#i want to commit a crime

[katelfiredemon]

Got into work today and immediately tripped off of the stage while making direct eye contact with the head of events.

The head of events: Don’t worry, nobody saw that

(Everyone in the room is actively staring at me)

[shirleyjacksonesque]

rewatching taskmaster s8 and just got to the hammock task and oh my god i want to kill iain stirling so bad

[sunfiltersthroughwillowleaves]

how about. i stab you in the throat. with a 10 inch hunting knife.

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF game Vanessa is doing her best to play nice,,

[somnoir]

Bats and Phantoms - Part 1

Prompt: All the Phantom/Fenton Siblings end up with one of the Bats and Birds. It's just that neither of the two families know that their partner is related to their siblings' partners.

Danny and Red Hood

Going to Gotham for university was a planned decision, mind you. It was one of their many contingency plans in case the reveal went wrong. Thankfully, it didn't but his parents were still trying to change their views on ghosts for the sake of their children. Last he heard from his parents, Jack and Maddie Fenton were practically harassing every ghost they could find on culture, history, and etiquette. (He's gotten one too many complains from Box Ghost and Poindexter.) Plus the mess that was the situationship between the Fenton Couple and Vlad Fucking Masters. (Dante was about to kill himself again for that).

Gotham had enough ambient ectoplasm for him to be stable. Everything was very normal. Absolutely...

If not for the fact that Danny loathed clowns. When a clown decided to try and attack Danny, what does he do?

He did what every self respecting Fenton would do when faced with something he absolutely hates. He came at him swinging, aiming for the face.

And maybe he put a little too much power into the punch and the next thing he knew, a body was flung against a wall and breaking it on impact. Danny stares at the toppled wall and—HOLY SHIT HE JUST KILLED THE JOKER.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—BATMAN WAS GOING TO KICK HIM OUR OF GOTHAM!

But this was the Joker... The last time that crazy fucker got out of Arkham, he threatened to blow up an orphanage. Okay, he could do this. Gotham Harbor it is.

And in typical Fenton fashion, his luck was shittier than ever.

"What the fuck..."

Danny whipped around, freezing in place when he came face to face with the Red Hood. The fucking revenant of Gotham that the city spirit seemed to really favor. Fuck.

"It's not what it looks like! I mean—It is—But, like..." He swallowed thickly, trying to offer a smile but he flinches away when Red Hood snapped his head from the corpse then too Danny.

"That's the fucking Joker!" The Red Hood was pointing a gun at the corpse now, voice distorted and everything.

Yeah. Well. Shit. Danny gulped, finally deciding that since he was already half dead, he might as well clean up. Not like the Red Hood could kill him—I mean, he could, but Danny wasn't going to die by a bullet.

"You—" The gun was now pointed at him.

"It's not my fault he decided to fucking jump me!" Danny immediately argued, grabbing the clown by the legs and dragging him forward before he winced at the trail of blood. "It's a clown! A fucking clown!"

He yelped when the crime lord slapped his hands away from the corpse, "The fuck is wrong with you? Don't fucking touch the corpse unless you want that shit to traced to you." The Red Hood grunted, shaking his head. He sounded... He kinda sounded giddy, in all honesty. Why the fuck was the Red Hood teaching Danny how to get away with murder?

"What were you even going to do with the body?"

Danny cringed away. To tell the truth or not? Such a difficult question... Okay, he's pretty sure most of the Bats were like detectives and lying to this one might get him shot.

"Gotham Harbor?" He squeaked out.

Danny was met with silence and the man built like a fucking fridge (but he's so damn sure that Dan was still the tallest person he knew) didn't move a bit. Then his shoulders shook. And then he was laughing. Fucking shit, the Red Hood was laughing because Danny was going to dump a body in the harbor.

What was Jazz going to say?!

(Meanwhile, Jason Todd finds a strange boy that makes him feel strange, warm—the same boy had killed his worst nightmare. He might just have fallen in love right then and there.)

Part 2 | Masterpost

[magnusraydar]

Tim: So lmao, that's how I lost my spleen and my sanity for a brief moment

Dick: Wait, is this when Ra's kicked you out that window?!

Tim: yup

The rest of the Batfam:

I imagine Tim telling the Batfamily his Red Robin run got his ass so grounded he had to be manhandled into the Robin suit because at least they can keep an eye on him if he's Robin. (DC keep Tim out of the Robin role or at least make it fucking funny, cuz i swear to god I'll beat you ass.)

[s0fter-sin]

thinking about the way ghost doesn't hesitate to start killing shadows when graves betrays them but soap only takes one hostage

you can almost hear the voice in his head telling him it doesn't have to be this way; they can still talk it out

"i'm calling shepherd"

his first instinct when confronted with betrayal is to play it by the books: to go up the chain. that goes against everything we've seen him do. he bucks authority at every chance except for the one time he's confronted with the barrels of his allies' guns

he wants a peaceful resolution; for the first time we've ever seen, he doesn't want violence to be the answer. there has to be another fix, a solution that doesn't end with him killing the same men he's been working with; his friends

nothing's happened yet

it doesn't have to go this way

but ghost has been betrayed before. he knows the way this ends; either with him six feet under or his enemy

he doesn't hesitate

it's only when they knock alejandro out that soap shoots; when they spill the first blood and cross a line they can never come back from

only when ghost orders him to run and he has to cover his retreat

and somewhere along the line, between civilians’ screams and taunting voices, between his shaking breath and ghost steady in his ear, that naivety is stripped away; his trust turned to teeth that he uses to sink into throats of men he'd have given his life for

"be careful who you trust, sergeant; people you know can hurt you the most"

he's learned the price of trust

just like ghost did

but unlike ghost, he has someone to guide him through the aftermath

"good advice, It"

[fixing-bad-posts]

hehe crime

[annyankers]

for all the amicability in the whirlwind later on i think it's really important to never lose sight of why dru was turned and then why she in turn sired spike. she was tortured and turned for angelus' enjoyment, her continued suffering brings him pleasure. he owns her, she is a Thing to him and she has no way to escape this. she makes spike to be "her brave knight" a position that, especially in fairytales, means a very romantic man physically protects and serves a woman who is usually gonna end up being some kind of damsel in distress.

while yes dru is evil and a vampire she's still obviously very upset about what happened to her and those moments seem to be her times of lucidity, not delusion. not to mention that she's already been beaten out of the notion that she can escape angelus, she tried to as a human and it didn't work, it likely won't work now either, especially if darla sides with him. but with spike around there's someone who basically always takes her side and fights to keep angelus away from her. who is, at least, a buffer between her and her tormentor. he also takes care of her and validates her, something neither darla or angelus seem to be interested in doing at all.

i feel like people tend to intellectually remember what happened to her but forget that it you know, has long lasting consequences when say, they evaluate her behavior in late s2 when angelus comes back. like... yeah ofc she goes back to appeasing him and shit. spike's a wheelchair and she was beaten into shape to be "daddy's little girl" (gag) YEARS before she even MET spike. her abuser is back and her defender is out of commission not to mention her whole view of reality has been actively warped by the most narcissistic sleezoid around.

and all the reasons why people love spike or point to as why he's better with buffy or whatever.... dru was the one who saw those first and picked him because of those. like... it's wild to see people act like they spent a loveless century together and spike was just used the whole time when we SEE them literally in love, he states MULTIPLE times she means so much to him and we get an OUTSIDE SOURCE CONFIRM THEY HAVE "AFFECTION AND JEALOUSY FOR EACH OTHER". we have the spike we know of today because drusilla saw the hero in him and wanted him to rescue her. and ya know, he kinda did. multiple times. over a century of deep, mutual horrifying love. you only even GET spike and buffy in the same ROOM because he loved dru so much he saved her from a mob, traveled with her across a continent (maybe 2 depending on direction) and over an ocean for even a SHOT at a cure. like... cMON.

this got a little off topic into some of my pet peeves but also kinda not because just-- i don't think people always remember that dru is still a victim and a victim who was intentionally frozen the moment of maximum despair and internal destruction. then spent about 20 years being groomed by her tormentor before she ever had anyone care about her as a priority. i think people tend to forget that it was angelus who wanted to turn spike into a monster and drusilla who wanted him to be a hero. it's dru who gives him his swagger, his confidence, his love for life, who encouraged his romanticism and adored his poetics. it's not that she groomed or built him, but just that she saw all that potential already in there and facilitated it and nurtured it. sure in a fucked up vampire way but still.

[unpretty]

Rare non-kink-taxonomy-hell ask: your description of Sorrowverse Joker as actually good at manipulation and gaslighting, to the point where the act he puts on might sometimes resemble Therapy Joker, has actually made me interested in a version of the Joker. Which has never happened before. Could we hear more about him/this aspect of him? Love your writing btw

what if we had a rare limited-time crossover event

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 🤡:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

"Helloooooo nurse."

"Don't whistle," she snapped, shutting the door. "I'm doing you a favor," she reminded him.

"I thought you were recognizing that denying me cosmetics had no purpose but to dehumanize me," he said.

"You know what I mean," she said, pushing her glasses higher on her nose. "And I'm not a nurse." She pulled the sparkly pencil case she'd brought from the pocket of her coat to offer it to him.

He did not so much rise from his bed as unfold. A spider of a man, all long spindly limbs in ill-fitting pale pink. With all the green of the rest of him, it made him look floral, a mop of green hair and his eyes pastel. Even the white of his skin had a green tinge on closer inspection. She'd been sure it reminded her of something and had spent hours online trying to find it. She'd decided on a small emerald moth, staring at stock photos of delicate wings almost translucent and trying to remember where she ever could have seen one.

Charming as a bouquet full of insects.

He plucked the bag from her hand and pulled what looked like a butterfly knife from inside. He grinned, and when he did his face seemed to grow twice as long and half of it teeth. Gleaming purple metal spun between long fingers, but when he pointed it at her to watch her recoil, it had the teeth of a comb. He waggled his eyebrows at her before running it through his hair, using both hands and raising his elbows much higher than necessary so his shirt rode up. She pressed her lips together rather than dignify the performance with a response.

His eyebrows were still pristine and had been since he'd been admitted. Precise arches with edges razor-sharp.

Without products to keep it in place, his hair fell back down at an angle from his widow's peak. "Don't pretend I'm not funny, Dr. Quinn," he said, metal twirling between his fingers again.

"Quinzel," she corrected.

"Nurse Harlequin," he said, rummaging through the limited personal effects she'd brought him. It was absurd to refuse anyone these few small comforts. She'd always thought so. It was punitive, the way they denied any dignity to anyone they were meant to be treating.

There but for the grace of God, she thought and tried not to.

"I don't have a mirror," he declared, holding a red vial she was sure could not be blood. He reached out to touch beneath her chin. "Hold still."

"Mr. J," she warned, refusing as she always did to refer to him by the only name they had for him.

"I love it when you call me that," he said with relish, using her glasses as a mirror to apply tint to his lips with a wand. "Say it again, doll."

"If they catch you wearing lipstick—"

"It's stain," he said dismissively. "They can't prove it. For all they know I got this the old-fashioned way, sucking dick in the bathroom again."

"Agai—"

"Excellent work, Harley," he said, and then his lips were on hers. She made a muffled sound of indignation and was careful not to move. He'd done this before, the first time they'd met, when he'd learned her name and had a good laugh about it. She'd slapped him for it then, hadn't protested when they'd put him in isolation for it. "Aw," he said as he pulled away, touching her lower lip. "I know it hadn't dried yet, but it doesn't show on you, does it?"

It was only stain, but his skin was so pale the red popped, his grin grotesque. A caricature of something unwholesome, white as a sheet and a mouth like a minstrel, too dark a thought to trust. It was hard not to think the worst of people, ascribe symbolism to nothing at all, fall into spirals. Enough real dog whistles without her inventing new ones.

"That's unacceptable behavior," she said, "and that's not my name."

"You don't call me by my name," he said, tapping the tip of her nose, "and I don't call you by yours." He dropped the pencil case back into her hands before she realized what he was doing, and she had to scramble to catch it in time. "Besides, you seem like a good ride." He made an exaggerated handlebar-revving gesture with both hands and winked as he stepped away from her. Something Fred Astaire in his footwork when he walked. She was careful to stay where she was, tucking the contraband back into her pocket.

"Do you harass all your doctors this way?" she asked pointedly, fixing her glasses again.

"Aggressively," he confirmed as he fell back into his bed. "The rest of them don't like it as much as you do, naughty girl." He sprawled sideways, propping his head up in a pose that might have been provocative if he'd had a curve anywhere but the jutting bones that slotted his hands into his forearms. "It's why they locked me up for being a deviant," he said with a limp-wristed gesture.

"They locked you up for killing people," she corrected.

"They were rich," he scoffed. "That doesn't count as people." Her nose crinkled, pressing her lips together again rather than do anything he'd interpret as a laugh. "You can tell because they didn't send me to prison."

"They didn't send you to prison because Gotham's justice system is fucked," she said. Arkham was privately owned with a budget inflated by charitable donations. It was inevitable that expensive-looking criminals were judged criminally insane, the worst of their excesses no longer a taxpayer problem.

He cocked his head. "Do I look sane to you?" he asked.

"Sane doesn't look like anything," she said. "We both know you knew what you were doing, and there's no medical intervention that would make you behave differently."

He grinned, too wide, too many teeth. She tilted her head a little, only enough to see around the edge of her glasses and confirm that his mouth blurred. "Yet here you are," he said.

"Rehabilitation isn't the exclusive domain of the medically impaired."

This job had been a nightmare from the beginning. Every day in large and small ways it wore her down, an endless river of bullshit trying to smooth down every part of her that believed in anything. No accountability, barely treatment, shifts too long with coworkers as sick as the patients. Less like doctors with patients and more like researchers with lab rats. Rubber stamps and no rocked boats and no goals greater than the status quo. Cameras easily bypassed by any employee who cared to, for whatever reason struck their whim. Her no better.

She should have done more. Her job shouldn't have been worth more than her principles. She could have done more than this, makeup and candy and burner phones in her pockets. She kept notes and told herself she'd blow the whistle someday. She kept her head down and kept her health insurance and knew herself for a traitor.

"Come closer," he said, gesturing with his fingers.

She was halfway across the room before she thought to stop and ask, "Why?"

He was grinning again. "Because I wanted to see if you would," he said, and at the look on her face he threw his head back to cackle. She pressed her nails into her palms and felt her face burn. "This might sound racist," he began.

"Then don't," she warned.

"No, no, it's not like that, I just—"

"Don't."

"I can't tell if you're blushing!" he said, exasperated. He swung his legs around to sit upright, his knees a mile apart. "That's all I was going to say, honestly. Is that bad? You can tell me if it's bad."

"I would call that an 'inside thought'," she said, still blushing. He cackled again.

"Really, though," he said, crooking his fingers again, "you should come over here."

"Why?" she asked first this time.

"So I can kiss you stupid," he said.

Her face felt hot again. "I'm not doing that."

He rolled his eyes so dramatically it took his whole face with it. "I have to come over there?" he asked rhetorically, gesturing at her. "Come on, now, doll. Give yourself a little agency, here. I'm locked up. You get to leave. That little love tap earlier was fine, there were cameras on, I get it, kind of hot if I'm honest, pretty into that. But I've got limits too, you know. You want me to play the big bad taking advantage, that's fine, I'm into it, but trust's a two-way street. Get over here and make it clear you know what you're here for, yeah? Despite what your bosses think, I'm not actually an animal. I'm not sitting here waiting for pretty girls to maim."

"I don't think that," she said, defensive.

"Naw," he said, "you're just coming in here when you're not supposed to be and standing in grabbing range, waiting for nothing to happen. Get over here or leave, I'm not going anywhere."

She half-turned, looking at the doorknob, but hesitated. She wanted the last word, but didn't have one ready and her throat was dry regardless. She felt sick.

"You're real scared I'm gonna laugh at you, huh?" he asked, and she whipped her head around to stare at him. He was leaning forward, chin on his fist, watching her. The pale shade of his eyes made it more predatory than it otherwise would have been. His smile was a wry gash across his face. "That happen a lot?" he asked, cocking his head. "Men telling you you're pretty as a prank, asking you out to make fun when you believed it?" She scowled, and his smile split into a grin. "Awww. Poor l'il Harley. C'mere, then. You wanna make a show of being vulnerable, be vulnerable. Least you can do, don't you think?"

The worst part was realizing, the moment he said it, that it was the thing she most dreaded. That he'd laugh at her for believing him.

She came close enough to stand between his knees, but couldn't bring herself to make eye contact. She looked at the hole in his ear where they hadn't let him keep his earrings, instead.

"There's a doll," he said, grabbing her wrist and yanking so she'd fall into his lap. She narrowly avoided her knee hitting him somewhere awkward. She was distracted by how bony his thighs felt compared to hers, all his limbs too thin as his arms went around her waist. He kissed beneath her ear, and she thought of his mouth, the wide span of it and all those teeth at her throat. "Doesn't being honest with yourself feel better?" he asked against her skin.

"This is very, very bad," she breathed, her voice shaking. Her own body heat was mortifying. He felt halfway to a corpse.

"Awww, don't be like that," he said, and she could feel him smiling. All those teeth. "What's the worst that could happen?"

[ralefaelle]

POV you and your bff did something dumb

[teansouprmyjam]

a sketch of 2 beloved silly guys,,,,,,

[crystalizedbutterflywings]

basically a part 2 to this post - now they get to have a sleepover in the tunnels!

[keferon]

On my way of tracing every tiniest appearance of Senator Shockwave👍

Which…there wasn’t a lot. But there was more than I remembered and expected

[chrisrainicorn]

1 glmms

[thesummerestsolstice]

Silmarillion AU Where all the Elves are Hobbits and the Stakes are Significantly Lower:

Finwe is mayor of his part of the Shire, happily married to both Miriel and Indis because they all have two hands

Miriel doesn't die after childbirth she just goes off on a trip to find new artistic inspiration and doesn't come back

Don't worry she eventually shows back up again– turns out she got lost and a kind elvish warrior named Vaire helped her find her way back

Feanor has a good relationship with his siblings, although he and Nolofinwe have engaged in several bouts of passive-aggressive one-upsmanship

The most famous of these ended with Nolofinwe swimming several miles across a lake in winter to prove that he was the more dedicated brother. Feanor agreed after telling him off for being reckless.

The Silmarils aren't pseudo-holy gemstones here, they're a set of three really intricately carved pipe-weed pipes that the Finweans pull out on ceremonial occasions

Morgoth isn't a fallen god he's just an asshole elf who regularly breaks into the Shire to steal things

One day he steals the Silmarils; he doesn't kill Finwe though he just knocks him out

The rest of the First Age is mostly just increasingly convoluted plots by various Finweans to break into his fortress and steal back the pipes (and all the other stuff Morgoth has stolen)

The first of these attempts involves Feanor stealing one (1) boat from Mayor Olwe. No one dies though and he puts it back afterwards. It still results in a lot of petty gossip.

After one of the attempts Morgoth catches Maedhros and hangs him up in a really tall tree

He's stuck there for three weeks before Findekano finds him and gets him down with the help of a homemade hang-glider called "Thorondor"

One of the other hobbit mayors is Thingol, a dear friend (and possible ex boyfriend?) of Finwe

Most of the Ainur are elves here but the concept of hobbit Thingol marrying an eldritch goddess is too funny to pass up so Melian is still a Maia here

She and her descendants look pretty hobbit-ish but they have fairy wings and little antennae

It causes a huge scandal when their daughter, Luthien, runs off with a dwarf prince named Beren

Thingol even writes a very strongly worded letter telling her not to marry him, which is a very extreme measure by hobbit standards, but she doesn't listen

Eventually Beren decides to steal some hobbit stuff back from Morgoth to prove his worthiness

He ends up stealing back one of the pipes and giving it to Thingol

Thingol grudgingly accepts him and Bluthien settle into a nice, quiet life in the Shire

There's no Doriath kinslaying either there's just a long, very passive-aggressive series of letters between Thingol and Feanor until Finwe eventually steps in and Thingol returns the pipe