#Bat Hunter

[bathunterofdevon]

URGENT - PLEASE READ: PSA for everyone who has me added on Discord. My Discord Account (BatHunterofDevon) has been compromised. I was contacted by someone telling me that my account had been falsely reported for 'spam'. They told me to add another user by the name of validationhanaford. Thinking not much of it, I did so. However, this user gave me a series of complicated and suspicious instructions which he assured me would help validate my account. But then, I got suspicious when it became clear that he was NOT who he said he was. His English was third-rate despite the fact that he claimed to be an American. That was the first red flag. Next, he asked me to make an online transfer of $300 on Paypal, which he assured me would be refunded to me within 5-10 minutes. That was the second red flag. He assured me that this would help validate and retrieve my account, and being completely oblivious to this new kind of scam, I followed along. I had never encountered this kind of scam before and honestly thought he was really who he said he was, but just a really clumsy typer. However, when realising that the Paypal email address was to receive money in Rupees and not dollars, that was the final straw. I blocked him and changed my bank details. But discovered that I no longer have access to my main account. BEWARE. IF I HAVE CONTACTED YOU TELLING YOU THAT I HAVE FALSELY FLAGGED/REPORTED YOU FOR SPAM, AND I REFER YOU TO CONTACT SOMEONE, IGNORE AND BLOCK. MY ACCOUNT HAS BEEN COMPROMISED. PLEASE BLOCK AND REPORT MY ACCOUNT TO DISCORD'S MODERATION STAFF. Thanks, and sorry. - BatHunterofDevonShow less

[rockymountainqueen2]

From this -

This post is mostly for those who don't want to have to click on the link in order to read the entirety of The Owl House's series bible.

[2000s-angell]

Cc: to the owner

[turquoisespace35]

Joen's palisman (2/2)

Previous

[maurofonseca]

here's all the classic sonic stuff I've been doing in the past few months, with text explaining where each character is taken from

[luzity]

come meet my palisman... her name is stringbean!

[zetrystan]

"Oï! Do ya need a mercenary blööd hunter? Aÿ am a glörious warrior! Bwëhëhëhëhë."

(Sir Vladimir, small bat, talking to some random person in a tavern) ___ Based on this post!:

[bet-on-me-13]

Bruce Wayne beats the shit out of a Vampire!!! Not Clickbait!!!

SO, after Danny is adopted by the Batfam and they accept his Halfa Status, he gives them all their own special Fenton Deflector Badges that will prevent them from being overshadowed and lets them touch ghosts even while intangible

Of course Vlad finds out that his little Badger got adopted by an entirely separate Billionaire and wants to get revenge.

So one day, while Bruce is walking down the street, Vlad tries to overshadow him. He is hoping that he will be able to destroy Bruce’s public reputation and then sell himself Wayne Enterprises, making himself the richest man in the world and making Danny run to him instead.

What actually happens in that Vlad collides face first with Bruce’s back and is knocked to the ground. Bruce turns around, recognizes Vlad, and starts beating the everloving crap out of him.

And across the street, some people are recording it. It looks like a Looney Toons Sequence, with Bruce and Vlad fighting with a bench concealing their view, Vlad and Bruce appearing above a bench, with Vlad holding bruce in a chokehold before Bruce kicks him in the *redacted* and they both fall out of view again,  Vlad trying to crawl away before Bruce drags him back behind the bench, Bruce standing up just in view above the bench, and then proceeding to deliver an Elbow Drop. Basically every comedic fight element you can think of.

The Video gets posted to Youtube and goes Viral within the day.

Danny has a GIF of Vlad trying to crawl away and getting dragged back as his Screensaver. The GIF if him getting kicked in the *redacted* is his Background.

[ew-selfish-art]

DPxDC AU: Ellie was going to beat the shit out of this space cop if he was lying…she might just do it anyway but, like, fr she’ll throw down on Danny’s behalf.

Enter scene following a bad tandem clone + identity reveal where in Danny is captured and wounded, Ellie escaping just narrowly. She manages to get Sam and Tucker on her side and together the three of them save Danny. (Where was Jazz? Why couldn’t she find Jazz?)

Ellie has traveled all over the world, has seen its hospitality just as much as its hostility- besides Danny liked space right? Mostly, Ellie is panicking and, being unable to think of a place to take Danny while he’s bleeding out on her, she just goes… up. Out of the atmosphere and just beyond the satellites. It finally feels far enough away, tho she didn’t take them beyond the moon, she has limits to her paranoia thank you.

Imagine to her annoyance that apparently someone actually watches for biological materials leaving and re-entering the earth! Total Bullshit! She’s needed to make a number of trips back and forth to get Danny food and water and medical supplies- and she’s doing a damn good job of getting him stable. Too bad she hadn’t realized the ring guy following her sooner.

Turns out he’s “made a report” and “will find them justice” and “wants to help”. Yeah right. She throws down with him as best she can, and he clearly doesn’t want to hurt her so he keeps letting her get away with Danny in tow. Danny is sleeping through most of this but a few times he lets out a woop or a go get ‘em.

Eventually Hal calls the only person on the team with a single paternal bone in his body (even if it was only a single one most days). Pulling Batman into a spacesuit, into a ship and across the atmosphere shouldn’t have been that easy- though it was obvious how his agreement came immediately after Hal mentioned the wounded and entirely isolated twins he’d found.

[rileyclaw]

new TOH animatic on my channel!

[justarandomart]

woooh! I did it! thanks to everyone who suggested characters :)

[thatcutenerdygirl]

I'm glad Damion can still act like a weird middle school boy

(This series was actually so good and sad though)

[nelkcats]

The "Rookie"

Danny became a ghost hunter when he got out of Amity. It started out as a big joke, he accidentally said that he "captured" himself to the local vigilantes (as an excuse, he didn't wanted them asking where he had seen his ghost form), and the Bats frowned before accepting it. They welcomed the help of an expert, albeit grudgingly.

He really thought it would stay that way and everyone will follow their lifes as normal, like a fool.

He thought it was a one time thing but the bats kept showing up at the wrong time and he kept acting like he capture the "old ghost", again (Red Robin told him they appreciated his service after his last fake battle); on one occasion they even tried to get him a mentor!

Danny would appreciate a reason to stop pretending to hunt himself down, it was getting ridiculous. He had to fake a "rivalry" and it was getting more awkward every day.

For his part, Tim was worried about the inexperienced ghost hunter that kept fighting with a rogue ghost (that keep escaping, maybe the ghost was too powerful?), he wondered if he should call Constantine to help the boy.

[turquoisespace35]

Joen's palisman (1/2)

Second part

[2000s-angell]

Cc: to the owner

[rayveneyed]

cw: sexually explicit content / blood / relatively light sadomasochism / age + experience gap (reader is older + more experienced) / sub!choso / vampires 🧛‍♀️ / sex and violence as two sides of the same coin /

choso kamo is 160 years old when he meets you.

in those years of walking the earth, undead, he believes he’s embraced his vampirism as much as he possibly can. the broiling self-hatred he had once found solace in has reduced to a simmer, strongest in those moments of blood and guts and weakening heartbeats; and although he often avoids crowds, and companionship, and light, he no longer believes himself to be a slave of his own nature.

to be true — in the grand scheme of immortality, of vampirism — he isn’t anywhere close to the level of control he’d wish to have. often, when indulging yuji’s desire to enjoy the world as he did before his death — boardwalks and arcades and cotton candy — he feels his canines aching in his gums, stretching until they dimple against his bottom lip.

it’s not comfortable. it’s not confident. but even despite the growing aches, he’s no longer cowering in alleyways; no longer drinking from poor stray cats and garbage-chewing rats to momentarily satiate that ever-growing, gnawing hunger. he has some sense of control—

“oh, you baby-bats. so adorable.”

control which he now flounders to grab.

a sharp, inky black nail scrapes up the column of his neck — he can’t help but arch into it, head tilting back until his wide, pupil-blown eyes find the ceiling, with its intricate coving and obsidian chandeliers. the music from the main hall is nothing but a buzzing in the back of his head; thoughts of his friends’ whereabouts, an afterthought. your fingernail crowds the underneath of his jaw and stops at where his pulse point would have thrummed, would he have been alive.

you’re a demon. a devil. a she-beast. a succubus. any horrid, terrible name he could call you, he will — dressed in blacks and burgundies and gold older than him, your lips painted an ox-blood red and your eyes as sharp and dark as any polished knife. in your hands he is small. weak. mortal.

“satoru usually keeps his strays away, after last time,” you say, pouting now, though it’s a crude approximation of sadness — even now, your eyes glint with devilment. “so mean, when he knows i have a weak spot for bats like you.”

that wretched finger stretches up; pokes at his bottom lip, scrapes against the fangs that had — embarrassingly — extended from his gums at the simple weight of you on top of him.

“look at that,” you coo, and your grin is something unsettling, something that curdles in the pit of his stomach and heats between his legs. “excited, pup?”

his answering breath comes ragged, and it’s always more embarrassing than it was when he was human. his heart doesn’t work, his lungs do not work, and he has no need to breathe — in fact, he lost the reflex to do so around 92 years ago — but his brain is scrambled, it seems, wilted neurons confusing signals from almost two centuries ago. “i’m — ahem — i’m okay, duchess.”

“how sweet. you don’t have to call me by my title, you know. my name will do just fine.” at his silence, you push yourself up from where you’d been laying low against his chest — looking far too excited when you say: “unless, of course, you like it.”

his hands tremble at his side. he can’t remember the last time he’s indulged in — in debauchery. the last time someone’s made him feel like they’re holding his heart in their hands. over the past hundred-odd years, he’s avoided it like the plague, and for good reason — most vampires aren’t known for their commitment, let’s just say. and now you’re on top of him looking like every sin he’s tried to avoid, and he’s straining so hard in his pants he fears he’ll cum before you even hint at removing a single article of clothing.

you press yourself flush again, nosing at his neck. he knows, for the first time in his long life, what it feels like to be prey. is this what his victims had felt when he ripped into their throats, young and inexperienced and bloodthirsty? did their vulnerability sit like a stone in their throats?

a groan comes from you, suddenly, and your tongue darts out to lave against his skin. choso’s answering moan is more of a whimper, broken and weak in his mouth, but you don’t seem to notice — or care. he flexes his glutes in an effort to stop himself from rutting up against you — not only would it be embarrassing, desperate, but it would be rude. this is your house, after all. your soirée. your gilded halls and bedazzled walls. your silk sheets against his back. your satin skirt bunched around your waist.

“tell me, pup,” you say, and he fights the instinctual reflex to shiver at the brush of your lips against his skin, “have you ever fed from our own?”

“hm?” it’s a sound of confusion brought half on by his simple lack of knowledge, and half on by his slow-processing brain. only seconds after does he fully register your question, and the eyes he hadn’t realised he had screwed shut flew open. “no. i — i didn’t know that was possible.”

all at once, you’re sitting up again — swinging your leg over his hips until you’re standing. it wouldn’t be right to call it clambering — you are impossibly graceful, even passed the agility and elegance that comes with the gift of the undead. his hands reach for you before he can stop them, a sound like a question on his tongue, and you send him the sweetest, most tooth-rotting, stomach-turning smile. he thinks he likes your biting, cruel grins more, though you’re lovely regardless.

you begin to reach for the ties of your corset at your spine — just another thing that makes his mouth water. people didn’t wear these sorts of clothes anymore, not in the human world. but he remembers the skirts and corsets from paintings of noblewomen hundreds of years ago, and how he’d admire the curve of their waists, the swell of their chests—

“of course, satoru wouldn’t tell you. why would he?”

his eyes snap up from your chest, caught with his hand in the cookie jar. but you don’t seem to mind. the corset is removed painfully slowly, for no other reason than to torture him; then, the outer dress, with its carmine satin and intricate embroidery. you throw it to the floor carelessly, as if the most knowledgeable museum curators wouldn’t prostrate themselves at your feet for the simple chance to display it for millions to see — a while his eyes drink up the sight of more skin, the whisper of form beneath your underdress and bloomers, you near him once more.

metal to a magnet, a moth to flame, he pulls himself to the edge of the bed. you find a place between his legs and grasp his chin, and choso can’t look away from you.

“i can take you apart and put you back together,” you say — promise — voice like crushed velvet, quiet and creeping like a choking vine. your thumb smooths over his cheek and ends at its apple, where you press the sharp tip of your nail into his flesh. “i can show you the pleasures of your eternal life, and its pains, and everything in between. i can bring you to every edge, and draw you back from them just as quick — and it will be painful, and you’ll enjoy it so much you won’t be able to go another day without it.”

he’s lost the ability to speak. his unmoving heart is in his throat — or in your hands, or between your sharp teeth. you tilt your head and regard him with knowing, twinkling eyes.

“all you have to say, pup, is yes.”

oh, it’s out of him so quick he can hardly keep up — a word so breathy you’d swear you’d already had your way with him. but embarrassment is a thing of the past when your smile stretches, and you murmur marvellous. you release him from your grasp, much to his chagrin, but when you begin pulling down your bloomers his attention shifts.

he can smell you. smell you. the musky, salty scent of between your legs — a smell that has his mouth watering and his fingers cramping from how hard he fists the sheets. your bloomers are damp when you discard them, sticky with your arousal, and pride glows in choso’s chest. he didn’t do much, but it seemed enough — if he had only let himself lose control, hump up against you harder, perhaps it would’ve stained his clothes; seeped through your layers and onto his lap. he’d go home and hold it over his nose until the scent faded, and perhaps after.

“new as you are,” you say, climbing onto your bed once more and reclining back against the numerous pillows — huffing a mean-sounding laugh when he crawls after you. “i’ll do you the mercy of taking it easy, just this once. oh, don’t make that face — you look like a kicked puppy. i promise you’ll enjoy what i have in store for you.”

and you hike up your underdress, and spread your legs. choso’s mouth waters — the thick smattering of hair on your mons, your flower-like labia, shiny with your arousal. and your clit, peeking out from its hood, pink and shiny and begging to have his mouth on it. but as if this wasn’t enough — as if he wasn’t already scrabbling to get between your legs — you take one of those long, sharp nails, and drag it against your inner thigh. the skin splits. blood trickles down from the wound like a river of gold, flowing into the crease between your thighs and your pussy, and it smells ambrosial. if his fangs were aching before, they’re screaming, now. this isn’t human blood; this is richer, sweeter, creamier. delectable. hedonistic. you’ll make a glutton of him.

“after all,” you say, grinning wickedly, “i’m treating you to a most delectable meal.”