#you know there are people who remember what it was like before and complain in line about it

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: Lloyd Hansen

Summary: It's your first week on the job and you find yourself having to deal with a very angry higher up.

Warnings: Power imbalance, Yelling. Please let me know if I missed any.

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

"For the last time, Hansen, NO! We have these regulations for a reason." Levinson was yet again regretting hiring Lloyd. There's no denying the man got results but were the results worth the cost of dealing with the man? He'll have to get some of his analysts take a look. He doesn't even have to ask and he knows Raymond, his assistant, has made note to ask them.

"It's a bullshit regulation," Lloyd argues. "There's one IT person who can work with me, why the hell wouldn't they be the one to go with me on this trip? You've always been okay with us bringing some tech head in case our company electronics have problems."

"Yes, but that's for experienced tech employees," Jonathan intervenes. "This young lady has been working with us for only a few weeks. She is very skilled, yes, but---"

"And she's the only one of your team that isn't a pompous ass," Lloyd sneers. Ari, Jonathan and Raymond all give him a look. "Yeah, I know I'm a pompous ass. It's why I don't work well with those other assholes."

Ari sighs, "still, we can't have such a new employee going on a trip. You're going to take a more experienced IT member or you will take no one."

Lloyd huffs before stomping out of the CEO's office.

The project for the CFO is taking up a lot of your time but you're grateful for having something to focus on between tickets. Working with people was never your strong suit and those tickets can be draining.

Except for the ones from Hansen, funny enough. While you understand why others don't like to work with him, you're grateful that he leaves you be. He doesn't pester you with questions or offer advice that you have to pretend is good. He doesn't talk about his life's story or complain about "technology these days" that you have to half listen to so as not to appear rude. He lets you work, get in the zone, and you can get the ticket completed without feeling drained afterwards.

He seems like the naturally loud and demanding type so the fact that he's quiet when you work really means something to you. And he always follows it up with praising your work. The nickname "Maestro" seems to have stuck with the rest of the IT crew and it's really helped you feel more like you belong. You're genuinely grateful to Lloyd for that.

Almost as if your thoughts made him manifest, Lloyd enters your cubicle and sets his laptop next to you.

"Hey there, Maestro," Lloyd smiles. "My laptop is acting up. Take a look at it for me, will ya?"

"Um, Mr. Hansen, Sir, did you submit a ticket?"

Lloyd's smile drops. "If I did that, it might not get assigned to you. This way we can work around that requirement and spend some more time together."

"I'm, I'm sorry, Sir," you shake your head. "You have to submit the ticket. It's regulation."

"What the hell is with everyone and these damn regulations?!"

"I could get in trouble, Sir," you explain. "If I fix your laptop without submitting a ticket, that's work time that I can't account for. In other cases, Sir, if something goes wrong with company property, they need to know who was responsible for fixing it. If I fix your laptop but the fix doesn't work, there's a gap in that item's history that could throw off future updates. I really don't want to get in trouble, Mr. Hansen." You look up at him, eyes pleading.

He sighs, "well, can't have a good girl like you getting in trouble on my account, huh?" You try to hide your reaction to being called a good girl but Lloyd gives you a look before grinning at you. "Did you like that?" His voice is low and he brings himself to your level so he's right next to your ear. "Do you like being a good girl?"

"Y-yes, Sir," you confess.

He chuckles, "I'll remember that, Maestro." He grabs his laptop and gives you a wink before sauntering out.

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory;

@late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ozwriterchick; @ronearoundblindly; @lokislady82

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

i hope you're having a lovely day, blusy!!

can you write about donna and reader having drunk sex and donna was so wild that night that angie, who was sleeping in the room next door, was traumatized. she complained about it the next day but the two can't remember anything because of how drunk they were. and basically reader and donna tried to make up to her by showering her with gifts and doing anything she requests them to do.

angie thought that was the end of it but they did it again the next day 😭 can you make the making-up-to-angie part fluffy? i love your works!!

Yesss!!!! Thank you for your kindness and for your request!!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :))))))

Angie's revenge

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of explicit smut, Minors DNI, alcohol, fluff

Word count: 7,332

Summary: Maybe to drink that liquor wasn't a good idea...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

“I'm afraid you'll have to be a little more specific…” the Duke murmured with that arrogant, third-rate merchant voice.

“If I had a clear idea I wouldn't be asking you, would I?” you said, always watching the door to avoid prying eyes behind it.

“You said you wanted something special and that is a very… abstract concept,” the merchant said with a smug smile.

“Mm, I'm sure what you want is information,” you whispered with a confident look, crossing your arms.

“Information? No, Miss, how can you think something like that?” the Duke said, shaking his head but not removing that horrible smile from his horrible face.

You sighed, rolling your eyes without stopping looking around.

“Okay,” you said, defeated, lowering the tone of your voice. “Tonight marks one year since I've been living with Donna and I wanted to celebrate it with a special dinner,” you explained with an angry hiss.

 Of course, giving information about your private life to that man was the last thing you wanted to do at that moment.

“Oh, a romantic dinner?” the Duke asked, arching his eyebrows unpleasantly.

“No, it's a dinner to look into our eyes and tell us how much we hate each other,” you said ironically, shaking your head. “Of course it's a romantic dinner.”

The Duke laughed scandalously, satisfied with your embarrassment.

“I've always valued people who master the subtle art of sarcasm,” he commented, with a curious look. “It's not very common around here.”

“Yeah, okay, great,” you growled, clenching your fists. “Well, if you value it that much, please help me.”

“I still don't know what you're looking for,” he repeated, with a dark look of satisfaction.

“You know what? I was planning on spending a lot of lei, but I think some nice words will do the trick,” you said in a cocky tone, taking the rest of the order and walking towards the entrance.

“Words are carried away by the wind, Miss (Y/N),” the Duke intervened, visibly nervous, as always when money was mentioned.

“Yes, yes, you can’t be. You can rest assured,” you joked in a disinterested way.

“You're so funny,” the merchant said, laughing. “It’s a pity because I just remembered that I had something special around here.”

“You'd sell your mother for a handful of coins,” you grumbled, leaving the boxes back on the floor.

“Mother? Well, I can't say if your statement is correct since I don't remember if I ever had a mother,” the Duke said, rummaging through his carriage. “Let's see...”

“Something special,” you said with an impatient voice, looking at the old clock in the hall. It wasn't long before Donna came up from the workshop, you'd have to be quick.

“Something special,” the fat man repeated, grabbing a bottle. “I think this is what you’re looking for,” he said finally, extending that bottle with a yellow liquid.

You frowned and took the object, moving it to agitate the liquid inside.

“What is this?” you asked curiously, removing the cork from the bottle and bringing it to your nose. “Lemonade?”

“Not exactly, Miss,” the Duke said, raising and lowering his eyebrows. “Smell it.”

“Ugh,” you said wrinkling your nose when the alcohol traveled through your airways. “Liquor”

“Not just any liquor, dear,” the merchant murmured, moving in the carriage. “Limoncello.”

“Lemon what?” you asked, covering up that pleasant smell again.

“It's a traditional Italian lemon-based liquor, it was Mister Beneviento's favorite,” he commented, watching satisfied as you nodded slowly. “I think it's perfect to make that dinner… A little more special.”

“Yes, maybe,” you said with a murmur. Well, at least it was something. “See how it wasn't that difficult?” you joked, throwing that greedy being another bag of coins.

“If it was difficult for me to do business, I would have dedicated myself to something different, don't you think?” the Duke laughed, amused, counting the coins.

“I don't intend to thank you,” you said with a cocky voice. “Seriously, why do you want so much money?”

“I like money,” the man answered, amused.

“Yeah, okay, great, great...” you murmured, shaking your head and turning slowly. “Well, you can go now.”

“One last thing, Miss...” he commented as he turned the carriage, bringing his eyes to the bottle of liquor. “Be very careful with that, don't drink too much...”

“Yes, yes, yes…” you sighed, nodding reluctantly and entering the mansion, ignoring the merchant's sinister laughter. “Damn, I'm starting to think that Donna only wants me to negotiate with this vermin.”

“Don't say that, tesoro,” a hoarse voice interrupted your stammering and protests. The lady in black was waiting standing in front of you. As always when she appeared, your lips could only smile.

“Oh, Donna, don't look, don't look,” you said, hiding the bottle and walking towards her, comically covering her eye as you walked. “That's it… Straight ahead, watch out for the door,” you said amused, guiding the blind lady towards the hallway.

“What are you up to, (Y/N)?” she asked amused.

You put on your best innocent face and shrugged.

“Nothing, nothing…” you said amused, putting the bottle in one of the boxes and picking them up from the floor. “I'll go to put the groceries in the kitchen… Wait for me here.”

The lady in black laughed shyly as she watched you with that face you fell in love with, that beautiful and wounded face that for you, was the most beautiful.

They always told you that time passed quickly, without mercy, without letting you enjoy every moment. You never believed it.

You thought that time was just a transit, something that had no remedy, that became slow and lazy to make you feel even more sadness and apathy. They were right. A year used to be long. It used to take its time to pass before your eyes but… That year, that precise year, passed like a shooting star.

You were never anyone special, daughter of farmers, devotee of the Black Gods and Mother Miranda (you didn’t have another option either). Your life passed slowly, showing you the darkest side of it, the desperation of not being understood, the construction of your friends' lives, something you couldn’t do.

You had different interests. Marrying a lout and starting a family was certainly not among your priorities. You just wanted to find someone with whom you could share your disagreement with the established order, someone who, like you, didn’t see life as a gift from the Black Gods, but as a slow and tedious sentence.

But one day, the day when your clumsiness made you stumble upon the worst possible person, that day, you wished time would stop.

You were not alien to the Lords, or to Mother Miranda. They were shadows that lived with the villagers as a potential and imminent danger, even though the witch assured that they were only there to take care of you. You never believed that nonsense, you knew that the danger resided in each of the four Lords.

That woman you stumbled upon was one of them, the youngest, the most mysterious Lord, the ventriloquist, the doll maker, Donna Beneviento.

No one knew much about that woman, many even refused to look at her as a human being, it was rumored that beneath that dress, that black veil, there was a monster, a monster on the outside and on the inside. Suffering from mental illness since birth, Lady Beneviento became an even darker shadow, one that could hide the brightest sun.

With everything in your mind, your legs began to shake and you started to think that just getting in her way would mean an eternity of suffering. It wasn't like that.

Your innocent smile and the wit you were blessed with caught her attention enough to not want to kill you. She wasn't the only one who saw something in you, you did too.

A soul mate, destiny… You couldn't really say why during a conversation your lips met, why that veil disappeared to reveal the true meaning of beauty, of love.

It had been a year since that kiss turned life into something wonderful for you. You stopped being the simple (Y/N) to live with her in that incredible, secluded mansion.

Living with Donna (and Angie) was a challenge that you overcame little by little. Her shadows, her torments played with your feelings but you never cared, you would always take care of her, and she of you.

There was no monster under the black cloth, but a beautiful and tender woman, dangerous but loving, an incredible woman who little by little became the woman of your life.

That night was definitely special, it was the celebration of that year with her, of the time you had spent loving her more and more each day.

“More wine, tesoro?” the lady in black asked, romantically illuminated by the candlelight. You nodded pleased, extending your glass towards the lady.

“Everything was delicious, Donna,” you sighed grateful for that special dinner. She looked at you and smiled sheepishly, shaking her head.

“There's no need to be accommodating, (Y/N), you tell me that every night,” she whispered, sighing almost as if it were your first date.

“Oh, well…” you joked, arching your eyebrows. “I guess it's already a habit.”

“I, I can't believe you've been with me for a year,” the lady commented, with a slightly sadder look, with the shadows of her demons surrounding her like merciless crows. “I just find it hard to believe.”

“Why? I love you, you make me happy… Why wouldn't I want to be with you for 50 or better, 70 more years? 100?” you said amused, pretending a thoughtful look.

Donna's soft laugh reached your ears, increasing the intensity of your smile, the brightness of your eyes.

“I don't understand,” she said, sighing again, bringing her glass of wine to her lips. “You're a beautiful girl. You shouldn't waste your time with me.”

“Are you kidding?” you asked, dispelling her insecurities in a subtle way. “You're a Lord, you're beautiful... You say beautiful Italian things to me...”

She shook her head, without making her tender smile disappear.

“I don't think these are enough reasons,” the lady in black murmured.

You, fearing a possible tense moment, reached out your hand to hers, caressing it gently.

“Hey, honey... I love you, do you hear me? I love you just the way you are...” you whispered romantically, seeing how the lady had trouble controlling the sadness, the desperation for how unfair life was to her.

“(Y/N), me… Me too,” Donna said, blinking erratically, slowly regaining her composure and relaxing her breathing, which was already beginning to become dangerously labored.

“Me too!” an annoying squeak made you pull your hand back, startling you.

Of course, of course, Angie couldn't leave you two alone at a special romantic dinner. Seriously, she couldn't.

“Angie…” you groaned, annoyed by that interruption.

“Ohhhh, is that a cheesecake?” the doll asked, comically peeking over the table.

“Angie, leave us alone, will you?” the lady said, annoyed by the lack of soft caresses on her hand.

“You're always alone!” the puppet protested, with an unpleasant squeak. “Donna, Donna, do you even remember that I exist too?”

“Yes, Angie,” the doll maker said, shaking her head. “But now is not the time.”

“So when is it? You’re neglecting me! Bad Donna, Silly Donna!” Angie shrieked again.

You rolled your eyes and picked up your piece of dessert, trying hard to ignore the doll.

Luckily, Angie seemed to get tired of you two and disappeared with a comical grumble, which made you genuinely laugh.

“She’s mad…” you joked.

“She’ll get over it,” she said.

“Oh, that's right,” you said, clapping your hands and searching for something under the table, something you had hidden. “Look what I have.”

“Mm?” the lady murmured, reaching out her hand to take the bottle and look at it carefully. “What is it?”

“I think you know…” you said in an expectant tone, raising and lowering your eyebrows. “Open the cap.”

Donna obeyed and smiled in a tender way, as if that citrus aroma reminded her of better times, times gone by.

“Limoncello…” she said in a low voice. “My father used to drink it after eating… It brings back memories to me…”

“Good memories? Please, tell me I haven't made a mistake…” you sighed, hoping that the nostalgia wasn't dangerous, that it was a healthy one.

The doll maker seemed calm, test passed.

“You had a great idea, tesoro… Let me go to get some iced glasses,” she said, standing up and leaning towards you to kiss your lips softly, with that softness that made you tremble.

“Okay,” you said smiling, enjoying a soft caress on your cheek.

The liquor went down your throat in a cool, pleasant way. You had to admit that the Duke had a great idea, Donna seemed happy.

Glass after glass, the conversation moved to your reading corner. A conversation full of words of love, of shy laughs, one that pleasantly reminded you of your first dates.

“Hey, give me another one,” you said amused, extending the small glass towards the brunette, who frowned with a smile and slightly blushed cheeks.

“It's the fourth one, amore mio…” she stammered, pouring you another drink, slurring her words.

“How many have you had?” you asked playfully, giving her a little teasing nudge as she frowned and counted on her fingers.

“Quattro…” she muttered in confusion, shaking her head. “I, I guess it’s not too much.”

“No,” you said laughing, hiccupping unintentionally. “But maybe we should calm down a bit… How strong is this?”

The lady shrugged in a playful pose as you leaned back on the couch, blinking seductively.

“Donna…” you purred, running a finger along her skin erratically, tickling her. “You know what? You look hot today…”

“(Y/N)…” she sighed with a shy smile, sipping from her glass.

“What? Can't I say that my girlfriend is hot?” you protested jokingly, pretending to pout.

It was becoming easier for you to joke or say exactly what you thought, was it because of the liquor?

“Girlfriend?” Donna asked, turning quickly, her face revealing her incipient drunkenness. “Are you my… Girlfriend?”

“Yes…” you said, dragging your voice. “What else would I be? Your maid?”

Donna laughed strangely, shaking her head with a mischievous look.

“I want to tell you a secret…” she whispered, gesturing for you to come closer to her. The smell of alcohol was becoming more and more present in the living room, in that small corner.

 “Oh, a secret…” you said amused, hiccupping. “What secret?”

Donna bit her lip before speaking, covering your ear with her hot breath, one that paradoxically made you shiver.

“I wish you were my maid,” she whispered with a too marked accent, as if searching for words or controlling her language was being a bit difficult for her.

“Mmm,” you moaned sensually, looking into the lady's bright eye and positioning yourself on the couch on your knees, playfully. “Maid, huh?”

“Yes,” the lady said, nodding and playing with your hand, which wandered erratically over her body, playing with the buttons of her dress. “Maids have always turned me on…”

“Hey, Donna!” you said with an exaggerated squeal, surprised by that confession. “Wait, really?”

She faked an innocent face, a good girl look that clashed with that erotic statement.

“Well, well, so the liquor makes you say those things…” you purred again, with an overwhelming heat that made your clothes start to annoy you. “Well, let's drink…”

You awkwardly reached out to reach the bottle and poured two more glasses, which you drank at the same time, in one gulp, letting your throat get even more accustomed to that liquor.

“Come on, come on, keep telling me your fantasies with maids…” you said pushing the lady and climbing on top of her body, with both legs on either side of her hips. “If I were your maid… What would you do to me?”

“Oh, no, I don't want to, hic, be rude,” she said, shaking her head and hiccupping in the same way as you.

You glanced at the bottle, which barely had any of its contents left. Had you gone too far?

“Rude? Come on, tell me, tell me,” you insisted, moving up and down her body. “Look…” you said, keeping your back straight clumsily, raising your index finger and trying to focus your vision. “If you tell me, I’ll, hic, tell you a secret.”

Donna shook her head childishly, with a slightly sinister smile, blinking as if she had the same vision problems as you.

“No… It’s… Pri…Private…” she said, stammering, nervous about your subtle movements on her body, purposely provoking her.

“Donna, don’t be mean…” you complained with an exaggerated moan. “What would you do to me? Wait, wait, I’ll help you…”

Moving, you reached for the bottle again, drinking directly from it and tilting it so she could do the same.

“Finish it all, huh?” you said a bit dizzy, but with the same desire to play.

“Io non sono una bambina…” the lady protested, moving her hands to remove the bottle from her mouth. “Lasciami…”

“Oh… Excuse me, Lady Beneviento… Can I do anything else for you, my lady?” you joked, pretending an elegant voice, inevitably altered by alcohol.

“Taci,” Donna protested with a shy smile, with her cheeks red from drunkenness and that spicy conversation.

“Mmmm, so, maid… I like it,” you murmured thoughtfully, leaning towards her ear. “Would you like me to serve you, Donna? To please you?”

She nodded, panting from the alcoholic sensuality your blurry words conveyed.

“That seems very sexy to me…” you purred, biting her earlobe. “Tell me, if I were your maid, what would you do to me?”

“Mm,” she murmured, with the shadow of disinhibition shining in her only eye, which ran over your figure without any kind of qualms. “I would ask you to clean my dolls…”

“Oh,” you said amused, unintentionally beginning to gently swing your hips, to give yourself pleasure by rubbing them against her body.

“I would love to lift your dress and touch you and then… Put you on your knees and then you, hic, you…”

“I….?” you insisted.

She shook her head with an amused gasp and you protested with a grunt, moving your hips faster.

“Donna…” you said with a sad, demanding tone.

“Use your, hic, imagination” Donna said, laughing amused, putting her hands on your hips so your movements wouldn’t stop. “(Y/N)…”

“Do you like this, darling?” you asked, dragging out your words, biting your lip. “Oh, yes, you like it…”

“You're drunk,” the lady said with a serious tone, but without stopping moving, dancing with your body. “You’ve drunk too much.”

“I guess you haven't, huh?” you joked, putting a finger on her nose, intensifying the drunken look that you endured with a spark of desire.

“I'm a fancy lady,” she protested. “You're not.”

“That hurt,” you said, pretending to stab yourself in the chest. “Let's see, hic, if you're right, I'm going to c… C…Confess my secret to you,” you said, having difficulty pronouncing words clearly.

“With me you don't have... Se...Secrets...” she stammered, frowning and shaking her head, trying to clear the alcoholic haze that was surely clouding her reasoning.

“You think so, huh?” you said amused, leaning back to her ear, licking your lips. “Listen to me... My secret is... I love the taste of your pussy...”

“(Y/N)!” the lady shrieked, with a surprised expression, shaking her head. “Don’t, don't say such rude things... Cazzo...”

“Oh, rude things, huh? Well, you should know that I can’t only say them, I can also do them...”

That was the last sentence you said. Instantly, you threw yourself at her lips, letting your bodies sway more intensely, stealing heat from each other. The kisses tasted of citrus, of the liquor you had consumed. They were clumsy, erratic, almost guided by a primary instinct and not by desire.

“(Y/N)…” the lady protested when your boldness unbuttoned her dress, when your alcoholic kisses began to run over her skin and your hands traveled up her legs.

“Shhh, silence, my lady… I want to fulfill your wish,” you said, going down, lifting the black skirt, making the doll maker uncomfortable.

She protested with a moan.

Her complaints didn’t stop you. You continued with the path that your kisses marked on her skin, moving aside any fabric that dared to get in your way.

“Cazzo!” she shrieked when your tongue made contact with her wet folds, with the desire you could taste between her legs. “More, more!”

Her screams had nothing to do with the romantic Donna she used to be when turning off the light and joining your bodies. Her moans were wild and rude words came out discreetly from her mouth.

You laughed, trying to concentrate on your task, licking her clit, unleashing those wild  moans again before inserting two of your fingers by surprise. Her movements were uncontrollable and her hand pulled at your hair while Donna writhed in pleasure at the skill of your techniques.

The moans echoed through the walls but you barely heard them. Everything was like a blurry vision of what was happening. You moaned feeling her fingers inside of you too, feeling how her body asked for more while stimulating yours.

Kisses, hugs, moans… Nothing that happened seemed to have meaning, seemed to be related. It was like a drunken mess of love and passion, a wild, almost uncontrollable one. The moans were outrageous.

Her body moved crazily on top of yours while your wetness rubbed against each other, while you caressed each other fiercely.

“Sto per venire!” the lady shrieked, tilting her head up as you attacked again with your tongue, running over her excited wetness, that delicious taste mixed with the liquor. “(Y/N), (Y/N)! Keep going, keep going!” she screamed, echoing off the walls of the mansion, accompanied shortly after by several deep, crazy moans, the most outrageous orgasm you had ever heard.

Your release also came or so you thought, as you rubbed yourself against her leg, while your wetness made her skin shine. After that, your mind relaxed, causing the dizziness you felt to become unbearable.

The lady was lying on the couch, running an erratic hand through her hair, across her sweaty forehead, gesturing for you to lie down next to her.

“I want to… Dormire…” Donna murmured, drawing her legs up and turning around tiredly. The alcohol had already completely finished her off, just like it did to you.

“What do you want…? I don’t unders….Underst…Understand, hic,” you asked walking clumsily naked through that corner, grabbing a blanket from an armchair and letting yourself fall on the sofa, covering your bodies with it.

Your eyes closed and the dizziness calmed down, giving way to an inevitable darkness.

The sound of birds attacked your hearing, your head. Your whole body was in pain, your head was throbbing and your throat was burning. It took a while for your vision to focus properly, to see the morning light coming through a living room window.

You looked down and gasped in surprise. You were naked, on the sofa, covered by a blanket. Next to you, breathing deeply, was Donna, also naked, with her body shrunken surely due to the cold that was beginning to make your skin crawl.

“Shit…” you whispered, running a hand through your head, rubbing your eyes. “What the…?”

When you turned your head, sighing, you saw on the coffee table the culprit of that terrible discomfort: the almost empty bottle of limoncello. Your mouth still tasted of that liquor, but your memory was hurt. You didn't remember anything of what had happened.

You shook your head and turned around concentrating to find out what had led you to be like this. The clothes on the floor, the nakedness... Well, at least there were things that were quite clear...

“Donna... Hey, Donna...” you said with a hoarse voice, pushing the body of the lady, who growled annoyed.

You sighed again and shrugged, covering yourself better with the blanket. Surely you should sleep a little more.

Small steps on the wood made you open your eyes again. A soft whistle came from Angie, who walked with small jumps through the house. You followed her with your eyes until she climbed onto the dining chair, glancing at you briefly.

“What…?” you asked weakly, watching the puppet's gestures.

Angie laughed evilly, reaching out to one of the pots hanging from the ceiling wood, unhooking it from its place and looking at you again.

“Oh, no… No… No…” you said, shaking your head at her intentions. “Angie, don’t…”

The doll nodded mockingly and, grabbing the pot with both hands, threw it to the floor, causing a terribly unpleasant noise that tortured your ears.

“Angie!” you shrieked, pressing your temples hard to mitigate the pain the noise caused in your hungover head.

“Non sono stato io!” the nervous lady said, waking up abruptly, wrinkling her forehead and bringing her hand to her black hair. “Oh… Ho mal di testa…”

“Donna…” you sighed, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Tell me you remember anything that happened last night…”

“Last night? No, Io… My, my whole body hurts… I don’t feel well…” she murmured, shaking her head and looking at herself, covering her body immediately. “Why am I naked?”

“Great, I don’t know,” you said, with the same broken voice, exhausted and in pain. “The only thing I remember is that liquor…” you whispered, pointing at the bottle.

“Mm…” she murmured, closing her eye so the pain would calm down. It wasn’t going to do it. “Maledizione…”

“Well, I remember talking something about a maid, but that doesn’t explain why we’re naked on the couch…” you said thoughtfully. “Gods… What a hangover…”

“A maid? No, I don’t remember,” Donna said, covering you affectionately. “You’re going to catch a cold.”

“We should have thought about that before sleeping here, naked,” you groaned, frustrated at not being able to remember. “Wait, have we…?”

“I don't know…” the sleepy lady whispered, annoyed even by the soft volume of your voice. “I can't remember.”

“Ahem,” a shrill voice said, the Angie doll, who was walking towards you with her arms crossed. “It seems that you have amnesia, don't you? How convenient…”

“Angie…” Donna sighed, annoyed by the high-pitched tone of her doll's voice. “Shut up, please…”

“Oh, you want me to shut up, huh, silly Donna?” the doll mocked, climbing onto the coffee table and pacing around it haughtily. “Then I suppose you don't want to know what happened last night.”

Donna and you looked at each other, frowning.

“Do you know?” you asked, holding the blanket and sitting upright on the couch.

“Do I know?” Angie asked, pointing at herself. “You've traumatized me, stupid!”

“Don't yell…”Donna and you whispered in unison, shaking your heads with a painful sob.

“It's been the worst experience of my life, Donna! Since when do you say such dirty things?” the doll asked, pointing at her owner, who shrank on the couch, comically hiding behind your back.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” the lady said nervously, starting to blush. You looked at her with the same confused expression.

“Oh, allow me to explain it to you,” the puppet said, pretending to clear her throat. “More, (Y/N), more! Faster, fuck me like the filthy maid you are! That's it, use your mouth, doll, eat me out!”

“Basta, basta, Angie,” Donna said hurriedly, shaking her head effusively. “I couldn't say that.”

“Couldn’t you? Oh, and you too, you Donna-stealer,” Angie said pointing at you. “Yes, Donna, deeper, deeper, use me like the doll I am!”

“Hey, shut up now, is this a joke?” you protested also embarrassed. Well, at least that fit with your nakedness, and clothes on the floor. “Oh, shit… She heard us,” you whispered to the lady in black, who sank in the couch.

“I heard you and the whole village too, I'm pretty sure,” the doll said, crossing her arms. “What are you up to? I mean, to add more things to the fact that you don't stop ignoring me, you have to rub your obscenities right in my face, huh?”

“Angie, it, it wasn't on purpose,” Donna said, stammering. “It was the limoncello…”

“Of course, blame it on the alcohol,” the doll mocked, pointing at the bottle. “You're a couple of drunken nymphomaniacs! I hate you!”

“Angie, wait,” the lady in black murmured, leaning over the doll as Angie angrily climbed down from the table, disappearing from the room. “Don't hate me…”

It might have seemed like one of Angie's passing tantrums, one of her calls for attention, but she was pretty serious that time. She didn't show up for the whole morning. Donna wanted to pretend she didn't care, but her face said it all.

“Grazie, tesoro…” the lady murmured as you poured her some medicine for that horrible headache, one that you also took.

“Honey, you're worried,” you said in a soft voice, sitting next to her on the couch. Poor Donna was so sick that she couldn't even work on her dolls. You should have listened to the Duke's advice.

“It's nothing,” she whispered, drinking the medicine and rubbing her forehead.

“It's because of Angie, isn't it?” you asked in a more tender voice, looking for the doll with your eyes. She wasn't there.

Donna nodded slowly, squeezing her eye tightly.

“I've never seen her that mad,” she said, looking at the ceiling, letting you hug and caress her in a comforting way. “I can't believe we... Cazzo...”

“Well, it was a mistake, neither of us intended to traumatize her, it was a horrible mistake,” you said, with an amused smile, lifting her chin and kissing her deformed cheek, one of her favorite gestures of affection.

She smiled slightly, but shook her head.

“The... incident last night wouldn't be so important if... If she wasn't right,” the lady said, with a tired sigh.

“What do you mean?”

“Angie has always been with me, since I was 6 years old she has been inseparable for me,” the brunette began, looking at the floor, remembering… “She was my only friend and, I, I was so happy when I could give her life… She was my companion, my faithful companion…”

“Mm, I understand,” you said softly.

“You came into my life to turn everything upside down, you know? Don't get me wrong, I don't know what I would do without you but… It's, it's true that I may have neglected Angie,” Donna said, to which you smiled tenderly. “I used to play with her before, talk for hours… And now, it's, it's true that I don't pay as much attention to her and on top of that… On top of that last night… Oh, mio Dio… How embarrassing…”

“Don't blame yourself, Donna, we are both guilty of not having control,” you said softly, rubbing her back.

“I can't imagine how humiliating it was for Angie to see me… like this…” the ventriloquist lamented, burying her face in her hands.

“Well… If you're so worried…” you sighed thoughtfully, controlling the pain in your head. “Why don't we do something for her?”

“Now it's really getting interesting…” a mocking voice appeared by surprise.

Angie, who seemed to be listening (to no one's surprise) suddenly appeared, walking while laughing mockingly and jumping onto Donna's lap.

“Hey, were you spying on us?” you asked amused, trying not to be unpleasant.

“Yes, although last night you put me off doing it anymore,” the puppet said.

Donna smiled tenderly, carefully placing Angie's clothes.

“Perdonami, Angie… I didn't mean to make you feel that way,” the lady said, apologizing sincerely.

“Mm, it's too soon to accept your apologies, silly Donna…” the doll said with a cocky tone, but not getting off her lap. “But I’ve heard something I liked…”

“Let me guess, it's when I said we should do something for you, am I wrong?” you said with a raised eyebrow and an amused smile.

“I think we're starting to understand each other, you silly intruder…” Angie murmured in a sinister voice.

“What do you want?” Donna asked, staring at her, frowning. “We'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you.”

“Well, whatever…” you murmured, catching the doll's attention, who turned her head sharply.

“Do you want me to forgive you, stupid fools?” Angie asked mockingly, standing on Donna's legs. You both nodded automatically. “Well, I want… I want… I want… Oh! Get up.”

You and Donna looked at each other but obeyed. The doll sat on the couch, swinging her legs expectantly.

“Do you remember the puppet show you did when you were 17, silly Donna?” Angie asked, pointing at the brunette, who frowned.

“Yes, of course I remember them,” she said, in a seemingly calm voice. “The Mighty Angie versus the Moon Monsters.”

“Yes, that's it, that's it!” the doll said.

You looked at the lady, confused.

“I want you two to make me a puppet show, I want one of those stories like the ones Donna told me,” the doll demanded, tilting her head.

“What is she talking about?” you asked in a small voice. “A puppet show? It must be a joke.”

“I'm afraid it’s not, tesoro…” the lady sighed, crossing her arms. “Okay, Angie.”

“Well, I'll go get the stuff, you two should do some… Rehearsing…”

The Angie doll ransacked the whole house to take out an old, hand-made stage along with two puppets. One was Angie herself, and the other was a deformed monster.

“Here,” Donna said, putting the stage on the floor and handing that horrible monster you.

“Wait, wait,” you said nervously. “Hey, Donna, I have no idea how to do this, besides, why do I have to be this bug thing?”

“No complaints, silly (Y/N)! Only my Donna can be the Mighty Angie!” the doll protested. You growled annoyed by the irritating voice that still made a dent in your wounded head.

“Calm down, tesoro, you'll see that it's easy,” Donna said, concentrated, touching up the last details of that scenario and kneeling behind it. “Come, kneel with me.”

“Donna, I don't know what this Mighty Angie thing is about,” you said gently, making the gesture of quotation marks with your fingers. “What do I do?”

“I'm waiting…” the doll hummed impatiently, making you growl again.

“I'm coming,” you said in a gruff tone.

Donna smiled at you and reassured you with a soft kiss on your lips.

“You'll do very well, amore mio,” the lady said with a tender voice. It even seemed that somehow she was happy to do that. You thought it was simply adorable.

It was quite difficult at first, but soon you were able to improvise that show. Donna was giving voice to the puppet, which, of course, was the great heroine of the story.

“Get back, stupid moon monster! You don't know who you're messing with,” the Mighty Angie said said approaching where you were sticking the puppet out.

 Seeing Donna doing those things always amused you. You wondered why a woman so cheerful and funny on the inside, was so gloomy on the outside.

“So you are the Mighty Angie,” you said, getting into the role of a dangerous monster, deepening your voice in a way that made you blush. Luckily, Angie couldn't see you. “Surely you're not as mighty as they say... Um... Um... Ha, ha, ha...” you laughed evilly

“You think so, huh? Haven't they taught you manners in your cave, you disgusting bug? Don't worry. I'll take care of that.”

Donna brought her puppet closer to yours, pretending to fight, even making sounds and growls in a really impressive way. She certainly had a talent for that stuff.

“You won’t beat me, you space leech!” Angie’s puppet shrieked, struggling with yours.

“You think you’re so powerful, huh? You’ll never be able to beat me!” the moon monster said laughing evilly as your blush disappeared.

“No, Mighty Angie, it’s provoking you! You’re stronger than it!” the real Angie shrieked, waving her arms excitedly.

“Oh, so you have allies…” you murmured, turning the puppet towards the couch, pointing at Angie with one of its tentacles. “Maybe I should finish them off first…”

“Never!” the other puppet exclaimed, lunging at yours. “Aha, that’s your weak point! Your force shield doesn't cover your back!”

You looked at Donna in confusion and she shrugged, laughing in amusement. You smiled too. You weren't having a bad time after all.

“Oh no, she's figured it out! Mighty Angie, spare my life, I'll leave this planet forever,” you said in a pleading tone, bringing the puppet's tentacles together.

“Too late, space slug!” the small puppet screamed before launching itself at yours for the final attack.

“Oh no… I'm dying…” you said, feigning agony and dropping the monster on the stage.

“Good! Good!” Angie clapped. “Mighty Angie is invincible! That was great, you fools!”

“Ugh,” you sighed, standing up and removing the puppet from your hand, helped by the lady, who did the same, shaking your clothes.

“You haven't been too bad, have you? You're good at it,” Donna commented, bringing her puppet closer to pretend to eat you. “Yum, yum.”

You laughed shyly under her warm smile, approaching her and kissing her tenderly on the lips.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” Angie protested, getting off the couch and pushing her owner's legs away from you. “No kisses, silly fools!”

“Oh, come on, we've told you a great story,” you said amused, finally moving away from the lady in black.

“Do you accept my apologies now, Angie?” Donna asked, with a pleading look, extending her hand towards the puppet's.

“Mm, let me think... No, I don’t”

“You don’t?” you two asked at the same time.

“Um, it seems that you don't realize the seriousness of your actions, you drunken fools... If you think that with that show you're going to make me forget about last night, you can wait for it,” Angie said, pretending to look at her nails.

“Angie, we've done what you wanted, hey, we need to rest for a while,” you said, with the kindest voice possible.

“No sleeping!” the puppet shrieked, making the pain return to your head. Donna and you groaned at those shrieks. “You're going to do what I tell you or I won't forgive you.”

“I'm starting to think that it's not so bad having you hating us,” you murmured, crossing your arms. Donna approached, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Per favore, amore mio... Let's play along a bit longer. She'll soon get tired and leave us alone," Donna told you with a sincere look that exuded confidence.

You rolled your eyes and sighed, nodding slowly.

“Okay... Okay, Donna, I'll do it for you.”

That was the beginning of that hellish day.

Angie had taken absolute control of the Beneviento house. You and Donna showered her with little details, whims like balls of wool to play with, children’s games around the house...

Of course, Angie knew how she wanted to spend her time, she had an idea for every moment and you had no choice but to bow your heads and accept. Otherwise, Angie would start shouting the obscene phrases she heard the night before, something Donna couldn't stand.

Damn blackmailing doll...

“What are you doing? Keep fanning me, you fool,” the doll demanded while you fanned. She certainly looked like a queen from another time, even with her own private throne, one that Donna had to desperately search for in the attic.

“What’s the point of that? Can you even feel it?” you asked, sighing tiredly, lying on the floor in a humiliating manner.

The doll slowly turned towards you, with a look you already knew.

“Oh, Donna, use your tongue on my…!”

“Okay, okay! I’ll fan you…” you said annoyed, earning a sinister laugh from the doll.

Your body hadn’t yet recovered from the hangover and, after hours of playing hide and seek, you were increasingly tired. It seemed that Angie didn’t want to waste a single minute of her glorious day.

“But, don't, yell, please,” you hissed while moving your hand.

Donna appeared shortly after, holding a small doll in her hands.

“Here it is,” she murmured, crouching down next to you and giving the toy to Angie. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes!” Angie shouted, getting down from the throne and picking up the small doll. “How pretty it is!” she exclaimed, hugging her gift.

Donna laughed amused, unable to hide her tiredness.

“Thank you…” the doll sighed, hugging her owner in a tender way, like you had never seen before. You smiled too and even more so when Angie walked towards you, giving you the same hug. “Hey, you're being very good to me, fools.”

“I never thought I'd say this but…” you murmured, hugging the doll back. “The truth is that you are adorable when you want to.”

“What nonsense, I always am,” the doll said, gesturing with her hand and playing with her new doll.

“Have fun with your new doll, I think we…” Donna said, taking your hand to get you up and yawning comically. “Are going to take a nap…”

“No way,” Angie protested, with that sinister tone again. “Don't you know what time it is, silly Donna?”

“No…” the lady sighed frowning, hugging you from behind and kissing your neck sweetly.

“Tea time!”

“No, Angie, please…” you sighed, putting a hand on your forehead.

Of course, you had to have tea with her and her dolls… That was the worst part.

“Do you want some sugar Mrs. Thin Butts?” the doll asked, playing with her toy tea set. If only it had been real tea…

You looked at poor Donna who, due to exhaustion, had fallen asleep leaning against the sofa, her head resting on her hand.

“Mrs. Thin Butt…” you said through your teeth, nudging her awake.

“Dove siamo?” she asked, shaking her head.

“I say if you wanted sugar, silly!” Angie shrieked, eliciting another annoyed grunt from you.

Fortunately, that fake tea was the last of Angie’s demands. It took a whole day, but she finally got tired of torturing you.

“Aren’t you having dinner, tesoro?” Donna asked, sitting down on the couch next to you, a plate of fruit on her lap.

“I’m not hungry,” you said in a husky voice, curling up on yourself on the couch. “Well, if you give me a piece of that apple…” you said, sitting up and taking the piece the lady cut with a knife, giving it to you in a romantic way.

“It’s been a rough day, hasn’t it?” she murmured, running a gentle hand through your hair. “Don’t worry, it’s over.”

“Yeah…” you sighed, glancing at the bottle of liquor that was still in its place. You felt a chill. “Remind me not to drink again…”

“My grandfather used to say that a glass of limoncello was perfect for a hangover,” Donna commented, taking the bottle.

You laughed, shaking your head.

“Even if that limoncello is the one to blame?” you joked.

The lady in black shrugged, uncorking the bottle and taking a sip.

“It’s better than last night… But it’s warm,” she said, making a face of disgust. “I’ll go get some cold glasses.”

“Bring me five,” you said, making a vague gesture with your hand.

It was obvious that you hadn’t learned from your mistakes and, when that bottle was already empty, the laughter and babbling reached the dark room again.

“Hey, hey, hey Donna…” you said, unable to stop laughing, climbing up her body again. “Shall I tell you a secret?”

The lady laughed with red cheeks again, with that sinister look that the liquor caused her.

A few quick steps made you look at Angie, who was running away in terror.

“Oh, no! Not again!”

[bumblingbabooshka]

Amanda Grayson with her Hubby and Stepson

[maddy-ferguson]

Yeah and since this doesnt only involve writers but also other production stuff, i wonder how theyre gonna start filming in may or june? Bec that would also be breaking the strike too... like idk how they are going to work around that. But anyway. My estimation is that the strike will at least take 3-4 months at the very least. So like. Yeah. 2025 release seems more likely bc the strike also involves other production staff

i can't lie to you i don't know shit about how american strikes in the entertainment industry work and i was a baby (6) and not american in 2007 but i mean yeah that season 5 is never seeing the light of day i fear

[ghostickle]

My favorite game am I an asshole or do my friends just suck

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Seeing ghosts in Gotham

He’s walking alone. Despite how dark it is, he’s not particularly nervous, not like the couple of people hovering in an alley.

His shift at Batburger went a little long, not that he’s complaining, he needed the money.

Everything is fine. Splendid. Fantastic. A little quiet, enough to pretend it’s a nice stroll home like it was back in Amity. Of course that all kind of goes up in flames when a dark figure drops into a crouch right in front of him. About two arm lengths away is a guy who straightens to a little taller than Danny himself. From the flickering street light across the street he can spot red, crisscross yellow, and a dark cape.

Red Robin.

Danny shakes his head and turns around.

“Nope.”

A smaller body is already standing behind him, blocking his path. The little guy with a serious face folds his arms across his chest as if challenging Danny to try to get by him.

He’s had enough tussles with Danielle to know better than to test the kid.

Danny rubs at his eyes with a hand, purposefully keeping the other limp at his side. He turns back around.

“Okay. Fine. What? What do you want?”

“You sent in a folder of information to solve the Boothe case,” Red Robin states confidently like there wasn’t any doubt it was Danny who sent it in.

He frowns. It was sent in anonymously. As in they shouldn’t be able to know it was him. Then again they are detectives in their own right even if they dress weird.

“See? This is why no one helps out the police if they’re gonna get grilled for it later on,” he complains sourly.

“That case is connected to another string of crimes we’ve been investigating. I need to know where you got your information.”

Danny glares at him for a second, actually thinking about telling him, then he remembers how quickly these guys throw people into Arkham.

“Do you not get what anonymous means?”

“What is your source?” He asks, completely ignoring Danny’s concerns.

“What are gonna do? Dangle me over the side of a building to get me to talk like you do with the criminals you guys pick up? Go ahead. See where that gets you,” he shrugs indifferently.

“You’re a runaway.”

Danny’s eyes widen in surprise before narrowing into a warning as he turns to look at the pipsqueak that spoke.

“From your poorly made fake ID and the fact you don’t look close to eighteen, you must be a runaway minor. We could bring you in to the proper authorities if you prove to be… uncooperative.”

Danny sneers in annoyance.

“Seriously?” He turns back to Red Robin. Clearly the older of the two and the one leading this investigation. “This is what I get for trying to help? Blackmail?”

“Robin can be a bit… abrasive. I, on the other hand, can appreciate a different approach.”

Suddenly there’s a couple pieces of paper money in between his fingers. Danny couldn’t see how much it was from this far away, but it didn’t really change how he felt about the whole situation.

“Now bribery? Wow, you guys really got the whole good cop, bad cop thing down, don’t cha?”

“Then what do you want?”

“For you to stop wasting your time,” Danny answers with a snap.

Red Robin pauses.

“Our time,” he repeats calmly.

“Yea. Your time. This is a dead end and you should move on.”

“And why are you a dead end?” Presses Robin.

“Because,” Danny emphasizes with a look over his shoulder, “the guy you’re really looking for, my source as you put it, is dead, okay? So you can’t go ask him questions. I sent in everything that was relevant. Find another lead.”

Red Robin’s expression remains blank as he mentally calculates his next move. Danny hopes he takes his advice and let him go home.

“His name?”

Danny folds his arms over his chest, a pathetic attempt to protect himself. He chews on his lip a minute. To tell him or not to tell him. It’s not really ratting the guy out since he’s, you know, dead. Although there is a large chance Danny’s missing something and it’s all going to lead back to him somehow.

“I didn’t kill him.”

“I never said you did,” the vigilante replies calmly, almost nonchalant.

Danny shifts his weight with nerves. He really wasn’t getting out of this without giving them something, huh?

“Greg,” he grinds out like it’s painful.

Silence for a few moments, then-

“As in Gregory Boothe?”

The victim of this whole conversation? Yes.

Danny’s silence is answer enough and the diverted gaze just solidified their suspicions.

“Gregory Boothe’s body turned up a month ago. Presumably he’d been dead for several weeks before that.”

Red lets that damning information hang in the air like Danny didn’t already know.

“So when did he talk to you? Last week?”

Danny jerks at the off handed joke, actually taking a step back and hitching his shoulders up to his ears. He grimaces at his knee jerk response, but can’t take it back. A glance toward the vigilante shows a calculating stunned expression from what he can see ignoring the mask. He looks away again finding a discarded soda can very interesting.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Demands Robin behind him.

Danny tried to resist the urge to curl even more into himself, but knows he failed without even having to look.

“You’re a medium,” Red Robin states. It’s not even a question.

Danny flinches and shoots the guy a scared glare.

“I am not one of those scam artists,” he hisses firmly.

“No,” Red agrees, “you’re not. You didn’t ask for money or attention.”

Danny stares like it’s his first time seeing him. The lack of aggression or accusations was new and a little disarming. He was genuinely confused as to why the guy wasn’t immediately going to denial or throwing him in Arkham.

“Hell of a city to hide in when you can see ghosts,” Red Robin says in a light tone like he was teasing him. The small tug to his lips just proves it.

Danny’s shoulders practically sag at the playful demeanor. A hand reaches up to rub the back of his neck self-consciously.

“Yea, well… no one was gonna look for me here.”

Which was only half the reason he chose Gotham, but it was still truthful.

“So… Greg?”

“Isn’t here right now.” Danny pauses and snorts at himself. “Please leave a message.”

The vigilante does have a sense of humor because he smirks in response to the joke.

“Is there another way to… make contact? Summoning maybe?”

Danny raises an eyebrow incredulously.

“Summoning is rude,” he says like it’s common sense.

Instead he turns to the nearest reliable ghost in the vicinity.

“Hey, Susan, can you go-“

The vigilantes can’t hear how she interrupts him because she was standing there the whole time and knows exactly what he was going to ask.

“Okay, thanks. Meet at mine.”

The ghost woman nods and flies off to go hunt down dear old Greg and Danny turns to Red Robin. He makes a casual move with his head to say ‘follow me’ and continues walking down the sidewalk past the guy and further into the old, decrepit buildings he’s been squatting in.

They already know he’s a runaway, being homeless shouldn’t come as a shock to them. Even with his two jobs, he can’t afford to rent an apartment. No wonder so many people are in poverty or in the slums.

He ducks into his rundown building, ignoring the rats scurrying away, and hops up the rickety stairs, avoiding the ones that were unstable. It was a nightmare figuring out which steps were faulty. Lots of injuries.

At the top he turns to see Red easily copying his movements up the stairs while Robin balances along the railing like a tight rope. When they reach the top at the same time Danny just stares at them for a moment before shaking his head in exasperation. Darn vigilantes. Why did Danny have to get caught up in this mess?

He turns, walking along the floor closest to the wall before getting to what he’s deemed his room.

It used to be an office from what he can tell. A desk pushed against the far wall and a ripped sofa he’s been using as a bed on the other wall. The floors were the most stable in this room which really won out.

Danny goes to the desk where all his papers are scattered over the surface. An organizational pattern only he understands as he shuffles through the pile he pulls from the cubby above the desk. It holds all the same information he sent into the police, just in its raw form with about twice the amount of useless information. Along with it is a few other ‘cases’ that sounds familiar that he just threw together into a pile. Maybe the genius detectives could decipher what he couldn’t.

“Here,” he says, holding out the stack. Red Robin doesn’t hesitate to take it off his hands.

There’s no chair for the desk anymore so he slides some papers out of the way to hop onto the desk to wait.

“No.”

The vigilantes look at him and he shakes his head and looks over to the side.

“No, Abby. I’m not wasting their time.”

Red Robin goes back to flipping through papers. Most of them were old business papers he had found in the office and just written on the back. Some were receipts or pamphlets or some other random scrap of paper he could get his hands on.

“Because yours was an accident. There’s nothing for them to solve.”

Robin watched him cautiously as if waiting for Danny to snap or suddenly turn violent. Instead he leans back on his hands in a vulnerable position which screamed ‘I don’t want to hurt anyone’.

“There is a lot more information here than what was submitted to the police,” Red Robin comments neutrally, purposefully ignoring Danny’s exasperated sigh and one-sided conversation.

Danny shrugs in defense, “Didn’t think all of it was relevant.”

The vigilante doesn’t respond.

Robin drifts closer as Danny gives a withering glare to the corner. He examines the mess of papers surrounding the teen in the low lighting.

“Are these all files of victims?”

Danny glances over them with a knowledgeable eye.

“Most.” He twists to point at the top left corner of the cubbies. “Those are accidents though… well, what sounds like accidents.”

“There should be more.”

Danny looks at the boy with a tilted head and raises brow.

“Not everyone sticks around,” he explains simply.

Then something draws his attention away across the room. Surprisingly his eyes don’t glaze over like someone with mental illness, instead they sharpen to see something they can’t. It resembled Constantine or Thomas.

“Greg, these guys wanna talk to you.”

What proceeds is a very awkward interaction with Danny as a middle man between victim and vigilante. Despite the need for a translator, Red Robin does in fact get a lead from the conversation.

“Thank you for your cooperation.”

Danny nods. “Sure, no problem. Just don’t rat me out to the police and I can help with any other case that pops up with a ghost attached.”

“You know we can help with your living situation,” Red Robin offers with a glance around the room.

“What, and put me in foster care? No thanks, I’ll pass.”

“There are other options,” Robin chimes in with nonchalance that implies he doesn’t actually care.

“You don’t pass for eighteen, but if you let me make you a new ID we could say you’re emancipated.”

Danny frowns.

“I’d have to be sixteen to be eligible for emancipation.”

“You could be sixteen.”

No, he really couldn’t. Maybe if you squint your eyes and tilt your head, but Danny is fourteen with all the baby fat and innocent face that comes with it. His license now is a clear fake to anyone who sees it, but in this city no one’s gonna question it to his face. They just raise a brow, look at him, then shrug it off and roll with the lie.

“What do you want?” He demands. All this good will and wanting to help him can’t be free.

“We want to help,” Red says too easily.

Danny stares for a second, eyes narrowed as he tries to block out the multiple voices around him.

Insurance. He wants Danny to owe him so he can keep coming back for more information.

“I just told you I would help. Why are you still trying to get leverage?” He demands with irritation.

“We want to help-“

“You want me in your back pocket.”

Red Robin doesn’t give that a response, his lips pressing together to make a hard line.

Instead of pushing, he surprisingly takes a step back and heads towards the door, papers still in hand. Danny doesn’t argue.

Robin ducks out first, blending into the shadows without even a glance over his shoulder. Red Robin pauses in the doorway.

“Don’t try to skip town,” he states like an order. Like if Danny did in fact try, he would be found and brought back.

It didn’t even cross Danny’s mind.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he says tiredly, too fed up with the day to defend himself.

Red Robin watches him for a moment before nodding and disappearing out the room.

Danny slumps with a groan, finally sliding off the desk to shuffle to the couch, body flopping face first into the worn cushions.

It’s silent to everyone else but Danny.

“I know.”

…

“I know, Jack, but I don’t trust them. Even if he is your son.”

Danny never noticed the bug planted by Robin on the underside of the desk.

[the-froschamethyst4]

Young Gf and Older bf

————

Simon Ghost Riley Headcanons

SFW & NSFW

————

————

SFW

Older bf! Simon who didn’t know how he felt about having a younger girlfriend

Older bf! Simon who was getting called “old man” by his girlfriend

Older bf! Simon who learned the hard way that some girls have expensive taste

Older bf! Simon who doesn’t talk much about his girlfriend to his mates, he feels like they’ll get on his ass about dating a young girl

Older bf! Simon who did most of the chores around the house

Older bf! Simon who stopped caring what he wore in front of people because his girlfriend is his little hype-man

“Does this work?” Simon asks coming into his shared bedroom with his girlfriend, she rolls on her side to look at him.

“They don’t match your shoes, Si.”

“What?” He looks down. “I thought they did.”

“Here, go try this on and come back at out.”

Older bf! Simon who told his girlfriend about his time in the military

Older bf! Simon who forget how young his girlfriend is, so when he makes jokes or says a movie reference she doesn’t know what he is talking about

Older bf! Simon who was honestly scared to meet his girlfriend’s family. She told them about Simon being older but not how old he was

“And how old are you, Simon?” Her dad asked leaning forward.

“I’m…40”

“40!!”

“Y/N?!”

“What?! He treats me good, he respects me, guys my age want that trad wife, Simon doesn’t, I can do or say what I want around him and feel good about myself.”

Older bf! Simon who knows everything about you. How you like your coffee, what time you’re suppose to be up for work, and he even knows when you’re about to start your period, you know when he shows up at home with bags full of pads and tampons and her favorite foods and drinks

Older bf! Simon who starts watching shows with you but complains about them but deep down he actually likes to watch them with his girlfriend

NSFW

Older bf! Simon who woke up to you in t-shirts and no shorts or pants, he likes seeing you in a t shirt and panties

Older bf! Simon who has woken up to morning wood before and needed help to get rid of it

“Love,” he kisses the shell of her ear. “Love…wake up,” he coos.

“Hmm~ Simon, not now please.”

“I know, love, you don’t have to do anything,” Simon lines himself up at her entrance and pushes himself into her

Older bf! Simon who like after argument sex

“Fuck you!”

“Oh yeah? Fuck me?” Simon carries a smirk on his face.

“Back up, Simon,” Y/n says putting her hand up on his chest to keep distance.

“Fuck me right? Fuck me?”

“Wait, wait,” your legs didn’t work for a few weeks

Older bf! Simon who tries different things with you, like BDSM you both hated it because it’ll be painful for you and Simon didn’t like you hurt

DDLG, he knows the age gap between you two but he hates the word ‘daddy’ makes him cringe

Mask kink, you both loved it, giving the illusion you were being fucked by someone else and he liked feelings your hands in his face

Voice kink, you liked it because of his deep voice already, he was on the fence, not saying your voice is annoying or anything he just didn’t get it

Knife play, you got scared when he accidentally dropped the knife and it was very close to your hand, it was the same thing with gun play you were afraid something wrong might happen

He tried to be a sub but you could barely take it seriously

Older bf! Simon who has fucked you when you were doing your work, you worked in a private office and all he had to do was shut and lock the door and bend you over your own desk

Older bf! Simon who is handsy when he’s horny

“Simon what do you want?”

“I want nothing,” he says as one of his hands were on your waste and the other snacks up to your breasts giving you a gentle squeeze and you gave him a soft moan.

“Just do it already, Simon,” she moans

Older bf! Simon who has kept a pair of your panties in his pockets and has forgotten about them before, he remembers when he accidentally sticks his hand into his pocket and feels the lace

Older bf! Simon who bought a motorcycle and takes you with him as his backpack, he found a abandoned place were no one comes to and you two had a good fuck on his bike

[prokopetz]

I'm not gonna claim that most Tumblr polls are anything like rigorously structured, but I've seen a lot of folks rather smugly asserting that having a "not applicable" option that ends up dominating all other responses is evidence that the person who created the poll is incompetent, and y'all: under the specific circumstances in which these polls are constructed and distributed, that outcome is evidence of good poll design, not bad poll design. Yes, even when the "not applicable" responses outnumber all other responses ten to one. There are several reasons for that:

At the time of this posting, Tumblr polls have no "see response" button. The only ways to see a poll's distribution of responses are to wait for the poll to conclude, or to respond yourself – and not only are people on social media typically curious and impatient, many of them also know that there's no way they'll remember to check back later once the poll has concluded, so in practice, their opportunity to see the results is now or never. Adding a little note to the poll insisting that people who aren't part of the targeted demographic should refrain from voting isn't necessarily going to restrain that impulse. Indeed, it may end up encouraging folks who otherwise wouldn't have picked a random result-revealing response to do so, because fuck you, don't tell me what to do.

Many respondents genuinely won't realise they're not part of the targeted demographic until after they've voted. It doesn't matter how much text you add to contextualise the poll, because they'll read the poll first, and if they read the accompanying text at all, it's only after they've responded. Heck, a lot of folks don't even bother to read the question before responding to a poll; they just start going down the options and reflexively click the first one that seems like it might apply to them, then go back and read what was actually being asked (and complain in the notes if it turns out that they misunderstood). Even a well-meaning person can only comply with instructions they've actually read; for those folks, clicking the "not applicable" option is what compliance looks like.

Even folks who do fit your poll's targeted demographic can fall prey to the imp of the perverse. Giving the most accurate response rather than the most entertaining one can be a real struggle for a lot of folks; in scientific analysis of polling data, this is known as the "mischievous responder bias". In an informal setting like Tumblr, it's reasonable to suppose that the mischievous responder effect might be exaggerated compared to polls conducted in more formal contexts, and a well-designed poll is going to take that into account. A humorous "not applicable" option provides an escape by affording folks the freedom to screw around with the knowledge that they're not polluting useful data by doing so; in practice, the "I am a toaster" option is a mischievous response filter.

What this adds up to is that a poll where 90% of the responses hit the "not applicable" button is more likely to have yielded useful data than a poll with a narrow target audience where some unknown percentage of the responses represent folks not reading the instructions, clicking random options to see the results, and/or taking the piss.

[radiance1]

Danny has been reincarnated.

Which was an odd thing to realize, it wasn't even a slow one he just... snapped into it one day. One moment he was staring at a wall out of boredom the next, well, he was staring for an entirely different reason.

It was a task for his now young -he thinks around three years old?- mind to work its way through the memories, but it wasn't like he had much else to do honestly. So, what does he know?

His name is Danny, like, his actual name and not just a moniker. He was once a halfa and he already knows he's going to be missing invisibility and intangibility. He, well, died. For like, a second time which actually makes sense because reincarnation-

Anyways.

He was a clone of two people from this thing called the Justice League which, weird name but probably some government or activist group. Wonder Woman and Superman. Which were pretty weird names to name your kids but eh.

He doesn't really remember much besides that from this life, or the one from before but he's an adult! He'll figure things out once he gets out of this containment tube thing.

Did he mention he was in a test tube? He's a tube baby now. He thinks? Or maybe it's more like he's being contained.

Whatever.

So he breaks out. Thank you apparent superstrength that he has no idea why he has but he's not going to complain! He then wandered around all of the other test tubes, able to remember just enough of English to see that yea, they're dead.

He probably was too, before he had memories zapped into him. Or a vegetable.

He then finds this really big container, checks it out, then opens it because the clone inside isn't dead!

'Project Match' it said. He'll just call him Match.

Was he thanked for helping him? Nope. You would think that he would be thanked or at least somewhat respected for saving this guy but nope!

He was, quite literally, held up by his leg and dangled in the air. Who dangles a three-year-old?! Well, he was technically and adult but still! The next few things were a blur but after pulling off the old Fenton charm he found him and Match outside as he tried to stop him from attacking random people.

Luckily the charms and privilege of the youngest (he's assuming he's the youngest, because he's physically three) was more than enough to get through to him. Sure, the guy couldn't form words, really aggressive for literally no reason, really weird but also absolutely cool looking eyes. But he worked around the first issue by developing their own personal language from like grunts and stuff, the second he once again used his youngest privilege to boss him around and the third a pair of sunglasses easily fixed.

He just had to steer Match clear of those random S crest mark thingies. Which was a weird thing to hate but hey, he's not there to judge.

[innerfare]

Wearing His Hat

Summary: You wear his hat

Characters: Luffy, Ace, Sabo, Law, Mihawk

Genre: I'm going to say fluff, but Ace's and Mihawk's are fairly suggestive, so be cautioned

——— 

Luffy: 

Luffy is very protective of his hat. It’s his most prized possession, given to him by his beloved father figure. He’d fight the bloodiest war in human history to get that hat back should someone steal it from him. It’s for that reason he’s shocked by his own reaction when you get a little tipsy one night and pluck it off his head, placing it atop yours. 

“Call me Captain,” you tell the crew, going member by member and giving them orders, getting onto Zoro’s case for not saluting like Usopp and Chopper did. 

He doesn’t feel the urge to snatch it back, doesn’t feel even a touch of anxiety that you could misplace or damage it. Rather, he feels a sense of pride- everyone knows him by his straw hat, so if you’re wearing it, everyone knows you’re his. And it’s in that moment he realizes that you’re his- not his belonging, but his person. You’re the one he wants to walk through this life beside, the person who chose to wear his hat. 

Law: 

He works so hard- it’s one of the things you love about him. You typically try not to disturb him while he’s in the middle of a book, but every once in a while, you can see that he’s not lost in the book so much as he is holding it in his hands to keep the people around him at a distance, allowing him to think a little too much about what’s stressing him out. 

You can tell by the tension in his neck and shoulders, the way his eyes don’t really focus on the pages but rather look right through them. 

“Put the book down. It’s time for dinner.” Coming up behind him, you give his shoulders a squeeze before sitting on his desk, kicking your feet a little bit. 

“Not hungry.” 

“Yes, you are.” 

He cast you an annoyed look but said nothing else. 

Knowing he wouldn’t budge unless you jumpstarted him, you snatched his hat off his head and placed it atop yours, 

“Y/n-ah.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Give me my hat back.” 

“If you want it so bad,” you told him with a small smile. “Put the book down and come and get it from me.” With that, you hopped off his desk and slipped out of the office. 

Law glanced down at his book. He didn’t give it another thought, just tossed it aside and climbed out of his chair to get that hat off your head, and possibly another garment or two. 

Ace: 

He was always putting that hat on your head. Everyone knew him by the orange cowboy hat, and if you wore it, they knew you were his. What most of them didn’t know, however, was exactly what he did to you when you wore that hat. 

You were sitting on the deck of the Moby Dick one evening talking to a few members of the crew over some sake when Ace passed behind you. He didn’t say anything, just dropped the hat on your head and went to talk to Marco. 

Your cheeks heated up. Grateful the darkness hid your blush, you finished your sake and told the guys you were headed to bed. Though they whined about you turning in early, they didn’t try to stop you. What you didn’t notice were the knowing looks they exchanged behind your back, the crew slowly catching on to yours and Ace’s code. 

When you reached Ace’s cabin, he was already waiting for you. He wrapped you in his arms the moment you entered. 

“Took you long enough,” he said, groping you as soon as he got his hands on you. 

“What?” You asked as innocently as you could manage. “Is there something you’ve been wanting to do?” 

“Lots of things I’ve been wanting to do.” He pushed you toward the bed. “We can start by you sitting on my face. And remember the rule- if the hat falls off, we start over.” 

Sabo: 

You and Sabo were supposed to be sparring, but he wasn’t taking it seriously. You could tell by the way he kept looking over your shoulder, the way he pawed at you instead of striking when you gave him an opening. You considered complaining, but you knew better than to nag a man like Sabo. He would just ignore you like he did everyone else who tried to get on his case about something, the Army’s Chief of Staff being an expert at tuning out voices. 

So, you decided to get creative. 

The next time his eyes left your person, you swooped in. His arms went up to block you, more out of habit than anything else, but you didn’t strike him the way you normally did. Rather, you snatched his hat off his head with a victorious laugh. 

“Hey!” His eyes widened, and suddenly, his full attention was on you. “That’s mine.” 

“Is it?” You placed his hat atop your head with a mischievous smile. “If you want it back, come and get it.” 

Sabo’s expression lit up as you issued your challenge, and as he positioned himself back in his fighting form, you had to wonder if you would regret riling up the Chief of Staff.  

Mihawk: 

Mihawk collapsed beside you, completely spent. You had a way of doing that to him, of working him up into a frenzy. He quite enjoyed the hours you two spent between his silk sheets, liked the sheen of sweat that coated his skin afterward. Without your appetite, he wouldn’t have much work to do, and Mihawk loved having work to do. 

You stood up from the bed, a little wobbly on your legs after Mihawk had them over his shoulders for well over half an hour. Accustomed to feeling sore in places you hadn’t known existed until your man made you aware of them, you reached down and picked up Mihawk’s shirt, the light shining through the pale fabric as you sauntered toward the table in front of the fireplace to refill the crystal wine glasses the two of you had forgotten in the throes of passion. 

Taking a long sip of yours, you walked back to the bed. You sat down on the edge and handed Mihawk his glass. 

“Thank you, my love.” His fingers brushed against yours as he took the glass. His other hand fell on your thigh, his thumb stroking the soft skin. “You wear that shirt rather well.” 

You noticed his hat discarded on the floor. “I think I’d wear that rather well, too.” You stood up and picked up the hat, placing it on your head. Turning, you approached the mirror on the wall, admiring yourself in the moonlight filtering in from the balcony. You stroked the soft white feather, so wrapped up in it that you didn’t notice when Mihawk rose from the bed until he wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“You’re right,” he said into your neck, pressing himself into you. “I think you should wear it to bed.” 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[tired-teacher-blog]

Adult Bakugou is worlds apart from how he used to be as a teen.

His prominent scowl is now replaced with a more relaxed expression, and his tense shoulders are now a lot looser.

He is no longer on edge and wishing for everyone's demise, as his years of experience in the pro hero world have taught him patience and empathy.

He's had fan girls lining up for a chance to receive some kind of acknowledgement from him since his first years as a UA student, and it's been -for the longest time- something that further pissed him off and ruined his mood as he didn't need the added attention.

_ "I still cannot believe you're the same guy who yelled at me and stormed out when I first confessed my feelings, at that moment you were as bratty as you used to be when we were still in school." you murmured softly in remembrance, tracing the faint scar on his right cheek, the same one he acquired years ago during that ruthless war everyone still remembers to this day.

To you, he was that one annoying friend whom you had to sit down and listen to while he complained about the countless love letters clogging up his locker, so when the day came -not too long ago- that you shyly revealed your feelings for the man, his reaction was nothing short of expected.

_ "Huh? What brought this on all of a sudden?" he tilted his head to meet your gaze, blinking a few times as a hint of blush dusted the tips of his ears, "besides, I already told you I only reacted the way I did because I thought you were making fun of me."

_ "That's fair, but I'm glad you gave me a chance to explain myself.." you paused for a second to adjust your posture and straddle his slender waist instead of leaning against him like you had been moments before, a smile found its way to your lips as you carried on, "you've really come a long way from the brat you used to be."

His thin eyebrows raised in apparent surprise, but his firm grasp on your thighs remained unshaken, "I have?"

_ "You truly have." a giggle escaped you as you cradled his handsome face, leaning in to place a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth before pulling back to admire the mysterious smirk curving up his lips.

_ "Care to explain?" but he didn't really need the clarification, he is one of the most intelligent people you know, and is sure to have noticed the change occuring in himself without anyone spelling it out, but you still went along with his charade, just to please him.

_ "Well, let's see.." your gaze shifted and lips pursed as you tapped your chin in fake contemplation before continuing, "you're more tolerable now, I mean you're kinda tame and boring like a sweet grandpa, and also.."

_ "Hey come on," he interrupted your obvious trick with an amused chuckle and a playful smack on your butt, "well I still got the girl didn't I?"

_ "Yes you did."

His eyes gleamed hearing your words, and his arms slid up to surround your back and bring you closer to himself before groaning the demand you knew was coming, "kiss me then."

That was all it took for you to close the remaining distance between you two and claim his lips in a breathtaking lip lock.

[roturo]

ᯓ★DASH ╰⪼┆MMM!, I JUST WANNA CONTINUE MY PACE!

⤹ featuring: jjk men and motorcycles!, smut, pussy slapping, size kink, unprotected sex, possessive behavior, jealousy, marking, breeding, masturbation, overstimulation, edging, multiple orgasms- gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, megumi fushiguro, sukuna ryomen..

⤹ next up!: bad news! (feb 2024) ft. jjk men suffering from reader having a low sex drive, ow!

february event! -`♡´-

gojo satoru

Sounds of skin slapping filled the room, he swears he was so close to cum for the second time in the afternoon. You? Maybe like the fifth? Sixth? He doesn’t remember how many times he ate you out– preferring to “skip lunch and have dessert” instead. 

The sounds of motorcycles and talking were silenced thanks to your moans. Not like he needed to hear the other people throwing shit at him. Probably just jealous that he always wins this type of spontaneous street races. 

He felt that familiar tingly feeling shocking his body from his hips to his neck, feeling how you were squeezing his cock he could tell you were close too, rings from his phone tried to win the sounds of his groans and moans. Notifications coming out from what you could catch to see– Geto asking where he was, that they needed him right now just so they could start the race. People were complaining of favoritism and how they shouldn’t let Satoru compete anymore.

“Sa- ‘toru, the- the race.” Taking breaths while trying to tell Gojo you were out of time and should stop– but all you could pronounce were small ‘ah, ahs~’ while he pounded behind you. “They can wait baby, just cum f’me one last time, yeah?” 

It was like a ritual for him to fuck you everytime before a race. Taking it as his “luck key”, even though he didn’t need it to win, he just accustomed himself to destress before racing. Not that you complain.

“They- they already know who’s goin’ to win anyway- shit- you feel so good babe” A specific thrust threw you over the edge and made your vision blurry, losing yourself in the feeling while Satoru was reaching his high too while he continued pounding behind you. “atta’ girl– there we go… yeah, take it f’me”

geto suguru

Don’t ask me how, but this man would love to see you riding him while he’s on top of the motorcycle. 

Small tired jumps in search of release while you stabilize yourself with the handlebar while Geto’s thrusts sync with yours. Caging your small body on his while he also stabilized himself by moving his hands to the handlebar, feeling the motorcycle tremble and having to put one of his feet down to stop it from moving too much.

You were too lost in the pleasure you wouldn’t even notice the white of his hands because of how hard he was gripping the handlebar, one of them moving to grip your waist instead, helping you get even deeper in his cock. All he could see was the connection between the two of you, his back pressed to yours.

“Ahh Sshit baby- S’perfect f’me–” He had to bite your shoulder to not embarrass himself and moan louder than you. His hand on your waist moving towards your core while he starts giving small slaps on your clit. The small pain he was inflicting aroused you more– taking a mental note that you would most likely forget to buy a new leather saddle for him. The both of you would already reach your highs and he would stop thrusting, making you cockwarm him, but he wouldn’t stop slapping your pussy. Loving your body reaction while he chuckled everytime you trembled on top of him each time he gave a hard slap.

Your clit was hard and pulsing because of how much he slapped it, your arousal wetting Geto’s thighs when you came again just by slapping your pussy. Feeling his hard cock inside of you he wouldn’t move and preferred to continue playing with you.

nanami kento

It all started with an innocent act. You sitting on his bike while admiring it— delicately touching it, your doe eyes and small body compared to his did something inside him. 

You just looked so… pretty sitting on his bike. Your hips rolling trying to find a comfortable position in this big bike of his– remembering the same movement when he’s inside of you. Trying to pleasure yourself on his big cock making an appearance on your tummy– not letting you touch yourself or him, you just had to cum by your movements and his cock.

He loved it. Watching your body move and using him as a sex toy– but for you it was a punishment, not being able to touch him, or to feel him in the right way stressed you a lot– making it harder to cum.

He loses the mental battle on his head and now finds himself between your thighs while you balance yourself trying to grip whatever part of his bike.Your legs caging his head even deeper in your center, he never felt so… needy for something. Being so ‘patient and tolerant’ flew across the window the moment he saw you end his bike next to each other.

Maybe because it was the two things he most adored in the world? You first, his bike second. But it doesn’t matter what was the cause, but now he’s sure the effect will be him sitting on his bike while you ride him.

megumi fushiguro

You thought it was funny? You know how easily stressed Megumi becomes when a race is coming. He’s a perfectionist, and really ambitious. So he could never let himself lose, not when he has a reputation to sustain now.

He needs to feel enough. Even though you always tell him he’s more than enough and should treat his hobby as it is: a hobby– he should take it lightly and enjoy it rather than making it something that would hurt him in any kind of way.

But the moment he saw you giggling next to one of his ‘rivals’ he’s sure something inside his brain magically turned on and made him feel an anger that he couldn’t quite describe. He trusts you. But seeing you next to someone else rather than him really bothered him.

He doesn’t consider himself as a jealous boyfriend– but you were just so perfect for him that he was afraid of losing you in any kind of way. He wouldn't admit that kind of sadness and insecurity inside him to anyone, he prefers to disguise it as rage. That didn’t quit the fact that he’s jealous right now though.

He obviously won the race, the moment you went to hug him and congratulate him you knew something was wrong. The way his body reacted to yours wasn’t normal, tough and stiff, like he was almost forcing himself to hug you lovely when all he wanted it was to fuck you infront of everybody and show them you were his.

Maybe that’s an idea for another day.

But right now when the both of you got home, he told you not to get off his bike. You were confused- maybe he’s taking you somewhere else?

Wrong.

He brought himself a chair, placed it so he was facing the right side of it. All he did was say two words.

“ride it.”

He pointed at the bike with a movement of his chin, your face showed confusion, but he was applying the silent treatment. He never did it to you– so that’s how you knew to do what he says before making it worse.

So that’s how you find yourself naked on his bike, trying to do the best you can to cum for a second time while Megumi watches, sitting on the chair jerking off his cock–. the needy mushroom tip showing how close he was, his balls visible swollen because of how he was edging himself, making sure “to save as much cum to dump it inside of you and mark you as his”

Breed you like an animal the moment you wet his bike again, leaving marks that would last days, just so the other fuckers know to not get near anything that it’s his.

sukuna ryomen

He would ignore the bike tbh.

This man wouldn’t care where he is, the moment he saw you next to his bike he knew he had to fuck you– he knew you had to mark it with your arousal caused thanks to him and that’s how he would remember you even far away from you.

But let’s be real now, this man would fuck you the moment he feels blood near his cock, it doesn’t matter anything else than you and his cock. Just pounding inside you, breeding you, and training you while you ride him saying “it’s the same shit if you want to ride a bike”

Not that he'st wrong, but you wouldn’t have a dick touching your g-spot everytime and something overstimulating your clit. But basically the same– yeah…

[faeriekit]

#i'm very pro danny accidentally adopts a whole bunch of talons previous installments

*

The next day, the body was back.

The green was gone from its eyes, but the awareness wasn't; it spent about an hour watching people go around outside Danny's apartment, which was new behavior. None of the corpses that shadowed him had shown any interest in garden-variety humans before. Now it sat at the window and watched families come home from school or head to their afternoon shifts.

That went into Danny's notes.

After that hour, it taught itself to flush the toilet repeatedly, rearranged the contents of Danny's half-assed linen closet (again) and then stood hovering over the safe where Danny had stashed the ectoplasm.

"...Okay," said Danny.

The dead body croaked. It was a new sound, but there was no context for it. Danny just kind of...wrote it down and hoped for the best.

The day after, Danny woke up at a very reasonable ten forty eight in the morning to find stray corpses feeding each other spoonfuls of ectoplasm in the kitchen.

At that point he kind of had to throw out the notes on how much each one was dosed with, because what the fuck.

"Really?!" Danny shouted, spooking the bodies into fleeing behind chairs and doors and back into his closet again. The only one that didn't flee was Danny's ringmaster corpse of the hour, of course. "You really couldn't wait??"

It stuck out a withered black tongue out at the mortician, who was, really, the victim in all of this. A victim to his parents' whims and a victim to the dead people who followed him around all the time.

This was how Danny found out that, when it doubt, the corpses could just tear through solid steel if they were motivated enough. The finger-marks were so deep and so embedded that they actually looked more like rough claws in the metal.

Great.

Danny ordered a new locking cage for the fridge on Prime and darted off to work. One of his regulars was on the table, though, so Danny just ended up doing what he would have at home— sewing up a gash in its neck and reattaching dead fingers back onto dead stumps.

On the third day, in which four of Danny's frequent fliers had learned from the first how to flush the toilet (and therefore raise the water bill immensely) Danny got a ring from a dark voice he (almost) recognized.

"Is he here?"

Danny squinted, jerking the phone further under his ear as he whipped up some scrambled eggs. The dead girl leaning over his shoulder leaned a little closer to watch the egg froth up. "Is who here? Who is this?"

"This is Batman. Is— the body requisitioned from your facility currently at your place of residence?"

Danny fully let go of the whisk. It landed haphazardly in the glass bowl he'd been stirring in. "What on Earth is a Batman?" he asked, incredulous.

"I visited your workplace previously."

Oh! "Yeah, the cop's friend. I remember now." Danny pulled the whisk out of the liquid eggs and held it out to the body. The unusually animate cadaver mostly prodded the whisk wires and paid no attention to him. "No one's here but me, though. Not that it's your business...?"

"And there are no non-living bodies currently in your apartment?"

Danny ignored the flushing noise in the other room. "I don't know, dude. They practically live in the walls at this point. Don't come over unless you have a warrant."

The call ended with a click.

His omelette turned out amazing, by the way. In case you were wondering.

On the fourth day, the ectoplasm was gone, because the corpses had apparently all taught each other how to lockpick the container in the fridge.

"Okay, some of that was meant to be my dinner. No more lotion at the funeral home now, okay? Now you all can be ashy forever. I'm so serious," Danny complained to the only visible dead person in the room.

The dead person held up a cracked egg. It was probably a gesture of peace, but now there was egg on his vinyl flooring to deal with. And. It wasn't exactly all that comforting in the end.

On the fifth day, Danny awoke to the sensation of a hand jamming itself through his neck until it punched into the mattress beneath him.

Fuck.

[maddy-ferguson]

i'm studying with notes that aren't mine and tell me why the person uses parentheses ( like this ) i genuinely think there's something wrong with them

[aakeysmash]

prompt here; reader going on and on about how they never find someone and bakugou is just looking at them ready to snap

hehehe love this prompt tbh 🌸

"Katsukiii," you whine, throwing yourself on your best friend, who was previously chilling on his couch. He grunts, merely acknowledging you, before pushing your head away from his chest and keeping on scrolling through his phone. You've been best friends since kindergarten, and even if you're both adults now, when you're bored you just go to each other's house to do nothing together. You find comfort in knowing you can keep on being silent together, with no type of pressure whatsoever, and no need to find topics to dwell on either. Just pure, unfiltered and plain tranquility... well, kinda. After a few moments of silence, you start poking his cheek to gain his attention.

"Keep doing that and you'll find yourself missing a finger, fucker," he tells you, side-eyeing you. You immediately see his eyes glimmering. "Look," he says, turning his phone to make you watch a tiktok about a monkey slapping a baby. He chuckles, but when he sees you're confused he mumbles something along the lines of "you're always so fucking boring," then smacks your hand away from his cheek and keeps on scrolling while frowning.

"Find me a boyfriend," you suddenly tell him.

He snaps his head toward you. He must have heard you wrong. "The fuck you said?"

You huff, getting up and pacing around the room. "I mean, you know me, right?" you ask him, looking at him expectantly.

"Damn right I do, you've been pestering me for more than two decades," he answers, rolling his eyes. He gets up too, going toward his fridge to take out a water bottle.

"Then find me a man, since you know what I like," you say, following him.

He chokes on the water he is gulping down and you have to pat his back to make him stop coughing. "Why the fuck are you searching for a man?" he raspily says, glaring at you, hands on his knees and trying to catch his breath.

"Why wouldn't I search for a man?" you ask, tilting your head a little, still massaging his back. He just stares at you for a moment, but when your expression doesn't change he just lifts a finger and points at you from head to toe.

"Are you saying I'm ugly?!" you exclaim, giving him a hard slap on the back. He coughs again, caught off guard, shaking his head.

"I need love too, you know? The few men I've been seeing in the last, I don't know, three years, were all boring as heck," you complain, going back to the couch and sprawling yourself on it. "I just wish I had a big, strong man by my side, you know? Matter of fact, keep that in mind when you search for it, okay?" you continue, face smushed on the couch pillow, looking at his still crouching figure. Then you turn your body around and stare at the ceiling. "I want someone serious who I can build my future with. I'm tired of people who only want to fuck."

"Okay dumbass, but why are you fucking searching for a man?" he asks you, ignoring the sad tilt to your voice, getting closer. He crosses his arms and looks at your face, still standing up near the couch. From this view, he looks gigantic; his bulging biceps are almost bursting out his sweater, and you feel hotter the more you look up.

"Katsuki, do you want me to punch you in the face? I'm not that ugly," you say rudely, recalling what he just said and trying to focus on the words escaping your mouth.

"I did not fucking say that, yn" the blonde barks back, the vein in his temple pulsing. You just huff, annoyed, and close your eyes.

Everything is still for a while; then you feel movement beside you before feeling one of his calloused hands on your forehead. He barely touches you, but you feel his presence. You feel he's here, next to you, warm hand on your face, thumb barely tracing little circles on it, and it calms you down. He's always had this effect on you: you remember him driving all the way to your campus while you were still in college just to curse you out for stressing too much on exams, and it always worked back then too. You lean into his touch, sighing.

"I meant to say you don't have to search for a man, men should be searching for you. And generally speaking, you wouldn't have to search for a man if you just opened your eyes a little, dumbass," he says, softer than you ever heard him being. You turn your face a bit and do as he just said, finding yourself a palm of distance from his own face.

You keep on staring at each other for what feels like hours, his hand still tracing your features and gently massaging your scalp. You don't think you've ever seen him so relaxed. You both get closer to each other, losing yourself in the moment, when-

"You mean to tell me I have a stalker?"

He pushes your face on the couch, hard, before screaming at you to get immediately out of his house. You are thrown into a fit of giggles, and before he can get up you bring him down on you.

"I guess you’re big and strong enough for me," you say, smiling.

[trifoliate-undergrowth]

So I’m in a deeply red incredibly conservative state.  I ran a pride month 5k awhile back. The usual group of 3 protestors with an incredibly loud bullhorn showed up to yell at us about how trans people are mutilating themselves and AIDS is God’s judgement and we’re a menace to children etc. etc. etc. But they were vastly outnumbered by runners and volunteers. One of the first race announcements was that they hadn’t ordered enough T-shirts for the amount of people who ended up running, and would have to reorder, so anyone who wanted another race T-shirt should sign up now.

We’re all used to the protestors by now, they show up everywhere. We just ignore them. Interacting with them just encourages them.

I hadn’t realized how early the race date was this year compared to previous years and hadn’t prepared as much, and there were a lot of hills; not to mention there was some confusion as to the race route which resulted in the announcer referring to it post-run as a “4-mile 5k” (they are supposed to be about 3.5 miles. One guy ended up in an entirely different district of the city from where the race route was and still finished first.) I ended up walking a lot of the race, but I finished it, and did do a fair bit of running.

I had top surgery a few years ago but I’ve only gotten comfortable running shirtless this year as body fat redistribution happened. I had been trying to decide if I wanted to run shirtless or not before the protestors showed up and started yelling, then I was like ah. I will run past the transphobes shirtless like a human middle finger. And that is what I did. was wearing delightfully garish rainbow shorts I found at a thrift store and my pink triangle necklace.

Some Americorps volunteers were directing runners at one of the more confusing junctions, I high fived one and panted that I had just joined Conservation Corps. The sound of angry bullhorn shouting faded almost immediately behind us, and there were rainbow flags hanging in several of the yards we ran past throughout the route.

As in previous years, a lot of tough incredibly fit beautiful older people, mostly women, breezed past me during the race. One jogged up even with me with an encouraging “what would you do for a klondike bar!” I wasn’t sure how to reply to this and didn’t have the breath to express that I did not want anything thick or creamy at that moment, but what did come out was “you did remind me that there’s beer at the finish line.” Another lady who walked and jogged near me for awhile near the middle-latter half of the race talked a bit and complained that one of the volunteers organizing the race hadn’t set up the “water” table with fireball shots that she did for some other races and we just got a regular water and gatorade station!

Coming back to the finish line I was handed a flag and ran past long rows of cheering people. Around the corner the protestors were still lurking, but were mostly silent now. Apparently they had gotten worn out by just standing there and not running. As I passed the bullhorn guy shook himself out of his torpor enough to give a halfhearted “is it a man? is it a woman? who knows anymore?” I passed him and the sound of cheering, and then the 80s music (I remember Blondie and ABBA) they were blasting closer to the finish line.

Once most of the runners were back there was a fun run for the kids. A couple of the older ones had also run the 5k (I just know the protestors were awful to the poor guys ughh) but all of them made a lap around the parking lot and got handed medals. All of the adult volunteers and participants spread out around the middle of the parking lot so that there was someone cheering and waving flags for the kids along every step of the route.

There were free snacks, water and beer courtesy of our sponsor [brand redacted]. There was also non-alcoholic “beer”, which I thought was nice to see, I’d been thinking there was a heavily alcoholic element to a lot of local queer events. I drank a lot of water and ate some food before getting a free beer, which still hit me pretty hard after the run. While I was hovering around the refreshment table a big handsome butch came up next to me and I noticed a faded tattoo on her arm of a chain, each link a different color of the rainbow.

I went to put something down in my car just as the protestors were starting to leave, and realized that they were moving on a course that overlapped with mine as I walked to my car. I decided I wasn’t going to stop or veer out of their way and just see what they did. As I got closer they seemed to be talking about how we had definitely totally noticed that they were leaving (no one had.) They noticed me coming towards them and suddenly got quiet, avoided eye contact and skittered out of my way. Ha.

I stumbled into the nearby fundraiser to cool down and sober up in the air conditioning before I left. They were playing girl in red, rupaul, that girls/girls/boys song by Panic! at the disco, and that Taylor Swift song “You need to calm down” that some people on this site complained was cringe. The lady next to me sang along to “shade never made anybody less gay.” I bought a baseball hat.

It’s easy, I think especially if you’re very online and not very active in your local community, to start feeling like there’s no queer community in your area and we’re outnumbered by people who hate us. Unless you live in the middle of Westoboro Baptist territory that’s generally not true. I cannot stress enough how incredibly conservative and red my area is. We’ve got like 3 very loud people with nothing better to do who bother us at every event, and large amounts of people across all demographics who show up in support. I’ve been thinking about this post by @headspace-hotel about not being able to find stuff online and this is a slightly different thing but yeah. If you don’t know what there is in your area, you don’t know what you’re looking for or where to find it when searching online. If you search “is there queer stuff happening near me” google is going to shrug and recommend you Products And Services that it can Sell You. When I moved back home after spending some time in a much more blue state (but which had much less of a sense of community--I think it’s the way we band together down here when we know just what the stakes are) I felt like I was going to be the only trans person in the state, then someone mentioned to me that there was a local private facebook group for trans people to share personal posts and resources with many hundreds of members. There are more of us that aren’t on facebook. The Facebook group, though, introduced me to many more resources I hadn't known were in my area.

Get outside. Find some sort of local queer event and ask around. There will be other queer people. There is very likely something you’re interested in already happening or people who would love to work with you to start it if not. Even if you’re in a very red very rural state, you’re not alone, and chill or neutrally polite people vastly outnumber the few assholes, it’s just that the assholes are very loud and especially if you’ve been marinating in overwhelmingly toxic online environments it can feel like they’re everywhere. They’re not. Don’t give them that power.

The current legal landscape is terrifying and needs a lot of work but it doesn't reflect lived experiences. Get outside, find your local community, show up to in-person events if at all possible, it’s so encouraging.