#scarecrow chittering

[deathiscoldbatman]

Does anyone else in the House fandom just constantly think about the fact Foreman was showing symptoms of rabies in that one episode and didn't die?? Because I am. It's just there in the back of my head....churning. Far from the weirdest moment on the show but lmao what

[deathiscoldbatman]

Reblogging to my main too. I am so tired. Also this goes for complicated blog themes where I can only view the blog without eyestrain on mobile.

[Okay, I know I also use tiny text sometimes as a meme format demands but - dear roleplaying side of Tumblr :

Can all of you please be more considerate with not using the harder to decipher messletters on every single post of yours? There's a ton of DC Comics and OC blogs I'd like to have started a rapport with but which I've had to block because I physically cannot read their posts and it's therefore annoying when they come up on my dash. Screen readers and text to speech can't do everything.

Thanks,

Archie]

[bloodcovered-creechurs]

A small portal opened in the woods near the manor, a small Bloodmoon jumping out from it. He dusted his hood and cape off before glancing around, red swirled eyes scanning the area, “this would make for a great hunting ground!”

A small red and blue snake peeked out from his hood, curled under the scarf around his neck, “perhaps it is, better to leave it be”

The hooded bot nodded at his twin’s statement, turning around and staring in awe at the manor. He giggled a bit as he started making his way over to the place, his twin whispering to him to remember what they were there for before hiding further in his hood so as to not be spotted

[On the porch of the manor lay a behemoth of a Bloodmoon, it lay sprawled out on the weathered wooded steps. It was sleeping sounding, chittering and rumbling as it dozed. Also on the porch was a Sun model with the appearance of a scarecrow, picking at their clawed hands as they sat about, rays ticking on slowly]

[puppetmaster13u]

For any of your cryptid batfam AUs. We know Batman thinks criminals are superstitious and cowardly. So how superstitious should most Gothamites be? What are some of the superstitions and things they do because of that? And what random BS do the Bat kids do to actively encourage the superstitions because they think it’s funny?

Vibrates in headcanons.

Okay, so, this is less just the criminals of Gotham- a lot of goons are just trying to put food on the table after all- and more of, Gothamites in general. Like they have good reason to be superstitious.

Like everyone already knows about the Court of Owls, if nothing else then from the Rhyme they use to get children to behave. But Gotham? Is Weird with a capital W even in canon. There are literal streets that disappear and only reappear on certain days, areas where on specific days gravity just doesn't work right, several portals to hell have been opened just in Arkham alone, and there's enough curses and cults to smother any other place.

Funnily enough I am actually currently working on a story that focuses a bit more on the superstitions of Gotham lol. Like a lot of this stuff? Not shit you're going to see in the more tourist-esque spots, but those are death traps already.

Now a lot of the habits and myths of Gotham start out as a thing about Survival. It started less with things about the Bats and more about the Rogues and how to survive.

Tiny plant boxes meticulously cared for, after one noticed how plants react when Ivy is around. They line the windows of almost every home despite the smog, and some even pray through them for their Mother to not attack today.

Small scarecrow dolls, made of grass balls and cloth hang from overhangs on roofs with rope like a hangman, a charm in hopes that the one walking the streets will leave them alone. It ends with some claiming that if you rip the head from the body of cloth, the Scarecrow will come for you.

Small candles and lanterns begin to appear on the windowsills of children, their own homemade batsignals. Some say if you're very good, gifts will appear beside it, while others claim that if you're very bad, the Signal will appear and take you away.

Tiny shrines appear on rooftops over the years, meticulously carved statuettes within. It started with one for the Second Robin, and some whisper about how the Red Hood emerged from it, was reborn through their prayers and gifts. Now there are more, offerings ranging from snacks to child's drawings to figures of clay. No one dares take things from it, the last time someone tried... well, let's just say it didn't end well.

The thing is? The Bats don't even have to do much to encourage this, and don't usually even do it on purpose.

Everyone knows what happened to the ones who tried to be a vigilante. They know of the first Batgirl, humanity slowly dripped away the longer she huddled in the Bat's shadow until she was twisting around just like it. Any child who had been making their own costumes, their parents burned it that night, terrified that the Bat would take their children to be its own next. The small child, everyone knew about him, a wee little thing with a camera clutched against his chest. They all saw him run after the Bats despite the protests, saw him run towards the Bat as bodies crumbled before it. They saw him grab its arm with such tiny hands, and the Bat, grieving, stopped. They all saw the Bat whisk him away, and once more whispered to their children to never follow the Bats into the shadows. They know of the girl cloaked in amethyst cloth, who chased after them despite the warnings and pleadings of others. She disappeared, and the faceless thing of chittering laughs that raced the Robin that appeared in her stead... Everyone knows what happens to those who offer themselves to the Bats, knowingly or not.

Robin can mimic voices, their own childish giggles and clicks echoing across the stone slipping into another's words. What is merely a game to them is horrific for anyone wandering the streets in the dark of the night. Some say that it can steal your voice permanently if it so wished.

Everyone in Gotham knows that the Bats aren't human. Oh they might mimic and pretend to be as such, or even had been at some point, but they're confident they aren't. Even if they put on an act outside of Gotham, corpse-like skin gaining hints of color like blood is actually rushing through veins, everyone knows that's what it is. An act.

The Bats themselves? Well, it keeps their civilian identity safe- and the shrines have helped them get children out of bad home lives and to safety, so they're not going to just... not encourage it.

[hushhushchild]

Day 1 - Marking Territory

Your feet crunch through the leaf litter below. The days are winnowing smaller and the wind loses its warmth. As the town’s apothecary, you have exactly one role - keep the people healthy. After a sudden outbreak of gnoll flu struck your small town, your stock of rosemary was running dangerously low… and it can only be found in the deep woods.

Those dark, decrepit woods. Those which seem to swallow up life itself. Those branches who reach out at anything which goes near. And by the gods - the scarecrows. Yes, those crude hay effigies which guard the perimeter of what you term ‘deep woods’. Your spine trembles whenever you go near them, and right now is no different. Your fists clutch tighter onto your foraging pack, and you push past that invisible barrier the scarecrows demark.

As soon as your boot plants itself into the crisp underbrush, the various sounds of the forest flee. Chirping of birds, rushing of winds, every ounce of it. The silence ensues like darkness, after a candle was blown out. All that remains? The huffing of your breath, and the crunching of the leaves. Here and there, you pluck the patches of rosemary.

Those gorgeous purple blooms quickly begin to burst your pack at the seams. The ground seems overflowing wherever you glance– you can’t just leave good product behind–

Oh. It’s night now. You look up from the heaping bundle, seeing nothing but the pale light of the moon. Your mind must have wandered away in the monotony… right? You’ll simply head back to your house - but which way was it? Over there, you recognize a tree you passed… but over here, there’s a rock you almost tripped over…

…

You’re lost. Stuck within the bowels of the forest. With nothing but rosemary – only rosemary, poking around every corner and shrub. It’s choking the forest, and you along with it. You run. You run as far and as fast as your aching legs and burning lungs can take you. Until you finally collapse, in a heap in the blooms.

The leaves rustle behind you. Twigs snap, branches twist, trunks creak. You can’t even look at the disturbance before it’s upon you. A long, clawed presence ensnares your torso, ripping you off the ground. Immediately, you smell the thing first. Floral. Woody. As if you condensed the forest into a sweet perfume. Mere inches from your face lies deep, forboding eyes. Sharp antlers. Gaunt cheekbones, mossy skin. Like a corpse, reclaimed by the woods. The more you stare at the figure, the more you recognize it’s once-womanly-features.

A dryad. Or some warped, twisted form thereof. “Such greed,” it hisses, “in such a small form. I trusted you, you know. I believed the sweet lie of you only taking what you needed. Because I trusted you… foolishly. But you finally snapped. Started taking all your greedy, fleshy hands could clasp around. Such damage is nigh-irreparable.”

“N-nigh?” Your voice squeaks. A meek whisper. The chittering of a rodent before a hawk.

“Yes… nigh. For it can be repaired, human. Through… payment, the forest may heal. It’s a dire, dire cost. But a necessary one. Pay it, or your bones will be fertilizer.”

You stare ahead blankly. Your coffers aren’t exactly lined with gold — a dire cost is out of the question. You open your mouth, but a thorny claw closes your mouth shut.

“Your soul. Through the form of a contract, you would bequeath it to the forest. To be its guardian, its protector, its stalwart defender. You would live this life to completion, but the next may be spent in my visage.”

Of course, it figures that any contract needed to be signed. But a being of nature’s might only respects nature’s acts. And what more primal than that of sex, of intimacy. In a flash, her claws tend ribbons from your leathers. As nude as the day you were born, shivering in the mist.

In an almost tender gesture, a finger teases your entrance. It’s sharp, but smooth, like a well worn branch. It slides in without much resistance, starting to work back and forth, loosening you up. Gentle murmurs fill the air as she closely fills you with more and more of her claws. Your hands clutch to her shoulders as her movements grow rougher, more intense.

You almost expect to cum on her fingers before they slip out of your hole. A low whine escapes from your throat before they quickly shift into a long, slow moan. Some vine, tendril, or limb has found its way inside. Slippery, warm, wet. It fills you quick, as if ravenous, devouring every ounce of your pleasure.

Uncontrollable moans flow from your lips as she bounces you up and down her cock. Your fists pound limply against her bark-skin, some desperate attempt to regain your composure. Normally, one might react in contempt - maybe even rage - over the gesture. But she…

…

She laughs. A gentle noise. Like that of a songbird, floating in the wind. Such a snide, soft sound, you find yourself relaxing into her grasp. Against your better judgement, she comforts you with her light touch. The dryad thrusts up into your quivering form, before you begin tightening around her shaft.

“You’re close, aren’t you?”

Oh, how right she was. You practically explode on her cock, sealing the contract with hot, sticky love.

~+~

For the month of October, I wanted to get in the spooky spirit! Naturally, I followed Ozzgin’s Monstober list - though none of those will be as long as this one - and will post these every day. Look forward to it! I certainly do…

[deathiscoldbatman]

....okay trans man Deadshot is actually a fucking power move but we'll get to that [we won't]. Actually, trans man "any uber masculine, impossibly ripped character" is a power move.

Something something I am the storm that is approaching. I am the one who knocks. I am the trans man Deadshot. I am also slowly going insane. I see a suicidal man with intimacy issues who thinks he must atone for his existence and comes off as a tad frigid and go "That's a mood Gabriella". Floyd is my babygirl, my blorbo, but also WOW he is literally me down to the "we do not deserve to live because of our own actions".

[Honestly, Floyd would probably support trans rights. Not because he particularly knows anything about being trans on a personal level, he's just some cis bi man, but because he's not that much of a tool and frankly every member of the LGBT community can find common ground. And also yeah it's probably an easier way to get in some hot babes' pants.]

[twcfaces]

Are the shadows in that corner a little... denser than natural? Should they be moving like that when there was no flickering light in this room? The shadow... moves. Lurching forward. All tentacles and too many glowing moonlight eyes. "Why?" It hisses, with hundreds of voices, male and female, old and young all layered over each other. "Why?" It asks again, agitation showing in the shuddering of its outline and the chittering of too sharp teeth in a too wide mouth. -arobinwithoutbatman ((one cryptid in a bad mood!))

He's going to have to note this one down as a side-effect -

- that's the first thing he thinks, having settled into his cell for the night.

Sometimes medicine did weird shit - and sometimes the other inmates did even weirder shit. The Joker, Scarecrow, even Poison Ivy - chemical and psychedelic dangers, were not unthinkable here. Who knew what kind of drugs were being passed around or what powers were at work? He couldn't exactly leap up from his position on the floor in his restraints, but he did back himself into an opposing corner and pull his legs closer to his chest.

"Why what? Where'd you crawl out from? If this is someone's way of screwing with me, I have all night to sit here and waste their time."

@arobinwithoutbatman

[mascarerii]

Erm,,,,,, uh. hey ignore this if you know me personally /j I actually don’t care but if you come and bully me on discord I’ll cry. /nsrs

ALSO THANKS @scarecrow-teeth FOR HELPING MY DUMB ASS FIGURE OUT A TITLE

Anyways

Sleeping Soundly

CW// Spoilers, Direct talk about Plot, uhh and fluff. gay people. gay people warning!!!! /j

Inspired by This Piece

It was a few weeks after Black Mesa, and every.. horror that happened. The science team had all dispersed, returning to their own lives; but still staying in contact. Something Gordon was thankful for. He had grown to really like the science team— I mean, they managed to make him laugh in maybe the worst possible scenario he’d ever been in— in his entire life. That’s special, and they’re just as special to him. And, surprisingly, Benrey was included.

Not at first, oh hell no. When the alien stumbled up at Gordon’s door maybe a few hours after the Chuck-e-Cheese party for Tommy, he nearly slammed the door shut in his face. But he didn’t. He looked banged up, a bit, which was unusual for him; not to mention how he was.. shivering. He was cold? He could feel cold?

So, he ended up letting Benrey stay the night.

Which turned into two nights.

Then three.

And, now, the alien basically unofficially lived with him. He felt rather.. cozy, in Gordon’s life. They chatted, they chatted a lot— but they did end up touching base on.. what happened at Black Mesa. Benrey claimed he didn’t mean for any of that to happen, at least with the arm; for the ending? He claimed he.. didn’t really feel in control. Like he was forced to.

And, honestly? That was enough for Gordon to forgive him. Maybe he was just desperate to not see Benrey as ‘bad’, or maybe he had just gone soft in the aftermath; maybe he had gone soft for the alien in particular— who knows. But either way, he forgave Benrey. From then on, Benrey got very, very insistent that they were ‘bestest buds’. Gordon didn’t dispute, much to the alien’s delight.

Currently, it was about the 26th night Benrey was here— almost a full month. They had grown to have a weird.. routine, of sorts. After Black Mesa, Gordon grew to have.. horrific insomnia; and when he did sleep, it was usually wracked with nightmares. To combat this, Benrey would usually take to finding him crumpled up in his sheets on the floor and would give him a healthy dose of blue sweet voice to his face. He always calmed down, and it made Benrey feel.. useful, honestly. But, after that, Gordon never wanted to sleep— at least for a few hours. So, he’d stick up with Benrey. This started out as them just both being awake; then Gordon starting to check in on him; to Gordon joining Benrey as he gamed, and watching. They never spoke much when this happened, but the silence was.. comfortable. Really comfortable.

It felt really domestic, an uncanny feeling both of them had slowly grown used to after the weeks they’ve spent together.

Gently squeezing the arm he had around Benrey’s shoulders as he leaned in, the screen of the Switch (Benrey really, really wanted one— so did Joshua, so he complied) burning his eyes. He felt heavy and drowsy, but anytime his eyes drooped to shut— they’d snap open. Benrey gently leaned into him as his shoulders were squeezed, giving a sort of ‘mrr’ sound afterwards. Gordon found it cute, even though he’d flick those thoughts into the back of his mind whenever they arose.

But not this time.

Instead, he took to actually.. looking over Benrey; his squinted eyes with the screen reflecting in them, his tiny blue tongue stuck out in pure focus at his game, how his expression would occasionally soften each time Gordon squeezed his shoulders. It was a lot more entertaining than the game, even though watching Benrey play was really relaxing. Somehow, this sight was even better.

“Mm,.. Hey, Benrey?”

Murmuring, voice a slurred and tired mumble, his internal thought process spouting out a few panicked ‘what are you doing?’s, but he didn’t care.

“‘Sup?”

Chittering out the reply, gaze still glued to the screen, they’d lean into the other again. Their expression softened as they did. Cute.

“.. y’look nice..”

He’d ignore the surge of panic that fluttered through his chest, along with the prickling of heat on his cheeks. His gaze was just trained on Benrey’s face— despite how heavy his eyes felt. He watched Benrey’s eyebrows quirk up a bit, paired with him nearly messing up something on his game. He watched as a light blue flooded his cheeks, and a nervous grin replaced his previous ‘blep’-like expression. It was cute. He found it, honestly, cute.

“Err,.. thanks, bro. Kinda cringe, though.”

Chuckling out the words in a wispy, nervous slew, they’d press against Gordon again.

“Mmph,.. what’s cringe about it?”

“I ‘unno, you’re the one randomly complimenting me.”

“..What??”

“What??”

Physically feeling the cogs in his brain, he’d soon sigh— far too tired for Benrey’s antics. Instead, he’d lean over to rest his head atop the other’s head— arms snaking around his torso. For being so.. inhuman, they sure were warm.

Benrey didn’t say anything in response, simply following the other’s movements as he tried desperately to focus on his game. He couldn’t look like a noob just because he was getting cuddled, or some shit. Bros cuddled all the time, didn’t they? Yeah. This is normal. But after a handful of moments, he could feel Gordon go heavy; limp. And he couldn’t really disregard the way he could feel his chest flutter a bit once he felt the other’s weight on him. After his round, he’d crane his head up— without moving him— as much as he could. Gordon’s eyes were shut, lips drawn into a small, loosely held smile. He looked.. peaceful.

Really peaceful.

With a soft hum, he’d stare— before snapping his gaze away. Snuggling up against the other, he’d huff— muttering something about ‘nap time’ to himself as he buried himself in Gordon’s arms. After having put the screen down, finally, his eyes were burning a lot more. And felt a lot more heavy.

Soon, they shut; just like Gordon’s.

[deathiscoldbatman]

Fine yeah I'm down. 👀

• Deadshot and/or Bronze Tiger - team staples in decades past, probably team co-leader with Rick Flag Jr. Dies towards the end of the run in an unexpected way, probably. "No one is safe" after all.

• Doctor Poison - Princess Maru. Chemistry, toxicology and overall chemical weapons expert, ffs as a Japanese-American KEEP HER JAPANESE DC we will not entertain the idea of white Dr. Poison. Canonically a trained soldier so she's no stranger to combat, but it's clear her strength lies in her mind. I could honestly see her dying whenever, but personally I have a soft spot for poison experts and it shows.

• Celsius - Doom Patrol member that DC kind of forgot about over the years, she is both cryokinetic and pyrokinetic. Canonically trained in martial arts like most DC characters sigh. I mention her specifically as there is some canon precedence to the Doom Patrol and Task Force X having interacted before. Dies but in a way that comes completely out of left field.

• Gaius Grieves Thinker - deserves better than a cameo. You could easily say he faked his canonical death via psychic projection, or say that this is a timeline where he never died. Canon electrokinetic, walking EMP, thinks he's a master of psychological manipulation. Wild card but surprisingly won't get blown to bits as the fear of death is enough to get him to obey and Ben/Floyd's existence is enough to get him to rein it in most of the time.

• The Heckler - Stu Mosley, hero whose literal only superpower is to be annoying as fuck. Bit of a Captain Boomerang stand-in where the joke is that everything should kill him, but somehow he survives. Can also be good comic relief.

• Ms. Clay or Black Orchid [any] - Black Orchid was already part of the 1980's series but I personally found her to be underutilized. Point being, both are canonically masters of disguise and not too shabby in combat. Plus I specifically mention Ms. Clay as she was literally created for a Suicide Squad comic, in fact the Hell to Pay tie-in. A lot of people don't realize there's another female Clayface other than Sondra Fuller. Mixed on whether they die or not, and when.

• Insect Queen [alternate universe Lana Lang] - literally her superpower is being Ratcatcher but with bugs. Also telepathy, making for great synergy with Thinker. Aside from the Legion of Superheroes version of her she's a fairly obscure character, and likely to be cannon fodder.

I’ll go first…

1. Captain Cold (Team Leader)

(✅SURVIVES) = Amanda Waller makes him the team leader because he follows direction and willing to sacrifice any of his teammates in order to complete the mission. His only concerned with completing the mission and keeping himself alive.

2. Poison Ivy [Human plant hybrid Version] (Chemical weapons expert)

(✅SURVIVES) = Gets shot up by a hell of bullets. Midway of the mission regrows herself like Groot or slime thing.

3. Bane (Muscle / Strategic)

(💀DIES) = Injects too much venom to his system that triggers the bomb in his neck. His head explodes instantly.

4. Cheetah (Stealth / Hand to hand fighter)

(💀DIES) = Tries to sneak behind enemy lines. She gets caught because one of the guards happens to be allergic to cats. They released A whole bunch of Vicious guard Dogs, which brutally attacked her to death.

5. Snow Flame (Super alert look out guy)

(💀DIES) = Does a bunch of cocaine then gets eaten by King Shark

6. King Shark (Extra Muscle)

(✅SURVIVES) = Not realizing that Snow Flame super powers are from cocaine. Becomes ridiculously high after eating Snow Flame. Then goes ballistic on the rest of the team. Captain Cold shoots him with his freeze gun, but fish don’t die when they freeze. So throughout the rest of the mission he’s in a frozen block of ice until the mission is done.

7. Creeper (Acrobatic skills / Comedic relief)

(✅SURVIVES) = Despite countless close calls somehow survive towards the end of the mission. But then after Amanda Waller sits off the bomb in his head anyway. It’s because the whole time he was creeping on all the women, making them uncomfortable by sexually harassing them. So no big loss when he’s gone, good riddance. (💀DIES)

[deathiscoldbatman]

If I had a nickel for every time someone at Team Starkid came up with a candy-themed/candy-adjacent villain played by a woman whose color scheme was mostly light pink, I'd have 2 nickels. Which isn't a lot but it's getting kind of weird that it keeps happening if we also add Sweet Tooth in there to the general thematics.

[jesslivesau]

Fav eps per season:

S1: Faith, Scarecrow, Something Wicked. Resisting the urge to say the pilot

S2: in my time of dying, everybody loves a clown, born under a bad sign, croatoan, ahbl, what is and what should never be. This is so many cuz s2 RULES

S3: a very spn Christmas, malleus malificarum, jus in bello (shoutout to ghostfacers and dream a little dream of me tho)

S4: Lazarus rising, the rapture, on THEE head of a pin, (props to When the levee breaks/Lucifer rising tho)

S5: abandon all hope, dark side of the moon, hammer of the gods, I feel contractually obligated to say swan song

S6: exile on main st, clap your hands if you believe, caged heat, THE FRENCH MISTAKE, THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING, i forgot how much I Truly Enjoy s6

S7: defending your life, death’s door....maybe plucky pennywhistle’s if I had to pick

S8: goodbye stranger, taxi driver, citizen fang.... hunteri heroici is also up there

S9: BAD BOYS.... then probably first born cuz I like cain’s first appearance

S10: soul survivor, fan fiction

S11: just my imagination.... some I Like just fine but aren’t my favorite, like the vessel, red meat, the chitters, don’t call me shurley

S12: American nightmare....that’s about it lmfao even tho there are a couple of ones that are Enjoyable

S13: uhhhh.....tombstone? I’m partial to a few scenes in The Big Empty and various and sundry villains but not the eps as a whole

S14: u guys aren’t gonna like this but. Moriah. Maybe damaged goods if I’m in the right mood for the rami malek box

S15: Rupture... I also like hero’s journey and the trap but rowena’s death is the last time I felt a genuine emotion about spn lmfao

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober Day 16

Hallucinations

Ao3

-o-o-o-o-

"Nightwing, report."

Bruce says it more heartlessly than he means to. Here he is, dragging his eldest child through the grimy streets of the Theater District, kicking up abandoned, soggy pieces of litter as they stumble inch by inch towards the Batmobile, and he asks his barely lucid son to report as he hangs around Bruce's shoulder by a limp arm. 

And maybe it's just the quote unquote emotional constipation in him. Maybe whenever he sees any of his children this out of commission, something inside of him subconsciously crawls away to hide. Turn his face. Harden every single one of his outer layers until the sight of pain in his children's faces just doesn't bother him as much as it probably should. 

It does bother him. He just can't ever bring himself to show it while they're still in the heat of the moment. 

"Chum," he repeats when Dick simply lets out a little mewl. "Can you make it back to the cave?" 

:READMORE:

Dick shakes his head against Bruce's shoulder, pain wrinkling the skin at the corners of his wandering eyes. Bruce noted Dick's been looking slightly off and to the left for the past five minutes. Bruce wishes he could see what Dick sees right now, tell him whatever he's seeing over there isn't real and it's all Crane's fear toxin, but he knows better. He's worked with plenty of victims who hallucinate enough times to know the worst thing you could do was ask them about the sights and sounds they were experiencing. Whether it's illusions caused by drugs or a mentally ill patient in Arkham, asking them to verbalize and explain was just as good as making it a reality for them. 

Bringing it out of their heads and into the real world. 

Judging by how Dick's still managing to get his legs to work alongside Bruce as they walk a little further, the delusions he's seeing must not be fully effecting him. 

"B- I…" Dick swallows and shakes his head again. "It's bad this- this time. I- I don't know if… if I can…"

He cuts off with a groan and Bruce drags them forward ever faster, wincing at the strain of the movement added with Dick's extra weight bearing down upon his wounded calf, sliced open by Scarecrow's scythe not ten minutes ago. 

Bruce has already administered the antidote into Dick's bloodstream, but it seems Crane has altered his formula once again. The most it's doing is slowing down the effects, but Bruce knows that sooner or later Dick will be completely lost to his nightmares, and Bruce will be helpless to do anything but work as fast as he can to create an antidote. 

"Just hold on, chum, just one more street and we'll be in the car, then we can figure all of this out."

Curse Crane for being around long enough to know that Bruce's most important tricks and tricks are within his utility belt. He got a lucky swipe at his hips during the heat of their now finished battle and broke a lot of the wiring he has within the device. The button to summon the Batmobile was broken, and seeing as Alfred was currently out of the country and most of his kids off doing their own things, he couldn't have anyone manually drive the Batmobile towards them. 

He's just glad Damian went with Alfred to England. The lad needed a trip out, and Alfred was happy to suggest bringing him along. Because, while that might mean there's no one to help Bruce while Dick is dosed up on fear toxin like this, it also means Damian won't have to see his eldest brother like this. 

"Br's," Dick mumbles beside him as the place where Bruce parked the Batmobile comes into sight. 

"Yes, chum?" 

"I can't… I- think-"

Suddenly, Dick jerks away from Bruce's grasp, and thanks to the blood-loss in his leg, he isn't quite strong enough to stop Dick from slipping from his hands and collapsing onto the floor, whining and trying to get back to his feet with the strength of a newborn fawn. 

Bruce rushes forward. "Nightwing!" 

He tries to grab at Dick and lift him back up, but Dick yelps and flinches violently like he's been shocked. "No please!" 

And… shit. The fear toxin is finally taking full effect. Of course it's had to happen now, when they were so close to the Batmobile. Within a millisecond, Bruce tries to determine what kind of procedures he'll have to enact to get Dick into the car and back to the cave. Does Dick simply need space? Or does he need to be restrained?

He should plan on restraints. Always plan for every outcome, but prepare for the worst case scenario first. It's a lesson he's forced himself to learn over the years, one he's taught to every child who he's ever mentored and called his own. 

"Please no, please stop-" Dick continues to whimper, slowly stumbling to his feet and backing up like he's one blow of the wind from falling over. "I can't-"

And Bruce moves. As much as seeing Dick like this hurts him, he also knows the longer the toxin is in Dick's system, the more potential damage it could do. It will be better in the long run to ignore Dick's internal struggles and get him to the cave than it would be to not startle him. 

Dick tries to fight him, his breaths coming out in panicked bursts as Bruce grabs onto his upper body and pins him to his chest. Dick immediately begins to struggle, his back to Bruce's chest and his arms trapped between Bruce's restraining ones. He yells out, screams to be let go and left alone, but Bruce grinds his teeth and manhandles Dick towards the car, forcing himself to ignore the pulsing pain in his leg or how he'll definitely have to stitch it himself later.

He gets to the car thankfully without anyone coming out to see what the ruckus was about. People scream all the time in the Theater District despite Bruce's constant attempts to lower the rate of crime. Where in normal cities, people would probably at least look out their windows to see what commotion was about, in Crime Alley it was smarter to keep the blinds shut and the doors locked. 

Shoving Dick into the car takes tremendous effort. Dick's full on panicking now, trying to hit and kick at Bruce with everything he's got, and by the time Bruce has him locked into the back of the Batmobile where the chair with restraints reside, he's sporting a number of new bruises along his chest and jaw.

He shuts the foot and leans against the car for a moment, catching his breath as a wave of dizziness crashes into him. Dick's writhing within the restraints of the chair, screaming and kicking, clawing at any straps his fingers can barely grasp at. 

Bruce sucks in a breath of air, hardens the shell around him, then limps towards the driver's seat. 

By the time he skids to a stop within the cave, Dick's gone from screaming and struggling to crying and heartbreaking attempts to simply curl up. Multiple times during the ride, he's called for Bruce to save him. To swoop in and make the pain stop. Multiple times he apologizes for not being good enough. For always failing. 

Bruce wants nothing more than to tell him that he's here, and that he'll fix this, and that he considers the man Dick Grayson is today to be one of his greatest achievements. Never a disappointment. 

But his vision is woozy and he feels nauseous thanks to the blood-loss, and he knows Dick will be deaf to any reassurances until he has an antitoxin in his system. There is no point in wasting time. Not when he could be spending it curing Dick's fears and then making sure he doesn't bleed to death. 

Because he's pretty sure if he bleeds to death while Alfred is in England, the man will bring Bruce back to life just so he can kill him himself. 

He slams his fingers on the button that opens all the doors of the Batmobile and then stumbles out. He leaves Dick restrained to the chair for the moment while he practically trips over his own feet towards the lab where he grabs a roll of gauze and ties it around his leg. He then grabs the nearest clean syringe, turns, and prepares himself for what he's about to do. 

He takes off his cowl, in hopes a familiar face will make the process easier, but Dick still sobs and screams and begs as Bruce shoves the needle into his arm anyway. 

"I'm sorry, please, it hurts- it hurts-"

He forces himself to tune it out, rushing back towards the lab as quickly as his hastily bandaged wound would allow and begins to analyze Dick's blood. Dick doesn't stop whimpering for the entire process, and by the time Bruce has an antitoxin ready, he's practically numb.

Numb to Dick's constant sobbing and expressions of fear. Numb to his own body. 

Everything spins as he walks like a dead man towards his son one final time. As much as it initially pained him to do, he's glad now that he has Dick restrained like this. He's so weak that he knows he wouldn't be able to fight off Dick's writhing if he were free.

He presses the needle into Dick's neck, ignoring how his cries and shouts become louder, his struggling becoming more violent. However, there's nothing Dick can do to fend off Bruce like this, and soon the entirety of the antitoxin in running its course through his system.

Both Bruce and Dick collapse, Bruce because of the overtaking dizziness, Dick because the fear toxin is now in process of being nullified. 

Dick's still hallucinating, Bruce can tell, but they're not as violent as what they were just a few minutes ago. Bruce can't really look and see through, he can barely keep his eyes open. It's all he can do to lean against the car and rest his head near where Dick's thighs sit on the chair. He can feel Dick twitching every so often, but the twitches become smaller the more time goes by. 

Eventually, Dick's whimpers become nothing more than tired sighs, and Bruce finally lets his eyes close. 

-o-o-o-o-

Bruce wakes up what must be hours later. He knows this, because the chittering in the cave above him is louder, a sign that it's morning and the bats are slowly beginning to return home.

He's laying on his back on top of one of the metal lab tables, various beakers and tools pushed to the side to make room for his body. His entire leg is numb, but not in the way that meant blood-loss and infection, but one that suggested a numbing agent. He groans and gets his elbows under him, wincing at the strain in his spine from the hard surface of the table. There's a tug in his wrist that belongs to an IV hooked to a bag of blood, and when he looks down he can see his leg has been expertly wrapped. Various medical tools lay forgotten by his legs along with a bloodied needle and a spool of medical thread. 

Then, his eyes catch onto a very pale, but peacefully resting Dick Grayson. Bruce has no idea how he escaped the restraints of the Batmobile, dragged Bruce all the way here, and patched up his leg, but judging by how he's absolutely knocked out cold, curled up in a very uncomfortable metal chair, it took a lot of strain for him to pull off. 

Bruce is just glad that Dick managed to escape the restraints after the antitoxin was administered, and not before. 

Slowly, Bruce slides the IV out from his arm and climbs off the table, cautious of his bad leg. Dick doesn't move as Bruce approaches, which is probably for the best. Bruce carefully brushes his hand against Dick's cheek, and finally lets himself feel something when Dick hums sleepily and leans into his touch. 

Dick is twenty-seven years old. But Bruce knows that Dick could grow to be forty, or eighty, or older, and Bruce would always see him as that little eight year old who first somersaulted into his life, the same little boy stood in front of Bruce with a determined set to his jaw; demanding Bruce let him out at night to fight crime.

"Dick," Bruce whispers, moving his hand up a little to sneakily check his temperature as Dick's eyelashes flutter open. "Chum, Alfred will murder us if we sleep all night in the cave."

"But'm comfy," Dick mumbles through a yawn and Bruce finds a grin slowly spreading on his lips.

"No you're not. Come on, up."

Dick groans as Bruce wraps his hand around his bicep to coax him to his feet. Soon enough, Bruce has Dick leaning against his side, arms wrapped around each other to support both of their weights. Together, they walk towards the stairs, dreading the walk up but knowing they can do it as long as they have each other.

[coyotescribbles]

The ship was quiet as Artemis descended into the cargo hold. Most of Noble had retired to their bunks, with little else to do while enveloped in the pitch-black of slipspace, but she wasn't feeling particularly tired.

So she found herself looking in on their “passengers.”

It was dark in the belly of the ship, allowing her to perfectly make out Gently Rises' bioluminesence where it was curled in on itself in whatever passed for Huragok “sleep,” and the weak, gently guttering glow of Scarecrow's lights. Those stirred as she crept across the cool floor, and the dull orange array of his faceplate turned towards her with a soft crinkling sound.

That caught her off-guard for a moment, until her vision fully adjusted and she saw the mess of tarps the robot was nestled down in; Artemis couldn't help but smile at the realization that Nate must have dug out every tarp she could find to make a softer bed for her friend than some cramped metal crate.

"Hey," she whispered, stopping a short distance away and sinking down to sit back on her heels.

The pilot tilted his head, silent... then slowly extended one shaky arm, as if shielding something. Cocking her own head, she peered past him - to see a third figure curled up on the floor, half on the nest of tarps.

That had to be Nate.

"It's all right, you're both safe here,” Artemis said, as reassuringly as she could. “Nate came to us for help, and my team and I were happy to give it." Well, maybe not Emile, but he sucked it up and came along anyway.

"We weren't properly introduced earlier,” she continued quietly, “given everything that was happening at the time. My name's Artemis, and I’ve heard all about you, Scarecrow."

Scarecrow considered her carefully for another long moment, before drawing his arm back once more and laying his head down on the tarps, the lights of his faceplate scintillating like embers.

Even in the dark, she could clearly see the sorry shape he was in - missing most of his limbs and many armor plates; what was left of the tarnished brassy plating was brittle, charred and deeply pitted by what had to have been intense heat. His whole body trembled visibly, and numerous exposed wires hung lifeless and dark - entirely unlike those of Kat's Robot when he had been damaged. She got the distinct impression that that may have been something deliberately inflicted on him.

She didn't even need to wonder why; she was familiar enough with the dark underbelly of ONI to make an educated guess.

"...They really hurt you, didn't they?" Artemis asked softly. "You must be in so much pain..."

Scarecrow turned his head and chittered quietly, his "voice" distorted and warbling.

"I'm so sorry. But we're going to help, I promise. We're going to get you home, and get you back on your feet, and ONI is never going to get their claws in you ever again..."

[whitecatindisguise]

Give Him A Chance To Mend 2

To tell you the truth, I wanted it to be a fluff chapter. My mind had a different idea, so we start up with angst/whump at the beginning, before the fluff comes in.

And let me just say, I completely adore both Hector and Varian, and I can totally see them bonding over animals.

Anyway, enjoy~

------

Chapter 2: When Can We Do This Again?

It’s been two weeks since Adira and Hector decided to move in with Varian and his dad. Quirin and his son finally stopped freaking out at every sound coming from the house whenever they were together, adjusting to the fact now there were four people living in the house. 

The former Brotherhood members adjusted to the new life quicker than expected. Adira was always willing to help out the villagers in menial tasks, whether it was fixing the broken roof or simple collecting of crops. Hector, obviously, was quickly recognised as an animal person, and was often called for when the villagers needed help. He also served as a kind of scarecrow, scaring away wild animals before they can damage the crops. Although, he was generally seen talking them out, instead of actual scaring. It didn’t matter, really, as long as the village was safe. 

Varian himself was… trying. With Andrew sent away, far from the boy, he could finally relax and focus on healing, both physically and mentally. While his visible injuries healed rather fast, the wounds inflicted to his mind refused to do so, leaving scars that didn’t want to heal. Not once Quirin, Adira and Hector were woken up in the middle of the night, was it either by anxious Ruddiger or cries of the boy. 

Usually it was fairly easy to calm down the terrified alchemist, after he woke up from another dreadful nightmare. Sometimes, however, they spent the better half of the night, consoling the trembling boy. These were the times Quirin could see how broken his son really was, how the man who pretended to be his friend hurt him, if only to satisfy his own desire of justice. 

These were the times the man held Varian in a warm embrace for hours, whispering soothing words, feeling his small frame trembling under the pressure of his past. 

And these were the times both Adira and Hector hated how much time it took to travel to the Dark Kingdom and back to Corona. Hated, how long it took them to find the trail. Hated, how late they were to find their nephew. And hated, how long the boy was subjected to Andrew’s twisted ideas. 

It was the morning after exceptionally vivid nightmare. It took the three of the adults and at least fifteen minutes of constant shaking and calling, before the boy finally woke up, sweat-covered and wide-eyed. His breaths were short, whole frame trembling from the night visions. He didn’t speak of what he saw, and he didn’t need to. None of them fell asleep that night.

Hector was strolling through the village, his bearcats trailing behind. Villagers claimed before they moved in, wild animals almost every night threatened the village, stealing the cattle, destroying crops, scaring people half-to-death. Truth be told, Hector couldn’t fathom how much of it was true. Since he and Adira started living in Old Corona, he’d seen maybe two or three wolves. The only ‘wild’ animal he saw on the daily basis, was the little raccoon his nephew kept as a pet. Clever little thing, he must admit. 

Speaking of which, his trained eyes spotted the blur of grey on one of the apple trees. The raccoon snatched two apples from the branch, before climbing down and setting on Varian’s shoulders. The boy looked up from the book he was reading, seated under the tree, and smiled gratefully. 

“Thanks, bud.” He ruffled the raccoon’s head and the animal bumped against it, craving for affection. 

“You trained him well.” Hector spoke up, approaching the boy. Varian startled for a moment, relaxing when he saw his uncle. 

“I didn’t exactly train him.” He replied, smiling sheepishly and scratched the back of his neck. Hector rose an eyebrow, surprised. 

“You can’t expect me to believe you didn’t teach him to do that.” The man crossed his arms and looked at the raccoon, happily munching on his apple. 

“I didn’t.” Varian repeated and shrugged. “I always shared food with him and took care of him. I guess he just learned to do the same for me.”

As if to confirm the statement, Ruddiger chittered and pawed at the boy’s cheek. Varian laughed at his uncle’s surprised gaze.

“He always does that when he tries to comfort me.” He petted the animal gently. “I guess, we just learned to understand each other without words.”

“Interesting.” Hector hummed and grabbed his chin in deep thought. So his nephew didn’t train the raccoon in any way, and still, the animal acted like a well-trained dog of some sort. 

His train of thoughts was interrupted by the most peculiar sound he’d ever heard. It sounded like… well, he didn’t know what it reminded him of, but he could feel the vibrations behind the sound. His green eyes looked for the source, and he was shocked to see it came from his bearcats.

The two, usually wild and aggressive if not put into place by the man, laid curled up against the boy, one of them unceremoniously showing its belly, which the alchemist was rubbing with a smile on his face. never before had Hector seen them acting like that. 

“What… what are they doing?” He breathed out in shock, mouth agape. Varian turned to meet his uncle’s eyes and cocked his head in question.

“Um… I do believe it’s called purring.” He said, stopping scratching, only to earn a playful pat in the hand, claws hidden. He chuckled and resumed his previous actions. “And this one just loves belly-rubs, don’t you?” 

The bearcat barked in response, a content smile on its face. Hector stood frozen, wondering what has happened to his animals. 

“What did you do?” He questioned. Blue eyes stared at him in confusion.

“Nothing? I think they saw how I pet Ruddiger and got jealous.” Varian answered. 

The raccoon in question jumped down from his shoulders and positioned itself against the other bearcat, both animals sighing in content and continued purring. Hector must have stared for too long, because Varian looked at his in puzzlement again. 

“You want to..?” The alchemist asked and it took the man a moment to realise he was asking if he wanted to pet the animals. The wild and dangerous animals he trained himself. The same animals which laid sprawled on the grass, looking like simple pets. 

“You shouldn’t spoil them too much.” He grunted, stepping closer and sitting down next to the boy. His hand hovered over the other bearcat, finally gently falling on its fur, moving gently. The purring intensified and it startled Hector and caused Varian to chuckle at his expression. 

“You never did that before, did you?” The boy asked as Hector once again slowly moved his hand against the fur.

“Not really. They don’t act that way around me.” He replied truthfully, a small smile creeping up his lips. “It’s nice, though. I never noticed how soft it was. The fur, I mean.”

Varian nodded and picked up his book again, one hand still rubbing the bearcat’s belly. They sat for few more minutes, before Hector got an idea.

“Have you ever ridden a rhino?” 

Turned out Varian never rode a rhino. He knew the basics of riding a horse, so at least he knew how to sit in the saddle. It took few minutes for the boy to adjust to the rhythm of the animal. Ruddiger sat on the alchemist’s shoulders, the bearcats running along. Hector sat behind his nephew, his arms securing him in place, making sure he won’t fall off. 

The man could sense the exact moment Varian finally got a hang of the riding. His shoulders relaxed and his grip on the man’s arms loosened. He took a deep breath, before turning his head slightly to face his uncle. 

“Can it go faster?” He asked and Hector grinned. 

With a quick ‘Hold on tight’ he clicked his tongue an the rhino shot forward. He could hear a gasp of surprise, before Varian laughed. They ran through the forest, trees and rocks swishing by. The boy spread his hands and laughed, enjoying the wind pulling on his hair. 

It was two hours later, when they finally got back, both grinning, adrenaline pumping in their veins. Hector got down first, Varian jumping down soon after. His legs wobbled and he swayed, the man steadying him quickly. 

“That was fun.” The boy smiled brightly at his uncle, pushing away and this time, he managed to stay on his feet. 

“It was.” Hector replied and patted the rhino. It growled and went towards the stables, where it slept. 

“I… thank you. I really needed that.” Varian scratched his neck and looked away. “Can we do this again?” He asked, eyes looked up to him, sparkling, a smile on the boy’s face. 

“Anytime you want, nephew.” Hector smiled back. He was probably getting too soft. But he didn’t mind that at all.

[trenchcas]

episode review masterpost

Here you can find links to all the episodes that I’ve reviewed. Alternatively, you can scroll down through the hashtag ada’s episode guides to find them, but randomly.

SEASON ONE

Pilot Wendigo Dead in the Water Phantom Traveller Bloody Mary Skin Hook Man Bugs Home Asylum Scarecrow Faith Route 666 Nightmare The Benders Shadow Hell House Something Wicked Provenance Dead Man’s Blood Salvation Devil’s Trap

SEASON TWO

In My Time of Dying Everybody Loves a Clown Bloodlust Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things Simon Said No Exit The Usual Suspects Crossroad Blues Croatoan  Hunted Playthings Nightshifter Houses of the Holy Born Under a Bad Sign Tall Tales Roadkill Heart Hollywood Babylon Folsom Prison Blues What Is and What Should Never Be All Hell Breaks Loose 1 All Hell Breaks Loose 2

SEASON THREE

The Magnificent Seven The Kids Are Alright Bad Day at Black Rock Sin City Bedtime Stories Red Sky at Morning Fresh Blood A Very Supernatural Christmas Malleus Maleficarum Dream a Little Dream of Me Mystery Spot Jus in Bello Ghostfacers Long-Distance Call Time is On My Side No Rest for the Wicked

SEASON FOUR

Lazarus Rising Are You There, God? It’s Me, Dean Winchester In the Beginning Metamorphosis Monster Movie Yellow Fever It’s the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester Wishful Thinking I Know What You Did Last Summer Heaven and Hell Family Remains Criss Angel is a Douche Bag After School Special Sex and Violence Death Takes a Holiday On the Head of a Pin It’s A Terrible Life The Monster at the End of This Book Jump the Shark The Rapture When the Levee Breaks Lucifer Rising

SEASON FIVE

Sympathy for the Devil Good God, Y’all! Free to Be You and Me The End Fallen Idols I Believe the Children Are Our Future The Curious Case of Dean Winchester Changing Channels The Real Ghostbusters Abandon All Hope Sam, Interrupted Swap Meat The Song Remains the Same My Bloody Valentine Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid Dark Side of the Moon 99 Problems Point of No Return Hammer of the Gods The Devil You Know Two Minutes to Midnight Swan Song

SEASON SIX

Exile On Main St. Two and a Half Men The Third Man Weekend at Bobby’s Live Free or Twi-Hard You Can’t Handle the Truth Family Matters All Dogs Go To Heaven Clap Your Hands if You Believe Caged Heat Appointment in Samarra Like a Virgin Unforgiven Mannequin 3: The Reckoning The French Mistake ...And Then There Were None My Heart Will Go On Frontierland Mommy Dearest The Man Who Would Be King Let it Bleed The Man Who Knew Too Much

SEASON SEVEN

Meet the New Boss Hello, Cruel World The Girl Next Door Defending Your Life Shut Up, Dr. Phil Slash Fiction The Mentalists Season 7, Time For a Wedding! How To Win Friends and Influence Monsters Death’s Door Adventures in Babysitting Time After Time After Time The Slice Girls Plucky Pennywhistle’s Magical Menagerie Repo Man Out With the Old The Born-Again Identity Party On, Garth Of Grave Importance The Girl With the Dungeons and Dragons Tattoo Reading is Fundamental There Will Be Blood Survival of the Fittest

SEASON EIGHT

We Need To Talk About Kevin What’s Up, Tiger Mommy? Heartache Bitten Blood Brother Southern Comfort A Little Slice of Kevin Hunteri Heroici Citizen Fang Torn and Frayed LARP and the Real Girl As Time Goes By Everybody Hates Hitler Trial and Error Man’s Best Friend With Benefits Remember the Titans Goodbye, Stranger Freaks and Geeks Taxi Driver Pac-Man Fever The Great Escapist Clip Show Sacrifice

SEASON NINE

I Think I’m Gonna Like It Here Devil May Care I’m No Angel Slumber Party Dog Dean Afternoon Heaven Can’t Wait Bad Boys Rock and a Hard Place Holy Terror Road Trip First Born Sharp Teeth The Purge Captives #thinman Blade Runners Mother’s Little Helper Meta Fiction Alex Annie Alexis Ann Bloodlines King of the Damned Stairway to Heaven Do You Believe in Miracles?

SEASON TEN 

Black Reichenbach Soul Survivor Paper Moon Fan Fiction Ask Jeeves Girls, Girls, Girls Hibbing 911 The Things We Left Behind The Hunter Games There’s No Place Like Home About a Boy Halt and Catch Fire The Executioner’s Song The Things They Carried Paint it Black Inside Man Book of the Damned The Werther Project Angel Heart Dark Dynasty The Prisoner Brother’s Keeper

SEASON ELEVEN

Out of the Darkness, Into the Fire Form and Void The Bad Seed Baby Thin Lizzy Our Little World Plush Just My Imagination O Brother, Where Art Thou? The Devil in the Details Into the Mystic Don’t You Forget About Me Love Hurts The Vessel Beyond the Mat Safe House Red Meat Hell’s Angel The Chitters Don’t Call Me Shurley All in the Family We Happy Few Alpha and Omega

SEASON TWELVE

Keep Calm and Carry On Mamma Mia The Foundry American Nightmare The One You’ve Been Waiting For Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox Rock Never Dies LOTUS First Blood Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets Regarding Dean Stuck in the Middle (With You) Family Feud The Raid Somewhere Between Heaven and Hell Ladies Drink Free The British Invasion The Memory Remains The Future Twigs and Twines and Tasha Banes There’s Something About Mary Who We Are All Along the Watchtower

SEASON THIRTEEN

Lost and Found The Rising Son Patience The Big Empty Advanced Thanatology Tombstone War of the Worlds The Scorpion and the Fang The Bad Place Wayward Sisters Breakdown Various and Sundry Villains Devil’s Bargain Good Intentions A Most Holy Man Scoobynatural The Thing Bring ‘Em Back Alive Funeralia Unfinished Business Beat the Devil Exodus Let the Good Times Roll

SEASON FOURTEEN

Stranger in a Strange Land Gods and Monsters The Scar Mint Condition Nightmare Logic Optimism Unhuman Nature Byzantium The Spear Nihilism Damaged Goods Prophet and Loss Lebanon Ouroboros Peace of Mind Don’t Go In the Woods Game Night Absence Jack in the Box Moriah

SEASON FIFTEEN

Back and to the Future Raising Hell The Rupture Atomic Monsters Proverbs 17:3 Golden Time Last Call Our Father, Who Aren’t In Heaven The Trap The Heroes Journey The Gamblers Galaxy Brain Destiny’s Child Last Holiday Gimme Shelter Drag Me Away (From You) Unity Despair Inherit the Earth Carry On

[deathiscoldbatman]

Actually send shitty bait asks to my main too, I've had a hell of a day and it would be funny. ;)

[So apparently there's gangs of people going around harassing RP blogs now? Damn maybe I'm just lonely but please can I have some suicide baiting anons or something? It's better than the weird invasive questions I've had to delete about playing an intersex character (who, mind you, isn't aware he's intersex). And when I say I've had worse shit thrown at me, I've had worse shit thrown at me.]