#the rantings and ravings of a mad woman

[howlingdemon13]

Because Tumblr sucks and apparently 7 pages worth of gushing over Trevor Belmont is too much for this site to handle, here's my rambling in a Google Doc. https://docs.google.com/document/d/128c2U4y_Qu0aMQifbTUvgKtPFXs8fVvUME2PLAbYNtU/edit?usp=sharing

[beckyninja]

Accused

Pairing: Demetrian Titus x FemReader (sort of)

Warnings: mob violence

Description: While serving in the DeathWatch, Titus meets the woman who will come to mean more to him than he ever thought.

Another long prequel for you guys! This one takes place some time before the events of Revelation.

You ran.

Gravel crunched beneath your boots as you fled down the dry stream bed. High ravine walls on either side blocked the moonlight. You fled blind, guided only by memory. It wasn’t enough.

You slammed into an unseen boulder. Momentum hurled you forward onto the ground, skin scraping from your hands and knees. You let out a short cry, then froze.

Did they hear?

You strained your ears and heard nothing. But that did not comfort you. Your pursuers had spent lifetimes hunting wary prey in these mountains. Still, after a few minutes of stillness, you began to hope.

 Perhaps they’ve given up.

From your prone position, you fought to see through the darkness ahead. The Angels’ ship. Your only chance of salvation. It had to be there!

You opened your mouth to scream. “Help m-”

Hands clamped onto your face and shoulders. You bit and struggled as they lifted you off the ground, dragging you backwards.

A high, mad laugh chilled your blood.

“You will burn, Heretic! Burn!”

***

The Day Before

“Father Cortez, this insanity must end!”

You stood outside the village’s little church, shawl pulled tight against your shoulders, and glared at the priest. He glared back. His red-rimmed eyes seemed to burn within their sockets. Blood stained his robes.

He’s been flogging himself again.

Your lips twisted. “How many more must die before you admit the uselessness of-”

“Silence!” Spittle sprayed from the priest’s mouth. “How dare you challenge me, girl!”

You sighed. Only a few years older than you, and yet he called you “girl.” You looked around at the crowd of villagers milling uneasily. Men, women, and children worn ragged by the terror of the past few months. Their eyes flickered between you and the priest.

“Friends,” you smiled, “for four generations the women of my family have tended your hurts, healed your sick, and delivered your children. I may be young. But I studied at the feet of my mother and grandmother before me. You trusted them.” 

“Will you not trust me?”

Marta, the elderly church caretaker, finally spoke. “What would you have us do, Healer?”

You nodded to her. “We must send someone down-mountain, into the city. We must call for aid-”

“No!” The Priest shrieked. “These attacks are a test sent from the God-Emperor Himself! To purify and strengthen our faith!”

Your temper frayed. “And does the Emperor use xenos monsters as his instruments now, Father? Does He demand we sacrifice humans to them? Innocents?”

“Heretics!”

“Was little Carlos a heretic, Cortez? At seven years old?” You pushed through the crowd to point a finger directly in his face. “Was Old Inez, who never went a day without praying in this very church?” 

You straightened your spine and loomed over the little man. “With each villager bound and left for these beasts, you promised they would leave. Have they? No!” You spun back to face the crowd. “Because they are no punishment! They are-”

A metallic roar cut off your words. From over the peaks surrounding the village, came a ship the likes of which you had never seen. The crowd shrieked and scattered as it hovered directly over their heads. For a minute it lingered there, sending dust-filled wind whipping through the square. Then, it rose once again and veered toward the south, beyond the ravine.

You stood amidst chaos. In front of you, families dove into their homes and slammed the doors behind them. Behind you, Father Cortez ranted and raved.

Upon the side of the ship a symbol had been carved: A skull and crossbones over an elaborate “I”. 

Hope flickered in your heart.

***

“What are they?” Marta whimpered from her place next to you.

You peered through the church’s dirty window. An hour or so after the ship flew over the village, a few hunters had heard heavy footfalls coming up the ravine. For the second time that day people locked themselves within their huts and prayed to the Emperor.

It seemed He had finally heard them.

“The Emperor’s Angels.” You breathed.

“You’re sure?”

You nodded. “My great-grandmother saw one once, my grandmother told me.”

Giants in armor who brought salvation to the faithful and destruction to the enemy.

They were certainly giant. But the Angel in your grandmother’s story had worn brightly colored armor, whereas these wore black. You squinted through the grime and could just make out a couple of insignias painted on the massive shoulders: some sort of canine head and a stylized cross.

One bore no insignia at all. A red hood covered his helmet. You watched him gesture to the others. 

“What are they doing here?” Marta’s voice shook.

“I think… I hope they might be-”

“It is none of our concern!”

Father Cortez’s bony hands gripped your and Marta’s shoulders. He dragged you backwards with surprising strength. The older woman tumbled to the floor with a pained cry. You knelt to help her, shooting the priest a look of disgust.

He ignored you. “Whatever they are here for, we should leave them to it.”

“And what if they’re here to help us?”

“We need no such help! The Emperor provides!”

“By the Throne,” you pressed your hands to your eyes, “yes. You’re right, Father. And He has provided.”

You pointed out the window. “There is His provision! Walking down our main street!”

“What… what are you going to do?” Marta whispered.

“If they are here to stop the xenos,” you muttered, half to yourself, “then they need to know about the earthquake, and the cave up on Black Peak.”

The priest cackled. “And what makes you so sure they don’t already know, girl?”

“Cortez!” You whirled on him. “Enough with the ‘girl’! I remember when you were a pimple-faced brat who delighted in pulling the legs off insects.”

If anything, you’ve only gotten worse since your ordination.

The priest drew back into the corner of the smoky church.

“Yes, go sulk and leave me be.” You took a deep breath and made for the door.

Marta shrilled your name. You waved the old woman’s concerns away, clinging to what little courage you’d managed to gather.

“I’m going to help, if I can.”

***

Idiot. Idiot! Throne damned, idiot! 

Five helmeted heads had turned your way when you pushed open the church’s door and stepped into the square. A wave of dread washed over you, every primal instinct you possessed screaming at you to run.

Oh Throne, they’re so… big!

You knew large animals. Before the attacks began, the village had made its living hunting the lumbering beasts that lived among the peaks and ravines. Once you’d even seen one of the great predatory felines.

This moment reminded you of that encounter. But, instead of dashing back to safety, you continued toward the predators. You kept your hands held out in front of you.

I’m no threat. A hysterical laugh threatened to burst from your lips. As if these behemoths would ever consider me one!

When you’d gotten within twenty feet, the Angel in the red hood raised a hand, palm facing you. He didn’t speak, but you felt the command as if he’d shouted. You halted, dropping to your knees and bowing your head.

You doubted your trembling legs would have carried you much farther, anyway.

An odd hissing, crackling noise seemed to come from the Angels’ direction. You didn’t dare look up as footsteps approached.

“Rise.”

The deep voice shook you from the inside out. You gasped and tried to comply, only for your legs to give out. A great, armored gauntlet grasped your upper arm, steadying you. You looked up into the lenses of the hooded Angel’s helmet.

For an instant, you swore you met his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat, then, against all reason, calmed.

He won’t hurt me.

You didn’t know where the conviction came from. You just knew it to be true.

“Who are you?”

You told him your name. “I…I am the Healer of this village.” You remembered your grandmother’s story and hastily added, “M-my Lord.”

“Are you alone here?”

“N-no, my Lord. The others are afraid.”

A laugh, almost a bark, came from one of the other Angels. “And ye are not? Plucky little lass.”

Another gave a growl. “Commander, we should not linger.”

The Commander never looked away from you. “Do you know why we are here?”

“I…,” you took a deep breath and tried to steady yourself, “I hope you are here to help us, my Lord. Against the xenos.”

A soft intake of breath, as if in surprise. “What do you know of xenos?”

“My great-grandmother came to this world on a refugee ship, my Lord. She told my grandmother of the Enemies of Mankind and their horrors.” 

Silence, except for that hissing, crackling noise again.

You swallowed, desperation making you bold. “Please, my Lord, I think I can help.”

***

“... after the earthquake, some of our hunters reported a new cave opening up on Black Peak. A few boys decided to explore it. They never returned.” 

You scampered over another boulder on the trail. You’d climbed this path dozens of times in your life, but it had become more difficult since the quake. Your foot slipped on a patch of loose shale.

Once again, an armored hand reached out to steady you. You smiled up at the Commander. Strange, the others still unnerved you, but not him. 

“Thank you, my Lord.”

He gave the barest nod. “Continue.”

“Well, that night the attacks began. They only ever come after dark, and they only ever take one person. Oh.”

Just ahead, an entire rock formation had collapsed on the trail. You watched the other Angels step over the rubble with minimal effort, and looked for a way to do the same. Suddenly, you felt hands at your waist.

The Commander lifted you like a child, settling you in the crook of one arm as he jumped the obstacle. One of the other Angels, the one with the canine head on his pauldron, looked back and chuckled.

“Oh! Um, thank you again, my Lord.” 

You waited for him to set you on your feet. He didn’t, continuing up the mountain path.

“It will be faster this way.” 

“I don’t want to be a burden.” You blurted.

“You are not. Continue.”

“R-right. Um, yes. The survivors say the creatures are like great insects, but made of metal.”

“Mmm.”

You wracked your memory for anything else. “Their eyes… they glowed green.” 

The giant carrying you stiffened. You had no time to wonder about it before you spotted a great black opening in the mountainside far above you.

“There it is!”

The hissing, crackling noise again. All five Angels came to a halt, peering up at the cavern. The Commander placed you on the ground.

“Go back.”

You nodded. On the one hand, you were glad to be away. On the other…

“Will you be alright?”

You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth. One of the Angels guffawed, the sound starting a few small rock slides in the distance. You felt another’s glare like a brand on your skin.

“Of all the insolent-”

The Commander held up a hand, silencing him. “We will be fine. Go.”

You turned, shame heating your face, when he spoke again, softer than before. “My thanks.”

***

Halfway down the trail, you heard explosions, followed by rumbling chatter you assumed came from the Angels weapons. Plumes of smoke rose from the Peak.

God-Emperor, protect your Angels as they do battle in Your name.

Especially the kind one. 

Your cheeks heated again and you scrambled back down the path. Would he remember you? You doubted it. Just an insignificant girl from an insignificant village on an insignificant world. You, however, would remember him for the rest of your life.

Another story to tell your own children, one day.

Without the Commander to carry you over the taller obstacles, it took the rest of the day to return to the village. The sun had begun to set. You smiled. Only yesterday the thought of being out after dark would have sent you sprinting in terror. But now…

You nearly skipped down the last stretch of path. You were hungry, thirsty, and tired. But you could not wait to tell your friends the news. They no longer needed to be afraid. No more need be sacrificed to the monsters in the dark.

Your mood soured at that thought. 

None needed to be sacrificed in the first place.

Hopefully, now that the danger was past, the villagers would see how twisted Father Cortez had become. Perhaps you could rally them, convince them to send him back to the city. The village could request a new spiritual leader.

The streets were deserted. You heard voices in the direction of the church. A strange red glow seemed to emanate from that direction as well. A celebration? You smiled and broke into a run. You had much to celebrate.

A bonfire blazed in the center of the square. Father Cortez stood before it, gesticulating wildly. Before him every villager in the settlement watched with rapt attention. 

As you neared, you began to make out his words.

“...Emperor, in His mercy, sent His angels to relieve our suffering!”

Finally, something you and I agree on, Cortez.

“But the stain of heresy still remains!”

You jerked to a halt at the rear of the crowd. 

What?!

“We must find the true cause of our afflictions and cleanse it through flame! Lest the monsters return to ravage us once more!”

To your horror, the crowd murmured in assent. You noticed their postures, the looks in their eyes, and wondered what lies Cortez had been pouring in their ears during your absence. They reminded you of nothing so much as a herd of panicked prey animals.

But you’d calmed them before.

You began to move through the crowd. You smiled at the people you knew as friends, people your family had done nothing but help for four generations. Most refused to meet your gaze. Some glared, firelight dancing in their eyes.

Cortez saw you.

“There!” He shrieked. “The one who denied the Emperor’s justice! The dissenter! The trouble-maker! The outsider!” His lips curled back into a feral snarl. “The Heretic!”

You looked once more into the faces of the villagers around you. What you saw there chilled your blood.

You ran.

***

Present

“No!” You struggled in the grasp of the mob, searching desperately for a friendly face. “Lonzo, Maria, Berto! You know me! Help me!”

“Heretic! Heretic! Heretic!”

The damning chant pounded in your skull. Hands clawed at you, raking your skin and tearing at your clothes. You felt a hunk of your hair yanked out. A fist struck you in the face, followed by blows to the ribs and stomach. You heaved, tasting blood.

“Bring her here!” Cortez’s voice screamed out above the noise.

The mob threw you onto the ground before the bonfire. Its heat scorched your bloodied skin. One eye swelled closed, but you could still see Cortez standing above you. The firelight made him look like a daemon out of his own sermons.

You gritted your teeth and rocked up onto your knees. “Bastard! If there is someone to be blamed for all our misery, it’s you!”

His boot met the side of your head. You collapsed back into the dirt, ears ringing.

All around you, faces you recognized. Maria, whose twins you’d helped your mother deliver. Berto, who you’d spent weeks nursing through a fever. Lonzo, who had danced with you at the last midwinter festival. 

You saw Marta and reached out a hand. She spit on it.

“Why?” You whispered through split lips.

If you’d made it to the Angels’ ship, if they’d told everyone how you helped, would it have even made a difference? Or would Cortez have simply waited for them to leave before he accused you?

Accused. 

The priest pointed down at you.

Accused.

The crowd roared for blood.

Accused.

You felt yourself dragged upright and shoved toward the bonfire. You didn’t fight. You had no fight left. 

“Burn her! Burn her! Burn her!”

You closed your eyes.

“Enough!”

Everything went silent save for the crackle of the flames. The hands released you, and you crumpled to the ground once again. You heard the familiar tread of armored feet. Then gauntleted hands lifted you gently, so very gently, and you looked into a hooded, helmeted face.

I’m safe.

The Commander towered above the cowering mob. Dimly, you heard Cortez babbling something, sounding as if he’d gone truly insane. The Commander shifted you to one arm.

You watched him reach down and lift the gibbering priest by his collar. 

“Fool.”

With an almost casual flick of his arm, the Angel tossed the priest on his own bonfire.

***

You awoke to the light of dawn. You lay on a hard, metallic surface, some kind of cloth draped over your body. Confusion clouded your thoughts, and you tried to sit up.

Pain shot through every limb.

��Easy, easy now.” A voice soothed. “Here, drink this.”

Some kind of cup was brought to your lips and you drank, coughing at the acrid taste. The pain began to fade. You blinked and looked around.

An older woman knelt at your side. She was clothed in a black robe with the symbol of a canine head stitched on its shoulder. Three scars, like the mark of a claw, ridged her cheek and gave her a fearsome look.

But her eyes were kind when she smiled.

“Better?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good.” The woman patted your shoulder with a broad, rough hand. “I’m no apothecary, but I do know how to mix the odd painkiller in a pinch. Can ye stand?”

She helped you to your feet. You looked around, realizing you stood in the belly of the ship you’d seen fly over yesterday. The Angel’s ship.

Throne, was it only yesterday?

A ramp lay open to the ground outside. Through the dawn glare, you recognized the rocky ravine. A shudder ran through you.

The woman noticed. “Aye. We’re still on your rock of a homeworld.” She spat. “Allfather curse it!”

Your head spun. “How? Why?”

She patted your shoulder. “I’m sure the Commander will explain. He’s a decent sort, for a Black Shield.” She gave you an odd, knowing smile. “I think you’ll find yer a lucky one after all.”

“I don’t-”

“Frigg!” A familiar voice bellowed. “Curse it, woman! Is the lass awake yet?”

The woman snorted and stood. “Aye, she is, m’lord!” She rolled her eyes. “Oh, aye, yer lucky. Lucky the Commander picked ye instead of him.”

“Bring her out, then!”

The woman, Frigg, fussed over you. “Now, ye be a good lass and do as yer told and ye’ll be fine. Go on with ye.”

Head spinning, you staggered down the ramp. Four of the Angels stood clustered off to one side, surrounding a crate of some sort. They all looked much the same as you had seen them before. Perhaps a few more dents in their armor.

The one with the canine insignia barked a laugh as you appeared. He elbowed the one with the cross insignia, who growled under his breath.

“Waste of time.”

“Hah! Simmer down, Templar. The Commander led us to a good fight. If he wants a new little serf girl out of it, what is the harm, eh?”

Serf?

“Brother Ulfar, Brother Beren. Load the artifact onto the Thunder Hawk.”

The Commander appeared from the other side of the ship. He didn’t have his hooded cloak. With a start, you realized it was draped over your shoulders. Your face burned and you hurried down the ramp as quickly as you could, holding it out toward him.

You tripped. Yet again, he steadied you.

“Clumsy.” The word held no anger.

“I’m so sorry, my Lord. I just…I just wanted to…” you sighed, giving up. “Thank you.”

He was silent for a long moment. Then he reached up and removed his helmet. 

You almost stopped breathing. His face was a mass of scars. Metal studs of some kind dotted one side of his forehead. His lips curved in a stoic frown. You felt you should be frightened.

But his eyes…

Warm and weary and sad. They looked down into yours.

“You cannot return to your home.”

All of a sudden, everything threatened to overwhelm you. You covered your face with your hands. Tears spilled down your cheeks.

“F-forgive me, m-my Lord. I-”

“You have shown courage.”

You did not feel especially courageous in the moment. He continued.

“I would have you come with me.”

You gasped and stared up at him through the blur of tears. Brother Ulfar’s words came back to you.

“As a… a serf?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know what that means, my Lord.”

He explained. You would tend to his quarters and armor, cleaning, mending, and performing whatever menial work was required. 

“In return, you will be fed, clothed, and educated.” He hesitated, then to your astonishment, sank to one knee. “And I swear by my oath as an Ultra- as an Astartes, I will never let you come to harm again.”

You shook your head. “Why?”

He didn’t seem to mind that you’d forgotten to add “my Lord”. “I know the pain of a false accusation. I know how deep betrayal can cut. I,” he looked almost bashful, “would spare you some of that pain, if I can.”

By the Throne, you saw empathy in those eyes. Frigg had been right. He was a decent man.

You wiped the tears from your cheeks and took a deep breath. “Then I will try and serve you as best as I am able, my Lord.”  

One of the corners of his mouth ticked upward. He nodded and stood, replacing his helmet.

“Follow.”

“My Lord? One more question, if I may?”

He turned back toward you.

“May I know your name?”

Another long pause. He nodded toward the other Angels.

“They know me as ‘Nullus’. In the hearing of others, you will address me as such.” You heard a long breath. “In private, you may call me Titus.”

You didn’t know what this new life would hold, and you doubted it would be easy. But one thing you were certain of.

You would follow Titus anywhere.

@remembrancer-of-heresy @solspina @sleepyfan-blog @moodymisty @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@bispecsual @kit-williams @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @adhd-fandom-hyperfocus @lemon-russ

@justeverythingnothingelse @scriberye @bleedingichorhearts @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @mooniequeen

@passionofthesith

Once again, please comment if you'd like to be tagged in any further work.

[simpingforheros]

Safe

Pairing: Gotham Knights! Jason Todd X Female! Reader

Summary: Being a mercenary isn’t easy. Being a lab experiment turned mercenary isn’t easy either. Being a Bio-engineered mercenary in Gotham city with a reformed Red Hood isn’t easy at all.

Warnings: Hurt Comfort, Angst with bittersweet ending, Enemies to Friends??, Female Pronouns, Mild Violence, Horrible Fight Scenes (I’m sorry), Reader is basically Black Cat but little different, implied OOC! Amanda Waller, Mentions of Death, Torture, PTSD, and Panic Attacks.

Author’s Note: I guess I’ll give y’all a break from my Toxic! Jason agenda. But I’m not giving y’all a break from calling y’all out on being slanderous to my underrated, unproblematic princess that is GK! Jason. He may not be as pretty as the other ones, but he got a better relationship with his family than y’all have with y’all’s daddies (jk I’m sorry). Also yes, the reader is Black Cat coded because I love her and I want to see Jason with a cool feline counterpart of his own.

+++++++++++++++++++

.

.

.

Fuck. FUCK!

Chanted through her mind as she realizes what the hell she has just done. This whole assignment was a set up from the moment that job listing hit her burner phone. Her clawed gloves raked through her hair as she desperately took in her situation.

Months after the death of Batman, criminals became bolder with their crimes despite the lurking remains of Batman’s legacy. New villains and mercenaries came in to either assist Gotham’s veteran rogues or building their own empires among the shadows of the bigger evil’s crimes. However, Y/N didn’t fall into either category.

Originally a lab rat for Amanda Waller to find a cure for her terminal cancer, the cat like mercenary became a quick popular option among gang leaders and the low life to hire to do quick jobs without minimum risk. Of course the cat like persona wasn’t due to her stealth…

A blast rings out of the previously locked door as the girl’s head snaps back. Her body collapses as the roar of victorious laughter fills the air.

“You see how that bitch’s head just snapped back like a twig?!” Victor Sionas laughed through his leather mask as his golden firearm flashed in the fluorescent light of the value.

It was supposed to be a quick heist, minimum risk on her end. Just grab a hard drive with 6.8 Billion dollars worth of stolen and encrypted medical documents and financial records and leave before Black Mask realized she was there. An easy heist for a fair reward.

Victor’s ranting and raving filled the safe in loud echos as his assistant tries to listen to her pager for their normal disposal team. As the crimson slowly sets into the concrete, a faint green glow began to form around her body. The harsh grit releases her life force as it recedes back into her skull.

Amanda Waller wasn’t normally a desperate woman, but when it came to her life, she didn’t care what criminal she had to deal with to get her life back. Even the League of Assassins…

As the pair was about to leave to attend a meeting of some kind, Y/N didn’t know or care to know as her ears ring back into tune. Her body jolts up as she springs back to life in an instant.

As her eyes meet Sionas’ shocked stare, her lips curled into a wicked smirk. Her E/C eyes shined with a new madness as she flexes her adamantium tipped claws, ready to rip out his throat.

Victor quickly raises his gun ready to shoot again as she swipes at his wrist. The appendage falling to the floor as his screams drowned out the echos of his false victories.

“I guess it was an easy job.” She comments before her claws strike again.

Maybe she should ask for a raise to make up for her dry cleaning?

+++++++++++++++

The crime scene was a bloodbath.

Police scrambled and crawled the building as lights and tape marked the massacre. Every surface, furniture, rug, and plant were all tagged, sprayed, and searched for any bodily matter that could lead you to the person behind this horrific crime.

Black Mask’s gang. A once prominent gang in Gotham city who survived fights between Batman and The Red Hood were all dead. Eviscerated. Slaughtered.

All of the dead were clinging onto weapons as either distinct claw marks either craved them to ribbons or they were killed by their own weapons. Whoever did it clearly attacked the ones who attacked first.

The only survivors were the ones who didn’t attempt to fight the assailant. Victor’s assistant was the only one that was harmed among them with a deep set of scratches on her face with a look of horror in her eyes.

A look Nightwing and Red Hood didn’t like to see even from a criminal.

“And you said you didn’t know why this happened?” Nightwing asks skeptical of the woman’s reliability.

The woman eagerly nods as she sputters out, “We caught her in the safe and Sionas wanted to teach her a lesson…we heard her reputation was only with stealing…not this…”

Jason growls as he grew inpatient with her stuttering, but he takes a deep breath. ‘Be Patient…’ He reminds himself before something made his ears perk up.

“It was like magic or something! Sionas shot her point blank in the head and she just came back to life in an instant!! That’s when she went crazy! We just wanted to get her back for stealing from our off shore accounts. We didn’t know that she was a…monster.”

Fuck.

+++++++++++++++++++

Fire. Fire is what it felt like. It crawls from the deepest part of her mind and spreads through her veins like a fever. Her vision tunneled in as memories of all her previous deaths haunting her brain surged forward as her body acted on instinct. Out of fear…

It took three days before the madness faded this time. That was probably the longest time she was trapped in that state since she escaped Waller. Those three days were a fog as she only remembered the splitting head ache from the gun shot and her costume covered in blood.

Once the new broke on a ‘maniac’ who killed the Black Mask’s gang, Y/N knew she couldn’t leave Gotham yet until the buzz died down. She already knew the Bat’s sidekicks were looking for her, so she used whatever cash she had left to hide out in a cheap motel room.

“Fuck….” She groans as her trembling hands dropped her cell phone. Her eyes tried to dart around the aisles of the gas station she was currently hunting for food in. The remaining madness caused her senses to be on high alert and her anxiety to be high.

If she was back home, she could hideout in her apartment with her cat for a month before finding another job listing, but she was trapped in Gotham in a ratty motel.

So venturing to the crummy gas station for some junk food and beer is the next best thing. At least the disinterested cashier doesn’t pay her any mind. 4am on a weekday with a case of beer probably made her just appear to be a normal tweaker.

(Y/N) adjusts her sunglasses and makes sure her silver hair was well hidden under her zip-up’s hood before she brings her items to the counter. The zit faced teen gives her a look over, not hiding the attention he gave to her exposed cleave from the tank top she had showing.

“Ma’am, we don’t allow sunglasses inside the store.” He creaks out. Her (E/C) roll as she takes her sun glasses off. The door chimes as someone enters the store, but her attention was focused on the cashier. When he finally scanned her beer, his cracking voice asks,

“Do you have ID, Ma’am?”

Her hands go to her sweatpants pocket and only feels the cash she brought. Her mental anguish grows as she sighs in annoyance. Her fake id was in motel, and she technically doesn’t exist so she never had a real id.

Deciding to turn up the charm, she smiles sweetly at the teenager as she says, “I’m sorry, but I left my id back at my place. I’m sure you can tell I’m old enough, right?”

Her cleavage seemed to not work its charm as the teen rudely says,

“I can tell you’re old by your hair lady. But I need ID.”

Her eyes widen as a faint glow of green shows as she snaps at him. “I’m not old! I’m 24, you little p-!”

She stops herself as she takes a deep breath as she feels the madness subsided. She really didn’t wanna kill a kid over some cheap beer.

“Fine…I had a bad day so just get me the snacks.” She admits in defeat as she pulls out a hundred bucks. Just as she was going to pay, a hand drops some beef jerky and a case of beer on the counter beside her items. A deep voice cuts the air and causes a shiver to crawl up her spine.

“Add her stuff and beer to my order.” A thick, veiny hand presents the cashier with his ID and a credit card as she turns her head to see who it was that saved her evening.

Before her was a man who stood well over 6 feet tall. His shoulders were as broad as an old oak tree with muscles strong enough to take one down. His face wasn’t particularly the normal standard for attractiveness, but the strong jaw and scar gave him a handsome roughness that made her stomach tighten. It didn’t help that his nearly buzzed hair gave him a military sense, but his eyes were what made her heart stop in her chest. The beautiful green eyes that glowed an unearthly hue that she was familiar with.

She sees it in her eyes everyday. The scar of the Lazarus pit.

(Y/N) almost forgot where she was before the cashier cleared his throat. Her focus returned back to the counter as she grabs her stuff. Before she could run off, something made her stop to wait for the man. Whether it was curiosity or stupidity, she didn’t know.

Maybe she wanted to see what his deal was? Was he with Waller? The League of Assassins? Can he tell she was from the pit too? How different were they? How many times did he die and come back?

The opportunity to speak with someone who may can relate to her outweighed her wariness from her situation. But it was curiosity that killed the cat, right?

As the man starts heading for the door, she follows as she says,

“Excuse me?”

His eyes meet hers as a small smile as he says,

“Hey, I’m sorry for stepping in over there. I understand when stuff isn’t going your way.”

A warmth takes over her face as she says shyly, “No, it’s fine I just wanted to thank you. That was really sweet of you…”

As the two walk out, the stranger's friendly demeanor drops a little as he mumbles into the empty night air.

"So, you're the one who killed Victor Sionas..."

Her breath releases as she hears the pin drop. Her eyes dart around the parking lot as she sees the only vehicle is a old school motorcycle. She doesn't have any weapons and she wasn't sure if how skilled he was or if he had gained powers just like her from the pit.

With a frown, (Y/N) gruffs out, "Yeah...what are you gonna let me enjoy my last beer before you turn me in?"

She looks up to the man as their eyes meet. His eyes studying her as she keeps a tight grip on her bag. Maybe if he charges at her, she can swing the bag to his head and throw him off...

"No." He answers simply as he heads towards his bike. Her eyes widen in disbelief as she sputters out.

"No? I just admitted to murder and you're letting me go??"

"Yep." He answers over his shoulder as he loads his things into the compartment under his seat. Irritation fills her being instead of the relief she should have felt. She stomps towards him as she fusses,

"What's your deal? You buy me a beer and casually ask me if I commit murder? And you're gonna just leave? Did the pit mess you up that bad??" She snaps at him as she stands face to face, face to chest with him. Her eyes glowed eerily as he was filled, and a familiar shiver went down his spine.

His hands clap onto her shoulders as he pulls her close to him. A wave of coldness filled her body as the eerie glow covered his hands. The familiar feeling of the Lazarus pit filled her as he leaned into a whisper.

"The only reason I'm not hauling your pretty ass to Arkham right now is because I understand that it wasn't you when you killed them, Kitty..." His eyes glowed momentarily as a sad look briefly flashed into those green pools. "A petty mercenary who had no history of mass murder on file doesn't just jump to it without warning. The Lazarus Pit fucks up people to their core, so trust me when I say that I understand better than anyone how you feel..."

'Understand? How can he understand?' Her mind unravels as she looks up at him in disbelief. Has he ever woke up afraid of what he might have done the night before? Worry about when someone would come and shoot him in the head or stab him just to see if he could come back without being submerged anymore? Did Waller use him to heal her at the expense of his own pain just to throw him away to fend for himself???

Rage flashes through her as she roughly pulls away from him. Her bag falls to the asphalt as glass shatters. Her eyes are wild as old memories filled her. "Don't you dare say you understand me? You don't know shit about what I had to go through?"

His eyebrows frown together as he grimaces. A look of recognition and guilt flashes before he says to her. "You're right. I don't know what you went through before you died, but I do understand how you're feeling. The anxiety, the rage, the blood lust...I wanna help you."

She laughs bitterly as she figures out something about him. He only died once and was brought back. The skunk stripe in his hair should have given it away when she realized he was similar to her.

"Which time?" (Y/N) asked as she turned around and walked away. "I've died plenty of times to know that you will never understand..."

And she leaves the man alone in the parking lot as she storms off to her motel, not caring if he sees where she went or not. Her heart was beating out of control as she felt the wavering thoughts of going back to him and either hitting him or hugging him.

‘Maybe I need to rest some more….’

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Silence filled the museum as the dust bunnies and art laid undisturbed during their rest from the public eye. Her footsteps were a minimum as she walked through the shadowy parts of the building, trying to find what she was sent to retrieve.

After another week of hiding out, a job was directly pinged for her on the job board. Her eyes squinted at it at first because the offer was a little bogus to her.

‘Steal a painting, retrieve the hard drive inside, and bring it to the disclosed location in exchange for 2 Million dollars in unmarked bills.’

2 Million for a petty thief job that would have more suited Catwoman instead her seemed pretty unusual. But, at this point, her phyiscal cash funds were running low and she still was afraid of using her offshore accounts now that she knows that some zombie like her knew who she was.

Her masked eyes scanned the building’s plaza until she found what she was looking for. A large flowery portrait hanging just beyond the fountain. Her head tilts as she looks at it from afar.

‘Pretty… I wonder if I can find a print of it to buy to hang in my living room…’ Her steps remaining slow and cautious until she reaches the fountain. She looks under where the painting hung, trying not to get too close to it. There was no tag or podium that held the artist’s name or any indication that it was an actual art piece. It was most likely some print from a furniture store catalog or Etsy.

Her eyes rolled as she realizes that the listing was another trap. Obviously from someone who didn’t know shit about art or how to buy mercenaries on the black market.

As if on que, her ears buzzed as she heard the pure instinct take over as she whips around. Her hand immediately stops the staff about to hit her in the face as she elbows the smaller opponent in the stomach before slamming her fist in his cheek to knock him back. The guy gets thrown back a couple of feet as he gasped for the air she punches outta him.

She looks to the guy as she twirls his staff absent mindedly in her hand. His costume and smaller physique gave it away as to who he was. She remembers seeing a tv show story about him the previous night on the news. The boy wonder, Robin. At least the third version of him.

“Hey, tweety bird. You good?” She asked in a nonchalant tone. Her eyes unamused as she watches the kid cough up a lung as he looked up at her in shock that she wasn’t attacking him like he expected her to.

“You know, it’s dangerous to be on job listing boards like that.” She scolds him lightly as she walks around him and grabs his arm, gently helping him up and sitting him by the fountain. “There’s actual killers on that board who would have happily tried cutting you up for pulling a shitty fake job like this.”

The sidekick glares at her as he was already confused as he just witness the girl he was sure killed an entire gang just casually scold him. “Like how you did with Black Mask?”

Her eyes flashed with guilt before the nonchalant personality appeared again as she focused on throwing the staff up to make it spin. “It was self defense. He and his gang had it coming for all the child drug peddling and the lives he ruined.”

A heavier drop down of three other figures caught her attention as she looks around. Nightwing, Batgirl, and Red Hood were surrounding the fountain, blocking her in. Her anxiety rising as she hides it with a now playful smile.

“Damn, didn’t realize little old me warranted for the whole family to come get me.” She says playfully. “Don’t worry I promise to be out of y’all’s city soon.”

“You still have to pay for your crimes.” Batgirl says as she steps forwards slightly. The feline mercenary tilts her head as she looks at them with now false concern.

“Me? A defenseless street cat?” She asked before laughing. “You can certainly try.”

Nightwing steps closer as her shoulders square up. Her defensive stance rising as she observes him. Way too lean to be the guy she met, and she can tell his face was more pretty boy looking.

“We wanna help you… but you still have to pay for what you’ve done even if you didn’t mean to.” He says softly.

‘So they know…that just means they are gonna be more defensive instead of offensive. They can’t risk killing me when they know I could rampage again.’ Her eyes shine as she laughs coldly at him.

“Oh, you wanna help me rot in prison?” She says as she finally looks at the Red Hood.

Right build, right height, and she’s sure if she can knock that helmet off, right face. That’s the man she met a week ago that affected her so badly. She knew she couldn’t let him get a good grab on her or she maybe toast.

She turns her now glowing eyes back to Nightwing as she smirks. “I think you would be better off letting me leave or else you can see what I actually do when I mean it.” She bluffs.

Movement nearly catches her off guard as Robin tries to rush her again. The staff in her hand flies into his face as she tries to move as Batgirl flies kicks her in the face. Her ears ring as the warm feeling of blood starts to run out of her nose. The cat catches the bat’s fist before she whips her in the face with another punch. She used the disorienting blow to slide under her legs and give a good kick to her knee. The distinctive pop and her cry lets her know she did dislocate the bone.

She remains in her crouched up position, ready to pounce. She can feel their eyes observing as her broken nose begins to heal as it disgustingly pops back into place as the blood retreats back to its original place like it was on rewind. Her wild eyes looks to them and makes notes of their stances.

Nightwing was ready to pounce on her. He stared at her like she was the wild animal that he knew she was. It was a look she was used to.

The Red Hood wasn’t even in an offensive or defensive position. He stood with his back straight as he watches her. Damn his stupid helmet from seeing his eyes, she wanted to know what he was thinking about. Was he bluffing too or was he trying to get a good feel on how to catch her.

Before Nightwing can start advancing on her, Red stops him with a step forward and raises hand. Nightwing looks confused as he asked him.

“What are you doing?” He seethes to him. “We gotta take her down, she already hurt Robin and Batgirl.”

“Out of self defense.” The Red Hood clarifies before chuckling. His modulated voice making the feline theft frown. “If she was dangerous like you think, she could have sliced Robin’s throat with those claws of hers when he first attacked. You guys were attacking first and she responded with non lethal force.”

Her eyes glared at the man as she stands up, slightly agitated. “So? Maybe I just don’t wanna kill a kid?”

Red tilts his head as he turns his attention to her. “Calm down, Kitty….if you surrender, I promise I won’t let them send you off to the pound.”

Nightwing looks at Red in horror as he basically promised to protect a wanted criminal. He didn’t seem to concerned by it. He even surprises his team by removing his helmet as he looks to the one they were chasing.

“I found your file on Amanda Waller’s network. Took me three days, but I know what she did to you, (Y/N).” The man she knew from the gas station.

The images of all the torture she endured flashed through her mind all at once as she remembers all Waller put her through for the sake of her cure.

Multiple executions to test the powers of the pit. Torture and savage punishments for the slightest disobedience. The nightmares and madness that fueled so many panic attacks. The feeling of her organs stolen to be put in that evil woman so she can use her healing factor to win against cancer while she spent days slowly dying and coming back to life over and over until her new organs regenerated back into her.

“Why?!” She snaps at him as rage filled her again. Her confusion over his insistence to help her made her so angry. Why would he wanna help her? Just because they were both dunked in a pool of Ra’s bath water?

“You’re the feared Red Hood! You’ve done worst shit than I’ve ever done and you are trying to act as my savior?!” She yells at him as she stomps towards him.

Nightwing tries to step between them, but Red keeps him away as she finally stood before him. Her hand rips off her goggles, revealing her face to him as she pokes into his chest. Her own chest tightening as her body shook. Her breath was tight as angry tears rolled down her face.

“Answer me, dammit! Why do you think you can save me?!”

“I don’t think I can save you.” He answers honestly. “I wanna help you save yourself…”

A look of grief passes over his eyes as he looks at the shorter woman. A memory of someone she didn’t know making his resolve strengthen.

“I was trapped in a state of anger for so long that I pushed everyone away that was trying to help me…it wasn’t until I lost the one person that tried to save me that I realized how much it meant to have someone just hold a hand out for me…” He says as he grips her shoulders. The expected coldness didn’t meet her. She felt him. The warmth seeping through his gloves into her suit. It felt…comforting….nice.

Her vision began tunneling as she felt her chest hyperventilating as she cries. His gentle words finally breaking her as he mumbles to her. “Let me help you fight the madness so you won’t be alone anymore…”

Her knees buckling as a sob broke through her. The warmth of his arms wrapping around her and pulling her into his chest made her cries so gut wrenching. Robin, Batgirl, and Nightwing watch in shock as they watched Jason, not only be the most gentle he’s ever been with someone, but see a stray tear fall from him eye.

As the two remained tied together as an unspoken bond was formed. A bond between two lost souls forcibly brought back into this world now feeling safe in each other’s warmth.

+++++++++++++++++++

Author’s Note: I’m gonna make a part 2 to this one because I actually like it. Let me know if you like this, if you hate it, or whatever. I’m trying to clear out my drafts so expect more Jason and other characters coming out either this week or next week.

++++++++++++++++++++

@simpingforheros fanfic. I DO NOT CONDONE THE COPYING, STEALING, OR REPOSTING OF MY FANFICS ON OTHER WEBSITES WITHOUT MY CONSENT.

[mysharona1987]

You know, we can talk about the politics/morality/general uselessness of doing a Harry Potter TV show, but at some point WB and HBO execs are going to have to deal with the fact JK Rowling has become a ranting, raving mad woman.

Maybe they offer her, like, 2 billion dollars to sell the rights, like George Lucas and Star Wars?

But they have to find a way to distance her from this project. Because she’s only getting worse. She tweets about nothing else but trans people these days.

Does she have no hobbies?

[teagballs]

hello angel! I was wondering if you could write a Dennis Reynolds x fem!reader one shot where basically, reader is apart of the gang and has been for a while. Surprisingly, one time when Dennis was really angry, she calmed him down. Everyone was shocked the first, but slowly overtime got used to it. Dennis always ignored the warm feeling in his chest when she calmed him, but when he went on a date and got really mad and the girl tried to calm him down, he got even more angry than realised he liked reader??

sorry if it’s confusing 😭🫶

calmed | dennis reynolds x reader

read part 2 here!!

authors note: HEYOOO still alive. thank u sm for this prompt anon! tbh it was a bit of a challenge and i struggled 😭 i always struggle to write for dennis. i hope i did this idea justice cuz i love it. also this is my first iasip fic im publishing yayayay please send more requests for it im sooo deep into it rn. ive got a dee fic in the works rn.

cw: average dennis insanity ofc, swearing, mentions of D.E.N.N.I.S ing girls so yk, mentions of sex.

fic under the cut!

You can recall the first time you ever saw Dennis freak out.

"Idiots! Fucking idiots all of them!" Dennis ranted in his usual methodic tone. The gang wasn't phased, this sort of Dennis rant was something they'd become accustomed to. For you - the latest addition the gang - you had never witnessed one of Dennis' outbursts. It was probably that empathic nature or yours that made you want to act, to console him. And you did. Despite the gang's protests, once they noticed you about to leap into action. They knew it was better to just let Dennis ride out the anger and come down again. But you reached out and touched his arm. The gang collectively held their breath, expecting Dennis to bark out some obscenities in response, but it never came. The feeling of your hand on him made him turn to face you, to look at you.

"Dennis, it's okay, we'll fix this, I promise."

And he calmed. And took a deep breath.

"You know what? You're right. I can fix this." Dennis exhaled. Everyone was shocked,

"What the fuck just happened." Mac said blankly. In the whole time they had known him, Dennis had never been able to be pacified from one of these insane outbursts.

But then it became frequent, because Dennis's raging was frequent. Every time he would begin ranting and raving, you were able to calm him down. It was a voice of serene amidst the chaos. It went on for years like this, as you became part of the gang.

You were usually there hanging out with the gang when things would go wrong, and you'd be able to solve it and calm him down. But today, that wasn't the case. Today, Dennis was on a date.

Dennis was in the process of getting this woman to sleep with him, his stock procedure. But the date had been falling apart. It first started with his suit getting ruined. After dressing himself up in a nice blazer and shirt outfit, it was massacred by spaghetti after Mac spilt it on top of Dennis. Mac was haphazardly carrying it through their shared kitchen and failed to notice him.

"Christ Mac, what the hell are you doing!"

But that was okay. He could manage. He would just have to change. And although this did delay him, he could still D.E.N.N.I.S this girl. He could just say he was late because he was helping some old lady cross the street or looking after a stray kitten.

After successfully making it out of the door, he began to drive to the date. A cute restaurant not too far from his apartment, a picturesque rendezvous. But this was stalled even further by the lack of parking spaces available. Dennis groaned at threw his head back against the car headrest. After circling the block for what felt like the 100th time, Dennis decided to just park further away and book it to the restaurant. He settled for a tucked away corner of the city. Sure, it was far, but hey, at least it was a space.

Finally, after running to the entrance of the restaurant, he saw his date waiting, arms folded.

"Dennis! There you are! What took you so long?Are you.. okay? You look at a little out of sorts." Cadence spoke.

"Sorry. Sorry. Some old hags cat was- was trying to cross the road. I had to run from the other side of town." Dennis panted. He didn't expect the journey to have made him so debilitated. 'Not a perfect excuse, either. I might have messed up the wording..' he thought.

Dennis and his date, Cadence finally entered the restaurant. Dennis regained most of his breath and approached the host.

"Reynolds, table for two." He told the host.

The host scanned their notebook with a pen and searching eyes.

"Sorry, sir, I don't see anything for Reynolds here. Are you sure you booked for this restaurant?" The host replied. They lacked any kind of care for the situation, replying in a detached tone. Most likely years of working customer service had drained them.

"Am I sure I booked for- do you think I'm some kind of bumbling buffoon? Of course I fucking did!" Dennis snarled. Seemingly the frustrations from the evening were overflowing and spilling out.

"What do you take me for some kind of idiot!?" Dennis continued to bawl.

At this point, his date was getting embarrassed of his uncontrolled emotions. Cadence leaned in and touched his forearm. And maybe if it wasn't Dennis Reynolds she had performed this action on, it could have worked and soothed him.

"Dennis its okay, we can go eat somewhere else if you want?"

Immediately Dennis shook her grip off him.

"If I want? Why would I want to eat somewhere else when I made a fucking reservation here. What I want is to eat here!" He snapped, tapping his finger on the hosts notebook.

"Dennis, it's okay. We will do whatever you want." Cadence tried again.

"What I want? What I want is... well, what would you know about fixing shit! You're just..! Well, you're not.. not." Oh. And that's when it hit him.

What Dennis wanted now was not a reservation at this pseudo-rich restaurant. And he knew he certainly didn't want Cadence to try and comfort him. Her words didn't seem to hold any mindfulness or meaning... but yours did. She wasn't you. What he wanted was you. That's all he ever wanted. Everything else he had been doing for was a pathetic search to fill the void. The women he was trying to do, D.E.N.N.I.S, the dates he'd go on, the sex he would have, it all meant nothing.

All he wanted was you. A pure undivided love and something he had never felt before. Dennis had an unprofound realisation that he liked someone. Something most come to grips with in adolescents. But for him, that realisation was something he had never had. It made his heart ache and burn. He needed to act. He needed to call you and spill his heart out. Because no one was like you, and that's all he could think about as he turned on his heel and left the restaurant.

[celaenaeiln]

Heck speaking of that last ask, whose to say even for Dick’s more professional and cordial moments with those outside his family or closest allies, whose to say those aren’t a front to mask his more serious and strategic cunning to through those other people off guard if they’re suspected of doing bad?

I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU ASKED THAT BECAUSE YOU'RE SPOT ON!!!!

This actually happens in canon but this time it's within the family.

In Batman and Robin Eternal the whole Batfamily is forced to a clean up a lethal mess that Bruce wasn't able to solve during his and Dick's days. Their opponent is a woman named "Mother" for which she is aptly named because her brilliance and manipulation were so high that Bruce was forced to admit defeat, unable to deal with her.

During the investigation, the rest of the batfamily is blissfully unaware of Tim's actions, histories, and secrets-except Dick.

While leaving the rest of the family in the dark to avoid raising suspicions, he goes to get some answers.

Of course he would never betray his family's trust without some evidence.

While Jason and Stephanie are busy yelling at each other, Tim quietly sneaks away to answer a call by "Mother." Dick is at the Drake's while this is happening thus indicating that both Dick and Tim have their own share of secrets and battle plans.

He asks questions about Tim to his parents as if he's never met Tim before. Someone should get this man an Oscar.

Of course everything goes to hell when an operative of Mother's shows up and starts firing at Dick. Tim's mom utters a codeword that isolates her and Jack and also notifies Tim. Dick neutralizes his opponent.

And then Tim shows up.

"It's your secrets, Tim. I respected your privacy. Never looked too close, until that became a luxury I couldn't afford...I thought you weren't one of Mother's children. Hoped you weren't. But I had to know."

While Tim is rightfully hurt, but the thing is-they can't trust anyone right now because Mother, their enemy, is inseparable from the batfamily. She gets into people's heads and uses them as operatives over their entire lifetimes from childhood to adulthood. And first and foremost, Dick is a detective. It's ingrained into him to identify any threat and act accordingly.

This scene is extremely important because Bruce was almost killed by Mother and Dick loves Bruce. For his part Bruce almost killed their world just so Dick could live and reversely, Dick would do anything to make sure Bruce was safe.

But here's where Dick's manipulation and cheerful demeanor come into play. The batfamily has no idea how good Dick is at manipulating people.

When Dick runs off to do this, they only say

They have no idea.

Dick never does anything without a plan, a backup, and a safety net. The only mistake in their understanding is that while they think that Dick looks for a safety net second, they don't know that Dick's already created his own net and the one they see is the one Dick tossed out to his allies when he needs them to catch him.

Even now, Tim only found out because his mom activated the alarms in his house. If Dick's enemy hadn't blasted in and opened fire at him then it's suffice to say that everyone would be none the wiser about his little side quest.

I don't think the batfamily will ever realize how cunning he is. They see him as a kind older brother who is too adherent to Bruce's rules. Afterwards Jason makes fun of Tim in an older brother way by implying if he's mad at his mommy lol.

The DC vs Vampires and why every single member of the family was blindsided was because they underestimated him and never expected it of him. That's how good of a manipulator Dick is and that is why they will never know.

Tim once said Dick was "ranting and raving" in Arkham during Future State but for someone who had supposedly lost his mind, he still was the reason they defeated the government and came out on top. Future State: Nightwing is a peak example of Dick's genius when it comes to controlling people even if it seems like lunacy from the outside.

Everyone sees him as the nice one and Dick is the nice one of the family but when his family's life comes into danger he will unearth any secrets that he let you have in order to keep them safe.

So basically he'll let you do anything: keep secrets, lie to him, ignore him, but if you endanger his family he is coming for you because as the song lyrics goes-

"I may be next to you but you don't know I'm undercover."

And that is what makes his character so excellent. The greatest spy and threat the good has ever had.

This is my favorite personality trait of his because he's the James Bond and Mata Hari of DC.

[ragsy]

OC Masterlist (in alphabetical order)

Monster of the Week:

🐕 Dogmark (Mark "Dogmark" Stevens) (he/him)

A normal human guy in his late twenties/early thirties who got cursed to be a cannibalistic dogman. Extremely socially anxious, very fight-or-flight driven, struggling to come to terms with his monstrosity. Currently an NPC in an active game.

Tag: #oc dogmark | Visual reference

📚 Emily Song (she/her)

A real type-A woman in her thirties. She has a degree and a job and a fiancé and a dad (Kenneth) who went missing five years ago and suddenly reappeared out of nowhere, ranting and raving about having been in some bizarre surreal other world. She doesn't believe in the supernatural. She thinks he needs help. Currently an NPC in an active game.

Tag: #oc emily | Visual reference

🚬 Everett (any pronoun, but defaults to he/him)

Some manner of immortal smoke demon in a human vessel, using his powers of influence over people to grow his Youtube channel and Twitch audience. He doesn't want your soul, he just wants your impressionable teen's expendable income. Not currently in any active games.

Tag: #oc everett

🐟 Fishwoman (Diane Fishwoman) (she/her, it/its)

An emotionally constipated humanoid fish person (age unknown) who spends her free time daydrinking and stealing things. She's friends with benefits with Sloane, though she'd never admit to how much the "friends" component of that means to her. Not currently in any active games.

Tag: #oc fishwoman | Visual reference

🚪 Kenneth Song (Uncle Kenny) (he/him)

A goofy, soft-hearted widower and retired dentist (age 65) who recently escaped a five year internment in a liminal horror dimension called the Other Place. Trying his best to reconnect with his adult daughter. Currently in an active MOTW game (Searcher playbook)

Tags: #oc kenneth, #vistas from the other place | Visual reference | Playlist (YouTube version)

🍂 Mary Song (she/her)

A level-headed and analytical Voice of Reason, as well as a middlingly talented spellcrafter. She died suddenly at age 32, survived by her husband (Kenny) and daughter (Emily), and has been haunting their respective narratives ever since.

Tag: #oc mary

🔫 Sloane (Agent Hill) (she/her)

A broad-shouldered tough-as-nails action butch. Makes her living doing field missions, getting monsters and other supernatural beings out of sight. She has a curse on her left arm that's slowly spreading to the rest of her body, but she hasn't told anyone besides her immediate superiors about it. Despite her hard exterior, she's got a warm heart that genuinely cares about the people she protects. NPC in a defunct campaign, currently planned to be a PC in an upcoming campaign, Professinal playbook.

Tag: #oc sloane | Visual reference

Dungeons and Dragons

✨ Arjibi (Arji the Fool) (he/him, they/them)

Farmboy turned stage magician turned adventurer! He's a sweet silly boy with big expressive eyes and too much joy for his twinky body. Also, statistically speaking, he's your friend now. Dragonborn sorcerer (draconic heritage). Currently in two separate active campaigns.

Tag: #oc arjibi | Visual reference | Defunct inspo blog: @arjibi-time

👊 Carex (she/her)

Aarakocra monk, way of mercy. Looks like a secretary bird because she's really good at kicking the shit out of people. Currently in an active campaign, but she's not really as much a character to roleplay as she is a tool to use in combat.

Tag: #oc carex

🤖 M.A.G. (Mechanical Autonomous Guardsman, aka Maggie or Mags) (it/its)

Once a mindless patrol construct, now mysteriously gifted with self awareness and holy powers. It's driven by duty to protect others first, and curiosity second. It's learning how to be a person! A little bit like a cross between Big Bird and Levi Scavengersreign. Warforged Paladin, oath of the crown. Currently in an active campaign.

Tag: #oc maggie | Visual reference

🧪 Professor Dewlap (Finneas Carlton Dewlap) (he/him)

Mad scientist. Cantankerous old bitch. Blew himself to smithereens in a freak lab accident, currently climbing his way back out of the afterlife to resume whatever the hell he was working on. Has actually died many times before, but this is the first time his now recently divorced ex husband hasn't been there to revivify him. Dragonborn artificer. Currently in an active campaign!

Tag: #oc professor dewlap

⚔ Sir Dillion (Sir Dillion Fontaine Sargasso) (he/him)

Chivalrous medieval knight in shining armor with a fish for a head. Broad of chest, kind of heart, dumb of ass. Triton fighter (cavalier subclass), campaign completed!

Tag: #oc sir dillion | Visual references

Miscellaneous

🦎 Lizardsona (any pronoun)

This is literally just my fursona. Some sort of lizardy muppetty creature.

Tag: #lizardsona | Visual references

🐲 Marginalia (Marge) (any pronoun)

A medieval scribe's drawing of a dragon, come to life. Also sort of a quasi-fursona, though I don't use them very often.

Tag: #oc marginalia | Visual references

[senka-mesecine]

can you make a headcanon of what the platoon boys would be like if they had a very jealous girlfriend?

---

― As I frequently say, post-war and pre-war Chris Taylor? Possibly two completely two different people with two completely different reactions, which is to say, pre-war Chris might react to your jealousy, especially if it's unfounded, by defending himself and arguing his case and innocence, feeling impassioned about being wrongly accused. He is worried, he is concerned and he's stunned, a bit like a deer caught in the headlights. Pretty normal and to be expected, right? Well, post-war Chris could very well might glare at you with what could only be called a thousand yard stare. He's there introspectively pondering who or what was the cause of the jealousy you're accusing him of as you rant and rave at him. He's weighing if he should do something this. About them. However this 'them' is. If it's mad to retaliate. If he's mad for even contemplating it. He's thinking death. He's thinking blood. Carnage. The places his brain takes him to scare him to an extent. He feels like he's in hell and he's slipping ever further away. Even if he doesn't seem it, it's genuinely recommended to thread lightly with Chris because your jealousy might have him doing things.

― Red thrives off of having a jealous and domineering girlfriend and while he might occasionally complain how inherently territorial you are (the complaining part being in heavily emphasized brackets and possibly a bit overblown by O'Neill himself) he's actually covertly doing it to show off and flaunt the fact he has a woman crazy enough about him to be slightly unhinged. Sure, he plays this irritating downtrodden part role at times on purpose but it's actually a tactical effort to not only subtly remind the men he has a woman in the first place but that she also has, as he calls it, the O'Neill fever that's making her do coo-coo things because she's coo-coo about him. Everyone's caught on to this after a while and they either react with silence to his Red's rambling or they roll their eyes at him and his tall tales because they're extremely dubious of their overall truthfulness and validity. Would be entirely plausible if you weren't the jealous sort at all and O'Neill simply told everyone you are to amp up his own desirability status.

― If Bunny doesn't legitimately have a jealous, overbearing girlfriend he might just lie that he has purely to spin a faux-narrative and brag in the vein of Raquel Welch was possessive of me after we hooked up at an USO show; the very fact he genuinely has a jealous girlfriend he doesn't even need to fabricate or just downright make up to irritate people? Jesus Chris. Nobody's gonna hear the end of it. He thinks it's hot. He also doesn't let people forget it, possibly going to the extent of being exhibitionistic about it even though admittedly people have to wonder what kind of crazy bitch would be with Bunny in the first place and get in deep enough with him be the covetous sort. Someone like Junior fears imagining you which, inherently, Bunny adores. He adores the fact that people visualize you as a man eating gorgon that spits fire and shoots lasers out of her eyes. The notion gives him a hard-on just like your jealous nature generally does with little to no effort. He loves this crap.

― Rhah might think it's in women's nature to be like this, the Eves, the Salomes, the Jezebels and the Delilahs of this world. They're jealous and they tend to suck your soul dry. Can't live with them and can't live without them. He sincerely contemplates tattooing that on his body next somewhere to match his 'Love' and 'Hate' fist ink because this is a notion he profoundly believes in. That being said, he plays into it theatrically. Lets it happen. Fuels it in ways. You accuse him of something and he accuses you back and before you know it, in the whirlwind grip of this mutual back and forth you're in each other's faces arguing and then seconds later, someone's tongue might be down someone's throat and you might be on the verge of passionately hatefucking. If you're temperamental, he's temperamental. If you're a envy filled bitch, he's an envy filled bastard that goes toe to toe with you. If you come apologizing, he de-escalates just as well. But, in any case, your match is met in Vermucci. Oh, is it ever.

― Wolfe's extremely apologetic when met with your jealousy, like he's constantly messing up and doing something wrong somehow, horrendously eager to please you and when you have a wave of envy spat out at him? He might just stand there, shocked and a bit lost, letting you have it, because he's not sure how he got into this predicament in the first place. He's a bit of a wet sock in that regard. Probably doesn't really know how to handle it like someone slightly in over his head, leading to him overexplaining himself to you and even when he tries to establish an upper hand in authority and quell your envy, he undoubtedly fails. That being said, there's a slightly bit of shock that not only does he have you but that you're constantly here thinking some other figurative women are out here wanting him too. It bothers him until the other men get wind of it and start talking about it. For a brief blip he feels like the biggest Casanova of all Casanovas out there even if he might pretend otherwise.

― Do y'all even love each other if nobody's ever jealous of nobody, an entertained, smiling King might ask? A question for the ages. Because that's his overall view of the issue. He might get weirdly philosophical about it, not at all that bothered by your jealousy but rather seeing it as a byproduct of you being down bad for him. Heck, he might be pretty damn worried if you weren't jealous at all because to him that would mean you've got some sincerely cold feet about you and him and that you just don't care anymore. So, god bless your jealousy while it lasts and may it last a good, long time, baby! He's exalted about it on occasion, sharing anecdotes on the issue with genuine joy and high energy (undoubtedly detailing the make-up sex that follows), sometimes having the habit of shaking his head and legitimately exhaling loud like you're a handful, but geez, you're his handful. In any case, King's pretty elated where anything connected to you is concerned, even if it's your green faced envy.

― The one person that doesn't like your jealousy out of the bunch is Elias himself; a rare example in this platoon. Sure, if it's the casual type of reaction on your part, he could tease, he could be good natured about it, he could prod and poke and joke on the matter, he could be extremely tolerant and even sweet, reassuring, understanding, he could be playful, but if your jealousy is something oppressive and genuinely confounding, throwing a dark cloud over the whole entirety of everything you two have together, Grodin will confront you about it instead of fueling it or take advantage of it. He will sort it out and get to the bottom of it because to him this is a sign of a much larger issue that he wants to clear up, showing you an unprecedented bit of strictness and he might come off as slightly preachy as he talks to you about this but he genuinely has the healthiest and most empathic approach of the bunch, quelling your doubts. You're only hurting yourself with this and he doesn't wanna see you hurt.

― You're severely outmatched here because whatever your capacity of jealousy might be, Barnes's is always going to be bigger and more encompassing to the point that your own jealousy might be met with quiet stoicism on his part or during the good days? It is met with downright amusement. Yes, he's amused when you rant, rave, when you're broody, when you're moody, when you express a sense of possessiveness, because when he's jealous? He kills. He threatens. He harms. He retaliates. There will be blood. A jealous Barnes is a monster. There's actual consequences to his envy and they're often fatal in nature to the degree yours almost seems like a child's jealousy in comparison and he lets said covetousness of yours simply happen and pass like something that's merely a reality that follows all relationships and that realistically goes away after a while. He's weirdly level headed and mature concerning the issue. Cocky, yes. But, you've never seen what real jealousy is and you pray to God he never shows you.

[suicidalgamergirl]

Long Chapter Is Long

TW: Language

****

YEARS AGO

She was walking down the street with Ken. Ken didn’t like her trying to walk next to him and holding hands.

Like couples do.

Ken demanded her to always walk with her head hanging low. He told her that she may scare unwilling children with her disgusting facial features. Scaring them to believe that monsters really do exist in this world.

But this is what a boyfriend does. She should be happy.

Right?

Ken then whistled at a hot chick that was walking aside on the other sidewalk. He looked back at Nessa.

“You know,” Ken stated, “you should ditch the pink dye and go for a bleach blonde. That way, no one will mistake you for a fat dyke.”

A chuckle was across his lips.

“You’re probably not hot enough to attract those people anyways,” Ken said, “just stick with me. I’m the only one who knows your dirty secret. Wouldn’t want your family to know their daughter is a whore.”

Ness just slowly nodded her head at him. Ken smirked.

”Good Girl,” Ken commented at her obedience, “perhaps you’ll finally give me a good lay.”

The two started to head home. He enjoyed having Ness wrapped around his fingers, letting her drop everything for him, and never leaving his side.

There was no way this relationship could backfire.

Right?

****

There’s a vampire on her bed.

Red faced, flustered with embarrassment. The vampire could pick up her pulse as she felt nervous around him.

Her parents are going to arrive later today to give her a new phone and hope for her to get a new phone plan for it.

There’s a vampire on her bed.

She stated she wasn’t afraid of him. It seemed he ignored her and he went back to flip pages of her journal from a crazed white woman.

There’s a vampire on her bed.

Oh god. How is she going to tell her parents when they see this porcelain skinned gentleman with a proper fashion sense roaming around in her apartment?

Well mom, I was trying to get a bat to solve my mosquitoes problem. Turns out said bat is a fucken vampire.

Just the mention of a vampire would be reasonable doubt that you’re insane, Nessie. She can pictured herself in a padded room and wearing a straight jacket, as her family signs her rights’ away. She’ll be a permanent client in the mental hospital ward, constantly ranting and raving about that fucken vampire on her bed.

****

Astarion looks up from the journal, amused and intrigued as the woman turns red and becomes panicky. He can hear her pulse beating faster, and see that her mind is racing.

He puts the journal to one side and looks at her.

"Don't worry darling,” he said as he was looking at her, “I ask before I bite."

He smiles as gently as he can at her, not wanting her to become more worked up.

As he speaks, Nessie is surprised to hear his voice is actually quite soft and friendly, not at all what she expected from a vampire.

He does not seem to be anything like the vampires she has read about.

Astarion gestures at a chair in the room. "Why don't you take a seat darling, and tell me what has got you all upset?"

Her face changes to one of shock. He is asking her to take a seat in her own room? And he wants her to talk?

She is not sure what to make of this. He seems to be asking her to tell him why she is upset. Is he mad? Isn't it obvious? He is in her room, uninvited reading her journal. Although, yes, she did make a bat house to help her insecurities and did research on bats too, she did not know he was a vampire obviously. She isn't that stupid.

And what about her parents? What is she going to tell them?

She finds herself walking to the chair and sitting on it, shaking. There was so much tension between the two of them.

Not to mention, her birthday was tomorrow.

Regardless of this intruder, this was her place. She had to plead her case.

Otherwise it’s back to the mental ward with you. Some birthday gift, right?

Gotta keep a straight poster. Holding onto the box cutter, she turned her head to stare at her intruder. Have confidence.

“Look,” Nessa stated as her hands were clutching the box cutter, “we’re both consenting adults. I made that bat house because I had issues with mosquitoes. It’s foolish of me to try to use you in your bat form for my own personal gain. I apologize. For once, I thought I gained a cute pet, a fluffy white bat that needed comfort and spoiling.”

He noticed some small streams of tears running down her eyes. He pondered whom or what had made her feel this hurt. Such a plump woman shouldn’t be harming herself, as he saw her write in her journal. He then noticed the bandage wraps on her arms. They were wrapped in the same gauze he picked up from her trash bin earlier.

Nessa then stretched out her right bandaged arm towards said vampire.

“I know you’re a vampire,” Nessa said with her arm shaking a bit, “my parents will arrive in the late afternoon. It’s best if you drink from me and use said blood as strength to get yourself out of my apartment. I can’t jeopardize my freedom if you stay here.”

That’s right. Humans tend to assume that vampires like him were always needing blood, the essence of living creatures. Her body language was reflecting the pain she wrote in her journal. She wanted to protect him, despite him being a quite powerful vampire ascendant.

She is a very brave woman. Not even the vampire hunters that confronted him showed such bravery towards him. She is quite an interesting human.

“Darling,” he stated as he rose from the bed, “you do not need to do this. Though, I shall take my leave. Perhaps, you can clear your mind after your parents’ visit.”

He wanted to learn more about this human, but he will respect her wishes.

For now.

Opening her window, he used his dark vampiric powers to morph into said fluffy white bat. He flew out of her room and into the city.

She watched the creature. Red flustered face. He is quite an interesting character.

For a vampire.

Now she had to prepare for her parents’ arrival.

****

Ken and Katsy were walking down the street as a lovely couple that were enjoying the city.

Perhaps a little too much. Someone was walking the opposite direction and was going to walk into the couple.

They accidentally bumped into each other.

“Hey, watch it!” Ken cried out as he was being brushed aside from his girl.

Katsy was in starry eyes as she saw the peckish young gentleman, with porcelain skin tone, grayish curls, deep crimson eyes, and pointy ears that was standing in front of the couple.

“Oooh,” Katsy began as she slipped herself onto the gentleman, “never seen one of those dorky LARPers being as hot as you.”

Ken looked at the gentleman, getting kinda pissed off that his girl was latching herself on a new man.

The gentleman looked at him and just smirked. He knew this was the person that had an X marked on his face in the journal he read. How wonderful.

“How about you and me go exploring my dungeon?” Katsy asked as she stayed near the gentleman, “I’m sure my dragon will behave.”

Ken then saw his girl being wooed by another man. This made him realize that this is how he acted when he was with Nessie whenever they went on a date together.

“Get your hands off her, you pasty pale pointy ear freak!!” Ken yelled at the gentleman. He shoved Katsy off of him, much to her disappointment.

She booed at Ken as she got herself together.

“What’s you gotta do?!” Ken asked as he was gonna fight this well behaved gentleman, “Cat got your tongue?!”

The gentleman revealed a set of fangs. Without realizing the danger Ken was about to be in, the gentleman moved so quickly and dug his fangs into Ken’s throat. Ken went limp. His tough facade faded while the gentleman feasted on him, blood gushing from the piercing of Ken’s neck with his fangs.

Katsy screamed and started to run off. The freakishly pale gentleman was a monster.

Satisfied with his meal, he dropped Ken onto the ground. He realized that the woman who saved his ass as a bat will no longer have a need to worry about Ken anymore. No longer will she have the urge to harm herself and make new scars on her arms.

The board left Ken, trying to save her own ass. No matter. Humans are such idiots at times.

Liking his lips to get the blood off his lips, he felt Ken made a decent meal…

For a horrible human.

Bloodlust racked his brain. Now he should have taken the offer of drinking Nessie’s blood. She wasn’t a virgin, but someone who was offering themselves to him, not as a sexual favor, made him realize how pure she is. Made him think she needed protection from him. Such a brave human she is.

[eretzyisrael]

by Seth Mandel

Bruguera is—quite famously, though her name is a hint—a Cuban dissident. The Palestinian protesters got in her face and called her “gringa.” They called one of the gallery’s directors, Sam Bardaouil, who is Lebanese, “an Arab with light skin.” In other words, Germans were seeing the familiar sight of anti-Semites marching through town calling anyone with Jewish friends or colleagues a “race traitor.” Onlookers were horrified to see the ghosts of Germany’s past reappear wearing keffiyehs instead of jackboots.

Easily the most pathetic part of the play stoppage was when Bruguera tried to defend her honor. I cringed watching it, and I cringed again while writing this. “First of all, you don’t know who I am,” Bruguera shouts at the protesters after a while. “You don’t know my history. You don’t know everything I’ve done for Palestinians and for all the people in the world.”

The clashing of tectonic-plate-sized egos, white people yelling at Cubans that they’re white—it might as well as have been Park Slope instead of Berlin.

Of course, Bruguera signed an open letter calling Israel’s counteroffensive in Gaza a “genocide.” But she was out of her league here, among professional anti-Semites. The protesters went on a stark-raving-mad rant about the lesser humanity of “Zionists” (meaning people with Jewish-sounding names) and the legitimacy of violence toward them while this poor woman was reduced to asking them if they had a gun and were going to shoot her. For that, Bruguera was deemed a racist.

The icing on the cake is that before the performance opened, Bruguera gave an interview to the The Art Newspaper’s podcast, “The Week in Art.” In it, the host and Bruguera went on at length about how this is such an appropriate time to read Hannah Arendt because of how Germany censors anyone who criticizes Israel. Bruguera went so far as to say that Chinese dissident Ai Weiwei’s ridiculous comment that censorship in the West is the same as in Mao’s China didn’t go far enough. “I think it’s worse” than in Mao’s China, Bruguera asserts, because “the censorship in China was [at least] condemned by the world.”

[tauforged]

i was digging back in my photo library and found a video from a few years back when i worked at p*tco where i was so mad about a customer experience that i’d had that i recorded myself ranting and raving about it in the car while i drove home and in retrospect it is fuxking hilarious but it’s too damn long for me to upload on here i’m so mad. it’s like two twenty minute videos of me losing my god damn mind about this one woman who was just batshit crazy and really wanted some goldfish

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

L M F A O

No see I do know exactly who you are and that little paragraph of you ranting and raving proves it there bud and let me take a page from your friends book you got any actual proof about me and your claims? Nah didnt think so and if you are mad about what I've allegedly done to a punk bitch nazi racist whom he chose to interact with me 1st calling me all kinds of slurs and nonsense over a tumblr comment and his loser friends one of which is a groomer living off a trust fund that continues to stalk people after 2 years and a woman still since 2017 then your even more a whiny cunt retard than the rest 🤭 enjoy being the biggest loser on tumblr queen 👍

But that discord proved more than anything. You wanna take the high road sooooo bad but again you're just like the rest and deluded yourself into thinking that anybody values your opinion or actually cares about what you have to say, you think you're really going to change the world from your tumblr.com posts. You're bad "satire" at best. Also fuck you and yes I'm going to stay on anon bc i know how your creepy friends are. If you don't like it turn off anons and block this anon ya substanceless twerp 🤫🤭

How funny is it though that you all scream for anarchism and law of land and Etc but then continue to pitch and whine about stuff that I've supposedly done it just makes you all look like a bunch of dumbass hypocrites that just want to take their ball home or play completely different game than anybody else. It's almost like y'all are hypocrites or rules for the not for me type of people.

Either way I don't really know you don't really care to know you it's amazing you actually have that much invested into all this seeing as I don't even know who you are here but let me live rent free in your head and then you'll post this and your friends will get all pissy and I'll continue winning and laughing.

Wipe your chin sweetie you tried your very best uwu.

Yeah I'm not reading that. It's enough to know something I said got you super pressed, XD

[dylawa]

“New group in Block F. Jewelry store robbery. Comet of all heroes got ‘em.” Takeshi can’t help but look down and away so he can smile in peace, while the other prisoners scoff in scorn. “I hate hearing her name more and more,” a bigger man-- Takeshi knows him as Nishi Naganori-- pouts. “Wish she’d just go back to the rescue stuff.” “After Geneva, I don’t think that will be happening anytime soon.” Several men grumble. Geneva had been a big deal in the prison-- the whole world, really. Emergency Alert Systems were set off in every country, and the guards didn’t bother to keep quiet what was going on on that day, when they themselves were so fearful for their lives. It was madness that day; two escape attempts took place-- none of which were successful, but it was definitely a new record for the prison. Even when the Matter Paradox had been destroyed, there was still unrest until all of the details about what took place were finally released. Seibei waits for everyone around him to settle down before continuing. “One of the men-- their leader, is the assumption-- was ranting and raving to the police and the guards all the way to his cell about the heroine. That it was ridiculous a woman with her Quirk could handle five armed robbers on her own-- stupid-- that it was suspicious All Might was so close by to be her deus ex machina… and that he was not lying, that there was a ring on the Shooting Star Heroine’s finger.” That sends the men into a clamor, and Takeshi leans in a little closer with a quirked brow. “A ring? Go to hell! They just got together!”

"Having Lived and Loved" B-Sides is a mini-series that will explore the lives of side characters in the All Might/OC|Reader Insert series "Having Lived and Loved." For the first chapter, we will be checking in with an old friend-- or enemy, depending on your perspective.

[visibleclosedeyes]

Violence of Passion

Warning: non-con, dub-con

Pairings: Devin, beholder of death x female tarnished

———————

There are several types of passions, all of which could lead to several outcomes—love, sorrow, suffering, and all other mixes of good, bad, and the in-between. At the deepest depth—the forsaken platform filled with complicated cross work of roots and destroyed nameless stone infrastructure, the fire at the pit of her heart was lit like the ever-forever burning of the fell fire. It shouldn’t be possible; this place was far beyond forsaken; it was sullied with death in every way imaginable—this place is cold. Yet still, the little tarnished felt buzzing heat inside her as the scene unfolded in front of her.

She woke up sometime later from the battle dream with the Lich Dragon Fortisaxx—physically unharmed but mentally fucked up. Immediately, she collapsed again after witnessing Fia ‘give birth to a mending rune. The tarnished claimed it just for the sake of it, and then—with the heavyweight power of the mending rune of death prince, she went unconscious.

And that is where she is now, woken up by the sound of a man speaking. The tarnished slowly rises as she gains back her lucidity—and then she sees it; hears it—all of it—as the fire in her gut consumes her very soul

“…this is a proper death, O Prince!” A man, who she met and remembered, who she handed over his brother’s armor as the last remaining heirloom back a while at the Nokron aqueduct, is currently triumphantly standing over Fia's gutted dead body. His sword, which tarnished did not remember, seemed to be intertwined with silver and gold now tainted with the red substance of the deathbed companion. His lunatic raving continues, each line progressively getting darker and darker.

“Look at this rotten whore! No more children can be got from this useless flesh! Behold, your mother is dead,” He rants, followed by a bone-chilling snickering that is filled with nothing but a twisted amusement of satisfying revenge. The laugh is so cold the Tarnished could practically receive frostbite from it–yet, her heart is immediately racing. Somehow, for her, it was boiling inside of her chest. She does not see his face, but his words paint a pretty–and horrifying–picture of Devin smiling the whole time, drowning head-first into his very own madness.

“Devin...?” the quiet and exhausted voice of the Tarnished snaps him out of his little world. From his behind, where she is standing, it seems like her voice causes him to stop breathing for a few seconds as if he was a child getting caught torturing an animal.

“Ah, Hello,” He says after collecting himself. The voice is clearer than minutes ago, but the lunacy in his breath is still there; unpunishable from his very demeanor. Still, he tries his best not to scare the little Tarnished.

“The Golden order is to remain unsullied…Now, I can finally look at my brother in the eyes, without any regrets…” Devin does not turn around to face you as he knows his very state of himself very well. He wished he could hold it from you, wished you would be a lot more of a heavy sleeper. Ah, it does not matter now, does it? Devin thinks to himself. When he faces her, she is stunned—unsure of what to make out of the scene. The hubris was horrifying, but darkly; feels deserved and satisfying—at least that must have been what Devin feels at the moment. The Tarnished doesn’t know what to make of Fia and her unfortunate bloody end—she doesn’t hate the woman but the fact that she assassinated Darian was enough for the Tarnished not to weep. Forget Fia. She is more worried about the man that had sort of lost it in front of her–Devin lowers his sword of brilliant gold and silver intertwined as it touches the ground–the residue of deathblight corruption disperses. It is a gift that is given from one generation of believers and passed down to the newer generation–even as the golden order has fallen deep into the abyss of irrelevancy. Like a droplet of water seeping into the sand upon contact, the blood rot at the tip of his blade disappears into the ground both of them stand on–and for a short moment, the tarnished swears she could see small thorn of deathblight springs to life before dies down once again. Devin crooks his head aside, he is observing the tarnished now.

Well, she is afraid now of what he will do to her next, she is partially responsible for his brother's death after all. Devin seems to be thinking about this as well, he doesn’t say anything when he starts circling the exhausted tarnished.

As if he is a wolf and she is a rabbit.

An inquisitor examining a heretic subject.

“I could kill you for what you have let happen at the roundtable hold. I think you deserved a painful end from my blade,” He points his sacred blade to her, its tip still soaking in the blood slowly grazing her skin. The tarnished knows she can’t die, but she also knows she can still feel pain, and unlike other enemies whose killing is somewhat of a chore or automatic response–this man will certainly make it painful. So naturally, the tarnished shudders in fear–she doesn’t even know when did she sit down on the ground but now she is craning her neck to see the slightly deranged man

When he stops in front of her, it seems like he has already made up his mind about something. Devin closes the gap between them, he cups her lower jaw with his hand forcing her to face his gaze.

“Maybe there is at least one use of you,” He hums

“Open your mouth,” The tarnished heard his command and her mind raced in panic

Is he going to…?

No, that…can’t be. No.

She denies her conviction like a deluded person, only to be proven wrong in a heartbeat. Devin doesn’t give any warning when he pulls out his stiffened member and rests it across the tarnished sickly pale face. It…is huge. She doesn’t expect this–as she isn’t a sick fuck who thinking about sex and cock when she saw a distraught man. The ashen-blonde man, on the other hand, is–the fact that he got hard…

“How?! How did you even get a hard-on…?” The tarnished protests with shock and disbelief. In this Deeproot Depth, it is just nothing but a decaying environment and ghosts all swallowing and lost into the dark—and the eerie bell sound from the mausoleum as well. The point is there is no way he…

“ I have been thinking about you, as I dive my blade into that bitch witch’s chest—her scream begging to spare you. It got me thinking about you and what I will do to you after the witch has perished,” the man says with a slight hint of madness in his voice.

“You have caused my brother his precious life, but you also…have done good things—for me at the very least. You give back the remnant of Darian, you bring back his blade and armor. You lead me unknowingly to the deeproot depth where I can take revenge for him,”

“ So, I won’t kill you,” Devin sounds full of himself as if he is a god who gazes upon mortals and decides to spare their worthless pathetic life. In his deranged mind, he did something nice to her by not torturing her to death over and over again.

“ Open your mouth and use it on my cock,” His voice sounds too casual as he commands her to give him oral service.

“You are fucking disgusting, I shouldn’t have help…uhm!” The tarnished voice is cut off prematurely as Devin suddenly shoves his length into her mouth. The sudden large manhood brings her into tears, it doesn’t hurt her as much but his cock is so large that she is struggling to allow the air in through her nose.

“Use your mouth not your voice slut,” his snickers filled with lust and dark intentions. Despite being forced, she can’t deny that his length feels…rather good. As the man forces her to go all the way to his base, her nostrils come to rest on his crotch. He smells…very pleasant, somehow after all that carnage, even with him wearing that used-up armor.

Devin’s leftover passion is burning ever brighter now that his cock is in her mouth. Snickering as the madman he is, her mouth is used like nothing but a lowly sex toy. Devin uses his free hand to grab her head–making her go faster and faster, disregarding her need for air. Then, his rope of cum shoots straight into the back of her throat without any warning. The tarnished closes her eyes as her tears start falling down from her cheeks. Dizziness makes it hard for her to compute what is happening. She tries to not swallow but Devin’s hand forces her head to keep still so she doesn’t have any choice.

“It seems like you still have some use in you,” Devin speaks as he grips a handful of her hair and forces her to look at him.

[miraruinada]

LUCERO HAVING GRANJA-LEVEL MADNESS IMPLIES THAT GRANJA IS ACTUALLY AN EXTREMELY INSANE PERSON WHOSE CRAZED RANTS ENDED UP BECOMING THE CORNERSTONE FOR MOST OF WHAT THE MODERN WORLD IS BUILT UPON.

WHICH ENDS UP BEING TRUE IF YOU LOOK AT HIS YOUNGER SELF, THE WOMAN WHOSE TALKS WITH OTHERS WAS EXPLAINED AS 'I DON'T KNOW IF HE IS A GENIUS THE WORLD HAD NEVER SEEN BEFORE OR THE RAVINGS OF A MADWOMAN' AND WAS LOCKED IN AN ASYLUM FIVE TIMES BEFORE PUBLISHING HIS FIRST BOOK AND PLOTTED TO HIJACK A REVOLUTION TO DESTROY THE WORLD (BECAUSE HE WAS BORED AND WANTED TO SEE HOW HISTORY WOULD UNFOLD).

[blackleopardgirl]

This is scary

I understand being without friends, and feeling so down but for these men to be angry at ONLY women is fucking insane to me! I watched this man about 4 years ago scream and almost cry in his car because women he finds attractive do not want to be with him, women he tried to have a relationship with, did not want him. You have to be a sick individual to still hold onto people who don’t want you. There’s much more to life than just wasting away, thinking about women who didn’t want you and creating angry social media accounts where you rant and rave about women is nuts!

 I don’t understand how someone can pour this much energy into the topic of dating women and being rejected by them. They genuinely need support and therapy, they don’t need girlfriends and dates with women because they’re so angry and sad inside, they need help. Your life cannot revolve around women. You have to find something else with your time and energy that motivates you to want to keep moving. The man’s video that I stumbled across was very- disturbing, he clapped imagining the women and I guess men who didn’t want to hang out with him and go on dates with him. Who does that? Being rejected absolutely can destroy and hurt the hearts and minds of people who experience it, but not to this degree. This is madness. 

  These videos on YouTube are their cope, their outlet to allow them to vent out their immense amounts of frustration of constantly being rejected by the women that they find attraction towards. They are angry and they want for the people, but more specifically, the women that they want to feel shame and regret for initially rejecting them.This makes them feel great because they can express how they truly feel while also finding other men who have experienced similar rejection by women. 

They think about sex constantly, they can’t stop thinking about having sex with women and having other forms of physical intimacy with women that aren’t always sexual (holding hands, and being close with a woman) when they aren’t able to find a woman that also wants them, and they see couples and other people who have relationships they become angry and envious and those feelings turn into pure rage and sometimes jealousy. 

They don’t have any hobbies, family members, and a sense of community to fulfill their social needs. This is why they get so angry when they sit and think about their reality. They’re truly sad and pathetic and I’m not typing this to mock them, I’m typing this because something is truly wrong with them and I hope that they’re either able to safely cope or they’re able to leave the country and stay over there for good.