battymuses

[battymuses]

Ouch. That outdoes any Jackass stunt. Respect.

@pinstripe-papa

Your asks aren't open, so I figured I'd contact you out in the open.

You still going to see the doctor for your severe case of no-homo-bro?

-Miriam

[battymuses]

No. I just wanted to know if a professional did it or some prison inmates did it. Your wording implied something gruesome.

@pinstripe-papa

Your asks aren't open, so I figured I'd contact you out in the open.

You still going to see the doctor for your severe case of no-homo-bro?

-Miriam

[battymuses]

For the no-homo guy, you sure are bad at straight answers.

@pinstripe-papa

Your asks aren't open, so I figured I'd contact you out in the open.

You still going to see the doctor for your severe case of no-homo-bro?

-Miriam

[battymuses]

Did... Did the doctor rip it out or did the prison rip it out???

@pinstripe-papa

Your asks aren't open, so I figured I'd contact you out in the open.

You still going to see the doctor for your severe case of no-homo-bro?

-Miriam

[battymuses]

@pinstripe-papa

Your asks aren't open, so I figured I'd contact you out in the open.

You still going to see the doctor for your severe case of no-homo-bro?

-Miriam

[battymuses]

I just imagined Miriam being made uneasy by Harley Quinn. Not because she's dangerous, but because she's a therapist.

[battymuses]

By The Neck

Continued from here.

While Viktor was easily visible by the street lamp, Miriam had since leapt back into the darkness nearby.

A passing car soon illuminated her visage, however, and made it clear that something inside her had snapped.

She was smiling painfully wide, a toothy grin that rivaled the Joker's, while the glare moving across her glasses revealed crazed eyes.

One might think her a victim of the clown prince of crime, but she has simply succumbed to good old-fashioned stress.

She'd been on high alert since Viktor had attacked her and the visits with Mary Dahl, acclimating to a new job, the berating of her irate mother, the worried calls of her father, and the high intensity training she'd been going through weren't helping things.

The straw that broke the camel's back was learning of the killer's escape.

Was she supposed to wait for them to attack her so she could fight for her life?

What if she wasn't alert at the time?

What if they attacked her father first as revenge?

What if they went after Mary?

She couldn't allow that.

No. She decided to go after Viktor herself.

Piss Viktor off with the collar she'd had made as a gag and wait for them to lash out at her. Labeling it self defense should help her get away with their murder.

Though it seemed they were giving her a chance. Yeah, right.

She laughed through her teeth before uttering a simple, "Make me."

@sanguine-salvation

[battymuses]

"Do you always answer a question with a question?" Mary raised a brow, looking thoroughly unimpressed as she craned her neck to meet their eyes. She couldn't afford to be a mouse in the presence of a snake. "Maybe I've dealt with her before." She could very well be a weasel though.

It had taken days of manhandling, injections, padded rooms, doctors, and forced pills for Mary to properly reach lucidity.

She didn't even want to break the fantasy in the first place. While she'd lost Killer Croc, Baby Doll was still better than Mary Dahl.

Baby Doll was loved and adored with a wonderful family and fans all over the world.

Mary Dahl was all alone.

But she didn't have much choice now. She was back on medication and Baby Doll just wasn't Baby Doll without Mr. Happy Head or her curls or hired muscle.

She was just Mary now... even if she did have Baby Doll in the back of her mind in case she was ever needed. Mary Dahl wasn't particularly threatening, but Baby Doll had a reputation.

In a place like Arkham Asylum, you needed a reputation.

On the topic of reputations, it would seem one inmate got one they weren't fond of... and it wasn't Mary's.

Miriam's Bitch. That was Viktor Zsasz' new moniker.

While others found it humorous, Mary found it curious.

Miriam was not a common name and she'd only ever known one person with it.

Could it be her?

Mary approached the psychotic killer, doing her best to maintain some facade of courage.

"So," Mary began with her natural voice, looking at her nails and casually tucking a length of uncurled hair behind her ear, "this Miriam that made you her bitch... Did she have red hair? Maybe some big round glasses?"

@sanguine-salvation

[battymuses]

I have been noticing a lot of people being too nervous to talk to their mutuals when they want to roleplay with them soooo..

Please reblog this to tell your mutuals IT IS 100% OKAY to come up to you and tell you straight off the bat that they want to roleplay with you. In fact, it’s highly encouraged to tell you any thread idea that comes across their mind!

[battymuses]

It had taken days of manhandling, injections, padded rooms, doctors, and forced pills for Mary to properly reach lucidity.

She didn't even want to break the fantasy in the first place. While she'd lost Killer Croc, Baby Doll was still better than Mary Dahl.

Baby Doll was loved and adored with a wonderful family and fans all over the world.

Mary Dahl was all alone.

But she didn't have much choice now. She was back on medication and Baby Doll just wasn't Baby Doll without Mr. Happy Head or her curls or hired muscle.

She was just Mary now... even if she did have Baby Doll in the back of her mind in case she was ever needed. Mary Dahl wasn't particularly threatening, but Baby Doll had a reputation.

In a place like Arkham Asylum, you needed a reputation.

On the topic of reputations, it would seem one inmate got one they weren't fond of... and it wasn't Mary's.

Miriam's Bitch. That was Viktor Zsasz' new moniker.

While others found it humorous, Mary found it curious.

Miriam was not a common name and she'd only ever known one person with it.

Could it be her?

Mary approached the psychotic killer, doing her best to maintain some facade of courage.

"So," Mary began with her natural voice, looking at her nails and casually tucking a length of uncurled hair behind her ear, "this Miriam that made you her bitch... Did she have red hair? Maybe some big round glasses?"

@sanguine-salvation

[battymuses]

(Open Starter for anyone who wants to respond.)

For someone who had to wear glasses, Miriam had the eyes of a hawk. Perhaps it was due to her time as a bodyguard for Baby Doll or simply living in a place as dangerous as Gotham City, but the redhead was always vigilant when out in the open.

Whatever the reason, Miriam noticed that while the light for pedestrian crossing was flashing, a driver was aiming to speed right past it.

Acting quickly, she grabbed the person in front of her trying to cross and yanked them back with a grunt.

[battymuses]

I think I'll make a few open starters here and there for my muses on this blog. I don't get a lot of interaction here and I might luck out and get a few takers.

[battymuses]

In all honesty, Miriam was a bit surprised Viktor fell for her ploy as easily as they did. She'd been expecting them to dodge, to make her swipe at their head over and over again until one finally hit. But, no. One last try was all it took and they were out like a light. Still, she wasn't taking any risks. Stomping on their hand, she searched for the blade and took it for herself. Satisfied that the killer was no longer a threat, Miriam took a few deep calming breaths, grabbed her purse that she had dropped, and sat atop the rogue's back. She daintily crossed one leg over the other and pulled out her phone to call the police. During the call, the redhead took in the damage. Her left wrist was at least sprained and the gash in her arm would no doubt need stitches. Damn it... Removing her tie, she wrapped the wound the best she could and ended the call, starting a new one moments after. "Hi, Daddy! Sorry to say I won't be able to make it tonight... Yeah, I'm alright, mostly. I got into a bit of a scuffle... No, no one to worry about. Just some loser who thought he could jump me." She scowled down at the helpless form below her, then at the knife in her hand. A wicked grin graced her features as she thought up the most delicious payback.

"Yes, I'm okay. Just some mild injuries I want to have looked at, just in case... Yeah, a ride to the hospital sounds good." As the redhead spoke casually to her father, she enacted her revenge, cutting into the killer's clothing to leave their back bare. "I'm hoping I don't need stitches... Oh, it's nothing that serious. I'd be bleeding a lot more if that was the case... Yes, any bleeding is bad." Carefully cutting into the rogue's upper back, she gave Viktor a new nickname, of sorts. "I have good news though!... Yeah! I'm not taking any of Mother's garbage anymore. I'm quitting as soon as possible. I may not know what exactly I'll do, but anything is better than working under her... I know, but it feels great knowing I won't have to listen to her anymore!" Miriam looked at her handiwork and chuckled.

"Oh, nothing. Just happy to be free, you know?... Yes. Love you too. See you in a bit." Hearing the sirens in the distance, Miriam stood and took one last look at her art. MIRIAM'S BITCH "Good luck living that down, prick."

cont. from ( x ) @battymuses

Her voice was like a whimper.

And then a song.

Oh, the sound of giddiness, madness maybe, or just adrenaline? They supposed it didn't matter, it was all an itch in the head. But it sparked something in their chest. Flint to their steel, a burn of both frustration and wild, giddy abandon all knotted together, their impatient look waned slightly, then cracked into a fractured little smile.

One that was just as impatient, but absolutely lusting for blood. This was no longer a hunt, this was a game. Prey driven to it's last instinct? Or was this now a dance between two predators... maybe. Maybe not.

Time to see.

Viktor's lip curled up enough to glint teeth at her as she rattled out in desperation, her voice snapping into something like a giggle, baffling confidence soaking her every word. Oh, they were right, they did like her. It was only a shame that her bark wouldn't match her bite.

"Oh, my dear, I really don't care who you worked for. It doesn't matter. It's all a matter of convenience." Their face softened for a moment as they looked at her. "... You remind me of me. Those last death throes really are unbearable, aren't they? You probably still think you can get out of them. But, either you're lucky enough to die, or your unlucky enough to keep living." Their smile cracked like those fine invisible lines in glass. "Lucky for you, you have me."

Her threat, her last request for their last words, made them throw their head back and laugh far too sharply. "No, yours. Pick your spot if you want, I'll make sure your get the kindness you deserve."

And with that and a snap of their wrist, a wild look in their eyes and blood smeared across bruises, lost to the heady mania of purpose, they threw themself at Miriam, knife out. They saw her readying an attack, they weren't stupid. But what they didn't see through the mess in their head was that Miriam was just as clever as them, and just as sly.

An attack that had looked like it was meant for their wounded shoulder was instead a sharp pain in their head. They only felt the last weight of their blade hit her arm, but their vision and weight teetered in and out of darkness before they could figure out how badly they'd gored her. Or if they had.

The world spun around them, empty and dizzy as their skin burned cold and numb from hitting something. Concrete...? Was that the sky above them? It was all so...? dark...?

Was that her above them? Below them?

[battymuses]

(Rough idea of Miriam's apartment after Mary moves in.)

[battymuses]

I represent myself with a Pallas’ Cat because I feel them fitting for me with their feline traits, seemingly grumpy face, and more stocky appearance. I am in my early thirties and still figuring out how to function with my autism and other conditions. I am constantly aiming to improve myself even if it is in small increments. I know I will always have my limits, but I am hoping to learn how to reach my personal best. If I had to pick my most positive trait, it would probably be my creativity. I started drawing from the moment I could grasp a crayon and simply never stopped. I’m primarily self taught and may not be the best, but I really enjoy it and think I’m decent at it. In addition to drawing, I like to write, even if it doesn’t always make its way to paper. While I do make fan content, I also have original characters and stories all my own. As such, I do enjoy collaborative story writing in the form of roleplaying. When it comes to interacting with me, there are some things you should know. -Communicate clearly. As someone with autism, I have difficulty picking up on social cues and other subtleties. -Tell me when I mess up. I want to improve, but I don’t know what I don’t know. Odds are, if I come across as rude or uncaring, I am completely unaware of it. Let me know so I can address it and move past the issue. -If you’re not up to talking to me at the moment, simply let me know. Maybe establish an “I can’t talk right now” safe word to use in these situations. I am autistic. I know what it’s like to not have certain socialization in you. If I’m only met with silence for a long time, I will assume that my message hasn’t gone through or you’ve simply forgotten to respond. Odds are I will send another message to check and I don’t want to come across as pestering if you simply don’t want to talk for whatever reason. Favorites Music- Rock, Pop, Punk, Dance, Metal, (many different kinds)

Genres- Horror, Slasher, Comedy, Animation

Video Games- Pokemon, Animal Crossing, Banjo-Kazooie Animals- Cats, Dogs, Hermit Crabs Cartoons- Teen Titans, Teen Titans Go, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Comedy- Austin Powers, Ace Ventura Horror- A Nightmare on Elm Street, Scream Animated Movies- The Lion King, The Emperor’s New Groove

[battymuses]

@alicesought​

Mad Mod (Alternate Villain Version)

General Overview Mad Mod, born Neil Taylor Richards on February 2, 1940 in the East End of London, is a highly intelligent and eccentric villain known for giving the Teen Titans a hard time. Despite his old age, he appears to be a much younger man, having stolen the youth of someone despicable. His desire to keep young stems from the mental degradation he faced when he reached old age. Despite his alias, the Mod does not wish to be truly mad. Now that he is young again, Mad Mod mainly partakes in villainy solely to have fun. He is rather wealthy from his past as a fashion designer and his various technological advances, so he sees no need for thievery and the like outside of entertainment. As such, he has no real goals in villainy. Mad Mod’s deepest desire is to have a true friend and/or romantic partner, but he will not admit it. All his relationships are surface level after finding out too many times that people were more interested in his fame and wealth than him as a person. He no longer trusts anyone to truly like him and secretly has low self esteem for just this reason. A Brief History Neil was initially raised by his mother, having lost his father to World War II, but his mother passed away of pneumonia just shy of Neil’s thirteenth birthday. After this, Neil sought shelter with his grandfather, a well known engineer who turned out to be bigoted and abusive. Neil endured the abuse until he was eighteen, when the older man passed away. To this day, Neil questions if it was truly an accident. After his grandfather’s death, Neil took his inheritance and pursued his interest in fashion (the only thing he liked more than tinkering). With the money and influence of his grandfather, it didn’t take Neil long to attract attention and fans of his work. As he most enjoyed the rising mod fashion of the sixties, Neil took on the fashion alias of Mad Mod. Mad Mod had careers in both fashion and technology, sometimes combining the two. This led to him earning a great deal of wealth. This wealth and fame attracted people to Mad Mod, many sticking around for only that reason. While he did try to truly befriend these people, he was all too often disappointed by their true intentions. Believing this to be the best he could ever get, Mad Mod delved into drugs, sex, and parties with the only intention to have fun. Later in life, Mad Mod noticed his mental abilities starting to slip. Panicking, he began work on mind control technology in the hopes of staving off the mental degradation. When this wasn’t proven fully effective, he turned to regaining his youth to reverse the damage. This was where his villainy began. Basics Name: Neil Taylor Richards Alias: Mad Mod Birth: February 2, 1940 Physical Age: 25 Height: 5’10” Build: Lean Hair: Red Eyes: Green Orientation: Bi Tidbits Is a massive nerd at heart, but often suppresses it. Can speak several languages he learned out of boredom. Loves Scooby Doo, The Beatles, and Monty Python, among other things. Has several canes that double as weapons. Favorite fruit is bananas. Can have a dumb and/or crass sense of humor. Capable of putting on a posh facade. Always has at least one pet cat. Is touch starved.

[battymuses]

There was a quick, albeit strong storm last night. It knocked out power for a great deal of people, including us.

Last night and this day have been hell, but we're finally out of the house, in air conditioning, and with signal.

We're going to be checking into a hotel after we eat at this restaurant and I will hopefully be able to use my laptop and the hotel's wifi to properly reply and communicate.