#and was living a double life one as a criminal in the dark and the other as just normal Baby with Debra

[psychicbluebirdmiracle]

Not me psycho analyzing all of the characters colors in lockwood and co again

[huicitawrites]

The Hunt

Yandere! Miguel O' Hara x Fem! Spider! Reader

T/W: yandere (slow-burn(?)), dark fic, violence, assault, spoilers for across the spiderverse.

Status: rewritten.

Next Chapter

Word Count: 2,4k

"Y/N! Get. Back. Here. NOW", swinging away from an infuriated Miguel O'Hara wasn't something you had planned or ever thought would occur, never entertained the thought of it. At least not until now, as you desperately attempted to get away from him and somehow escape him- for your dimension-travel watch (as wild as the concept of it sounded) had been snatched by the same man that was madly hunting you down.

How did it even all come to this? Let's rewind, back to the beginning.

Part I

After being bitten by a radioactive spider in a school trip to Alchemax at the young age of 15, you obtained enhanced spider-like abilities: a sixth sense for perceiving danger, incredible reflexes, amazing parkour skills, extraordinary strentgh and flexibility.

And for the past ten years, you have been New York's one and only Spider-Woman.

Learning to use your powers was a whole trip on itself. They awakened rather clumsily -nothing a leap of faith could not fix- as you began to grasp the ropes of being a masked hero in your teenage years [it's safe to say that your teenage years were truly a heck of a rollercoaster].

Handling a double-life was not easy, that is something you have learned with your ten years experience. You saved a bunch of people and thus many lives, you won many times and saved the city countless more. Yet you also earned a bunch of dangerous criminals and villains tailing behind your back that would want to kill you without hesitation and harm you in any way possible.

In spite of the times you were beaten down, left made a mess in the ground, or at the brink of death- you would always get back up because you were Spider-Woman.

Sometimes, getting back up was hard.

The weight of the sake of the city was on your shoulders. And sometimes, that weight crushed you. When you lost your parents it was devastating, because not only had you failed as a hero, but as a daughter.

[Your dad perished in an attempt to save you from an attack of one of many enemies- the Green Goblin . You two happened to be on a ‘father and daughter’ outing in a nice dinner when the Green Goblin tried to draw out Spider-Woman from her hiding place in Brooklyn (unbeknownst of your true identity and much to your own misery and guilt.) After battling the Green Goblin and imprisoning him, you rose with your dead father in your arms, and an huge crack in your heart that would leave a deep scar.

Months later, your mother's followed suit. That day was chaotic, panic filled the streets of New York as The Rhino, a veteran soldier with super human strentgh and a high-techno advanced armor resembling a rhinoceros, laid waste to the city. You were evacuating all civilians nearby, swinging across and into buildings, picking up and scooping anyone you could encounter and putting them out of danger.

It happened as you held falling debris with your arms. You picked up wailing in between the many cries of people, and your spider-sense guided your eyes up from the ground.

A child, no older than five, was crying. He was glued to the floor, too overwhelmed by the calamity surrounding him. A wall from a building was falling on him and your heart beat raced. You still had people below you that were crawling out and the child was a or two block away. Your thoughts raced in your head, you had to save everyone, down to the last live.

"Come on, come on, come on" you muttered in between gritted teeth as you gathered power and lifted the debris into the air. With the help of your web shooter, you pulled all the remaining civilians out and casted aside the courtesy of double-checking as you swinged toward the child.

You could see how the wall fell over him, and you reached out your arm with your forearm out desperately, attempted to pull him out with your web but the wall was already about to touch his head and-

She pushed the child out of the danger, motherly instincts impulsing her feet at the cost of her own life. The child was pushed onto you and you brought him flush against you with your web, arms encasing him as you witnessed the wall collapse on her.

In shock and disbelief, you gently lowered the child to the ground and ran to the fallen wall. Once again in despair, you clawed through the debris and searched for your mother’s body.

You found her bruised and crushed, her face deformed. You brushed the dust off it. Her pained groan was faint, and you begged her right there and then not to leave you. Not to leave you alone, again.

“Is the kid al…?”

“Yes! Don’t, don’t talk. Help, help is coming. You have to stay, you have to.” But her eyes were already fading, and her limbs growing weak. Your disguised hand snatched up hers and you cried,

“Mom!”

She recognized your voice, the one she cherished the most. Her fading eyes gathered all the warmth they could muster and she reached out a quivering hand to your cheek. Her fingers slid into your mask, and she felt your tear stained skin.

“Ah my baby…[Y/n]…I’m so proud... Your father would be so proud... keep it up”. Her last words were voiced with strain, but you would always remember them.]

They became the fuel for your mission, and no matter how many times you were beaten to the ground and wounded to no end, you stood back up. You would save everyone else, no more deaths, you swore upon your parents' last moments.

Now in your adult life, you found yourself in a stable life besides the implications your side hustle not-so-side -hustle brought. You had an adequate job as a writer for small titles in a decent newspaper, and you had a department you shared with your childhood best friend, Peter Parker [who eventually became your tech-desk guy. Hiding your true identity from your best friend and roommate would have never lasted long anyway. You remember clearly the day you climbed into the living's window, beat up, bruised and tired, when the lights suddenly turned on and a Peter with crossed arms and an eyebrow raised was waiting for you like a parent whose child was past curfew. You were without your mask on. Nonetheless, after stuttering uncontrollably and failing to explain and just simply breaking down in front of him. Without saying any words, he took out the first aid kit and reassured you with a smile. You were so grateful to him.]

So now here you were, crouching on the top of The Clock Tower, the moonlight casting its light on your back and darkening your silhouette. Earlier in the day you dealt with some thugs and minor crimes, but since the sun fell nothing happened. That was odd, NYC was never quite, least of all times at night.

But your spider-sense was running, not rampant, but definetely there like annoying itch on the nape. Something had to be off, you knew it.

"Um, I'm not picking up anything, (Y/n). Maybe you should be calling it a night, you've been doing good work so far. You did lower the crime rate, after all."

"You sure Pete? There's this feeling in my gut and-"

"Your 'spidey- thingy' ?".

"Spider-sense, spidey-thingy sounds dumb" you answered with a small groan, rolling your eyes although he could not see the.

He chuckled, "Yeah, yeah, whatever," he turned serious " but I'm not getting anything from anywhere. From police radios and stations to our own hidden cameras"

"Nothing? Sure?"

"I mean everything is awfully quiet now that I think about it... All I can pick up is glitching, let's see... let me do my thing and-" you could hear frantic typing through the comms of your suit within the mask, you could even picture Peter hunching and fixing his eyeglasses.

What he said left you pondering. Glitching? It couldn't be a coincidence that all the radio signals he could pick up were glitching.

"Aha! Here it is, your spidey-thingy was right." this time, you chuckled as if saying 'see?'. He continued, "-this should be a very hidden signal from the special forces team. Seems classified, man they should really put a little more money into whatever software they use to protect their privacy" and he pushed on one final 'enter', the glitching and static got louder almost startling you to which your friend apologized softly, but it evened out.

"Report the situation, Lieutenant Stacy"

"Requesting back-up right now, suspect is armed with advanced equipment, we are at the Port, South East, many of my men and women have been wounded and- oh, shit, shit" The man's words died down with the sound of something big crashing and breaking.

Well, that's your cue. You stood up on your toes and balanced you body weight forward, diving to the ground. With your limbs extended, you stretched your forearm and extended your wrist, web shooting out from the slick web shooter Peter designed.

Swinging from building to building under the night sky, you jumped across billboards and slid past tight spaces as you were heading to the location of the conflict, and the closer you swinged, the wilder your spider sense got.

When you arrived at the port, you saw a SWAT truck that was flipped over, it had a huge dent in the form of a what seemed to be a claw mark, and the windows had been broken. There were a few members on the floor, and you noticed there were two trying to lift the heavy vehicle.

"Let me help," you announced your presence and they whipped their heads. Their faces were glistening with sweat and dirt, and you could notice their equipment was damaged. You crouched and lifted the truck, there was one member there below, and his leg was twisted the other way, but he was breathing- well, panting.

Without further a do, the soldiers went and dragged out their friend. A soldier's face lit up, though they seemed hesitant [after all, your line of work was kind of controversial among the government and its forces] but they were thankful. "Thank you, Spider-Woman", their voice was genuine and you smiled below the mask.

"Your welcome, leave it to me" winking at them through your lense, you nodded and propelled yourself to the ceiling of the warehouse. You noticed a roof canopy at the center, lucky you, and brought the palm of your hand to it. Utilizing your sticky finger pads, you carefully removed a pane of glass and entered the building without making a sound.

"Be careful, please" Peter voiced with worry.

You hanged the web from it's strongest point at the peak, and slowly lowered yourself down until your hand gently brushed the cold floor . You got off the web and crawled in direction of the tingling of the spider-sense. You found some warehouse crates, pressed your back onto them, slowly leaning your head out to take a peak.

A man stood there, a middle aged man by the looks of him. He had a round pair of black sunglasses on and a large leather coat on, but the most outstanding feature was apparently behind him. Four metal tentacle-like arms sprouting from his back, with threatening looking claws. That had to be the thing that put such a dent in a SWAT vehicle, the advanced equipment you heard of in the interception.

He was ranting about something, speaking to himself. "The power of the sun at the palm of my hand, only to be ruined by that fucking-"

‘What is this man even talking about…’

His words died down in your ears as it took a few seconds for your spider-sense to peak, and you scrunched your face features. Your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes squinted, cheeks squeezing up and causing the lenses of the mask to stretch and flatten.

"(Y/n)? Found anything yet?" Peter inquired.

"This man... I think I know him... but also not..." At this point, your spider-sense was rampant. Your gaze still confused as you tried to decipher him. Your spider sense was alerting you of this oddly familiar feeling. It was someone you had dealt with before, but also someone new. Simply off-putting.

Then the realization fell on you, his tentacle-like arms.

"Is that Doc Ock!?" Without getting a hold of your reaction, you accidentally raised your voice and revealed your location. Your spider-sense tingled again, this time, sensing imminent danger as you backflipped and dodged the incoming attack. The crate you were hiding behind of was broken into splinters.

"Come on out, Spider-Man!" he shouted, his voice in pure anger.

Spider-Man? As long as you remember, you never referred to your disguised self as Spider-Man...

"It's Spider-Woman, mind you" You revealed yourself off the shadows, and the light basked in your costume, revealing its signature colors and design. "Do I know you by chance?" you tited your head, inquisitive in your tone as you were trying to figure things out.

The man's expression fell, and his rage was replaced by annoyance.

"Is this some kind of sick joke, Spider-Man? Have you forgotten the name of the man whose work of life you ruined, Otto Octavius." His tongue rolled of his name with spite and you widened your eyes.

"Doc Ock? But, you are different. You are totally human". Last time you checked, Doc Ock was a mad scientist that turned himself half-octopus by bioengineering his genetics in the name of some sort of sick evolution idea. He had tried to turn the city into mutants like himself for 'the sake of humanity's future' and you managed to stop his plans. Furthermore, he had been sent to a high-security prison for villains, where an anti-serum is being developed to turn him back and halt his aggression.

"Are you pulling my leg Spider-Man?" He said with disbelief, and he began to appear more and more angry by the second. He muttered something below his breath, and you swore you saw one of his tentacles turn toward his face as if it were sentient and listening...

"I've told you it's Spider-Woman." You huffed out, chest puffing out. You had a bad feeling about this...

The man's hand ran down his own face and he groaned, visibly tired. "Well, whatever, but you do appear to be an ally of Peter Parker's, your costume and your name leave little room for further speculation". The mention of your friend raised up your guard, how did he know Pete? Any doubts and hesitation erased themselves of your mind, for your friend could be in lethal danger.

"Oh? What's the matter, 'Spider-Woman'," he sneered.

"Picked right on the web, hmm?" He edged on, a dangerous smirk dancing on his face and two claws raising up in the air, ready to pounce.

There was not much to it, as you jumped sideways to dodge whatever that clawed-tentacle-armor was. You found yourself right back at the gig, fighting a villain as the one and only Spider-Woman.

Or so you thought.

A/n: Hi! So when I first saw this fictional man I KNEW I had to write about him, originally, it was going to be a long one shot, but I decided to break it into parts. I expect this story to be up to 3 parts or 4 as most. Anyhow, I hope you come to like it!, and sorry for the long- ass intro, I really wanted to dwelve deeper into reader as a spider person. Next is the real thing. I have seen some people have asked me to tag them, so don’t be shy to ask too!

[battymommastuff]

The Other Side

Batmom x Batman, Batmom x Batfamily

Prompt: While digging through the attic, Dick Grayson and Jason Todd uncover a secret about their adoptive mother. A secret that reveals the true, and dark story of the most loved couple in Gotham City

!!TW!! - MENTIONS OF SA AND OTHER DARK THEMES

Part 1 Part 2 Masterlist

!!DISCLAIMER!! - This likely won't be comic accurate (Obviously), but I did draw inspiration from the comics. If you are looking for something accurate, then this fanfic isn't for you.

You didn't get a chance to address the deep voice before a cloth was covering your face and the world went dark. A throbbing pain came next when you awoke. You were laying on a very luxurious bed. Looking down, you saw that you were still in your same clothing. Just a silk robe that covered your underwear. Your heart was racing as you looked around the room. Whoever lived here, lived in style. Everything looked as if it would cost you bodily organs to own. 

Before the shock could wear off, the two massive double doors opened, and a man walked into the room. A mask covering his face, and his eyes watched you carefully. Your body visibly shrunk as you stared at the intimidating man across the room from you, "Ms. (L/N), I do want to apologize for the rather harsh retrieval of you. We have to take precautionary measures these days." The man said while stepping closer to you. He stepped into the moonlight, and you finally saw every detail of his mask. A golden bird mask...no owl mask. What the hell is going on? 

"W-What do you want with me?" You asked, moving off of the bed once he got too close to you. The bed now served as a barrier between you and your kidnapper, but it didn't provide any comfort for you. All you could think of was being raped, and sold on the black market. Gotham City wasn't the safest city, but you never thought this would happen to you. How did this happen? There was always security watching over the bunk area every night to make sure this never happened. How did these men get in to kidnap you? Whatever the reason, you didn't feel safe with the circus anymore. 

"To give you a chance...a chance to be apart of something great. My organization works from the shadows to ensure the safety of our beautiful city..." Beautiful isn't a word you would use, but sure, "You possess a talent that could be beneficial to our cause." The man picked up a remote and turned the tv on. What played was several of your acts and some of your rehearsals. All taken from vantage points, and places that you wouldn't have noticed someone watching you, "We've come to realize that our organization is seen as a myth, a boogeyman. Many criminals fear us, and with your talents...we could harness that fear." He stepped around the bed and started making his way towards you once again. The fear you felt kept your legs from moving, so this time he got uncomfortably close to you, "Join us (Y/N). Join us and help us purge Gotham of everything that taints it." 

The Court of Owls. One of Gotham's scariest myths. You've heard whispers of them while spending days in the city. Some of your fellow performers even mentioned them once or twice. Everything you've ever heard was never good. This cult believes they are doing the right thing, but are harming so many in the process. You couldn't join them...you couldn't live your life in the shadows. What could ever be so wonderful about someone so full of darkness? It seemed that the man saw what you were thinking, and he backed away, "Such a shame...you would have been such a valuable asset. I'm afraid if you won't join us, then we have to do away with you. You will pose a risk to all of us." The man turned his back towards you, and you knew now was your chance. Grabbing the closest thing to you; a lamp, you hit him over the bed. The man dropped to the ground, and you ran to the window. Luckily you weren't too high from the ground, so you pushed the window open and climbed out. 

You could hear voices and yelling as you dashed into the dark, raining city. You hadn't a clue where you were going, but anywhere would be better than this. The circus would be the first place they would look, so you had to find somewhere new. You could hear footsteps behind you as well as some above you. They were after you, and they were fast. Thankfully, your breathing training worked wonders. Still you were no match for these skilled men. They managed to corner you into a dead end alley. This is it. The place where your dead body would be found. It all ended here. The vile smell of puke, piss, and garbage filled your nose as you looked around at the court members closing in on you, "P-Please...I promise I won't tell anyone. Just let me go." You pleaded, but it seemed to fall on deaf ears. From behind you were pushed to your knees, and you could see your reflection in the blade meant for your death. 

The member lifted the blade up, but before it could meet your skin...a rope wrapped around their wrist. With a scream, they were pulled into the darkness. It felt as if all sound in the city stopped...everything went quiet. You felt fear before, but this was a new level of fear. A fear that you never would forget. A black shadow flew by, grabbing another member. This caused the rest of them to ignore you, and turned their attention to their surroundings. Now would have been the perfect time to run, but your legs were screaming. The adrenaline was wearing off, and it felt like you couldn't move an inch. A bolt of lightning flashed through the sky, right as a shadow covered the alley...a shadow of a bat. The mysterious savior dropped down on one of the members, and a fight broke out. You could only watch in awe as your savior took down every single member without much struggle. Once it was over, the figure turned towards you. Again the lighting allowed you a glimpse of him. The bat symbol of his chest matched the one in the night sky. 

"Batman..." You whispered, with relief before your eyes rolled back and you slumped to the ground. Batman walked towards you, and gently picked you up from the ground. He didn't see any visible injuries besides little scrapes on your knees from being pushed to the ground. Even now you were just as beautiful as you were while performing. He held you close and summoned the Batmobile. No hospital in Gotham would be safe enough for you. He needed to take you to the batcave. There you would be safe, and he could question you. 

"Alfred, get the med-bay ready. We have a guest." Batman said into his comms, after sitting you in the passenger seat. Your head leaned on the window, but your lips were starting to turn blue. Judging from your attire, you must have been getting ready for bed. With one final look over to make sure you were secure, he raced off into the streets of Gotham to the batcave.

TAGLIST

@maxinehufflepuffprincess @tayswhp @rainycloud858 @luna-zendra-star @starlets-things @simpfourmarvel @kawaistrawberry21 @js-favnanadoongi @kodzukenmaaa @xxrougefangxx @pixviee @discocactus-world @b4tm4nn @minimoxha @crutoyu @nightw-izhu @legendarylearner18 @mangegeek17 @pixiedust0604 @that-one-fangirl69

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Wrong One 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Raymond Smith

Summary: You get caught up in the double lives of your employers.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The men leave you as the last of the sedation wears off. You languish as the worst possibilities swim through your head. You don’t know what’s going on but you know they’re dangerous. This is the sort of mix-up you can’t just laugh off. It’s not like you got the wrong drink at the cafe, this is very, very real.

You curl your fingers, only halfway as the numbness creeps up each digit. You shift in the chair, your tailbone aching from the barely cushioned seat. Your knees are no better your bound ankles keep them at an awkward bend.

You lean your head back and groan. Your efforts to breathe out the shadow of panic only sparks it. You feel a sudden surge of terror. You’re going to die here. All because those men made the wrong choice.

No! What did they even want with Mrs. Malfort? How on earth could she be mixed up with the likes of them? She’s tall and pretty and sophisticated. Her hair is always just so and her outfits are always carefully coordinated. Her and her husband are the very picture of upper class. These men are criminals at best.

You sit up sharply, the chair rocking. You lean forward, pulling against it. The frame creaks. Could you…

You push back again and swing forward. This is stupid. What are you doing? Even if you can get yourself free of the duct tape, you doubt you’ll get past these walls.

You rock again. You’re not thinking, your adrenaline is drowning out any sense. Back, front, back front. The chair falls backwards and you curl your chin down to keep from smashing your head. Great, the chair is still intact and you’re just on the floor.

You whine and let your head loll to the side. This is absurd. You really can’t accept that it’s real. Your luck can’t be that bad.

Click, the door opens. You whimper as the chair crushes your hands. Suddenly, the world tilts back to normal as the chair is pulled up. 

It’s him, the leader. You know him by his blue eyes. He backs up and crosses his arm as he stares at you, his mask barely concealing his agitation. You give a sheepish cringe.

“What do I do with you?” He asks.

You try to shrug but can’t. You suck in air and shake.

“Let me go? I won’t say anything–”

He puts a hand up and you snap your mouth shut. You don’t need him to tell you to be quiet. You’re too terrified.

“Rhetorical,” he growls. “You might not intend on saying anything but there are people who will find a way to make you.” He turns and paces to one side, then the other, then faces you again. “They will know…”

You nod and flick your lashes as your eyes burn. That means there’s only one option. You’ve seen the movies. You’re not dumb but you are fucking scared as shit.

You close your eyes and brace yourself. You sit like that, cheeks taut, mouth drawn. You can at least die with dignity. His tread scuffs and he sniffs.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

You open one eye, “hm? Oh, I’m getting ready.”

“For?” He reaches up to rub his chin through the mask.

“Death.”

He’s quiet as he cups his jaw. He clucks and exhales through his nose. He drops his arms straight and shifts his weight to one foot.

He reaches behind himself and wiggles something free from his belt. He brings the gun around and checks the chamber. You close your eyes again and squeak. You’ve never seen one up close. Your blood is ice. Your teeth chatter as you hide behind your eyelids.

Really? Isn’t your life supposed to flash before your eyes? All you see is black.

You wait. It’s coming, it’s coming, it’s coming–

He sighs and you hear a metallic click. You wait until you can wait no longer. You open your eyes, peeking through your lashes. He pushes his head back in exasperation. “Fuck.”

“Come on, dude, this is torture. I can’t wait any longer. I got a nervous stom–” you hold back a wretch, “a nervous tummy.” You gulp back again, “I don’t wanna die with puke in my mouth.”

“Shut up!” He waves his hand angrily, “shut up.”

You seal your lips, if only to stave off the swell of nausea. It’s getting worse. Now that it’s really sinking in. The end. Oh no, no, no!

“I’m gonna barf.”

“What?”

“It’s happening.”

“Don’t–”

“I can’t–” You hold your breath, spasming as you fight the vomit bubbling in your stomach.

“Stop it,” he demands.

You nod and groan, bending your head forward as your insides clench. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he stomps across the room and grabs a plastic bag. He approaches you and holds it open. “In here. Not on the carpet.”

You lean as far forward as you can and hurl. You wretch until you have nothing left, acid searing your throat as the bagel you ate for breakfast floats in chewed chunks amidst the bile. You sit back and heave.

“Thanks,” you let the tension leave your shoulders.

“Ugh-gh-gh,” he shudders as he closes the bag, “that’s… that’s gross.”

He holds it with one hand, away from his body.

“Tastes pretty bad,” you grimace.

He shoots you a mean look and you wince. He twists the bag and ties it in a knot. He turns cautiously, as if it might break, and strides to the door. It opens and slams behind him.

You didn’t think things could get worse but the taste of puke definitely isn’t better.

[tianasficrecs168]

The Sandman Fic Recs

Magnolia35: Moonflower (Hob/Dream) • "Hob has to do a double take because Dream is crying; big, ugly, hiccuping sobs that wrack his skeletal frame to the point where Dream looks like a leaf in the wind. The raven that’d been following the man the last time they met— Mike or Martin or Matthew or something— pecks at the guys shoes. The story of how Hob Gadling starts a pub, beats up a god, stares down Death, falls in love with Dream of the Endless, and amasses a small army of fidget cubes. Not necessarily in that order.

TinyButFierce: "Into Darkness and Howling (I'll Keep Him From Drowning)" (Hob/Dream) It was beginning to sound like Roderick Burgess had something or someone trapped in his basement. Hob was starting to wonder if he should do something about that.

MonstrousRegiment: “The Uses of Adversity” (Hob/Dream) What led Hob Gadling — at the time known as Robert Stranger, because he’d been in a permanent state of pettiness from 1889 to about 1904 and now he was stuck with it — to the dank, cold, and dark basement of the Burgess house on March of 1957 was not so much coincidence or fate as it was curiosity. Yeah. Cats isn’t the only thing it kills. Alright, wait. Back up. Let’s start from the beginning. It was 1957 and Hob Gadling was, by no action or choice of his own, sort of — it’s a bit embarrassing — a criminal master. Not mastermind! He hadn’t planned any of it. Honestly.

CeruleanHeart: - “Darker, Still” (...) (Hob/Dream) When Dream doesn't show up for their appointment in 1989, Hob decides to devote a part of his immortality to looking for his mysterious friend. He is dedicated not to wait and hope for another century for the slim chance of seeing him again. Even if he has to bribe, lie and steal, use every trick in the book he's learned in the past 600 years, he will find him. After over a century, Dream has almost given up on the hope of ever escaping his prison when help finally shows up in the form of someone least expected, compelling him to re-evaluate the nature of his interest in an old acquaintance.

Snits: - “Country Roads (Take Me Home)” (Hob/Dream) • Hob and Dream go back to Hob's for a nightcap. While they're there, they address some trauma, and Hob finally learns the name of the man(-shaped being) he's known for seven hundred years.

Sonhoedestrazao: “These days of dust” (Hob/Dream) There is something different about him, though his appearance is identical. The curious part of Hob Gadling, the one that ensures that his wish to live persists through the ages, can’t wait to figure out what it is exactly. (Or: the New Inn encounter continued.)

Sonhoedestrazao: “Stuck in a season” (…) (Hob/Dream) Hob Gadling opens his eyes in the year of our Lord of 1889, in a tavern that he somehow knows no longer exists, among people long dead. Alone at a table for two, he leans over and says to no one in particular, “He’ll be back. You’ll see.” (Or: how to deal when your nameless friends keeps appearing in dreams and a talking bird approaches you with dating advice.)

Majestickasztan: “Painted by sorrow” (Hob/Dream) • When Hob looked up and found his oldest friend looking back, he was, one could say, taken aback. But when you're immortal and things go according to your expectations, life gets very boring very quickly, so he couldn't bring himself to complain. Not that he wanted to. He was pining for this guy since 1489, after all.

KatieKat527: “Perchance to” (Dream/Hob) • Hob Gadling muses on modern advancements. Only as they pertain to a sleepy morning in bed with his “stranger.”

Newfandomnewpseud (Broodthaers): “A Mug’s Game” (Dream/Hob) Hob Gadling teaches history, flirts with Death, gets a boyfriend, and accidentally breaks the laws of the universe.

Brackets (…) means it's still being updated/not done/WIP – and I'm paying close attention to it

Zeros with a strikethrough (000) Disappeared off the net (I still have a doc of it saved somewhere)

A black dot • means it's a one-shot

Ship with + means it's either time travel or dimension hopping – something along those lines

A heart ♡ means it's focused on Sexy times (it's pure filth PWP)

[onlyangellucifer]

I LOVE YOU, ITS RUINING MY LIFE

PLOT:

It’s the biggest trial of the year and the whole world is watching. Stakes are higher and tension is higher. Little do they know, the prosecutor and defence attorney are in love.

OR

Harry is a popular defense attorney in London & Y/N is a popular prosecutor. Both are known for rarely losing & now they’ve found themselves in a pickle.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:✧*⋆.*:･ﾟ✧.: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾

WARNINGS:

Mentions of murder, blood, and the likes (nothing too graphic), smut (in the future), angst, fluff, etc. will add more if any others pop up!

AUTHORS NOTE:

Hello!! Ive been MIA, sorry. However, ive come bearing gifts! Below the cut is a sneak peak at this new short series (no more than 6 parts atm). Im working on the other series’ too, sorry for the delay. Hope you can forgive me. Anyways i hope u enjoy defense attorney!Harry 🫶🏼 the preview also isnt proof read, so excuse any typos. Meaning things WILL be changed / could be changed & moved around! Not sure of word count, but cant be more than 1500. Its short.

London hasnt seen a case this high profile since the case of Harold Shipman, who killed up to 250 victims. Many feared this may be another case of Jack The Ripper, as they double checked their doors at night, hoping the serial killer wasn’t going to show up at their door. The relief that washed over the town when the police had finally caught the man whom they think is responsible for the latest killings of 20 men and women. The scenes were too graphic to show on tv.

Y/N ended up with the case. The crime scene photos were unnerving to her and interviewing the victims families made it even worse. Bile creeping up throat as she read the horrific things that happened to each victim. She wanted to know this case by the back of her hand, because of course she was up against one of the top defense attorneys in the country. He rather lost and found plot holes in every single case, having a 97% success rate with getting his clients off the hook and their record clear. She thought noone would pick up the mans case, there was so much evidence that pointed towards the man.

Harry was attractive, tall, dark hair and those piercing greenish hazel eyes. Y/N was nervous and she hated being that way. Harry often came by the law firm, having connections with anyone and everyone. His career was unmatched, he was handsome, wealthy, the whole package. Yet he was single and that blew Y/N’s mind.

Harry was just as shocked as Y/N to learn they’d facing each other in court. He was certain his client did it, but, he had to defend him anyways. He was called by the court to do it pro bono, as noone else wanted to take the case. If he lost, his numbers would certainly be impacted. If he won, people may look at him differently in a moral sense. Surely though there was a plot hole and the prosecution would slip up. He couldnt believe it was Y/N who got the case. Soft, shy, gorgeous Y/N. He already developed this small crush on her and now he had to take her on in court? Surely this wasnt a good thing. It had to be God punishing him for helping criminals and making a good living while doing so. Harry always viewed her as the more submissive type and his dirty thoughts were hard to keep at bay. Maybe that was the reason God was punishing him.

While Harry laid awake, staring at the ceiling, Y/N was doing the same. Y/N had never seen Harry in action, but, she’s heard how he’s always been strict and concise in the court room. His dominant side coming out, and that scared Y/N. Especially because she imagined him being dominant somewhere else, mainly at night when she lay in bed alone with her thoughts and hands.

[lilasamaaa]

Miss missing you | Charles Leclerc x Reader

Genres | Angst, Hurt.

Word count | 2.1K

Warnings | Breakup, depressing thoughts, mentions of cheating.

Summary | Reader wakes up the day after her breakup with Charles and reflects on their relationship. Inspired by the song "Miss Missing You" by Fall Out Boy. Author's note | Sorry for being criminally addicted to writing sad things.

Don't panic, no, not yet

The living room shutter is closed. Impenetrable.

She has no idea how long she's been like this, slumped on her couch in the dark, her face irritated by the relentless assault of her tears. Outside, she knows life has gone on without her. She suspects the sun has risen, like every morning. That darkness has given way to light, like every morning. She even heard her neighbors in the hallway, heading to work. Like every morning.

Taking a deep breath, she feels her heart and throat tighten, tears doubling. She didn't even know she had that much water in her body. It's not just an ordinary morning. It's the first of many mornings where she will wake up with her heart in pieces.

I know I'm the one you want to forget

She remembers, a few years ago, listening to Taylor Swift's "Mr. Perfectly Fine" for days on a row. She remembers cursing Joe Jonas, she even remembers feeling so sorry for Taylor. What kind of guy breaks up with his girlfriend over the phone?

Well, Charles, apparently.

She's not stupid, not blind, not even a little naive.

She had felt it coming. Had noticed him slowly drifting away. The calls were less frequent, and the ones she managed to intercept, shorter. She knows there was someone else. Maybe multiple someones. They'd somehow stopped talking about him, about her, about them. They only talked about races, cars, airplane trips. That's the only thing that seemed to keep them together. The only thing that had brought them together in the first place. She, the daughter of the CEO of one of Ferrari's sponsors. Him, the one who wore the suit with the logo printed on it.

Cue all the love to leave my heart, It's time for me to fall apart

She wished her heart would close. She wished she could block his access to it. She wished she could reclaim it, as one might retrieve the keys to an apartment once shared. But that bastard remains wide open. It's almost embarrassing, the way her heart, cruelly empty, hopes to be filled again. To feel his warmth once more. To beat for him again.

Her mind has stopped functioning, but her heart, somehow, hasn't stopped. It keeps beating, selfishly. It keeps her alive. For what? To feel the hurt, the betrayal, the despair? Honestly, it's not worth the effort. The poor thing should have just stopped.

Now you're gone, but I'll be okay, Your hot whiskey eyes have fanned the flame

She's young. She's had flings, but she's always been the one to end them. Charles was her first serious relationship. The only significant one, actually. She didn't think the pain would be so raw, so physical. She feels like she can sense her heart crumbling a little more each time she thinks of him. She feels it in her chest, swelling, taking up space, trying to escape. It wants to leave her body. To break free from this darkened, wounded brain that suffocates it.

She's not against the idea. It can leave. She can function without it. She's almost convinced of it, if that's what it takes to feel alive again. To feel like her again.

Maybe I'll burn a little brighter tonight, Let the fire breathe me back to life

Her heart isn't the first to be broken. Won't be the last.

She's heard stories from friends, from close ones, who've gone through breakups. Today, she feels so foolish for feeling so little concern about those stories back then. She's always been a listening ear, an unwavering support. She's sat in bars, cafés, bedrooms, listening to stories of betrayal and broken promises, and she simply didn't believe it would ever happen to her. As if she were above the laws. Above all that. She remembers listening to tales of broken hearts like children listen to myths of dragons, of wizards, of magic.

That's what it was for her. Fantasy. Something so unreal, so inconceivable.

Even though it hurts, she has sworn to let herself feel everything. The good as well as the bad. She knows that one day, she will look back on this period of her life, and she won't be overwhelmed by sorrow and pain anymore. But today, she has to go through it, let the flames lick her body to better heal her wounds later.

Baby you were my picket fence, I miss missing you, now and then

She'd never introduced a boyfriend to her family. Never envisioned a future with anyone. Never looked at houses with anyone. But with him, she did. A few months ago, while strolling on the hills of Monaco, she'd passed by a gate behind which a stone path led to a discreet little house. She'd fallen in love with the garden bordered by trees and flowers. She'd liked the color of the gate surrounding the property. She'd even found charm in the slightly crooked chimney protruding from the roof. She'd taken a photo of the "For Sale" sign and sent it to Charles. He had responded with a series of emojis (a face with hearts for eyes, sparkles, a star, the rest she can't remember). He had promised to call to set up a visit.

She would never walk down the stone path.

Chlorine kissed, summer skin, I miss missing you, now and then

She's never been drawn to wealth. She was born into it. Penthouses, luxury cars, diamonds hold no charm in her eyes. She's always been searching for more authentic, more simple things.

One summer when Charles had suggested a yacht outing, the lovers had ended up on a poorly patched-up rowboat that was taking on water. The monacan had complained all afternoon, but she still remembers the sensation of lying against him, against his warm, salty skin, alone in the world in their small boat. A feeling that no amount of money could ever buy. A feeling that no amount of money could ever get her back.

Sometimes before it gets better, The darkness gets bigger

What had begun as sweet and innocent had taken a turn.

Times were tough. His job was demanding. Exhausting. She did her best to support him, to show him he could lean on her anytime he needed. He wouldn't talk. Little by little, she was abandoning more and more things from her daily life to dedicate herself to his. His stability. His success. His worries. Sometimes, she felt like she was losing herself, but she knew it was temporary. She thought she would soon get the old Charles back. Even when he started going out late. Even when he started coming home late. Even when he started not coming home at all.

The endless suffering hadn't brought her anything. In fact, it had taken everything from her.

The person that you'd take a bullet for, Is behind the trigger

She knew the signs, had seen them in her own parents. When they ate together, he could go through the entire meal without meeting her gaze. When she placed her hands on his body, he would sometimes shiver. Not the shiver of anticipation from the early days. The kind that suggested he didn't deserve the display of affection.

Her own friends seemed oblivious to the situation. "I ran into Charles yesterday, at the club," "I saw Charles in town with a friend", "Aren't you with Charles today?". Were they trying to pretend everything was fine to protect her? Or were they already distancing themselves from a situation they didn't want to witness?

Oh, we're fading fast, I miss missing you, now and then

She pinpointed the breaking point as her sister's wedding. How ironic, she'd thought. Celebrating love, respect, and unity when I feel none of these things in my own relationship. Charles had arrived late, his hair disheveled, tie slightly askew. She had felt tears burning behind her eyes, had bitten her cheek to hold back from exploding in the middle of the church. She refused to believe that he had done that to her. That he had disrespected her on this day, in this place. Her entire family had cast a glance in her direction, had observed the way Charles had slipped between the guests to sit next to her. Without a glance. Without a touch. Her sister, speech in hand, had taken a few seconds to start. "With you by my side, I know I can face anything," she had started saying to her husband, letting her eyes meet the teary ones of her little sister.

Making eyes at this husk, around my heart, I see through you and we're sitting in the dark

He told her everything, recounted everything to her. From what he felt in the car during a race to his latest argument with his brother. She read him like an open book, could anticipate every word, every gesture, every thought, even. To joke around, she often said she knew him better than she knew herself. Upon reflection, they got together when they were eighteen. Had she even had time to get to know herself, or had she cowardly built herself around him?

The idea of pursuing her life's journey without him terrified her. She didn't know who she was, who she wanted to be. She didn't even know if she liked herself. She sometimes wondered if he knew her as well as she knew him. If he knew her favorite color, her favorite song, her favorite season. She always ended up pushing those somber thoughts away, reminding herself that these concerns were those of a schoolgirl, and got back to her duties. To taking care of him.

So give me your filth, make it rough, Let me, let me, trash your love

She was gentle, with a calm nature, almost maternal.

She never lost her composure, never raised her voice. But she had yelled that day. When they arrived home after the church ceremony. She would never forget, and he probably wouldn't either, how her voice had broken when she had shouted three words, three little words that had been enough to shatter everything. "Who is she?".

She, who admired him so much, who thought of him as a man of the purest and most sincere nature. She had given him a chance to repent. He hadn't seized it, hanging his head low. That day, facing her anger, the pain of a betrayed woman, she'd found him so small that he was almost ridiculous. He hadn't responded, of course. Hadn't said a word.

I will sing to you everyday, If it will take away the pain

She'd stayed. She wasn't sure if love made her do it. Perhaps it was out of habit. Or masochism. But she had stayed, and life had resumed just as it was before, for a few weeks. They had started waking up side by side again, sharing their day over a meal again.

Making love, again. She hadn't even realized they had stopped touching each other, desiring each other. How long had it lasted? A week? A month? Six?

He played the piano in the evening, proclaiming a love strong and indestructible over the keys, letting his fingers glide from white to black, filling the apartment with sounds and colors that had disappeared. Of feelings that had disappeared.

Oh, and I heard you've got it, got it so bad, 'Cause I am the best you'll ever have

She had let herself dream of the life before.

A life where Charles had only touched her, only tasted her. A life where she didn't discreetly grab his phone every night when his breathing indicated he was asleep. A life where she didn't send messages to Carlos at all hours of the day and night to find out where he was, with whom he was when she wasn't there. A life where her sister didn't regularly tell her how worried she was about her, finding her too thin, too stressed, too distracted.

So, she had left. She had left the spare keys he had given her on the dining table. She had fled his apartment and returned to hers, the one she had just planned on returning the keys to the owner, ready to move in permanently with him. She had spent three days alone, spending entire days in the dark. Ignoring the messages and calls of her mother, her father, her sister. Carlos, too.

Baby you were my picket fence,

By the end of the third day, he had finally called, and after three rings, she had picked up.

Neither of them had spoken for several seconds.

Then, he had done it. For the first time in months, he had been honest with her.

"It's not working anymore," he had sighed into the phone. "I can't do it anymore."

She had hung up.

Lain down on the sofa.

Waited for the day to save her from the night.

I miss missing you, now and then,

Now and then.

[linipikk]

SO, I come here today to talk to you about Aziraphale, Jane Austen and the double life he lives.

Because Nina teasingly refers to Aziraphale as being mysterious and surprising as a dark horse

and you know who else is referred to as equally surprising, a dark horse? Jane Austen

and I like how with Jane, we get Crowley's AND Aziraphale's version of the same person, who we very well know wrote books.

From Aziraphale, we get the things we mostly know about Jane: A novelist who held cotillion balls.

From Crowley, we get her secret outlaw activities: Jane was the brains behind a Robbery, a Brandy smuggler, and a master spy.

And, as Aziraphale didn't know about Jane Austen's criminal career, Crowley didn't know about her artistic endeavors. Her good side is hidden from Crowley, and her bad side is hidden from Aziraphale.

But also, there are some interesting parallels between Jane fucking Austen AND Aziraphale.

The minisodes show us that Aziraphale was an unwilling alcohol smuggler in 1941

he can also fool everyone when the time matters to his side and to Hell's side. In fact, his job as an angel is basically being a spy.

But also, he wrote extensively, he has many diaries that are just lying around in his shop

And of course, he has organized at least ONE cotillion ball

And, the brains behind ...well, many plans at this point, including saving Job's children, manipulating the room to make the angels believe those are Job's new kids, playing his own game for thousands of years. Aziraphale is the one finding Clues and finding who Adam was back in the Armagedidnt. I wouldn't put it past him to be paying his own part in the three-dimensional chess by going back to heaven.

It is very deliberate that the minisodes show mostly Aziraphale backstory, from his own point of view, he knows very well what he has done, the good and the bad.

And that's exactly my point. I think Crowley doesn't get the full picture of Aziraphale just yet

We know they don't communicate very well. And even after all their years together, they still have very strict preconceived conceptions about what angels are supposed to be and what demons are supposed to be, even when they themselves transgress those all the time.

I'm fairly convinced that Crowley's "You don't dance" surprised tone in the ball is carried from the idea that angels don't dance from season one, even tho we know from God's narration that Aziraphale does.

After 6k years Aziraphale not only is still surprising Crowley with cotillion balls and firearm licenses, and, as Crowley didn't know Jane's ordinary life, it makes me think Crowley really doesn't know about Aziraphale's diaries detailing their history together. (Bit of a Chekov's gun from Neil, imo)

note: From what I know, there is no such thing as the 1810 diamond robbery, it being entirely fictional but I am going deep into the suspension belief and run with it

[rinadragomir]

It's me trying to convince y'all to get invested in the Sword Catcher, read it all cause I tried!

1) I need someone to talk about it + see your theories/memes/edits, I NEED MY FRIENDS IN THIS FANDOM okay?!

2) listen, we have to wait about 2 years before The Wicked Powers, let's try to distract ourselves with something exciting!!

Reviews from George Martin (my beloved, listen, this man knows a good fantasy book when he sees one, trust him), Holly Black and Leigh Bardugo

Synopsis (read the full detailed version here):

In the vibrant city-state of Castellane, a young orphan named Kel is stolen from his old life to enter a new one of luxury and peril. He’s to become Prince Conor Aurelian’s body-double, shielding the Prince from all dangers. As his ‘Sword Catcher,’ he and Conor become close as brothers – yet Kel lives for one purpose: to die for Conor.

Lin Caster is an Ashkar physician, part of a community ostracised for its rare magical abilities. But events pull her and Kel together and into the web of the mysterious Ragpicker King who rules Castellane’s criminal underworld.

Together, they’ll discover an extraordinary conspiracy. But can forbidden love bring down a kingdom? And will their discoveries plunge their nation into war and the world into chaos?

Here, a boy lives to protect his Prince with his life. A girl is destined to return lost magic to the world. A Prince must choose between his heart and his duty. And thrumming beneath it all, the heartbeat of a city unlike any other. Welcome to Castellane.

Known characters: (from top to bottom, from left to right, please appreciate the wonderful arts below)

Kellian Saren - our protagonist~ was kidnapped from his family when he was 5 and brought to the palace in order to be the Sword Catcher, the body double for the Crown Prince(🏳️‍🌈?). Used to have a crush on Antonetta, now too busy spending time with Prince Conor (🏳️‍🌈?). Big spoon energy

YOU'LL SAY: Rina... bestie he looks exactly like the second guy a bit lower, why so many Will Herondale cosplayers🤨 YES YES, THAT'S THE POINT, THEY HAVE TO LOOK ALIKE, IT'S LIKE Keira Knightley and Natalie Portman in Star Wars

Lin Caster - female protagonist, doctor, is skilled in healing magic (Catarina & Clary's daughter🤨?). There is a prophecy surrounding her, that says a very powerful goddess would return one day and it would be one of the girls from her community, ~possibly her~

Antonetta Alleyne - Heir to the wealthy silk charter, her mother dotes on her, dressing her in lace and grooming her to marry Prince Conor (the next guy). Her, Kel and Conor used to have this gang😎 when they were kids, but then her mother decided to turn her into a Kendall Jenner and now she's 💅🏻not like other girls💅🏻 and makes this ew sound everytime our protagonist walks by (secretly feels something else towards him....I guess?...)

Conor Aurelian - our Prince🤴🏻definition of: So you're a tough guy, Like it really rough guy, Just can't get enough guy, Chest always so puffed guy. What else? Oh, everyone tries to kill him and he hides behind his boyfriend's back. Little spoon energy

Joss Falconet - some lazy whore, idk. He has been friends with Conor and Kel since they were all small children. He loves parties, a good time, and ridiculous exploits, but there may be rather more to him…Matthew Fairchild core?👀✨ maybe....

The Ragpicker King - he's so 😋😩🤤he lives his dark emo girl aesthetic life. Doesn’t have a name or real identity. He lives in a big black mansion in the middle of Castellane and runs the crime scene. My future husband btw

Merren Asper - part-time student, full-time poisoner, and hopeless romantic. Merren has a dreamy, cheerful personality, despite being a poisoner. Well good for him, god bless🌿 he seems like a mixture of Kit Herondale and Wylan Van Eck

I'm going to update this post in case Cassie shares some new information!

The first book comes out on October 10 THIS YEAR so~ you can pre-order🌟✨for example, I can't so I'll just wait till someone sends it to me once it's out.

I REALLY hope I managed to get you slightly invested. It seems like a really nice fantasy series and I'd like to support Cassie's new work. She gave us our beloved TSC world and I have a strong faith in her. I know it's hard to dive into a new series but let's give it a chance!

@chibi-tsukiko @hahahax30 @roseofthomas @queenhelenblackthorn @not--a--pipedream @tea-and-a-clandestine-agenda @spacehero-23 @tys-kitty @carelessflower @dustandducks @one-fond-mortal @magnus-the-maqnificent @delightfullyterrible @learningshelfcontrol @thewolfnephilim @literallytypogod @gayforcarstairsgirls @clockworkbee @elettralightwood @captainswanandclintasha @radisv @lord-jethro @luciehercndale @bytheangell

[phantom1fanatic]

Em | 25 | She/Hers | PST | Minors DNI | 21+ preferred

━━━━━━━━━━━━

♕ LGBTQ+ member and friendly

♕ Searching for fandom and original universe roleplays

♕ Doubles and multiples preferred over single pairings

♕ I can play either gender

♕ Any gendered pairing is welcome

♕ Expect 200-2000+ word replies depending on muse and time

♕ Response times vary

♕ Love to chat ooc, share pinterests, memes, aesthetics, tiktoks, music, etc about our roleplay and characters

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Fandom Interests

Crossovers/Multifandoms

Spiderman: Across The Spiderverse

911/911 Lonestar

The Rookie

Ted Lasso

Z Nation

Marvel (MCU)

DC (cartoons mainly)

Young Justice

Detroit: Become Human

The Walking Dead

Arrowverse

Umbrella Academy

Prison Break

Midnight Texas

Suits

Kingsmen

Good Omens

Supernatural

Shameless

Disney Retellings

Deception

Jurassic World

Code Black

Station 19

Man from Uncle

Man from Toronto

Pokemon

Stranger Things

Altered Carbon

Terra Nova

LA Brea

Watch Dogs

Mr. Robot

Horizon: Zero Dawn

Reacher

The Boys

Hazbin Hotel

ATLA

Merlin

Note: I am more than willing to play multiple canons against an oc for you if asked. Would like if you could play at least one canon in return!

Note 2: Pink is what I’m craving most atm

━━━━━━━━━━━━

General Themes

Reincarnation

Time Travel

Natural Disasters

Past Lives

Soulmates

Hurt/comfort

Divine Enti

Dinosaurs

Hackers

Hanahaki Disease

Apocalypse

Deserted Islands

Fantasy

Sci-fi/Space

Slice of Life

Dark Themes/Dead Dove

Paranormal

Wild West

Medieval

Superpowers

Modern

Period Dramas

Mafia/Criminal Underworld

Egyptian Mythos/Pantheon

Dragons/Dragon Riders

Mermaids

Decade (20s, 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s)

Slowburn

Note: I’m always interested in your ideas, please feel free to reach out.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Pairing Ideas

Throuple/Poly

Fallen Angel/Angel

Fallen Angel/Demon

Fallen Angel/Human

Angel/Demon

Angel/Human

Human/Demon

Half Angel/Demon

Half Angel/Human

Angel/Demon/Human

Angel/Demon/Fallen Angel

Human/Supernatural Creature

Supernatural Creature/Hunter

Royalty/Commoner

Rivals (sports, spies, etc)

Detective/Sidekick

Detective/Criminal

Ghost/Nonbeliver

Hero/Villain

Mermaid/Pirate

God/Human

God/Lesser Deity

Enemies to Lovers

Roommates

Arranged Marriages

Fake Dating

Opposites Attract

Forbidden Romance

Note: Love mixing/matching pairings so just lmk if you have any ideas!

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Are you interested? Perfect, I’d love to hear from ya! PM me for my discord and we can get to plotting!

Happy roleplaying 🌸

[batmannotes]

McFarlane Toys DC Retro (The New Adventures of Batman)

6 inch Action Figures

McFarlane Toys announces the upcoming release of DC Retro: The New Adventures of Batman 6" Figures.

Incredibly detailed 6" scale retro style figure based on the THE NEW ADVENTURES OF BATMAN.

Designed with articulation with up to 12 moving parts for retro play.

Collect all McFARLANE TOYS THE NEW ADVENTURES OF BATMAN figures.

A playboy billionaire by day, Bruce Wayne's double life affords him the comfort of a life without financial worry, a loyal butler-turned-guardian and the perfect base of operations in the ancient network of caves beneath his family's sprawling estate. By night, however, he sheds all pretense, dons his iconic scalloped cape and pointed cowl and takes to the shadowy streets, skies and rooftops of Gotham City.

Incredibly detailed 6" scale retro style figure based on the THE NEW ADVENTURES OF BATMAN.

Designed with articulation with up to 12 moving parts for retro play.

Accessories include Batarang and Bat-cuffs.

Collect all McFARLANE TOYS THE NEW ADVENTURES OF BATMAN figures.

Acrobat Dick Grayson was the youngest member of his parents' death-defying circus act. But after their cold-blooded murder, Dick vowed revenge. Seeing a genuine piece of himself in the boy, Batman took him in, and gave him a better outlet for his anger. Becoming Batman's protege, Robin is an expert fighter and astounding acrobat, with the toughest example in the world to live up to. But the Boy Wonder's true strength may lie in not being Batman, and providing a beacon of hope and family throughout the Dark Knight's grim crusade.

Incredibly detailed 6" scale retro style figure based on the THE NEW ADVENTURES OF BATMAN.

Designed with articulation with up to 12 moving parts for retro play.

Accessories include Bat-radio and Batarang.

Collect all McFARLANE TOYS THE NEW ADVENTURES OF BATMAN figures.

Not all heroes in Gotham City wear masks. GCPD Commissioner James Gordon is the Dark Knight's greatest ally, and one of his closest friends. 

Incredibly detailed 6" scale retro style figure based on the THE NEW ADVENTURES OF BATMAN.

Designed with articulation with up to 12 moving parts for retro play.

Includes Bat-Mite accessory.

Collect all McFARLANE TOYS THE NEW ADVENTURES OF BATMAN figures.

The mean streets of Gotham City have a number of guardian angels watching over them. And one of the first, the young woman who turned the Dynamic Duo into the Batman family, was Batgirl. Barbara Gordon has always existed between two worlds: her life at home as the only daughter of Police Commissioner James Gordon and her life swinging from gargoyles as an associate of the Dark Knight. 

Incredibly detailed 6" scale retro style figure based on the THE NEW ADVENTURES OF BATMAN.

Designed with articulation with up to 12 moving parts for retro play.

Accessories include Batarang and Bat-cuffs.

Collect all McFARLANE TOYS THE NEW ADVENTURES OF BATMAN figures.

No name strikes terror into the hearts of Gotham City's citizens quite like the Joker. In a city overrun with larger-than-life criminals, the always-laughing villain stands alone. A complete psychopath with no moral compass whatsoever, the Joker, whose real name and identity remain completely unknown, is characterized by his chalk-white skin, green hair and a permanent rictus grin stretched across his face. But there isn't a single thing funny about this particular clown, who only finds humor in the suffering of others. 

Incredibly detailed 6" scale retro style figure based on the THE NEW ADVENTURES OF BATMAN.

Designed with articulation with up to 12 moving parts for retro play.

Includes newspaper accessory.

Collect all McFARLANE TOYS THE NEW ADVENTURES OF BATMAN figures.

Possessing a genius-level intellect, the Riddler creates elaborate, sometimes Rube Goldberg-esque traps, and is even willing to use innocent civilians as bait. Although not physically imposing, the Riddler's brilliance, neurosis and lack of empathy make him an incredibly dangerous foe. He cares very little, if at all, about the lives of those he uses in his plots and instead only sees them as disposable pawns in his continuing intellectual battle against Batman.

Incredibly detailed 6" scale retro style figure based on the THE NEW ADVENTURES OF BATMAN.

Designed with articulation with up to 12 moving parts for retro play.

Includes Riddler's question mark cane accessory.

Collect all McFARLANE TOYS THE NEW ADVENTURES OF BATMAN figures.

Preorder now at Amazon.

[manjiroscum]

EQUINOX

Character/s: Blade

Warnings: gn!reader, mature language, suggestive content, ooc(?)blade, implied dacryphilia, implied yandere tendencies, headcanons, hsr universe. Minors do not interact.

Note: (⁠っ⁠.⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)⁠っfirst time writing for hsr! this was supposed to be short but i got carried away lol so have boyfriend blade headcanons and enjoy～☆

BLADE never fails to refuse you each time you ask him to walk you back to your apartment. Why? Not to brag or to shame your methods in saving, but he has a better roof under his head for a criminal. He couldn’t fathom why you would want to return to that apartment where your bedroom doubled as a living room and kitchen. That and your landlord was a nosy son of a bitch. He thought you would be far more comfortable here, next to him. Having you around to a point it was annoying him was far better than worrying about your safety in that shitty place. Your place was close to a dangerous area (albeit he was far more dangerous than those bastards terrorizing the district).

Each time you walk out of the door, his impulse to pull you back in and keep you there would flare up. Of course, he couldn’t beg you to stay. He has never been good with words, opting to stare intently at your back until you feel the weight of it. He reminded you of a grumpy old cat—fleeing at the sight of humans but always coming home to the one person it tolerates. Even now, he was still glaring at the door as you put on your shoes. You couldn’t stay tonight, after all. You had work and he had somewhere to be at tomorrow morning. He will never admit out loud that he loves that you respect his privacy and not meddling with anything concerning his ‘occupation’, yet he sometimes wished you would complain. To start pleading for him to stay with you here rather than go out there and risk getting caught.

“Don’t frown. I can take care of myself, you know.”

“I know.”

BLADE believes you, he always does. And that, in itself, is something he rarely does. His current standing in society couldn’t afford him to be so trusting towards everyone or anyone. You take pride in yourself that you were able to earn his trust. Whenever you text him that you were home after work and how you would simply wait there for him to come to pick you up, he knows you were telling the truth. It was your honesty that had him caught up in your web, unable to pry himself away nor does he want to. It has been such a long time since he felt the same warmth from another person, especially when they knew what he does and what he has done. No one can blame his cold heart for wanting to figure out how long you could burn in order to thaw its thick barrier.

He continues to test you, though. He did the same when he first felt that spark he tried to snuff out because he didn’t want someone to tie him down to a planet he has been trying to break free from. From those moments of anger to the deafening heated arguments that always end in deathly silence, he lives to see those eyes of yours alight with an emotion he knew all too well. But love behind those irises suited you far better. That is why whenever he was in the wrong, he always found a way to make things right, even if he had to result in methods you usually frown upon. And you know this was him trying to be good for you, acknowledging his efforts to keep you around—to balance out the darkness that has rooted itself in his being ever since the people he always believed in have long since walked out of his life.

“Must you do this?” Your tears have long since dried since the sad movie ended. The credits roll continuously on the screen, his lips pressed against your cheek. His teasing died down on the tip of his tongue, opting to hold you close.

BLADE hates seeing you cry. Whether it is because of pointless things like sad films or because he was too mean, he couldn’t stand seeing tears staining your pretty face. Unless, of course, it was due to something else—like how the sensation of him inside you, stretching your tight walls, was too much for you to take. He takes delight in your messed up face, twisting due to unexplainable ecstasy coursing through both of your veins that sing praises despite the heat. His muscles burned under his flesh as he continued to thrust into you, insatiable to your whines and the sound of his name leaving those sinful lips of yours that saved a sinner like him. Those tears of yours, your moans—everything that happens behind the bedroom door was his and only for his eyes only. Anyone who hopes to take a peek at the paradise he craved shall taste the sword he brandishes after every passion-filled night, taking in the sound of you breathing peacefully next to him. Your naked body underneath his sheets is unmoving as he stares at the weapon in his hand, a cloth in the other.

He will never find another person like you, this he was sure of. And that is why he holds you close while maintaining distance which drives you absolutely crazy. Fear of losing you plagues him at night, yet also questions why you continue to stay with him. You were far better off with someone else. A person who would readily drop everything for you, someone who is strong enough to handle the idea of losing you. He could never be that person. He knew he was selfish. Selfish to take a person’s life who dares to threaten to minimize the hours of the day he should be spending with you. Selfish enough not to let you go because you were the gravity he longed for so long that he forgot he ever dreamed of it.

“I hate how you have such control over me.”

BLADE whispers his adoration in absolute secrecy. However, you didn’t have to ask him or reconfirm that he does share the same feelings as you. He abhors how a human being that could easily be taken away has such an effect on him, but he will never have it any other way. Your constant presence was welcomed and your warmth was a drug no amount of pain can dull. He would try harder and if it isn’t the best, he will go above and beyond. Such an emotion he held for you was the bane of his soul and also was the very thing that kept it from completely dying. And if the Aeons would try to take you away, BLADE will not hesitate to stand before them to do the exact same thing—to take their pitiful lives to bring you back with the dullest weapon he can find to inflict the same pain to a tenfold.

[cosmictapestries]

In honor of Cageblade week, I thought i'd play the headcanon game and list some of my favorite headcanons for our favorite couple over the next few days

Today, I'm starting with our Best Girl because NRS has done a criminal job of flushing out her character in both games and media.

1) She grapples with PTSD.

Let's start with one I think a lot of people have in different degrees.

I do believe that a lot of what people see as Sonya being cold or unemotional stems from a lot of the trauma she has seen as a soldier. Her father died. Her brother died. Her brother in arms died and was brought back as a revenant. Everything she's been through has colored how protective she is of her family and she's deathly afraid of not being able to keep them safe.

When Cassie was a baby, Sonya would wake up at night and go watch her sleep just in case. If she got overwhelmed, instead of letting anyone see her upset, she'd go and cry in the shower and hope the running water hid the noise.

Part of what broke her marriage up was the almost obsessive need to keep Johnny and Cassie safe. If that meant missing out on their lives by working, she was okay with that. She realized too late it had pushed she and Johnny apart but didn't know how to fix it, so she doubled down and hid in her work.

2) She does have her share of luxuries that she won't go without.

Good coffee, dark chocolate and aged whiskey are all things i think she has a well known fondness for and Johnny indulges her in. After years of military life, i do believe she secretly enjoys going to the spa with Johnny and Cassie and getting her nails done. Ask her to admit it and she'll kick your ass.

3) She's a dog person.

Growing up in Texas and spending time/living with her grandparents gave her a love of dogs and in particular working dogs like German Shepherds or Belgian Malinois. I headcanon that Cassie wanted a puppy, Johnny wanted a designer dog and Sonya compromised by adopting a retired police dog. He's supposed to be Cassie's but Sonya adores taking him out for hikes.

4) She's a marathon runner.

Aside from countless hours spent training and honing her body for fighting hand-to-hand, i've always thought that Sonya is a runner, both to release stress and because she enjoys it. She's completed both the Boston and NYC marathons in record time. Johnny and Cassie are at every finish line as her #1 supporters.

5) She loves Johnny fiercely and it both confuses and infuriates her.

Sonya is used to being alone, she got used to it and and liked it. Loving someone like Johnny wasn't in the plan so it really threw her for a loop. He constantly reminds her that life is all about balance, that you need to have both work and play. She has more fun with him then she's ever willing to admit and it also scares the hell out of her because she's lost so many people.

6) She's Bisexual.

Even after the divorce, as angry as she was, she was still in love with him. She just refused to admit it.

When Sonya loves, it's with her whole heart. My headcanon is that she's had relationships with both men and women.

7) She remembers every kill she's made.

Names, faces, ages. Even if it's her job and she does it well, it haunts her. She doesn't sleep well and often finds herself awake, wondering if she could have done something different. Her greatest wish for Cassie is a peaceful world where her daughter won't face the same regret

[physalian]

Could you make a post about a character slowly losing their humanity while trying to hold onto it? It's a main theme in my current WIP and I cannot for the life of me figure out how to go about it.

Losing their humanity like “The Fly” or “Metamorphosis” where it’s a curse/transformation/sickness, and is both quite literal and mental? Or losing their humanity as in, a character has done unspeakable things and is spiraling into psychopathy?

There’s so many directions you could go here depending on what your genre, rating, and tone is. First, you have to define what humanity means to you as an author and what it means to your world and your characters. Murder might be the worst crime in one novel, and a casual occurrence in another. So, at what point is your character no longer “human”?

This is incredibly specific to your story and advice here is definitely not ‘one size fits all’ so I’ll do my best and I’ll use a very popular movie to back me up: The Dark Knight.

Harvey Dent goes from saint to savage in less than 3 hours, about… I think three weeks maybe in-universe? The movie pulls this off in a few ways:

Right off the bat, there’s hints that this character has a loose circuit somewhere. Comics fans know he becomes Two Face, but layman audiences are still thrown a bone with Harvey’s rather quick rise to prominence in infamously-crime-ridden Gotham. So, he’s not starting as Mr. Rodgers.

Harvey’s job puts immense pressure on him to perform with a lot to lose if he fails. This makes his room for error to avoid catastrophe very narrow and raises the stakes for every action he takes. In essence, any one mistake can be devastating, making catastrophe more believable in the story.

When he starts losing, he loses a lot very quickly. Harvey is bombarded with the mob gremlins trying to escape the law, the Joker running around blowing up holes in the justice system and raining chaos everywhere, his wishy-washy girlfriend who’s hesitant to accept his proposal, and increasing pressure to hand over his hero, Batman, to a maniac, to stop the murders, and he can’t do much of anything about it. Even with small victories, it’s one step forward and three steps back and he’s being fundamentally and existentially thwarted at every turn.

He’s desperate, afraid, and powerful, three *very* bad traits in combination. His slippery slide into madness gets a little steeper when he kidnaps a criminal and screams through an interrogation, then it drops off a cliff when Rachel dies instead of him in a so-called game of chance.

“Chance” here, and Harvey’s ability and presumption of control, is his whole identity. He’s Two-Face. He’s got a double-headed coin to rig his bets. When Rachel dies, he’s lost control over everything, and he just shatters. She dies and he lives and he abandons his core values to embrace Joker’s vision of absolute anarchy, because what’s the point in trying to fight fate?

All of this works despite this monster of a plot, where he’s not even the main villain, because he had so far to fall, and the world of Batman lends itself to insanity coming on quickly. Joker even says that “madness is like gravity, all you need is a little push”.

So without having any details on your WIP I’d have this to say:

Figure out what moral code or person or object your character holds most central to their identity

Circle the drain of destroying it, forcing the character to grow desperate enough to protect it, going to ends they normally wouldn’t with the best of intentions

Destroy that thing

Let them crumble in the aftermath as they can no longer reconcile their core beliefs with the world they live in, and lash out as the wounded animal they’ve become

[fishymom-art]

BOOM!!!!! SUDDEN OC REF SHEET DROP!!!!!!!!!

Say hi to my beloveds!! Some of them were created around uuuhhh 2012/13 maybe, but they went through drastic redesigns throughout the years (specifically Rose, Polen, Amelie, and Raff + Milo, who didn't change a bit), and some of them are brand new (Eru was my D&D character and Tim was created out of nowhere inspired by my husk redesign lol)

Details under the cut!

They exist in The End Realm - the prison of all the other realms, where all criminals and whatnot go. There were so many people, that The End Realm developed it's own communities, politics, etc. It homes many many different people from every part of the multiverse - Human Realm, Ether Realm, Occult Realm, etc. The leader of The End Realm is Raff (or Armel Howl, as he used to be called), an emotionless demon who controls his subjects with their every step. His servants - Shadows - watch everyone and everything around his isolated castle and the rest of the Realm. He tricks people into making a deal with him and they own him their lives. They get a golden jewel with a red ruby in it that is unbreakable and a swirly tattoo is carved into their skin to showcase, that they belong to him. If a person tries to break the pact, they become one of the Shadows. Tim Baccarat - The only human out of the whole bunch - He/They - Demisexual - 28 y.o - Used to own a casino, now works as Raff's butler, coz he owns him. - Was exiled from the Human Realm for Soul Gambling. - (Inspired by Tim Wright from Marble Hornets, Husk from Hazbin Hotel, and Jeeves from Jeeves and Wooster) ((what a combination)) - Voice Claim: Husk from Hazbin Hotel (Keith David)

Rose Seed - Dark Fae, pretending to be a Love Fae - He/She - Gay - 26 yo - Native to The End Realm. A singer and a performer in general, Raff's assistant. Was found by Raff with a missing wing and made a deal. - (Currently inspired by 10th Doctor from Doctor Who, Angel Dust from Hazbin Hotel, Francœur from Monster in Paris) - Voice Claim (for noooow): Angel Dust from Hazbin Hotel (Blake Roman)

Eru - Aasimar (at least originally) - They/them - Aroace - 38 yo - Used to be a part of a high religious power/church in the Ether Realm, but was exiled due to going against some of their beliefs. Leads a rebellion against Raff. Had a son. - (Inspired by Odysseus and Athena (specifically from EPIC: The Musical), and Queen Angella from She-Ra) - Voice Claim: Odysseus from EPIC: The Musical (Jorge Rivera-Herrans)

Polen - Forest Fae - She/Her - Pansexual, Polyamorous - 35 yo - Native to The End Realm. Eru's right hand in the rebellion. Used to be best friends with Rose, but they stopped talking after he made a deal with Raff. - (Currently inspired by Daisy from The Magnus Archives, Hecate (specifically from Lore Olympus)), ZombieCleo (any Life Series, mostly Last Life though) - Voice Claim (might change): Lizzo, lol

Amelie Fairchild - Succubus - She/They - Lesbian - 32 yo - Raff’s maid. She used to be a high overlord but Raff took over and she signed an unbreakable contract so he doesn’t kill her. Is very in love with Polen. Wants to be a part of the rebellion. Was exiled from the Occult Realm for being weak. - (Currently inspired by The Beast from Beauty and the Beast (I am a horrible person lol), c!Captain Puffy (Dream SMP), and Pearl (Double Life)) - Voice Claim: The Crane Wives (specifically "Curses")

Raff (Previously: Armel Howl) - Demon, used to be a human - He/It - Bisexual - 29 yo (looks like that at least) - Highest overlord of The Realm. Leads an army of shadows, that look over each and every person in his realm. He has eyes everywhere. Was exiled from The Human Realm many many years ago for practicing Dark Magic (creating Shadows). - Voice Claim: MISSIO (Matthew Brue)

Milo Howl - Unknown - He/Him - Unknown - 9 yo - Raff’s son. Powerful being. - Voice Claim: Sushi Saucy

[sunshine-burnt]

I Do Not Like Your Hat

Summary: Dazai always did hate Chuya's hat.

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Some days, Dazai Osamu wished he was never born. Some days, Dazai Osamu wished he was dead. And some days, Dazai Osamu was okay with living.

This was not one of those days, though.

Dazai Osamu did have to admit that his days seemed to be getting brighter. No longer was he constantly hounded by the sins of his past nor was the tune of the suicide song playing in his mind. His desire to commit double suicide was slowly lessening (though his hunt for a beautiful maiden had yet to cease), and he did not find the arms of the river quite as comforting as before. Finally, to everyone's surprise, he had even started coming to work on time. Whether he was productive during the day was still up for debate, though. All in all, Dazai was seeing improvement.

It scared him.

Running, lying, fighting, that was all in his blood. And even if it was not there naturally, he had spent enough time being injected with violence and the need to die for his entire life. He was a criminal, a demon sent straight from hell, a monstrous sinner (and a lost child attempting to navigate adulthood). Dazai Osamu had no right to live, no right to happiness.

And today, these thoughts had driven him from work and family, from some foreign brightness back into the embrace of a not-so yet all too familiar darkness.

The alley he strode through brought him little peace, tortured screams echoing in his mind. Blood dripped from every nook and cranny, and if he ran his hand over the wall he would witness that non-existent crimson staining his palm. He saw bullets embed themselves into innocent, clean flesh. The air reeked of death, a friend Dazai could never leave behind.

So lost in thought, the brunette man missed a piece of a shared past and found himself stumbling into the wall. The brick was rough against his palms, and the uneven asphalt bit into his knees through his pants. He scowled, turning to catch sight of an accessory he had always hated.

It was that dumb slug's hat.

Dazai pushed himself against the wall, glaring at the pork pie as if it had personally offended him. The ugly, little hat stared right back at him, growing more and more unsightly as the silence stretched on. Disgust worked its way onto his face, memories of a certain red-haired man resurfacing. Damn that bastard. Why'd he have to leave that nasty thing right where he was going to be? What was the world scheming today? Well, whatever it was, he didn't like it. Still, something pulled him to his ex-partner's topper.

The world of yesterdays rushed over him, and he was left victim to the recollection of the days following Odasaku's death.

Mori Ogai was too much. Too violent, too deceitful, too cruel, etcetera, etcetera, the list went on infinitely. Well, not infinitely seeing as there were far too few words to describe that horrendous man. Osamu could see that clearly now. His escape to the 'good' side would soon be upon him, and he wished to take no remnants of his mafia days with him. Nothing other than the mark of death, of course. It was not as if he could wash himself of that branding so easily. What a pain fleeing the Port Mafia was going to be.

Snoring interrupted his thoughts, and his gaze was directed toward the slightly noisy man resting in his bed. It had been a long, hard week, and Dazai hadn't had it in him to kick out the slug, a change he hoped the other would never notice. Indeed, he had been getting softer and softer on his fiery partner as the months had passed, and when his rusty haired friend had left him, Osamu had been able to express his grief to him.

Nakahara Chuya continued to slumber peacefully, a rare treat for him.

A silent sigh slipped through his nose, and he resisted touching the man's calloused palms with his own, both drenched in unseen blood that was not stoppered at the wrist. He wondered, briefly, at telling Chuya, at convincing the other to come with him, at searching for forgiveness together. Death was also a heavy weight on the ginger's mind (Osamu knew this well enough after seeing him drink once a mission was finished). It could be nice, just the two of them, fulfilling Odasaku's wishes. Saving orphans, guiding the lost, all things that that strange man had been so good at, so devoted to. And maybe, just maybe, they could both be rescued, they could both find salvation.

Dazai Osamu was not an idealist, though.

Nakahara Chuya, his partner in crime, was just that. His partner in crime. He was bound to the Port Mafia, swathed in chains of brainwashed loyalty and threatened with praise. He was the organization's dog, always at Mori's beck and call, always eager to prove himself. The red-head's chance at freedom had been stolen from him years ago and, ironically, that damned thief was Dazai Osamu himself, the demon prodigy preparing to desert.

Osamu caught sight of an especially hideous item resting on the nightstand. The hat, a gift of Mori's, tempted the arsonist within him. He was already planning on feeding his coat to the flame, why not toss the slug's accessory too? He glowered at the pork pie, yet another bond that tethered Chuya to the organization. The stupid thing meant too much to his partner, a representation of the mafia claiming to be his home. And that dumb boy had accepted that dumb assertation. Dazai hated him for his choice, but it was not as if he could do anything.

He was, after all, the one at fault.

Nakahara Chuya knew something was off. The air of the penthouse was just barely saturated with something musty, something familiar. The smudge on the left most window seemed a little larger than it had been yesterday, and the softness of the carpet had been disturbed. The red head narrowed his eyes, pinpointing the wooden coffee table. Someone had been in his house. Chuya crept forward on silent feet, that eerie red glow, which signified his power, surrounding his lean figure. Carefully, he rounded the white couch and focused on the item left on the glossy surface.

His hat sat innocently before him, no sign of another's touch to be seen. A relieved sigh exited from his lips; he had been looking for the damn thing since sun down of yesterday. Chuya lifted the pork pie, eager to feel that comfortable weight on the crown of his head yet again when a small slip of paper fluttered out from the hat's opening. Curious, he picked up the note and opened it to read.

"For the dumb slug. I thought you couldn't go anywhere without your brain. -D.O."

Dammit, Dazai.