#crimson comedian

[kidneyyummer]

2020 alt fashion Deadpool

[moonknightly]

hold me in the moonlight

moon boys x reader

warnings: short lil smut scene, everyone is wine drunk and in love, a little angst with marc but he’s just a cuddly lil baby

word count: 1.6k, she short 

There’s an empty bottle of wine on the counter and two glasses on the coffee table, one with a lipstick stain painted on the side in crimson and the other still half full. You’re sitting on the couch and Steven has his arm wrapped around your shoulders, his chest rising and falling and causing your head to move with it. You’re curled up into his side, giggling while you watch some stupid Netflix special from a comedian you hadn’t heard of until you turned it on and he’s too busy playing with your hair to laugh at the jokes.

Getting drunk with Steven is always soft, always sweet. It’s sloppy forehead kisses and wandering hands touching everywhere and voices hardly above a whisper. It’s dancing around the living room until your feet start to hurt and tickle fights in bed that lead into silly sex and those nights can be some of your favorites.

Any night with any of your boys is your favorite.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you giggle from your spot next to him, no longer paying attention to the TV, your sole focus on him just as his is on you.

He tilts his head to the side and shrugs his shoulders, eyes flickering between your face and his fingers for a moment or two before he speaks. “Just admiring you. You look pretty like this.”

“Like what?” you ask softly, stretching your legs out to the side, arms above your head.

Steven giggles. “You look like a lil kitten, y’know? Big stretch.” He copies your movements, stretching himself before he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his lap.

“You’re so fucking cute.”

You’re both so giggly, both so drunk and in love and Steven reaches for his partial glass, downing the rest. He licks his lips, catching a drop that threatens to splash onto his shirt.

“Says you, cariño.”

That’s the thing about getting drunk with the boys—switches happen more frequently, more fluently. You could be messing with Steven one moment and then be pinned under Jake the next, like you are now.

Getting drunk with Jake is intense. It’s passionate kisses and still wandering hands but his grip is firm, almost harsh in a way but it feels protective and safe. It’s fucking over the kitchen counter, the desk, against the fish tank, it’s being held all night long with his fingers tangled in your hair and his lips on the back of your neck as you fall asleep.

“Hi,” you hum from underneath him, readjusting yourself to better fit your hips between his legs.

Jake dips his head, nuzzling his large nose against yours, his grip on your wrists as he pins them by your head tight. “Hi.”

His lips are on yours immediately, kissing you and kissing you and kissing you, taking your breath away until your lungs start to burn and you pull away gasping, He kisses across your jawline, down your neck, leaving a small lil bruise against your collarbone before letting your shirt snap back into place.

You’re already arching your back upwards, trying to stay close to him. He’s already daydreaming about taking your clothes off.

So you let him. He throws your shirt off to the side and tugs your leggings and your panties down, letting them bunch into a pile at the end of the couch. He rids himself of his own clothes quickly before he settles back between your legs.

And then he’s pushing into you in one swift motion, burying his cock deep inside of you, right where he belongs. He holds still for a long moment, letting you both adjust to the feeling of each other before he starts thrusting his hips, finding a slow yet deliberate pace against you.

“Tan bueno, so fucking good for me cariño. So good.”

His breath is hot and heavy in your ear with the sound of his moans, his gasps and his panting and cursing. His hands roam from your wrists down your arms and sides until he finds your hips, holding you down against the couch, using them for leverage to better fuck into you. Even drunk, he knows exactly what he’s doing, he’s giving you exactly what you need. He makes you cum on his cock twice, maybe three times—you’re not sure, the pleasure bleeds into each other and twists around your bones until you don’t think you can remember your own name.

And after he finds his own end, still buried so so deep inside of you, it’s Marc that takes over.

Getting drunk with Marc is so many things. It can be quiet in moments like this, when he’s just wanting to lay back and take care of you, or it can be blaringly loud and angry when he’s drinking to forget.

It’s never directed at you though. Never at you, never because of you.

It can be soft touches and warm baths after sex or it can be bloody knuckles and bar fights, antiseptic and bandages. It can be slow and sweet or quick and dirty. Light or darkness.

But you love it either way. You love him completely, both for his light as well as the darkness that threatens to consume him some days.

Marc pulls out of you and carries you to the bathroom, setting you on top of the sink so he can clean you up. He stays quiet, a lil observant, probably trying to gauge whether or not you need Steven or Jake more than you need him.

He’s still so unsure of himself. Unsure whether or not he deserves you, your kindness, your softness. You tell him time and time again that he is, as many times as he needs you to.

So you tell him again, remind him that you need him too.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck, playing with the hair at the back of his head.

“‘Course,” he mumbles, throwing the washcloth into the laundry bin once he’s done using it. “Sorry I always bump them out of the way.”

“You know you don’t need to apologize for that,” you remind him again, kissing the little spot between his brows.

He shrugs, smoothing his hands up and down your thighs, watching them glide over your skin. “I just like taking care of you. I know they do too but…”

“You like having this moment together.”

He shrugs again. “Yeah? I don’t know, is that weird?”

“No, not weird,” you hum, gently grabbing his wrists, flipping his hands over so you can kiss each of his palms. “You just like taking care of me and that’s okay.”

He nods this time, agreeing, but you can tell he wants to say more. You let the silence drape over you, simply waiting, not wanting to rush him or take away his chance to speak.

“It just makes me feel like I’m doing something good for you.”

Your heart breaks a little at that.

“Marc, you're always good for me, even when you think you’re being bad.”

“Am I though?” he asks gently, closing his eyes, letting his forehead rest against the hollow of your throat as he tucks his head under your chin. “I can get ugly when I’m drunk and-”

“And when you’re scared, which I think is a completely acceptable reaction to fear. You know this.”

He just shrugs again, sighing this time. He doesn’t like to admit that he drinks because he’s scared.

Scared of his past, the memories that decide to randomly come rushing back to him, scared that he’s going to fuck everything up and lose the one thing that matters to him—you. He’s terrified he’s going to lose you.

“And besides,” you say, trying to pull him out of his head, bring him back with you. “I like having this moment with you too.”

He smiles at that, you can feel it against your throat. He pulls back and sighs, hooking his arm under your legs so he can carry you back to bed.

“Of course Steven would get drunk on wine,” he sighs as he tosses you onto the mattress, turning so he can find some pajamas for the both of you. He grabs two pairs of his sweats and two sweatshirts, tossing you the comfier set.

“What’s wrong with that?” you laugh, reaching out for him, head still fuzzy and warm and you want him to dress you. He of course obliges.

“Nothing,” he says as he pulls your clothes onto your body, fighting to get your arms through their respective holes—he’s still feeling the alcohol, too. “Just makes me warm and snuggly.”

“Oh I definitely don’t think there’s a damn thing wrong with that,” you giggle, waiting for him to settle down in your arms.

He does, and just like he said he’s snuggly and warm as he drapes himself over your body, protective yet soft and gentle.

More switches happen throughout the night, each of your boys taking turns at different points—Steven wants in on some snuggles and so does Jake, and this time Marc kicks him from the front before he can get yours sweats off so he can have a turn. Steven comes back halfway through because he wants a taste, then Marc again. He’s who you fall asleep with, and who you wake up to.

He thinks the hangover is worth it, getting to spend the morning being showered by your love.

[thatliminal-wanderer]

Backrooms ID Pack

Names

Adam, Adym, Aguana, Aiden, Aiko, Alex, Alexia, Altair, Ambrosia, Amori, Andrew, Ant, Argos, Aries, Ashley, Aster, Avelon, Bartholomew, Belphegor, Berry, Bill, Blake, Blue, Bonx, Bram, Brock, Callum, Caspian, Castello, Chara, Cindy, Clement, Clementine, Colias, Corey, Corri, Crane, Creg, Crimson, Cyllene, Cypress, Daisy, Daze, Destiny, Doll, Dream, Dull, Dunk, Eden, Emily, Emme, Evangeline, Ezra, Ferren, Flannery, Frankie, Freeman, Fume, Gani, George, Gerald, Grey, Hen, Icarus, Jack, Janus, Jax, Jerry, Jess, Johnny, Kaii, Kain, Kami, Kane, Kat, Kimiko, King, Kitty, Koko, Kya, Leeon, Leo, Lilac, Limi, Llio, Lotka, Lucid, Malachi, March, Maria, Mason, Moley, Montie, Nightmare, Noir, Olive, Olivia, Ollie, Paisley, Pedro, Philia, Porter, Quinoa, Rae, Rasputin, Richard, River, Rook, Rosette, Rue, Ryan, Samantha, Sato, Saturn, Sienna, Sol, Terry, Theodore, Tom, Trance, Val, Vanta, Vee, Vesper, Vice, Violet, Will, Xavier, Xoa, Zero

Pronouns

!/!s, 0/0s, 1/1s, 2/2s, 3/3s, 4/4s, 5/5s, 6/6s, 7/7s, 8/8s, 9/9s, :(/:(s, :)/:)s, =(/=(s, =)/=)s, ?/?s, _/_s, almond/almonds, alone/alones, alpha/alphas, back/backs, bee/bees, bird/birds, black/blacks, blood/bloods, blue/blues, bone/bones, book/books, box/boxes, bug/bugs, buzz/buzzes, camp/camps, cave/caves, chalk/chalks, city/cities, clean/cleans, crimson/crimsons, crop/crops, danger/dangers, dark/darks, data/datas, dead/deads, decay/decays, desert/deserts, dirt/dirts, doll/dolls, door/doors, dream/dreams, echo/echos, end/ends, error/errors, eye/eyes, fate/fates, field/fields, fog/fogs, forest/forests, garden/gardens, glitch/glitchs, glow/glows, gold/golds, grime/grimes, hall/halls, haunt/haunts, hill/hills, hive/hives, home/homes, hot/hotel/hotels, house/houses, hub/hubs, ice/ices, icy/icys, jungle/jungles, lake/lakes, laser/lasers, level/levels, light/lights, love/loves, lucid/lucids, mall/malls, maze/mazes, mem/memory/memories, mirror/mirrors, moon/moons, moth/moths, mouth/mouths, musk/musks, neon/neons, noir/noirs, play/plays, pool/pools, rain/rains, rainbow/rainbows, red/reds, road/roads, room/rooms, rot/rots, run/runs, sand/sands, sea/seas, sewer/sewers, silent/silents, snack/snacks, space/spaces, sparkle/sparkles, spring/springs, tha/thalasso/thalassos, time/times, violet/violets, void/voids, wall/walls, warning/warnings, water/waters, wave/waves, well/wells, wheat/wheats, white/whites, yellow/yellows, •/•s, ∅/∅s, ⌛️/⌛️s, ☁️/☁️s, ⚠️/⚠️s, ⚰️/⚰️s, ⛓️/⛓️s, ⛓️‍💥/⛓️‍💥s, ✂️/✂️s, 🌀/🌀s, 🌈/🌈s, 🌓/🌓s, 🌗/🌗s, 🌪️/🌪️s, 🌫️/🌫️s, 🍄/🍄s, 🍄‍🟫/🍄‍🟫s, 🎞️/🎞️s, 🎟️/🎟️s, 🎤/🎤s, 🎥/🎥s, 🎪/🎪s, 🎭/🎭s, 🐁/🐁s, 🐇/🐇s, 🐌/🐌s, 🐛/🐛s, 🐜/🐜s, 🐥/🐥s, 👁️/👁️s, 📞/📞s, 📠/📠s, 📹/📹s, 📺/📺s, 📻/📻s, 📽️/📽️s, 🔑/🔑s, 🔗/🔗s, 🔮/🔮s, 🕊️/🕊️s, 🕯️/🕯️s, 🕰️/🕰️s, 🕳️/🕳️s, 🕷️/🕷️s, 🗝️/🗝️s, 🗺️/🗺️s, 😶‍🌫️/😶‍🌫️s, 🚪/🚪s, 🛎️/🛎️s, 🛠️/🛠️s, 🥀/🥀s, 🥣/🥣s, 🥩/🥩s, 🦂/🦂s, 🦜/🦜s, 🦟/🦟s, 🦠/🦠s, 🦴/🦴s, 🦷/🦷s, 🧠/🧠s, 🧫/🧫s, 🩸/🩸s, 🩹/🩹s, 🩻/🩻s, 🪐/🪐s, 🪜/🪜s, 🪞/🪞s, 🪟/🪟s, 🪦/🪦s, 🪰/🪰s, 🪱/🪱s, 🪳/🪳s, 🪶/🪶s, 🪹/🪹s, 🫀/🫀s, 🫁/🫁s, 🫗/🫗s, 🫥/🫥s

Titles

A Corrupted File, An Unapproachable (Beast/Entity/Unknown/Any Animal), Entity [number], Lucky (Beast/Entity/Any Animal), The (Bride/Husband/Spouse), The (Entity/Beast/Creature/Thing/God) of Level [number], The (King/Queen/Royal), The (Smiling/Frowning) One, The (Spokeslady/Spokesman/Spokesperson), The (Un)Lucky One, The Artist, The Behemoth, The Bellhopper, The Bone Thief, The Bronze Builder, The Catmaster, The Coder, The Comedian, The Concierge, The Crawlspace (Entity/Beast/Creature), The Endless Walls, The Entity, The Entity Which Doesn’t Exist, The Explorer, The First Entity, The Friend, The Game Master, The Headless (Hunter/Huntress/Entity/Beast/Creature), The Hermit, The Historian, The Homerunner, The Housekeeper, The Liminal Space, The Mail Carrier, The Maker, The Maze of Lost Ones, The Memory (Any Animal), The Memory Manager, The Mucked Smell, The Musician, The Neighborhood Watcher, The Numbed (Entity/Beast/Man/Woman/Person/Creature), The One Adorned In (Red/White/Black/Beige), The One Which Light Flicker For, The One Who Buzzes, The One Who Is Hiding in Level [number], The One Who Looks Too Familiar, The One Who Opened The Back Door to Reality, The One With No Data, The Party Host, The Puppeteer, The Scarecrow, The Scavenger, The Singer, The Smiling One, The Wanderer, [prn] That Lives Behind Reality, [prn] Who (Makes/Ruins) The Party, [prn] Who Can Not Be Explained, [prn] Who Endlessly Falls, [prn] Who Is Sick, [prn] Who Makes and Plays The Games, [prn] Who Resigns in Level [number], [prn] Who Wanders The Endless Levels

Genders

0beckəl, 1beckəl, 3beckəl, 4beckəl, 5beckəl, 6beckəl, 7beckəl, 8beckəl, 92levelic, 974kitic, 9beckəl, Backaneic, Backroomgender, Backroomic, Backroomsaesic, Backroomscattic, Backroomsdollic, Backroomsfluid, Backroomsflux, Backroomspinnic, Buzinbackroomic, Catbackroomic, Cliproomic, Deathmothgender, Eeriroomic, Endlessswimic, Entiromaric, Entity555gender, Entity666gender.exe, Entity99ic, Erokoric, Escapethebackroomsgameic, Flowliminpinkic, Hotelliminix, Kenolimighost, Lepidoipresence, Level!ix, Level0liminix, Level1liminix, Level336dia, Level370ix, Level389ic, Level7ix, Liminaldollic, Liminalmazeic, Liminalmushrooms, Liminalpoweric, Liminalsnowic, Liminalspacestalgic, Liminaquarpetic, Liminaquic, Limingender, Liminix, Liminlovecoric, Natatoliraifortic, Nostbackplushic, Panbackroomic, Parkgaraliminix, Partygoerscharic, Partykenous, Rubicunipresence, Sh4dygr3yl3v3l1c, Smilergender, Snowliminalic, Storeliminix, Unfatholiminal, Zeroaromic

Other mogai

Alderbackroentity, Alderitch, Alderliminal, Alderwhitevoid, Assigned Creature at Birth/ACreAB, Assigned Freak at Birth/AFrAB, Assigned Monster at Birth/AMonAB, Assigned Uncanny at Birth/AUnAB, Backroomsvesil, Darkwarmgreyvesil, Eldritch Omninoun, Eldritchvesil, Error Omninoun, Flesheatseaseque, Grey Omninoun, Hiliblayedernic, Kenovesi, Kittyhousehearthic, Mimicryvior, Nonhuvesil, Null Omninoun, Poolroomperspesque, Shard Omninoun, Sublimityhearthic, Terrorhotelhearthic, Thing Omninoun, Vesiliminal, ∅ Omninoun

[sherrylephotography]

Last night we went to Mystic Dining in historic Folsom California.

Mystic Dining is a plush, crimson-hued fine-dining eatery offering a multi-course dinner followed by a magic show. This was more intimate, we sat at a long dining table and Ryan was at the head of the table. Maybe 20 of us watched the show and participated. Afterwards you get to speak to the magician.

We had a wonderful five course meal. My sister had the prime rib and my husband and I had the vegetarian lasagna. The best part of the evening was the magician comedian Ryan Kane. ryan@ryankanemagic.com

He put on a wonderful show.

November 2023

[raphsmuneca]

Monster

This song is the reason I even decided to go for this!

Quick note: I have no idea where I'm going with this. I just wrote and it's all coming together as I go. Some of the stuff is inspired by ROTTMT, however, it is the bayverse boys! Aged @ 30+ ! Anything & everything may be found in this story. Folklore, supernatural, magic, tragedy, fantasy, and an added sparkle of romance?? Like I said, this baby can go anywhere. Don't be surprised if Dracula meets Snow White <-JK! but the possibilities are endless is what l'm saying! (A marvel OR DC character, however, may or may not make a brief appearance!) Undecided 🤷‍♀️

I haven't written much about my fav brother, aka the love of my fantasy world, Raphael. So this right here, NEEDED TO BE DONE! Enjoy part 1 of →

𝓜𝓞𝓝𝓢𝓣𝓔𝓡

✧༺♥༻✧ ✧༺♥༻✧ ✧༺♥༻✧ ✧༺♥༻✧

The event had been elongated. Dwellers of the city had grown old of tonight’s stage performer. Even the comedian ran out of rope to keep the crowd from latching onto the slippery rails. The customers were hanging from the brim of their final heavy pours before making their way out of the bar.

The hour hand called for the midnight fallen, condemned, broken, and torn...the tags went on. After midnight, New York was the highest prized painting shell by visceral artistes; beyond that of the innocent eyes.

That was their optic view....

Mine? A Rhino and it’s side servant had more leeway in this sunken sea of darkness. Only because it was paid off. In New York, even the most ferocious beast of all, like Satan perhaps, had to pay his inordinate nightly bill, to get a lick of this evil.

It was the Paris of seduction and temptation. A shelter for the sinful Gods that fed behind the wan light shadows. The black shapes that were draped beneath each pendant sign at each hallow, drugged, and drunken setting, hung loose.

Titled seminal’s were derivatives of ancient battles in the form of diplomacy in the world’s most modern city. The Big Apple. The dirtied soil of Eve’s bearings. The home of ancient spirits that possessed foreign bodies, aliens, vampires, shapeshifters, and all other yokai alike. But somehow, here, in the midst of these savages and the mysterious phenomena that hid in the shadows...

I was the one they called, “𝓜𝓸𝓷𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻.”

✧༺♥༻✧

Against my brother’s will, I reached the surface and began my endless hunt. New York was my garden and all of it’s flowers wept tears of blood, save for the one’s kept hidden.

I wished always for my brother Leo’s understanding. Reluctant, as always, to let me run off on my own, Leonardo would give me the whole spiel of the “Ninja Way.” Why couldn’t he, for just one damn minute, agree to disagree? He was like an overseer and, I, the caged beast.

But, this last argument from an hour ago, wouldn’t let me think. It was more than just not knowing of my whereabouts. I needed to proceed, but somehow, my brother always found a way to get into my thick skull.

Sure, I was stubborn, but I had a reason to be...

✧༺♥༻✧

“You can’t keep going up there without my consent, Raph! We need to stick together, always. You know better than any one of us why it’s mandatory to keep it this way.”

“Just say it, Leo. Say it! Stop prancing around the words and spill it!”

Leo didn’t want to say it. His face was crimson with resentment. He hated me. My brother hated me. Mike and Don hated me, too. They all hated me! Ever since that fucking night.

“Say it!”

But, Leo, fucking Leo...he couldn’t, better yet, wouldn’t speak the words, afraid to relive the moments of that traitorous night. Suddenly, the flashbacks came, like a carousel, going round and round in my head...

She lain there, with my sai thrust deep through her chest.

A mother cried over her daughter’s lifeless body. The woman wouldn’t dare remove the weapon, hoping that maybe, just maybe, it was holding onto the one last breadth that could bring her kid back. But it was too late. There was no wind in her lungs. The young lady had had wasted it, as she screamed for help. Her last strive...

“You don’t need another dead body on your head, Raphael!”

That was it. In the calling of my full name, I knew I had struck a nerve. The flames in his eyes didn’t betray his unspoken denouncement of my own free will. But, like always, his loathing of me repelled off of my sage scales and I, again, betrayed his leadership.

I ran out of there as fast as my feet would allow.

✧༺♥༻✧

And now, here I was, climbing from one scape to another, brushing past the scarlet doused vines of New York’s demon-filled vast. There was only one brush of color that flushed my eyes...Red. I couldn’t tell one soul from another.

I saw only the portrait of the masses of anthropomorphic creatures below me, and like a true hunter, I jumped through it, in search of tonight’s killer. Whoever it may be.

There was a secret passageway that kept beneath the ghostly, brick structures. Only mutants could access it, but not all creatures were allowed entrance. It had to be earned. A few tricksters had been banned, but luckily, I was on the Deviant Knight’s list, meaning it took more than a grave blunder to get rid of me.

It was Mikey who got us in. The boss’s future son-in-law felt betrayed by a deal gone left. The idiot decided it was a smart idea to use his betrothed as bait for reimbursement. The guy was a nut job. New York city’s portrayal of the infamous “Joker.” It was Mikey’s first kill.

All of us, brothers, had to carry the weight of his heavy heart for quite some time after that. But now, Mikey was a turtle of few words. Lesser than mine.

An older gentleman, wrapped in makeshift rags of clothing, stood beside a dumpster. He looked me up and down, threateningly. He growled and I grunted. The ancient fool pretended to not recognize me, as it was his duty. His false moniker was, Old Bicker. Anyone who asked me how he got that name, met my with my fist. The man was old and he bickered. How fucking difficult was that to understand?

“Warp me in, Old Bicker, will ya?”

“Hahahaaaaa!” Old Bicker heaved, then coughed. “Red Eagle, is that you?”

He inched toward me, looking me up and down again, like if he was searching for something. He always strikes me as odd, but he wasn’t just searching, this much I knew. He saw something, but he would never tell.

“I’m guessing you’re in the mood for a fight tonight? You know better than to call me that lame ass name, Old B.”

“Oh, you’re always whining, kid! In my time, kids didn’t….” True to his name, the old man kept up with his bandy words.

“Warp me in already, will ya!”

As ordered, Old Bicker, harrumphed, and removed the grimy cloak from his back, and in seconds, his appearance changed, completely. Glowing blue dust spiraled around his entire body. His wardrobe, now a fine blue velvet, matched his ancient tongue. He channeled his magic and spoke the wicked language that opened the portal to Hell’s Deviant Point’ inter-dimensional, subterranean realm.

“Now, was that too hard for ya, Old Wizard?”

Charlisse; the Wizard’s actual name, when in his true form; huffed and turned about.

“You know, young Master, that that is not my name. Hm!” The little fairy-like man spoke and dressed like he came straight from an old English folklore, except this wizard wore no cloak. Only a scruffy blanket when in his forged form.

The change in his tone was eloquent and held indignation. I was careful not to insult him any further in his current stage. Charlisse was a fine wizard, but according to the boss, even us mutant turtles had to tread carefully around the effervescent snipper-snapper.

“So, now you’re the one who’s telling? If you’re gonna keep calling me “Red Eagle” it’s only fair that I call you Old Wizard.”

“If that’s how you want to play it, young Master.” Charlisse’s lips curled upward.

“No, no, no! I wasn’t...!”

With a flick of his wrist, the little fucker whirled his wand, and fairy-god mothered my 700 pounds of mutant muscle ass into the portal like a rag doll.

“Toodle-oo, young Master!”

His wicked laughter rung through the helix spiral until I fell, face-flat, onto grounds of the majestic realm. I lifted my head and looked up at the nothingness. Only a single figure stood before it. The invisible gate. Only yokai could see it.

A thick and familiar voice greeted me. It was Silver Wing; a dragon-bird yokai, who secured the gates of this wondrous point. He was a high-ranking warrior, that for some unspoken reason, chose to guard Hell’s Deviant Point.

“I’m guessing you pissed off Charlisse…again, Red Eagle?” The dragon jested. He was familiarized with the old wizard’s habits, and mine.

“You gunnin’ for me, too?”

“No, no. Easy, Raph. Old habits die hard among us night walkers. You should know this.”

I dusted myself off and looked up at the floating dragon-bird. He was regal in every sense of the word. I eluded the question of his position in this place, out of courtesy. Silver Wing was no bouncy little wizard. He was a warrior through and through. Still, I wouldn’t mind going head to head with the guy to test his wings. You know, for fun.

“I assume you’re here to visit with the Boss Master?”

And with that, everything from the previous argument with my oldest brother, came flooding back. Charlisse’s spell! Damnit! I forgot about his mood changing spells!

“Motherfuker!”

“Ah. He did it again, I see. Old Bicker doesn’t transform without cause or reason. He must’ve sensed your anger. He can see it, and I can smell it. Which begs the question, Raphael, just how angry are we tonight?”

His royalty knew just how infuriated I was. He could sniff out feelings, unlike Old Bicker, rather Charlisse’s, which were innate, yet somehow, never failing. Compared to these fellas, my intuition was highly defective.

“Real angry, Silver. I’m itching for blood tonight.” The red returning to my eyes, cautioned the dragon to keep a short, but safe distance. The memories were slowly beginning to dance around me again. I had to keep busy. It was the only way to bury this anger. This pain...

“I see. Enter at your own risk, Raphael-san.”

The invisible gate appeared before me and opened. Although no human or mutant could see it without an invitation from a full bred yokai. I hadn't taken a step, and yet the purple skies slowly colored the vast emptiness, and all it’s inhabitants and their dwellings came into view.

“Thanks, Silver.”

It’s been a while since I’ve walked into this place. The air was very different here. It was the darker and more twisted version of my hometown. I moved forward, taking in my friend’s cautionary words as I walked deeper into the creepy empire.

“Be mindful, Raphael-San. In this place, you’re not the only monster.”

✧༺♥༻✧ ✧༺♥༻✧ ✧༺♥༻✧ ✧༺♥༻✧

@the-cauldron-witch @ninnosaurus @iridescentflamingo @ferox-imagines @sophiacloud28 @milykins @adebauchedsloth @justalotoffanfiction @thepinkpanther83 @inspiredwriter @replicasey @akari180 @iheartchv @leosgirl82 @moonlightflower21 @imthegreenfairy86 @happymoonangel @thelaundrybitch

Parts 2-3 will be uploaded soon!

*𝓲𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓭 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓭/𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓭 𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮 𝓵𝓶𝓴! *

𝓡𝓮𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓰𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓱𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓵𝔂 𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭!

[chaifootsteps]

[major spoilers for Netflix's Baby Reindeer]

so it's a show about a comedian Donny Dunn based autobiographically on the creator's experiences having been stalked and sexually harassed by a woman and in his past having been groomed and raped by a man

the show treats it with care and shows all the side effects of SA and rape - he questions the effect of his past assault on his sexuality, he ends up accepting the stalker's facebook invite and not reporting her for a while because despite how scared he is of her he feels validated by the attention, etc etc

my point here is if a show wants to talk about abuse, or about rape, it should actually do that. and if it wants to represent female on male abuse it should do that, too

but as it is, abuse or SA is just something that gets mentioned once in Helluva and then never again.

like, how have his experiences with Crimson shaped Moxxie? does he ever think about the murder of his mom? Crimson could come back in a future ep (probably) but is Moxxie at all concerned about that? idk, because the show doesn't bother giving characters a consistent emotional state except when it remembers to

same with Stolas and Stella. Fans leapt to claim Stella raped Stolas based on flimsy evidence, yet only cared if Stolas was slightly tipsy (and tied up) the first time he slept with Blitzo the moment they could use that information against Blitzo. and yet they're all for stol!tz despite how bad a person Blitzo supposedly is? We also see Blitzo and Stolas both have lousy dads but the effect of this on them is largely unknown. worse still, the show could have had a good lens on cycles of abuse by showing how Stolas was neglected and mistreated, but he still turned that treatment on someone with less power and made self-serving excuses for it, but nope. we can't have that

the closest the show has gotten to a realistic depiction of the effects of abuse is Blitzo himself. he's seemingly hypersexual in present day because of how his father made him feel like nothing by literally selling him off for an afternoon to a rich family and also because his trauma around the accident has left him with a deep seated fear of letting people in, in case he lets them down and them loses them. he behaves in contradictory ways that are frequently unheathly. he reads like someone who has compartmentalized the living daylights out of his poor treatment by Stolas because he maybe thinks he doesn't deserve better, and previously when he had someone better he self-sabotaged by stealing their car and maxxing out their credit cards so they would dump him

and how does the show treat him? victim blaming him for being sexually coerced by Stolas & being unable to give informed consent to Stolas' deal, then levelling every 'not a perfect victim!' excuse and 'not if he enjoyed it!' rationalizaion against him. it's honestly been morbid to watch the show do backbends to excuse Stolas and the fandom not only swallow it but say worse things about Blitzo on the regular

Morbid is an excellent word for it. I know that there's really no comparison, that Baby Reindeer is based on a true story (and basically one long therapy session for Gadd) and HB isn't, but if Baby Reindeer was about how how all of Donny's problems could be solved by marrying the man who abused him, you'd have HB.

[7sevenrings7]

Young and Menace - Chapter 1 Snippet

Hyperfixating on Hazbin Hotel? It's more likely than you think!

This is a snippet from "Young and Menace" - a reader insert fanfic pairing the reader (AFAB, she/her pronouns) with Alastor, Lucifer, and, eventually, Lilith.

Some at the same time? We'll see...full first chapter to be posted to ao3 next week.

You arrive in Hell with no memory of who you are, where you've come from, or how you got there. Oh well. Might as well settle into your afterlife. There's just one problem...

You're still alive.

Note: This x reader does NOT use Y/N - you are referred to as "Liv," but this is recognized as a nickname as you do not recall your actual name.

“Alright, my ace in the hole.” Rosie’s voice carried before becoming clear as she cast open the door. You shifted nervously as you sat on your bed. “Meet my other ace in the hole!”

Alastor was the worst demon you had seen yet. If your fear had been any less, you would have been able to scream.

As it was, you could only stare at him as if he were the personification of a train wreck you could not tear yourself away from.

It was his smile. A creepy, cheek-ridden smile. Yellowed teeth as large and as pointed as knives sat between lips spread what seemed painfully tight. His skin was darker than Rosie’s with eyes that were as red as blood and just as cold. He might have been Hell itself with how red dominated his person from his fluffy hair to his evening attire. What could have been ears framed two small antlers sprouting straight from his head. 

Later, much later in the quiet of the night still shaking from this very encounter, you would realize that his smile never wavered.

It did tremble, however - at least when he first saw you. The possibly-but-not-definitely-not-ears on his head went flat and you saw what seemed to be the shadow of radio dials turning instead of those red eyes. 

But then you blinked and Alastor’s smile was relaxed and warm…

...and growing larger as he approached you swinging a short-staffed microphone in his hand.

It, like the rest of him, was red.

“So…you’re alive.”

Rosie had implied Alastor had a unique voice. “Like butter!” she had claimed. Only it was far less sweet and far more static and sickening charm laid on thicker than thick. 

“I…seem to be,” you admitted, quietly. Almost reverently. 

Tilting his head at an angle too sharp to be normal, Alastor chuckled. “Maybe you were a comedian, my dear girl. No theories? No rogue memories flitting around in that pretty head of yours?”

By the time he finished speaking, he was immediately in front of you with a crimson-clawed hand patting your head patronizing and popping. 

You didn’t like it. Any of it. He reminded you of a cheap car salesman. 

“I don’t know who I am or how I got here if that’s what you’re asking,” you said, trying to ward the fear from your voice. “I remember life on Earth but…nothing stable. Nothing…nothing that tells me anything about myself.”

“Curious,” said Alastor, rounding you with eyes that were sharp as they were searching. “Very curious.”

“So, you remember that princess that I was telling you about, Liv?” asked Rosie. “The one with the hotel? ‘Member?”

Squinting as if trying to physically see the memory, you grimaced. “Um…it was…Lucifer’s daughter?”

“Bingo!” Rosie shouted. “Well Alastor helps run the place and it just got HUGE upgrades thanks to Mr. Big Man in Damned Demand. I was thinking…since they’re all about redemption…maybe they could help you more than I could.”

With a pause, Rosie turned to Alastor. “I’ve tried it all, Alastor. I don’t know how Liv ended up here but it was something bad done by something even badder. I thought she’d remember something by now but…zilch. And it’s not safe for her to stay here. I’ve done what I could to keep rumors from making it to the mill but she’s a very amnesiac steak in a town of ravenous wolves. Least there’s you at the hotel. She won’t worry for safety.”

At first you thought Alastor meant to remain silent. He merely stood staring at you with those terrible eyes, fingers shifting his microphone staff back and forth. 

But then he glanced to Rosie. 

“If there’s anyone who could get this poor soul her memory back, it’s Charlie.”

Weird, you thought. He kind of sounded sincere there.

Rosie hugged Alastor by his side before releasing him to clap her hands.

“Thank you, Alastor! Oh, you don’t know how happy I am that you’re back! Things are gonna be changing around here.”

Your heart might have stopped when a curl of Alastor’s lip revealed grayed gums. 

“Oh,” he said, static simmering around him. “Yes, they are.”

[iheartgod175]

Bugs Bunny — Warmonger

His very name strikes fear into the hearts of the most hardened warrior. Crimson and gold tear through all in his path, unmatched in its strength, and unrelenting in its power and fury. Celestial Warrior, Warmonger, descends upon the battlefield.

Bugs Bunny was a household name that was revered amongst comedians in Acmeville, and beloved by many. And one wouldn’t be blamed for being awestruck by him—his easygoing trickster nature would draw one to him like bees, something his greatest rivals would begrudgingly admit. Get to know him personally, and he’s the best friend one could have. Draw his ire, and no force in nature will stop him from getting his revenge, however creative and absurd it may be.

Yes, Bugs Bunny was a household name. Keyword was.

The world’s most famous star was caught up in a freak explosion in Acmeville’s business district, of which his co-star, Daffy Duck, was the only survivor. Theories ran rampant and multiple searches were conducted, but all came back negative, and everyone in the world came to accept the worst as pure fact. The world mourned the death of Bugs Bunny while simultaneously blaming Daffy for the buck’s death, accusing him of foul play. And while justice is still being pursued, the world moved on as more chaotic incidents forced them to turn their attention elsewhere. Still, some of his most rabid fans believe that he was still alive, and that no mere explosion could kill him. They believe that he’s laying in low and pursuing the person who tried to kill him, as Bugs wasn’t one who would let an attempt on his life go unchallenged.

As Droop-a-Long Coyote would learn, those rabid fans had a few things right, and they got a few things wrong.

Bugs Bunny did, in fact, die that day—but the reasons for his death weren’t as cut and dry as people believed.

Bugs Bunny was, in fact, alive, having come back from death as a pure Celestial warrior. Revived by arcane arts that are beyond human comprehension, it resulted in one of the most powerful Celestials known to mankind, with an Imperium Crystal that craves blood. Though already feared for his creative methods of retaliation, his masterful use of one of the few complete relics in the world—Dáinsleif, which was sought by many—and his Astral Skill, Flare Stealer, makes him a menace. While Dáinsleif draws its power from the blood of the innocent, his Astral Skill gives him the ability to steal Imperium Mana directly from an Imperium Crystal, effectively draining their heart. This essentially makes him a vampire, for he needs the Imperium Crystals of the innocents to keep him alive.

And yes, he was pursuing the person who killed him…but his path to justice meant leaving a trail of blood in his wake, something that he never would have done in his earthly body.

Droop-a-Long Coyote would meet his childhood hero in the worst way possible, learning that the “Bugs Bunny” he grew up with now only existed in the past. The Bugs Bunny he grew up with never had a soulless look in his eyes. The Bugs Bunny he grew up with never wore such armor. The Bugs Bunny he grew up with never wielded a sword so magnificently terrifying it froze him in place. The Bugs Bunny he knew could give his adversaries a thrashing—but “thrashing” seemed too gentle of a word to describe what the buck did to Avenger I, to Titan, and even Reaper.

That became the least of his concerns as the being formerly known as Bugs Bunny turned upon him, arcane flames dancing across his shoulder to heal the hit that Droop-a-Long had, by dumb luck, inflicted on him. Emerald green eyes, once soulless, were now alive and gleaming with intense rage. If speaking alone could kill someone, he would’ve dropped the moment he heard the phrase that lent to his new name, the phrase that signaled a terrible end for the one who wronged him—

“Of course you realize, this means war.”

—

I LIVE AGAIN!

Now, don’t worry, I will do a proper profile for Warmonger when I get the chance. I just don’t have the time because I’m gonna head into work in a few, and the length of this profile is gonna be the same as the Second Styles for both Super Why and Princess Presto (in other words, a freakin’ essay), so I’ll have to put it off until this weekend!

But anyway—LOOK AT HIM. LOOK AT HOW BADASS HE IS. I was going for the “edgy anti villain” angle for Bugs, and it came out perfectly. I was trying to avoid doing black and red, but since Huck had black, lavender and purple and Ric has black, orange and amber/brown, I figured it’d make sense ^^ Plus the color scheme suits him really well!

Make no mistake, Bugs is one of the most broken characters in the cast—with a name like Warmonger, would you expect anything less?—and is able to wipe the floor with Huck, Yogi and Ricochet easily. But there’s a reason behind it, though, a reason that will be revealed in the upcoming profile!

I was half tempted to start numbering this like I did with the Einherjar Files and the Attero Dominatus Files, but I wanted to get Huck, Ricochet and Yogi done before I start in on this profile. And yes, I started out of order. BUT I DON’T CARE. Lol. XD

That’s all I’ll have to say for the time being, but I hope you love this piece as much as I loved working on it!

Big thanks to user @zero06iranosaurusrex for their awesome takes on Bugs, which inspired this!

[all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth]

All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Drive (6x02)

It ended just as it had begun: seeing red.

This morning she was cooking, just like she had every morning they’d been together, and then she got a nosebleed — the first nosebleed he’d ever seen her get in their twenty years of marriage. She tried to smile and reassure him that she was okay, but it was hard to take her word for it when the blood had seeped into her mouth and stained her teeth crimson. 

A few hours later, he was staring at her blood oozing down the side of a cop’s window.

Patrick didn’t initially realize that’s what he was looking at. It was like his mind turned the splatter into a Rorschach test out of pure self-preservation. Was it the reflection of the Nevada terrain on the window? Did he burst a blood vessel in his eye? He would have gladly accepted any explanation over the truth.

“Guns down! Guns down!” someone screamed.

“No one has discharged their weapon, sir!” another voice replied.

“Vicky?” he called out, swallowing harshly against the gritty dirt that mixed with the saliva in his mouth.

He found himself missing the cacophony of noise that had been following him for the past few hours. The sickening silence of no one knowing what to say was worse than anything he’d ever heard.

“Help her!” he screamed at the man staring inside the back seat.

The man gently opened the back door and quickly fell to his knees as he tried to keep Vicky’s slumped form from hitting the ground.

From his vantage point, he could see his favorite spot to kiss her was no longer there, only viscera, bone, and red.

So much red.

* * *

“So, want to tell us how this all began, O.J.?”

Patrick kept his gaze steady on the interrogation room table, but in his periphery, he saw the other agent elbow the comedian before clearing his throat.

“We just want to say we’re really sorry about your loss, Patrick.”

“Mr. Crump,” he replied. His voice was hoarse from screaming, but he’d be damned if he took a sip from the bottle of water they’d given him.

“I’m sorry?”

Raising his face to meet the stare of the rookie cop, he seethed, “It’s Mr. Crump to you.”

The kid had the decency to look chagrined and nodded politely. “Can you tell us what happened?”

Pointedly, the older cop added, “From the beginning.”

He couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do less, but he was too exhausted to fight anymore. “My wife wasn’t feeling good this morning. Got a nosebleed, then the worst headache I’ve ever seen.”

“What was wrong with her?” 

Patrick wrung his hands in frustration, only for it to serve as a reminder that they’d taken his wedding band from him as ‘evidence.’ “My neighbor, Lois, she suffers from these things called cluster headaches. Said it’s the worst pain a human being can experience. I thought that might be what Vicky had, but fifteen minutes after the nosebleed, she looked like she was just… screaming. I’ve never heard anything like that before, so I wanted to take her down the road to Lovelace Medical Center.”

Two sets of eyebrows shot up, but the younger one was the first to comment. “You realize you overshot Lovelace by nearly 100 miles?”

“Keep driving, Patrick! Oh my god, it’s killing me. You have to keep going!”

“I know,” he sighed.

“...why?” the older partner prodded before taking a swig from his thermos. The movement caused the fluorescent lights to cast a shine on the man’s golden wedding band, and Patrick felt the knife twist deeper. 

This oaf of a man got to come to work, fail to prevent another man’s wife from dying, and then go home and lay down with his own like nothing happened. Just another day on the job. Meanwhile, Vicky was dead. Last night they’d watched Leno, she gossiped about some of her coworkers, and he turned in early. He didn’t make last night special because he didn’t know it would be their last night. Then this morning, she died alone and in pain in the back of some pig’s car.

“Where’s my wife?” he seethed.

“We can’t-”

“Where’s my wife?!” he screamed, slamming his fist down on the table, ignoring how the cuffs bit into his wrists.

“The morgue. We need to investigate her death,” the younger cop explained, raising his hands as if he were trying to approach a wild animal.

Patrick bit the flesh of his inner cheek, trying to hold back tears as he imagined his wife. Vicky was so scared of the dark, and she was so claustrophobic. He didn’t want her to be in one of those metal boxes in the wall. He didn’t want her to be scared.

“Why did you keep driving?” the older man pushed, emphasizing each word pointedly.

“ I don’t want to die. Patrick, help me. I need you.”

“You act like this is the first weird thing to happen around here,” Patrick spat. He couldn’t explain the truth. They’d make a mockery of him. Worse, they’d make a mockery of her. 

They’d been normal yesterday. They’d done nothing wrong.

“Mr. Crump-”

“Don’t!” Patrick screamed. “You spray our food with poison. You pollute our water supply with chemicals. Don’t look at me like I should know what you did to her! I’ve seen it thousands of times over. You think we don’t matter, that we’re expendable. She mattered. Don’t you dare-”

“That’s enough,” the older officer shouted, standing up. He shook his head at the two-way mirror, and sighed “This isn’t going anywhere. Take him back to his cell, let the doctor check him out.”

Patrick didn’t know what they were expecting from him. He didn’t have the answers they were looking for. He didn’t know why she felt better when the car was headed west. He didn’t know why they couldn’t stop. 

All he knew was that his wife was dead.

Read the rest of All Eyes Lead to the Truth on Archive of Our Own!

@gaycrouton

[siderealscribblings]

Subject Lohefalter made contact with one of the agents from the Tsaritsa's new state department. A heated (pardon the pun) battle was anticipated, but Subject Lohefalter appears to have left the area shortly before or at the same time as the Snezhnayans.  Will monitor the situation closely, but Subject Lohefalter may have found a new allegiance with the Snezhnayans.  Awaiting new orders,  - A 

Neuvillette ran his fingers over the note thoughtfully, disappointed that it raised more questions than it answered. Egeria had once sent the Oceanids throughout the world to keep her informed on the other nations; Furina had to make due with maintaining a spy network of mortal ex-soldiers and intelligence officers. Not as stealthy as Oceanids could be, but at least the mortal spies could follow orders.  

The Witch is going to Snezhnaya, Neuvillette thought, leaning back in the window seat overlooking the dark waters below. What does this mean ?

It was close to two in the morning when the messenger bird rapped on his window with a scroll attached to its leg. Against his better judgment, he took the note to decode in his private study next to his bedroom rather than save it for the morning. Of course it wasn't good news; Neuvillette had rarely heard anything but bad news where the so-called Crimson Witch of Flames was concerned, but her new connection to Snezhnaya was particularly troubling. The Tsaritsa had been assembling a small army of monsters for years and Neuvillette was no longer convinced that she was as peaceful as she claimed to be. Though he could never tie the assassination attempt a few years earlier to the Snezhnayans, it was hard to imagine who else would arm a man with an elemental blade and send him running at an Archon in the middle of the street. 

This is going to be a problem, Neuvillette thought, rubbing his eyes as sleep seemed to be far out of reach.

"What's all this commotion?" Neuvillette snapped out of his musing as a soft voice called from the doorway. Furina's hair was still tousled from sleep, sticking up in odd angles as she pulled a dressing gown over her thin blue nightgown and stuck her head in the room. 

"I don't believe I said anything," Neuvillette said, pushing himself up as Furina entered his study. 

"Then you must've been thinking so loudly that you woke me," Furina chuckled, wiping her nose on the corner of her dressing gown. The closer she got, the more he could see her red, puffy eyes and tear-tracks dried on her cheeks

"Is something wrong?" Neuvillette asked. 

Furina waved her hand dismissively. "Oh…just a stupid dream; nothing all that exciting." 

Liar , Neuvillette thought. Furina hadn't heard anything; she just wanted to come to him after a bad dream but needed a plausible reason first. As much as he made himself available to her, she still took the effort to concoct reasonable excuses to conceal any hint of neediness whenever she asked something of him. He had been pulled into plenty of “late night strategy sessions” that turned out to be thinly veiled asks for company after an unsettling dream or challenging day in the forum. Neuvillette didn’t particularly mind…he just wished she could afford him a little honesty by now. 

Furina acted for everyone; Neuvillette just happened to be the one she acted the least for. But she still acted fine when she very clearly wasn't; she still acted like each setback and heartbreak they faced in their rebellion against destiny didn't affect her. He was beginning to see the toll it took; the optimistic spark in her eye had melted away over the years until he could barely see a glimmer. The human heart was only built to be strong for so long, and Furina was quickly reaching the limits of its intended design. 

"Mmhmm," Neuvillette hummed. "Bored you to tears by the look of it." 

"Ha ha," Furina deadpanned, wiping her cheeks. "Kindly stick to practicing law; the Opera is not prepared to host a comedian of your biting wit."

"Every genius is underappreciated in their time," Neuvillette said. "I'm sure history will judge me more kindly than you do." 

"Archons write the history of their nations; don't count on it," Furina said, her smug smirk dropping as her eyes drifted to the opened wax tube on Neuvillette's desk. "Did we hear from Mondstadt?" 

Neuvillette held the note between his fingers as Furina quietly locked the door and shuffled over to the window seat. "Good news?" 

"... news," Neuvillette said, tucking his legs up against his chest as Furina took her seat on the opposite side of the window seat. He watched her hold the note up to the light to read it, moonlight reflecting off her still dewy cheeks. It felt almost cruel to add to her unhappiness, but Furina had no patience for being coddled or treated with kid-gloves.

( "I will be one hundred years old before the decade is out, Neuvillette," Furina huffed, channeling Focalors in all her indignant fury after she discovered that he had softened a casualty report out of concern for her reaction. "Do not think I am so fragile that you need to hide things from me !")

It wasn't that he thought her fragile; it was just that watching her eyes droop as she read the note stung him terribly. He detested being the cause of her shoulders sagging, responsible for yet another chip out of Furina's battered heart. Furina was going to bounce back; she always did.

He just hated that she had to fall in the first place.

Read More...

[yahoo201027]

July 14: Happy 64th Birthday to Actress and Comedian Jane Lynch, who provided the voice of the A.I./Artificial Intelligence for the Crimson Light formerly owned by Clarence and Gary Goodspeed throughout the second season of the series as the Final Space character of AVA; the creative director and show presenter for the Crustacean Nation Wrestling Federation as the Bob’s Burgers character of Carol from the Season 13 episode “Crab-solutely Fabulous” (2023); and one of the members of the Tobin family who hid herself for 60 years inside a bunker, aunt of Beef and Brian, and great-aunt of Wolf, Ham, Judy, and Moon as The Great North character of Dirtrude "Dirt" Tobin".

[kidneyyummer]

This doodle I did of DP at a random playground that I never shared lol Nobody tell the police

[aepluric]

Zazz & Zor Fictives

reminder that beings will almost definitely not turn out exactly as described, and these can be edited & changed as needed.

this blog is anti Radqueer / TransID!

" it's beatdown time! "

✦ Names : Zazz , Crimson , Maw , Alastair , Riot , Akuma , Grim , Salem.

✦ Age : Age Invisible ( Agehazy , Palaikian ).

✦ Pronouns : It/Its , Shock/Shocks , Claw/Claws , Cy/Cybers , Fang/Fangs , Byte/Bytes , Girr/Girrs , Shx/Hxr.

✦ Gender : Boyfail , Masccomplexic , Sortaboy.

✦ Xenogender : Waterwebic , Aerowhalic , Creauterelle , Fluffdeceitgender.

✦ Attraction : Compliaro , Liersian.

✦ Other IDs : N/A.

✦ Species : Zeti.

✦ Source : Sonic The Hedgehog.

✦ Birthday & Zodiac : 2nd August + Leo.

✦ Roles : Ògregulator , Emotional Processor , Jester , Comedian.

✦ Sign Off / Proxy : ♂️ , 🍼 , 🤡 , 🎉 , 🎊 , 🃏 , 💦 , 🌊 , 🫧 , ⛲

✦ Appearance : Has small bat-like wings that can wrap around hxr girlfriend.

✦ Associated Colours : Wild Strawberry ( #FF3399 ) , Amazon ( #3B7A57 ) , Cornflower Blue ( #63A5EB ).

" my only joy is in joylessness. "

✦ Names : Zor , Calix , Acid , Blythe , Hunter , Zach , Adrian , Arlo.

✦ Age : Age Akin ( Polyage , Enilikian ).

✦ Pronouns : It/Its , Hx/Hxm , Bite/Bites , Bone/Bones , Gloom/Glooms , Gore/Gores , Grr/Grrs , Gut/Guts.

✦ Gender : Transneufem , Censari , Etheria.

✦ Xenogender : Emowhiskeric , Sourcandyblastic , Edgywolfkinnic.

✦ Attraction : Luminian , Uraniflux.

✦ Other IDs : N/A.

✦ Species : Zeti + Goat.

✦ Source : Sonic The Hedgehog.

✦ Birthday & Zodiac : 13th March + Pisces.

✦ Roles : Sympathetic Regressor , Curadare , Bitch / Janusian , Chameleon.

✦ Sign Off / Proxy : 🖤 , 🦇 , 🥀 , 🕷️ , 🌹 , 🕸️ , 🔪 , ⛓️ , 🦎

✦ Appearance : Has a long, spiky tail with a tuft of fur at the end, akin to a lion. Its horns curl all the way back.

✦ Associated Colours : Eminence ( #682889 ) , Portica ( #F7E465 ) , Tawny Port ( #7B2A38 )

[minie-mastermind]

Joker of Earth 3?

The identity of Red Hood went around to a couple of different Gotham Heroes before Jack Napier took up the identity for a simple act of justice. Stealing money from a safe in ace chemicals, the manager fired all the staff he could before Christmas so he wouldn't need to pay Christmas bonuses. Some families didn't even make it through the winter that year, this money would go a long way to making sure the rest would. Originally a comedian Jack Napier only knew about Owlman as an urban legend to laugh at when brought up in serious conversation. He had even mentioned him in his act, so when he saw him in person and threw him into the acid it was the surprise of his life as well as the worst day of it. Horribly disfigured he couldn't go out without being obviously recognized and hunted by Owlman, so he continued his identity as the Red Hood as he seek to revenge. He went up against Owlman again and again and lost every time. The chemicals he had been doused in affecting his health actually gave him an idea, what if he wasn't the only Red Hood? The identity had been taken up by more than one person but never at the same time, so what if there was an army to fight against Owlman? So he started looking and finding plenty of people who hated Owlman enough to join. He kept Everything secret and everyone disconnected from each other so anytime I Owlman discovered one he wouldn't discover the rest.

These crimson avengers all go by their own call signs usually based around playing cards. Wild Card Aka Jack Napier being the head and organizer of the rest. Outlaw Aka Doctor Harleen Quinzel was a therapist that Arkham who treated multiple Red Hood's before joining the cause herself, quickly figuring out the identity of its leader through the sheer fact that they used to date in college. Card King & Queen Aka Duela & Dexter Dent usually working together joined quite young and grew up in your organization after their father's disfigurement. Jokster Aka Alexis Kaye grew up idolizing him from what she saw through the media, seeing the Red Hood as the ultimate symbol of rebellion against the corrupt system. Jester Aka Gaggy Gagsworth A. Gagsworthy had been travelling with the flying graysons before the accident and after a lifetime of hardship on the road wanted to see the world change for the better.

Fake identities were built as well to throw element off the trail of any of the actual members. Ones that owl man has discovered are Eric Border, Johann Kaiser, Oberon Sexton and A. Rekoj.

Even after the supposed death of its leader it would carry on into the future as a group dealing out street justice called the Hoodz.

[madman479r]

Prompt request:

“Oh my.. you are a lot younger than I expected”(peter/felicia)

If you had told Felicia that tonight she'd be teaming up with her superhero crush Spider-man to take down some guy in an armoured rhino suit, she'd tie you up and send you to the looney bin herself.

But turns out reality can be kind at times because that's exactly what happened.

Now both costumed Vigilantes were up on a rooftop, panting as the fight really took a toll on them, trust the witty hero to use brain to beat brawn.

So that was witty, charming, strong, great body, greater ass and now smart added to the list.

Now if only she got to see under that mask of his.

Spider-man's voice broke her scheming. "Thanks for the help there, cat." He honestly didn't know if he could have taken Rhino down as quickly without the Cat thief's help.

'Opportunity' Cat said internally before speaking aloud. "No problem, spider. Can't lie, got my heart bumping like crazy, you really know how to show a girl a good time." Felicia purred and sent a wink at him.

Spider-man seemed flustered just by her tone of voice. "Y-yeah- I mean!- this isn't usually what I'd do with a girl- N-not that i do this with dozens of other girls! Y-you're my first. -I mean! Not f-first in THAT way- I uh..."

Black Cat couldn't stop the amused smile that graced her face, there was something adorable about how Spider-man could go up against 8 foot walking tanks and dish out quips like a stand up comedian yet still become a stuttering mess when talking to girls.

'Girls' there was something about that word that nearly made Felicia frown. She was no girl, she was a woman and she had the body to prove it. 'Time to show Spider how much of a woman I am.'

"So I helped you out then?" Cat started to walk closer to Spider-man, her hips swaying and despite the lenis of the mask covering his eyes, she could feel his eyes roaming her form and she relished in it.

As she neared him, Spider-man grew nervous, feeling like... well an actual spider being stalked by a cat.

"Maybe i deserve a reward for helping the hero." Cat licked her crimson lips.

Spider-man slowly backed up, but for every step he took it was like cat's long shapely legs took two strides forward. His spider sense wasn't going off yet he certainly felt in danger by that predatory look in her eyes.

Suddenly Spider-man felt himself walk into something hard and solid, I was the wall to the rooftop entrance, before he could curse his lack of environmental awareness, he felt something soft press against his front.

Two soft somethings. He looked up to see Black Cat's face inches from his. Cat the pressed her leg up against his crotch, making him choke on his words.

Felicia was loving this, her body alone was making her hero into a mess of hormones, she could feel his length against her lap and she was not disappointed.

"Wha-" Spider-man squeaked before clearing his throat. "Wh-what kind of r-reward?" He asked.

Black Cat closed in, Spider-man could feel her hot breath against his lips even through the mask. "Well." She started, her voice filled with want and desire. "What woman doesn't wanna kiss her super hero crush?"

Despite the confident outward appearance, inside Felicia felt her own heart racing, she was flush against Spider-man, the who saved her life all those years ago, stopping a car from ramming into the bus she was on and was about to kiss him. There was no question about it because what Black Cat wanted, she took it.

Her fingers reached for his mask, feeling the edge of the separate cloth and started to roll it upwards. He didn't try to stop her, telling her that he wanted this just as badly, wanted her just as badly.

It didn't matter that she was grinding against him, his own leg was against her crotch and she was loving the feel of it.

The mask was now rolled over his mouth, those sweet lips she wanted to cover with her own.

In the back of her mind she noted the lack of facial hair, that was a plus in her eyes. Besides the mask was skin tight, having little hairs poke out the mask would probably make him look ridiculous and would probably be uncomfortable.

Now it was over his nose and she stopped, taking a second to admire the strong jaw line and flawless skin.

Felicia licked her lips again, getting them ready for what was about to happen. "Pucker up, Spider."

She then crashed her lips against Spider-man's, muffling the shocked gasp he gave and moaned into his mouth.

This wasnt Peter's first kiss, but with Black Cat this was different, it was wild, full of passion and desire, this was beyond anything he'd ever felt before. The smooth lips of the thief felt so warm and soft on his and when she started to suck his lower lip he gave a deep groan that reverberated through his throat.

Black Cat pulled away to breath and took a second to just admire the blissed out expression Spider-man had, before she pushed her body even closer to his, her breasts against his chest and her leg pressed harder against his groin, his length giving a twitch under the pressure. They fit together perfectly like puzzle pieces, and she gave a long drawn out purr as she moved to kiss his cheek, then his jaw and finally down the neck, leaving a wet trail.

Spider-man gasped, her tongue licking his neck sending a thrill up his spine and his own length giving another twitch. "Ahh...Cat..." He groaned, wanting her to keep going.

Felicia gave a chuckle, giving a soft bite on his jugular before pulling away to face him. She wanted to see him, all of him. So that means the mask had to go.

She grabbed both edges of his mask and pulled up in one swift movement.

When she saw Spider-man's face, her heart skipped a beat, even with the mask off, her mind told her that he looked nothing like she imagined.

He wasn't what she expected, before she had met the hero, she had imagined some old rugged man with scars, maybe a few age spots, or at least a man who looked like he was in his thirties or early forties.

Then after meeting her hero and hearing him speak, she expected someone in his twenties, around her age. Instead the man underneath the mask was a teenager, a handsome one at that but still a teenager.

Felicia couldn't help herself. "Oh my... you are... younger than I expected."

Spider-man ducked his face away from Black Cat, an embarrassed and angry blush on his face. "Im 17! But Let me guess, I'm just some kid, right?"

Her eyes drank in every feature, she saw the smooth skin and the boyish face that made her heart beat just a tad bit faster and the hazel eyes that held so much life, he was strong jawed with perfect white teeth and thin lips that made her want to feel them against hers again.

All in all he was perfect. He was young, fit, strong, smart, funny, sexy and the body to match it all.

Felicia wanted to taste more of that body.

The cat themed thief brought up a hand to the teens cheek and gently pulled it towards her, so he was facing her. "That's not what I meant... it just kind of surprised me, that's all. Just thought you'd be older. But you were dusted, meaning we were actually the same age before the blip. Plus, seeing your true face, let me tell you..." She licked her lips. "...I'm even more impressed. You're perfect, sweetie."

Peter blushed even harder, his hands coming up to grab her shoulders. "W-what?" He couldn't help but stutter at her words, those words coming from that sexy and very beautiful voice of hers, was enough to make him forget the previous embarrassment.

Felicia chuckled at how flustered the teen was getting, giving a light peck on his lips before answering. "You're perfect, Spider-man." She kissed him again. "So much better than I imagined." She kissed him once more and this time Peter reciprocated, eager to taste more of those soft lips.

They stood like that for a few minutes, tasting each others mouths, both were breathing hard, with Black Cat starting to grind against him again, causing him to gasp out.

She smiled as she pulled away and kissed the hero on the cheek. "If we keep going like this, I think I'm gonna make a mess of your suit." She told him, letting a hand rest against his crotch, rubbing against his covered length and she gave a chuckle at the hardness she felt through the material.

Spider-man's eyes widened, his hand covering hers as he tried to get his body under control. "C-cat..." He panted.

Felicia giggled at him, her finger tracing the outline of the teens covered erection. "Oh my poor sweetie, I can make it better for you." Cat cooed with a smirk. "So the most important question is..." Felicia then leaned into Spider-man's ear and whispered. "Your place or mine?"

[i--am--the--sheep]

Take The One I Love The Most [ch 2]

read fic warnings and find other chapters here

“Jesus Christ, man.  What were you trying to do?”  Kazuki knew he was mostly talking to himself.  Rei was unresponsive aside from the occasional soft groans of pain.  His shoulder was finally in full view, and it wasn’t great.  Getting shot there was a pretty nasty predicament – it’d fuck him up for a good while, and could have permanent repercussions.  Although, Kazuki assumed, that was probably his intention.

Kazuki worked as swiftly as he could without making any mistakes.  Mistakes were not an option right now – not when his partner was bleeding from an inconveniently located wound with far too much blood flow.  He opened the first aid kit, pulled a bowl out from under the sink, grabbed some iodine from the cabinet, and started setting up.  He filled the bowl with water, threw in a clean cloth, and uncapped the iodine. 

“Gonna touch you, Rei.”  A warning for the semi-conscious assassin.  He started using the iodine and gauze pads to clean the edges of the wound, getting a hiss of pain anytime his fingers dug too deep into the bloodied flesh.  He moved on to the packing process, wincing as he shoved layer after layer of gauze into the wound and tried to hold Rei still.  He knew it hurt.  He’d had bullet wounds of his own packed before, but his wounds weren’t nearly this bad.  Rei gritted his teeth and pushed his head further into the ceramic of the bathtub, a low noise creeping up his throat.  That’s how Kazuki knew this was bad – Rei was always silent about any injuries he had.  But in this woozy, delirious state, he was making noises he’d normally never make.

After the wound was thoroughly packed, tight with gauze on both ends, Kazuki could finally move on to cleaning around the bullet hole.  There was blood smeared across Rei’s collarbone and arm, the crimson contrasting starkly with the porcelain skin of someone who preferred to stay indoors.  He almost smiled, thinking of Rei closing the curtains one day, hiding from the sun to play video games with Miri.  

God, Miri.  

What would they tell her?  Papa got shot trying to protect you and Daddy Kazuki from a family business of killers for hire?  It was already a challenge explaining to the daycare that the comedian/oil baron thing was a prank from a friend of theirs.  Kazuki didn’t think he could pass off a second (and more concerning) job as a joke.  Thank the stars that ‘Uncle Kyu’ agreed to watch Miri for a few days.  He shook his head, trying to clear his brain as he rinsed and wrung out the bloody cloth.  He wiped the last bit of blood from Rei’s chest, cloth gliding over countless scars and old injuries.  Kazuki unraveled a roll of bandages part way, wrapping it around Rei’s shoulder and under his arm, securing it to keep everything in place.  He inspected his work, taking a deep shuddering breath.

Here he was, sitting between Rei’s knees, blood under his nails and sweat running down his neck, shaking from the adrenaline.  He could feel his eyes starting to sting, not that he acknowledged it.  Instead, he gently laid his forehead on Rei’s chest, careful not to jostle him.

“You aren’t disposable, y’know.  Fuckin’ moron.  Can’t lose you.”  He felt like yelling, screaming.  But his voice was soft, cracking around the lump in his throat.  “We need you around here.  Miri needs you.  I–”  Kauzki stopped, swallowing and blinking down the nervous tears pooling in his eyes.

Rei didn’t respond, only moving his good arm closer to where Kazuki was resting his hands on his legs.  He pretended not to notice when he felt the blond wrap his hand around his wrist, fingers resting on Rei’s pulse point.  He mostly focused on drowning out his spinning head and throbbing shoulder.  That, and trying to ignore the strange pang of guilt deep in his chest.