#viewer discretion is advised

[soundwavesconjunx]

🎭 His Dear Witch ~ 🎭

It's unknown why do you even exist. The SCP Foundation doesn't know what to do with you. You're a confusing paradox that they do not understand and most frustratingly—uncontainable in a conventional sense.

#TAGS: Nothing Time Twins related, SCP Fandom is slowly drawing me back, It includes SCP! Reader, The Herta! Reader, Honkai Star Rail x SCP Crossover, Potentially OOC, Reader x Canon, Witch Reader, Short Writing, The Herta! Reader x SCP Character, More stuff like this would be included if interested, SCP FANS ARISE. 🔥🔥🔥

— TW?: Possesive Themes, Be Warned, 035 Being 035 As Usual, Potential Yandere Themes, He Calls You His 'Wife'.

A/N: After hitting maxed pity on Herta's banner along with her LC, I decided to make an interesting crossover because I thought it would be interesting to see how this goes for The Herta! Reader Insert. (Huge bonus that I'm blessed with good stats while I'm building her. 🙏)

You’re the definition of an enigma. A literal spacefaring, unknown anomaly wrapped up in an elegantly appearance, self-aware, and untouchable persona. The Foundation doesn’t know what to do with you, and SCP-035? He’s utterly entranced.

And Who Exactly Are You in the SCP Foundation?

You are Anomaly [REDACTED], a Level 6: CTS entity classified under Euclid. They don’t fully understand what you are—just that you exist, that you have an unsettling level of influence, and that you are playing the longest of long games.

You don’t act out. You don’t cause destruction. You don’t try to escape. Instead, you watch. You let them wonder why you haven’t done anything drastic, knowing full well that the moment you choose to tip the scales, everything changes.

They don’t imprison you because they can’t. They simply keep you in containment because you allow them to.

And then there’s SCP-035.

SCP-035 has never met someone like you before.

He’s charming, cunning, and manipulative—but none of it works on you. Not because you’re immune to him, but because you let him think he’s in control before flipping the script entirely.

You’re his perfect counterpart. The ultimate tease, the unattainable yet tangible anomaly that keeps him guessing.

At first, he tries to toy with you, flirt with you, unnerve you. And then, he realizes.

Oh.

You’re not like the others.

You understand him. You see through every little act, every trick, every calculated play. But instead of rejecting him or trying to outmaneuver him, you do something infinitely worse.

You indulge him.

You let him speak his flowery words, you humor his charm—but it’s clear who the real player is in this game. He’s used to being in control, but you? You make it so easy for him to fall under your spell instead.

And it drives him insane.

The Foundation is uneasy. Not because you’re violent, but because they cannot predict what you’re doing.

Why do you allow SCP-035 to get so close?

Why does SCP-035, a master manipulator, seem to worship you?

What is your endgame?

They want to separate you two, but the problem? 035 actually behaves when you’re around.

If anything, he’s less volatile, less inclined to escape, more… cooperative. But only because he knows that if he behaves, he gets you.

035: (mocking, but with an underlying threat) “Oh? You want to take my darling away? My wife?” (chuckles darkly) “Now, now, let’s not be hasty. You wouldn’t want to see me upset, would you?”

The researchers watching? Having war flashbacks.

The Real Question is...Why You Haven’t Given Him a Permanent Host (Yet)?

Because you’re playing the long game.

You could give him a permanent body. A perfect, indestructible vessel crafted specifically for him. A host that would never rot, never decay, never fail him.

And he knows you can.

That’s why he adores you. That’s why he’s obsessed.

But you? You wait.

You let him yearn. Let him crave it. Let him wonder if today is the day you’ll finally grant him that final gift.

035: (grinning, tilting his host’s head at you) “Tell me, dearest… when will you finally stop teasing me?”

You: (smirking, brushing a hand over his mask, whispering) “Would you love me the same if I gave you everything at once?”

035: … (soft chuckle) “Ah. I see. You do know me too well, don’t you?”

And the Foundation? Losing their minds. Because whatever the hell this is? It’s not normal.

They don’t know if it’s love, obsession, or something far worse.

But they do know one thing:

SCP-035 is yours.

[simp4konig]

Hello, someone forcing Nikto to show his face to his lover... Thoughts?

WARNING! HEAVY, HEAVY ANGST! VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Look at them."

His knees buckled under him, Nikto was kneeling, body subdued and completely overcome with fatigue.

Pain no longer registered in his body, and it more closely resembled a dull ache — like the ache after ripping a tooth with no anesthetic, the gums numb.

Gunshot wounds had torn his flesh, and he was slowly losing consciousness, but he was gritting his teeth with enough pressure to unhinge his own jaw to stay awake. Stay awake. Stay awake stay away stay awake.

A sharp yank of his collar forced Nikto's eyes to find meet Zakhaev's, but Nikto was committing your face to memory — your face, not the one of a corpse, or the ones from the photo albums which were burned before his very eyes.

His eyes were drooping, however, and any second now, he thought he would collapse, his body lulling of its own accord as if he was drunk.

But he was not. He was in so much pain that it made him delirious.

"This is your partner?"

Although the statement was directed at Nikto, Viktor's eyes bore into your own. As he smirked cruelly, the scar on the side of his face sneered at you with equal cruelty, the result of his notoriety and violence.

"Talk, dog. Tell me. Don't make me ask a second time."

Nikto was captured by Zakhaev, and was tortured. Nikto was willing to endure unimaginable pain, to be mutilated, to be ruined beyond salvation, so long as you were safe.

And you were. He was certain. He had taken several precautions, searched various locations for the ideal safe place. To keep you safe.

Somehow, your hideout was found. After all the precautions Nikto had taken, after all of the effort, the dedication, the certainty... in vain.

As if the physical, injuries which were irreversible, the beatings, the brainwashing, the everything wasn't enough, clearly Nikto wasn't sufficiently scarred for Zakhaev to be satisfied. Zakhaev wanted him broken. Destroyed emotionally, so that fight, that passion, and that strength would dissipate, and ultimately disappear. Since Nikto was too much of a threat to the organisation, and Zakhaev's plans.

Nikto's eyes were empty, sockets hollow, void of any emotion. Just a void.

Stubbornly, Nikto remained silent, refusing to humour Viktor with a response.

Instead, his heart ached, his gut clenched, his fists shook, and his eyes stung.

All he could do was look into your eyes. Hoping, praying to God, anyone, anyone at all, that you would be spared. That, for disobedience, one of the bullets in Zakhaev's pistol would go straight through his skull, not yours.

That at least you wouldn't have to face death first.

As if bored, Viktor turned his pistol this way and that, observing it with feigned interest...

...

...To Nikto's horror, instead of aiming the barrel of his gun at him, Viktor was walking towards you.

Zakhaev denied Nikto the sight of your face for your last seconds, deliberately shielding his line of sight. Not out of mercy, but out of spite, and to further rub salt into his wounds — which he would later do with sick, sadistic pleasure.

Every single cell in his body yelled, screamed, shrieked at Nikto to move, to lunge at Zakhaev, to throw himself, to do anything.

But he couldn't move. Not a muscle. Fatigue, pain, and numbness had invaded his bloodstream and paralysed his nervous system, rendering him incapacitated.

No bother.

You were smiling.

Tears streaming down your cheeks like rivers, sobs echoing as you sobbed and sobbed until your throat became hoarse and voice was broken, you were smiling.

You saw Nikto's new face for the first time.

Nikto's face mutilated, scarred, and ruined face of the man who you cherished, whose stubbled cheeks you'd often nuzzle your nose into, whose lips you'd kiss.

God. What had they done to him? You could recognise those blue-gray eyes any day, but they no longer resembled ice which would melt at the sight of you; instead, they were empty. Soulless.

Yet, as ruined and mutilated as it was, it was still the face of your Nikto.

Nonetheless, you saw Nikto's new face for the first time.

And last.

As, Nikto's face, was the last thing that you ever would see. Half obscured by Zakhaev's body, yes, and your vision blurred by tears, you still saw it. That was enough.

Before Zakhaev unceremoniously pulled the trigger, and your body became limp. Cold. Your mind at rest, but your eyes becoming blind, denied the sight of your lover forever.

Not at peace, though. You could only rest, since you wouldn't, couldn't find peace. Not after being burdened with the knowledge of what's been done to him, and what's going to be done to him.

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A/Ns

second wip finished!!!!!

from a very fluffy fic to something gutwrenching... you're NOT welcome. you ARE however welcome to publicly execute me if u so wish ❤️ (u deserve at least THAT after reading this 💔)

no tag list bc i thought that this was very heavy and i did not want to tag my moots+followers in this lest this trigger them:(

anyways, ty anon for the ask !!! probably (definitely) NOT what you had in mind... but those were my thoughts 🥲

[not-an-ai]

We know that Dream was fed raw potatoes in the prison, and nothing else. And in many fanfics, Dream doesn't eat them and they rot, I feel what most people are forgetting is that potatoes are the best vegetable possible. And what do potatoes also do? Grow in weird conditions, like sprouting in your kitchen when you haven't used them in awhile. They grow anywhere. I.e; this meme, thus, I think it is very important to talk about the cell Dream is covered and quite possibly taken over by potatoes. Because eventually the chest and the book thingy would decompress as they are made of wood, and potatoes could grow in/on them, and if you are doing an au where Dream dies in the prison and no one removes his body for whatever reason. When someone finally finds it, potatoes are growing out of it. Or if it is an immortal Dream au, there are potatoes growing in/out of Dream.

[mullermilkshake]

Leaving is impossible.

One last time to leave.

Reiner Braun x Fem! Reader TW - This chapter covers a lot of abusive behaviour and manipulation tactics that are used irl. This is a very real scenario which has happened to people, and is intended purely for reading purposes only. Please read the tags down below and read at your own discretion. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Threats of suicide, Threats of murder, Emotional blackmail/ manipulation, Dubious consent, Breed kink, Suicidal tendencies, Abusive relationship, Coercion, References to baby trapping/stealthing, Toxic behaviour, Gun use and violence, Threatening behaviour, Threats of death and violence

<<< For more dark content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

Reiner,

I can’t do this anymore. I’m so tired and you’re suffocating me. I know in time that you will make someone very happy, but right now, I’m not happy. I haven’t been for a while and I can’t stay with you being unhappy.

So I’m leaving. For good this time and there’s nothing you can do to stop this from happening…

You had been in this position plenty of times, over the course of two years in suspended animation, trying and fucking trying to get out of this. One try, two tries, even five tries and you were still back to where you began.

The man over you, your current boyfriend, was more than just suffocating, he was just plain deranged. A man adept at emotional blackmail and making everything about himself with all the expertise of just standing there like an innocent prick with no aggression.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said, grinding his hips into you so delicately like you were a glass object that threatened to break under his weight.

You didn’t gain a sense that you were beautiful at all. You just wanted this over with, so you could give him that note. The note sat neatly folded in the little pocket of your jacket that you would anxiously lay on your pillow while he was asleep.

Tonight was the last straw and it was the ultimate decider to whether you were going to burn it or not. And you were not going to burn it. You had realised that as soon as you heard his voice break while he did, what he called, ‘making love’ to you.

Whatever followed suit after would no longer be your problem and couldn’t linger over your head like an overbearing storm cloud to get you wet through to the point you’d catch a week long cold.

“So… Beautiful…” He never swept you off of your feet. Ever.

He only wanted to keep you and made you feel terrible for it. The bastard.

“Y-you’re so perfect…” His lips kept close to your ear lobe, taking it between his teeth every now and then. It was as though he was tasting you.

You said nothing. Laying on your back with legs in the air either side of his waist, just waiting for it to end so you could get up and wash him off of you.

At one point in your life, you really did love him. You adored Reiner so much it hurt after you had met. A dashing and sensitive man who wanted to give you the world. And then he got complacent, lazy. Comfortable.

You recalled the first time you wanted to get out and leave. Seeing him on his knees begging, sobbing uncontrollably for another go at things and you relented. Then after a few weeks of his behaviour change, the extra work he put in that you realised should have been the bare minimum ended. And it got bad again.

Then after the next attempt to leave, Reiner understood that he didn’t need to expel all of his energy so quickly.

All he had to do, to keep you to stay, was to threaten to throw his own life away.

And it fucking worked every time.

“I-I don’t know what I’d do without you…” Was he starting to cry again? Jesus christ.

Still, you said nothing. You just let him fuck you like usual until after some time, he got sloppy as what was a boringly normal thing for him when he was close to ejaculating inside you.

After all of the exhaustive efforts to leave him, you were lucky that he hadn’t made a successful attempt to trap you with a baby or something so extreme you would have had no choice but to stay. Either that, or he was just an idiot who hadn’t thought of it yet. So it was paramount that you got out now before things grew far too ugly to even see the wood for the trees.

“I’m close, babe.” Of course he was.

He shifted his weight, his huffed breaths and groans seemed to last forever, rutting into you like a selfish beast on the high of the hunt and fresh musk. One more time. He’d come inside that condom one last time and drift off to sleep unknowing that you were leaving him for good and his threats be damned to your jittering conscience.

“Let me come inside you. Just this once?”

What? 

Did he fucking know what you were about to do? There was no way, despite being on birth control, to even entertain him with that request. Coming inside someone was a privilege, not a right. You were appalled at the request, but it angered you all the more that he couldn’t read your mind.

But maybe he could.

“You want to-” It perked you up and it made you notice that he had stopped his movement.

“Please? I really want to come inside you, you’ll let me right? You’re on birth control, nothing will happen I promise. Just trust me.” He pulled out and started to pull the condom from his cock.

If you spoke up now like your gut was begging at you to do, he’d find out. He’d fucking find out and he was on top of you. Reiner had never gotten violent with you, he never needed to. Something screamed at you though, begging you to let him get away with it so as to not give your position away.

You remembered the news articles and statistics, the interviews and sudden police tape wrapped haphazardly around doors and fence panels to keep the parasitic reporters bouldering in for the crime scene photos.

Just let him do it. You can deal with it after.  

He did it anyway without an answer from you. “You feel so good. I just…”

Counting down from ten. That would calm you, that could settle your nerves for just a little bit to finish this. He fucked you now, picking his pace up just a fraction and pulling you close you him you fought against your flight response to pull away from.

“I’ll fill you up and… Oh hell, just the thought of that makes me want to give you a baby.”

What the fuck? 

You really struggled against yourself to keep still. No fucking way. He must have known your plan, he must have found out and was playing out his next filthy game to keep you there.

So you panicked, without even realising. “Get off… Get off me.”

He didn’t listen. “Get the fuck off of me!”

You pushed. He finally moved after what seemed like an entire lifetime. “I can’t do this-”

“What’s going on?” He watched you get up and run for the bedroom door to get your robe to cover yourself.

“I’m not in the mood, I just-” Think of something that he won’t question. “I feel ugly, my stomach hurts, my head is aching.”

Literally anything.

In your haste, a few things fell from the back of the door. You paced over to the little ensuite bathroom and closed the door. It wasn’t long until he was knocking lightly to get your attention.

“Babe, can I come in? ” No way. No fucking way,

He would only innocently talk you into sex again. Flattery was an odd power of his. He did it, without actually doing it. Ignoring him was the best thing to do.

“Tell me what I can do. I can’t help you if you don’t keep me in the loop.” 

No. No. No. You covered your ears harshly with aggression, finger nails sticking your ears and leaving crescent shape marks to your skin temporarily. “Leave me alone. I don’t feel well.”

He did not knock again.

Thank fuck.

A panic you got over relatively fast, though you were unsure of how to approach the situation without making it uncomfortably awkward, and then he would never go to sleep. But as you opened that door, your stomach dropped through the floor when you saw him hunched over reading the note from your jacket pocket that was now slumped on the floor.

It must have fallen from the door.

“R-reiner.” His silence was new and fucking terrifying.

Silence.

You were certain that you were about to vomit all over the floor. “Reiner?... S-say something…” 

How could you even take one step towards him with the atmospheric aura around him? He’d never been violent with you. Never.

He won’t do anything. 

Wouldn’t he? In all honesty whenever you didn’t lie to yourself, you knew. You knew that you had absolutely no idea what he was capable of.

Despite being naked from the waist down, Reiner stood up and left the bedroom through the doorway and left you there in silence. Still nothing. But, while you were already in your robe, you should have thought clearly and left right then.

It took you a good minute to kick yourself into gear and look through the gap in the door. He was nowhere in sight and you told yourself that he had gone to the other room to cry of think of some pathetic excuse to keep you here.

Your bag was packed a week ago. Your clothes to get dressed into were tucked under the bed in the corner along with your passport tucked inside them inconspicuously. Your shirt and underwear made it on your figure, the large packed bag below your trembling knees as you glanced back every so often just in case he came back.

He didn’t, until he did. With a metallic click of a handgun right near your head. You froze to it immediately, lips trembling as your eyes grew wet and blinked rapidly to rid them of the saltiness so you could at least see your feet.

“Reiner please. Don’t do this.” Fighting it did not help, your voice broke and it was far too obvious you were utterly frightened.

“I can’t lose you.” Was all he said.

“And I can’t do this anymore. I-I don’t want to do this.” Full blown tears. They dripped onto the half screwed up duvet cover hanging off of the bed.

“You can’t break up with me.” His own words quivered in his mouth. “I love you so much and I won’t live in this world without you. I’m sick of clawing you back every time you try to push me away.”

“Push you… I just don’t want to be here anymore. I-I want to be on my own.” Saying it that way would make it less of a burn to his third degree mind.

“I can’t leave you on your own. I won’t.” The barrel pushed against the back of your skull, “I refuse to live in this world without you.”

Before you could cry out in a daze panic, the barrel came away and gave you space to turn and face him. Not without difficulty to see the metal paperweight of death turn around on himself.

Not again.

For a moment, you assumed it was just another ruse. Was the gun even loaded? He shoved it back into your face. “If I can’t have you in this life, then I’ll just take you with me. That way we can be together forever.”

“Reiner.” You sobbed in front of that dark hole of death right by your eyes. “Please don’t- please don’t do this!”

“If I don’t do this, then how will I get you to see how much I love you? I’m protecting you. If you stay with me, I know where you are and I’ll know you’re safe.”

“I-”

“This is the right thing for us. The right thing and I’ll stop at nothing to keep us together.” He huffed, but it appeared like it was in jest because of his weak smile pulling his lips. “I want to have babies with you… We can’t do that if you leave me, can we?”

“I don’t want that.” It was a stupid thing to say in the moment. You would need to be careful and think of another opportunity to leave if he had a gun. 

Where did he get the fucking thing from?

“You do want this. You do. I-I know you do because you’re perfect for me. All that waiting around to get you to finally notice me won’t go away for nothing, I just can’t let that happen or I swear I’ll go insane.”

Another day. Live to fight another day.

“So I need you to make the choice, baby.” His grip on that gun whitened his knuckles. “Do you want to stay here with me? Or do I do the unthinkable and take us both out? I’ll be alright with both.”

He really was going to use it. It got you sobbing silently, thinking of all that made life good. And Reiner wasn’t in any of it.

“Shh, shh.” The fucker stroked your hair like it was actually meant to comfort you. “It’s alright. I’ll make it real quick, you won’t even feel it.” 

Live to fight another day. Just do it. “Okay… O-okay, I’ll stay. I-I’ll stay with you.”

A fucked up smile of relief from him meant his mood declined to possibly non- lethal. “Good. You know deep down that it’s the right thing to do. We fit so perfectly together.” 

He took your hand so matter-of-factly and placed the gun down onto the side table. “Let’s go get a shower. That’ll calm you down.”

Live to fight another day, frightened what he may do next should he find out. Be he’d never done anything violent to you. A gun to the head surely ticked that off the list.

Another attempt, another fail.

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[batravatra]

Are you going to be the saviour of old lady Yuri? 🥺

Will you be the legendary hero who fufills the prophecy? 🙏

I have been called upon, and I must answer. May the Goddesses of Old and Queer deliver us from the grip of despair that is the yuriless world and flow through my stylus to grant its mercy and placate the suffering voices of those starved for old women yuri. For my will is unshakable and oath to Old Women Yuri is ironclad.

[badjohnspeakeasy]

GASP!!!

Tatsumaki getting physical with her new boyfriend in public. What if the paparazzi are watching?!

[joydoesathing]

Do we get to see the full version of the nsfw post somewhere else?

Chelsea: Be warned as you go

*Chelsea hands you a link in the description*

[theotherwoman-emily]

Headphones Advised 🎧

[soundtechrapture]

Edgelords, Fetishes, and the Long Term Effects of Cringe Culture.

This is not at all the normal content I post here. This is a much larger vent / ramble than I normally do (it's practically an essay.)

This is a bit of a subjective outlook on this situation purely because I've only really had experience in the eproctophilia community, so I'll be using incidents from it, but I'm sure other fetish communities have gone through similar incidents. Cringe Culture may be pretty much dead, and the 2016 edgelord era is over, but the aftershocks and ramifications of it are still present. I don't know if people realize how fucking isolating it is to have a fetish like this. I never asked for any of this. Why are we such a target? Is it because we're into something that's seen as taboo? Is it because it's funny that people would be into something like this? NOTICE: The following parts of this essay don't hit the same now that I know that the artist I was referring to isn't the greatest person. There's an artist on Twitter I've been following for a while. By the time I went ahead and followed them, they had their account set to private. Earlier today, I checked my followed accounts on Twitter, so I could port them over to Bluesky, and found that I could finally see their content again. Empty, 0 posts, everything wiped without a trace. I know the actions of someone I barely know shouldn't affect me so much, but I can't stop thinking about it. Why? Were they exposed to a hate mob? Was it fear of that outcome? This isn't the first time this community has had a creator get attacked and ridiculed. Back in 2015ish, AnimatedJames got exposed for being into eproctophilia. Now, don't get me wrong, AnimatedJames wasn't exactly a saint. But people weren't attacking him for being a pedo or a rapist. They attacked him for something that was both harmless and out of his control. 2019 comes along, and a similar incident happened to JelloApocalypse but with little long-lasting effects, aside from the odd video here or there. But for something like that to happen now, in 2024, made me realize that cringe culture isn't dead, we've just developed coping mechanisms. Some examples of cringe culture still being around include Reddit, harbouring many cringe culture Subreddits and echo chambers. Cringe compilations appearing on YouTube. And the generally aggressive, hateful mobs that still roam through social media. I'm sure you've noticed how targeted these hate mobs have become, going from TV shows and media they didn't like, to subcultures and sexualities. I don't know what I hope to gain from writing all of this. A more pleasant future for everyone, perhaps? Or maybe I just want someone to listen for a second. A few months back, someone on this account had told me that expressing kink is a form of liberation, activism, self-expression, and normalization. And that by posting, I was making the world more beautiful, queer, and happy by expressing my interests. I guess what I'm hoping to accomplish here is to make the world a little more tolerant, a little nicer, a little bit more empathetic. Maybe some day I can link this account with my main without fear of ridicule. But that feels like wishful thinking right now. Maybe some day, though.

[devil-in-hiding]

[coyotehusk]

✨ Daddy’s Little Angel✨

[waywardsou2]

New Video just dropped!

It's part 2 of "To Give A Pound of Flesh" By Feathered Fox (link in the description)

This took me way to fucking long to edit but here we are

[the-ink-plague-infection]

King Dice, are there any other survivors like Djimmi, Baroness Von Bon Bon, & Cala Maria here?

Cuphead & Mugman: Is Porkrind here and ok/safe from the infection?

(Body horror under the cut)

OOC: All confirmed survivors so far are available for asks, including Cala Maria and Brineybeard :3

(Sorry about the mistakes, my PC was being really buggy)

[littlesmolhoneybee]

𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 [𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨!𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

all characters are 21+ rawr viewer discretion is advised.

You were always in the spotlight.

It's all thanks to your father, the CEO of Tokyo's General Hospital. That entailed attending galas, white-tie events, and whatever luxurious engagement that the lower class could only dream of.

Even the smell within the venue was just as luxurious as the types of engagements they linger in. The stench of cologne belonging to Tom Ford, Dior, Hermes all found its way in your nose, releasing you from the choke-hold of musty cigars.

Luxury would still follow you, regardless of where you went. Luxury was your comfort. Luxury is what you can breathe. Own. Adorn. Become.

For you, money had no bounds, no limits.

Everyone would flock towards you, regardless of age. They would kiss your cheeks, smell you, and kiss you some more.

To them, you were the goddess, Venus, because of the way they were drawn to you.

They wanted you. They wanted to become you, beautiful and immortal in luxury.

Unfortunately for them, you were untouchable. Eyes of envy will always stalk you, but they could never haunt you. It's as though the supplication had rinsed the sins of envy off of you. And everytime you'd exit an event, you were just as pure as when you came in.

You were invincible. Since that's the power of money. Soon, that's what people realized.

No.

That's what fated realized.

Fate saw how you swirled your champagne. Fate saw how you looked bored. Fate saw how luxury had a comforting hold on you.

To you, money was the back-bone to everything. Without it would mean you've been stripped from your status as a goddess, as a human. Fate knew this, and exploited it.

In one fell swoop-- fate had orchestrated a cold-case on your father.

It dominoed from you becoming Venus, to becoming a slave. A slave who shouldn't even dare kiss her feet.

Now you were no longer human.

One thing that you've realized as your time as a goddess is that gods don't face responsibility. They imposed it. Now you face the laws that you once imposed. A cruel reminder of the mortality of humans, and anything beneath them. Of yourself.

You had caught glimpse of the man who did it. Somehow he let you live. Perhaps it was because he knew that you were worse off alive than dead. But he didn't share his name. Of course he wouldn't. When you described him to the police, through brimming tears-- the police wouldn't do anything. Mostly because they thought you were delusional.

There was no evidence. No CCTV footage, nothing.

Stockholders entered to a state of frenzy. The men in the room taunted you like bullies in a playground when you suggested to take over.

"Women don't know the first thing about business!" That was your fathers right-hand man, Albert, who gave you all the pretty dresses and jewelry when you were a child. He was the one who'd beckon you to join him and your father for golf.

This is the first time you realize Albert was after the hospital.

"Just sit there, and look pretty. We can handle it." Another stakeholder said.

You sat there, head hung low. Your father had just passed away, and the first thing that these men in the room do is talk business. None of them take a moment of silence to mourn. They all seemed too excited to take this as a golden opportunity.

Every part of you wanted to scream and shout. To insult them-- to burn their skin with the cigarette butts.

But you didn't. And you don't.

For the first time, you realize that the men here-- they weren't men. They were a bunch of children playing dress-up, and wearing expensive suits of brands they cannot pronounce. Their cigars were an accessory. Their fat fingers greedy for money as they are for young women.

You grit your teeth. You were going to find the man who killed your father, and pay him ten-fold.

When lawyers flocked to your door, you had no clue what to do. Unfortunately, you weren't well educated with many matters. And this was one of them. But Albert appeared, and smoothly took over everything. As though he was your father, as though everything belonged to him.

Perhaps ignorance truly is bliss. But it also resulted in you suffering the consequences of having to lean on Albert. Only for him to ask for something in exchange.

"What makes you think you're entitled to trade?" You crossed your arms.

He runs a hand through his bald head. "Well, I just think that it would be fair if you would marry Tenya."

You rolled your eyes. "No one would want to marry me anymore. Especially when I have nothing. I don't think your son even has eyes for me."

Albert waves his hand, nonchalant about your words. "Does it matter? There are still some things that need to be done with the hospital."

Oh.

"I see..." your gaze falls the ground, "You want a temporary marriage between your son and I."

"Yes." The words come out blunt, and it didn't help either. Secretly, you had wished that maybe you could be in a love-filled marriage. But this felt another jab to the gut.

Who knew one could fall beyond the earth and brush the gates of the Underworld.

The only saviour for you must come from hell.

did i just gatekeep you from rindo? yes, yes i did :3

like the fic? read the rest of it here

[paladin-of-nerd-fandom65]

'Who am I to Complain?'

As part of my own contribution to this year's first day of Spring 2024, aka the in universe birthday of one Richard John Grayson-Wayne, the First Robin and the crime fighter known as Nightwing, I would like this opportunity finally....FINALLY...posting up for you all a fic that's been in my drafts for pretty much the better part of any entire year. Originally meant on being released last Christmas, various forms of delay, writer's block and other general distractions have prevented me from finally finishing such a project. Well finally after such anticipation at least on my end, I have managed creating a final form for this story I think can satisfy.

For very quick context, this story is a component of my long running idea proposing and lore building of my own version of the DC Comics Universe. In particular, it takes within the long storyline both @thattimdrakeguy and I have crafted for the better part of two years, the first part being involved within the hypothetical Nightwing solo book, 'Clipped Wings' and its follow up crossover with Detective Comics proper, "Blue Hawk Down'. For more information regarding the general summaries of events, check out the links here and here.

I shall like to dedicate this story to my mutuals and friends @adalineozie @meara-eldestofthemall @nightglider124 @faesystem @confusedhummingbird @spider-jaysart @mothnem @lightdusk96 @camo-wolf @sbd-laytall @theredheaded-stuff @celaenaeiln @starlightbelle @shootingstarssel @avaraydrake @pin-crusher2000 @sillymanwithocs @batboyblog @bluegarners @tarisilmarwen @orange-s-mario @altinyns-multimedia-museblog @katmaatui and so many others

Constructive Criticisms are Generally Welcome; Replies and Especially Reblogs are greatly appreciated

The Following May Contain Graphic Scenes of Violence, References to Sexual Assault and other themes not suitable for a Young Audience. Viewer Discretion is Heavily Advised

As per usual, All Rights and Copyrights to Characters and Concepts seen in this work are owned by DC Comics, Inc, a subsidiary of DC Entertaiment and Warner Bros. Discovery

With all that....Happy Birthday Dick Grayson....Here's my gift of Grade A angst for you

Sigh. Cough Cough

Look at yourself. Just Honest to God, Dick, just look at yourself.

Take a good look at those cuts, that blood all over your ugly as hell face, that blood pouring out of your stupid, big fat hole you call a mouth. You wanna know who’s Goddamn fault it was for all this? You wanna know who's responsible for you being more pathetic and a freak than you already are? Cough Cough

You.

Don’t try to deny it. Why should you? 

After all, you allowed this to happen to you, right? Not just with what happened tonight but over these last few weeks. You know what I’m talking about. Losing your home and failing to find out how despite insisting you paid for it. What will Kory Cough say now when she comes back and sees that home you wanted to allow her into isn’t even yours anymore? What kind of fiance are you to allow that? 

  Why stop there? Here you are, without any place to call a house, your face gushing and oozing red as it had been lately, broke, nobody likes you, not a single damn soul cares about you. You wanna know who’s fault it is? Yours. In fact, as you right now are flinging that bottle of peroxide into your ugly face and stinging from it as you deserve, how about we explore what even happened tonight that led to this, shall we? 

  I think I should…Cough

 Three Hours Earlier….

 BAM 

“Ack!” 

“Tell Us Goddamnit, You Blue Wearing Cunt!!” 

As if I would. How do I tell these bastards where the hell Bruce is if I wasn’t even able to speak to him for weeks by now? 

I know what you’re thinking, ‘but are you his…’

Stop right there right now. If you’re gonna pull that whole ‘you’re his son’  bullshit on me, for one thing, at the very most I was adopted, I ain’t his real kid. I never deserved being his real kid at all given who we are. Another thing too; if he were to come to my help, he would’ve done so about…God knows how many times by now lately. I would handle it anyways, what kind of person needs any sort of father or even friends when it was their own damn fault they wound up taking two  bullets to the hamstrings? 

Why yes, that’s what I’m going through and yes it was my Goddamn fault being this utterly stupid and an utter embarrassment with my training for getting caught by those sickos like I was. Now you are thinking, everyone has an off day and…

BAM BAM BAM BAM 

Crap! Two on the calves and two more on my hamstrings, I can tell. 

“Motherfucker….” Damn it all they weren’t supposed to hear that. Great, now they laugh at it. 

The hell’s wrong with me? There’s no time to let them know what’s going with my nerves acting up. 

“You know, guys” (Cough) Keep it in, Grayson! You got something to say these assholes need to hear Damnit! “ You’re getting absolutely nowhere right now. If I knew where Batman was, I still wouldn’t tell you. So what the hell makes you think I do then after an hour and…” 

“Shut the fuck up, Birdfreak!” 

BAM

A kick right to my face? Yeah, another in my long line of failures and that one was justified; I should’ve seen that one coming. Hey, compared to the bullet holes though, it’s nothing really. Besides why even be hurt by that when I have this lowlife staring directly at my ugly mug of a face right now? 

“You know him, more than us here! You have to know where he went! We got a sweet little gig here and I ain’t rushing to see that pointy eared son of a dick trying to ruin it! ‘Sides, you’re in our hands now, so you see; once we’re all done here one way or another, we can get that dough from the cops since they’re looking for you more than us! Now you tell us if he knows about this place and if he’s coming, will ya?! We ain’t got all night and I’m missing my game!” 

Sweet little gig? As in the child trafficking operation they got here right now? Some of those children right behind me behind a cage like animals, forced to see me pinned on my torso and face, taking crap in many ways from them? They call that ‘sweet’ in mine and their faces?! 

“You calling that a game? Selling kids to sexual slavery? I really hate to see what’ll be your idea for a movie if that’s what you.re saying” That quip, I couldn’t help, it was damn true and these creeps needed to hear that. It was about as much a fact as Bruce hates me right now and rightfully so. 

Yet all they do is laugh even harder than before. They’re really….really starting to get on my nerves. 

Their ringleader grins ever so much in my face. His disgusting and unbearable cigarette smoke billows in my face. “So what?”  

So what? So what?? Is that really your best retort to me? It’s unbelievable, just what kind of devils and evils dwell in this city. But it’s evil I hunt for every single night. No one around me sees what I have to or does what I do around these parts. Not Bruce, not Tim, not Kory, no Donna….no one. On that note,  no one should have to. Maybe it’s my failure to stop evil like this and everything I do, everything so wrong and never good enough, that’s why I’m certain Bruce decided just to cut me off. 

No job, no place I can call a house or a home to stay in, no money, no spare clothes, no answering my calls, nothing. It’s been about three months of this so far, a three month test to see if I break if I had nothing, only for the big bad bat wanting me to literally cry my way back home to him. You know what? Screw you too, Bruce. Or whoever was doing all this. I know that, even for you Bruce, ins outs of everything, even you normally won’t stoop this low. It’s not just nothing I’ve been trying to figure out suggests otherwise. Maybe it’s just this….paranoia….no I can’t be paranoid. What’s happening is real and I need to deal with it and…

“Hey Cockscuker, you listening to me??” 

Oh right, this asshole. 

Looking at him, I can’t help myself but make my eyes go towards his own. What does he think would work now to make me talk? 

In his hands was some sort of object. It looks bladed, I can tell based on the glistening of the steel coming from the moonlight coming in through the window. Once he gets a bit closer, I see it now….oh of course….a damn pizza cutter. Oh and just my luck too, in his other hand is a goddamn cheese grater. I guess either this warehouse is for kitchen  tools or just my karma telling me how much I fucking suck and rightfully so again. Maybe the latter. 

The asshole only grins at me. “Okay then, maybe some…slices can get ya to talk. What do you say?” 

I take a deep breath and brace my teeth within my mouth. No use crying out, screaming or any of that weakness than I already showed earlier . This frankly I deserve, and come on. 

I’ve taken a few swings from a baseball bat from Two Face, got injected with Slade’s nanoscopic probes that were shredding my cells inside and out, got blasted by an alternate Luthor, forcibly swallowed a heart paralyzing pill by Slade and the actual Luthor (that bald cunt)….and now just a circular blade and a metal sheet with blades on it on my forehead and face?

Seems fitting enough to take; whatever I’ve done and didn’t do in my vow to protect the innocent and never strive off the path of justice, being a terrible friend, never good enough for Batman as I had always been, letting the only two people that actually had any right to care for me fall to the sandy and hard floor, shattering almost every bone in their bodies when I had only one job to do which was catch them….yeah this is appropriate. This is exactly what I deserve after all of that. Losing my home, my job, and my means to do basically anything for myself, I deserve that.

Who am I to complain, really? 

  Back at the Present Day….

   Sssszzzz….

“Ah Fuck!” 

Peroxide…it never fails to emit any sort of sting on any sort of cut, don’t it, Dick? 

Oh but you gonna start cussing and feeling it now? What the hell’s wrong with you? You can’t handle just a tiny sting of this shit without any yells? 

Suck it up, will ya? You’re acting like a spoiled brat. 

Who are you to complain about really?

Oh and by the way, there goes the last of our Peroxide, just circling down this old bathroom sink drain into God knows sewer pipes along with the blood it splashed off. You're gonna have to fetch some more, Dick. It’s not like Bruce is gonna get us anymore. 

Fuck Him. 

We’ve been putting up with his shit every since we lost are damn place to stay in, then our jobs all over this city, villain after villain breaking out, us being blamed for the Mayor, his wife and girl getting ripped to shreds and blood all over one day with one of your Wingdings, making you hunted down from pretty much everyone (for what only $1.5 Billion Alive? Oh c’mon that's too generous of a bounty for you. I’d put myself at about only 25 cents given your piss poor track record); You know for sure Bruce did all this, all behind the scenes, pulling every string he can to get us like this. 

 And why? Letting him know that you can take care of ourselves that one time and him being this offended by it? Well, fuck it, You’ve been showing him alright! Things are shittybut maybe that’s just how he likes it for you. Nothing gonna change that anytime soon; might as well make it the best for you, because it’s all you can do by now. 

  So now, no shoes, no fucking good socks at all, only one pair of torn sweats, that black tee, suit and toothbrush in your bag, here in this damn blizzard….every breathe getting…heavier….kinda….getting hard to stay awa…Cough Cough Cough

  Hey! Cut it out, Dickface! Cough Keep going at least somewhere! Anywhere out of this snow…so much of it….Wait, that spot there, in this alley. That’ll work for now. 

You hear that, laying on this backpack now….yeah this’ll work….at least not being out in that wind, though…..so much snow….it’s everywhere. It’s been everywhere these last few days. Fitting really, since well you do hear that right?

  C’mon pick it up, Dick, your ears can’t be that piss poor 

Cough

  “May I, as your new Mayor, wish us all in this dear Bludhaven…..”

   Yeah, there it is…..old Mafia boss now politician giving his speech for what today is. 

    “A Good…Merry ... .Christmas…!” 

   Okay, you get the idea. At least that’s one thing you got right….

   Getting sleepy now….

…...pretty cold…..tomorrow might be better….

But at least that’s one thing, Dick….

…this damn city….all of its people….they got a good Christmas….

Gotta close your eyes now…..

Wait….that the Redbird….isn't that….can’t be Timmy…..

Cough Cough

 Heh…looks like he tripped…Not real though….can’t be…..Bruce doesn’t care….you don’t need him…..but yeah….need rest…..you gave them a good Christmas 

Who…am….I….to….Cough…..Complain?

[uchihamasacre]

Abnormal (Levi Ackerman x Reader)

here’s the link to my Levi Ackerman fic “Abnormal” !!

summary:

“what happens when Levi finds out y/n has slept with everyone but him?”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48218632