in a crowd. but lately rafe has found it difficult to not take things further. he has loved you since first grade. not had a crush on like some people like to say. no, rafe only knows deep, obsessive love for you.
it’s why you barely dated anyone high school, rafe was always there to beat your date up and make sure they didn’t reveal it was him. afterall, you’re his best friend. he just wants you to be happy. happy and with him. no one else deserves you, or can protect you the way he can, go to the extreme lengths rafe will.
rafe realized he was in deep shit when he was stalking one of your dates that he wasn’t able to get to. he dropped you off on your front porch and had the audacity to kiss you. rafe exploded the second you were inside. you found your date a bleeding and bruised pulp still on your doorstep the next morning.
“its not even that scary.” rafe chuckles, teasing you as you grip onto his forearm.
“yes it is!” you love getting scared. it’s what you often say is your worst feature. you may scream your head off at horror movies, but you’ll still drag rafe along to haunted houses come halloween and stay up late binging your favorite thrillers with a smile on your face despite the chills down your spine.
rafe forces himself to pay attention to the last couple minutes of the movie. its entertaining enough to distract him from wanting to pull you closer to him, to never let you go, to always keep you by his side where you're safe and happy.
an idea forms in rafes head as he watches the two characters finally kill the serial killer that had murdered all of their friends and tried to go after them. he watches the way they embrace, relief on their faces as they kiss, bonded together forever from the shared trauma.
rafe smiles as you ask him if he’s up for another movie, purposely navigating you to one involving an in love couple and people getting mysteriously murdered in their small town. rafe knows what he’s going to do to keep you close, to play into your fear and need for him.
--
“holy shit!” you grab the remote, unmuting the tv. you would apologize for using the language in front of wheezie, but she has just a bad of mouth as you do, and very little supervision now that ward is dead and rose fled with what little money she had left.
you both watch the news report on the edge of your seat, the anchor giving details on the recent murder in kildare. it’s a boy you went to school with, but haven’t spoken to since graduation. when the anchor begins to go over details of the murder, you click the tv off.
“hey!” wheezie argues, scrunching her brow as she looks at you, but you just shake your head. “you don’t need to be watching that kind of stuff, wheeze.”
you stand up to find rafe, eyes glancing around nervously, as if whoever murdered the boy could be lurking inside tanneyhill. you don’t realize that the murderer is just the man you want to see.
“rafe, oh my god!” you cry out when you round the corner to find him walking down the hallway. you fling your arms around his shoulders. he’s shocked for only a second before pulling you in, holding you by your waist as the words spill from your mouth, recounting the news to him.
“oh, that’s terrible.” he frowns, hand gliding up and down your back. “you better stay the night tonight, yeah?” he offers. it’s hours away from dark, but you certainly don’t want to venture home after hearing the news.
“yeah, if you don’t mind.” you feel your cheeks blush slightly, knowing you’ll end up sharing a bed with rafe as always.
“i never mind.” he smiles at you.
--
you wrap your arms around yourself as you watch the news report. the third murder in just under a month just took place last night. you lean against rafe, who presses a kiss to the top of your head.
“i can’t believe we knew all three people killed.” they weren’t particular gruesome deaths, most just a couple stabs with a sharp knife and leaving them to bleed out, there was no passion in the murder itself, no torturing or postmortem injuries.
“i know, it’s scary.” rafe is glad you can’t see the smile on his face. you already spent most nights anyways, but now you’re over more and more, only feeling safe when you have rafes arms around you. it makes it a little hard for him to slip away, but he finds the time.
“and not the fun kind of scary.” you pout. “although…” you trail off, almost like you didn’t mean to say it.
“although what?” rafe questions. 
you sit up a little straighter, wiping your hands on your pants. “it’s a little exciting, isn’t it?” you admit. “that makes me sick, doesn’t it?”
rafe shakes his head, pulling away slightly to see your big innocent eyes blinking up at him as you continue to explain. “obviously it’s terrible these people are dead but… god, it’s exhilarating!” your words switch to rambling as you finally get your feelings out. “like the thrill of knowing there’s someone out there killing people, it just makes me feel so alive! as long as i don’t get killed or anyone close to me-”
“i won’t kill you.” rafe says the words to stop your rambling, not even realizing his slip up. “i won’t let you get killed.” he quickly corrects himself.
“i know.” you look rafe up and down. he can tell when your face shifts into one of sheer concentration, mind slowly piecing the puzzle together. rafe needs to do something now before it all comes together.
he could scream or yell for wheezie or… rafe leans in and presses his lips against yours, mouths molding together. you hesitate for a moment before kissing back, much to rafes relief.
“i won’t let you get killed because i love you.” rafe says, hand cupping your jaw to bring you in for another kiss.
“oh, rafe.” you coo, smooching all across his face before landing on his lips again. “i love you too!”
--
it’s harder now that you’re moved in. you went from spending most nights in rafes bed to making tanneyhill your home as well, cuddling and kissing every night until you’re off to sleep.
he doesn’t need to kill as much now anyways, besides he’s got most of the boys from high school who looked at you a little too hard in your shorts for gym class, or said lude things about you when you weren’t around.
you’re well and truly his, but rafe can’t help himself. he loves the way you hide in his arms when a murder happens, how you kiss him deeply and tell him you love him so much, how you’re so glad that something good came out of something terrible and that you’re together now.
rafe waits until you’re fast asleep before slipping his arm out from under you. he grabs the knife from the back of his closet before heading out. he just needs someone. to stab and maim someone. it’s been months since the serial killers last appearance, and people are starting to relax again, including you, even asking if rafe minded if you went out with your girlfriends without him.
rafe does what he needs to do. he doesn’t enjoy the act itself, but he doesn’t dislike the feeling after either. he walks back into the house, knife bloody but wiped off on the victims own clothes as to not drip all over the house as he sneaks in.
his footsteps pause when he sees you standing there, robe wrapped around your shoulders. he knows you see it. he knows you know everything.
“baby, please don’t leave me i-”
“can i come with you next time?” 
“what?” your question shocks rafe, his voice raising before glancing up the stairs to make sure he didn’t wake wheezie.
“next time you kill someone. will you take me with you?” you ask, glancing at the knife, hating the rush you feel over your whole body when seeing it. it’s the last confirmation you needed for what you have been suspecting.
“i-baby, i don’t need to kill anymore. i’ll stop, it was just-”
“no.” you shake your head. “rafe, i don’t care. you can keep doing it. it’s… exciting.” you’re not ashamed this time when admitting it. you used to be worried about the murders but now you know there’s truly no need. rafe would never hurt you.
“okay.” he swallows, stepping closer, glad that you don’t turn away as you accept a kiss pressed to your lips. “okay, i’ll bring you next time.”
--
“shit, that was exciting!” you squeal, smiling as you turn to rafe. “seeing the life drain out of his eyes? and god, you were so hot when you stabbed him!”
“baby, you sound crazy.” rafe chuckles, easily gliding the car around the turns of the backroads, heading back towards home.
“rafe, you are a literal serial killer, i don’t think you should lecture me on sounding crazy.” you giggle, not even tired despite the late hour from all the adrenaline. “and god, you looked so hot stabbing that guy.”
you reach over and run your fingers down his forearm, remembering the way his muscles bulged and stretch when swinging the knife. your hand moves from rubbing his arm to his thigh, only pretending that your movements are innocent for a minute before you slide your hand up to his crotch, rubbing at his length, feeling it harden in his pants.
“baby-” rafe groans, eyes flicking between you, your hand, and the road in front of him illuminated by his headlights.
“just keep driving, it's okay.” you unbuckle so you can lean across the center console, lips pressing against his neck, tongue darting out to taste his skin.
you tug at the front of his sweatpants, rafe lifting his hips to assist you as the car engine roars. you grip his cock, teeth running over his jaw teasingly, never biting down as you stroke him eagerly, wanting to thank him for continuing his killing spree, for starting it for you and allowing you to take part.
“let me suck you off.” you gather your hair to one side, fucking your head until you're bent sideways. you hold rafes cock with one hand at his base while your lips sink down around the head, moaning at the familiar taste on your lips.
“fuck.” rafe swerves slightly, glad there's no one else on the road as you suck and lick at him, not caring that you're dripping spit down your chin from your movements.
“lemme pull over baby.” rafe says. he knows how much you like the excitement, the rare possibility someone could drive by, but he needs you hop0ing on his dick.
“fiiiine.” you say dramatically, going right back to sucking him off until rafe pulls on a dirt road. you work your shorts and panties off so the second the car is shifted into park, you swing your legs over to straddle rafe.
“shit, you're so wet.” rafe groans as you rub his cock through your folds.
“i told you.” you smirk at rafe. “you looked so hot killing that guy.”
you sink down before rafe can reply. 
the murders shift from rafe doing them in secret to make you rely on him, to force you closer, to something you do together, you often doing the planning while rafe finishes the task with violence.
you barely get back to the car before you jump on him, needing to feel his fingertips digging into your hips while he fucks ever, even if there are still specks of blood on him.
you know you won't get caught. no one would expect the former troubled teen turned happily domesticated man, raising his little sister after his father's death with his faithful girlfriend, to be the one behind the violence.
you see no reason to stop as rafe wipes his knife clean for what feels like the hundredth time.
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nuka-rockit · 3 months ago
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MEA TRINITA PROFANA
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muthur6000 · 4 months ago
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angles of debt
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zzoupz · 1 year ago
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day 9 of drawing faith characters everyday for 21 days
john again but not really
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jamesusilljournal · 2 years ago
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Breaking Open the Head, Bryan Kent Ward, 2015
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k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9 · 27 days ago
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𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨 𝔖𝔞𝔟𝔟𝔞𝔱𝔥 ♱
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feelingtheaster99 · 7 months ago
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I cannot BREATHE at the Wanda Childa’s fake death performance. Everything about it was so fucking funny and peak intrepid heroes of them
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peepergirll · 4 months ago
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Made some AoD moodboard thingies ☆
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(Yes guys I am posting thwse like everywhere but idc jelp)
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gameraboy2 · 3 months ago
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"Death's Diary" Spicy Mystery Stories, May 1936 Cover by Hugh Joseph Ward
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spacedace · 1 year ago
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Reluctant War AU Part 3
Part 1 Part 2
More of the brain worm that has taken me over, gonna probably post it to Ao3 here before too long. Already got another part started and so many ideas for additional stuff, someone please send help I've been consumed by this thing lol
Sorry if Waller seems out of character, outside of fandom I'm mostly familiar with her through Justice League the animated show & Justice League: Unlimited and her vibe there has always struck me as "deeply incredibly unlikable character that also kind of has a point but also has done so much fucked up shit in the name of her goals that you don't really care about her point anymore." So you know, complicated lol. If she's completely unrecognizable let me know, but I'm hoping she feels at least somewhat like Waller.
Forgot to say this in the last update, but still feel free to use all this as an overly long prompt if yall want. Literally anything I throw out to the void should be treated as a prompt lol If there's anything at all interesting to you in any of this nonsense go for it <3 <3 <3
---
Amanda Waller was someone who did what needed to be done.
Ruthless, heartless, vicious, cruel.
She’d been called it all. Wore the words thrown as insults as a badges of pride and valor. Because at the end of the day, when it came to the problems she was given to face, the issues she was meant to solve, those words meant she’d done what others had been too squeamish or cowardly to do. Life was a never ending slog of trolley problems and she the only one unshakable enough to pull the levers that needed pulling.
It wasn’t so simple as a matter of greater good.
Greater good was what the weak willed muttered to themselves after having feelings over doing the bare minimum. A justification used by people on all sides to do what they wanted with fractured, faulty logic thrown around like truth was a thing immutable. To assuage their guilt when they were forced to make a call they didn’t want to.
It wasn’t a matter of greater good. It was a matter of preservation. Of protection. Of digging through the filth to find the threats skittering beneath and crush them with ruthless abandon. Of facing a god and not blinking because if you did it could cost the world.
Of doing what needed to be done, no matter how underhanded or atrocious it was.
Hands dirty.
Hands red.
Hands wrapped tight around the throat of something that could threaten to destroy it all.
When the Ghost Investigation Ward had been shoved her way with it’s sucking wound of a budget, it’s bloated incompetent staff, its asinine methods she’d seen a rotted limb in need of hacking off. It hadn’t been until she’d been conducting her inspection, digging through the trash for a few pearls of effective agents she could snatch up and put to work elsewhere, that she’d truly seen what they were working on. The potential.
Potential to better arm themselves with in the forms of the strange new weapons being created.
Potential for threats far greater than anything even she had thought possible before.
The GIW as it had been when she’d first come across it was a fetid waste of time and resources. A laughing stock agency only secret because no one took them seriously enough to look. Made stupid and useless with its own conceited delusions of importance it didn’t actually have. Yet.
She went to work on it. Hacking away as she’d originally intended, but this time with a different goal in mind. She ripped out the weeds with bare, calloused hands and planted proficiency and loyalty in their place. She took over as director herself, tossing the self-aggrandizing fool that had been running the place into the ground to the dogs as the culprit for misappropriate spendings, saving the agency by tweaking things until their ballooning budget was pinned neatly onto the former director as an embezzling charge.
Then she got to work.
The Fentons were brilliant, if entirely insane. But Amanda could work with that. She’d reigned Harley Quinn in - more or less - she could do the same to the two deranged scientists that so eagerly wanted to be apart of the fight against the dead. Especially when the benefit came in the form of the inventions they threw together so easily, especially when those inventions were weapons.
It took very little to get them on board with her plans for the GIW. Keeping their focus could be a chore, at times, but she didn’t even have to really do much in the way of pressing to get them back where she wanted them. They craved knowledge and understanding nearly as much as they craved the eradication of the entities themselves. Letting them have the first look at a new subject here, free reign over a vivisection there, it took so little to fuel their fervor and keep them busy working on the projects she set for them.
Things had been going smoothly.
For a time at least.
Until Phantom.
He’d been the main focus of the previous director’s attention, the big fish he’d so desperately wanted to catch and put up on his wall. Amanda wouldn’t lie and say it wasn’t a tempting prospect, but not one she’d put above the other projects she had set in motion since taking over. No, Phantom was powerful, enough to be a real problem one day, but she could the awkward youth in the way he held himself, the inexperience in how he handled situations. She had time to get everything else in order before focusing on getting Amity Park’s would-be hero brought to heel.
And he would be brought to heel. One way or another.
Hands dirty.
Hands red.
Hands wrapped tight around the Core of a fledgling god and bending him to her will.
An artifact, old an powerful, recovered with some effort. A means of controlling specters, of chaining them to the will of the artifact’s wielder. Dangerous in the wrong hands. Dangerous in the right hands.
It was shattered, and even whole and functional Phantom was resistant to its power. But Amanda Waller prided herself in her ability to see the potential in things. It could be repaired, be made better. Even gods could be bound, be made to kneel, with the right pieces, with the right application of force.
It was just a matter of time to gather everything needed.
Phantom didn’t know he could single handedly destroy every last member of the Justice League. The baby fat, the innocent eyes, the split-second hesitations when he fought. He knew enough to be confident in fighting the usual ghosts that haunted Amity Park, but he still very much saw himself as a little fish. Maybe it was the part of him that was still Daniel Fenton, gangly teenager not quite sure what he was truly capable of yet.
She had time before the Fenton’s son truly became an issue. Time to judge if his parents’ obsessiveness would overcome their - rather shoddy, by Amanda’s estimation - parental instincts and continue to hunt him once they knew the truth. Time to get as much out of them as she could before hand, should they falter at the idea of attacking their own son. Time for the staff to be repaired and returned to working order, to get the other items needed for the truly big fish hidden on the other side of the veil between worlds.
She had time.
Until she didn’t.
Pariah Dark had not been something she thought she’d have to account for - not yet, at least.
If he wasn’t already dead, she’d ring the Ghost King’s neck with her bare hands. His arrival had opened Phantom’s eyes to what he was capable of, of just how big of a fish he was. Worse still, Phantom’s defeat of the war mongering King changed the state of play. Phantom was no longer an impressively powerful half dead teenager.
He was King Infinite.
He was an Ancient.
He was getting on her last damn nerves.
Phantom’s rogue gallery were now firmly under the boy’s control. Still distinct nuisances around Amity Park, but no longer considered true concerns. They were loyal to their boy king, delighting in ruffling his feathers but never crossing the line into treason or attempted regicide. Which meant that the GIW was the only thing that held his attention.
Amanda took the time to send a care package to the former GIW director in his tiny, dank prison cell. As thanks for his carelessness in revealing to the entire town - both living and dead - of the agency’s existence and their intentions. Had he stuck to standard protocol, Phantom would have been none the wiser to their presence. Would have scratched his head and shrugged his shoulders at the ghost that went missing upon occasion. Would have been boredly uninterested in the people his parents had begun working with. Would have been taken by surprise when they finally came for him.
But no.
No that self-obsessed, fame chasing imbecile had to go and announce to everyone and their dead mother that the GIW existed and exactly what it was they were in Amity Park to do.
Phantom knew what they were there to do.
They could only count on his naive certainty that he could broker peace with them for so long.
Peace. As if he and his people weren’t the invading force, the monsters slipping in through the cracks between worlds, the latest threat that had to be accounted for. As if he himself hadn’t rent their world asunder himself in another world, another time. No. Peace was not something they could hash out with this baby-faced monarch with his too-big crown. Peace was the assurance of safety, security. Of control of the situation.
There could be no peace.
The higher ups were somehow surprised when Phantom took that to mean there would be war.
Amanda Waller was not.
The Fentons, as suspected, took the right side when all was revealed. Steady hands and flinty eyes as they crafted the weapons that would be needed for the coming fight. Minds even sharper in their maddened grief, hearts set on revenge for the son lost and the entity that stole his face and friends and sister in his garish pretense at humanity. They were blinded to the reality of the situation in its entirety, the potential in what their son truly was, but at the end of the day it didn’t really matter. They did what she needed them to do, they could believe whatever it was they wanted so long as they did.
By the time the boy king and his armies marched upon the Amity park facility, preparations had been put into place. The base in Amity had been stripped back to bare essentials, everything of importance moved to more secured locations.
The weapons labs.
The artifact.
The girl.
All tucked well away from the front lines where Phantom and his motley crew could not reach. Their time to be put in play would come, but not yet. First she needed to gauge what Phantom and his people were capable of, what they were willing to do in the name of what they wanted. Amity Park was a pawn well sacrificed on that front. As were the other facilities she’d left easy to find.
The problem with making children gods, with giving them crowns and calling them King and giving them armies to play with, was that they thought there should be rules. That even in the trenches tearing apart their enemies, there was a certain level of playing fair that everyone was held to. They thought there was a way the world worked, of how things should be that blinded them to more effective options even as time stretched on and desperation set in.
It was the Dead’s problem though, not hers.
She reached out to the Justice League. Sour faced, unhappy, bitterly reluctant to accept that she needed their help. Stone faced and barely containing their rage at what little they knew of the situation, they agreed to a meeting.
She didn’t let herself smile until she was well and truly alone in her office.
Greater good. A lie people told themselves. A fairytale told to children. A means of convincing the weaker willed that they had no choice, that they had a noble duty to bend to. A belief that could be wielded like a weapon if the fantasy of the idea had dug in deep enough. And there were few it had dug into so deep as the members of the Justice League.
Amanda Waller was someone who did what needed to be done.
Hands dirty.
Hands red.
Hands clenched tight on a victory long in the making.
---
Part Four
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gurumog · 2 years ago
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Doctor Who: City of Death (1977) BBC Televison Wri. "David Agnew" (David Fisher, Douglas Adams, and Graham Williams) Dir. Michael Hayes
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