#tw rape reference

[deadsetobsessions]

Once more the hallucinations hit, and once more I am here writing it out.

My brain is fucking terrifying and I want out, so bad. This came to me in the form of a nightmare.

Also, please don’t take the timeline into consideration, because I have no idea what’s going on. Again, nightmares and dreams tend to not have the best coherency when it comes to plot and timelines. The reincarnation doesn’t have a name, I was too busy feeling terrified. Shit in parentheses was how I experienced the nightmare. Everything else is just me adding sprinkle sprinkle.

——

Ra’s al Ghul.

Talia al Ghul.

Two names that she had been aware of, in the peripherals of her hyper fixation. Two characters meant to enhance the story of the Dark Knight. Side characters, on a good day. Perhaps, a main antagonist on a better day.

On a bad day?

Main characters. Real, living people. Real, living, breathing assassins.

Unfortunately, they’re her new family. One she remembered coming into, bathed in a pool of blood and screams.

She was not a baby.

She is now, a baby. The first of Talia al Ghul’s children. The eldest, once Damian al Ghul was born.

Swaddled in emerald green and gold silks, she was presented to a man with silver streaked hair and a receding hairline. He too, was robed in green and golds.

“A daughter, Talia?” He rumbled, the smooth Arabic flowing out of his mouth failing to hide the acrid disappointment. The child, past the haze of confusion of suddenly being deported from her own adult body into one of a helpless child, felt a stirring of irritation. It’s good she learned the language, because now she knew exactly how Ra’s felt about her. The child grumbled a displeased sound. Not that she would have ignored the fact that her grandfather was Ra’s al Ghul. (He smelled like moth eaten fabric and blood- but I think that was because my cat accidentally scratched me.)

“My apologies, father.”

“Do not tell the young detective of this. Had it been a son, perhaps things would have been different. No, a daughter would only hinder him.”

Talia bowed, hands tightening on her daughter. “May I raise her, father?”

“A resource is still a resource. Go ahead, Talia.”

“Yes, father.” Talia took the dismissal and bowed before leaving.

On her way back to the room with the reincarnation’s crib, Talia al Ghul stroked her daughter’s head.

“I wish you were born a boy, my daughter. I am sorry my beloved will never know of you.”

The reincarnation looked at her new mother. She’s young, the woman-child realized. A teenager.

“You’ll have to be useful, my daughter. Your grandfather is not so kind as to keep the useless. I… do not wish for your death,” her mother muttered.

Great. She got new life and it’s already in danger.

——

She learned to swing a knife. Swords. She learned and devoured the teachings. She learned to be useful.

But then they asked her to take the life of a man who did her no wrong.

Her baby blues clashed with her grandfather’s Lazarus green.

She was still young. A child.

“No.”

“No?”

“He did no wrong.”

“He failed, granddaughter.” Ra’s smiled down at her, patronizing. Cruel. “Perhaps you possess your father’s heart, and you are foolishly sentimental, as women and children tend to be. But in the end, you are an al Ghul and you will obey. Plunge in your blade and I will reward you.”

The reincarnation looked at the man kneeling in front of her, resignation and a hint of pity in what little she could see of his face.

She’s already died before. What did she have to be afraid of?

“No.”

They tried to beat the weakness out of her. It didn’t work.

——

The reincarnation stared at the mirror, left alone in an opulent cage of gold and emeralds and precious stones that meant little to her now.

Her hands traced her back, small fingers finding purchase in soft skin. Her mouth opened fruitlessly, noise refusing to escape. She still felt the burning magic, the brand her own blood had carved into her skin and soul because she refused to kill. The chains her grandfather had shackled around her with magic and cruel amusement.

She had killed him, in the end. Obey, or be punished. Her body had moved without her permission, the reincarnation a prisoner in a body that refused to do as she commanded. The knife swung, a life taken, her hands dipped in red.

She learned a valuable lesson that day.

There were things worse than death.

“This is an order, granddaughter.”

The Magic had flared a searing heat at her neck, forcing her to kneel on broken legs. Ra’s loomed above, authority in his voice. She was bound to obey, regardless.

“You will never speak another word of affection, you will never speak another word to anyone unless I allow it. Perhaps this will teach you of your folly, and your place in this world.”

The loss of her freedom and the fear that came with it was a bitter and devastating lesson.

——

Ra’s al Ghul was so much worse than what little she knew of him.

She was right to be afraid for herself.

Her mother had worried, when she’d withdrawn and refused to speak to her. Even if she could, the reincarnation would not have wanted to. The reincarnation had felt furious, back then, when she thought of Talia. Her mother who refused to protect her. Her mother, who claimed she loved her but refused to see the chains Ra’s wrapped around her neck. She who plied the reincarnation with a supportive hand but forced her into the fighting pits.

But, as the reincarnation stumbled out on bruised and used legs from Ra’s al Ghul’s meeting chambers where he had allowed his business partners to partake in her, she realized that Ra’s was a monster in a human’s body and her mother was a victim of his making.

The lesson Ra’s taught her that day was that if she was not useful, if she did not kill, he would take what was left of her and make use of her.

Hate flared in her heart, and the beginning of Ra’s downfall began the day he let her go from the chambers alive. Injured, but alive. Injured and violated, but alive and furious.

——

She carved her hate and rage and helplessness and fear in the bodies of the people he bid her to kill. Her silenced screams were expressed in the way she splattered blood, the way she covered herself in it. A killing machine first, a stress reliever second, and a child… wasn’t on the list of things she was allowed to be.

His enemies were felled, one after another. He gave her his approval, something she detested.

But still, she continued, bodies racking upwards, tens turning to hundreds, hundreds edging into thousands.

The red in her ledger became ichor and guilt. Her language became violence and obedience.

“You have become a sharp tool, granddaughter.”

She was a genius, after all. And now, she could not disobey. A blade that Ra’s believed will never point towards him. She kneeled. She obeyed.

“Thank you, grandfather.” Her words were only allowed to come out- without searing, terrible pain- when she was thanking him. She tried not to do it as often as he wanted. He thought he broke her when he read the obedience she carved into her body language.

But she never bowed. Never. Not to him. Never.

——

“My weapon could learn much from your granddaughter,” David Cain sat across from Ra’s, wine in their stupid goblets. How she detested the green and blacks he’s seen fit to dress her with. She’s dressed provocatively, not of her own choice. She doesn’t have much of those- doesn’t have much in ways of choices- these days.

She was twelve, and Ra’s al Ghul deserved to die.

“Her combat is a higher form of what my daughter has achieved. How did you do it?”

When Ra’s began to reply, she slipped away.

She found the girl. She found… the cage- the black box- the child was placed in. The child flinched from her when she opened the metal box, fear only easing as the reincarnation kept her body language neutral and kind. (It was pitch black, and about the size of like, a closet. No light. Only from whatever door the box had.) (Cass’ hands hurt from banging on the walls to be let out)

David Cain’s daughter, her mind whispered, the memories of another life once more making itself known.

“Cassandra.” She whispered, regretting it immediately when pain wracked her body. She fell to her knees as the punishment for disobeying an order slammed into her.

The girl looked at her in concern, but did not move closer. The reincarnation stared at this girl and saw a reflection of herself.

David Cain would be here for a month. She will free Cassandra in those days.

——

The weapon stared at the girl in front of her, kneeling in pain.

She did not understand.

-

The girl came back. Water. Food. Kind.

The weapon felt warm. The girl was quiet. No sounds. Good. The weapon knew the girl understood. The weapon thinks that the girl is a weapon too.

-

The girl comes back, again. This time, she makes a sound. It hurt her, but she did it again. The weapon understands when the girl points at herself and repeats the sound. The sound means the girl. The girl expects something from the weapon.

The weapon makes the sound, flinching to see if the owner will come to punish it. The girl purposefully sits, relaxed but vigilant… and protective. Of the weapon?

The weapon relaxed. It repeated the sound, pointing at the girl.

The girl smiles, in pain. But approval. The weapon feels- the weapon is warm, like under the blanket. Approval.

The girl teaches her to make sounds but the weapon communicates without it. It does not like the sounds, does not need them, but the girl seems to think it’s important.

The weapon likes the girl, so the weapon learns. They still understand through no sounds, through reading each other.

-

The girl comes back, silently. Secretly. The weapon does not notify the owner. The weapon feels- does not want to.

The girl- the girl with the sound- she says a different sound. Her body tells the weapon that it’s important, this sound.

And when the girl points at herself and says her own sound, then points at the weapon and says that new sound again, the weapon begins to understand.

The girl had given the weapon her own sound.

“Cass—n- ra.”

“Cass,” the girl said, and Cassandra understood.

“Cass.” Cassandra pointed to herself.

-

The owner wanted- wanted Cassandra to end a life. Cassandra watched the owner kill and gesture to the dead thing.

Cassandra did not want to.

When Cassandra is placed back into the pitch black box, she waited for the girl.

The girl came.

“Don’t want.” Cassandra clung to her, reading the welcome and the sadness in the girl’s body. Cassandra tucked her face into the girl’s shoulder. She is cold. The girl is warm.

The girl hugged her back. The girl understood. Sadness hardened into lines of determination. Cassandra felt… light. Felt hope.

-

Cassandra slipped away from the place, water in her pack for the dessert and money to run from the country. The girl stayed behind, seeing her off. The girl tells her to never come back.

Cassandra did not want to leave the girl behind, but the girl could not go.

“Be free, Cass.” The girl had whispered through the pain. “For the both of us.”

——

Her grandfather knew. He allowed David Cain to break her, not kill because she was of use to him still, as a lesson. She found that she hated his lessons. But, she hated his attention more.

And still, she could not regret. How could she, when Cass trusted her with what fragile hope she had?

So, she lets him beat her, and provokes him with smirks and fearless eyes because the longer he’s focused on her, the more time Cass has to run.

Then, he gets too angry, and insults Ra’s, whose eyes grew cold. Her grandfather gestured and while she usually hated the command that followed that gesture, she could not feel that hatred now.

She got back up, legs broken and arms twisted once more, and attacked David Cain.

Ra’s would not follow Cass. Not when she was not his business to deal with, and not when David Carin’s fury amused him so.

David Cain would not follow Cass. Not while she still drew breath. The reincarnation stood, and threw herself at one of the best assassins of the century.

She tore his throat out with nothing but her teeth. She felt, for once, not like a monster. Not even when Ra’s nodded in approval and ordered for David Cain’s broken body to be cleaned up.

——

She’s been granted a mission in New Jersey, once her months of discipline- of torture- ended. She does not get ordered to find Cassandra. She’s fourteen now, and as silent as ever. Her mother had adjusted to her silence by then- long ago, actually, taking it as a quirk her daughter had developed. She hadn’t been a terribly vocal child, after all. Talia praised her for being useful even as a woman- the self degradation something the reincarnation had no doubt Ra’s had insidiously trained into Talia- and for being loyal to Ra’s.

Sometimes, she hates Talia for being- for-

Never mind. She couldn’t afford to hate anyone else.

She killed her targets early, determination and wistfulness urging her movements into sharp . Then, she made her way to Gotham and slipped into the city of darkness- where her father was.

She watched as he hid in the shadows almost as easily as she did. She watched as he flew and glided with the younger Robin. (He was younger than her by a year. She checked.) He was free. They were free.

She wished…

As she turned away, she saw a child tumbling from the edge of a roof. It was an instinct she’d thought Ra’s had managed to bury after the months he’d spent making sure she killed only children.

She hated him.

She caught him, swooping in and tucking him against her side as she plucked him from the air and plopped him back onto the crumbling roof of Gotham’s slums.

“Oh, thank you! So much- are you a vigilante?” The boy asked, looking at her masked face. It’s a good thing she wasn’t exactly dressed like a regular League operative.

She shook her head. Her eyes fell onto his camera, faint memories rising once more. She had an inkling-

“I’m- uh- Tim!” The boy introduced himself nervously, edging away from her silence. “Thank you for saving me…?”

She nodded. She pointed to the camera, tilting her head.

“Oh- you… want to see it?” He clutched his camera closer. Oh, he did have some sense of self preservation. She wondered why a seven year old was allowed to roam these streets… but she did worse at seven.

She held her hand up and back up. The boy hesitated, and then showed her the camera. “Uh- I took pictures of Robin and Batman!”

They sat on that roof for hours, and she let Tim Drake tell her stories about her father and his son. Ward. Son.

She could tell that Tim didn’t have anyone to listen to him.

She didn’t have long until she had to go back or risk severe punishment, but… she could make time for Tim, to listen to him.

She wondered if Cass managed to escape completely. She wondered if her sister all but in name and blood learned how to smile.

——

Tim had never had a friend before!

She listened to him! And gave him hugs the one time he was brave enough to ask! And she seemed to like Batman and Robin as much as he did! No one who didn’t like them would listen to his endless rambling otherwise, right? (Tim was super skinny, like ribs poking out skinny. He looked like a sickly Victorian child and he was kind of cold)

“And then, Robin went like this,” he pantomimed the awesome punch Dick Grayson did on a Joker goon. “And the guys got knocked out just like that!”

His new friend nodded, looking interested.

“Sorry, am I talking too much?” Tim asked anxiously. He didn’t want to make his friend hate him!

She shook her head, and gestured for him to continue.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

His new friend was so cool! She even taught him how to throw a punch and to fight!

——

When she had to leave, she prepared Tim for it.

“Do you have to go?”

She nodded and placed a hand on his head, ruffling his hair. Her other hand held a duffle bag with an assortment of weapons she carefully kept from him. (One of the blades still had guts on it, which, ew.)

“Try not to fall off anymore roofs, little photographer.” She said, smiling at his shocked look before leaping away.

“Wait, you can talk?!” He shouted at her back. She smiled a little wider.

——

“A son, this time.” Ra’s al Ghul’s voice echoed in his disgustingly flashy throne room. It rings of approval.

The reincarnation stood behind her mother, eyes cast downwards.

“Well done, Talia. I finally have a worthy heir.”

Damian al Ghul cooed.

The reincarnation was scared. But… she could not allow her younger brother to be trapped like she was. She’s fifteen now, a decade of slavery having worn her down and nearly broken her. But with her brother… no, she could not allow it.

She met her mother’s eyes and knew then that they agreed. Protect Damian, at all costs.

She ignored the sting of envy. So what her mother could not find it in herself to protect her daughter? So long as she protected Damian, it didn’t matter.

Maybe she didn’t matter. Maybe she wasn’t worth anything. Maybe- maybe- maybe.

She also ignored the seed of disgust she had for mother’s actions in conceiving Damian. She couldn’t do anything about it. Talia was also a victim.

A louder voice in her asked if she could really excuse that, when Talia had a choice and she chose to hurt and violate Bruce Wayne like that. She wondered if she could truly ever forgive Talia. She wondered if Bruce Wayne got therapy.

——

She stared at the tome in front of her, eyes blank. (Actually, she had no eyes. Like? Empty sockets, but then later she had eyes???)

The brand- the shackles- the chains could only be broken if Ra’s died. She wasn’t opposed to that. But if he died, so did she. She couldn’t even kill herself to get out, because the chains would be there even if she died. If she was revived- a high chance, thanks to the fucking pits- then the chains would still be there.

Perhaps… she could use the pits?

Her mind turned and turned.

——

“This is your ukht.” Her mother pointed at her. Damian stared up at her, and she melted. Her brother was too damn cute.

“Ukhti?”

She nodded as her mother smiled in joy. “Yes, habibi.”

She was better at hiding the pain, now. She was better at enduring it, too, that fucking burning feeling. She spoke more, but only to Damian.

It would not do for her brother to grow up not knowing how to receive verbal expressions of affection. Not like she did, in this life.

Still, it hurt to speak. But then, she had an idea, based on Cassandra.

She could not speak, but speaking wasn’t the only way of communication. She’ll teach Damian sign language- standard, as commanded- but also her own version. Yes, she could do it. It wouldn’t be hard.

She was a genius, after all, and creating languages wasn’t as hard as people seem to think.

——

Damian copied her, small fingers patting his hand four times.

She did it back to him. “I love you.” She tells him, with sounds and with motions.

He does it back, excitedly, because he had a secret with ukhti!

——

Sometimes, she dared not to touch Damian. She wants to ruffle his hair and give him hugs but the ichor on her hands reminds her to not get to greedy. She did not deserve it.

Not when her hands were stained with the lives of so many people.

——

Another mission.

She was twenty now, and not much closer to escaping her bonds. Though, once she hit her majority, Ra’s lost interest in her in that way. A blessing, even if she had to seduce his “business partners” into giving him better deals more often now.

She stops by Bludhaven. The Robin she watched so many years ago- six, by her count- had grown new wings and moved. She wanted to see if he could fly still.

He could. He flew as free- no, freer than his days as Robin.

She dipped away to complete her mission (nuclear weapon trading, really?) and swings back to see a spider trying to break the former Robin’s wings.

“No.” Nightwing whispered, staring upwards at the cloudy sky blankly. “Please, stop.”

She didn’t need to hear any more. She saw red, and dove feet first straight onto the spider’s head, knocking her out.

She picked up a near-catatonic Nightwing, and helped him to his apartment. She left Tarantula in the rain and felt zero guilt about it.

He changed mechanically, some kind of instinct keeping him from removing his domino, but it was a bit pointless considering she escorted him to his personal apartment.

She watched as Nightwing slipped into an exhausted sleep before leaving. She had a spider to squish, and traces to hide.

——

Dick wakes up, drained and exhausted. He… someone saved him.

He sees a scrawled note, handwriting impeccable enough to be a font, written with his pen. He picked it up from his table, and his eyes tiredly read the message.

“Don’t worry about Tarantula. Or your identity.”- A friend.

He remembered- the mask- the mask of the stranger that saved him vividly. He’d remember. And he’d thank them if they ever came back.

——

She was in charge of training assassins, these days. A year and a half later after Bludhaven, she was back in Nanda Parbat, and she’s devoured every magical tome she could get her hands on. They all say the same things.

Her assassins were trained well, and Ra’s praises her with more responsibilities as he followed the pit in his obsessions. Her mother began to splinter the group, not knowing that as Ra’s began his descent into madness, people looked towards her instead of Talia for leadership. They did not know that her unwavering presence by Ra’s side wasn’t voluntary but it is their true that she became his right hand out of pure skill. And flawless obedience, of course.

Then, someone new joins.

Someone with pit rage and empty eyes that goes rigid when she approaches.

Then again, most of the operatives freeze up when she walks towards them.

Her memories roar. A child.

He bowed, and her eyes followed the streak of white hair at the forefront of his skull.

She gestured at him to follow, and ignored the pitiful eyes the rest of the assassins gave to the kid- they act like her training was hard when she went easy on them (it was)- and led the kid towards the training rooms.

She knew who he was, even if her grandfather and mother didn’t think she knew.

Her… Bruce Wayne would probably appreciate his son being returned relatively sane.

But first, she had to beat the Pit out of him. Then, she could assign body guarding duties to him, in an attempt to protect him.

——

“Grandfather, I will take Damian’s punishment.”

“A whipping girl, granddaughter?” But he nodded anyways. He made Damian watch.

She kneeled and allowed the punishment. She couldn’t always protect him from Ra’s, but this she could do anytime. It’s not like she was unfamiliar with the torture. (The whip had barbs. Rusty. And they sprinkled salt.)

——

“I liked poetry….” Jason Todd tells her after a training session. “I think.”

“Sure. I’ll call you Grave, then.” Pain. But she was used to it.

He tilted his head, eyes going blank once more. She sighed. There went his memories again. (His eyes were blank and glazed. Like looking at someone you love and knowing they’re looking through you.)

——

“I would not trust her,” she says to the air, next to a Red Hood emerging from Talia al Ghul’s chambers. She could see it, the beginnings of Gotham’s new crime lord. But still, “Talia al Ghul is known for her lies.”

She pushed away from the wall. It was up to Grave if he listened. It was out of her hands now.

——

She’s twenty-five, and she’s helping Damian pack for his first meeting with Bruce Wayne.

“You must not tell him about me.” Because he’d come rushing here, and she had worked too hard to save Damian for her fool of a father to come and ruin all of that effort.

“I promise.” Her little brother said solemnly. Ukhti said it out loud, which meant it was important and she expected him to keep that promise.

The only other time he’d heard her speak was to tell him she loved him.

The reincarnation smiled and told him through their special sign language, to treat the current Robin with respect and to try his best to get the current Robin to pass down his title.

‘Robin is earned. They have different rules, over there. Try your best to learn those rules.’

Her brother was sheltered. She loved him, but he was spoilt and sheltered. Of course she was worried. Talia barely mothered him.

“I know. You do not have to remind me so often, ukhti.”

She smiled, and patted his head.

“Be safe,” she whispered. “I will miss you.”

Damian darted in for a hug. “Of course. Goodbye, sister. See you soon.”

She hoped not. It was hard enough to convince Ra’s that Damian would learn more under Bruce Wayne.

(She was locked in a small closet- like Cass- for about a week, because she brought up the idea first.)

——

She found it.

The answer to pit rage laid in an old, all but crumbling tome from Atlantis- answers “from a ghost.”

——

Bruce Wayne died. Months after Damian came to live with him. That- irritating- she sighed and worked with her mother to turn Ra’s al Ghul’s attention away from Gotham, lest he called Damian back in Bruce Wayne’s absence.

The little photographer caught grandfather’s attention. She stood vigil as he played chess with Ra’s. His interest in Damian wavered. Anticipation blurred in her veins.

She saved his friends. Her assassins. She let them go, telling them to wait for the little photographer’s plan. (Y’all miss girl had fucking bloody handprints on her pants like someone tried to grab it.)

The first few people who had an inking she might not be loyal to Ra’s… and it was them.

When her other assassins attacked Red Robin, she cut them down before they could touch him, helping him with a furious League of Spiders or whatever operative. She hated spiders.

“What…?”

“You’re a lot of trouble, little photographer.” She sighed. His jaw dropped.

“It’s you!”

“Go,” she cut him off. “Blow this place up. I left a surprise for you outside.”

——

“Owens?! Z?!” Tim trembled, exhaustion and shock and wonder hitting him at once.

“Heya, boss!” Z chirped. Owens helped Tim up while Z helped Tam. Pry walked around them, looking out for further threats. “The nightmare trainer let us go. She knew you, I think.”

Tim smiles, all shark teeth and zero hero. (In the background, the song zero to hero from Hercules 2, played in reverse.) “Tell me more.”

——

Damian grunted, bracing himself for the magical creature’s attack.

“Robin!” His father barked out, panicked. Damian hoped he’d survive-

Shhhlk!

He looked up and there stood his ukht. She bounded forwards, using the odd fauna of the magical plane to bolster her movements as she sliced the creatures apart with her swords, magic humming brightly as she cut through them… and the magicians attacking them.

“What- what are you doing here?” He asked. She greeted him, three fingers curled over her shoulder.

‘My question is,’ she signed. ‘Why were you here without a magical weapon.’

Damian sighed as father stepped in between them.

“Who are you.”

“Batman. Cease your excessive worry. I trust her with my life,” Damian snapped. He stepped around a shocked Batman, looked him in the eyes, and unsheathed his katana. He handed it over to his ukht, who took it with amusement.

‘See?’ His eyes seemed to say. Father tensed when his sister unsheathed her own blade and handed it to him.

‘Are you here for a specific reason?’ His sister signed to him.

“Uh, you gonna introduce us, little man?”

Damian sent the Flash a derisive look and ignored him.

“We’re looking for a magician. He set a squadron of demons loose into D.C. last night. He has a tower.” Damian added.

“Robin,” Father growled. “Who is this.” Damian shot him a look and turned back to his sister.

The reincarnation tilted her head. ‘Tower… it’ll have to be that way.’

“Could you take us there?” Damian asked. Truthfully, he could find the way himself. But he wanted more time around his ukht. She nodded and Damian straightened.

“I feel like we should be concerned that Robin’s friend just murdered a bunch of people.”

His sister glanced back and ignored them.

“Silence, incompetents. Speak another word against her, and Batman’s no killing rule will be applied creatively.” He hissed. (The fucking surroundings hissed with him y’all what the fuck)

He turned when his sister ruffled his hair (Superman muttered a super shocked “what the fuck.”) and Damian allowed it. He had missed his sister.

——

[hipsternumbertwo]

Favorite Angela Moments 17/∞: Sexy Nicole

[margridarnauds]

[Tw: Rape, suicide]

I was browsing through Magadon's story for Raphael Reasons and...

Is it time to kill Mephistopheles? I really think it's time to kill Mephistopheles.

(Note, since Magadon mentions his mother surviving: The lore about cambions' mothers dying during birth comes from The Planescape Monstrous Compendium Appendix, which is 2e, and Expeditions to the Demonweb Pits, which is 3e [both editions are also interesting for consistently putting Cambions in with Demons]. The 5e Monster Manual seems to imply that Cambions' mothers might live: "Cambions grow into ruthless adults whose wickedness and perversion horrifies even the most devoted mortal parent. Even as a youth, a cambion identifies its rightful place as an overlord of mortals. It might orchestrate uprisings in towns and cities, gathering gangs of humanoids and lesser devils to serve it." 4e only says that cambions can be raised in one realm or the other without getting into specifics.) (All this to say that I support any means of torturing Raphael possible and highly encourage finding new and exciting ways of doing it, BUT it isn't necessarily inherently keeping with 5e that the cambion's mother HAS to die.)

[suncaptor]

Like if you do want to engage in "Dean was raped in Hell" headcanon space you also do need to handle what I genuinely think would change his relationship with sex & sense of self even more which is that he would have also raped people in Hell because it's very safe to assume anything that was done to him he would do to others. Which, while I don't think it's unrealistic to think the torture he experienced and inflicted was intimate or sexually done in a way that is actually indistinguishable, it is not something I think comes off at all from the way he perceives and engaged with sex post Hell.

[henrysglock]

Well This is Awkward: Splice on the ST4 Movie Board

I have so many questions. Like surface level?

Makes sense. Sounds about right for HNL/Brenner/Henward/etc.

But when you read the full plot? (tw for rape and born sexy yesterday-ism)

What the actual fuck lmao,, jesus Christ. Why is this movie on the ST4 board :')

All I can think of, ignoring the whole massive incestuous rape plot about the lab experiment who was not dead/was in a coma:

And something about Brenner being part demogorgon...

[cometomecosette]

I've been watching YouTube videos of different actresses' performances as Fantine to write a comparison, and I've noticed some things about the staging:

(1) In the pro-shot video of the 1st National Tour from 1991 (what an amazing find!), Bamatabois isn't as violent as I'm used to seeing. He pushes Fantine to the ground at the beginning of "It's the same with a tart as it is with a grocer..." then grabs her and rubs against her at the end of the verse, but does nothing in-between, and doesn't touch her again after she scratches his face. It's completely different from the performances I'm used to seeing, where he spends the whole scene, both before and after the scratch, brutally throwing and dragging her around, grabbing her by her hair, etc. In the 1987 London video (another amazing find, though it's of lower quality), he throws her around a tiny bit more, but again, he doesn't touch her anymore after she fights back. Was the increased violence in that scene a part of the various blocking changes for the 1997 Broadway 10th Anniversary?

I'm feeling tempted to prefer the less violent staging. After all, in the novel Bamatabois just mocks Fantine and stuffs a snowball down her dress, and the more violent blocking can feel like gratuitous female torture porn. Still, since the musical doesn't show the grinding details of poverty that Fantine endures (which is Hugo's main emphasis, not her being physically or sexually abused – I'll always love the musical, but I won't pretend it's a perfect adaptation of the book), maybe more violence is needed to drive home just how much she suffers. I'm of two minds about this.

(2) Yet earlier, in "At the End of the Day," the Foreman tends to be more physically brutal in those pre-1997 videos than I'm used to. During the silent pantomime where he comes on to Fantine at the beginning of the factory scene, he grabs her in a very aggressive, scary way, almost as if he wants to rape her then and there against the cash-box table. In the performances I'm used to seeing, he seems more teasing and sweet-talking in that pantomime. Was that another 10th Anniversary change?

@quarryquest

[feminaferitas]

an excerpt from the wilderness journals of shauna shipman, circa 199x???

I've been thinking a lot about the old Greek stories we have are all famous for being tragedies. Way before the Catholic church began canonizing saints, whose baseline qualification was being traumatized. No one remembers a Greek myth with a happy ending.

I know they say the myths weren't real, just ways to teach people about the world and explain why certain trees were like that, or why stars were in the sky. But I think the tragedy is just a foundational part of living. I mean, those are the beautiful stories that we preserve for generations, right? It has to mean something, all that suffering.

Like Icarus, the classic example. Flying high on wax wings, too close to the sun. All he wanted was a way out of that maze... maybe to find someone who could help. Sometimes the myths say his dad didn't see his son fall -- all that was left was feathers in the water. That was a boy with hopes and dreams, learning to fly from the ones that came before. Did he have a teddy bear too?

Cassandra was blessed with sight and cursed so that no one would ever believe her. But I think the curse was the sight, having visions of awful, horrible things. No wonder no one listened. I don't know I would have believed her either. I don't think you can predict those things. Besides, Cassandra was killed all the same. A lot of people died and she knew about it, but they were still going to die whether her words were the truth or not. She did nothing to help anyone, even if it wasn't entirely her fault. Fuck Cassandra.

Then there was Prometheus, who stole fire for humanity and was punished by being chained to a rock. His liver was torn out by an eagle every day. It kept growing back. Here he was thinking he did such a benevolent thing for humanity, like he was some big hero. If you ask me, the punishment was wasteful. Or the eagle had too much restraint. Just the liver? There was so much more to him. But I get it, I would kill for an unending source of food out here... but I wouldn't steal fire to make it happen.

The classical romances sucked too. Do you know how many of them were just rapes? All because men like Apollo and Zeus couldn't say no. Just ask Daphne. The origin of trees being women who scorned the gods. Blonde Apollo, relentless, lyrical. Did he sing a song, maybe showtunes, chasing down the object of his affection? Daphne said no. She said no and she ran and she pleaded for help but the gods changed her to spurn Apollo. She became a tree, I don't know which kind. Can you imagine your only sense of safety, your only defense from a stalker being hiding in a tree? Maybe Daphne didn't even like men.

I like the myth about Artemis and Acteon, though. I don't think it's so tragic. He caught her bathing naked and she turned him into a stag to punish him. He was chased through the woods by his hunting hounds. Howling. Ferocious. They couldn't recognize their master -- he was part of the wilds, a beast of burden. Prey. I especially like the myths where he challenged her, and said he was a better hunter. He wasn't. Sometimes women are the ones in control.

Rhea...

She was wife of Kronos. Kronos, the sick fuck who ate his children. He ate them all, afraid they would grow up and overthrow him. Hestia. Demeter. Hera. Hades. Poseidon. He ate them all. He fucking ate them. Rhea tried to hide her last baby boy, Zeus, and she ran.

She put him in a cave and tried to mask the sound of his cries so her husband couldn't find the baby. And that baby grew up and saved them all. And yeah he's a dick in some of the stories but the myths weren't even real, right?

Who fucking eats babies?

Who would do that? Who would eat a fucking baby

Why? Rhea couldn't even let her baby cry because he'd be discovered and can you imagine her in pain, in that cave

all because a jealous titan

wanted to

eat

her

baby

[the rest of the page is unreadable, stained with water and scribbled in harshly with incoherent lettering]

[barid-bel-medar]

Trope ask: Mineta bashing.

I've actually gotten fed up with the trope. Honestly just leave him at canon levels of Minetaness and punt him if you must. Don't make him a fucking rapist. Don't write it as all of 1-A loathing him (honestly most of them seem meh on him at the end of the day). It's also good to remember he's actually a common shonen trope character.

[maddies-chronicles]

I love your mcs! Next question: do you have anything written for their stories you want to share like a sneak peak,,, if not then wanna spoil a big emotional moment they have? I like spoilers

(i got a little excited answering this ask i'm so sorry in advance)

also sorry in advance for the many, many tws and cws i did NOT realise how dark my writing was???

YES what if i just start posting random scenes for you guys. what if i did that. okay i would love to post the entire first chapter but it turns out i didn't finish that sooooo have spoily spoiler instead... unfortunately it does not hit as hard without the context of the rest of the story, so i'll give a bit of contextualization first

morgan (they/them) has spent almost their entire life with only like... two friends, and one of then had been their sister, jill (she/her). jill is in the same year, so morgan, jill, and their mutual best friend mateo (he/him) have pretty much grown up together. during grades 1-5 (ages 5ish to 11ish for all my non-north american friends) morgan makes a friend named joel (he/him). they're close for a bit, but then in fifth grade some stuff changes and eventually they're not even on speaking terms anymore. coincidentally, jayden moved to the school and befriended joel around the same time. consequently, morgan blames him for "stealing" joel.

around 9th grade morgan realises that mateo is lowkey abusing/grooming and isolating them from all of their peers, so they cut ties with him. their sister does not, which they are understandably resentful over.

(also side tangents but i'm gonna put tws in the foreword of my books... i think everyone should do that tbh. it would make consuming content a lot more accesible imo. this has nothing to do with the ask i just thought of that while i was tagging)

anyway, up until this scene, morgan was under the impression that jayden had gang-raped someone with his entire friend group. this turns out to be something mateo made up about jayden to get morgan to stay away from him.

don't lie about rape kids. i absolutely should not have to be the one to tell you that. but i will. because apparently some people just fuck around and do it anyway (not to get personally upset online but like i said... an unfortunate amount of these events were real things that happened to or around me as a child.)

okay here's the actual scene 💀:

“I don’t understand what I did to you!” I shouted. I could feel tears pricking at my eyes and the only thought it my head was God, this is so fucking embarrassing. “And- and I keep trying to make it better, but you won’t let me! And that would be fine if I at least knew what I was being fucking shunned for-”

“How could you possibly not know?” they demanded angrily. “Everyone knew! Mateo told me-!”

And then they stopped. Their eyes glazed over. Tears gathered at the corners of their eyes, and they started laughing.

Laughing.

“Ha. Haha. Hahaha.”

It started slow at first, but then they just kept laughing until they were in full-out hysterics, laughing and crying. Their knees buckled, and suddenly they were sitting on the ground, right in the goddamn snowbank. I hated them for a minute, because I was supposed to be angry, but all I could feel in that moment was concern.

“What?” I demanded, legitimately scared. “What did Mateo tell you I did?”

They had both hands over their mouth, either to keep from sobbing or to stop laughing. I think they were scaring themself as much as they were scaring me. Then, they said something I’ll never forget.

“It doesn’t matter. Not a word he ever said was true.”

[henrysglock]

Don't Breathe was on the ST4 movie board...and another similarity just hit me:

Brenner's mysterious new scar. It's on the same fucking side as the antagonist of Don't Breathe.

Y'know...this guy?

Martin "tried to recreate [Henward]/began a program/soon, others were born" Brenner. Has a weird, brand-new scar. That looks just like this guy's scar. Insane to me.

[jsabspinkhorsepro123]

The Angel Of Death ("Thrasher" 's Story)

AN- Please know that this, though being a backstory, will be a bit of a spoiler for both the original Long Live Nock, and especially for the eventual new version. As Thrasher is a major character in both, and this will make a lot of this boy’s story parts less surprising. Also, reading the warnings will give spoilers as well (but trust me when I say, you WILL likely want to read them as this story gets very very dark) so please be aware of that.

Also, I had a lot of technical issues on this, including not being able to upload the font I made for this to Tumblr so instead just taking pics, a video in this for some reason I could not crop correctly-

I refuse to work on this anymore so it is what it is lol.

Other than Copper, this is my most anticipated backstory. He has undergone a hell of a lot of character development since his first introduction, so much that honestly he is pretty much not even the same character.

Be aware, I consider his backstory the darkest out of everyone’s, so this is not for the faint of heart. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A shape shouted in an olden language, that was long supposed to be forgotten to all but the ancient sage’s.

10 Pure’s in white robes stood around a table, the sound of screaming clear as they chanted. For hours they had been doing this, as a lady huffed and pushed.

As the cry of a baby filled their ears, their chanting stopped as they rejoiced, the green hair and skin like emeralds to them. The father stepped up, grinning as he held onto his wife’s hand. Small black dove wings were curled around the baby as they spread a vial of blood upon his head.

“Welcome to the world… our little angel of death.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

   The young kid looked around his small room, sighing weakly. His name, Razor, son to the most loyal followers of the cult leader ; to [ , Cruci and Laplace.

 He had been training constantly for years for… what he didn’t know. His parents just wouldn’t tell him. He hadn’t been able to go to school, wasn’t allowed to see other shapes not in the cult, and was constantly being forced to his limits. When he peeked over the fence and saw the kids playing and laughing, he couldn’t help but feel envious.

He didn’t understand why he was so different…

At 7 years old he was brought to meet the leader of the cult… Lady Marlene.

She looked at him with a look he couldn’t decipher, being just a bit younger than his parents. The look, he didn’t like, he didn’t know why- “Ah, my loyal followers, how goes the training?” “Wonderful my queen, we thought it was finally time for Razor to meet you.”

The lady’s eyes traveled across him, making the young one shiver uncomfortably. “Perfect. I would like time to check on his training, his holiness, and deliver his first… rune.”

They both bowed to say of course, lightly pushing Razor forward. He didn’t understand what that all meant, and he was terrified to find out. Why, he didn’t know. He slowly took her hand, though not wanting to, her leading him into what seemed like a bedroom fit for royalty.

“You should feel honored my dear, not everybody gets the chance to be this close to me.” “… U-Um… o-ok?” He didn’t know what to say, but with her expression very lightly 'souring he was sure he didn’t say it right. “You don’t understand what your future entails do you? You stupid kid~”

Her grip tightened right before Razor attempted to step back, him whimpering lightly. “I-I’m sorry- please let g-” He let out a cry as her hand collided with his face, the grip keeping him from falling. “YOU are destined to be my King, that means you have to get used to me.” The words made him fearful. King? She also sounded, angry, and there was a tone he didn’t understand nor like.

“Now, we have a major thing to do.” She walked into the closet, grabbing a strange box. When she opened it, his heart started beating quickly, seeing multiple strange metal symbols. “I think your old enough to be known as mine~”

He didn’t know how long he was in that room, screaming as the metal sizzled around his skin, in pain, crying and horrified as she did things he didn’t understand.

When he woke up again, his left leg felt like it had been through a house fire. He cried, trying to call out for his parents.

…. No one answered. He was left alone, with a new fate written out for his eyes to see.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Less than 3 years later, on his birthday he slowly opened his eyes, hearing the pitter patter of footsteps coming up the stairs. Today would be the day, he was supposed to find a hero’s tattoo somewhere. He couldn’t help but be excited, which hero would he be? Water, Earth, Nature, Sky? He heard his door open, him quickly sitting up in bed.

“My dear, are you ready to see your fate?” Razor nodded, heading to the mirror.

 None on his face or neck, so he lifted up his shirt. Nothing, next he checked his legs.

… There was nothing. No tattoo… His parents didn’t take it well. They lost it, blaming him, saying he must’ve done something wrong. He cried out begs and sorries as he was beat into a bloody mess. When they finally left to tell the cult the news, his room was ruined, his body bloody , and his spirit broke.

He did something wrong… Like always. It always seemed to be his fault. He wished he knew what to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Breaking news.

The 1st known hero, Copper and his family has gone missing, along with his boyfriend Aero. If you have any information, please contact General Loga.

The headline of the newspaper was super surprising for Razor, especially since he hadn’t seen his parents in a couple of days. He tried again looking around for the two, shooting up hearing the door open. He walked over, his face paling seeing them covered in blood. “Razor. Grab a backpack and fill it with the essentials, now.”

Their tone scared him, but he did what he was told. He overheard them talking, making it clear to him they were the reason the Earth hero had gone missing. They had tried to kill him the usual way heroes were killed, ridding of all their reasons of living, and their hope.

… But he was still alive. Something was different. His heart beat quickened at the thought, but he had no time to think as they forced him out the door. They walked through the streets, his jacket keeping him hidden from the world. He cried as they suddenly threw him into an alley, his head smashing into the ground.

“Now, your real training begins.” Was what he heard as he slowly tried to get back up. When he looked up… they were both gone.

“…Mom…? Dad?” No answer made his heart pound, as he again called out for them, close to crying. He had never been outside on his own, or anywhere other than his backyard, training grounds and the cult place. It smelled horrible, was filled with creepy sounds, and felt cold-

With no one answering, he curled into the corner, sniffling his hands wrapped around himself.

Real training.. he was scared to find out what that meant.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Razor had been walking throughout the forest for days, feeling more and more hungry and thirsty. A cigarette in hand to keep him calm, he smoked anxiously wondering what he was supposed to do. He had no idea why he was out here… but he sure knew he was getting weaker and weaker. His legs were feeling like they were made of lead,

Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t long before he collapsed, his vision weak. Before he passed out, he looked up, noticing someone staring down at him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Razor sure wasn’t expecting to wake up warm and comfortable, but it was a nice feeling. He slowly opened his eyes, growing confused. He was in a bed in a house he didn’t know… And he could smell food near him.

The house though, smelled strange. And was rather od and beat up.

“Hey kid, glad to see your awake.” He quickly looked over, seeing the older shape that he passed out to. He lightly backed up, before being calmed down by them. “It’s ok, not gonna hurt ya. My name’s Deviance… I’m sure your hungry.” He slowly ate, feeling himself relax, it being strangely really good.

“Where… am I?” “Let’s, call it an abandoned house for now-

… I was called to find you by your parents… You don’t deserve to have to go through this kid.”

Razor didn’t know what to say to that, tensing as the other wrapped their arms around him. It didn’t take long after he realized it was just a hug to bury into it, trying to register all that had happened.

After a few days of getting his strength back, he was shown around his, apparently new home. It seemed to be, well simply a crack house- But… despite that title strangely, the shapes inside seemed nice. They all said hi, them playing around while they worked… it was better than anywhere he had been.

Now he had his own bedroom again… but he was still sure it didn’t mean any big difference between what was waiting for him when the cult wanted him. He wasn’t ready for more pain and training… but he didn’t have much of a choice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Come him being 15, his body was almost fully covered in runes, he had became the leader of the crack house now that Deviance was old and “retired”. Well, kind of, the other still ran everything mainly-

Razor now though, had found about the horrors and wonders of addition, becoming an alcoholic, drug addict, and nicotine addict. He loved being able to feel numb, though he did things he never remembered or wanted to do while the poison rushed through his veins. Seeing Copper though, that was the biggest shock of the past year. Him, Klay and Swarm had been the ones to see him, apparently they beat him silly after he knocked one of his teeth out. Luckily their healer, Shaku was easily able to fix it, still hurt though-

He found himself walking through the forest late at night, per usual, smoking his 5th cigarette today. He was interrupted by his train of thought though… by a soft meow.

He looked around in shock, a cat? Even if it was a cat based shape, that sure as hell wasn’t common. He quickly began looking around, the meow sounded so young. The meowing luckily was easily able to find… and it lead him to the smallest and most beautiful white kitten.

“Heya sweetheart…” The pained meow hurt his heart, slowly leaning down as they limped over. Seemed to be a girl, no collar, so most likely no owner… He carefully picked them up, beginning to walk home. Once they were healed, he softly cleaned them, their purrs making him feel so happy. “I’m going to need to give you a name sweetheart…” They meowed happily curled up on his lap, him smiling as she purred.

“… I got it. Snowball?” “Meow!” He laughed as they nuzzled and licked his cheek, him petting her. “Snowball it is.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of chanting was clear as he covered his ears, shaking in pain and general exhaustion. He had finished his last rune… but that wasn’t why he was terrified. He knew what was happening outside of the cell he was in, the corruption. They were praying for the corrupteds to be dealt with. He was terrified of not knowing whether his family (Not the piece of shit mom and dad he had, he hadn’t seen them since they abandoned him) and little kitten were ok, not knowing what was happening outside the stone walls he was stuck in.

He heard footsteps approach him, each step making him terrified. He knew those footsteps. And he knew damn well what they brought with them.

“Ah my King~ Glad they have finally finished painting your body~” He tried desperately to back away, his heart beating quickly. Marlene’s hand grabbed his chin, fingernails digging into his skin as she ran her other hand across his cheek. He hated this.  He hated being so… helpless to her. So easily controlled…

As her hands travelled down, tears ran down his face, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop this.

He could feel his hope fading, it obvious to him that his fate would be everything he didn’t want for himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next 8 years passed by in a blur, his addictions the only thing keeping him sane. He didn’t know what he did in those moments he didn’t remember, he didn’t know he was attacking Fresh, he hadn’t known he beat up Copper as a desperate trying to pass the blame he felt for himself. All he knew was the few moments he wasn’t drunk or on drugs, of misery and pain, exhaustion, and emptiness.

Now though… He was in front of a King. Nock, the king of corrupteds in the forest. His stare was deadly, his stance and energy filled with so much menace and hatred he felt it could rival the Corrupted Lords.

“HoW AbOUt WE hAVe A LiTTlE ChAT?~” ‘Does he think I’m dumb??’ He said, well what any smart shape would, no way while quickly walking away. But… they said something that immediately made him stop.

“i MaY HaVE a WAy TO hELp YOuR “PrOBlEM”.” He quickly looked over, the look on his face… He knew it was dumb.

But god was he desperate to change his fate. To have his own life. So, he slowly nodded, following the other. They sat down at a table, Nock offering a drink. He knew it probably was dumb to drink, but with his alcohol tolerance he doubted one drink of anything could get him drunk. So he acceoted.

… All it took was one sip.

And Nock had him wrapped around his finger, corrupting him to his will.

“aNGeL Of DEaTH, I HAvE ChANgED yOUr FAtE. NoW…

YoU WiLLbE KnOWn AS cRUsADeR.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AN- And it’s finished! This is the last backstory I had planned, next will be… the remake of Long Live Nock. I’m really glad to finally have been able to tell these stories, also there probably will be some extras for these two backstories posted later.

Hope you all enjoyed!

(Also I will be posting an extras post for the two stories-)

[ffxiiiapologist]

4l*ng stan + member of the “All sex is r*pe if you’re doing it right” crowd telling you not to trust anyone who describes themselves as “normal” one simply has to laugh

[conduitandconjurer]

do you think klaus should’ve called out ben for almost using his body to sleep with jill?

I'm going to answer this question one more time on this blog ONLY because I believe you are a new follower and asking me in good faith. <3 Anyone who has followed me for more than a week knows my stance on this:

Absolutely.

However.

I would think so even if there weren't sexual acts involved. Consent is about many kinds of permission scenarios. Klaus was becoming uncomfortable and sick with the entire possession experience, and trying to kick Ben out of his body. Klaus was saying no. Ben kept going anyway.

No is no, no matter when, and no matter who you are or what are the circumstances. No matter what the thing is that the person is declining. No is a complete sentence.

I don't blame Ben for this, I blame the writers of TUA Season 2 for thinking it was even remotely okay to turn a nonconsensual situation into a joke. Season 2 and 3 of TUA have struggled with an effective way to portray issues of consent in a way that both explores characterization interestingly/tells a good story, AND doesn't reinforce concerning ideas about consent.

And frankly, anyone who reduces this to "which sibling is worse or better as a person, Klaus or Ben?" and engages in stupid fandom drama/hate is completely missing the point.

This is not a popularity contest. It is about the pervasive reach of rape culture, in every aspect and element of our lives, including the media we consume. No, Ben didn't rape Klaus, but his behavior, and the fact that this scene was meant to be "haha funny," supports a troubling ideology of entitlement to someone else's autonomy. And those of us who watch these shows are NOT bad people, so long as we look at scenes like this and go, "Yikes, this probably wouldn't be okay IRL. I'll be mindful of my thoughts and beliefs about this subject."

[strelles-universe]

Brokentail's Band: Brokentail

Name: Brokentail, Brokenstar

Meaning: Unconnected and Obedient

Identity: Cisgender Tom - He/Him

Orientation: Heterosexual - Aromantic

Rank: Prisoner

Former Rank(s): Guard, Deputy, Executioner, Leader

A large brown tabby tom with matted fur and a flat faced named for the broken tabby stripes across his back and orange eyes. Brokentail has horizontal clawmarks over his face rendering him blind.

A real nasty piece of work, Brokentail raised by a foster mother who never wanted kits being spoiled by his dad. His foster mother did almost nothing to defend him from the rumors of outsider blood even after his father, Raggedstar deemed the matter closed. Despite the whispers, Brokentail was always arrogant and self assured of his place in the world. Being the son of the leader, it was always known that he’d succeed Raggedstar in one way or another.

Brokentail was apprenticed early at five moons with the rest of his foster litter and named a warrior before all of them. He was considered the clan’s rising star for his ferocity in battle and ruthless lack of cooperation with the other clans. Any battle Brokentail was in, his side won the clan would claim.

A mere half moon after he earned his warrior name, Raggedstar skipped over his more experienced warriors and named Stumpypaw his apprentice. Brokentail was a harsh and fearsomeone mentor- his praise was rare and his punishments severe. He repeated brushed off the medic, Yellowfang’s concerns and worries about his apprentice’s safety. As soon as Stumpytail received his warrior name, Brokentail was made both Raggedstar’s deputy and Executioner.

This was exactly what the ambitious tom wanted and he waited with growing anticipation. Raggedstar had admitted to still having 7 lives at that point. He allowed Raggedstar to be killed by a rat during a fight at Carrionplace, he destroyed herbs sent by Yellowfang costing Raggedstar two more lives. He goaded ThunderClan into a fight and refused to assist him when the agitated cat killed Raggedstar to end the raid and fed him poisoned prey later. His final act was taking a patrol with Raggedstar alone where he brutally murdered his father then claimed it was a WindClan patrol taking revenge for a former invasion.

When Brokenstar went to receive his nine lives, he entered the Canyons and -much to his frustration- only received five. Still, he now had the mark of a leader on his brow (albeit a strange one) and began making sweeping decisions. Blackfoot was elected as his deputy and Executioner.

He made the ShadowClan apprentice age, 3 moons old and trained them ruthlessly. Warriors were removed from hunting duties and are made to train apprentice and fight near exclusively. Elders and non-nursing queens were kicked from the camp and made to fend for themselves instead of ‘forcing’ the warriors to care for them. Apprentices are responsible for attending all of their training but also to hunt for the entire clan themselves. He accused his medic of killing kits after she annoyed him for the last time about his harsh training tactics and had her executed.

Brokenstar intended to expand ShadowClan’s realm of influence as far as he could and started by attacking WindClan and driving them from their home under the  banner of retaliation for Raggedstar’s death. He also pressured RiverClan into sharing territory under threat of invasion and intended to either drive ThunderClan from the forest or erase them. 

Brokenstar was finally driven from ShadowClan by the combined might of ThunderClan and an enraged ShadowClan when it came out that he murdered his own father and their leader. The parting blows he took resulted in him losing his first life.

Brokenstar took a mate in the rogue, Hound for a very short period of time while living as a rogue. When she revealed herself to be pregnant, he held her against her will and terrorized her, pleased with the idea of having an heir. Hound bided her time, giving birth to two kits Bark and Mask. Brokentail took and killed Bark the second he found out he was male to prevent his kit from growing up to kill him like he killed his own father and allowed Hound to nurse Mask. When Hound could stand firmly on her own four paws, she viciously ripped his throat out, took Mask and ran away. Hound hasn’t been seen since and Brokentail, furious lost two lives.

He later launched a raid on ThunderClan that failed fantastically after attempting to stage a war between then and ShadowClan. He intended to kill the medic easily and move on unknowing that Spottedleaf was more than capable of caring for herself. Spottedleaf took his fourth life from him and blinded him.

He now resides in ThunderClan a prisoner, endlessly enraged by his knew rank and yearning for a chance to return to his former glory.

Mentor: Nightstar, Raggedstar (unofficial)

Apprentice(s): Stumpytail, Mosspaw (deceased), Volepaw (deceased)

Parents: Yellowfang (dame/deceased), Lizardstripe (foster dame), Raggedstar (father/deceased)

Sibling(s): Brindlekit (sister/deceased), Dapplekit (sister/deceased)

Mate(s): Hound (former/unwilling)

Kit(s): Bark (son/deceased), Mask (daughter)

[skull-bearer]

Chapters: 6/? Fandom: Dragonlance - Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Dalamar the Dark/Raistlin Majere, Caramon Majere/Raistlin Majere Characters: Raistlin Majere, Dalamar the Dark, Caramon Majere, Bupu, Tanis Half-Elven, Gilthanas Kanan, Goldmoon (Dragonlance), Riverwind (Dragonlance), Tasslehoff Burrfoot, Sturm Brightblade, Onyx, Kitiara uth Matar, Alhana Starbreeze Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Sibling Incest, Not Graphic but very implied, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Abuse, Escape, Abusive Relationships, Despair, Supportive Bupu, Dragonarmies Dalamar, Loneliness, Isolation, Almost an Ivory Blood and Ebony AU, If You Squint - Freeform, Dark, i did warn you, Caramon is not a good guy in this one, Murder, Hurt/Comfort Summary:

“Want to keep you safe.” Bupu's grubby hand knotted into his robes.

A gully dwarf and a Dark elf. He was doing well, now two people gave half a damn if he lived or died. A great improvement on flat zero. He hoped Nightson had escaped the collapsing city. “You cannot.” Chapter 6: Freedom Raistlin enjoys a little luxury, and he and Dalamar make plans.