#revenant drabble

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Spillways of your soul

[Revenant!Jazz content to celebrate 300 followers!]

protect. danny. protect. danny.

around and around the same words spun in the cesspool of their brain, rotted, decayed as it was- they weren't alive-alive...not the same as the humans that they avoided, a itch at their skull- grey matter. (scratch scratch scratch) (too much and they'll lose their skull!) (who was they?) (words were hard.) bone teeth, sharp (bite and tear flesh) fangs, eye sockets brusied (should be empty) where human had hit. too slow to move. maybe had not enough to care. They did not care.

(who was they?) They were of former human skin and bone- ash and fire and green the colors left in death and shambles of corpse-hood. too many words in throat, pain in chest when speak. try not to with leftover language in grey matter.

They shambled along street after street, sun high and sun low- sun gone too. Moon was picky about light shed, but they could see well in shadow and murky ick. Got-ham, pricky, icky on their tongue, parted its shadows for them. Like friend.

(friend.) (they knew that word) (but that word hurt)

protect danny. danny was...danny? They had no other words for DANNY. no words they would use- not the ones they used the most.

(kill. dodge. aim. fire.) (BAT. hood. bird.) (threat. not-threat.) (dead. alive.)

shamble-shamble was what they did, fire metal into skin of threats to DaNNy, again. again kill threats as DANny human-shambled in a not-human skin.

(danny was dead. not-dead?) (scratch scratch scratch) dANny never human-shambled too close to them. they kept away. humans kept away from DANNY right?

they were not human-human though. only human shaped. did it count?

(scratch)

humans called them KILLER-MURDERER-hero. they could hear the words but did not understand- they were to protect DANNY.

KILLER-MURDERER stayed but they did notice the hero word fade away. they did not focus on it too much.

KIlleR-mUrDErER became ROGUE-VILLIAN-reaper.

loud, loud the words were- not too loud the firing metal did not drown them out. BAT called them reaper, no REAPER with anger and- they did not understand.

(not their name) (who were they to have a name?) (scratch scratch) decayed cesspool of a brain- REAPER was a word they did not understand but would answer to regardless. it was something that was theirs that was ALIVE and not rotten. or half-dead.

(scratch scratch scratch)

BAT was too shadow, too murk, too Got-ham for they to understand either. did that make them same? no. BAT was human-human. not just human-shaped. protect. danny. (scratch scratch goes the grey matter.)

====================

A/N: This is very much a drabble. A practice concept for a character with limited mental capacity in a paranormal setting with no way of defining themselves in a clear or concise manner. This is Jazz post-reanimation and pre-rogue massacre. She's just begun to place emphasis on certain "words" (people, places, things) and that's what I want to reflect in The Revenant AU. All capitalized words like "BAT" are meant to be Jazz placing emphasis on the word as important, but she doesn't know/understand why its important.

Danny's name being mixed up is also supposed to be important too. Jazz doesn't understand why danny is important, but down in her bones she knows, so her brain keeps trying to put importance on his name. Yes, this is full of mistakes for REASONS. (And also, its a drabble, not a full-fledged fic. I can cringe about it later, as in after its been read later.)

Thanks for reading!

[fatestouch]

“Hm... no, this simply won’t work.” With a sigh, Basile sets his clipboard to the side with a sigh, looking down at his latest experiment. A near flawless specimen of a corpse... near being the key word.

Unfortunately, this particular person had died by way of some kind of accident with a poison. A rather potent one at that, and Basile couldn’t work with a tainted corpse. Not for this one.

“Does it really ruin things that much?” Sylvain tilted his head, taking the clipboard when it was handed to him, glancing briefly at it. “Does poison effect a corpse hat much?”

“For fresher ones like this one, yes.” A sigh. “And without a way to detox this specimen of the poison, I may have to find another.”

“You rang~?”

Basile shrieked, and even Sylvain jumped a bit at the sound of Morgan’s voice. The witch had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and upside down above the body, in fact. The reactions got a jovial laugh out of Morgan, which didn’t stop for a while, even as she caught the scalpel that was thrown at her between her fingers.

“Morgan Lancaster, don’t you do that! Honestly, you can be just as bad as your cousin... how did you even get in here? My lab is warded against any teleportation spells.”

“Never question my methods, only know that I go where I want~” With another giggle, Morgan flipped and lanced gracefully next to Sylvain, not a hair out of place, and handed the scalpel to Basile. “But, I thought I would offer my assistance! To your little poison problem, that is.”

Sylvain raised an eyebrow. “Your magic works even on corpses?”

“The Saint-Yves bloodline magic is quite strong, as I’m still finding out~. So? As an apology for the little fright, allow me to assist~”

“‘Little fright’, she says... incroyable.” A A sigh. “Well, who am I to turn down free help... but be careful, I don’t want you damaging the veins by going too fast.”

[demonwriterx]

“Book”

He arrived on Gaea for a personal visit to Ash's facility.

Two times a month, he fights training robots and practices his markmanship in her arenas while she watches and provides him with critiques and observations to improve his skills. Initially, he ignored her, only using her for access to her arenas to satisfy his own insatiable bloodlust. Until she fought him one on one. It was then that he realized he had more to learn from hand-to-hand combat. Ash offered him more of a challenge. Because they were simulacrums, they had unlimited endurance, so she could keep up with him. He would spend the whole day and night training with her before growing bored and deciding he had enough before, eventually, returning.

He had visited her for almost six months, and as she observed him, he observed her. He quickly noticed certain...quirks. If she wasn't practicing with him, she would be in her lab pulling up dozens of videos and documents of notes. She would be analyzing and re-analyzing data from their past combat or recent Apex matches. She rarely stopped. It was as if she was a machine. He chuckled at his own analogy but it was the only thing close enough to describing her habits. And if she stopped, her "other" would surface. It was small things, a slight touch to her temple or a rapid twitch of her head. He actually stumbled upon her muttering to herself at one point. He thought it was amusing.

Revenant silently walked through the long corridor before entering her private lab. On one wall, there was a red, dusty couch and a side table. In front of the couch was a coffee table with papers and files scattered. On the opposite side of the room, she had her monitors, decorating the large space. He usually finds her typing away as she writes down data and codes. Today, the lab was empty. It didn't concern him too much. He knew she had gone to the arenas. He had seen her there before, and once she starts, it will be hours until she returns to the lab. He walked to her monitor and looked down at her keyboard. He pressed down on the spacebar and a live video appeared instantly. He released a heavy sigh before muttering a curse. He was correct. She was in the middle of a training match. She didn't know about his visit. Or any of his visits. He came in whenever he pleased and Ash never gave him her personal number. But he never asked. And she did the same for him.

He looked back at the couch and decided to wait for her. He took a seat, immediately taking out his communication pad to delete a large array of requests for his services. He propped his elbow up on the arm rest, and accidently brushed against something solid, knocking it off the table. He heard the thud next to his foot and his eyes glanced down, making no effort to pick it up until he saw it was a book, the back had a yellow sticky note and written in black ink was "Property of Ash". He reached down and picked it up. He saw that the book was old, with yellowing pages. He could tell it had been read many times over, the spine was worn and the pages were slightly torn at the corners. He turned the book, reading the title aloud to himself.

"Under the Solace Sun...huh?" He opened the book and his eyes immediately widened. It was a romance book. He had never seen Ash read a book like this. He thought it would be something boring. He snickered, shaking his head at the thought of her reading the book in her free time. He was about to close it when he noticed a handful of bookmarks placed in certain sections of the pages. He opened one section of the bookmarks and read the page the bookmark was attached to. "And he gently laid her against the hot sand, unable to hold back his passion as he removed his-what?...Their lips found their way to-!" He immediately realized that the bookmarks were all in the love scenes. He stifled his laughter with one hand as he flipped to another bookmark, curious to see what else she had saved for her reading pleasure. He grinned to himself as he flipped through each bookmark, knowing Ash had to save each scene and as he read, his laughter grew.

He was enthralled in another chapter when Ash returned from the arenas. She had heard the laughter echoing down her corrido. She walked in, calling out, "Revenant? What on earth are you laughing-AH!"

Ash shrieked in horror as she walked in and saw him holding her book. Her pet rat flew out of her hood, startled from her sudden scream, scurring to its hole. Revenant looked up from the book and waved it at her.

"Is this what you do in your free time, Miss Perfect? Heh!"

She quickly ran over to him, trying to snatch it from his hands. "Give me that!" She exclaimed. Imagining what her face would have looked like if she had been human, he pictured a red face. He chuckled and held the item out of her reach. Her hands desperatly clawed towards the book.

"Now hold on, I'm in a real good part. Monica is about to choose if she wants John or Michello, hahaha!"

"Return that to me at once!"

He pushed her back, getting up from the couch. She lunged at him again but he managed to hold her back with his arm. He opened the book again and began to read it out loud to her.

"And as she looked at the two men she had loved, she felt her heart yearn for-"

"Stop!"

"Her one true love, the one who filled her with the most passion and warmth- hahaha! Oh! This is good!"

"Enough!" She snatched the book from his hands, throwing it against the couch. "Get out!"

"Now hold on..."He began, trying to stifle his laughter. "I..I got to know... which part was your favorite?"

"GeT OuT, NoW!"

"Because I really liked pg 62!" He released another roar of laughter, causing her to shove him out of her lab.

"Leave! Get out!"

He was forcefully kicked out of her facility. But for the next few weeks, whenever they played in the Apex Games together, he whispered lines from the book under his breath. Only loud enough for Ash to hear before she became flustered.

[pin-k-ink]

another daddy hoshina and pregnant reader drabble. i can’t get enough of this man 😩

The sight of you drowsing amidst the rumpled sheets, rounded with the swell of his child, made Hoshina’s morning wood throb insistently against his boxers.

He drank in every lush, soft detail as you slept on obliviously - the way his oversized shirt had ridden up to expose the vee of your thighs, engorged nipples straining against the thin cotton. Tousled strands of hair fanned across the pillow, framing those kiss-bruised lips he knew from experience would soon be parting on a breathy moan of his name once you woke up.

Unable to resist any longer, Hoshina padded towards the bed on bare feet. He sank down on the edge, calloused palm skimming along the curve of your bare calf before gliding higher. Further up to trace the swell of your knee, the impossibly soft skin behind your thigh, until his fingertips teased along the cinched hem riding up your ass.

A shuddering sigh slipped past your parted lips, back arching ever so slightly into Hoshina’s caress. He felt his cock jump eagerly at the response, molten need swirling hotly through his belly. This close, he could make out the fine sheen of exertion still clinging to your body in a dewy sheen - lingering evidence of last night's little fuckfest that had made you both pass out sometime after the ninth round.

Hoshina had to grit his teeth to resist palming himself through the tented cotton at the memories alone...

Of him pinning your squirming, whimpering form into the mattress from behind, thick cock spearing in deep on every ruthless thrust. The breathless cries spilling from your lips as he rutted against you with dominant, mind-numbing intensity. Your hair had stuck to the sweaty expanse of your back and shoulders, thick ropes of it knotting in Hoshina’s fists as he used the leverage to pound you open obscenely wide around his girth.

He recalled the harsh growls and snarls rumbling from his chest with every punishing grind, the desperate, keening wails you tried muffling against the crumpled sheets to no avail. How your nails had scoured deep, bleeding crescents down his bulging forearms as Hoshina stuffed you absolutely full of his cum over and over, thoroughly ruining you for anyone else's inadequate efforts.

And when his orgasm finally crested in a blinding rush, Hoshina had smothered your sobbing gasps with the crush of his lips. You'd trembled and jerked with each convulsion, every pulsing, thunderous release of his thick ropes painting your walls in scorching bursts all the way to your very womb...

Hoshina shuddered as if electrified by the memories, heavy stare devouring you sprawled in naked, post-coital abandon. Throwing caution to the wind, he slowly leaned over your slumbering form, drinking in the clean, musky scent of your sex mingling with his unmistakable masculine musk in a dizzying, intoxicating fusion.

He nosed aside the tousled curtain of hair to expose the delicate slope of your throat and jaw, watching in rapt fascination as your pulse fluttered weakly beneath the thin, sheened skin. Plush lips parted ever so slightly around each deep, even exhale fanning hotly over Hoshina’s bared chest and abdomen as he hovered on all fours caging you in.

Unable to resist a moment longer, Hoshina ducked to brush the barest wisp of a kiss against your exposed temple, dragging his stubbled jaw down the curve of your cheek. His free hand skated back along the sumptuous swell of your pregnant belly in a featherlight, revenant caress, feeling the taut skin stretch beneath his roving palm.

"Still getting used to having my gorgeous girl all round, and swollen up ripe with my kid..." he husked against the fragile whorls of your ear, coarse timbre choked with quiet awe. "Like you were made for nothing else except taking and keeping my seed buried deep inside that greedy little cunt..."

Your slumbering form shivered beneath him and Hoshina smirked against your nape as he felt the first telltale stirrings of arousal blooming between your thighs. He wedged one thick, muscular thigh between yours insistently, grinding his rapidly stiffening cock into the lush swell of your ass with a low, feral rumble.

"Gonna wake up all needy and soaked through for Daddy again, aren't you baby girl?" The raw, guttural words dripped straight from Hoshina’s psyche without preamble, barely filtered through conscious filters. "God, I fucking love seeing you in this state, so ripe and overflowing with my cum. Bet that greedy cunt is throbbing for relief after our fun last night..."

One huge palm burned a scorching trail up the dip of your spine, tracing the knobs of each vertebra until he could cup the sleek curve of your nape firmly. Hoshina plastered himself flush against your side, rocking into the cradle of your shapely thighs with delicious friction building between each ponderous grind.

"Soon as I get a taste I'll have you screaming beneath me again," he promised in a molten growl that seemed to melt straight into your slick, awakening folds below. "Gonna spear you wide around my cock until you're choking on my name, filling you up properly for good this time..."

Just as the deliriously filthy promise tumbled past Hoshina’s lips, you stirred beneath him with a soft, mewling whimper. He immediately stilled his insistent rutting, eager to see those heavy lashes fluttering apart to reveal your lovely, unfocused eyes blinking up at him in hazy bewilderment.

For a protracted beat, you simply blinked and took in the tantalizing vision of Hoshina’s sculpted torso hovering mere inches above you. Lips parting reflexively to drink in the musky, intoxicating fusion of your mingled scents saturating the sweat-damp sheets. Then your gaze drifted lower, widening fractionally as you registered the insistent ridge of his cock tenting the front of those flimsy boxers so deliciously.

"Mmm...Soshiro..." you breathed out in a barely-audible rasp, voice still thickened by the dregs of lingering sleep. "What're you...?"

The inquiry trailed off into another trembling whimper as he rolled his hips with purposeful emphasis. You felt the blunt, heavy length of him drag along your satin folds in a torturous stroke, stoking sparks of need to reawaken in your belly.

"Just admiring the view, sweetheart," Hoshina husked against the velvet expanse of your throat. He punctuated the words with a scorching flick of his tongue, tasting the rapidly fluttering throb pulsing beneath your skin. "My gorgeous baby mama splayed out and practically begging to be stuffed full again..."

You shuddered as the rough timbre of his gravelly desire scraped over your sensitized nerve endings. Unconsciously, your thighs parted wider in a silent entreaty as fresh slick flooded your neglected pussy in anticipation. Hoshina clearly noticed the subtle invitation if his low, triumphant growl was any indication.

In one fluid motion, he hooked your legs over his hips and shifted until the thick, heavy line of his cock nestled snugly against your weeping slit. You gasped sharply at the sudden, delicious pressure, back arching instinctively as need lanced straight through your core.

"Yes..." Hoshiro purred in grave approval, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the fragile column of your neck. "That's my sweet girl, responding so prettily to Daddy's touch already..."

You could only whine in fervent agreement, overwhelmed by the slow, indolent grind of his hips working his rigid length through your slick pussy. The delicious friction built swiftly into an intoxicating glide, fanning your simmering arousal into a bonfire that threatened to consume you both in its raging.

Just when you thought the smoldering tension might liquefy your bones, Hoshina suddenly angled his thrusts higher, raking the swollen head of his cock against your engorged clit. You cried out in a mixture of shock and blinding ecstasy, nails scoring his shoulders reflexively as you arched and writhed beneath him.

"There it is," he growled approvingly, drinking in every micro-expression of rapture crumpling your features with slavish rapture. "Let Daddy take care of his needy baby mama and give that hungry little cunt exactly what it craves..."

With that guttural purr of reassurance still echoing in your ears, Hoshiro sealed his mouth over yours in a searing, demanding kiss. You surrendered to the possessive brand without hesitation, every nerve ending alight and humming in supplication as he thoroughly mapped and plundered. Sharp teeth grazed your lower lip in a stinging rebuke until you yielded completely with a moan, legs splaying wantonly as he plunged forward in a single, brutal stroke.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Kira’s Masterlist

Mafia Trilogy, Mortal Kombat, Invincible, D.C., Marvel, The Hunger Games, House of Ashes, Slashers, Apex, Overwatch, TWDG, StarWars, Borderlands,..to be continued

Mafia Trilogy

Members Yandere types

Tommy Angelo

How many kids would he have?

Paulie Lombardo

¡Yandere! Paulie protects you

How many kids would he have?

How would he be as a dad?

Sam Trapani

¡Yandere!Sam getting rid of your admirer

Bonus pt.2^

Yandere alphabet-ABIJ

Yandere fluff

How many kids would he have?

How would he be as a dad?

Vito Scaletta

Dad Scaletta

Time traveler reader

Time traveler pt.2

Yandere Alphabet

Mortal Kombat 1, 11, and X

Mk11 and 1 w/ low emotional intelligence darling

Mk11 Yandere sub-zero and scorpion

Yandere MK11 harem x reader

Yandere MK11 harem pt.2

revenant harem w/ queen darling

Fluffy Kira’s favorites with a clingy s/o

Yandere Johnny,Lao and Erron with a darling in a wedding dress

Kung Lao

General Yandere headcannons

Comforts you from somniphobia/noctophobia

Erron Black

He kidnaps you

masochist drabble

Johnny Cage

Platonic yandere with a young star

Yandere Alphabet

Yandere Johnny w/ singer! S/O

Kenshi

yandere kenshi who is obsessed w/ your touch

Raiden

Yandere Raiden take cares of sick darling

Yandere Raiden with disabled darling

Yandere Raiden sleepwatches you

Yandere Raiden harem

Baraka

Soft yandere drabbles

Mark Grayson

Yan! Mark grayson gets jealous over your friends

Pure crack- Yan! Mark grayson w/ batsis

DC

platonic yan! batboys reacting to you dating

Mark Grayson w/batsis (crackkkk)

platonic yan! jason x dick x batsis

Weaponized incompetence discussion post

Yan! Platonic! Jason and Dick w/ understanding batsis darling

Jason Todd

Platonic !yan¡ Jason w/ batsis darling

Platonic yan! Jason w/batsis that died by the joker with him

Platonic yan! Jason’s reaction to you dying and coming back

Dick Grayson

Platonic !yan! Dick w/ batsis darling

discussion post ^

Platonic!yan! Dick w/ bullied batsis

Romantic!yan! Dick w/baby trapped darling

Romantic! Yan! Dick kissing Drabble

Batsis reacts to cheating dick Grayson platonic yan!

Discussion post^^

Tim Drake

platonic!yan! Tim w/ batsis reader

Bruce Wayne

Platonic Yan! Bruce w/ robin darling

Marvel

TASM! Peter Parker

TM! Peter Parker

[scaryman-fancam]

REVENANT X READER ANGST DRABBLE - tw: talk of death, death, detailed fear of sudden death, grief

It’s a quiet evening in the little apartment.

He had no need for a place to rest at night, or at all. The place was rented specifically as a way to know where you were. He liked knowing you were safe in a little place he’d picked personally. Having control gave him some sort of reassurance that you’d be alright while he was away, because it was his home, his bed, his things keeping you cozy and warm.

You’re curled around his waist. He drags the metal of his fingertips across the screen in his hands, clearing jobs off of his list. Ones that had kept him away for months at a time. He tilts his head slightly every few minutes in between logging details of each hit, optics flicking to you, checking on you, casting a small, momentary spotlight on you in the slow dimming of the room as the sun dipped behind the other buildings in the city.

He was the literal mechanical grim reaper. Death was his job, his medium. A grisly artist who left carcasses as canvases, signed with a special brutality reserved for those unfortunate enough to end up in his job queue. He was all too familiar with death. He had died again and again, numb to the darkness that exists in-between each new vessel. Numb to the cold and the pain of the metallic husk collapsing in on itself, of the burn in his chest when the motors and circuits whirr to a painfully slow end, suffocating as his systems shut down.

Then he wakes up again.

Death was nothing to him. Thousands at his hands, thousands of his own. Thousands more simulated in the games.

It had you wondering.

Life was dangerous. Living is dangerous. Something could happen at any given moment. Hell, Wraith had told you that something HAS happened at any moment across different universes. If you could imagine it, it’s happened.

She’d warned you that in many universes, Revenant was your way out. Had your first meeting gone any differently, perhaps in a universe where he didn’t truly know his own strength. One where he was still a human, and you were one of his last hits before dying for the first time.

You’ve thought about it. Stressed about it. But has he?

It itches at the back of your brain for months. Brewing viciously and boiling your entire being along with it, mindlessly moving and writhing as the denied fear tries to look for a scrap, something to feed it and let it fester, something to let it root in the back of your mind—

“What’s got you squirming?”

His rough voice breaks your train of thought. You still, blinking up at him, his eyes already trained on yours, his tablet set aside. He’d been watching for a while.

“What’ll happen when I die?”

The first words that come out of your mouth. You know the answer. He’d told you many times when he was haunted by the thousands of deaths he was forced to endure.

He scoffs, like it’s irrational, “You won’t know you’re dead. You’ll know that you’re dying, but you won’t know when it’s settled in, like falling asleep.”

It’s supposed to settle you, the way he spares you of the worst of it. You can’t decide if it works. You must’ve been too quiet too long for his liking, so he pokes your forehead.

“What else is happening in that pretty little head of yours?”

It almost makes you smile. That sarcastic and playful streak trying to warm the fear bitten part of you.

“What will you do when I die?”

He stops. He’s quiet for a long time. It’s a question he too has wondered about. He’s numb to the concept, death is tangible, yes, he’s seen a light go out a million times, burnt bulbs to never be replaced, but he can’t help the twinge of discomfort of not being able to stop death. He can control the way they go. Cut short and quick, or painful, slowly draining the life. He can’t prevent death.

He’s a killing machine. Not made for healing, not made for care, tenderness and love. Everything he does is rough, it’s harsh, unforgiving. If you fear death, he wonders, why are you with him? It makes him uncomfortably angry at himself. Something soft and weak offers itself to him, equipped with claws and blood in every groove of his mechanical being. Makes his hands itch, even now when he longs to be gentle, he wants to lash out in anger at the way fate has left him as a monster.

He’s lived for hundreds as a monster, and he’ll live for hundreds more as one. Wishing he were gentle for just one night to truly indulge in the fragility of your being does not reverse it. He will remain a monster, long after you are gone. Unchanged.

“Knowing you, you’ll probably have earned it,” he decides, folding his arms. No room for argument as he scoffs, “Asking questions like that, always so fearful. The world out there will eat you up,” his voice dropping to a low rumble before he laughs, the grating mechanical sound hopefully distorted enough to hide the shimmer of weakness. The long forgotten phantom ache on the outer corners of his eyes, the burn that follows after, invisible heat rimming the shiny water lines. He bows before no other, but secretly he thanks a higher being that he is no longer flesh, that you cannot see the ghost of how he feels.

It eases you, his sadistic sarcasm, somehow. This master of death speaks to you as if it is no big deal. So maybe it isn’t.

“Thanks Rev,” the words are soft and reassured, and he leans down to bury his cold face into the side of yours, “keep me warm,” he mutters, grunting as he repositions himself, ignoring the way you squirm and try to push away the frigid metal with annoyed huffs and giggles.

The lights are off, the curtains drawn. You’d leave all the lights on, your eyes weren’t like his: artificial and equipped with night vision. He wanders the place at all times when he isn’t busy, not bothering to change vessels or clean the viscera away when he gets home.

You used to complain about the blood crusted footprints he’d leave on the rug. So he simply stays off of it now.

He traces the damage you’d left in the place as well. Chipped paint from tripping over the coffee table and into the wall. A coffee stain on the white marble counter that just wouldn’t go away. He’s certain he could get rid of it now, but he’s not sure if he can.

Revenant finds himself with his face to the wall. In the couch cushions. Even limp with his head in the empty washing machine, searching for traces of your scent. He’s done this routine enough to know that there’s nothing left. He’d greedily breathed in every trace of your presence in the first few months.

It doesn’t stop him from checking.

There’s a dirty cup in the sink. He holds it in his hand, mimicking you, the clink of his metal lips to the ceramic, following your motions, fruitlessly putting his lips to where yours once were. He wishes he had a tongue, so he could check the silverware for just a taste of you left.

The bedroom is the worst.

He avoids it when he can.

But it’s been a rough day. A rough week. A month, a year. Maybe longer?

It’s going to be a rough forever.

Slipping into the room with the grace of a zombie. It’s been a good couple hundred years since he’s felt exhaustion, but the constant burning around his optics has warn him thin. At the bed, he finds himself curling up in the divot of where you used to lay. The mattress hasn’t been used properly in a decade already, and he knows the hollow has changed its shape. It’s not truly yours anymore, his heavy form wearing the foam down further. He regrets lying in it, damaging the relic of your residence, but starvation leaves a dog desperate.

His legs tucked to his chest, arms binding them in place, head tucked between his knees. Fetal position, though he wishes fate would miscarry him this one time.

He’ll pretend that he is rotting, already with you. He’ll never die. They’ll make more of him for as long as they can.

But for now he’ll keep his consciousness in this one. He died the same day as you, his heart ripped from the otherwise hollow chassis of his being. The slow burn of the death of his circuits the only comfort, dreaming that one night it will be the final time.

[freaknerd33]

what are your thoughts on revenant making the first move? Would he or would he stay silent?

Ooh i may need to think some more about this! my thoughts here are a bit short so im thinking i’ll write a drabble or oneshot of how things could possibly go.

- He would definitely not make the first move.

- This boy…

- You’d have to get it out of him somehow. Nothing he does makes it obvious he likes you so you’re really just taking a shot in the dark and hoping that since you like him he likes you back.

- Perhaps there’s certain ways you try and find some basis in your wishful thinking.

- You tease him, flirt maybe. Something with romantic intent that may knock him off his usual persona.

- Maybe if you try hard enough or say the right thing you’ll successfully fluster him. That would be incredibly hard to do though. Nearly impossible…

- It might be best to just carefully observe him. He may tell on himself if you watch close enough.

- Subtle actions that wouldn’t be made for anyone else. Especially while you’re teamed up in the games. Nothing too obvious, but actions that when you look back on them, his behavior seems slightly different than it usually does.

- Like maybe when he leads, there’s a bit of a protective air to him. Or maybe mid battle, you see him stealing glances at you as if he’s checking on you.

- You’re also the only person he’s okay with standing so close next to him. That could mean something?

- You’d just really have to find a way into his mind. He’s not easy to catch slipping.

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

DPxDC idea: same premise as the fics where Jazz is in Gotham with a deaged Danny, and ends up dating Jason, but instead it's Jazz who's deaged and Danny ends up dating Cass

That’s a good one actually!

With my Revenant!Jazz drabbling, I’ve been thinking about Cass and how she’s portrayed in fanfiction.

“Spillways of your soul” (my posted Revenant!Jazz Drabble) is somewhere along the line of what I’m thinking for Cass. Not a lot of dialogue, more introspection and inner commentary.

I’ll tuck this one away for the future though! Thanks!

[sasslett]

A Night Beneath the Stars

I got to borrow Rowan from @tallbluelady for my FFXIVSwap partner, and so I made her a lil' drabble and some gpose to go along!

“Pray tell, where dost thou intend to go?”

Rowan merely flashed Urianger a grin, gently grasping his hand and tugging him towards Revenant’s Toll’s aetheryte. 

“You shall see soon enough.” Raising her palm, she channeled her aether, feeling for her destination, a place beyond mortal means, yet familiar all the same. In a flash, the two were gone, their feet hitting solid ground once more upon the white-carved platform of Zenith. 

“The abode of the great wyrm Hraesvelgr…” 

Of course, she hadn’t been surprised that Urianger knew where they were - well, not terribly surprised, for the gods themselves knew the man was nothing short of a mystery, even to her. 

Yet, she loved him all the same. 

She turned to see him staring at the great, white spire in awe, shining in the light of the moon above. But it wasn’t the architecture - nor the great wyrm - for which she’d brought him there that eve. 

“This way.” His hand still safely tucked away in hers, she gently tugged him down the aged, broken steps, away from the aetheryte and through the ruins dotting the landscape, until she reached her destination - the very edge of the land, nothing but clouds beneath and stars above. 

“Look at them,” she murmured in wonder, plopping herself down on the ground - for there was nowhere else in all of Eorzea that rivaled the view of the heavens, each star twinkling so bright, she felt she could almost lift her hand and caress them. 

“A brilliant sight to behold,” Urianger agreed, settling himself down beside her. “Recognize thou the constellations?” 

Slowly, she nodded, her eyes flickering across the sky - admittedly, she was quite inexperienced in the ways of astrology, thus far, yet there were a few clusters which stood out in her memory. 

“That one,” she pointed above, “that is Nymeia, is it not?” 

“Indeed. The goddess of fate, ever watching. And see you Althyk beside?” Urianger motioned above, Rowan’s eyes moving to trace the familiar sigil in the sky. “Her dearest brother, guardian of space and time. Yet thou knowest full well the wisdom of astrology relieth not upon the guidance of the Twelve, but the gifts they have given to the star. To wit, recalleth the Bole - planted by Nophica, raised by Althyk in all their wisdom, to which giveth life to the star.”

This, she knew, of course - the earliest of her astrology lessons, the foundation upon which it was built - yet she was content to let him speak regardless, tilting her head as he continued on, studying his handsome features, illuminated only by the moon above… So lost had she been in his beauty that she’d scarce noticed he’d concluded his tale; only when he cleared his throat did she shake herself from her stupor, meeting his golden-eyed gaze to find him grinning softly at her. 

“Yet, for all their beauty and wisdom,” he murmured, reaching up to gently wrap his hand around the back of her neck, pulling her close, “their brilliance pales in comparison to that of thine, my fabled Warrior of Light. For even in the darkest of nights, thine light shines in my heart without equal, and so shall it always, for the rest of my waking days.”

[sallysavestheday]

Friday Favorites (21 June 2024)

A lovely range of deliciousness this week:

sisyphus, unhappy (M: 12K, WIP) by @tobermoriansass. Post-Return Curufinrod, and the first 4 tags are Accidental Marriage, Existentialism, Heresy, and Infidelity. Plus snooty Maglor and musical theory. What's not to love??

to sleep, perchance to dream (G: 2K) by @a-tehta. Glorfindel during the Fall of Gondolin. Ouch. Not the usual lighthearted G of this series, and still excellent.

revenant (T: 6K) by @welcomingdisaster. Maedhros and Nerdanel, after he returns. Destroys me every time I read it. Parenting, argh!! Being parented, argh!!

Such lamps as once shone in Khazad-dum (G: 100 words) by @hhimring. A delightful wee Celebrimbor and Narvi drabble that somehow fills about a million prompts and incorporates references from multiple Ages. Read the notes!

Klexos: Views of the Death of Míriel (G: 2K) by Chestnut_pod. Guide to an exhibit of representations of the death (and life) of Miriel. Marvelously complex and layered, with many moods and meanings. Come for the pathos, stay for the tacky tourist brochures!

Enjoy!

Previous recommendations of all shapes and sizes are at my friday favorites tag.

[wordlesslyjenneh]

Drabble prompt 24: Rebirth

When Fusoya saw the paladin enter the Lunar Palace, he thought it was Kluya. Was it a Revenant, raised by the unholy magic of Mount Ordeals, here to seek vengeance? Or was Kluya alive again, rebirthed through sheer willpower, here to do what Fusoya could not?

Fusoya watched the paladin move uncertainly through the Palace. This was not Kluya, Fusoya realized with relief. But who else could it be, looking so much like Kluya in his youth?

Realization slowly dawned, and Fuosya then knew who it was. Burying his shame, Fusoya called out to Kluya’s son, “At last, you've arrived!”

[cagebladeweek]

CageBlade Week Roundup

Thank you to all the contributors who helped make this week a success! We are grateful for everyone who took time to make words, do art, reblog, comment, and cheer on. Thank you! Before Anything Else: @asweetlovesong made our spectacular 2023 banner. THANK YOU SO MUCH!❤️

Without further ado, here is a masterpost! And yeah, it's long, but everyone in here deserves the shout-out.

Day 1:

Art:

Johnny & Sonya having a snowball fight by @asweetlovesong

Fics:

Spark by CosmicTapestries / @cosmictapestries

Bless Your Heart by jayiin/ @thenotebookwizard

Just Feel Better by ktbl / @dei2dei

Underdressed by @roztekawrites

Day 2:

Art:

Green Lantern Sonya takes her boyfriend to spaaaace! by @2tunafish

Fics:

Symptoms May Include by ktbl/ @dei2dei

Starstruck by CosmicTapestries / @cosmictapestries

I’ll be fine! By jayiin/ @thenotebookwizard

Panacea by @roztekawrites

Day 3:

Fics: 

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by by ktbl/ @dei2dei

Patching Up by @roztekawrites

Day 4:

Art:

Gargoyles! Spins on Sonya & Johnny by @drawingmouse

Fics:

You Are My Kind by ktbl/ @dei2dei

Southern Belle by jayiin/ @thenotebookwizard

The Sweetest Sound by CosmicTapestries / @cosmictapestries

The Best Catch by KarasikVsouse / @drawingmouse (English) and in Russian, Лучший улов

Surprise Gifts by @roztekawrites

Day 5:

Fics:

Developments by ktbl / @dei2dei

Exhibition Match by jayiin / @thenotebookwizard

Star-Fighter by @roztekawrites

Day 6:

Art:

Johnny's Early Career by @2tunafish

Fics:

Full Of Himself by jewels_and_gems / @blade-in-a-cage

Priorities by KarasikVsouse / @drawingmouse

Just Push Play by ktbl/ @dei2dei

Day 7:

Art:

Free Day Family picture by @drawingmouse

Free Day Johnny & Sonya Kameo Kiss by @2tunafish

Fics:

Blowing Kisses by @roztekawrites

What He Really Won by jayiin / @thenotebookwizard

lay (your weapons) down by ktbl/ @dei2dei

The Best Intentions and a Bowl of Skorthózoumi by CosmicTapestries / @cosmictapestries

Bonus! "day 8" "Admirers" drabble also by @roztekawrites... I mean, CageBlade -- if it's Janet Cage, it's still CageBlade, right? ;)

Here are some other great pieces of CageBlade content that were posted this week, though not for the event; we’re rounding them up here so they can get some more love too!

Don’t think these were intended for cagebladeweek, but coincidentally @crimescrimson posted some spectacular gifsets so we’re including them here! One & Two

Also posted this week was this great Revenant redesign by @darkimperialjedi

And this captures Sonya and Johnny’s dynamic in a nutshell, by @corre1310-blog

[aunteat]

WIP Tag Game

Thank you for the tag @leslutdepointedulac 💖 thank you!

RULES: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Denis

drabble

r May

Untitled Document

a/d

tagging @rebel-revenant @mothmage @lovevamp @hekateinhell

[chapter-master-darius]

Life and Death

(Probably be long, so slapping a KP. This is a drabble, not anything IRL! Still gonna be sad though.)

"Congratulations Neophytes. You have all succeeded in the first trials. You will become initiates. Scout Marines. But while you will not be a full Astartes yet, you have become Revenants. I hope I will live to see you all in the First or Second Companies."

Julen could have cried. In fact, he did a little. He wasn't alone, his friends were also holding back tears. They did it! They have become Revenants!

"I shall see you all when you graduate from the Tenth Company, but for now, you will be placed under the care of Captain Ta'Shar and his scout sergeants." Head Chaplain Gray finishes his speech with that, gesturing for the Captain to take it from there.

Julen knew he and his battle brothers would not disappoint.

----

Julen watches the light fade away from Lunn's eyes. He chokes back tears as he tries to shake his brother awake. A hand on his shoulder jerks him back to reality.

"He is dead." His sergeant says, yet not unkindly. "Let us honor him properly. Can you stand?"

"Y-Yes, sir."

"No you can't. Allow me to carry him." The sergeant takes Lunn's body from him. "Follow me Julen."

Julen couldn't hold back his tears at the funeral for his friend.

----

"Congratulations Initiates. Oh, my apologies, that should be 'Battle-Brothers' now." The Head Chaplain says. Did he always start his speeches with 'Congratulations'?

Julen and his fellow Battle-Brothers all salute, the clank from fifty armored hands meeting armored chests at the same time being impressively loud. "Captain Ta'Shar will have your marching orders. I apologize that my speech isn't as long here as it is for when you all became Scouts. But in my defense, you'll be standing here longer while you listen to Ta'Shar rattle off names and companies."

The Scout Captain levels the Head Chaplain with a look that can best be described as; 'I'm going to piss in your cereal.'

When his name is called, he salutes again. "Julen, 8th Company. Report to Administrator Drekketh for assignment to a squad."

Julen nods and walks to the rest of his brothers waiting to be taken to the 8th Company's vessel.

----

Julen looks up and cant help his amazed expression. Luckily he is wearing a helmet.

His father, Darius, is in front of him and his bruised and battered squad. He takes multiple rounds directly to his chest and pauldrons and simply shrugs them off, barely even jerking with the impact.

"COME ON THEN! WHO TAUGHT YOU TO SHOOT?! DID YOUR STANDARDS REALLY BECOME SO LAX AFTER YOU GOT YOUR ASSES KICKED AT SEBASTUS?!" Father yells at the Iron Warriors they face.

Julen grabs his bolter and begins to fire at the traitors, he is mindful to stay in cover. His armor is already damaged, it would be foolhardy to expose too much of himself.

As the last Iron Warrior falls, Father jumps down into the trench. His squad all try to stand and salute. "No need to get up. Get your rest, we'll have some apothecaries here soon. Where is the Sergeant of your squad?"

Julen stands at attention as he speaks: "Our Sergeant has fallen, Fa-...Sir."

A deep chuckle comes from the large astartes. "It's fine if you call me 'Father', truly." He looks around before his eyes fall upon Julen. "What is your name?" He asks, tone warm but the cold, unmoving metal of his helmet still slightly off-putting. Julen doesn't know why, it is identical to his own helmet, except for the size.

"Battle-Brother Julen, Father." He says, his posture stiffening.

"At ease, Julen. I am placing you in temporary command of your squad. When you all return to allied lines you will be taken to the 8th Company and rest. You have all done well." Julen beams with pride under his helmet, and he knows his squad does aswell.

"And Julen, I will speaking to Captain Mateo about you. Your initiative is commendable."

Julen could almost cry.

----

It's...cold. Julen thinks Why am I cold?

He looks down.

Oh. That's why. A large hole is where his heart should be. He can see that he's missing a lung as well.

He hears movement and looks up. It is Father.

"...Julen?"

He remembered his name! But he sounds sad?

"Yes Father?" He asks, his voice soft.

"Where is your squad?"

"They fell. I had to retreat a little, to get to an advanta-" Julen cannot continue, he starts to cough. Why does he taste blood?

"Save your voice, my son." Father says, getting on a knee next to him. "Would you like to remove your helmet?"

Now that he thinks about it, he would. A slow nod.

Julen blinks as Father removes his helmet. "Father...could you remove your helmet? I've never seen what you look like. I'd like to."

Father removes his helmet, worry and sadness is clear on his face.

We have the same hair. Julen thinks. "Father...why do you look sad?"

"You are dying Julen."

"Oh..." Julen looks down. "...will you stay with me? As I go?"

"Yes my son, I will stay with you."

Julen smiles at that.

"That's nice of you." He murmurs, eyes sliding closed.

Battle Brother Julen of the Fourth Company never opens his eyes again.

[tendertenebrosity]

Masterpost: First of the Hollow

Various drabbles written about my OC, tentatively titled the Hollow. A member of a logging expedition makes a bargain with an ancient forest spirit! Fantasy whump with body horror elements. Not a ton of plot to speak of as yet.

1 - Payment

2 - Memory

3 - Chest

4 - Grief

5 - Waterfall

6 - Offering

TBD - punishment

7 - Company

8 - Judgement

9 - Complications

10 - Revenant

Backstory - family

Art by Friendlyforestbeast

Moodboard

[scaryman-fancam]

The untapped potential that is the ship Revhound is fucking crazy guys, please hear me out

Revhound (Revenant x Bloodhound) Headcanons/Drabble!!

warnings: canon typical violence, blood, suggestive themes

- Let’s say all prior Revenant headcanons I’ve listed are correct in this scenario. Like, Revenant does have an extremely accurate sense of smell, can smell fear, blood, etc., right?

- Bloodhound’s whole thing is being a tracker. Revenant, the perfect assassin. Putting them against each other creates an interesting game of hunter vs. hunter.

- I imagine that they would definitely hold some sort of respect for one another. They’re both aware of each other’s reputation, and both believe the other is a bit of wasted potential. Bloodhound thinks Revenant could be just as perfect a tracker as them, if not even better, while Revenant believes Bloodhound could do with a little more aggression and durability.

- With Revenant’s Forged Shadows, he can afford to push hard on a target once he’s got them where he wants them. Bloodhound doesn’t have this sort of ability, but they could certainly benefit with some sort of training, perhaps? Withstand defensive attacks a little better and push harder, and if only Revenant had some way to practice putting his heightened senses to use…

- They can help each other train, maybe. Run away to a heavily forested area with crazy terrain, start off miles from each other. Bloodhound shows Revenant how to utilize his keen sense of smell to track, while Revenant forces Bloodhound to push themselves further every time.

- It’s truly vicious. Primal even. At first, Bloodhound does well to evade Revenant, to lure him into a space where they have the upper hand. After a weekend, Revenant has already found his groove in these new skills. Tracking down Bloodhound is the easy part. The chase, the fight, is where things get interesting.

- Revenant is unrelenting. Doesn’t need air or water or rest for weary muscles. Bloodhound is brought to their very limit and forced to take the leap, hoping to catch on something and learn to carry on even when their body aches. Learn to know when it’s time to turn and fight.

- They goad each other into becoming the (best? Worst? Most terrifying?) versions of themselves. Weekend after weekend when they’re not scheduled to play in the games, they’ve run off to train. It becomes more than routine. It’s instinct. The thrill of the hunt, the blood, the dirt and the metal shavings left on thorns and discarded axes, the familiarity of one another, the bond of finding one another, and fighting until the other gives out, only to give mercy in the last second. They can’t kill one another, no, then the fun will end.

- They’re constantly adapting to one another. Bloodhound leaving a trail of brittle leaves and branches, only for Revenant to learn to stalk quieter over them. Revenant climbing into trees above to try and get the drop of Bloodhound, only for them to begin spotting the crude marks of metal claws on the sides of trees from far away.

- Revenant feels alive. Bloodhound explores a brutal side of themselves, becoming more aggressive just to be able to match the simulacrum. They need these getaways like they need blood in their veins or coolant in his system. The games are too impersonal, too safe for live broadcasts for thousands of fans watching. It’s private when they’re away, it’s sacred, it becomes a second home, or rather a true home in comparison to the cots back at headquarters, or the living spaces provided by the games.

- It could become something more. Defeat and victory after a bloody battle with promised mercy, boundaries that are never crossed for the sake of doing this dance again and again. Admitting defeat at each other’s hands becomes allowing victory in the arms of one another. It’s an odd form of trust, allowing each other the privilege of beating them down until they’re within the last stretches of consciousness.

- Suddenly recovery isn’t spent alone, the trek back to headquarters and silence in their rooms. It’s staying a little longer in the privacy of abandoned buildings and crowded forests, tending to the wounds inflicted upon each other. Revenant’s hands coated in blood are the same hands that dress Bloodhound’s bloodied limbs; Bloodhound’s finger tips grazing the metal of Revenant’s form, searching for the last few bullets and thorns.

- Bloodhound learns the ins and outs of this simulacrum, having partially disassembled him to remove a splintering branch. Learns that he can feel, not just pain, but also tenderness. They learn that the feather light touches and gentle pressure earn sounds akin to purring, those burning yellow optics flickering and dimming. Revenant doesn’t sleep, but he can remember the comfort of soft sheets and a warm bed, a safe place to dream when he finally accept the embrace of his rival.

- Revenant learns that same tenderness. Hands crafted to be efficient blades can sooth the cuts they dealt. The cool, blunt, metal finger pads learn the pressure that eases bruises. His prize for winning today is the honor of cradling Bloodhound rather than the reversal. He doesn’t know when it became a prize, but victory was no longer as simple as the rush of pride when Bloodhound landed in a bloodied, exhausted heap. Victory was the sweet reward of seeing the other so vulnerable and trusting. Trust the other not to finish them off in a secluded place. Trusting the not to leave them to fend for themselves. They knew the weakest points of each other, how to take apart and put back together one another.

- Revenant learns what’s under that mask- the goggles too. Bloodhound finds every latch and groove in the metal of Revenant’s form. They know each other’s skin better than their own. It’s only a matter of time before they’ve memorized one another inside and out. The hunt, the chase, the battle, the recovery; they become a courting ritual. Proving that they’re worthy of one another, with violence and tenderness, with warm blood and cold metal.