#bloodhound character study

[nebuliias]

Your probably busy with your own life but is it alright if I could request reader being the younger sibling of Sunday and Robin

Do you know the scene where Robin gets 'killed'? what if instead of Robin it was the reader? how would Sunday and Robin react to the news of their younger sibling getting 'killed'?

Thank you for your time and have a great day/noon/night!!

SYNOPSIS. . . With the Charmony Festival nearing by the day, the revered Halovian siblings start getting anxious when their kin hasn’t been heard of for days.

CHARACTERS FEATURED. . . sunday and robin

CW: hurt/no comfort (I tried), gn and sibling! reader, they’re your biological older siblings, potential spoilers, platonic, like one mention of Gopher Wood, reader is aged 16 and a Nameless

— A/N’s note: HIIII EVERYONE. wow i actually posted something since who knows how long LMAO. so sorry for lack of updates, motivation has been very low and dry lately. anyways NEW FORMAT everyone

The air in Dewlight Pavilion was thick with worry and tension as the Charmony Festival’s date approached. The legendary siblings, Sunday and Robin, were together in the study room, their faces betraying their concern.

Their precious youngest sibling—basically, you—had promised yesterday to pay a visit in Moment of Morning Dew since you haven’t seen them for so long, considering your occupation as a Nameless.

Normally, Sunday, your protective older brother, would let your delays slide—if only it wasn’t for the fact that you were three hours late.

As for Robin, she nervously combed her fingers through her hair while adjusting her dainty neck pieces. “Brother, perhaps you should sit down for awhile? You’ve been pacing back and forth for awhile. Maybe they’re just visiting some shop or strolling—”

“Robin, it’s been three long hours,” he abruptly stated. “I’m pretty sure they’re not strolling around at some random park in the Dreamscape. They’re always punctual, you know that!” The man sighed, eventually sitting down beside his younger sister.

Poor Sunday, he was visibly anxious and worried. He plucked at several loose hair strands and feathers from the wings by his ears. Ever the neat perfectionist, it was ironic to see him in such a distressed state. But Robin couldn’t blame him.

It had been a pretty long time after all…

Just when she was about to excuse herself to use to the restroom, a Bloodhound guard came bursting through the grand wooden doors, a manilla folder in his sweaty hand.

“Ah, Mr. Sunday..! Oh, and hello, Miss Robin,” he panted. “My deepest apologies for interrupting whatever was happening, but I have urgent news to report.”

Sunday rapidly approached the man. “What happened? Hold on, is this about..?”

“Yes,” the Bloodhound confirmed. “Another person has fallen victim to ‘Death.’ We’ve gathered enough information, but I’m afraid you’ll be displeased who said person was.”

There was a moment of silence as Sunday split the folder open, revealing three sheets of paper. His hand trembled ever so slightly as he picked up a sheet, already thinking the worst.

Please, don’t let it be who I think it is.

Robin, who was peering over his shoulder, audibly gasped, stumbling back with a gloved hand at her mouth, muffling the incoming sobs. “No.. No, it can’t be!”

The Bloodhound bowed deeply, his face contorted in distress. “My condolences, Mr. Sunday and Miss Robin, but Y/N.. was killed by the Memory Zone Meme.”

The siblings stared blankly at the papers spread out on the desk.

•••

Name: Y/N L/N

Family: Gopher Wood, Dreammaster and adoptive father | Sunday, Oak Family Head and older brother | Robin, cosmic superstar and older sister.

Age: 16

Affliation: Nameless

Cause of death: Memory Zone Meme, “Death”—stab wound through the heart.

•••

There were several photographs taken of the scene, and Robin felt overwhelming nausea at the mere sight of it. Her body went rigidly stiff, her chest rose and fell slowly, and the world around her blurred. One hand shielded her lips and the other was put over her heart.

Meanwhile, Sunday’s strong-willed heart shattered. He felt so many things at once: shock, fury, sadness, despair—basically every negative emotion wrote in the dictionary. Yet at the same time, he didn’t know what to feel.

After awhile, the Halovian idol stood up, her legs now jittery from the sudden revelation. She took in a shaky deep breath before exhaling, not daring to break down in front of her brother. “…I’m going to use the restroom.” With that, she slowly walked out of the study, leaving the revered leader alone with his turmoil.

None of them couldn’t think straight, but who could blame them? Their sibling was dead. Their youngest sibling was dead. Their kin was dead. Their determined Nameless. Their sibling was dead.

Sunday, now isolated, suddenly felt hot beneath his clothing. His mind was disturbed, and his blue-gray wings twitched madly. He didn’t know how to act, but in the end, he let out a cry and ripped the papers apart along with the photographs before throwing the folder in a nearby trash can.

Oh, how he felt like diving into it himself. He felt like trash itself now—unwanted, crumbled, and torn apart.

Back with Robin, she ran past several Oak Family servants and dashed into the restroom, madly locking the door to ensure no one would run into her. She fell against the toilet and heaved into it, her nausea reaching its brink.

After the ordeal, she wiped her mouth before staring at herself in the mirror, unable to hold back her sadness anymore. Transparent tears poured down her flawless face, carving dry rivers in their run. Sorrowful sobs sounded from her throat, her once melodious voice now gone harsh.

Poor you. Poor, poor, poor, you. You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve any of this. You didn’t deserve to have your life crushed like a ladybug.

Just.. why..?

all rights reserved © nebuliias. do not copy, re-upload, or plagiarize my fics. if you see anyone doing this to my work, LET ME KNOW.

[bonesfool]

Some Observations upon the Taming of the Bloodhound (aka The Bloodhound) Masterpost:

The Bloodhound is the Sherlock Holmes audiodrama adaptation I’m mostly just writing for fun (but if it ever got enough interest I would consider actually attempting to produce it). I am currently looking for beta reader(s) and sensitivity readers [Chinese-English for Mrs. Hudson (all stories), Ute/southwest indigenous for Jefferson Hope (Study in Scarlet), Romanichal for general story content and original character (The Speckled Band)]

In an alternate history Victorian England where some technology (most notably audio recording) is anachronistically advanced and the British Empire is starting to collapse, Dr. Watson distracts himself from his spoils of war (PTSD, a prosthetic arm, and a growing resentment towards British nationalism) by obsessively recording his very queer roommate and his very singular profession.

Drafts:

Study in Scarlet: Part 1 (7 episodes, 33K)

Study in Scarlet: Part 2 (4 episodes, 18K)

Gloria Scott (3 episodes, 17K)

The Speckled Band (4 episodes, 22K)

Art:

General art tag

Character concept art

Episode title art

Misc:

General tag (where I put everything including reblogged posts that remind me of Them)

Meta/Musings

[slightly-warmer-hibiscus-tea]

CW: OC talk + Rambling / Blood / Gore / Censored Nudity (character sheet) / Mentions of Drugging

(idk why these warnings are so intense, but I swear it's all just silly OC talk T^T)

I’m kinda sorta working on more (comprehensible) TS OC stuff in between studying right now… I wanna hurry and talk about them but without info dumping (if given the opportunity I will without hesitation 😔…) because in terms of the best stories I have conjured up for OCs in general Naudedel and Noble are surprisingly good and I’m very excited to share how deranged they are together…

Right now it’s just about making Naudy readable and working on extra fun stuff… like monsters!

I’m trying to work out his “monster” form…. The concept is there, but the execution is just not ticking the right boxes for me right now… also, the line art at the end is old and probably will go unused, but thought it was something to add here because like hehe look at my deranged son :)

When it comes to the writing I'm going to split it into two chapters. The first half will be a summary+ of his upbringing, and the second on how he fucked up his arm and why. Just enough info to get a read on what his deal is pretty much. I just need to edit the first chapter and rewrite some parts then it's ready to annoy the world!

I'm trying to think of a good design for his original mother... I'm thinking dark hair and milf (¬‿¬)･ﾟ✧ ... honestly I need to start drawing out the designs for all the other TS OCs I've accumulated over the year (?) here's a fun list-

Hickery (bloodhound OC... dilf oc...I've already been made fun of for his name, but it stuck to me so I'm keeping it!)

Maya (another bloodhound OC)

Cove (Hound's ex-husband)

Cetcher's gf + informant, who still needs a good name...

and that one guy! (doesn't have a name yet... but is important in Hound's part of the story... she bashed some of his guys in the back of head with a hammer... it was a whole thing... Leander got involved... gang war stuff, don't worry about it...)

There are technically more OCs, like that Hightown lady Noble befriended during their first few weeks in town. However, I'm not sure if I'm including her in the final plot meeting. But yeah, anyway I'm rambling so on to Noble news!

For Noble, everything is plotted out in advance surprisingly…character playlist and all... just need to find the words to explain their story other than “parasite with a weird God complex feels guilty” I do have some old memes and art of them though!

Noble curse stuff...

Childhood cult stuff...

Current reality...

Poor person masquerade dress censored for tumblr...

Noble folks!

I actually wrote out a whole little thing for the black dress in a what-if scenario of...

"Oh! ,,,What if there is a masquerade in Hightown and Noble sneaks in to get some information on a certain individual who might know a thing or two about curses, but turns out the whole event if devious and their all eating babies or some fucked up shit,,,, and what if while sneaking around they see Leander and are like 'what's he doing here?' and they lock eyes but he ignores them as he ducks into a closed off area with some important looking people,,, once he comes out he walks past them and they lock eyes again as he leaves,,, Noble chases after him and once they catch up they get to see his cold and detached side right before he hides them from the other guest,,, after they talk for a bit, or more like Leander talking over them and their worries as he slowly wipes their memories while they protest that it's not fair only to wake up the next day back in their room,,, thankfully their curse is good for more then just silly bouts of insanity so they have a hunch on what happened, everyone around them who knew where they went the night before were obviously worried and the general consensus is that they might have been drugged and should go check in with Kuras just in case (wow this is getting long...) but on their way to the clinic they run into Leander and of course discusses their current problem with him ,,, words are exchanged,,, a kabedon may occur,,, as he whispers in their ear,,, all fun till he erases their memories again, or at least tires before receiving a little gift that makes him look at this whole curse thing from a different angle." DEEP BREATH! ...Anyways... yeah.

But it was taking so long to write out that I ended up losing motivation so yeah... like everything else we will pray the motivation comes back so I can finish that... plus who knows, I might make an x reader version of it if I can. (don't hold your breath... I'm extremely slow)

Anyway, I'm gonna to shut up now because I've yapped enough. I'mma make some hibiscus tea (ironic) and head to bed... Night night, if you made it this far, thank you for listening to my craziness <3

[connor-rk800]

A Bloodhound's Rehabilitation

Words: 63,374

Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor, Markus/Connor, Connor & Alice Williams, Connor & Gavin Reed

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Detroit Become Human

Tags: Character Study, Slow Burn

Link: A Bloodhound's Rehabilitation - Chapter 1 - thespacebetweenstars - Detroit: Become Human (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]

Summary:

It's moments after the Android Revolution, and Connor's realizing his journey is far from over. His new, explosive feelings are a struggle, his relationship with Hank is on the rocks, and he recently pulled a gun on Markus against his will— and instead of processing any of that, he dives straight into a new case.

A murder at a mysterious mansion. Finally, something he can do right.

[moorishflower]

Bloodhound (Dream/Hob pre-relationship horror, EXPLICIT)

Bloodhound || Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling || Explicit || 15k

Body Horror, Psychological Horror, Transformation, Blood and Gore, Partial Mind Control, Unconditional Love, Hunger, Violence, Hob Gadling Saves Dream of the Endless | Morpheus from Roderick Burgess, POV Hob Gadling, BAMF Hob Gadling, Loyalty, Pre-Relationship, Fantasizing, Oral Sex, Food Binging, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Dark, Character Study, Dream's Ruby, Hopeful Ending, Lots of Hurt A Little Comfort, Pining

It's a square gem in an antique gold setting, real antique gold, with the sort of dullness to the metal that tells its age. There's nothing particularly ornate about it. The ruby itself is a simple cut – he’s not a jeweller, doesn’t know what to call it precisely, but it’s square-ish and bevelled at the edges – but it catches the light in such a way that it makes it seem like it has a thousand facets all across the surface of it. The rain creates a stippled effect, and even through two separate panes of glass Hob can see his reflection peering back at himself through the ruby’s deep face. £2500, says a placard set in front of it. Early 1900s RUBY pendant - real!!! In 1989, drunk and heartsore and stumbling home from the soon-to-be-destroyed White Horse, Hob Gadling -- world's most loyal hound -- comes across a familiar-looking ruby in a pawn shop window.

Read it on AO3 here!

[aerascreamer]

Me, You and Regret

Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Major Character Death

Chapter 2: Two Birds and Two Reds

Chapter: one | three

Damian rubbed his temples as he sat by the edge of a building.

Lifting his head, he stared at Gotham’s skyline curving in front of him. The glass towers reflected the dying sun and its vibrant colours. A thick fog crawled its way into the alleys, competing with the pollution smoke. The cars, tiny as ants, lazily made their way back home as the dark blue of the night grew bolder with each minute. Gotham doesn’t have the intricate and ancient beauty of Nanda Parbat, but it has its own charm and personality. Still, Damian deeply missed the stars he could see from the windows of his birth home.

Just like he missed his family.

His entire body tensed at the thought that he had his counterpart put in one of the cells he built. A knot made its way into his stomach with the realisation that completed phase two of the Plan. He was still in disbelief that he got further than phase one, which was to build a device allowing him to travel freely between dimensions. Yet he did it. He’s now there, in this universe, where his siblings are… alive.

Alive.

Damian’s throat closed.

There’s no turning back.

Phase three of the Plan is starting: blending in with the family. He studied them for month in order to establish what is the kind of relationship they had with this world’s Damian. With them being vigilante and detectives, they will smell any disturbances in his character from miles away like bloodhounds. Damian couldn’t risk spoiling the Plan like this. He needed to prevent any suspicions or else, he wouldn’t be able to lure them into his dimension. He slowly pressed on the communicator he stole from his other self.

“Robin reporting. My lead on the Riddler turned out to be another dead end.”

The com cracked to life.

“Copy that,” Batman spoke. “I want you to check Chinatown with Red Robin next.”

Robin licked his dry lips.

“Again? Why do you insist on pairing us together?” he said.

“There’s still room for the both of you to improve your relationship and by extension, your ability to work together instead of constantly fighting.”

“He’s barely making any efforts B. Can you just leave me out of this?” Tim’s voice intervened. 

Damian’s eyes itched. The last time he heard Tim’s voice was two years ago…a lifetime ago. Robin closed his eyes and focused on keeping his voice steady.

“I’m not interested in spending more time with Red Robin either,” he said. “And I can patrol fine on my own.”

“No, I insist that you work together.”

“Ugh… Let’s meet on the roof of Miss Zhang’s restaurant then, Robin.”

“Tt… fine”

The comm closed. Robin pulled out his grappling gun and jumped off the roof. He took his time moving around the city as he needed each second of the trip to grasp at the reality he’s in now.

The thought of finally being able to talk with Tim made his chest ache in anticipation. In this world, Tim and his Damian were on semi-good terms. They work well together but don't spend much time outside patrol interacting. Damian expected worse in all honesty, but it seems the two have come a long way since their first encounter. Though it was nowhere near his relationship to his Tim. They grew close together after Dick, Jason, Cass and Steph were gone. Robin and Red Robin, last two left of the flock with Signal… until his brother…

Damian stopped to rub his temples again. The headache from the lack of sleep and the multiple inter-dimensional travel is starting to get to him. It might be time to take some rest soon. Tonight, he will be going to the Manor. Damian wondered if the interior is similar to his own Manor. He didn’t dare to step foot in there yet, in case he trips any security system… or maybe he just wasn’t ready yet to get so close to the others. The young boy stared into the distance, trying to find the shape of the Manor’s roof in the distance.

Sometime later, Robin arrived near the rendezvous point. He stopped at the top of a complex next to the one from Miss Zhang’s. Looking down, he saw that Red Robin already there. The young man was crouched in the shadows to observe a dark warehouse through binoculars. Biting his tongue to stop his eyes from tearing up, Damian observed his brother.

He looked at peace, even bored by the stakeout. Damian’s own Tim always looked haunted and exhausted before his death, even when pretending to be fine for Damian’s sake. But Damian noticed how much it broke him to lose everyone. Especially Dick. And he still felt guilty that he took so much of their oldest brother’s time for himself and away from Tim.

He should have learned to share.

Robin creeped behind Red Robin in perfect silence, hoping to catch him off guard.

“For someone who nags everyone about punctuality, you sure took your time,” the older vigilante declared without taking his eyes off the binoculars.

“There were puppies left in a trash canister. I took them to the vet.”

Tim made a disapproving sound.

“There are so many shelters that have been opened, and people still dump animals in the garbage?”

“Some people’s cruelty knows no limit,” Damian said. “What are you doing?”

“Surveilling this building. Oracle received a tip that Dent’s men were gathering here.”

“I thought he died when the old church collapsed.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t possible for him to escape… but his body was never found. Chances are he did survive.”

Robin crouched by Red Robin’s side. Instead of observing the warehouse, he focused on their surrounding in case foes are lurking around. But the atmosphere remained calm and silent. Silence has been bothering Damian a lot as of late, a constant reminder that it was once filled by jokes, jabs or unsubtle flirting through comms. He pulled out his sword to sharpen it and let out a yawn. Tim scoffed.

“You tear me an earful every day for my sleeping habits, but you aren’t doing much better you hypocrite.”

“I’ve been trained since the age four to be able to operate at full capacity even after four days of no sleep. You, you indulge in energy drinks, coffee and other monstrosity that will give you a heart attack in two years.”

“Your upbringing isn’t a good model to follow for raising a child.”

“At least my kidneys and liver will be thankful for it.”

Damian poked at Tim’s side.

“And so will my spleen.”

Tim grunted.

“Oh, shut up, it was one time- oh that’s interesting.”

Robin turned to the warehouse’s entrance. He saw two people moving in while carrying large suspicious bags.

“This is the fourth time two people entered at the same time,” Red Robin informed.

“And this building has the number twenty-two.” Robin completed.

The young man got up.

“Ok, I want to go in and see what’s going on. But if there are goons inside, we are not going to take them down yet.”

Robin scrunched his nose as Red Robin.

“Why not?”

“They might give us clues to Two-Face’s location if we are listening in and gathering data,” Red Robin said.

Even though he’s grown to respect the slower and tactical approach of his brother, Robin still finds it frustrating to work with.

“But taking out his men now will slow down the expansion of his operations while they are still young.”

“It’s better to aim for the source than spend too much efforts on the henchmen.”

“Tt... fine. We’ll stick to your plan. But only because Father wants us to team up.”

Robin jumped off the building and shoot his grapple gun towards the next rooftop. He broke his fall with a smooth forward roll and heard Red Robin do the same. The older vigilante headed for the door and unlocked it in just a few seconds. Robin rushed inside, wanting to be in front to take the burn of any potential attack. As both stayed in the shadows, they walked down the stairs and found their way to the rafters above the warehouse’s main room.

“Bingo,” Red Robin whispered.

Below them, a large group of hench-men stood around criminal lieutenants, who were sitting around a large table.

“Nuh uh, Boss Dent was clear: no less than 10’000,” a young man declared.

“Is he crazy? Just for a gun?”, an elder masked person said.

“This isn’t “just a gun”. It’s comes straight from War World…”

The two vigilantes watched a group of people discussing around a table. Some of them were part of Two-Face’s gang, as per their outfit. Others were clearly sent there by the Penguin while the rest wore rather neutral outfits. They all stared at each other with suspicion, hands hovering near their weapons. On the table, various objects were displayed like hunt prizes: guns, new techs, alien techs and comically large briefcases filled with money. An indescribable gun rested between the hands of the Two-Face goon. He slowly turned it around to display and taunt the buyers.

“At least let me have a look so I’ll know if it’s worth it.”

“My orders were strict: Only the person who pay the price will have the chance to touch it.”

The elder leaned against someone standing by his side. They talked in hushed and inaudible voices before the person looked at the young man:

“5’000.”

“10’000. Take it or leave it.”

Robin heard the sound of Red Robin’s fingers tapping his arm guards. Surprise hit him, along with nostalgia. Usually, Tim would tap against his utility belt, which irritated Damian to the point of wanting to kick his brother. But now, he found himself missing those little things from his siblings: Dick’s constant hair ruffling, Cassandra's excitement to seeing cute animals, Jason’s humming of musical tracks or Steph’s jokes in the Batchat at four in the morning…

“Hm… 6’000.”

“Ugh… Any other suggestion?”, the man asked to the crowd.

“Maybe…15’000?”

Damian startled at the familiar voice. He watched Jason land on the table, hands clutching a large suite case. The goons immediately pointed their gun at him.

“Always the dramatic jerk,” Red Robin commented.

“Ok, ok. I’m not looking for a fight right now. In fact, I’d like to do some trade,” Hood said with a placating hand.

The whole room looks at him with an unconvinced expression. Damian shifted his body, trying to chase away the creeping dread.

“Well, if you need proof of my sincerity…”

Red Hood put down the suitcase and opened it. The room fell still as they ogled the stacks of bills.

“What is he doing, dealing with Two-Face’s gang?”, Red Robin asked in a whisper.

“Whatever, he is tacking unnecessary and idiotic risks,” Robin sneered.

The man with the gun stared down at Hood, before slowly reaching to the case. He carefully examined the hinges and the peeling paint coat before grabbing a bill. Once the goon verified the authenticity, he grabbed a money counter from under the table. It took a while to calculate the amount, but the machine finally displayed 15000. The goon gave a large grin. He put the gun in a different case and slid it to Hood.

“Well, you paid so it’s all yours.”

Low whispers and displeased expression spread through the crowd as Red Hood took the case. Robin saw Penguin’s goons talking in a hushed tone with somber expression, so he set a hand on his sword. As Hood made his way out, the group all drew their guns and shot at him. The vigilante dodged the bullets, clearly expecting the low blow.

Robin jumped from his hiding spot as the chaos filled the room. He immediately knocked out a tall man by landing on him before charging at a woman with his sword. A well-placed slash to her knee and she fell to the ground. Robin lunged at a small figure trying to get the jump on Red Hood and tackled them to the ground. He stuck a nerve cluster, making the figure writhe in pain. He turned towards a short man dressed in yellow when Red Hood’s voice boomed behind him.

“Robin, get down!”

Robin ducked and saw a chair flying above him towards a large goon who was charging at him. He turned to Hood with a raised brow.

“Was that really necessary?”

“Yes, now shut up and fight.”

Robin jumped at a skinny guy and fought back to back with Hood. He watched in his periphery Red Robin jumping over the back of a man with white hair and kick two goons in the face. Robin hurled himself at a tall woman, pinning her to the floor and taking her out. Meanwhile Red Hood shot at incoming enemies to cover Robin. He managed to keep them at bay even with one hand stuck holding the case.

But as he shifted his attention to a skinny woman, Robin heard a scream from Red Robin. He turned to see his brother trying to push back five opponents with his staff, blood pouring from a stab on his leg. So, he charged at biggest of the five and slashed his back. Not giving him a break, he manoeuvred around him and broke his nose with a punch. The man fell down. Damian turned around and kicked the groin of a short person wearing a bird mask. Damian grabbed the person’s shirt and threw them at a third foe. He caught a  glimpse woman aiming at Tim.

“RR, on your right!”

Tim rolled to the floor, dodging the bullet. He got up and broke the jaw of the fourth  with his bow, but struggled to keep his balance. Damian threw a Batarang at the shooter  and attacked the last opponent facing Tim. But the man saw him and hurled his fist at his face. Damian fell back, his vision blurred by the pain. He let out a scream when his opponent kicked him in the guts.

“Robin!”

Tim pushed the man off of him but fell hard on his side. Still, he pushed himself up and used his cape to hide Damian behind him. Jason appeared from nowhere and filled the man with lead. As the goon collapsed, he yanked both Robins on his shoulders and grappled away from to the warehouse’s roof, then a nearby one, leaving the gangs to fight each other.

Jason set Tim and Damian on the floor as gently as he could. Damian got up, still out of breath, and looked at Tim. He bit his tongue and struggled to not let anguish show on his face. He crouched next to Tim and examined the injury with Jason. It was deep and bleeding a lot but didn’t seem to have hit any major vein or artery. With a good dressing and a fast trip to the Cave, he should be fine. Jason suddenly turned towards him.

“I have bad news for you: Pretender will live.”

“Shut up. If it weren’t for intervention, we wouldn’t be in this situation. And you lost the gun,” Tim said.

“Well that’s one way to thank the guy who saved your life,” Jason replied while taking out medical supplies.”

“My main lead to Two-Face is gone.”

“Good thing I saw his running away with my suitcase, which I made sure to bug before coming.”

Tim looked at Jason with an annoyed expression.

“If you’re that unhappy with the outcome of this stakeout, I will gladly finish the enemy’s job and put an end to your misery,” Damian teased, relived that Tim felt good enough to nag.

“You know what, I’ll take that offer so I won’t have to spend more time with you. Both of you.”

“And then the old man will actually have our heads,” Jason replied as he finished setting the gauze.

Damian looked at the two reds bickering. He was glad that this universe’s Jason seemed closer to the family than his. With all the hurt and history, it was hard to get close to Jason. It was hard to see past the bravado and the anger he shrouded himself in. Guilt climbed up Damian’s throat. He couldn’t help but think that if he and the others had a better relationship with his second older brother, maybe they would have been able to save him. Maybe Jason would have called sooner for help…

“Your nose is good Robin?”, Tim asked.

“It’s not broken nor bleeding. I’m fine.”

“Good,” Jason said. “Anyway, I got people to shoot. See you never nerds.”

He jumped off the roof and into the darkness while Tim pinched the bridge of his nose. Damian clicked his tongue, a forgotten warmth filling his chest once again.

[sheree-says-stuff]

What are your favorite South Park headcanons? 🖖🏻

It took me ten million years to respond to this because I don't really have SP headcannons (besides my AU fics) so I had to make a list!

ALSO THANK YOU FOR ASKING, I LOVE GETTING ASKS!!!!

Kyle

i'm an average-height kyle truther. he's no shorter than 5'9" but no taller than 5'11".

horror movie fanatic but probably threw up while watching midsommar (and never finished it).

^ also a giant Scream fan. owns so much ghostface merch.

probably chubby.

straight as a board. he is so heteronormative, it's not even funny.

favorite bands are Bloodhound Gang and Insane Clown Posse but his guilty pleasure is Conan Gray (and cartman makes fun of him for it)

insomniac. bro CANNOT sleep ‼️

Kenny

tall kenny is the only valid take for me. he is 6'2" for sure and he uses his height to be intimidating when he wants to be.

when he's older, he moves to Italy with Cartman (don't ask how either of them afford it, just go with it)

he for sure writes fics about himself on a burner account.

is really good at school without having to study. naturally quick to learn.

is straight but will do anything for money (hey, $20 is $20!)

can talk to the dead and/or supernatural. can tell when ghosts are around.

COVERED in scars

Stan

short and skinny. i'm talking 5'6".

idkw but i imagine him being mexican, or at least partially mexican.

chronically depressed (and probably has OCD) but not an alcoholic or substance user.

hates weed because he grew up on a weed farm.

you cannot convince me that he doesn't watch Family Guy.

will sleep anywhere in any position.

closeted bisexual.

Cartman

is really good at playing instruments, becomes a famous lead singer in a pop band

is actually really intelligent but refuses to apply himself in school.

sent to boarding school, came back unrecognizable

football player, probably a quarterback

i really like the intersex cartman theory

doesn't believe in evolution or science

probably has a lot of trauma

Other characters:

Butters is blind in one eye from the Weapons episode

Butters is also extremely Type A as he grows up

Wendy, Heidi, Nicole, and Bebe don't have social media for feminist reasons

Jimmy can rap better than Eminem

Tweek loves true crime but is scared of FNaF

the only person who loves b@relyhuman more than Tweek is Craig

[streetdogsthecomic]

STREET DOGS - Character profiles #2

Buncha male characters I needed to make concept art for! Heres a lil info about each of em 👇

Nick (he/him) - Pyromancer Hunter - Son of a single and mechanic dad - Loves playing the guitar! Dreams of playing in a band someday

Jayce (he/him) - Sage Hunter - Has 2 pet cockatiels and a parrot - Very calm and nice, it's hard to have something against him

Ash (he/him) - Jade's friend, studies in her former school - Member of The Graveyard Kids band - Has an unrequited crush on Jade

Gabriel (he/him) - Cursed human, enslaved by a wizard - Does not remember anything about his past - Allergic to cats

Antônio Miguel AKA Miguel, Tony (he/him) - He's the one who rides the bus that picks up Hunters from Venatio Academy to bring them to the Bloodhound camp! - Has had a few Monster encounters in the past, hence the scars all over his body - Himbo on the low

Some of this info is still up to changes futurely, but thats the main ideas for now!

[muppetears-stuff]

do you have any headcanons about Warren or other characters you like ?

Yes. Yes, I do. Thank you for asking!! ^^ more under the cut cause this gonna be long- :3

so, headcanons vvv

Bisexual. But that's just fanon-

I have a whole bunch of headcanons for double exposure Warren/design concepts that I have only thought of yet😔😔 but I will tell!!!

I love the idea of him having long hair, longer hair than original game Warren. He has it in a low ponytail, or I might just keep it down.

He's a lot more confident in his style and personality than teenage him, so I like to think he still sports the undershirts but wears jackets a lot more now, too. Lanyard covered in pins, and his student ID/regular ID, taking that from his original concept design for the first game because a lanyard feels SO Warren to me,,,,

Breaking away from double exposure thoughts. It's canon that he's friends with most girls at Blackwell. I like to think he's invited to sleepovers and hangouts sometimes, even if he's awkward around them, but he's one of the nicest guys at Blackwell. The girls are taking advantage of that.

I love the thought of nervous characters biting their nails (like me. And Warren is me /hj), and so he paints them/let's the girls paint them, it's to keep him from biting his nails off. If they're pretty or have something on them, he's not gonna wanna bite :]

Listens to bloodhound gang and Weezer. Specifically, "I wish I was queer so I could get chicks." By bloodhound gang and "I just threw out the love of my dreams." By Weezer. And weird al,,,,

He would've had such a wonderful dynamic between Chloe and Max, and I love to think that some rebel/mischievous part of him admired Chloe. He would drop everything to help Max and one of her friends if they needed help, as shown in the game. So he would've definitely helped with the mystery behind Rachel.

The type of guy to take one compliment from someone and think about it for the rest of his life. keeps him up at night type thing. /pos

Flocked to Max and thought he liked her, but it was just because she was the first person who made him feel seen and appreciated and made him feel like a person. He says it in the game, and it makes me cry, so it's not really a headcanon, but the first part is-

Gifted kid shame and burn out. Cries over getting a low grade or score and can not physically function for a week. I would love the idea of in game, him hanging around Chloe and Max, where some of his dialogue is him talking about how he should be back at Blackwell studying but finding what happened to Rachel is more important than an English paper.

If he does something cool as hell, he's gonna recognize it's cool as hell and gets giddy when someone else recognizes that it was cool. (the craving for validation, I get it.)

Mom friend, I have decided. Warren is not opposed to a little tomfoolery, maybe a bit of property damage, but if anyone got hurt while doing so, he's there with a bandaid and disinfectant immediately.

Presented Max with the idea of matching costumes for Halloween, Paulie Bleeker and Juno Macguff from Juno 2007, but she declined ,:3 (they are literally them!!!)

He's overly dramatic about things and will pull out the puppy dog eyes to get what he wants (which isn't a alot, he's a simple man.)

Bag, lanyard, jacket. COVERED in pins and patches of his interests/bands he likes

Has bumper stickers of movie references

Named his car. Her name is Lauren.

Mom knits things for him like sweaters, beanies, and mittens, and it's always a lovely gift during December<33 complete momma's boy.

Has vocal stims of random references that make him giggle way too much, repeats them for no reason. Picks at his cuticles or underneath his fingernails or messes with his undershirt sleeves. Constantly wiping his hands on his jeans. Big hand talker too :3

Wears a ton of wrist bands/bracelets and definitely ends up wearing concert wrist bands they give to you at the door for longer than needed because he forgets to take them off-

Is creatively stunted and can't visualize things properly. He wishes he had the creative brain that Max does so he can maybe see the world outside of facts and pre-established knowledge. Has a hard time writing because of it.

And that's it :DD I could probably do a part 2 with other characters,,,of course, if that is desired💖💖 thank you for asking!!

[puppyexpressions]

30 Fun Dog Facts

1. The Labrador Retriever has been on the AKC’s top 10 most popular breeds list for longer than any other breed.

2. A dog’s nose print is unique, much like a person’s fingerprint.

3. Forty-five percent of U.S. dogs sleep in their owner’s beds.

4. Speaking of sleeping … all dogs dream, but puppies and senior dogs dream more frequently than adult dogs.

5. Seventy percent of people sign their dog’s name on their holiday cards.

6. A dog’s sense of smell is legendary, but did you know that their nose has as many as 300 million receptors? In comparison, a human nose has about 5 million.

7. Rin Tin Tin, the famous German Shepherd Dog, was nominated for an Academy Award.

8. Dogs’ noses can sense heat and thermal radiation, which explains why blind or deaf dogs can still hunt.

9. The French Bulldog was first named the most popular breed in 2022.

10. The name Collie means “black.” (Collies once tended black-faced sheep.)

11. Yawning is contagious — even for dogs. Research shows that the sound of a human yawn can trigger one from your dog. And it’s four times as likely to happen when it’s the yawn of a person your pet knows.

12. The Dandie Dinmont Terrier is the only breed named for a fictional person, a character in the novel “Guy Mannering” by Sir Walter Scott.

13. Dogs curl up in a ball when sleeping to protect their organs — a holdover from their days in the wild, when they were vulnerable to predator attacks.

14. The Basenji is not technically “barkless,” as many people think. They can yodel.

15. The Australian Shepherd is not actually from Australia. In fact, they are an American breed.

16. … And the Labrador Retriever is originally from Newfoundland.

17. Human blood pressure goes down when petting a dog. And so does the dog’s.

18. There are over 75 million pet dogs in the U.S. — more than in any other country.

19. A person who hunts with a Beagle is known as a “Beagler.”

20. Dogs are not color-blind. They can see blue and yellow.

21. All puppies are born deaf.

22. Dalmatians are born completely white. They develop their spots as they get older.

23. Dogs have about 1,700 taste buds. We humans have between 2,000 and 10,000.

24. When dogs kick backward after they go to the bathroom, it’s not to cover it up, but to mark their territory, using the scent glands in their feet.

25. A study shows that dogs are among a small group of animals who show voluntary unselfish kindness towards others without any reward.

26. The Norwegian Lundehund is the only dog breed created for the job of puffin hunting.

27. Greyhounds can beat cheetahs in a race. While cheetahs can run twice as fast as Greyhounds, they can only maintain that 70 mph speed for about thirty seconds. A Greyhound can maintain a 35 mph speed for about seven miles. The cheetah may start out first, but the Greyhound would soon overtake them.

28. The Bloodhound’s sense of smell is so accurate that the results of its tracking can be used as evidence in a court of law.

29. According to Guinness World Records, a Great Dane named Zeus is the world’s tallest male dog. Zeus is 3 feet, 5.18 inches tall.

30. What about the shortest dog? According to Guinness World Records, the shortest dog ever recorded was Pearl the Chihuahua. She measures 3.59 inches tall.

[thelastbarricade]

Bloodhound Part 2:

Vacant

pt. 2 of ?

[ read on ao3 ]

summary:

"You think that if you burn down you'll be fine

and I'll forget all the times you lied." - 'VACANT' by Echoes

--

Your words echo in Cooper Howard’s thoughts.

‘Shoulda’ killed me when I was under, Coop’.’

Doesn’t he know it.

word count : 3.3k

tags: the ghoul x you, the ghoul x oc

warnings: violence, swearing, drug usage, emotional abuse, mutual pining, character study, multiple pov's (will add more as the story progresses)

notes:

Cooper's POV, more or less!

Say hello to my first fic attempt in...two years? Oh boy. All comments and feedback very much appreciated and feel free to hit me up in my messages and start a convo!

Narration and form may not be entirely polished so please pardon my dust.

xx korine <3

The stint he’s fashioned against his leg is a temporary fix at best. The tattered garb shoved deep into the gash is already swollen with fluids. If he keeps it in any longer it’ll just impart the healing further. Cooper relents.

Mirages danced across the dimming light above the sprawling sands just beyond Cooper Howard’s reach.

Fuck.

Daylight’s been on his side since you’d gone down sometime before dawn.

He couldn’t blame you. You didn’t know what whiskey, hell—a proper drink—was. Hadn’t the luxury of it in your short little life. When he’d come across a sealed shelf label bottle somewhere in the wastes trades, he’d jumped on it. Didn’t matter what it’d most likely (definitely) been cut with. The fire and flame coating his throat comforted all the same.

A perfect opportunity. For him or you, Cooper just couldn’t be sure anymore.

You’d enjoyed what taste you’d had. He was sure of it. The carefree curve your lips had softened into as your body began to give in to the pleasures of your drinks domestic pleasures. Pleasures a man like him was not near deserving enough of to bear witness to. But you’d been dropped into his lap like some twisted form of comfort and consequence.

A better man might not have obliged.

Cooper grinds out his complaints in hushed curses and heavy breaths as he climbs. The withering metal structures surrounding the perimeter of the building moan and groan, steps preceded by the low hum of the growing winds at his back. He shimmies his way across a deteriorating overhang leading into the next factory’s building over. The dunes covered his ascent and the mangled scraps of gutted warehouse roofing created a constant cover.

Cooper had only cleared a couple of hundred feet between the both of you.

Was he a fool to stay in such close proximity?

Of course.

Did he have another option?

The once-man-turned-ghoul eyed the wavering silhouettes of the wilds in the distance. If he was still in this wounded of a state when darkness fell—

He’d be a fuckin’ sittin’ duck.

Cooper sneers.

Nope, not an option. Didn’t matter how many bullets he’d have or how many he’d be able to take then. He knew when to make a move and when to wait out the storm. Literally. And mother Mary and all hells that hailed in-between—there would be a fuckin’ storm to be had.

—

The fiends you’d both encountered two nights ago had damn near carved his entire thigh down to bone with how deep their blade had dug. He’s lucky his flesh was kind enough to cling to him then. Not that he’d managed it alone. Of course you’d been there; calling him ‘grandpa’ and cursing reflexes of his you were convinced were slowing.

‘What would you’ve done without me?’ That sly fuckin’ smirk of yours was always tugging at your lips when you knew you’d had one over on him. It happened more than Cooper was willing to admit, and he’d only be willing to admit it when he was stone cold, turned over in his grave for the final time. At one point he had even toyed with the idea of you being the one to put him there.

But that was nothing more than a farce. A fairytale. Something to keep the loneliness lingering in the hearts of all who inhabited the surface, like Cooper, at bay.

A tale meant for ignorant children and self-righteous Vault dwellers.

Bitter to the bone and stubborn as a mule he was. He knew it, didn’t even try to deny it.

You’d put up with it for this long, hadn’t you?

It was then that he pictured you bound and writhing. Wounded temple still weeping because thick as you were, you’d gone and taken the brunt of a hit or two for him.

He told you to never stick your neck out for him—for anyone—ever.

Ever.

The look of betrayal in your eyes shouldn’t have even been a cause for pause, but he had. He’d fucking hesitated.

Canon fodder, Cooper’d said. As if words of that caliber were ever so simple. Easy.

It was like putting down a sick dog, in a way. At least that’s how he’d convinced himself of it—a mercy.

He hadn’t the heart to put the bullet in your head then, though. Not from the moment he’d laid eyes on you. Sickly little thing that you were. Starved and beaten, barely fit for exchange. Wrong end of a shit bargain he’d reckon. Not a surprise. He’d seen it before. You either found yourself strength in numbers in the Waste of became strong enough to cull the lot and likes around you.

Cooper had become the latter. Never was much of a team player, that one.

You on the other hand…

A knot twisted in his stomach.

Cooper would be lying to himself if he hadn’t asked himself and the higher powers above for that insight once or twice. Insight into how a sweet little thing, equally full of bark and bite, had landed yourself in Sorrel Bookers’ keeping.

Booker kept in line a gang of incompetents with little more prestige and skill than your average raider. The “Govermint” had considered you one of their assets at one point. Even his former associate Booker couldn’t be bid high enough on to elaborate. Cooper hadn’t pried into what had caused the tables to turn with you at the shit end of that stick. Not that you would have given him a real answer. He’d never been the type of man to give you one either.

All he knew was he had gotten his 200 caps worth. A small price to pay in the way of a break when it came to one of his bounties. You were sold to him like a dog—starting bid barely worth the sorry excuse for clothes on your back.

“This one’s worth more than fifty of her size and build. Only thing is she’s got a fuckin mouth on her. I’ll leave any ‘bodily modifications’ up to you though, Coop. Be warned, she bites.”

Booker had you bound and gagged in some shoddy storage room in one of his Govermint outfit stations. Your skin watercolored in bruises and superficial cuts in several stages of healing. Your eyebrow had been split sometime in the past day, knuckles bloodied and raw—no doubt a matching set to wounds some of Sorrels men now carried. Men Cooper had noticed lapping at their wounds and steeling away prides with swigs hooch on the way in.

Christ Almighty.

Cooper had remembered how precariously you’d eyed him as he’d stepped into view through the splintering door frame. He leaned in, unimpressed leer on his lips like always. You’d barely blinked as your gaze steadied on his. He thinks he remembers your eyes above all else from that day. Wide and dark, analyzing every movement of his. At one point it’d felt like a damned staring contest. Left the Ghoul feeling like he was the one being sized up and on trial. Not the other way around. You didn’t look afraid…didn’t show the faintest concept of repulsion towards him. You were fucking curious. Naive. A lost cause fallen into the very hands that would find themselves around your throat.

He should have put you out of your misery right then and there.

“I ain’t lookin’ for no pack mule, Booker.” Cooper had heard many a bargain in the way of women. Sorry souls caught up in even sorrier Wasteland body and labor exchange. He steered clear from these outfits for a reason. He wasn’t a good man by any means, but he also wasn’t without his own code of conduct.

“I’m in the business of one thing and so happens I’m in the middle of a job already.”

Cooper should have known he was signing onto some bad shit from the grimy grin Sorrel had given him then. He should have kept walking.

Sorrel Booker shoved you to your feet without a second though and puffed his chest out, hot-dogging you around like a god damn show pony.

“This one’s about to make yours a hell of a lot easier.”

Booker had even thrown in a free muzzle, for your troubles.

You had been a grim reminder for him of how dog-eat-dog worked in the Wasteland. Ghouls weren’t excluded from the order, either. Even a ghoul the likes of Cooper. Two centuries had come and gone with him and still he stood. Top of the food chain came with a price. You didn’t pay that price by makin’ friends. And you? Well, you’d been in debt it seemed; layin’ down with the dogs and here Cooper was washing you of your fleas.

That was four months ago now, give or take. You’d far repaid your caps in chems and vices alike in the first few weeks and here he’d left you alone: on an infested warehouse floor with fiends on both your heels.

Four months.

A fuckin’ eternity and a half for the smooth skins who survived it.

Cooper would know, but somehow it hadn’t been long enough for him to escape…this. These emotions.

You weren’t long for this world, darlin’, but Cooper Howard was. That’s just how it had to be. How it’d always been. Would be. Cooper Howard could be a sorry excuse for a man. It’s no wonder why the fates had designed it so that he no longer was one.

—

After circling the compound for what felt like decades the Ghoul settled own. Deciding to rest backed against a small alcove, right above a stoop of roof tiles obscured by fallen metal sheaths. A seasons worth of solidified sand stood to insulate either side of him from view.

It would have to do.

The suffocating humidity of falling rad-rain on the heated horizon began to kick up sheets of steam in the distance. Cooper lifted his gaze to view the turmoil brewing in the sky above. Dark matter overflowing with hues of vile greens and putrid yellows lurk uncomfortably close.

A tightness curled in his chest and clawed deep in his wretched depths. The Ghoul rummaged about his pack, makeshift atomizer gracing his fingertips. The little bubbled vial that sat atop was dangerously low on its contents. Empty vials clattered like wind chimes against his hip as he shoved them aside. The tepid yellow liquid sloshed and sputtered as Cooper drew in one deep breath.

It would have to do.

It would never be enough.

His lungs filled, expanded. Mind began to blur with days’ highs and lows…numbing them all. If just for a moment.

A moment.

Visions of soft doe-brown eyes and even softer curls crossed his vision.

‘Daddy, give the thumbs up, please! Just one more time.’ Janey’s toothy grin was faded in his memory, no longer near as sharp as the knife the thought alone wielded was.

Just one more time…

Cooper replayed the ghostly nudge of Roosevelt’s nose against his knee over coffee and a crisp morning paper.

The smell of Barb’s gardenia perfume wafting over a fresh cut cigar. Sunlight warms his skin through an open window. His wife’s freshly manicured nails tenderly teasing at his forearm. Lipstick staining his collar as she drew him nearer, arms wrapped around his waist to pull him closer—deeper.

The Ghoul tried his damnedest to remember the sound of their voices.

He bargains with what god cares to hear him.

Just a moment, please, one moment more.

Another voice barrels through the fog of his thoughts. The sands shift in the dunes overhead, metal creaking under a sudden shift in weight above.

“Times up, Coop.”

The heel of your boot slams against his temple, full weight knocking Cooper entirely sideway into the hardened walls of sand. He watches you shrug off your pack before he’s even able to draw on you. Quick little thing that you were.

A knee drives itself into his dominant shoulder, knocking his gun off trajectory and sending a stray bullet into the ground. Radroaches chitter and shriek somewhere in the dark abandon beneath you.

Your wild eyes meet his.

Gods of course you’d make it a fuckin’ ordeal.

You could never just go quietly, could you?

“You son of a—” He watches you lick your lips from above him. It’s picturesque.

Your bare knuckles connect against the sharp curves of his face: bone to flesh and back again. He feels the warmth seeping from your splitting skin and its apparent you’re not in the right mind too stop. Not that he wants you to.

Chems could only numb so much, and a kiss with a fist was better than none.

Cooper hisses when your knee finds itself bearing down on his injured thigh, other knee strewn diagonal to weigh down his shooting arm. You push away his weapon with little effort, hooking it on one of your belt loops as you straddle him roughly. Fingers find their way to his jaw as you observe him in slow like he had you. You slap at the Ghoul’s sunken cheeks, attempting to wake him from whatever daze had given you the element of surprise.

Cooper laughs and rolls his neck to ease the ache in his skull where you’d bludgeoned him.

“Little mutt,” He spits, smile betraying his venom. “They warned me you’d have some bite left in ya’.”

Your eyes dagger at his insult and Cooper notices the smirk about your lips evaporate. Cooper expects you to strike him. In all his months of knowing your true name he still reverted back to pet ones. Insults of ownership.

Instead he’s met with eyes that search his far longer and far deeper than he’d ever be fuckin’ comfortable with. He’s almost sure you catch his facade falter because you cock your head in thought just like he did when he noted something, and well—Cooper’s had just about enough of that.

He meets your weight with the tank that is his own. It was almost an insulting ease. Cooper towered over you in the sum of inches and pounds; muscles that had solidified over the course of two centuries. Nothing about him was soft any longer. Hadn’t been in a very long time. You knew this.

Your supple skin is heaven and hell beneath his hardened grasp. He flips your straddle with ease, shoving your legs between his, even in a wounded state. A gasp escapes your lungs as you orient yourself. He doesn’t even try to block your wrist when you snake it between the both of you; pitiful little pairing blade at his jugular like it’d do a damn thing.

One hand rests against the exposed length of your throat. His elbow buried deep in the soft connective tissue connecting your shoulder and upper arm as he pins it down. That ushers a whine from your lips.

Oh, What a burden it must be made of delicate living flesh, he muses to himself.

To feel like the consequences of your actions with every fiber of your being.

“Gonna’ come make good on yer’ threat there, darlin’?” He trails his free hand down the flare of your ribs, ghosting over your hip like a starved lover and then it settles: just over the barrel of his weapon you’d so kindly pocketed.

The flicker of a shadow dances in his peripheral, just behind the cover of a mound of sand.

Just a little closer.

Cooper scoffs as his gaze flickers down to yours.

“Or,” He cocks the gun against the warm sand. “you gonna’ make go through with mine?”

Cooper leans into the blade at his throat, drawing your chests closer together as he closes the distance between your beating hearts. He knows he’s won when your eyes linger on his lips for even a fraction of a second. The Ghoul smiles in his triumph, steadying the grip on his gun as the shadow teasing his vision shifts.

You tense.

He draws.

He feels you scream beneath him and it is of the things that shatter dreams.

If I’d been a better man…

The blade at his throat sinks in instinctively and the Ghoul couldn’t have blamed you even if he wanted to.

I’d be afraid of me too.

He grits his teeth and his free hand releases your throat.

Your breath heaves beneath him and you scramble out from under his weight when you realize the bullet not been meant for you.

The body of the fiend not more than five feet from the both of you slumps to the ground into a pile of its own brain matter.

You’re shaking. He sees it. Adrenaline pumping and confusion beginning to settle in—

What Cooper was not expecting, however, was the elbow that connected with his jaw just then.

Your elbow.

He lets out the smallest of surprised scoffs and licks at his lips.

Yeah, he’d deserved that too.

He’s almost proud of you.

“COOPER?!?!” The Ghoul watches as you scream your demand of him. Bewildered and shaken you stand. Doubled over—weighing your hands on your thighs to keep upright as the fight or flight leaves your body through bleary eyes.

Cooper takes its all.

Your hesitance, your rage—your indignance and your pain.

Turns and faces you like its nothing to him at all.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?”

There’s a hint of desperation on your tongue.

‘Just tell me, please.’ Cooper can almost hear you begging, but you won’t. Not here. Not like this.

He pulls the small blade from his throat, wincing with a flick of his chin as he throws it to the sands before you both. You pause and Cooper grimaces. He motions to the blade, signaling he wants you to pick it up. To Cooper’s surprise and utter fucking dismay, you do. Almost without a second thought.

He watches you tuck it into your pants pocket, diverting those ever watching eyes back to him. Like you saw something he couldn’t.

Why?

Why are you like this?

“Grab your shit.” He growls out. “We’re moving.”

You don’t move, though. You just stare. Doe-eyed like the fraudulent fawn you were.

“Git’!” He clicks his tongue in annoyance. Not at you, not entirely.

That lone fiend Cooper had shot down had been a scout and it was clear to him now that the others wouldn’t be far behind. Fiends usually never tracked their prey through the dunes for half near this long. Just both of your’s fuckin’ luck.

But you wouldn’t know that would you? How could you? Cooper protected you from far too much. Even things that would kill you.

Cooper could smell trouble brewing on the horizon closer than he’d been prepared for. Something wasn’t right and it was his job to figure out what. Even if it meant you resenting him for the time being. He’d been more comfortable with contempt anyway. It fit him like an old glove and embraced him like a familiar lover, no strings attached.

“I hate you.” There’s a resound defeat in your voice.

Cooper nods in slow, jaw clenched. He knows your tired. Sees it in your face and hears it in your voice. He’d spent all these months dragging you through the dessert with promises that never came and made you compromise on every value you held dear that he could. With no end in sight.

He’d just been selfish to let you go.

And you? You’d been too scared to leave.

Scared of what?, he constantly wondered.

What lay out there between the dunes and ruin that could possibly chase you back into the likes of the man like him…time and time again?

Your words echo in Cooper Howard’s thoughts.

‘Shoulda’ killed me when I was under, Coop’.’

Doesn’t he know it.

[pagesofkenna]

Components (2971 words) by KennaM

Characters: Lucy Frostblade, Kipperlilly Copperkettle

Additional Tags: Introspection, Character Study, The Mountains of Chaos, Goddesses, toxic yuri, Unresolved Tension, Unhealthy Relationships, A lot of character exploration happening in the negative space

Summary: • Locate Creature: the fur of a bloodhound • Sanctuary: a silver mirror • Divination: incense and an offering • Communion: incense and holy water • Ceremony, Atonement: 25gp of silver powder • Resurrection: a diamond worth 1000gp

hello, if you've been following along, this is what i’ve been pouring my soul into for two weeks!

Read on AO3

[bonesfool]

what is up my beautiful blueberries it is speckled band time

Here is the link to my draft of the Bloodhound episodes adapting the absolute classic that is The Adventure of the Speckled Band

My goal with this project is to meaningfully engage with and critique the elements of Doyle's writing that endorse British imperialism and the particularly insidious brand of Victorian white supremacy. Despite widely being considered one of the most classic Holmes stories, this one is absolutely rife many of the elements that modern audiences would consider deeply problematic, including the anti-Roma racism from several of the characters and the orientalist attitude towards India. My intentions with this were to critique and subvert these elements and also draw attention to the fact that Holmes and Watson are both white British men and this is very essential to understanding their worldview and the flaws it bestows upon their character, and so I have not entirely excised these parts from the narrative

All this to say, I am a white American, so I know that despite my best attempt to engage with this topic, I am sure there are things that could be changed or improved. I am looking for a sensitivity reader for this story in particular because of this, so if you or someone who know is Romanichal and interested in a paid gig please hmu

What is The Bloodhound?

Read previous stories here: Study in Scarlet Pt 1 and Pt 2/ The Gloria Scott

[asterdisaster06]

i absolutely LOVED the story where reader is called "hound". love the violence lmao. i was wondering if we could get more of that where reader tells them everything she did? sorry if this is weird✊😭

not weird at all, I always love hearing feedback :D

keeps me motivated-

i never really planned to expand on hound's character since I personally don't like reading OC stories and that specific story I invested the least in. ironic it's the most liked one of my stories.

i've started falling in love with that character though after hearing input like this though, so I would expect one of my next stories (whenever my studies let me have the time to write and post) involving bloodhound (:

[peckforlovingheck]

FHCD #200

you’re welcome btw bc this is a long one

She didn’t want to be honest with herself. Natalia and Jian had seen Aadiv talk with one of the victims. Her disbelief of how easily Aadiv could waltz out of their plan like that.

She looked over to Jian. He seemed shaken.

“…what?” She asks, frustration seeping into her tone. Nat thought Jian looked just as scared as the day she met him and Aadiv. They were all in the void, deleted, stripped from their lives.

Then, they found the truth. Why they were left there to rot. Why they were taken from their homes and families and friends. It filled Natalia with immense hatred. She had planned this whole sort of thing, telling Aadiv and Jian her idea.

After a good few months, they agreed and set the plan into motion. After all. They were the least liked. They didn’t get their happy endings. They had a cruel pantheon that controlled their every move in every universe. Their gods were unfair and they would be too.

Now, Natalia rolled her eyes. Aadiv already changed his mind and Jian was starting to as well. How could they give up so easily? Can’t they see that they were easily thrown away by everyone so others could be favored?

———

“Who’re you?” Ally asked. “My.. name is Dvir..” the person said slowly. He rubbed his throat, then letting the two see a reddish scar. “Augh. Stab wound? Come here.” Miguel said. Ally was horrified by how calm Miguel was about this.

“..What?” Miguel asked Ally, acknowledging her horror as he wrapped Dvir’s neck. Ally’s hand shakily pointed. “Oh. I see. The ones that those lunatics ‘killed’ were actually sent here. Much like how the three who keep causing these deaths were when they were first removed.” Miguel said.

“Removed…”

“There’s a council of gods and they are unfortunately the real people. They have their favorites and we are mere characters to them. The three that were killing people were only lashing out because they were removed from the game and left to die here.” Miguel said.

“..hm.” Dvir murmurs, rubbing his neck.

“How do we get back..?” Ally asked.

“well.. a few of the victims have been working on that. It’s quite easy, we are just waiting on everyone. I believe everyone is in now.” Miguel said.

“are you all healed now, Dvir?” Miguel then checked, looking over at him.

“..yes.”

“Alright. Let’s go.” He says, taking them both by the hand. It took a while to get there, but not in a horrible way. It was like a calm walk through a park.

There were some people walking through a large door. Most Ally didn’t recognize. One familiar face she noticed though.

she runs up and hugs Albert. “Augh-“ he says. “I’m glad to see you.”

Ally doesn’t say anything in worry that if she did, she’d start crying.

“Are we ready now?” Miguel asks.

People nod. “We’ve had some people who’ve not been killed that found out what’s going on and they’ve been relaying messages.” Someone says.

They walk through the door, landing softly on the grass. Someone stood by the group of people on the lawn.

“Welcome back, guys.” He murmurs. One of the people that was originally at the door walks up to him and just smiles.

“Alright. So. What now?” Ally asks.

“We’ve got a meeting spot. One of the three changed sides and has been giving us information. He says he thinks the other two will come for him in a few hours. We’ll meet him there.”

———

“They’ll be here. Eventually they will. I swear Natalia is like a bloodhound sometimes I-“

Jean-Claude interrupts Aadiv. “Okay but what happens next if we wait for them?”

“Well. Two things. Either… help comes like I’ve been told and they help apprehend Nat, Jian, and me, or.. they get here first and we die. Well.. not ‘die’ die. I’ve been over this.” Aadiv says.

his eyes widen as though an idea just came to him. “I’ve studied the code earlier. I think..” he looked over something. Jean-Claude looked as well.

“..if you three go back.. Every time we go in there.. our forms reset..?” Jean-Claude says.

“Precisely. I.. I know it’s not going to make up for what happened but it could be a reset for all of us before these whole events. If I do this right, I’ll be the only one to remember it and I’ll help them come back.. but no murder this time.” Aadiv explains.

“…That’s the best outcome I guess. I’m sorry you three were removed from the game.”

“…well. I guess we’ve done worse though. I can only wish you the best.” Aadiv says.

the two sit in silence, then Marley runs in. “I GOT A FLAME THROWER.” she yells. “Also Mason is gonna be over in a few minutes!”

“Wha.. why did you invite him?! There’s people that want you dead! It’s like you want your brother traumatized or something.” Aadiv says.

“If I die, I’d want to see my brother. I’d also want you two to reunite before so as well.” Marley reasoned.

Jean-Claude just shrugs.

———

“…ah yes. Secluded house in the middle of nowhere.” Mason murmurs and walks inside.

He sees three people in the living room.

“Marley??” He says and hugs her, then turning to see the other two. He runs over and hugs Aadiv. “Where have you been?!” He demands. “That’s a long story.” Aadiv said.

Mason turns to the blond guy. “…uh..”

“I’m Jean-Claude. Fellow former captive to your sister.” He says, extending a hand. Mason shakes his hand, letting those words sink in.

“..you what?” Mason turns to Marley. “There’s some people that want us dead but we can’t die because we’re not real. Try to keep up.” Marley explains.

There’s a knock on the door.

———

“..that’s a lot of people.” Marley murmurs. Aadiv opens the door and lets them in. He starts explaining his plan. Mason just looks dizzy with all the words and concepts. Marley’s face froze. “..you’re going to what?!”

“It’ll work.” Mason said.

Marley looked at him with utter confusion and disbelief.

“Aadiv knows what he’s talking about. When he’s sure his plans will work, he looks like that.” Mason said. “..and when this is over.. we’re making up for lost time.”

Aadiv smiled.

———

More discussion about the plan is held. The plan shifts as Aadiv realizes he could probably go alone. He says this. Multiple people all snap no at the same time.

“..He could though. He’s on the same level as them and they probably would be kinder to him than us.” Reza said. The group went silent.

“…We’re still not sending him alone. That’s just asking for them to turn against him. I’ll go too.” Mason said.

“Same here.” Jean-Claude nods.

Marley walked over to them. “It’s a given.”

“What if they get through you guys..? What if they straight up kill you? And then what?” Albert asks.

“We could defend the place. I think I should help for once..” Ally said.

“..for once? Ally, you’ve helped plenty.” Albert says. Ally doesn’t blink.

“Fine by me.” Marley smiled and handed a weapon to Ally then to the others.

———

They head out the front door and stand there. In the distance are two figures.

“…Aadiv, why must you be so foolish? You’ll just get casted out again. Everything would be taken away from you again.” Jian said. Natalia just looked furious.

Aadiv steps forward. “..I wish you guys would see that it’s not their faults. They thought we went missing. If we try to come back. If we try to be part of things again… it’d probably work.” He says.

Jian looked at him, a thankful smile. Natalia’s expression softened.

he pulls them into a hug. Neither seemed surprised when Aadiv sent a knife into either of their backs. There wasn’t even blood. They just disintegrated.

“…” Aadiv fell to the floor. “…I’ll see you guys soon.” He says, holding the knives.

———

with the world back to its state and everyone recovering and resetting, things were.. fine.

Maybe things would have been better if the three were back into the actual game. Maybe things would be better if we all didn’t have biases. Maybe I’m talking like a philosopher bc I’m being pretentious as hell. Who knows.

this has been the end of this story. Next headcanon will be regular ones.

also sorry marsbars I legit didn’t look at the picture since you sent it to me. Maybe I’ll pick up this series again at some point and add on more about the favoritism of characters idk lol.

[superman86to99]

Superman #90 (June 1994)

"THE BATTLE FOR METROPOLIS," Part 3! Things are BOOMING in Metropolis! Last issue ended with Lex Luthor (we can probably drop the "Jr." by now) remotely detonating a bomb right next to Superman and the badly injured Guardian. In this one we quickly find out that there have actually been several Lex-triggered explosions (Lexplosions, if you will) all across the city. Lex watches the mayhem from his yacht, maniacally shouting that if he has to die, he's taking the whole city with him.

Meanwhile, from the safety of his comfy office in Project Cadmus, wily ol' Director Westfield decides to take advantage of the chaos to get rid of those pesky Underworld clones once and for all. He secretly launches a series of missiles that spread deadly gas throughout the city's sewers, killing several peaceful Underworlders who were just chilling there (when he could have waited a few days for the Clone Plague to get them). Renegade geneticist Dabney Donovan, who has hidden cameras all over Cadmus, notices what Westfield is doing and doesn't like it, not because he's the Underworlders' "father" but because he wants to keep experimenting on them.

Meanwhile meanwhile, Superman takes the unconscious Guardian to Cadmus and bumps into Westfield, who rudely invites him to leave. Superman, who has never liked Westfield, lets him know as much and warns him that as soon as the current mess is over, he's letting everyone know exactly how much he sucks.

Westfield brushes him off and is like "No one will ever bring me down! I WILL LIVE FOREVER!" Then, while Superman is distracted dealing with one of those missiles, Dubbilex's telepathic powers suddenly pick up "a presence in Cadmus" he "hasn't felt in a very long time..."

That's right, you guessed it: it's freakin' Psi-Phon and Dreadnaught!

Wait, no, that was Dabney Donovan. And yes, he just murdered Paul "King of the World" Westfield with some poison gas. Official cause of death: irony. CONTINUED NEXT WEEK (or whenever we write that post) IN ADVENTURES OF SUPERMAN #513!

Character-Watch:

And that's the end of Director Westfield, who has been a pain in the ass since 1991's Superman #58. It says a lot that, unlike everyone else who dies at Cadmus, they've never brought this jerk back via cloning... or have they?! (Geoff Johns: "No, they haven't.") I'm not sorry to see him go, but I do think that his death makes certain future revelations regarding the character kinda anticlimactic.

Don Sparrow says: "Quite a fall for Westfield. In the Bloodhounds storyline he seemed like a tough, if flawed leader. But in this book he’s exactly as bad as Luthor." Yeah, he seemed like a somewhat reasonable authority figure until "Funeral for a Friend," when he started his slow descent into supervillain status. Maybe a more satisfying ending for him would have been turning him into an actual supervillain, perhaps via Dabney's ironic experiments... It's not too late to tell that tale, DC!

Plotline-Watch:

The best part of the issue is Superman saying he "almost hates" throwing one of those poison gas missiles into the stratosphere because "half the time I throw stuff into space it comes back even more dangerous!" We've been documenting that tradition for years, so that was satisfying to read. To my knowledge, that missile never became sentient and came back as "Missile-O" or something, but I could be wrong.

Superman tells Westfield that "cloning ruined my home planet." We saw that story (with sweet, sweet Mike Mignola art) in the World of Krypton miniseries.

Dabney Donovan says he wants to continue studying the Underworlders to "create new life that will survive the coming apocalypse." I'm not sure if by "apocalypse" he means this storyline or a... future one. Also, keyboard, multiple monitors, a big and probably expensive microphone -- is Dabney a Twitch streamer?

Westfield teases Superman because he can't be in multiple places at once, musing that maybe he'll create a being who can do that as his next experiment. So if he hadn't died, the next Cadmus creation would have been Madrox the Multiple Man.

Some impressively dumb Lex-Men chase Lois and shoot at her for "ripping off corporate secrets" (actually that tape of Lex killing his trainer from last issue). When she says they're making a big mistake, they laugh at her and one says "You ain't got a prayer, lady! Not unless you got yourself a guardian angel!" Are they... not from Metropolis? That would explain why one bothers trying to blast Superman "to smithereens" once he inevitably shows up.

After Superman takes care of those goons, Lois notices there's a camera in one of the helmets and uses the opportunity to tell Lex that he's screwed. He shouts: "NO! Who's her informant? Packard? Happersen? Or somebody else?" Lex, you've got exactly three recurring employees in this era. Come on, it's not that hard.

Patreon-Watch:

This post was brought to you by Aaron, Chris “Ace” Hendrix, britneyspearsatemyshorts, Patrick D. Ryall, Bheki Latha, Mark Syp, Ryan Bush, Raphael Fischer, Kit, Sam, Bol, and Gaetano Barreca, the Superman '86 to '99 Patreon Gang!

And also by everyone's pal Don Sparrow, who wrote the section after the jump...

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow):

We begin with a great cover, of an anguished Superman in the rubble of Metropolis.  I’m gonna assume that this is moments before Superman leapt into action, and helped all those people behind him with the recovery effort, but you gotta take a minute or two to grieve.  Joe Rubinstein is a legendary inker, to be sure, but his inks never fully jibed with Dan Jurgens pencils, it seems to me, and this cover shows a little bit of that.  The rim lighting on the arms going so far from the edge makes Superman look almost excessively lean/defined, but that’s only noticeable when you stare at it as long as I have.

Inside the book we have guest pencils from Brent Anderson, whose art can be hit or miss for me, over the years.  His Astro City stuff, for example, was terrific, like a modern Curt Swan, but at times, but in other instances—like this issue—there can be an unpleasantly rushed feel to his art.  The surface detail is always terrific, and Neal Adams-like, but sometimes his forms can go a bit wonky.  The very opening splash page is a good example of this. 

At first glance, this seems like a terrific page, a great montage of different things happening over Metropolis.  But then when you zoom in on both Guardian and Superman’s faces (particularly Guardian), things seem a little asymmetrical.  This is not to say that there aren’t some excellent moments—there are!  Page 5 has a great tall panel of Superman soaring into action.  Dabney Donovan is looking quite Dr. Robotnik-like as he surveys Westfield’s final solution for the Underworlders.  Page 12 unfortunately boasts another wonky Superman face, almost saved by the surface detailing.  The absolute weirdest Superman face appears a little later, during the guardian angel exchange, where Kal-El is looking like he sproinged off the pages of Mad Magazine.

There’s another good flying shot comes on page 17, where Superman darts out of a sewer pipe.   On the whole, a pretty inconsistent looking book, with backgrounds being a particularly weak point (apart from the extreme perspective shot of Metropolis early on). Story-wise, not a ton happens, apart from Superman zig-zagging to and from disasters, though we do get a little movement on the clone illness (that Guardian is apparently immune) and a recap of last week, revealing that Lois has damning evidence against Luthor.

STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

Lex’s soldiers are pretty sexist, in addition to being willing murderers.  How does a guy list when hiring for that position?

Funny note as Superman launches the poison gas missile into space, as he muses “half the time I throw stuff into space, it comes back even more dangerous.”  Certainly true of the Eradicator, but I’m trying to think of other examples.  [Max: Off the top of my head, there's the time he threw that living cemetery into space and it turned into a murder cloud, the time he left a lab suspended in orbit and it eventually spawned the Cyborg Superman (who did his own space-tossing with Doomsday), and, hmmm, does the time he threw himself into space and came back with a deadly artifact count?]

Very Obi-Wan-like reaction from Dubbilex, as he senses Dabney Donovan’s presence.  I always thought that Donovan was somewhere nearby as it was, so it’s odd that Dubbilex would only now sense his brainwaves.

How does the gas hurt Westfield to the point that he’s choking blood, but not at all affect the maskless Donovan? [Max: Maybe he was a poison gas-immune Dabney clone who only thought he was the "one and only"?]