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drurrito · 2 months

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Crash

Summary: Pulling this from the vault, I don't have the will to come up with a better title.

Pairings: Natasha x Reader

Warnings: Violence, blood, cursing...

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This was supposed to be an easy job.

You curse loudly while crouching behind a desk, loading your clip and shoving it back into your gun.

“Cover me,” the woman across from you demands and you don’t have much of a choice--watching a flash of red sail through the room and incapacitating one of the guys shooting at you. You manage to gun the other one down and take the lull in violence as an opportunity to get the hell out of there.

“Don’t,” she warns.

“I’m here on other business, this is your mess,” you hiss.

“You’re staying where I can see you,” ignoring her, you clutch the briefcase and dash towards the stairs. You can hear her footsteps coming towards you for a few seconds before a loud blast makes your ears ring. You look back, she’s out cold and there’s a rather large green man howling over her motionless body.

“Shit,” your legs won’t take you any further and you mutter another curse as you charge towards the man. He’s huge, you might just die, you think to yourself while raising your arms, here goes nothing.

“Hey!” you shout, even his eyes are a deep green, reminding you of what the sky looks like before a tornado spawns to pummel a landscape.

He growls and takes a step towards you but is quickly barraged by bullets from the other end of the corridor. Now’s your chance, you’re quick to scoop up the woman’s body and make your way down the stairs to the next floor.

You can feel the cries of the building’s foundation when you realize that taking the stairs will lead you to someplace six feet under. You find the nearest elevator and pry the door open with a gadget, using another to zip you and what you wished was anything but an unconscious woman down and out of the building before half of it crumbles down to nothing.

-----

She thanks you with a fist to your face as soon as she wakes up.

“Hey! Chill out!” you spit, you focus so much on detaining her limbs that you don’t account for her head.

You stumble back a few steps and she tackles you to the ground, not feeling half as light as she did when she was limp in your arms a few hours ago.

“If you wanted to be on top, you could have just asked,” you grunt, still struggling underneath her when she shoves a candle stick against your throat. Her legs are hooked under your hips, not giving you much room to maneuver-usually this position is followed by something a little more pleasant than this, you think.

“Who are you?”

“Y/n," you strain.

“Who do you work for?”

“Myself,” you yelp out in pain as she twists the candlestick a little farther into your neck.

“Who do you work for?”

“I just told you.”

“Not good enough.”

“It’s going to have to be--I have a quasi-handler and that’s it. I’m a one woman show,” you grunt, the candlestick loosens a bit against your neck.

“That building-”

“I was applying for a job, what did it look like I was doing?”

“Stealing.”

“You’re good,” you wince instead of wink, you’re throwing out that candlestick the first chance you get.

“How did we get here?”

“Ever heard about the theory of evolution?”

“Shut up, tell me what happened.”

“It’s hard to talk with you trying to put a hole in my neck,” she finally lets you up and you gasp, letting the air fill your lungs. You make your way over to your chair, reclining with a huff. She stays on the floor, bracing herself against a bruised and bloodied arm.

“Some big green guy busted in, knocked you out cold.”

“Bruce,” she whispers quietly enough that you don’t hear her.

“Looked like he was gonna crush you so as soon as someone started shooting at him, I grabbed you and left.”

“Where am I?”

“At least 25 miles away from the building,” you glance at her, “it’s gone, building folded in on itself as soon as we touched the pavement outside.”

“I need your phone,” she tries to get up but is quickly seated by the shooting pain in her torso. You’re out of your chair and by her side, she flinches away from you, the fiery look in her eyes makes you restrain the urge to try and find the source of pain, you’d like to keep your hands for just a little longer.

“You’re hurt,” you slowly reach for her this time. You mentally give yourself a gold star for helping with a steady grasp on her pinky while she dragged the rest of herself onto the couch.

“Phone.”

“Doctor first.”

“No,” she holds up the candle stick as a threat and you scoff before you realize that she’s too stubborn to be couch-locked by whatever pain she’s in.

“Fine, be my guest,” you hand her your phone, “try not to die on this carpet, I just had it cleaned,” she glares at you while the phone rings, you barely hear a man’s voice on the other end.

“Clint? I’m okay, can you get my location?” you almost don’t recognize this new shade of voice on her. It’s soft, laced with a little worry and care--you decide that kind of tone would have made the candlestick sting a lot less.

“That’s the only easy part, we’re still trying to recover the asset and Bruce is still on the loose-can’t get you until tonight.”

“I’m not alone,” she tips her head in your direction.

“Friendly?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Do what you gotta do and hole up, we’ll get there when we can.”

“I’ll be here.”

“You better,” Clint hangs up and she breaks the phone with such ease that it takes you a second to realize you’re without a phone now.

“Right, I didn’t need that anyway,” you mumble, she tries to get up again and you calmly press a palm against her shoulder.

“Unexpected guests are still my guests,” you insist and she shoots you a look. If you’re going to be a hostage in your own home, you might as well be a good host.

“Stay here, I’ll get you some things, I need to call the doctor anyway.”

“Don’t call anybody.”

“Relax, he has to come get this briefcase, he’ll be discreet,” you head upstairs and she stubbornly lifts herself off the couch and takes a look around the room. Her gun and batons are on the counter but are quickly reunited with their respective holsters on her body. She notices a file with papers spilling out of it and opens it up to skim over the contents.

“Like a modern-day robin hood,” she mutters, almost feeling guilty for giving you such a hard time.

“I never got your name,” you call out from the top of the stairs. You let out an unamused sigh when you see that she is up and about. You figure if you had half of the resolve she does then maybe the trash would get taken out a lot more often.

“You don’t need it.”

“But you asked me for mine?”

“I didn’t need it either, you gave it to me anyway.”

“You had a candlestick to my neck,” you retort, she shrugs and you throw everything in your arms onto the counter.

“Clothes, towels, trauma balm,” you make your way to the fridge and push a truce-flavored bottle of water towards the woman before turning your attention to the fridge.

“I’m making tacos,” you don’t catch the high arch in her brow, too focused on filling the room with something much more delicious than the tension between you.

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“A few broken ribs, bruising, and some stitches for your head but you’ll live--I gave you the good drugs too,” the doctor stands up to leave when you hand him the briefcase.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, seriously--I don’t need people knowing I make house calls.”

“I hope this has everything you need,” you shake his hand.

“You always get it done,” he leaves without another word and you approach the woman splayed out on your couch. Heavy drugs giving a mild effort in wearing down the stoic look on her features.

“When are you getting rescued?”

“Few hours,” she grumbles.

“Here,” you put a plate on the coffee table, “shower’s down the hall, let me know if you need help.”

You grab your own plate and put on some music, figuring that your guest wouldn’t be much of a talker.

“You help people,” her voice a little raspy from exhaustion and the drugs.

“I try to, yes,” you sit back down, “and you?”

“Same boat,” she cracks, sitting up. You don’t see her briefly inspect the food before taking a bite out of a taco.

“Natasha,” she says, her mouth full, “Natasha Romanoff,” the corner of your mouth ticks up into half a smile, a small celebration for a rather monumental victory.

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Natasha towels off her hair and hobbles back to the main room.

“I told you I could help,” you catch her in time to see her wave you off.

“Maybe next time,” she gives you a smirk and before you can even process what she said there’s a knock at the door. You open it to find a man with a messy mohawk, muscles bulging out of his vest.

“Tash?”

“In here, Clint,” he briefly meets your eyes while you step aside to let him in.

“She’s only a little broken, but she’ll make it,” you joke and your newest house guest is unimpressed.

“Christ, Bruce,” Clint grunts.

“Bruce, the big green guy?”

“Yes.”

“You know him?”

“Yes.”

Your jaw drops a little in disbelief, not expecting this to be the product of some friendly fire.

“Let’s go home,” Clint swiftly throws Natasha’s arm over his shoulder and they make their way towards the door, you walk with them.

“Sorry about your phone, and your face,” Natasha’s lips pulse with guilt.

“Better than some broken ribs and stitches,” you tease, thankful to be just out of her reach when you see her arm twitch at her side.

“Don’t crash any more missions,” she says somewhat sternly.

“I could say the same to you,” you smile, she scoffs as Clint carries her to the car. You don’t move until they disappear down the road.

#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #works #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader

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jewreallythinkthat · 24 days

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Shabbat shalom Jews in my phone ♥️

Last week's challot in their photoshoot pics ft a chopping board I'm still making, and my great (maybe double great) grandmother's candlesticks which are well over 100 years old

#jumblr #jewish food #jewish joy #challah #shabbat #שבת שלום #עם ישראל חי

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blessedbygookim · 4 days

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Chapter 498.

This was the most RUMBUSTIOUS shit that I have ever read.

Never, have I EVER, gasped so loud in my life.

Made me laugh in disbelief. Scoff, and put my phone down. Go out and touch some grass. Started helping my mother with gardening and I know jack shit about flowers. (Did yall know there is a flower that only blooms at night called Epiphyllum oxypetalum, aka Queen of the Night? Me neither but now I do know, thanks for that ma’)

Taejin Cheon, I hope you get folded up like a paper plane, thrown right into a trashcan, and lit on fire.

Whack ass, busted ass, dusty ass, mediocre ass, disappointing ass, peanut butter and cum sandwich ass, dumbass candlestick. Perish.

#lookism #lookism webtoon #comics #webtoon #taejin cheon #vin jin #cheonliang

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copias-girl · 1 year

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The Papas vs Technology Headcanons

Ask and you shall receive! @ivyanddaisies

Prompt here

Primo

Ok Peepaw has no use for social media or technology. He’s still marvelling at his vintage tube tv, because he’s old and he was around before the tv <3 And he’d literally rather send a raven with a message rather than text. You pushed him to give it a shot, and being the sweet elder goth that he is, he gave it the good old college try just for you. Alas, he grew frustrated easily. He kept having to whip out the reading glasses to read what was on the screen, and he couldn’t tell if that vibrating in his pocket was the iPhone or if he was having a seizure. Not to mention, he accidentally activated Siri on several occasions and he thought the spirit of a demon was speaking to him and apparently telling him the weather forecast. The only thing he really found a use for was the gardening stuff on Pinterest, but he has plenty of books in the library for that anyway. And as for nudes? He has a Polaroid camera for that. Our sweet old man much prefers the feeling of answering calls on his candlestick phone, and he’ll gladly leave the selfie-taking to you ♥︎

Secondo

Alright, Mr. Worldwide tries to be hip and cool, so he definitely owns the latest iPhone. However, he’s had to replace it several times because when he gets frustrated, that thing goes flying across the room. He tried to use the voice dictation one time and his entire text came out hilariously wrong so he threw his phone out of one of the ministry windows. He texts with one finger like an old man, never uses emojis (he calls them hieroglyphics), and he keeps telling you that he wants to “duck your brains out”. He genuinely tries to take selfies, and that can be hit or miss. Sometimes it’s a typical old man selfie where you can see all the way up his nose, but he did execute this fantastic shirtless selfie one time,,, Bone Daddy starts an Instagram where he makes a few adorably lame posts trying to be edgy and dark. But he mainly uses that to post selfies (ones you’ve taken of the both of you) to show you off. He loves when you send him dirty pictures and he’s also found that FaceTime is perfect for some,,, fun activities 👀

Terzo

Oh my god, the biggest social media whore. He’s only two months younger than Secondo, but he’s somehow overcome his oldness and mastered the art of the iPhone. He has an Instagram, where he posts pictures of the two of you on dates or in bed together covered in rose petals and lip prints. Dude even has Snapchat, where he updates his story with some chaotic videos every now and then. He can text with his thumbs, but he does make some really hilarious typos which are exceptionally frustrating when he’s trying to sext with you (this man demands nudes from you constantly). He actually knows what most emojis mean- he will literally text you the eggplant emoji next to everything 🍆- and only has to ask for your help to decipher some of them. He rubs it in his brothers’ faces as much as he can, calling them old men because they don’t know how to use tech as well as he does. And Secondo finds his use of emojis really irritating because he has no idea what the fuck ‘🤪😝🙃🫠🥴🙄🥸💀’ means

Copia

Oh, Copia. Sweet pitiful Copia. He tries, he really does, but this man has no idea how to use emojis. He types with one finger, makes plenty of typos, and always uses the rat emoji for no apparent reason. Also, he disperses emojis into sentences so his texts always read like this:

Ciao 👋🏻🐀 bella 😚 I am going 🔜 to feed 🧀 my rats 🐀 want to come 😀 with me?🤝🏻

He’s such a dork and you never ever correct him because it’s just too charming. His selfies are often painfully awkward, because he thinks that just staring dead-eyed into the camera and snapping the picture constitutes as a selfie. And he’ll post those on Insta too, sometimes with captions that he got off Pinterest. Or sometimes the captions will be about rats for literally no reason. However, he does make awfully sweet posts about you that have your heart melting when you read them. This sweet man LOVES when you send him naughty pictures and rile him up via text. It gives him a thrill and makes him feel so special. Copia also surprisingly uses Pinterest occasionally, because he finds it relaxing. He’s such a gentle soul, and he enjoys saving things about pet rats, aesthetic things that he’d like to show you later, or even some recipes that the two of you could cook together. However, he doesn’t use Pinterest correctly. He doesn’t pin things, he just screenshots them (because you taught him how to take a screenshot). So even though he isn’t the most religious social media user or the best at working technology, he tries and has a good time ♥︎

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 1 year

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I HAVE ALL THE CHAD THOUGHTS READY

first one, can i PLS have a blurb about in scream 5 when chad gets stabbed in the backyard, reader goes outside and sees it, losers her shit, and has to be pulled away from him (kinda similar to the one scene in scream 6)

Warnings: stabbing, blood

my taglists are here + you can requests here at any time

—

Initially, the party was a memorial for Wes. Everyone quickly forgot after a few beers — and shots —, though, acting like it was a regular party. Music was blasting, people were laughing and making out as if there wasn’t a masked killer on the loose.

Did they all forget what happened in 1996 and 2011?

You seemed to have forgotten too because your mouth was on Chad’s, making out on Amber’s couch.

Neither of you were insensitive to Wes’ death. People just mourn differently. Wes and Chad had been friends since middle school, his death had affected him more than a lot of people present tonight. Although he came here to celebrate his friend, he was tired of being sad and needed a distraction and comfort, which he all found in you.

There was no rush as you kissed, just gentle caresses and tender touches. Chad’s hands were on your waist, fingers slipping underneath the bottom of your shirt. You would rather have his hands groping you under your clothes, but you had to keep it PG-13.

He trailed his lips down to your neck, causing your fingers to curl into the material of his shirt. ‘’Want to go upstairs?’’

‘’Like…upstairs?’’ Chad questioned, halting his kisses.

You nodded, closing the gap between your lips again. Strangely, Chad didn’t kiss back.

He gently pushed you away. ‘’Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ll have to pass on that tonight.’’ His hands rubbed over your thighs, wishing tonight was just a regular party.

You laughed, sitting back on his lap. ‘’Why? You think I’m the killer?’’

Beneath you, Chad baffled. ‘’No no no!’’ he quickly said, then pulled you close again. ‘’Look, usually I would be all in for going upstairs, but tonight is different. According to Mindy’s Stab rules, people who have sex at parties are more likely to get killed and I kind of don’t want to die. I’m also a legacy, which makes me one of the targets. I’d rather not take the risk.’’

‘’We could lock the door. Stay there all night. Amber’s parents won’t be back until tomorrow.’’ You dragged your finger along his jaw and down the column of his throat, trying to get him to change his mind.

‘’The safest option is to be down here, with all the people—’’ Chad insisted, but you put your sulking face on and got off him. ‘’Where are you going?’’

‘’Getting some air.’’

After sending five messages in the span of twenty minutes and not getting a reply from you, Chad decided to go look for you outside. It wasn’t safe to go by himself — another of Mindy’s Stab rules —, but you were his girlfriend and he was worried.

Candlestick stick in hand, he ventured into the darker part of the backyard. ‘’Y/N?’’ he called into the dark.

Chad wasn’t easily spooked, but right now he didn’t feel comfortable. With the recent events with Tara, and Wes and his mom, he couldn’t be blamed for being a little scared of shadows and dark places.

He called your name again, and his phone beeped with a new message. Chad reached for it and drew his eyebrows as he read. Come find me, it said with a like of your localisation. Without thinking twice, he clicked on the link and let his phone take him to you.

Playing games of hide and seek was nothing new for you and Chad, but you were never that cryptic. It was usually just a picture of something at your location and him to find you. This was a trap.

He let his phone lead you to you, relief washing over him when seeing you were fine. He put his hand on your shoulder and your heart almost jumped out of your chest thinking it was the killer. ‘’Finally!’’

‘’Fuck, Chad, you scared me!’’ You hit his chest, but he didn’t react.

‘’What’s the weird message of sending me your localisation?’’

Confusion formed on your face. ‘’What? I didn't send you my localisation. My phone is at 1% battery, it's basically dead.’’

‘’Then who—’’ Chad's question was quickly answered as ghostface emerged from the trees and a scream - - from your throat.

Chad quickly turned around and tried to hit the masked killer with his candleholder, but ghostface stabbed his knife right into his thigh. It was Chad’s turn to scream — of pain, this time.

‘’Chad!’’

He aimed again with the candleholder, hitting ghostface right in the face.

Getting away would have been the smartest idea, but you couldn’t leave Chad there. Once the person was tackled to the ground, you grabbed Chad’s hand and dragged him away, running and limping through the excruciating pain in his bleeding thigh.

It was a matter of time before ghostface would get back up and go after you again. You have seen enough Stab movies to know they always get back up.

You kept running, trying to reach Amber's house before he caught up to you, but Chad was slowing down. ‘’Come on, babe. We’ve almost reached the back porch.’’

You caught him as he was about to fall, helping him stay up and supporting him all the way to the house. It was difficult, Chad's bodyweight being much heavier than yours, but you made it.

Unfortunately, ghostface made it too and stabbed Chad’s shoulder, the abruptness of the knife making him topple forward on the lawn.

Screams from the partiers on the back porch echoed, yet no one came to help as ghostface kept stabbing your boyfriend. Fucking assholes.

You tried to fight back, but the killer stabbed your lower stomach. Blood seeped through your shirt rapidly, your hands automatically coming over the wound.

‘’Help!’’ you screamed desperately, looking back at your classmates.

One of them kicked into action and a pair of arms pulled you back from Chad.

‘’No! Help him!’’ You struggled against their restrain, trying to get back to Chad. ‘’Chad!’’ you screamed with tears streaming down your face as ghostface stabbed him again and again and again.

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @marzipaanz

#chad meeks x reader #chad meeks martin imagine #chad meeks martin x reader #chad meeks martin #scream 6 imagines #scream 6 #scream 5 #scream 5 imagine

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taergalive · 6 days

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So there's a trend going around of asking a millenial and a Gen Zer to mimic certain things (i.e. pick up the phone, roll down the window) to show how much time has changed. Imagine doing that with the hazbin crew.

Charlie; Pick up the phone. Angel: (pantomimes picking up a cell phone because he's with the times) Alastor: (Picks up a receiver and the base of a candlestick phone)

#hazbin hotel #shitpost #Alastor #Angel Dust #Charlie Morningstar

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dezzyartz-mh1228 · 1 month

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Pls tell me I'm not the only one who thinks that Alastor from Hazbin Hotel would definitely tolerate Rise!Donnie and Rise!Mikey (to an extent for Donnie at least). Like think about it, Mikey's a good cook, has a side that's opposite of his bright personality (Dr. Delicate Touch) and would probably threaten someone with a smile similar to Alastor's. Mikey and Alastor would definitely get along in the kitchen while preparing food, they'd definitely share each other's cooking recipes. I feel like he'd also be invited to gossip with Rosie. I can already picture Mikey encountering Susan and instantly hate her on the spot. For our purple clad turtle, I like to think since Alastor prefers to use old school over modern tech, Donnie would purchase an antique candlestick phone to make a new wireless one and make sure that it has similar functions with the antique he bought. Alastor would be appreciative of it, and would only use it when he deems necessary. Since we all know Alastor isn't very fond of modern technology, imagine how Vox would react when he finds out that he's acquainted with a super genius mutant turtle that is known for his sharply drawn eyebrows and high tech intelligence.

That's basically all I could think of. Feel free to use this idea for any oneshots, drabbles, shortfics or fanfics. But pls don't forget to tag me, I'd like to see others' perspectives of this idea.

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incorrectbatfam · 1 year

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Got any Carrie Kelly headcanons? She is such an underrated Robin

For those of you who are new here, Carrie Kelley is technically the third Robin after Jason. She's had a couple of cameos across different universes (like as Damian's acting teacher), but the majority of her appearances are confined to Frank Miller's The Dark Knight Returns where she is a 13-year-old girl who takes up the Robin mantle herself after an aging Bruce returns to the vigilante scene. Her canon sucks, but since I'm out here butchering the batfam anyway, I might as well revamp her characterization.

In regards to her place in the batfam, I think 13-14 is a good age for her because it helps fill in the gap between Tim/Duke and Damian, plus it adds balance because the rest of the girls skew older and it gives her more room for growth. Also 13 is prime Chaotic Weird Girl age and Carrie would absolutely be one

And I know she was briefly Batgirl in canon but can we also revamp that? There's a Batgirl void that she can totally fill but canon is like unseasoned boiled brussels sprouts. In my mind she's Batgirl but with a better costume, different mindset, and keeps her fun and distinct firecracker slingshot

Every time she goes shopping with Alfred, she comes back with another candlestick. She's up to ten now and they're all sitting in her room, fire hazards waiting to happen

She volunteers to help with the kindergarten and she's really good with kids... when she's not acting like one herself. She comes home after the first day with finger paint all over her face

A carjacker tries to break into the Batmobile and she just walks up to them like "Excuse me that's not yours"

She always keeps the dictionary up on her phone in the unlikely event she needs to prove to someone that contranyms are thing

She knows exactly what certain words mean, but pretends she doesn't and uses them wrong in the family groupchat because she knows Bruce will ask, which forces the other batkids to not only explain what a malewife is, but also correct Carrie by demonstrating how to use it correctly

She remembers every Taylor Swift song by heart and she's not ashamed

"Any pool is a public pool if you have the initiative," she says before selling wristbands for Bruce's pool

She gets the pets their own phones so she and Damian can text them throughout the day

She asks Bruce before taking any money, but the way she frames it is weird. For example, she'll ask him for a hundred bucks to buy some video games because that's the market price only to get them for $20 at a garage sale and spend the rest at on a really expensive burger

She's one of the privileged few to come across a person buying 300 watermelons in real life

Her invitations to hang out are like "Wanna come over? We can watch a movie or clean the Batcave, whatever works"

Damian is the "don't eat meat" type of environmentalist, but Carrie is the "I'll spam you with sad turtle pictures so you'll recycle plastic" type of environmentalist

She stocks up on Teen Spirit deodorant so she can say she smells like Teen Spirit

Her makeup skills are... not good. Jason mistook her for a Joker sidekick

She also snuck into Jason's phone and hid one of his Robin pics in his profile

She clips her nails during Bruce's briefings

Carrie and Duke go to the bookstore and see who can find the most Written By A Male Author book

She drinks water with a dash of olive oil

At galas she wears suit tops with skirts and light-up Sketchers

Carrie also doesn't care too much about gender or pronouns. She has a "she/they" pin on her backpack, but that's only 'cause she found it on a bathroom floor and liked the color

Her favorite nap spot is Bruce's favorite chair. It's a huge plush armchair and she's small enough to pass off as a cushion, so Bruce always has to double-check before sitting down

Carrie can read cues in other relationships, but not her own. After Kon offers to refill Tim's drink she's like "ooh he likes you" but when a kid at school gives her flowers on Valentine's day she's like "I think they were just being friendly"

She's the only Robin not to have dentists ask about broken or missing teeth

At a sleepover, she and a few other kids catfished someone on Hinge using a terrible teacher's picture

Her drawing skills are pretty good (not Damian level though) and one time when Dick was sad she drew him as the Dreamworks crescent moon kid

She's friends with the old lady that shops at Trader Joe's the same time she does every week

She puts all her phone calls on speaker. ALL. OF. THEM

She goes to Canada on a short mission and promises to bring back souvenirs. She brings bagged milk

#carrie kelley #robin #batgirl #batfamily #batfam #batgirls #batkids #batsiblings #batman #batman family #dc comics #headcanon

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dewedup · 7 months

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Hi Gloom dearest💙

Is it too late to request #42? With Mountain and....whoever you like.

💙

great minds think alike 😈 so @mac-and-thefox and @amara-among-the-stars this is for you both! i hope you guys enjoy it 🤗

⁴²⁾ “let me give you a reason to stay in bed.”

mountain/swiss/dew, somno, wax play

Dew awakes and groans at the sensation of something trying to suck the soul from his body through his dick. He cracks an eye open, tilting his head down to see Swiss staring up at him from underneath his lashes, mouth wrapped prettily around his cock. He groans again, tossing his head back and melting into his pillow as the multi ghoul continues his ministrations.

“Switchblade,” Dew moans, squeezing his eyes shut as he wills his brain to jump into full consciousness, the threads of sleep still trying to tie him down. Swiss hums encouragingly, taking his time bobbing up and down on the dick he coaxed into an erection with soft touches and his warm tongue.

A choked gasp leaves Dew as a stray hand finds its way to his balls, fondling them in tandem with the movements of the warmth sliding over his shaft. His hips punch up to follow the receding mouth, but strong hands find their way to his hips, pinning him down so that Swiss can continue at his own pace.

“C’mere,” Dew pleads, making grabby hands at the ghoul who pulls their mouth from his dick with a soft pop. Swiss leans forward, letting Dew bury his hands in his hair, dragging him up his body until their mouths meet. He licks into Swiss slowly, taking his time to explore every crevice of his mouth, tasting himself on the ghoul’s tongue.

Lightening sparks outside the window, bright enough to sneak through the crack of the curtain and Dew trills at the sight.

He loves a good storm.

The sound of the rain pelting against the window soothes his body as he continues to make out lazily with the warm body above him. Thunder crashes and he finds that he would love nothing more than to just stay in this bed all day. He says as much out loud when Swiss pulls back to pepper some kisses down his neck. He feels lips pause on his neck for a second, can basically hear the thoughts running through Swiss’ head as he processes the pillow talk Dew had unthinkingly whispered into the dark room, only being illuminated by the red candlesticks on the dresser and the flashes of lightening.

“Let me give you a reason to stay in bed,” Swiss murmurs, kissing and nipping lightly at Dew’s throat before he sits back, settling on Dew’s thighs as he reaches for the bedside table and grabs his phone.

Dew chirps in a questioning manner, pushing up on his elbows to get closer to Swiss to see what he’s doing, but Swiss places a hand on his chest, pushing him back into the bed.

“What the fuck,” Dew protests without any real bite, but doesn’t mind the position, resuming the task of trying to become one with his pillow. His eyes are sliding shut as Swiss stares at the screen, waiting for something. He’s just about to fall back asleep when Swiss grinds his ass into Dew’s still hard cock, jerking him back awake before he can drift off.

“I called in backup,” Swiss elaborates, shifting his hips again to keep Dew’s attention. Dew barely registers the words, groaning as he reaches up to pull Swiss back down by the shoulders, slotting their lips together again as he starts slowly grinding up into the multi ghoul.

Dew’s barely paying attention to anything else as he watches Swiss raise himself up, reaching blindly below himself to grasp Dew’s cock and put it in the correct position. It’s like his favourite movie, Dew could watch the way Swiss slowly slides down his dick for hours, on repeat, and would never get tired of the way he screws his face up slightly until he finally sits flush against Dew’s pelvis. He doesn’t hear the door open, doesn’t see the other ghoul sneak in, until a movement out of the corner of his eyes draws his gaze to Mountain.

The earth ghoul is pulling his shirt over his head, watching Dew’s favourite film intently. Dew does a doubletake, turning to stare at the giant hovering by the dresser.

“Remember? I said I called in backup,” Swiss teases, giving his hips a slow roll to accentuate his words. Dew swears under his breath, hands flying up to grab Swiss’ hips as the multi ghoul moves sensually, grinding, rolling, and bouncing on his dick with soft movements. It’s so sweet Dew can feel a cavity starting to form in his molar.

He’s so entranced he doesn’t see Mountain make his way over, doesn’t see the golden glow moving with him until he feels it.

A white-hot burn on his stomach, a hiss leaving Dew’s lips as he jerks in shock. He’s barely recovered from the first touch that the second one feels like a slap in the face. His head whips up to look at Mountain, watching the earth ghoul smirk dangerously, his face illuminated by the red candle stick he holds above Dew.

“Colour?” Mountain asks, and Dew has to concentrate very hard to hear what he says over how fucking turned on he is right now. Swiss doesn’t relent or give him a second to process the words, instead he starts bouncing faster, taking Dew deeper every time he drops his hips. Mountain snaps his fingers, pulling Dew’s attention from where he’s watching himself disappear into Swiss with every movement.

“Fucking green,” Dew hisses, face flushing partly in embarrassment, but mostly due to how utterly wrecked he feels already. He’s almost ashamed of how needy the whine he releases sounds to his own ears as Swiss continues to pick up pace, splitting himself open on Dew’s cock while Mountain teases the candle, tilting it either way but not letting the wax drip again.

Dew stares at the flame intensely, wondering when Mountain’s going to hit him with the burning wax again, the first two drops have already almost cooled, unable to solidify completely with how hot Dew’s body is currently. He groans as Swiss clenches down on him tightly, eyes rolling back into his head as Swiss bucks like it’s the last thing he’ll do.

“Mount,” Swiss gasps out, reaching a hand to start jerking himself off as he continues to impale himself on Dew’s dick. Dew feels his own orgasm within reach, his cock twitching as he fights off the inevitable.

And then it finally happens, a large dollop of wax drops onto the tender surface of his stomach, practically sizzling his skin. Dew shouts hoarsely, coming instantly at the contact. Swiss moans too, painting Dew’s stomach with thick stripes of come. Dew’s so fucking out of it he doesn’t even realize that Mountain’s been jerking himself off this whole time, shuddering loudly as he adds to the mess on Dew’s stomach.

#mountain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #swiss ghoul #wax play #somno #cnc somno #fic prompt #gloom answers #gloom writes

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slicznymartwy · 9 months

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just a short little idea i had :3 billy x reader ofc .. a little bit sad bc he can’t be disgusting all the time

i don’t rlly have enough brain for this bc i just got off a 10h shift but :(( imagine this is kind of established relationship (as much as it can be for silly billy) where you two are intimate and talk a good amount, and you’ve really talked about it, but you’re pretty sure he’s staying in your attic. you try not to think about it.

there’s a day where you have to go up, maybe for an old trunk or some piece of holiday decoration. you look around the dark room - even though it’s the middle of the day, the little window at the front of the house doesn’t let in a lot of light - and can’t see much in the shadows. you squint as you walk around, and still you see nobody. you tell yourself not to be surprised at that, why would there be anyone up there.

you find what you need and are about to bring it down when you hear claude. you didn’t realize claude knew how to get up here, and that there was even anything for him in the attic. most of the mice stuck to the basement, and claude didn’t seem to have any interest in them anyway.

you walk closer to the sound, and then claude jumps onto a box, scaring you half to death.

“jeez, warn a girl next time,” you say with a little laugh, petting the top of his head.

when you turn back to the way down, he’s standing in front of you, wearing his handsome green sweater that you always thought suited his eyes. he stares at you blankly and you tighten your hold on the candlestick (or literally whatever idk idk) so that it doesn’t drop.

“billy,” you whisper.

turning away from you, he walks towards the window and stops at a wooden table. there’s a phone there. has there always been a phone in the attic? (also clare’s not dead teehee)

you watch billy pick up the phone and hold it to his head. he doesn’t dial a number, and the busy signal must be noisy in his ear, but he doesn’t back down.

“piggy,” he says, whispering into the phone. “you shouldn’t be here.”

“it’s my house,” you say carefully.

“you shouldn’t be here,” he says again, more forcefully.

“why are you here, billy?” you ask, trying to keep your courage. it’s difficult when billy has to take a deep breath, closing his eyes. he pressed the ear piece against his forehead and groans.

“go away. go away. i don’t want to. don’t want to go,” he’s murmuring, away from the handset. like he doesn’t want you to hear.

you step closer to him.

“how long?” you ask him softly.

“did you go to the beach without me?” he says, voice pitched up to a woman’s. “without me?”

you close your eyes a moment, realizing he means that he’s been living here since the summer. next week was the start of march.

“okay billy. it’s okay,” you say quietly, moving closer to him again.

he steps away from you, and it breaks your heart. he presses the phone to his mouth again. “filthy billy. filthy.” his voice is loud but it trembles. it must be a bad idea, but you don’t care. you rush to his side before he can react and wrap him in a hug. the phone clatters harshly to the table and you can still hear buzzing tone.

you try to lie to yourself. you tell yourself that it’s not so bad that he’s been living here for almost a year. it’s normal for your stalker-turned-boyfriend to live in your attic without you knowing. everything’s okay, and you tell billy the same thing as you stroke his hair.

“piggy, piggy,” he gasps, hands fisting in your sweater. he’s crying now, his face against your neck. “i’m sorry, piggy. i’m sorry.”

“i know you are, billy,” you say. you kiss the side of his head and look out the window. it’s so sunny outside, and the snow melts dirty puddles of mud onto the sidewalk. “it’s going to be okay.”

your life would certainly make more sense if it wasn’t. but you’ve known this from the start. you’re as addicted to him as he is to you. his pig. his slut.

#billy lenz #black christmas (1974)#billy lenz x reader #slasher x reader #slasher posting #just a little something for myself hehe #very short but i think i want to elaborate one day #i like the thought of him using the phone like a tether even when he’s having a face to face convo #₊*. ⋆༘ — uli writes

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hazbintrashbin · 2 months

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“I’ve got a little SQUISH on you!” (Aroace/AAspec ft. RadioRose (Alastor x Rosie) Pt. II

When did they realize they had a 🦑 squish 🦑??:

Part I 🌹 | Part II 📻

Alastor 📻:

📻 You could pull every tooth from its bed, tearing the nerves from its nestled dens within the depths of his gums...

📻 But you could never, ever get Alastor --

📻 The ever-elusive yet dangerously strong Radio Demon himself --

📻 To admit his woes.

📻 They will always and forever remain in his back pocket. Better yet, it'll remain in the little tin cookie container, tucked among all of the bobbins of thread and needles and scraps of fabric, hidden beneath the cluster of shoes and clothes and miscellaneous items in Alastor's large, dark closet.

📻 It was an early morning in Hell. About four in the morning.

📻 Alastor ambles across the swamp, wearing nothing but a loose cotton shirt and simple pants, a long rifle strapped across his back. On his shoulder, he hauls a limp hog.

📻 "Oh, a pitiful creature you are!" Alastor says as he approaches the end of the swampland. There, his dining table awaits this fresh lump of meat. Tossing it onto the table, Alastor doesn't bother to change apart from poofing himself a clean cotton shirt.

📻 "But how delicious you'll be!" Alastor sits, grabbing a nearby fancy box. He pulls out a large knife and a rod. Idly, he rakes the knife across the rod.

📻 And he rakes, and rakes, and rakes. The metal shavings begin to glitter across his lap.

📻 Slowly, his eyes trail toward a thick cord, following it up a ladder heading toward the door in his ceiling.

📻 The trapdoor is cracked open --not because he left it that way, but because of the damage it received (along with the rest of his studio) from the epic battle between them and the Angels.

📻 Alastor's raking hand slows to a stop.

📻 Up in that room amidst the debris is his microphone. The stand's been fixed, but the mic's damaged. Alastor's been making it work as he attempts to fix it, but...

📻 He sighs, his smile growing small.

📻 If he could've beaten that damn Adam, he'd be an even stronger overlord than he already is. Perhaps even stronger than many hellborns. He'd probably even be able to fight himself out of that shitty deal...

📻 Ring, ring!

📻 Alastor's ears shoot up in surprise.

📻 Ah, yes! He'd gotten a personal landline from his dear friend Rosie not very long ago!

📻 Without realizing it, Alastor stands from his seat to swiftly move toward the phone, grinning wider than before.

📻 It's an elegant candlestick-styled landline encrusted with golden swirls and molded from a beautiful, shimmering red.

📻 A gift that could be from no one other than Rosie...

📻 "Hello, Alastor speaking!"

📻 "Alastor," Rosie laughs heartily, and Alastor's cheeks press into his eyes as he basks in her moment of amusement. "You don't need to answer the phone that way, you know!"

📻 "Oh, but I simply want you to know that you're speaking with me, my dear!" Alastor says cheekily.

📻 "I see... so, does that mean the Radio Demon himself has an imposter on the loose?" Rosie asks, matching Alastor's sass. He can almost feel her signature sharp grin growing ever wider.

📻 "Of course not!" Alastor chirps. "Because I'd have already tracked him down and killed him!" Instinctively, Alastor's free hand pulls itself into a tightly balled fist, a green glow suddenly shooting from his being as he feels the souls swirling within buzz with life, his horns stretching across his torso.

📻 Truthfully, the very thought of someone imitating him and potentially tricking Rosie pisses him off. Perhaps he should go out and make an example of someone... you know, just to keep the record straight.

📻 Rosie laughs even harder. "Oh, Alastor! I wouldn't have believed it for a second!"

📻 "Hm. Is that so?" Alastor's horns shrink, and just that quick, he's calm. He sits at his dressing table, leaning into his hand as he presses the earpiece further into his ear.

📻 "No, what do you take me for, a fool?" Before Alastor can say anything, Rosie follows up with, "I could never mistake anyone else for you, hun."

📻 There is a short pause, and Alastor hums. Rosie continues...

📻 "I have a peculiar feeling, though. It's the reason I called you today."

📻 "Oh? And what would that reason be?" Alastor asks. He lifts his head from his palm, preferring to twirl the earpiece's cord at the moment.

📻 "I haven't seen or heard from you since that crazy battle two days ago. I know you're still healing Alastor --"

📻 "Not at all!" The words shoot through Alastor's teeth, and Rosie falls silent. The quietness between them grows as Alastor tenses for a moment. His smile feeling quite forced now, he clears his throat.

📻 "I'm doing just fine, Rosie. Is that all you wanted to say?" Alastor's ears remain pinned down, and he drags his pointed nails across the table's surface, making light scratches in it. There's a low, rumbly sound on the other line. Rosie's humming.

📻 Finally, she says, "I know you too well, Alastor."

📻 "Really?" Snarkily, Alastor says, "I think there's more to know, my friend!"

📻 Rosie asks if that's a joke or if he seriously believes that. Alastor replies but doesn't necessarily answer the question.

📻 Honestly, he doesn't know if he's joking or not either.

📻 "You're irritated." Rosie simply says.

📻 "Not so --I feel quite well this morning!" Alastor insists.

📻 "You're not usually up at four, nearly five in the morning. Your day starts at six or seven, maybe seven-thirty going on eight if you're sleeping in late." Rosie says firmly. The tightness in her voice makes Alastor's grin slowly pull back into some kind of snarl, his nose crinkling. Heat rises within him, his face going from a purplish gray to a deep magenta.

📻 "Rosie," Alastor chuckles, but nothing's funny. "What do you know of my schedule? No one knows my schedule."

📻 "I know you usually start your morning with a hunt and a cold meal." She says.

📻 "Many people do!" Alastor replies.

📻 "Usually, you're already dressed, but given the time, I bet you're in your drabbier clothes."

📻 "Hah! I'm fully dressed!" Alastor says, awkwardly glancing elsewhere at the blatant lie.

📻 "With a smile? Sure. In your day clothes? Absolutely not!" Rosie huffs.

📻 "Well, what does it matter to you, Rosie?!" Alastor snaps, his fist slamming onto the table. Rosie laughs a little. It's adorable, but it only pisses him off more.

📻 "And losing your temper? Now, that's really not like you, Alastor." Rosie says. Alastor grunts. Being taunted into acting out of his character... is unlike him.

📻 And pretty embarrassing, actually.

📻 Especially on the phone with Rosie...

📻 Trying his best to regain control, Alastor slowly lets out a laugh of his own. It's a little weird-sounding --not entirely forced and not entirely genuine...

📻 "Come on, Alastor," Rosie finally says, "Tell me what's wrong."

📻 Alastor remains silent, however. His lips purse into an uncomfortably tight smile.

📻 "You know how I know something's wrong with you?" Rosie asks.

📻 Alastor remains silent. After a while, Rosie says...

📻 "You're speaking without your radio voice."

📻 Somehow, Alastor's brows furrow even more. His spirit shrivels into a tiny ball, and if he had a tail --truthfully -- it'd probably be tucking itself beneath his behind by now.

📻 "Alastor the Radio Demon has a very distinctive voice, you know!" Rosie says, "But every now and again, when it's an odd hour of the day, and there hasn't been any broadcasts, or those baby overlords aren't complaining about a certain radio demon on their little picture boxes or tiny telephones..."

📻 "When I don't even hear a Cab Calloway song or a ragtime piece playing on your channel... I know there's something wrong with my dearest friend." Rosie finishes her explanation, now going silent. Alastor remains silent as well.

📻 A few moments pass.

📻 "... Alastor? Are you there, Alastor?" Rosie asks.

📻 "... Of course I am, my dear."

📻 With his refusal to say anything else, Rosie sighs deeply.

📻 "I suppose you don't want to tell me." She says.

📻 "Well --" Alastor is interrupted by Rosie.

📻 "Ah, ah, ah! Don't worry about it. I won't push you any further." She says this so sweetly, a smile evident in her tone.

📻 After a moment, Alastor can't help but think to himself, "She's the only person in all of Hell who could get under my skin like this and yet survive."

📻 Does she realize how special she is?

📻 Then, Alastor shifts in his seat, leaning into his chair and tucking his free hand into the sleeve that is his arm and torso.

📻 Indeed, she's a special demon after all. How could he ever stay mad at one of his closest friends?

📻 Alastor's spirit slowly lifts and expands inside him, and before he knows it, his mouth moves on its own.

📻 "You have always been so earnest, Rosie," he says, "It has always been the spirit I've admired in you."

📻 "Oh!" Rosie seems caught off guard, and Alastor finds himself laughing. For real, this time.

📻 His ears lift as do his shoulders. Everything's brighter just that quickly.

📻 "You've always been so charming, my friend!" He continues. "A one-of-a-kind demon belle."

📻 This time Rosie gets to laugh.

📻 With half-lidded eyes, Alastor shifts to lean into his hand again. He takes this moment to simply enjoy the sound of Rosie's laughter this early hellish morning.

📻 "Oh, Alastor," she coos between her giggles, "You're the most!"

📻 "And you're the mostest."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

WOO!! Finally done!!

I did NOT intend for Alastor's part to be so long! Like, BRO, when I finished writing it (FINALLY!) I just sat back and checked the time… it went from 11PMish when I started to damn 2, goin’ on 3 o’clock!! I was like “WTH??!!” 😭😂😂

Plus!! I feel like the beginning is kind of slow, but, BUT I think y'all gonna survive based on the rest of the story!

That said, I kinda feel like this part of the “Squish” collection leans a lot more platonic as compared to Rosie’s part, but I thought about it and was like: “You know, that’s not necessarily a bad thing!” After all, while I personally HC Rosie as someone in the grey area of aroace, I always imagine Alastor as someone who is romance-indifferent (based on how he behaved in the comics when some of the ladies of cannibal town were swooning over him, otherwise, I don’t know if there’s been any other info from the creators about his feelings toward romance (not smex!!), but I don’t get the impression that he’s disgusted or completely put off by it —just disinterested, if nothing else). As such, I felt like someone like Alastor, while not seemingly as bothered by the idea of intimacy/romance as much as he is seggs, would probably not think romance or even behave in such a way when dealing with someone he’s especially close to. At the same time, with the kind of chemistry he has with Rosie, I can easily see an intimate bond between them. Is it sexual intimacy? Absolutely not. Romantic intimacy? … Ehhhhh, so-so but not quite, especially on Alastor’s end. Is it simply a deep, emotional kind of intimacy? Slightly blurring the lines between platonic and romantic?? Well, yeah, kind of like that!

All and all, I’m still deciding what kind of quasi-platonic relationship I want them to have. I feel like it would be a kind of intimate relationship where certain forms of intimacy are welcome (cuddles, hand-holding/arm-linking, hours specifically reserved for each other (dates, lol), innocent kisses here and there, etc), but in honor of Alastor’s sex-averse nature, I imagine sex, for example, isn’t really something they would engage in —if ever at all, honestly.

And I think I feel fine with that. There’s plenty of Alastor content that completely ignores his sex-averse nature for the sake of a spicy fanfic, and to each their own I suppose, but I do think there could be at least a fair amount of content (shipping or otherwise) that still at least tries to respect Alastor’s orientation.

Although, at the same time I feel like for those who challenge Alastor being paired with anyone, many of them are starting to imply (or flat-out say) that bc of his aroaceness he couldn’t possibly be in a relationship of any kind?? That he’d be utterly repulsed by it??

On one hand, if that’s your headcanon, do what you want! Plus, there are def aroace folk who don’t want to engage in relationships of any kind, and that’s valid, too. On the other hand, I’m a little concerned that a lot of people are starting to (once again) associate all ace, aro-, and aroaces with this inherent disgust or disinterest in intimacy! I feel like this is snowballing into the “aces/aros/aroaces are emotionless/can’t love/robots” kind of thing!! And this time, it’s being perpetuated by other aroace/aspec people!! Which is crazy!!

All in all though, I just feel like —bottom line —if you’re gonna ship Alastor, at least try to be respectful of his orientation. However, let us all keep in mind that being aroace/aspec does NOT mean you “can’t love”/care about some intimately. That may not include sex/romance, and if it does, it may not look the way it’s depicted in allo relationships, but that doesn’t make it any less valid. Idk. It’s just something I’ve been noticing lately… IDK!!! It’s complicated, lol.

Anywho, I’ll finally get off my soapbox again!! lol. I believe I said I’d follow up on this miniature RadioRose collection with a few HCs?? Like a traditional HC list?? Soo…. Yeah!

Hope you guys enjoyed the post, long as it is —and all of you stay tuned!!! 📻

Part I 🌹 | Part II 📻

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