#purse snatchers

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"WOMEN'S ASSAILANTS GIVEN TERMS IN 'PEN'," Toronto Star. June 24, 1943. Page 13. ---- Convicted last week of assault with intent to rob and robbery, Arthur Dawson and Fred Brown were each sentenced to two years and six months in the penitentiary by Judge James Parker, in county criminal court today.

The two knocked down Mrs. Louisa Welch and Mrs. Lillian Price as they alighted from a car at Queen and McCaul Sts. one night last month and robbed Mrs. Welch of her handbag containing $5. It was also alleged they assaulted Joe Durand near the same place, but obtained nothing.

[virtute-praeditum]

@malika-carnelian​​ wanted a starter from this list, I selected: SALVAGE [for one muse to retrieve the other’s belongings from a thief]

    Optimus normally only involved himself in larger-than-life affairs and human crimes, sometimes because he was invited, sometimes without invitation. But from time to time, a pettier individual would make the mistake of being near him when they decided to perform a petty deed, and naturally, he could not simply ignore it. Today was one of those occasions.

    It would be difficult to describe the growing fear from the realization that a cabover truck was chasing you. Humans, of course, could fit in smaller places than Optimus, but Optimus could move much faster than a human could run. He merely had to keep track of the thief, which he did, and soon enough the bag-stealer made the mistake he was waiting for: they retreated in the neighborhood’s park, apparently believing he would not drive after them. Their logic was partially correct, he wouldn’t drive after them, but that did not stop his pursuit.

    Transforming, he leap over and landed in front of the thief, inspiring them to fall on their rear end from a flailing attempt to halt. A moment later, they were trapped in his hand, and after he removed a bag from their grasp, Optimus opened his chest and placed them into his cab. Muffled fussing and complaints occurred within once it closed again, but they were not injured, merely contained.

    Glancing down, Optimus noted he did damage a few patches of grass in his landing, but he knew a rake could straighten it and the grass would grow back. No real harm done. Stepping carefully back to the road, he returned to vehicle mode, and gave a lecture to the pleading criminal in his passenger seat. In the meantime, he searched for the original owner of the stolen pouch.

    Once he found her, Optimus transformed again, resting on his poleyns before the young woman as he greeted, “Hello.” Lowering a hand to return her bag, he continued, “The culprit seems to regret their action. Would you like me to release them, or would you prefer to call a peace officer?”

[lifetimeoftired]

there's a lot of (extremely good and hilarious) prompts where Danny has to leave his home dimension and finds his way into the dcu. What I'd like to see is the reverse though. Like, the goth furries who don't care for magic and have a lot of aliens friends being tossed into 'only ghosts are real and everything works on comedy rules' universe.

Batman: So these 'ghosts', they come through a portal and attack people and you, a 14 are the only person stopping them? Danny: I mean, it's kind of my fault? I did turn the thing on when I died death. Batman: -concerned grunting- Danny: I'm fine! Really! Being half dead isn't as weird as you'd think. It'd be easier if I could finish high school without being attacked but it's a living. Batman: Why not contact your world's justice league? Danny: What's a justice league? Batman: -distressed grunting-

-

Nightwing: So how do you handle normal criminals? Danny: What d'ya mean? Nightwing: You know, people who commit crimes? Danny: You mean like a purse snatcher or something? Nightwing: Not exact- You know what? Sure. How do you handle purse snatchers? Danny: -shrugs while making a I dunno noise- I guess the police handle that kind of stuff? I'm usually fighting the personification of sleep or my arch nemesis Plasmius. Which would be less annoying if he stopped trying to adopt me. But yeah, no. I don't usually see a lot of 'crime-crime' stuff outside of the 6 o'clock news every other week or so. There's just not that much of it I guess. Nightwing: Okay. So. Follow up questions-

[roninreverie]

Jeanist is not exactly wrong considering this whole war is mostly because of Shigaraki, but now I'm wondering if heroes like to use "incarnation of evil/ evil incarnate" a lot on the bad guys.

Kamui says almost the same thing in episode 1:

Naturally, this makes me wonder if Kamui picked it up from Jeanist, if Jeanist picked it up from Kamui, or if this is just a thing the heroes say.

[hypewinter]

Not for the first time, Jazz had underestimated her strength when it came to dealing with a purse snatcher. Now she was stuck trying to convince Wonder Woman that she really wasn't an Amazon.

[akiranzee]

headcanons, maybe? Muzan with a reader that is the TOTAL opposite when it comes to personality. Sweet, kind, optimistic and forgiving. things like that! feel free to add more to it, though.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ MUZAN WITH A SOFT S/O!!

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༘˚ this man is a busy man, but he always makes time for you.

༘˚ and when he can’t, he sends at least one or two people to accompany you. ༘˚ why? because you’re too naive. muzan’s words. ༘˚ it wasn’t until he found out that you almost got scammed on an obvious scam. miyazaki mango for ¥2000? what kind of crap is that??? and now, he makes sure that he’s with you whenever you go to the market. ༘˚ also, that one time when your purse got snatched and the snatcher hadn’t even stepped a foot when muzan already grabbed him by the neck and you’re just; “muziee, stopp, he’s probably just having a hard time.” and then you give the snatcher some yen from your purse and muzan’s just like ???? ༘˚ so now he gotta up his security even more, glaring at anyone who tries to woo you :((. ༘˚ man’s also got the audacity to tell the old woman to get out of her seat on the train and let you sit instead when you’re literally fine. ༘˚ he also sometimes forgets his responsibilities and routines when he’s with you, time seems to slow down, he says and wonders. ༘˚ when raining, he tends to just take his coat off and drape it on your head, or if he didn’t wear one, he’ll cover you with his whole ass body. ༘˚ and when it’s a hot ass sunny day, he’ll always make sure to keep you hydrated and ask someone to fan you when you don’t even need him to. ༘˚ your relationship is more of a butler x princess. ༘˚ he’s like following you around in his free time that everyone around you will already know where you both are. ༘˚ also, anyone who dares to verbally abuse you will literally be sent to hell. he’ll either ask someone to beat them up while you cry in his arms, or he’ll beat them up himself while you cry in his arms, but it’s always the latter. ༘˚ now, as for cuddle time, he’ll usually be late, catch you already asleep, as again, he is a busy man, so he’ll just silently scoot inside the blanket and tuck you in his arms without surprisingly waking you up, and press a soft kiss on your forehead, the last of his duties as he too, drifts off to sleep. ༘˚ he also can’t stay mad at you for too long when you do something dumb or clumsy, ‘cause your pretty little doe eyes will just stare up at him and he’ll just... soften up. ༘˚ so, in conclusion, this man becomes soft when only and only he’s with you.

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a/n: this is my first time writing a headcanon lol. i also dk if u wanted this modern era or not :((.

[artbyblastweave]

Or, to briefly dip into truism, I think you can construct the fundamental fantasy of superheroism as that of a viable one-person assault against the entrenched, and if you want to try to assign politics to the genre beyond that point you need to examine who, specifically, each individual capework frames as the entrenched. Is it the Mob, at a point in their history where they were functionally interchangeable with local government? The cops? The Nazis? The Communists? Giant faceless logistically-and-ideologically-murky terror networks with a snake motif? Purse snatchers? Landlords? Drug dealers? Drug users? The CIA (for creating the drugs used by the last two groups?) The FBI? The Army? The Army, but a secret black-book kinda division that can be cleanly morally separated from the regular army? Your local representative? A street gang (of, uh, of what ethnicity?) A street gang (full of ninjas?) A Megacorporation? An Asian Megacorporation? (uh oh). And so on. These aren't fungible

[evilminji]

*evil grin of The Ponderings™*

You know who DEFINITELY would have Unfinished Business?

Heroes. Professional "If I could just MOVE, just fight a BIT LONGER, save ONE MORE PERSON" Heroes. It's the ultimate and unending Unfinished Business. To protect people. Not just their friends, their co-workers, but the innocent people around them.

That kid, stuck crying in the rubble.

That business man, screaming in pain, caught in the cross fire.

The People NEED them. They SWORE. Their very SOULS burn with the NEED to help. But... the flesh gave out. Injuries. Age. Quirk overuse. They knew... they KNEW, this was not a safe line of work... but... but! Please! Just one more person! Why can't they just make their breaking, dying, bodies MOVE!

Of course they refuse to move on.

They are needed HERE.

Yet? Their hands pass through. Their voices do not reach. A hell of their own, unknown, making. They can't let go, but they can't HELP either. There isn't enough Ectoplasm here. The walls of their reality overly patched up, since that unfortunate leak a few centuries back.

After all, the Zone had dumped near lethal quantities of unfiltered Ecto into the atmosphere. They're STILL dealing with the mutations and fall out, aren't they? At least, they are according to the Zone. (Wtf is a "Quirk"?) And, yeah, someone should PROBABLY do an assessment on the ecological recovery of the Reality. But like?

Do you have any idea how few people have an Obsession for stuff like that? Wait your turn! The list is long and you're not fuckin special, okay? The agents are BUSY.

Now, you might wonder? Wait. If they aren't moving on. Are DEFINITELY Ghosts. Starving as they are. Refusing to die as they may be. Wouldn't... Wouldn't that leave the whole ass area around their Reality an ecological dead zone? If it got over patched and no Ghosts LEFT, thus noticed, and started to try and work on it from the outside? Assuming the COULD?

Yeah. Yeah it would be!

It's called the "New Wastes"!

There used to be some cool Lairs around there. But there was a turf dispute. Someone DID something. Punched a HOLE. And everyone re-died. It was fixed but never quite re-healed. Portals... don't show up there? For some reason? Meh. Wanna brawl?

No. Danny's curious. He wants ANSWERS.

It's his fatal flaw.

Well... that and his inability to keep his mouth shut. But he likes to think he's funny. So... off he goes! And MAN! Does it feel funky out there! Weird textures. Mmmm, Don't Like THAT ™. It's probably a King thing? The Zone here... FEELS wrong.

Not... the way it's SUPPOSED to be shaped, if that makes sense?

And? It feels... if you sorta squint? Like... a LOT of people AREN'T where they should be. But aren't gonna leave until they're READY. Ooof. Great. Someone messed up again. Why does he KEEP FINDING bits and pockets that need straightening out? Unruffling? It's like he has to keep smooth out this giant peice of fabric with all these stains on it. Clean the messes on it.

He feels more like a maid then a King.

Maybe he is?

Pretty sure he's more of a nanny, since the Zone is more of a whiny yet excitable toddler then anything else. Alright, let him in. And fix... whatever THAT is.

So he steps into the Reality and? Huh. Japan. Neat. He always meant to go, never got around to it. Why is that man an otter?

.......oooohohooo, this place was HELLA fucked up by Ectoplasm, wasn't it? This is multi generational exposure. It's in the air. The water, ground, buildings. But stale to the point of stagnation. That can't be healthy. At least a few people he sees have developed ecto-resistance, thank the Ancients.

Danny discovers there are? "Superheroes"? Or just... heroes, apparently. They sell shampoo lines and athletic gear. Villians are petty criminals and psychopaths. All lumped together. He gets fuckin CHASED by the COPS and half the cities spandex patrol, called a "villian" (you know, like the purse snatchers and the DUDE WHO TRIED TO OPEN FIRE ON A CROWD) for flying around trying to assess the situation. Not speaking Japanese fast enough.

Soooorry! He TRIED to answer your confusing barked demands! This isn't his native language! He's translating through Ghost Speech! He knows it sounds unsettling to the living! It's the best he's GOT, man! (Asshole)

He escapes, obviously, because he's not 14 anymore. And honestly? He could top 200mph or so AT 14. He's only gotten faster. Intangible flight means no wind drag, motherfuckers~! OR need to dodge buildings! HA. Try to follow him through THE GROUND!

A few Blob sucked (to remove the ectoplasm) bits of treasure later? And he leaves a pawn shop with local currency. Thank YOU shady pawn shop! Ask him no questions, he'll tell you not lies. Enjoy Pariah's gold.

He does tourist things. Buy foods he's never tried, wanders around. Sees what's needed. Noticed a lot of people struggle with some aspect of the ecto-mutations brought on by the extreme Limnality. Need accessibility aids.

.....well, he IS a Fenton. His parents would disown him on the SPOT if he left with out at least TRYING to help. So he tracks down one the local ghosts. He'll need a guide or two.

He? VASTLY underestimates how desperate a sea of Obsession Starved Hero and Vigilante Ghosts will act, the INSTANT, they realize not only someone can see them... but it's? Their "Boss"? They aren't sure HOW they know that. But they DO. It's THE Boss. Here to help them! Asking for HELP ™ from THEM!

Yes

YES THEY CAN DO THAT

He gets swarmed. Hundreds of ghosts fighting over each other. Shouting. Turning on each other like rabid animals. All worn down and ragged by their Obssesion starvation. He's forced to shout over them.

And? Holy shit, these are only the ones from THIS CITY, too.

Thank Zone, again, he's no longer 14. That he has friends who are Rulers ™ that taught him HOW to Rule. To delegate. Pretend he TOTALLY knows what he's doing. That every action is on purpose.

It takes less then two hours, with all the experienced Unground Heros help, to make himself a Real Boy and buy a building. Put himself into the correct databases. He officially has licenses for things he's never studied. Is a tax paying citizen. Even belongs to several local clubs.

Over the next few days? He sets up his new... oi! Quickdraw! What're they called again? Right. "Lifestyle Support Company" which? Is a dumb name. But, Fenton Works is Fenton Works. Somehow he always kinda knew he'd be inherenting. It's in a cruddy part of town and the prices are cheap as he can safely get um.

He already had two customers, even though half the building isn't even fully set up. Which? I mean... he gets it. Poor guy. Knives for hands. Sharp ones too. The other guy's Obsession made him emotionally react to colors and like three different ones were ruining his life. So, hand Prosthetics controllable by knives and color filtering wrap around glasses.

Took him a lunch break or two.

Changed THEIR lives.

Suddenly his shop is packed. Schedule screaming for relief. And the ghosts? Getting more tangible by the day. See, his work shop? Ecto proofed. Let's him relax. But it ALSO let's him radiate fresh, clean, Ecto out into the air. And as King? With a direct line to The Zone? He puts out a lot.

There start to become Sightings.

People who SWEAR they saw long dead Heros out of the corner of their eyes. Dead vigilantes. That was who through that bottle. Who tripped that thug at just the right moment. Who unlocked the door. The SWEAR. They aren't crazy!

And... at first? Brushed off. Stress does a lot of crazy thing to a person, ma'am. But? How do you brush off, making eye contact with your dead best friend? Your old mentor on the other roof? That vigilante, who you WATCHED bleed out? Can you brush them off... when a vigilante from the dawn of quirks, punches some two bit villian on live television? Calls the Heros on the scene gloryhounds? Goverment dogs?

Runs from the cops and vanishes into thin air?

When this shit KEEPS HAPPENING?

Is spreading?

Are... are you supposed to arrest them for illegal vigilantism? How? They're THE proto-Heros! You don't want your name tied to that! The HPSC is furious. The goverment is uneasy. There are like... 6 dudes and a lady, openly stalking some kid in UA. Trying to mentor him. He looks moments away from a nervous breakdown.

Us too, kid. Us too.

All? While Danny? Is just sitting in his lil shop. Tinkering. Not HIS problem. Gotta let the ghosts here get it out of their system. Get their Obsession's full. Then it's all aboard the Zone Train. He's just here to make sure no one does anything "Too Crazy".

What's HIS definition of "too crazy"?

Wouldn't YOU like to know, weather boy~☆

@hdgnj @lolottes @nerdpoe @babbling-babull @mutable-manifestation @spidori @the-witchhunter @legitimatesatanspawn

[miguelhugger2099]

Eye for an Eye

Summary: Miguel rescues you in an ugly way. A/N: my guilty pleasure is sometimes i wanna be saveddd Warnings: Brief suggestion to sexual harrassment/assault, a bit of violence.

Somehow in the year 2099, most people didn't understand that Spider-Man in this age didn't follow the famous "no killing" rule that the original Spider-Man upheld in the Heroic Age. Most people meaning criminals.

Spider-Man, even when saving people from falling from skyscrapers or punching Public Eye scum in the face, if pushed to his limits- he would kill. This was his rules, his timeline, his Nueva York and if some pesky criminal wouldn't understand that then he'd get rid of them by any means.

So where do you come in all this?

Despite your efforts at secrecy, in the dead of night Spider-Man would often escort you home after work or if you had gotten into trouble with some purse snatcher. Other times, he'd sneak in your apartment window after a long fight, wanting to see you and have you patch up the wounds that would take a little more time to heal.

Spider-Man had revealed to you that he was actually Miguel O'Hara, the handsome stranger that had seemingly bumped into you more and more often after your very first encounter with Spider-Man. Having already been in an established relationship, you felt your heart drop at this major secret.

A part of you was angry at him for not telling you. For revealing your feelings about Miguel to his alter ego Spider-Man and making a fool of yourself. For all the nights he cancelled seeing you without explanation-something that put a strain on your relationship for a while. 

However the other half of you was drowned in worry. So all those times his masked covered face had come in to see you, bloody and bruised while you fixed him up, it was all him. He could die, you told him. Why would he do this to himself?

"I haven't been good all my life," He groaned while you pressed a damp cloth to his wound one night. "I think of all this as repentance for being a shocking moron in my earlier years."

"There are other ways to repent. Like donating to charity or some confession booth at a church. Not some...Not risking your life." You could barely look at him, tears brimming your eyes and threatening to fall while it clouded your vision. 

"I'm not religious." Miguel replies. "It wouldn't mean anything with these in my body now. They'd probably still send me to Hell regardless." He lifts his hand, his talons auto extracting from his fingertips and he feels the bile from his stomach stir, an urge to vomit at the disgust of himself.

He forces his talons back into his fingertips so he could tilt your chin up to face him. His thumb caressed your cheek to wipe off a stray tear that had fallen. "I'm sorry I put this all on you." He whispers.

You shake your head. "You're stupid, I always knew that," You sniffle and Miguel bites his cheek so he doesn't smile. "But I could help you better now. I...I know who you are and everything makes sense now, we could-"

Miguel stops you by shushing you. "No, no, no. You're not helping me anymore." Your heart drops again.

"What do you mean?"

"This is the last time we'll see each other."

Your jaw drops this time. Eyes that widened in shock now turn to anger. "Shock, Miguel. I knew you were an asshole but breaking up with me after revealing your secret identity to me has got to be one of the lowest things you're doing."

You lean away from him, bloodied and dried cloth thrown at his chest. "I was useful when you could just pop in whenever? No strings attached–was it fun?" You scoff in hurt.

Miguel grits his teeth. "No, carajo, it's-it's me-"

"Don't bullshit me Miguel with that it's not you, it's me rhetoric." You cross your arms tightly to your chest.

"It's dangerous!" He barks back.

"Like it wasn't dangerous before?" 

"It was! That's why I can't come back! I can't let myself lead them to you!" Miguel sits up and grabs onto your shoulders tightly and gives you a firm shake. His hands shake as he holds you, his head hanging. "This...this power of mine. I...it can lead so many of those assholes to you." He whispers. "I trusted you enough to come here, which I hate myself for. I should’ve never involved you in any of this.” Miguel’s hands fall from your shoulders and down your arms to grip your hands in his. “I’ve already put you in so much danger. If you got hurt, I don’t know what I’d do.”

The feeling of his talons pricking your skin and the sight of his fangs leaking a drop of his venom made you think maybe he did know what he’d do. He would just really want to avoid it.

“Miggy,” You say softly. “How about you let me make that choice? Now that I know, it doesn’t scare me. Do you know why?” You take your right hand out his grip to cup his cheek. His tired eyes look up to yours, nostril dried with blood and a scar on his forehead that surely needed bandages.

“Because I know you’ll protect me. You’re Spider-Man.” You lean in closer, Miguel under your spell. “Let me help you. That’s my decision. In return, if I’m ever a damsel in distress, I hope you’ll help me.” You give him a small smile and his hand covers yours on his cheek. He squeezes your fingers. “I promise.” He swears. Miguel always kept his promises even if he stumbled on the way. So when he went to visit you after his nightly patrol, he didn’t expect to see your entire apartment in disarray. His mask phases off his head, scarlet eyes wide and panicked. He gulps down his fear, muscles tense as he steps into your room. Blankets and pillows on the floor, some slashed and stuffing being poured out the seams. Your desk that held photos of you and your friends had also fallen to the floor, glass shattered and frames broken. Miguel takes another quiet step outside of your room. Your entire living room was a mess. Your couch had been moved and cut in half, lamps cracked and more photos on the floor. His heart stops when he sees blood in the kitchen. Some of the knives had been taken and another wave of fear splashes down his spine. It was clear there had been some sort of resistance with whoever took you. Whoever took you. Who took you? Miguel feels the fear morph into rage, his mask phasing back on his head. “Lyla. Scan this place.” He growls. His AI assistant glitches into existence, her eyes behind her pink heart shaped glasses full of worry. She begins phasing in and out of different places while Miguel lets the anger fester in his body. HIs talons on his fingers and feet itch to come out, to be sharpened for whatever poor soul’s flesh he’ll rip into. His fangs seep out his paralyzing venom, his tongue licking off the excess. Lyla appears in front of him, more meek and smaller compared to her usual upbeat and sarcastic nature. She knew there was a time and a place. “The blood isn’t hers. They most likely knocked her out since there’s no trace of her own blood around. Fingerprints on the knife handle are hers. No other DNA samples could be acquired.”

Miguel walks towards the entrance of your apartment. His hand grazes the door frame that had been split apart. Lyla appears next to him. “Forced entry, probably by foot. There’s some traces of wet soil–mainly seawater. I’ve tracked several fishing ports–most in Staten Island.” She displays holograms of different spots, standing tall by his side while he skims through. “Did you find a match on the blood?” His voice rumbles. “Negative, Miguel. None in the criminal database, including The Raft. Looks like this is the work of someone new.” Miguel grows furious. He roars as he punches his hand through the already destroyed couch. Some novice wants his attention so badly, he’s willing to piss him off for it. Miguel swings out of your place and searches the entirety of Staten Island’s fishing ports until he finds the one he was looking for. You don’t know where you are but you can feel everything. A sash was wrapped tightly around your eyes, some rope or zip ties held your wrists together and your ankles to the chair you sat on. You felt the pounding of a headache when you woke up. The last thing you remembered was one of the intruders lifting his gun and slamming the barrel down on your temple. They grew tired of you after reaching into the kitchen to protect yourself. You held them off well but you were still just one person. The sash had been lifted from your eyes and you groaned when a bright light of a lamp shined in your face. While you squinted, you could make out at least three people in front of you.

“I’m sorry about my men. They’re still a little new. You know how it is when you get trainees for a new job.” The one in the middle speaks, you noticed he also is the one that took off your sash. “What the hell was the point of all this? You just kidnap random people from their homes?” You glare up at the man and his two puppets. “Streets say you’re good friends with Spidey.” One of the smirks. “Had one of these guys watch him crawl in your window like some squashed bug.” You scoff softly, rolling your side to the side. “So what?”

The man in front shrugs. “Either you’re his whore or you know him. So which is it sweetheart?” He rests his hand on the back seat of your chair and leans in close to your face. “Who is Spider-Man?”

You licks your lips and stare back up at him, choking back the stretch his breath was. “I don’t know.”

He grins. “Hm. So you’re his whore. A special one at that. He doesn’t appear in just anyone’s home so what services do you offer him in exchange for some protection? Do they apply here? Baby, I can protect you too.”

He’s sick, your mind screamed. You struggled against your restraints.

“Shock you.” You spit on his shirt and he lands a hard slap across your cheek.

He mumbles a string of curses before grabbing your chin and forcing you to face him again. “Don’t forget who’s in the shocking chair, sweetheart. Your hero ain’t here so be a doll and shut the hell up.”

Your chest heaved up and down in deep breaths to calm your scared heart. You feel your cheek stinging and it didn’t help with this rotten man’s fingers digging into your skin.

Your silence pleases him and his other hand reaches down to your knee. “I don’t wanna hurt you, sweet thing. It’s just one simple question and I’ll let you go.” He lies. His hand rides up your thigh and your leg tries to kick him away from you but he just grips you tighter. “I don’t know.” You plead hoarsely. “I know, I know. So you say.” Out of the corner of your eye you see one of his men snatched into the darkness with a clawed hand around his mouth. Miguel. The guy in front of you digs his nails deeper in your skin and you can feel the scratch. “Eyes up here, sweetheart.” You whine at the pain, pursing your lips to keep yourself quiet. “See, Spidey’s head goes for millions of dollars–money you can’t even comprehend so if you could do your community a favor of just letting us in on some intel on the son of a bitch; that’d be great.” “You wanna kill him?” You ask breathlessly, looking to the other side to see another newbie being hindered, his neck tilted to the side while some teeth bite into his flesh. His body slowly lost consciousness and was also dragged into the darkness silently. “Most of Nueva York wants that guy dead. All the ones on top but I’m dirt poor, sweetie. It’d be a disservice for the hero to not let me kill him. Shouldn't he give to the poor and needy?” He sighs, letting go of your cheek so both his hands rests on your upper thighs. You feel your skin crawling and try to move away as far as you can in your seat. “But you don’t know anything do you? Then I’d be doing a disservice by throwing out some useful goods here, don't you think?” His grimy hands grip your hips, looping his fingers around your jean belt loops. Before you could even think, the man is instantly ripped off of you by his shirt. He’s thrown back on his side, skidding as he comes to a halt. Spider-Man towers in front of you, his back facing you. You could still see the rage oozing from his suit, shoulders and muscles tense and claws out. His chest rises and falls with each jagged breath, the only sound coming out of him.

“Spider-Man!” The man growls, stumbling to get back on his feet. His pistol had slipped from the back of his jeans, sliding away from him. “Dammit–Darrell! Fernando!” He calls to his two men but he freezes. On the floor are both his associates, one’s clothes ripped apart with claw marks on his chest, the other with his jaw slacked open and two puncture holes in his neck–a strange mixture of blood and another liquid oozing from the wound. He lets out a strangled scream as he looks back up at Spider-Man. His tall frame stalks over to him but the man crawls to find his gun. Before he could grab it, Miguel stomps on the man's arm, giving a satisfying crack to his bone which the man cries out painfully. While he writhes on the concrete ground, Miguel grabs onto his broken arm and lifts him up–he screams, trying to push Miguel away. “You wanted to kill me?” Miguel growls, his voice deep and menacing. The man pleads for his life and another set of footsteps come from behind. “Shoot him!” The man yells as Miguel looks back over his shoulder. The rest of the group comes up from behind Miguel, raising–what Miguel considers pathetic–guns up to his face. The eyes on Miguel’s mask squint slightly and just as quickly, he turns with the man in his hands and uses his body to protect himself from the onslaught of bullets. The man’s entire group fires and every single bullet pierces into his body, splattering blood on the ground and Miguel’s suit. Miguel makes sure that you weren’t hit at any moment. Miguel tosses the limp corpse to the side and pounces into the group, attaching his fangs into some man’s neck while his talons ripped along his arm to let go of the rifle he was holding. Chaos ensues and they all begin shooting at one another in hopes that one shot could land on Spider-Man. Miguel’s claws ripped apart limbs and skin, every single hand that raised against you was littered to the ground. He continues to swing and jump around, letting everyone get lost in the confusion before tearing through chests and stomachs. His rage knew no bounds at the moment. He had planned to just come in secretly while he still had a part of his mind. Get in, use his venom, take you and get out. But when he saw what that scum would’ve done to you, touching you, gripping onto you–he lost his mind. Even with Lyla’s brief protest, Miguel couldn’t help but want to tear him apart. So he did.

It wasn’t often Miguel had to be reduced to such measures but everyone had their limits. By the time it was over, he barely noticed how silent it had become. His ears were still ringing, he felt like he was underwater as he gulped in heaps of air. “Miguel!” He hears Lyla yell at him. He snaps his head to where he heard her voice, blind rage melting when he sees you still in the chair. He sees Lyla with her arms crossed, her little foot tapping angrily in mid-air. Lyla had done her best to cover your sight and hearing of the crime Miguel had done with holograms of whatever–surely it was much nicer than watching Miguel gnaw off a piece of someone’s throat. Miguel glances at his hands stained and dripping with blood. He wipes them on his legs, hoping to get it off him before you could see. He falls to his knees in front of you with a soft whine of your name and his mask phases off. “Lyla, blur the room.” Lyla does as told and lets you see him. Your eyes are concerned and scared. “Miggy…” You whisper, feeling the trauma set in. “I’m here, I’m here–I told you I’d protect you, yeah?” Miguel uses his talons to cut off the zip ties from your wrists and ankles that were digging in your skin. Once you were free, you wrapped your arms around his neck and jumped into his arms. Miguel fell back but made sure to hug you back, his arms going around your waist while his other arm went up to cradle your head. He buried himself in your shoulder, breathing in the mixture of your natural scent and the scent of the man. He growled and held you tighter. He’d do something about that smell.

“I was so scared–I didn’t know what to do–How did you find me?” You babbled as you finally felt safe enough to sob and cry. “Don’t worry about that. You’re safe. You’re okay.” Miguel reassures you, kissing your temple and cheek, pulling away gently to brush your messy hair away from your face. He wipes your tears with the back of his hand, unintentionally leaving a bloody mark. “Shit..” He mumbles, ashamed and pulls his hand away. You stop him, holding his hand back to your cheek. You just wanted to feel him, his warmth. You weren’t stupid. You knew what happened when Lyla put up holograms that blurred what you weren’t supposed to see. You didn’t care. May they rot. “Thank you.” You whimpered. “Thank you.” Miguel presses a kiss to your forehead. “Always. I’ll take you home.” “But, my apartment–” You try to speak as Miguel moves to hold your body in one hand while he swings on his web with the other. “Not your apartment. Mine. My penthouse. I’m never leaving you out of my sight again.” Your arms were securely around his neck. He was still tense but much less before. You tried to look back down but he squeezed you tighter– he didn’t want you to see.

For tonight, he’d take care of you just like all those nights you took care of him.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"SNATCHED PURSE AND RAN," Montreal Gazette. January 22, 1913. Page 3. --- Arrest of Two Boys Who Are Alleged Thieves. ---- Two young fellows, who are alleged to have stolen a purse containing nine dollars from Mrs. Lambert Villeneuve, 1647 St. Dominique street, αι noon Monday at the corner of Villeneuve and St. Dominique streets, and who are thought to have been connected with other robberies committed in the north end of the city, were arrested yesterday morning and locked up at the Laurier avenue police station. They are Rosario Cyr, 22 years of age, 1367 St. Lawrence street and Orphila Dupont, 21 years of age, 1408 St. Dominique street.

Mrs. Villeneuve was on her way to a grocery store at noon Monday when her purse was snatched by two young fellows. When they got the purse. they jumped into a coal cart that was passing and urged the driver to whip up his horse and dashed up St. Dominique street. The drivers of two oth er wagons, who saw what had happened, whipped up their horses and gave chase to the coal cart. When the two young fellows who had taken Mrs. Villeneuve's purse saw that they were being pursued and overtaken. they jumped from the coal cart opposite the Church of the Infant Jesus and ran through a lane off Laurier avenue and disappeared into a lumber yard.

The driver of the coal cart at first denied knowing who the young fellow were, but finally admitted that he did, and gave their names of Cyr and Dupont to Captain Choquette of the Laurier avenue police station. He claimed he did not know they had stolen anything when they jumped on his cart and urged him to whip up his horse.

Captain Choquette put Constables Langlois and Lefleur to work on the case to try and capture the pair who had stolon the purse. They persuaded Mrs. Villeneuve to Iny complaints against Cyr and Dupont, on which warrants were issued for their arrest. The two were taken into custody at their homes yesterday morning and locked up at the Laurier avenue po lice station. This morning they will be brought up in the Arraignment Court.

The police of the Laurier avenue station claim that both the accused have bad records, and may have been implicated in other robberies that have been committed recently in the north end of the city.

[meiluu]

Tis' The Season

Peter Parker one-shot

Peter Parker/ Female Reader can be any peter :) cw: SMUT 18+ MDNI, this is basically pure filth that came to me in a dream and i had to write it, mating season *wink*, breeding kink, creampie, feral and protective peter.

*not edited*

peter pov.

When Peter got bit by that radioactive spider, then waking up in a new body, being able to do what he thought was impossible. He thought that he would be the only one in the world who was like him. But as the universe would have it, there was another.

 It had been a rather uneventful day of swinging around New York, catching would-be robbers or the occasional purse snatcher, when he had decided to take a different route back to his apartment. He didn't know why his body acted on its own accord- almost like it was possessed and on a mission. Slowing down his pace, quietly landing on the roof of a building his eyes locked onto a girl. She was carrying a couple of boxes into what Peter assumes is her new apartment. But the moment he's able to get a full look at her his spider senses are buzzing, electricity shooting down his back. 

This was a wholly new sensation, whenever his senses went off it usually indicated danger and sent his blood rushing as his body pumped adrenaline into his veins. but this- it was like a melody, a soft tune that lulled his body into a state of comfort and familiarity. It was like his body was telling him to go to her. Though embarrassingly enough Peter had been gawking at her and with his senses singing around him it was almost like they sent a message to her because in a quick motion she was looking out the window and towards peter. Thankfully enough Peter was quick enough to duck down, getting cover from the edge of the roof, shielding himself from her view. A huff left his lips, god what is wrong with me?, a multitude of thoughts ran through his head a majority of them shaming Peter for being a creep. Although a small portion of those thoughts were relishing in what they had just witnessed, She was so beautiful...

With that little encounter Peter was quick to head home, hoping to forget the weird experience. 

It was a few months later that Peter would eventually meet her again. Throughout those months Peter would always feel that same soft and comfortable feeling in the back of his mind, like she was always near him. Come to find out she had actually been following Spider-Man, but it proved more than difficult to follow the superhero. She had been essentially guessing on where he would possibly show up, hoping to get lucky and catch a chance to talk to him. Whenever y/n moved into her new apartment she had mainly locked herself up, given the drastic and terrifying changes her body was undergoing, she never got the chance to turn on her t.v. But when she did, a surge of hope blossomed within her chest. Spider-Man was the source of that hope. After doing a bit of investigating she was able to uncover that he was someone like her, maybe not bitten like her but he showcased all the things that were happening to her. And so she made it her mission to talk to him- and to hopefully find out more about herself, and to maybe make a friend along the way.

And that day finally came, after spending a couple of hours on the roof of a building where Spider-Man frequented- there he was, standing right before her. Her senses buzzed in pure happiness, and his senses were singing to him. "Hey." Peter was breathless, lost in the feeling that was coursing through him and it didn't help that she was absolutely angelic looking as the sun casted a golden glow upon her skin. "Hi." a timid voice was all she could muster, all her words becoming stuck within her throat.

And from that day onwards they become each other's salvation. Finally after coming to the conclusion that Peter would be the only one that was like him, it was a very welcomed surprise to find someone who was just like him. Your relationship started off slowly, as you both got to understand how you both were changed- answering one another questions. you both moved onto asking questions like, "Which star wars movie is your favorite?", "what’s your favorite place to get pizza?". Then one day it was, "Can I show you who I am?".

The day that Peter took off his mask was a day neither of you would forget. That day Peter felt a weight be lifted from his shoulders, no longer held back by the barrier that the mask created he could finally be with you as Peter parker. 

Slowly lifting the mask from his face, his eyes locking onto yours. Your face split into a smile so big your cheeks had started to hurt. His brown locks were messy from being underneath the mask- and he was so handsome, you were utterly lost in his visage. Peter had been slowly inching his way towards you, getting close enough to catch onto your familiar scent and warmth. Looking down at you Peter raised his free hand, gently cupping your cheek. "Can I kiss you?" his voice was nothing but whisper meant only for you. "Yes, please." your cheeks where dusted in a rosy blush, and with such care Peter leaned down enveloping your lips with his. Dropping his mask, he now has both hands cupping your face like you were made of porcelain glass. Sweet and soft lips, dance together- you lips tasting like your favorite lip-gloss. Gathering up the courage Peter tentatively bites your bottom lip, asking so sweetly for entrance. Opening your mouth your flooded by the undeniable taste of him. Unashamedly you'll admit that you and Peter spent the better part of that day making out, until the sun set behind the horizon, and only then did you both finally separate from each others embrace. And from that your relationship reached a whole new level, trust within each other bloomed and with that came love, an unfathomable amount of love for one another.

—

You and Peter had been together for a little over a year now, your bond with one another growing with each passing day- and with that growth came a new discovery. After being together for an extended amount of time your senses along with Peter's had become attuned with one another's. You could feel Peter's presence from halfway across the city, and that went for Peter as well. He would catch himself periodically checking up on you while he was swinging throughout the city. And no matter where he was he would always find his way to you, with your senses always calling out to him.

Peter had woken up this morning, turning on his side and seeing you buried within the sheets of his bed, heart swelling at the sweet sight. And like any morning he had, he got up to start his routine but something was off. His senses felt like they were in hypervigilance, with this looming feeling that he needed to secure his apartment, hairs raising and goosebumps erupting across his skin. Peter had quickly thrown on his suit and started patrolling the area around his apartment. Although Peter didn't understand why he had this need, seeing as his apartment was well protected by the many gadgets he had implemented, as well as it being high above the city in a nice area. But he followed his instincts, seeing as they have never proved him wrong before… and it wasn’t like he could ignore them. So he spent the next few hours making sure that there were no threats around his home. And like a timer going off his body completely switched its motion, senses now wholly focused on you. He needed to get home now. Quickly maneuvering through an open window, landing softly on his feet, his mind and body on a one track mission on finding you. Giving into his senses he allows his body to guide him to you.

Opening the door to his bedroom, he is immediately hit with your mouth watering scent permeating throughout the room. And with his eyes zeroing in on you he sees you webbing- his mind pauses at what he is seeing, how can you be webbing anything without his web cartridges'? Then he’s whipping his head down to his own wrists seeing how he never reloaded his web-shooters before he left this morning. How did he not notice that he was producing organic webs? But before he was able to begin his theories his mind had begun to solely focus on you, your scent and watching as you made some sort of nest. The nest so far consisted of your duvet cover, pillows, and was all being held up by your webs. A part of him wants to go up to you but the more instinctual part of him tells him to wait, telling him that what you are doing is very important and you needed all your focus upon what you were doing.

With one last pillow, Peter's senses buzz with your call- you were using your senses to communicate with him. Your hair was still untamed from sleeping all night, but you looked so beautiful right at this moment. Sitting perched in your nest eyes full of love as your senses begged Peter to come to you. And in a swift movement Peter is jumping and latching onto the ceiling crawling his way towards you. Reaching you, Peter envelopes you within his strong embrace, burying his head within the crook of your neck. mumbles of 'I love you.', 'So pretty.' , 'Smell so good.' tumble from Peters lips. You sigh at the praise, reciprocating his love tenfold.

Through the soft kisses that Peter litters across your face, reaching your mouth his tongue dives in dancing with yours. The heat within him grows. A need so strong it has him whimpering into your mouth- and it seems you are on the same page. Hurriedly discarding each other's clothes, a wave of relief floods through him, finally feeling your bare skin. "Baby-Fuck." Peter groans as his fingers get a feel of how wet you are. A needy whimper leaves your slightly swollen lips, "Peter...please, I need you so bad." Peter's entire body tenses up at your words, a near-growl rumbling from within his chest echoes around you two. Spreading your legs, giving Peter an open invitation to fuck you, and he accepts it without hesitation. Lining his aching cock that's dripping pre-cum at your cunt, only a moment later is Peter sinking into you. Satisfied noises of pleasure leave the both of you, pushing to the hilt- hips flushed with one another. Peter is leaning over, his face over yours, and his arms are snugly wrapped around your body.

Grinding his cock further into you, eyes rolling back at the feel of your walls trying to suck him in further. Another whimper of Peter's name has him losing all semblance of care as he starts at a rough and fast pace. Your cunt is warm and dripping, and with every harsh thrust of Peter's hips it has your eyes rolling into the back of your head- moans of pleasure being punched out of you with every harsh plunge of his cock. Latching onto his muscular back, trying to keep yourself grounded to him- seeing as it's not enough you twist your head to the side biting down hard into the skin where his shoulder and neck meet. A loud 'Fuck' accompanied with your name tumbles from Peter's lips. Manhandling you, Peter moves your legs to rest upon his shoulders as he latches onto the blanket and pillows around you. Fucking into you with every bit of strength within him, mind and body on the sole mission to mate you and to truly make you his. Your body in tune with his, you are spreading your legs wider as your hands latch onto Peter's backside, trying to communicate with Peter but failing as a messy jumble of words is all you can muster. But thankfully Peter catches onto your message, sliding his hand down to your backside he tilts your hips upwards towards him. Allowing him to reach so deep into you, you swear you could feel him within your throat. Thrust after thrust, you feel yourself reaching closer to euphoria, thighs quivering in anticipation as your cunt continues to dribble its arousal around Peters pistoning cock. Leaving one side of Peter's backside you snake your free hand to your clit. Rubbing hasty circles around the bundle of nerves, and not too soon later you're cumming. Cunt rhythmically squeezing around Peter's cock, begging it to fill you. A moan tumbles from Peter's lips as he feels your walls tighten around him, feeling hot pleasure roll down his back before he feels himself cumming into you. Sloppy thrusts of Peter riding out both of your highs slowly come to a stop. Breathless and flushed in residual pleasure you both gently turn to your sides, making sure to stay connected as you both come down from your highs. Exhaustion is quick to take you both, wrapped in each other's embrace, still connected as one. 

Peter doesn’t know what time it is when he wakes, all he knows is that he needs you and you need him. Maneuvering you onto your hands and knees, sinking into you. A pleasure filled moan falls from your lips, jutting your hips up giving Peter a better angle to fuck you deeper. Hips pistoning into you, latching onto the blankets around you trying to keep yourself steady with Peter's brutal thrusts. Unhappy with how far apart you are Peter is leaning forward, front to your back. Face right next to your ear. Your mind is soon flooded with the sounds of Peter's pleasure. A moan  leaves you as Peter bites down onto your shoulder, and brings one of his hands to your clit. Swirling his fingers around your bundle of nerves, your body is quick to go pliant under him. Letting him fuck and fill you to his content, your body sings in happiness when you cum around his cock and Peter is soon to follow in your lead. Warmth pools within your belly, a content smile takes over your face. And with that you are snuggling deeper into your nest, falling back asleep.

Peter huffs out a breath, slowly removing himself from your cunt. His mind is the most clear it’s been since the last time he was awake. Making sure you are secure in your bundle of blankets, Peter quietly descends from your nest, putting on a pair of sweats. Now Peters mind is trying to figure out how long you’ve both been in your nest, doing nothing else but fucking. In the haze of his memories he sees that he would periodically leave the nest to get you both feed, would fuck again and then fall asleep with you. Peter heads over to his phone, quickly doing mental math…and shit he’s been with you for nearly 5 days! But before he can stress about that fact, his senses are going into overdrive.

Someone was coming to his door. Thankfully the apartment was dark, with the only illumination being from the full moon seeping in through the curtains. Peter is jumping to the ceiling, a whirlwind of protectiveness and anger swirling within his chest. Then he hears the front door open. Using the shadows to his advantage, Peter is quietly crawling into the living room. His mind is flooding with all the ways he could kill the intruder. Looking down from the ceiling he can make out a couple of figures, voices merging together. Readying his arm, waiting until…Now! With fast and precise movements he’s webbing the intruders to the adjacent wall, but before he can web up the last intruder his mind is halted by his voice being called out. “Peter! What the hell kid!” Tony’s voice rings through his head. “Jarvis, turn on the lights.” Light floods the living room, and with it Peter is able to see Tony with his hands up in surrender. And to the adjacent wall he sees, Steve, Bucky and Sam webbed to the wall. Mind reeling at what he sees, shame floods through his body. He was going to kill them! What is wrong with him…”Kid, you need to calm down- or you're going to pass out.” Tony's voice is soothing, and with that Peters is able to realize he’s been hyperventilating. Slowly calming his breathing, he lowers his arm backing away from Tony. “What, what are you doing here?” Peter's voice is barely above a whisper. A concerned look crosses Tony’s face, “Kid you’ve been M.I.A for 5 days, we were getting worried when you didn’t respond to us.” Peter's body is slowly relaxing, “I- I’m sorry, I’ve been…busy.” Cringing internally at the word ‘busy’. “Kid, you're gonna have to give me more than just ‘busy’. We haven’t seen you in 5 days, no sight of you swinging around New York. Thank god you have Jarvis installed, because without him we wouldn’t even know if you were alive.” 

Peter's gut churns, shame and guilt swirling within him. “Can I come by the tower tomorrow, then I can explain everything.” Tony has a sympathetic look upon his face, “Peter-“ Peter soon stops listening to him when he feels his senses buzz, you are awake and you're terrified. Worried that Peter wasn’t there when you awoke to what sounded like a fight going on in the living room. Whipping his head to the bedroom, he tries to communicate that you needed to stay in the bedroom. Then in the corner of his eye he sees Tony moving towards him- getting closer to you. “No! Stay back, don’t take another step.” Shock mars Tony’s features, Peter had growled out his words. They were nothing short of a command, his face was painted in anger and fierce protectiveness. Arms ready to web him to the wall. “Kid! I’m not gonna hurt you.” 

“I know that but I can’t let you get closer to her, you guys need to leave. Please..” Tony takes a moment before nodding his hand and then makes his way to the others that have been stuck to the wall this entire time. Quickly cutting them free, Peter watches as they eventually leave, now his body can finally truly relax. Shoulders slumping in relief. But that relief is short lived with the weight of what he was supposed to do now.

How in the world was he going to explain this Tony and to you now that you’re awake?!

[grimeclown]

One of the great comceits of superhero media is this idea, though, of "sometimes you have to work outside of the system to enact change" but so many of them interpret that as "we need cops who are willing to break the law." Theres this odd philosophical no-mans-land in much of it. Where the hero simply cannot trust the police to get things done. But at the end of the day batman is still going to drop the joker into the hands of a punitive system that only makes the barest pretense of wanting to rehabilitate. Spiderman is all too happy to leave purse snatchers and supervillains alike tied up in webs at the front of the police station. This is considered the ultimate end goal of vigilante work, is to deliver these "criminals" to "justice" even as they acknowledge that justice cannot be carried out by the police.

[motherfuckingmaneater]

Book Bellatrix is (part one):

Very tall. Taller than all three of the trio according to Harry when Hermione uses polyjuice to turn into her.

Quick. She’s able to stun four snatchers at once even when they’re in an uproar against her. They all ‘fell where they stood’ suggesting they didn’t even have time to stop her. Greyback is also restricted before he can even try to stop her and bound and kneeling at her feet.

Still very attractive after Azkaban again according to Harry despite that she makes his stomach lurch every time he looks at her.

Has ‘very long rippling black hair’ that’s not curly. It’s still rippling but now it’s become slightly coarse rather than silken and shiny like it was before Azkaban.

Bloodthirstier. She interrogates Griphook and when she’s satisfied with his answer she casually flicks her wand to cut him deep in the face then doesn’t even look back at him as he falls to his knees and screams in agony.

Thin. Not gaunt looking like she was right after her release from Azkaban but that’s part of why she’s so intimidating. She’s tall and thin.

Violent. She hit Ron across the face (just to get him to shut up) so hard his mouth was filled with blood and the sound was so loud it echoed around the room. She’s so violent it seems second nature.

Low (almost sultry) and disdainful in her baritone / voice. I always read her lines in Angelina’s Maleficent voice.

Not thin lipped! Just puts her lips into a line or purses her lips from time to time.

Feared and revered even amongst the goblins of gringots who ‘do not get involved in wizarding issues’.

Has an outright ‘malevolent aura’. So much so she’s never questioned or affronted. All along Diagon alley people were quickly stealing away from her to hide, too terrified of her to stick around.

Known to be closest to Voldemort even in public and non-pureblood circles.

Terrifying. She’s described as ‘frightening, mad’ when she’s screaming orders — so much so even her own sister who had been reluctant to do as she wants does so anyway. Even Fenrir Greyback is scared of her. When she finally releases him he ‘appeared too weary to approach her’ and would rather ‘prowl behind an armchair’ than get too close to Bellatrix.

Physically strong. Certainly strong enough to drag Hermione by her hair into the middle of the room. Strong enough to throw off Lucius’ attempt to grasp her and capture him herself in her grasp.

Ruthless. ‘If she dies under questioning, I’ll take you next. Blood traitor is next to mudblood in my book.’ Something she tells Ron after she’s hit him. She’s also incredibly calm when she’s being violent or hurting people. She doesn’t think twice on it.

A natural leader. She takes charge in most situations. She gives orders easily and she doesn’t care who she’s giving them to. She tells Draco to ‘move this scum outside. If you haven’t got the guts to finish them then leave them in the courtyard for me.’ When indicating to the snatchers she left unconscious.

[lurkingshan]

I really liked the first episode of Reverse 4 You

SISTERS! I love that Vivi is our narrator, and that she and Jattawa have a close bond. They feel very much like real sisters.

The time bending powers are very cool, and I love that the opposite powers suit their personalities: Jattawa is our hard working eldest taking responsibility for everything, so she has the ability to rewind for short-term do-overs, while Vivi is our optimistic dreamer, so she can see into the near future.

I like that Wa quickly settled in to a friend group at university. Top is an angel, though I am wary of Khun because he is giving me big second lead vibes. I don’t want to watch a dude pine and cause trouble for a budding lesbian relationship, praying he stays cool.

Speaking of a budding lesbian relationship, I’m not really into Four yet, though I don’t think I’m supposed to be. I’m sure there’s a backstory that will tell us why she’s so mean all the time. I wonder if she actually lives in that house where she accepted the food delivery.

Shoutout to the elder lesbian Wa rescued from the purse snatcher, I think she’ll be coming back as a mentor. I also appreciated the helpful uncle.

The nerve of those men trying to sell their house out from under them! I need all the details on why these sisters live alone, their financial situation, and how we’re going to fix this.

I am absolutely seated for this one. I’m really excited to have a gl drama available worldwide on Netflix—everyone should watch!

[artbyblastweave]

ask game; Victoria Dallon, aka Glory Girl aka Antares

I've always thought that Victoria's first appearance is quite the bit of deft needle-threading.

The thing about Interlude 2 is that Vicky is our first example of one of this setting's established heroes actively fighting crime- not just swooping in to vulture up the accomplishments of an up-and-comer- and a therefore a major goal of the sequence is to ensure that the audience comes away structurally unnerved by what counts as business as usual for the heroes, set the stage for the hurricane of ass-covering to come. So we have a sequence where she lords her power over a baseline criminal who has no realistic chance to fight back or get away, where she cripples and nearly kills him in a display of excessive force, where she uses her connections to other capes to duck out on the consequences of her excess once she realizes that she's crossed certain moral and optical Rubicons. All of this is gross, all of this speaks to an alarmingly cavalier attitude amongst even the most ostensibly accountable heroes. And from a protagonistic perspective, all of this serves to soften the blow of Taylor's actions at the bank in act three, because we're predisposed to see Vicky as an arrogant, overprivileged loose cannon who'd actually have a significantly higher body count than all of the Undersiders put together if not for the cushion afforded to her by her status as a superhero. A golden child up against the already put-upon underdog.

But. She also does all of that to a Neo-Nazi, who was fresh off committing a hate crime. I mean, if this was violence against a purse-snatcher, a drug-dealer- It would be very, very easy to block this sequence in a way that would set her up as a villain and nothing else for the rest of the work. In The Boys, for example, Homelander debuts by incinerating one bank robber's hand and throwing another a thousand feet into the air to land hard on a parked car, and the dissonance between that casual brutality and his chumminess with the onlookers is the thematic backbone for... basically the entire show, because he was in such total control of the situation that the only reason to do it that way is that he fundamentally doesn't care. In Super Crooks, it's made abundantly clear that the superheroes trying to arrest the titular supervillains are significantly more destructive to the city than the villains are, because their institutional backing removes any incentive to do anything but pursue the flashiest arrests possible for the sake of ratings. But Glory Girl? She's a sixteen year old putting her money where her mouth is on the unconsidered-dilettante suburban-left-ish tumblrite rallying cry of punching a Nazi. She's living out a near-boilerplate superheroic fantasy of righteous violence against an uncomplicatedly righteous target- likely a fantasy entertained at least once by the median cape fan, if we're being honest- and then, in the aftermath, blood on her hands and on the pavement, staring down the full weight of the prospect of actually having killed a person in an unconsidered spate of rage, is very much a panicked teenager about it, scrambling for a way to walk it back.

Which, independent of the specifics of whether this particular asshole had it coming, is the problematic element of this that generalizes- that superheroism in this world is a system that puts the social license to use concrete-shattering power in the hands of a kid with the judgement and attitude of someone scheming up ways to dodge curfew. She's done this before, she's gonna keep doing this, she's gonna keep being two-faced about it with her public-facing golden-girl image. But she wasn't wrong to be angry. And the fact that this is the kind of thing she gets angry about is hard to separate from later beats where she tries to do right by people, hard to separate from her willingness to put herself on the line against Endbringers and the Slaughterhouse 9. It's a bad situation, a horrible system that's guaranteed to incentivize bad behavior, they shouldn't be assigning any of this shit to a 17-year-old. But later on, when things go south for her, the seeds are planted so that she can retain audience sympathy in a way that she likely wouldn't be able to if this story was a banal hatswap, with unfairly maligned "villains" who do no real wrong against supervillains who happen to call themselves superheroes.

[hobvitr]

Gwen x fem reader but where the reader is also a spiderhero? Pretty please

gwen stacy x spider!reader

fem!reader

genre/warnings: fluff, friends to lovers, i wrote this sleepy i hope it's decent and I don't remember other warnings idk and i wrote it listening to wicked game by chris isaak (so good

note: thank you for your request! I'm sorry i didn't explored the fact of reader being a spiderhero :( if you want one like this specifically please tell me!! hope you like it <3

sinopses: you like your best friend, could it be mutual? actually you're too afraid to find out and instead of confessing you surprise gwen with a gift

for a unknown reason, the patrolling on your city was chill, boring even. you swing between the buildings, analysing every alley you pass by, and nothing was going on, making you stop and sit at a rooftop to look at the horizon. you were feeling lonely lately. gwen was busy with some mission miguel gave her, and you were just taking care of your people.

you missed her, more than you should as the last time you've seen each other was like, 4 days ago, but time was passing agonizingly slow, making you anguished for not being able to talk to your best friend who you liked more than one.. but no one has to know it, right? as long as it stay a secret, your friendship with gwen is safe. but it's not a secret, at least not for hobie, and pavitr, not even for miles. but hobie was the first one to notice your lovesick stares and smiles. you couldn't help to not develop feelings after knowing gwen for almost two years.

just as the thought of her intoxicated your mind, a blip from your watch make you jump a little, taken by surprise, and it's her calling. you quickly adjust your hair looking more presentable. "hey!" you say as you answer the call.

"hey pretty" she replies, with a soft smile on her lips. "what's up? are you busy?" she asks, making your heartbeat increase with just her voice and the thought of being with her again.

"no! no... i'm agonizingly bored, actually" you chuckle, a little embarrassed she was so busy these days and you basically did nothing but chill and punch some purse snatchers. "i miss you, y'know.." you say out of the blue, you couldn't help yourself.

she smiled and you could almost see a tint blush on her cheeks, before the call ended. you were left with just the wind, strands of hair flying with it. you low your head, chuckling humorless at your stupid statement, starting to regret it.

"no need to say more" you heard from behind, making you turn around to see gwen standing, taking off her mask as she smiles adoringly at you. "i missed you too..." she stated, voice a little lower, like she was shy to admit it.

you are quick to stand up and hug her, burying your face on her neck. you feel her tense up at your touch, but seconds after she relaxes and hug you even thighter. you could be like that for days, inhaling her scent and feeling the warmth of her embrace.

before what felt like a amount of time, you shyly back up from the hug, taking a good look at her face tinted with redness. "sorry, i got a bit carried away" you say, breaking eye contact. she mentally thanked you didn't get to see her face got even redder. "why would you be sorry?" she said with a giggle, bumping your shoulder with hers.

you two got a minute staring at the view of the city lighting up with the street lights, as the sun was already set. it was a beautiful view you got to see everyday, but today it looked even prettier, maybe because you have gwen with you.

"actually, i want to take you somewhere" you are quick to take her hand on yours, guiding her to your left side, letting go when you jumped between more buildings. "follow me!" you shouted, voice filled with joy. she obliged and jumped right behind you, shortly joining your side. "what do you got for me, hm?" she asked, her silhouette being hugged by the city lights, making her looks even more heavenly.

"can't tell, or it'll ruin the surprise" you giggled after stating, getting faster to where you were taking gwen. it didn't took long until you two got at what looked like an abandoned place. you quickly got to the ground, gwen following you shortly after.

"excuse me lady, are you trying to kidnap me?" gwen asked playfully, looking at the façade of the building. "I don't know... am i?" you furrow your eyebrows with a grin on your lips. "come on, you can run if you don't like it"

leading the way, you go inside the building, it really was abandoned, but gwen didn't doubt your choice of place, continuing to follow you inside one of the rooms. you opened the door, waiting for her to pass beside you. "i was exploring around here and i found out it was an instruments store... they didn't take eeeeverything.. so i kinda made you a drum"

okay, it wasn't the best instrument ever because first, you didn't know shit about drums and second, it was all different parts of different drums, but with a little help from internet you were able to make a playable one. gwen was silent for a moment, making you look at her and she was completely mesmerized.

"no way, y/n. no way-" she looked at you, her eyes were shining, and your heart started racing so fucking fast- next thing you felt was a crashing encounter of lips. your eyes widened as you realized what was happening. gwen just kissed you. gwen was kissing you right now. your mind started to work again as you kissed her back, your hands going to rest on her waist.

it was a quick kiss, as she leaned back, afraid of making eye contact, looking at the drums. you continued to look at her, hands still resting on her waist. "gwen" you called. still silence and no eye contact. you were burning inside, so scared it might end everything right here, right now. "gwe-"

"i think i've fallen so hard for you" she was now looking directly at you, her voice so soothing and sincere you almost passed out right on. "i'm sorry for kissing you so suddenly and i- i get it.. if you don't feel the same but i- it is the sweetest thing anyone have ever did for me-"

now it was you who kissed her. both hands going to hold her face, the kiss so filled with passion and softness. she instantly reciprocate, letting her arms hold around you in a warm hug. this one kiss was more comfortable and confident, and as it finished you hugged her almost instantly.

"thank you, really" she said, voice muffled in the hug. you nodded while giggling, proud of your creation. "will you teach me how to play it?" you asked playfully, but not entirely, as you were really interested on how gwen played such a complex instrument.

"what if i don't?" she teases, chuckling. "then I'm not giving it to you!" you state while laughing.

"too late!" she finally got off your hold to sit on the stool and get the old drumsticks laying on the floor. "that next song is for my girl" she playfully said as if she was in some concert, poiting at you, then she started playing and humming head over heels. oh she's going to kill you, but first you joined her to sing the lyrics.