#Black Gene For the Next Scene

[6-3-2-9-6-2-12-9-2-13-7-6]

[ 20150519 ]

[stochastique-blog]

Okay, this is interesting

[gilverrwrites]

STOP WAIT THE TIM DRAKE WITH SIONIS!READER THAT WAS AMAZING

love academic rivals to lovers frfr

anyway but tim is also canonically a high school drop out so sionis!reader finishing school without him (technically dropped out when bruce went missing) 💀 idk why but with roman hating the wayne clan so much, I could see it being kept secret.

like a cute little forbidden fruit/secret relationship. robin & the daughter of the most notorious crime lord in the city?? jeez and you wanna ask why bruce/roman are paranoid /hj

but it's them sneaking around and then tim obviously leaves for his search for batman, dropping out of school, and it leaves sionis!reader all alone.

and then tim comes back!! and bruce is back but bruce doesn't really matter to them(reader), because tim left without a word, without a goodbye, and now he's back and I can imagine all the changes between that happened in that year he was too, the angst of him coming back.

like, would they try to find tim? would they try to go to wayne manor and figure out what the hell happened? I feel like it opens the door to possibilities between them

Hang in there, this is a real rambley ramble.

Ngl, I was picturing it for when he went to Ivy (which he also dropped out of lmao), and I like the idea of them being upfront about it for the comedy/reluctant acceptance angle, but there is still the potential for drama. However, I can see the appeal of them keeping it totally secret too (I'm gonna talk about that later in the post).

For now, heres my vision: You’re Romans favourite kid, his perfect lil angel child, the only one who wants anything to do with him so he dotes on you (to the extent that Roman can dote on anyone) and you go to him one day like; “I get perfect grades, I never miss curfew, I help with the family business, I never ask you for anything, PLEASE accept my boyfriend.” And at first `Roman’s just like… “No.”

Queue the “But Daddy I love him!” tantrum.

Unlike with Jason, Roman has never had any strong feelings toward Tim other than a general distaste cause of the Wayne association, so eventually he tries to come around, but it’s just awkward, and Tim hates it too cause he know your dad is Black Mask, and he can’t do anything without risking being exposed as Red Robin or upsetting you by causing a scene/fight. Is it to much to ask for the two most important men in your life to get along for one dinner? Please?

So, every time they meet the vibes are just off. However, they’re both trying really hard to get along cause they love you.

One night Tim unintentionally catches Black Mask red-handed and he can’t not do his job. The whole time they're fighting, Tim has this whole internal monologue going on about whether he should let Roman off with a warning for your sake, but eventually he’s like WWBD?

So, he hands Roman over to the authorities and the next day he sees you and your bawling! Inconsolable! Your dad is going to prison, your life is ruined. You’re also a bit of drama queen but validly tbh, what will this do for your social standings? Your college applications? Your career aspirations? Fuck Red Robin, you hate that guy!

You were raised by Roman Sionis, of course your inherited at least a little of his melodromatic genes.

Even though you're distressed Tim can’t keep from being like ‘You're mad at the wrong person here! Red Robin is the good guy! You're dad is the criminal, he wouldn't have been arrested if he wasn't a bad person! Who does bad things! He needs to face justice!”

It becomes a massive-ass argument until you’re like “Why can’t you be normal about this? I love my dad and this is going to have a huge effect on my life, why can’t you just be upset for me?”

Tim doesn’t have an answer cause the answer is "I'm Red Robin" but fuck that guy, right? The whole issue goes unresolved.

Or maybe he does snap and tell you the truth but that just makes things worse! "You're my boyfriend and you arrested my father! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?"

When you visit him at Blackgate, your father is quietly elated by the break up, he doesn’t say as much. He plays the concerned father, offers you comfort. He reminds you that when he killed lost his parents, it started a new age of loyalty amonst the Sionis clan. As long as you're good to your family (him), it will be good to you. Oh, and btw, he needs you to handle a few things while he's gone. Don't worry, your family pisses money, he'll be out of here in no time but this stuff is important and time sensitive, and he needs you to keep it on the down low.

The next time you see Tim, he’s Red Robin and you’re the one he catches in the act.

Also, Tim telling that Bat-Fam “So yeah, I’m seeing someone new, it’s Y/N Sionis.” And everyone looks at Steph for a second, then back to Tim and is like “Dude! Get a new type!”

Also also, you visit the Wayne family for the first time, and after growing up drilled to hate these people you’re lowkey so nervous. You’re expecting them to hate you, because you learned nothing from presuming the same thing about Tim. The youngest one is definitely scary, and the butler must be convinced you’re gonna steal something because he will not allow you to be left alone (he’s remembering teenage Roman hanging out with teenage Bruce and being the worst), but otherwise everyone is actually kinda chill. Maybe a bit overly polite but not unpleasant.

But I can totally see the appeal of them keeping it totally secret too. Especially if Tim tells you about being Red Robin. How it might force you to come to terms with your morality by enabling your father/not holding him accountable. Major existential crisis material.

Of if he doesn’t tell you, the angst of your boyfriend just up and leaving without a word, not responding to your calls, texts, emails.

When he does come back you’ve ‘moved on’. Or you thought you had until you saw him again. But after he left you high and dry you’re fuming, and won’t allow him to just walk skate back into your life.

Tim pining after you while you’re excelling in your college/job pursuit. You keep catching glimpses of Red Robin while you’re out on dates or visiting your dad. Tim tells himself he’s just vetting your new boyfriends or ensuring your dad isn’t up to no good. But really its because he’s missed you and doesn’t know how to make up for cutting you out of his life.

He also notices how you never bring your dates home. How you still bury yourself in his old hoodie at night. How you haven’t finished binge watching that show the two of you were working on together. Those little nuggets of hope are what keeps him hanging on.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Cyd Charisse (The Bandwagon, Brigadoon, Singin’ in the Rain)—LEGS LEGS LEGS I would sell my soul for the legs of Cyd Charisse - she oozed style and glamour and sex appeal!! And she could DANCE! She was dancing next to the greats - Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire but they are never who you're looking at because why would you when you can look at her. I will only sit through too long ballet breaks for her. If there was any woman who you could call sex on legs it was her. These dances are everything to meeee (she comes in at the minute mark) and this dance too of course is iconic. In the words of Fred Astaire 'When you've danced with Cyd Charisse you stay danced with'

Mbissine Thérèse Diop (Black Girl)—She’s a Senegalese actress known for starring in Black Girl, one of the first African films to receive international attention/acclaim. So much of the movie relies on her ability to convey her character’s sense of isolation/loneliness, she’s so amazing, I really wish she had acted more. However, she just recently appeared in the film Cuties!

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Cyd Charisse:

Arguably the Best female dancer of her time, she supposedly insured her legs for $5 million dollars. Stole the show whenever she had a dance number, even if she went uncredited. Musicals started to go out of fashion so unfortunately she didn't have as many big roles as she should have, but those she did are unforgettable. The Broadway Melody number in Singin' in the Rain - the green dress!

Incredibly, Cyd Charisse only started learning to dance as a rehab exercise to strengthen her body after a childhood bout of polio. She was in high demand as a dance partner, Fred Astaire called her beautiful dynamite and said "When you've danced with her, you stayed danced with". She was one of a few leading ladies to dance with both Astaire and Kelly, declaring them both delicious. Kelly apparently was stronger, while Astaire was more coordinated. She also said her husband would always know who she had been dancing with because Kelly left her bruised, while Astaire didn't leave a mark. She's better known for her dance numbers today, but she was a leading lady in her time! Her Scottish accent in Brigadoon leaves a lot to be desired, but compared to the other actors in the movie, it's almost good. She appeared in The Harvey Girls alongside Judy Garland and Angela Lansbury in her first speaking role, but she really burst onto the scene with Singin' in the Rain and her infamous Broadway Melody Ballet number with Gene Kelly (no one could handle a length of fabric like Cyd Charisse). She was brought in because Debbie Reynolds wasn't really a dancer and Kelly was notoriously a stickler about his Vision. After that she starred opposite Astaire in The Band Wagon, which was a bit of a flop but created some enduringly incredible dance numbers. She went on to star in a number of MGM movies, and was one of the last of the Studio era stars to remain on contract. Since we've got up to 1970, I'm including her opening routine in The Silencers (1966) to show just how long she was making a splash - she's into her 40s here and still a siren:

and of course, the iconic Broadway Melody Ballet -

She had amazing legs, and she knew how to use them! You probably know her best from the dream sequence in Singin' In The Rain. She was such a stunning dancer, and all her dance scenes are hard to look away from.

Legs for days, beautiful dancer in the most iconic scenes of Singin in the Rain. She's glorious. As some guys sung to her in It's Always fair weather, 'baby you knock me out!'

Photos do not do Cyd Charisse justice, unfortunately, because she is at her hottest while dancing, which she was exquisitely good at. Just go watch her first number in Singin' in the Rain, in that green dress; nothing I could say here will be more convincing that that.

Dancing in the Dark clip:

She's an amazing dancer and my favorite from the period. Here's her and Fred Astaire in the Band Wagon:

I just like a woman who's there to be really incredibly good at dancing.

She could pirouette in pointes or tear it up in taps. Fred Astaire called her "beautiful dynamite" and wrote, "That Cyd! When you've danced with her you stay danced with." Gene Kelly partnered with her three times. Her legs were (reportedly) insured for $5 million in 1952 ($57.8 million in 2024 dollars)! Everyone in this poll will be iconic, but for raw physical grace, Cyd is up there with the best.

One of the most talented female dancers in Hollywood history, but what sets her apart from other competitors for that title is that she...umm...well let's be blunt, she was the dancer who put sex into it. The one who said "Hey, you know that A+ leg tone that naturally develops from doing this for a living? Why don't I let people see that? Like at every opportunity?" She reportedly insured her legs for five million dollars after hitting it big, which just goes to show that fame makes you crazy. It should have been ten million.

Mbissine Thérèse Diop:

[cursedcola]

Question, if Silver had a child would the baby have his silver hair and eyes or his original colors like blue eyes and blonde hair?? It's been bugging me since I saw baby silver scene..

I would assume that it would be the original blonde and blue? If we go by genetics since Silver’s appearance isn’t technically without interference.

Of course it could be neither. It’s always fun when a baby pops out looking nothing like one or either of its parents. Gotta love that dominant gene.

Next thing you know Silver has a kid with black hair and looking more like their adoptive peepaw than their father. Lilia is thrilled.

[thetaxicabber]

Chapter 12 art for Voyagers of Time and Shadow!

This amazing art by @giselsann-opencommissions I'm so excited to continue getting art for this series! If you've read it let me know which scenes you'd like to see! :)

“Look,” Hermione jabs her finger onto the paper laid out on the table. Evie scans the headline.

Next to her Sebastian chokes, eyes widening. “Is this real?”

“Very,” Ron answers grimly and his eyes momentarily dart to Harry.

“Nobody has ever escaped Azkaban,” Sebastian whispers to Evie. “I told you about it…remember?”

Evie does remember. They were in the Undercroft after the Scriptorium, before he taught her any of the Unforgivable Curses. She’d heard about the wizarding prison from Fig in passing, but Sebastian is the one that told her more about it. He said that it was the worst place in the world, guarded by monsters and impossible to escape. He told her if anyone ever caught them using the curses they’d be sent there for life. Most people go mad or even die after arriving. It’s why Evie would rather have died then let Anne or Ominis send Sebastian there after what happened with Solomon. She never would have let him be taken, she'd have fought against all the aurors in the world to protect him and she would have won.

“Someone has,” Hermione lowers her voice till it’s barely a whisper. “Two years ago. But they were innocent. These are all convicted criminals, major supporters of…You-Know-Who.”

The photos are moving across the newspaper, showing mugshots of the escapees. Evie’s eyes lock on the bold name under the second photo. Her heart skips a beat in her chest. The man’s face is disfigured by pocks and the photo is in black and white but she recognizes the shape of his eyes and the set to his jaw. The same bored expression as he shifts back and forth in the frame.

Augustus Rookwood

“He…looks like Victor Rookwood,” Evie whispers and Sebastian glares daggers at the portraits. Evie doesn’t think anyone hates Victor Rookwood more than Sebastian. He's the one that cursed Anne, the one that terrorized the entire country at Ranrok's side, the one that almost killed Evie.

“Purebloods,” Hermione reasons and her lip curls slightly. “Many supremacists inter marry. Not that it matters in regards to magic. But biologically it’s terrible for their genes. Fools.” She shakes her head. "It's why they have such problems. At least that's what I think."

“They do at that,” Sebastian whispers, his face twisted in a grimace. “Ominis was potentially going to marry a third cousin if he couldn’t escape his family. His parents were first cousins. It’s disturbing.”

“How many escaped from the prison?”

“Ten prisoners,” Hermione folds her paper back up and tucks it into her brown leather bag. “All of them old supporters. Death Eaters. It’s bad.”

“So he’s getting his gang back together,” Evie reasons, resting her chin atop her hand. “It’s what I would do if I was an evil overlord. Especially since nobody seems to care that I’ve returned to power. Now is the time to gather power and allies without really anyone to stop him. It's a good way to get the upper hand. Then once power has been consolidated you strike hard and fast.”

“Put a lot of thought into what you’d do if you were evil?” Sebastian breaks the tension with a wry smile.

“Obviously,” Evie rolls her eyes, doing her best to ignore his teasing. “To end a dark wizard…or goblin,” she lowers her voice so only they can hear her. “One must first get ahead of them.”

[demonicbaby666]

Sharp Edged Pleasure

One shot | Once Upon a Time Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Pairing: Dark!Swan x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst and Smut

Words: 4.3k+

Warnings: G!p Emma (conjured), top!DarkSwan, bottom!reader, knife play (don’t talk to me about this), swearing, degradation, light bondage (rope), edging, spanking, asphyxiation (a tiny smidge maybe...), I don't know what the warning is for getting banged with a foreign object but that too.

Summary: You and Emma had been seeing each other for a little before the events in Camelot took place. Seeing her as the dark one was a shock but what came next was even more unexpected.

A/n: You know ‘We don’t talk about Bruno’? Same rules apply here.

Electrical lines sparked by the open door of Granny’s, shocking you back into your body. Everyone’s eyes, including your own, darted in the direction of the crackling’s origin. Moving to the side, unable to see past the few bodies present in the room, you had a clearer view of the doorway and your eyes fell on her. Emma. 

But this was not the Emma you knew. 

“Mom?” Henry called out from somewhere behind you, “What happened to you?”

Something had happened. Something other than just a change in aesthetic. Long gone were the Charming genes that shone a cheeky glimmer in jade irises, lying in their wake were two stony, unreeling, unforgiving eyes; eyes that were piercing right into you. Her moonlight hair was pinned back into a tight bun, cheekbones protruding outwards, sharper than when you had last seen them, and you wondered, for a moment, what it would feel like to run your fingers along the sculpted curvatures.

It felt both like an eternity and only a day since you had last felt Emma’s touch, you missed her, the real her. Not whoever stood before you. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” she began, walking forwards and lightly brushing her slender fingers along Snow’s cheek. The pixie-haired brunette shivered in response. Her hands seemed rougher and colder, “You went to Camelot to get the darkness out of me. And you failed.” her voice echoed the same change. 

Her tone was uninterested. She spoke as though everyone in the room was beneath her, undeserving of her time and energy. It had the hairs of your arm standing on edge. The switch from the gentle saviour you once knew to the dark creature in front of you was downright petrifying. 

Fright merged with a new foreign feeling, something resembling lust, but different - by comparison - to past events. Events that led to nights filled with cries of gratitude, and endless ecstasy, ending in tangled limbs, and gentle caresses. A concoction of past and present longing, mixed with spurring images, submerged you fully, anchoring you down into the depth of hidden sexual fantasies. Drunk on memories, fuelled only by desire, you noticed there was something enticing about the new air of authority Emma held, her presence was intoxicating, drawing you in for the kill. 

However, it was Sneezy who bore the brunt of her wrath, smashed to smithereens. He was nothing to her. Nobody was. And that alone should have sent you running scared, instead, it had the opposite effect. The growing desire intensified, bubbling far too close to the surface. If everyone’s attention wasn’t glued to the scene unfolding in front of them, and they gandered a look your way, they would have noticed the slight change in your stance. 

Bare thighs squeezed together under your medieval gown, the wet material of your underwear pushed directly onto your wet centre, forcing you to feel just how worked up Emma had gotten you, even if it was by doing nothing other than omitting her dark presence in a room full of hopeful souls. 

The air around her reeked of the very evil she once sought to vanquish as she stood tall in tight black leather, clutching at her dagger, haphazardly showing the crowd the name etched onto it. Emma Swan. 

“Nobody’s going to touch this dagger but me.” The object in question fogging over on both sides, wedged between Emma and Regina, “Now for what you all did to me, you’re about to be punished.” 

‘Punished’, oh how that word touched a special nerve, that you didn’t know existed, in your body. It wasn't supposed to, you knew that as you tried to fight against every filthy thought occupying your mind. 

Distractions needed to be set aside. This wasn’t Emma, your focus needed to be on getting her back. You had to say something, anything. 

“Emma, why are you doing this?” It didn’t come out in the way you wanted it to, it was small and timid, nevertheless, she heard. You knew she had as she strode over to you, face barely an inch away. There was no hiding from the heavy atmosphere in the room, gravity worked against you to the point you felt your knees giving out under Emma’s menacing animalistic stare. 

“Because I’m the dark one.”

You could only stare at this new version of the saviour as she vanished into a haze of black fog that was once white, filled only with pure light magic, now poisoned. 

When the smoke disappeared, you expected to be greeted with the shocked faces of friends and family. Instead, Emma stood right before you once again. Only now she looked taller, stronger, and more powerful. A sinful smile - that was all Dark one - adorned her blood-red lips, lips you were desperate to feel against you. Her hair was loose, free from the restraints of a hair tie, the ashy white waves flowed over her shoulders, down past her scapulae, stopping just above her slender leather-clad waist. 

A makeshift trap in the form of her stare stopped you from noticing exactly where you were. But as your eyes raked down Emma’s body the end of the bed made an appearance just above her knees. The realization jerked you into an upright position. Discovering your hands bound in rope - wrapped around your wrists almost tight enough to stop blood flow - you could only cower away, shifting your hips back until you were pressed against the headboard, knees brought up to your chest. 

Bare and bound. This was how the Dark One wanted you. 

Emma didn’t move, her hands were laced behind her back as she smirked down at your naked form on the bed. Her bed. The sight of you completely at her mercy ate away at her inner desires, or better yet her inner demons. All the darkness that was once kept at bay roared to life and there was only one person she had any intentions of exercising her fantasies with. 

Bringing her dagger around from behind her back, she inspected the blade, holding it in one hand and running a nimble finger over the sharp edges with the other, “I said you were about to be punished, didn’t I?” 

How could this have happened? Why couldn’t you remember Camelot? Questions had to be answered. There was so much to be discussed but already you were capitulating to this cat-and-mouse game she had you playing. It was captivating, refusing any logical thoughts the space to blossom into something more than mere notions of acquiring the truth. 

A scarlet hue ran over the tip of Emma’s finger, catching your eye. The small droplet grew in size, goading your pulse to quicken at what seemed to be a tactical display of one of the blade’s many uses. 

“Emma, please. I don’t remember anything. What did we do?” 

Unamused by the topic of choice, the smirk that adorned her ruby lips faded and was replaced with a scowl and eyes shooting daggers that felt sharper than the one in her hand. She waved it over her injured finger and instantly the cut was clean and healed like it had never happened at all. Of course, it did. Emma had just obtained the power to remedy any mishap with the wave of her hand, and you couldn't help but think what ‘mishaps’ would occur in her company. 

She looked back up, meeting your gaze with a blank stare, “Do you know what I’m going to do to you?” she asked sternly with a raised brow. 

A shake of your head was all you could manage. Plaguing your mind was a myriad of worrying thoughts. Emma was still inside, she wouldn’t - no - she couldn’t truly hurt you, you knew that, but as the fear grew within you; the shaking started, your skin burned rosier than moments before, Emma’s smirk reappeared, and you no longer knew where she stopped and the Dark One began. 

“I’m going to fuck you.” If the look in her eyes - determination, sureness, and resolve - was anything to go by, circumstances be damned, what she wanted would come to pass. An odd trickle of relief washed over your body. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted; it also wasn’t not what you wanted. You searched her eyes, looking for the woman you knew; the kind, caring, funny woman you fell in love with. Would she be the one to touch you, hold you? It was too good to be true, there was always a twist, “Not like before, this time I’m not going to stop, not until I hear you sobbing, then I’m going to stuff that pretty mouth of yours and fuck you senseless.” 

Dirty talk wasn’t Emma’s go-to, the few times you’d been together, she leaned more toward praise than belittling. Not that you minded. Who doesn’t enjoy being complimented amidst the thralls of passion? Hearing her speak in such a way, the vulgarity coming from her should have sent you into fight or flight, have you begging for mercy. Except, the words echoed in your ears, bounced around your body, stopping your breath in your throat, burning a path to the pit of your stomach until you couldn’t ignore the pang of wanting to come from between your legs at the very thought of Emma, no - not Emma - the Dark One, using you in any, and every, way she wanted. 

The game had begun. Your body had said yes, whether the words came from your own mouth didn’t matter, she had sensed it too, eyes darting to the darkened patch on her bed sheets beneath you. Oh the shame you felt at your body betraying you, giving her exactly what she wanted. The tinted darkness in her jade eyes morphed into a look of pure lust and desire, the orbs darkened black as she climbed onto the bed, dagger in hand. 

“Put your legs down,” she coolly demanded. 

Everything was happening too fast, there was little time to process the command before Emma yanked your legs back down, hard, pulling you until you lay flat on the bed again. 

“Emma, please. What happened in Camelot?” you urged, desperate for more information, to know something, anything, of what had happened. 

There was a flicker of what looked, almost, like humanity in Emma’s green eyes, a breakthrough, finally. 

“Stop asking questions.” her voice was harsh, the flicker gone.

Her knees, on either side of your body, padded forward on the mattress, stopping when her pelvis rested above your own. The close contact, feeling her heat pulse in beat with your own, caused the ache between your thighs to intensify, your heart to pound harder against your chest. If it weren’t for the rope around your wrists, you’d be pulling her down, ripping her clothes away, and running your hands all over her. But even so, you were not in charge here, that much was becoming abundantly clear. 

The sharp point of her dagger drew close to your chest, both you and Emma watching it move nearer and nearer skin. Darting your eyes from the dagger and back to Emma, there was no ‘in’ to her hardened exterior, no visible doors leading to a hopeful ending where you’d be able to pry the truth from her and spend the remainder of the night wrapped in her arms. 

“Are you going to behave?” she asked, the warning of what would happen if you didn’t behave outwardly mocking you, dagger now ghosting over the valley of your breasts, dangerously close to skin. 

“Yes.” You shakily breathed, fighting off the urge to wriggle away from the threatening blade. 

The cold metal pressed against the cove of your chest, sending shivers down your spine, “Yes what?” 

Breaking skin on its downward trajectory, the dagger slid downwards, leaving behind a bright scarlet line painted with forming droplets of blood, “Yes, I’m going to behave.” You choked out through gritted teeth. 

“Good girl.” 

The space between your legs was filled with her free hand, two fingers brushing through the pool of moisture that had gathered within the last few minutes, minutes that felt like they were stretching out for an eternity. The need for more quickly mounted; without meaning to, seeking out more than Emma was giving, you began to grind against her fingers. 

Her laugh echoed through the room, “You’re pathetic.” She snarled, pulling her fingers away, “Did I say you could do that?” 

The blade continued to drift along your abdomen, etching another crimson line along the surface of your skin. You could almost taste the blood on your tongue, metallic and sharp. Not wanting to make a sound you held onto the tortured flesh between your teeth - realizing only later, it was your bottom lip that was delivering, what you thought to be, the phantom taste of blood - relying on it to silence all the agonizing screams that were surfacing and being held within your throat. Another wave of pain coursed through your veins, the whole of your upper body stung, crisp air nibbling away at gashes. “No, you didn’t.” 

“No. I didn’t.” She turned the dagger, the flat of it resting low on your stomach. Bringing it up, a quiet groan rumbled in your throat when she slapped it back down against a fresh cut. Red now danced in the engraving, sinking deeper and deeper into the ridges of her name. “For that, you don’t get this.” 

Your vision went black, a blindfold appearing over your eyes. All other senses suddenly heightened. Hints of oak, vanilla, and - oh god, of course - cinnamon. You could hear the squeak of her jacket sleeves, the bed sheets rustling under her slight movements, the feel of the bed dip by the side of your legs as Emma padded backward on the mattress. 

The sound of crinkling broke through the eerie silence, and you could have screamed in frustration not being able to see what was happening. Of course, you still felt her presence, only it was further away, knees seemingly on either side of your shins, leaving little room to ponder on what all the fidgeting was leading up to. Her finger wrapped around the back of your knees, hoisting them up till the soles of your feet were pressed onto the bed, and your legs were spread open. 

“Emma, what are you-” Something hard and cold slipped into you, forcing you to take a sharp breath in, though it did nothing to relieve you, “Oh fuck.”

There was no time to think between the dagger handle entering you and the start of what could only be described as brutal pumping - hard, quick, and bordering on painful. It was embarrassing how close you already were, the build-up to this moment seemed to have you tittering on the edge before it had even started. 

You knew it was wrong. You wished you wanted it to stop. But you didn’t. It was sickening how good it felt and you would have fallen into a shame spiral had it not been for the undulating sound of blood pulsing through your ears, the quickening of your breathing, and the constant stimulation coming from being rapidly fucked into a state of mind-numbing bliss. 

Emma’s hand came to rest on your stomach, pushing you down, stopping your hips from buckling off the mattress. Pain licked every nerve ending in your body, her hand resting on mutilated flesh, delivering you that final push. Just a few more thrusts and you’d unravel. 

Thrusts that never came. 

Emma kept a trained eye on you, watching your chest rise and fall faster and faster, admiring your swollen wrists grapple harder and harder against the rope, and just when she saw you barrelling into what would have been a powerful orgasm, she stopped. 

“You really thought I’d let you cum?” She snickered, pulling out with painstaking slowness. “We’ve only just begun.”

A small whimper left your parted lips feeling how raw the ridged makeshift toy had left you. The logical part of your brain was screaming out, telling you to put an end to this - as if you had the option - beg her to untie you, heal you, and explain how things had gone so wrong. Logic, however, had no place making demands, not when rough fingers wrapped around your neck, squeezing until you were too light-headed to produce even one intelligible thought. 

“I asked you a question.” 

A switch flipped within you, whether it was from the lack of oxygen, the need for more, or the love you had for Emma, wanting to keep her close for as long as possible, you didn’t care. All you cared about was pleasing her, being her good little girl. 

“Yes, I thought you’d let me.” she dug her fingernails into your neck, airways so restricted you were fighting to speak, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have expected anything. God Emma, I just, I want you. I need you.”  

Vision taken away from you, you couldn’t see the reaction on her face, yet somehow, you felt it. Her grip on you loosened, allowing air to flow back into your lungs, the dagger was dropped somewhere on the floor, metal clanking against polished hardwood until it finally settled. A quiet fell over the room and you embraced it with open arms. Happy to just feel Emma’s body lean over your own. 

The familiar sound of magic drifted to your ears. A warm tingling homed in on your stomach. The cuts: they were becoming less painful. 

“Emma, wait.” She paused, the injured portion of your skin only half healed, “I want to keep them, even if it’s just one scar.”

Nerve wracked you’d overstepped and disobeyed her in some way, you opened your mouth to apologise, but the words never made it out before Emma’s lips came crashing down on yours. For the first time that evening, you truly lost yourself, not in the thralls of passion, or chasing a high, but in the familiarity of Emma’s lips. They were soft, gentle, she poured so much emotion into one single kiss that if there had been a curse, you were certain it would have broken it. 

She pulled the blindfold off, moving back so her face rested just an inch from your own. Gaze fixed on Emma you saw the pain guttered in her eyes, the anguish coming from everything she was fighting to bury. There was an internal war taking place, so much conflict swirled around in her mind, the voices of all the previous Dark Ones screaming so loud they were practically audible to you too. 

“I can take it.” This, you decided, was how you would help her. There was no doubt about it, the darkness lying within her had to be set free somehow, and if it was between Emma hurting someone - which she’d never forgive herself for - or this. You’d decide for her. “Use me Emma.”

Her tongue slithered into your mouth, not bothering with any pre-emptive, because you both knew, this was exactly what you wanted and what she needed. 

It was the feel of her skin, soft and smooth - a contrast to her previous attire that was now nowhere to be seen - that brought back an influx of precious memories. 

The night when she’d only just come to know your body, exploring it as though humanity depended on her finding and marking your sweet spots, every single one of them. The morning she’d cooked breakfast, refusing to let you do anything other than, in her words, enjoy the domestic side of Emma. The late-night visit you'd paid her at the Sheriff's station when no one was around to see her remind you of all the ways she knew your body as no one else had ever bothered to learn. 

“Turn around.” She mumbled into the kiss. It was an instruction she carried out herself, hands falling to the curve of your hip bones and flipping you around. The rope fell from the headboard and slipped down the back of the bed. Which left your hands free, finally able - you hoped - to feel the new Emma. Hands braced by the side of your face, you waited for what she had in store. 

And that’s when you felt it. 

She teased your entrance with the tip of her cock, circling the tight hole but never pushing in. At first, it came as a shock. Then slowly the excitement began to build. The tip alone, you could feel, was big. Bigger than anything you had ever taken, though that didn’t stop you from wanting to. Desperate to feel her inside you, every inch of her, you shifted back. Never had you felt power of this magnitude radiate from her. It was ravenous and so were you, she wanted to take, and you wanted to give. It should have worked. But Emma was not one for playing fair. 

Instantly she withdrew, the close contact you ached for snatched away. You wanted to protest, shout, scream. She already had so much power over you, and doing any of those things would be serving yourself up to her. A piercing pain jolted through your whole body, hips jerking away from the hand that had just delivered a harsh slap to your ass. 

“You’re impatient.” Her hand came down once again, the next blow to your tender flash harder, prying a small cry out of you, “What do you say?” 

“I-I’m sorry.” 

“You like this don’t you?” The question seductively slid off her tongue. She answered it herself by bringing two fingers between your legs, running them through your lower lips, “You’re dripping wet. From what? Me being cruel. Tut tut. You are a filthy one, aren’t you?”

It was useless denying it, your body had, for the god knows what time that evening, betrayed you again. 

“Yes.” You whispered into the sheets beneath you. Begging them to grip onto the words, bury the single syllable of shame in their soft fabric and never let them reach Emma; because you didn’t want her to know. You didn’t want anyone to know you were enjoying every waking second of this. 

“Good. It’s going to make this a lot easier.” She smirked. One hand gripped your hip, the other making steady work of getting Emma in place. 

With one forward motion, she pushed in, slow, half as painful as you thought it would be, and suspiciously gentle. That, you knew, would surely not last. Your walls tensed at the intrusion, slowly relaxing around her hardened flesh and allowing it to slide out to the tip again, then push back in with the same slowness. 

She kept up this tortuous rhythm until you felt your head might burst from all the stimulation that seemed like it had no clear end. 

“Emma please.” You whined. Regret instantly followed when she abruptly pulled out. 

With ease, she flipped you back around, snatching your wrists and pushing them into the bed above your head. With no hesitation, she slammed back in - using none of the gentleness she previously graced you with - and was met only with your cried-out whimpers.

Seeing her on top of you, there was so much determination in her eyes, but something else too. Given the circumstances, you couldn’t tell, not when she was filling you repeatedly, leaving barely anytime to breathe let alone think. So, you let yourself believe it was a mirage, a trick of the light, not, in fact, the glimmer of true love. 

The bed shook, scrapping against the floorboards with each full force thrust that were coming fast and hard. All you could hear were your own cries of appreciation mixed with Emma’s heavy breathing and the sounds of her thighs repeatedly slapping against your ass. The ridged veins of her shaft offered the perfect friction, sliding along your g spot and delivering waves of pleasure that had you gasping and writhing beneath her slick body as she continued pistoning in and out of your wet sex.  

“Shit, Emma, I think I’m going to-” 

It felt like the ground beneath you fell in, swallowing you whole until you were nothing but a mere watcher in the expanse of the universe, locked onto witnessing this moment for an eternity. The evil swarmed your two merged bodies, ventricles of black ink daring to penetrate the intimate bubble you’d created. You saw the inner battle, Emma fighting the darkness, protecting you from its insatiable appetite to devour and destroy. 

It was a deep connection you had yet to share with her or anyone. And though you may have once, ironically, wished it would have happened in another way, a perfect way; seeing Emma again, through all the mess, on the precipice of an earth-shattering climax, it felt okay this way too. Held within the orbs of green was Emma again, the real Emma. Fighting to be seen within these solemn seconds where you both became one. You sought comfort in telling yourself that was enough to justify what was happening. 

“Please don’t stop.” You begged, not sure whether you were speaking only about her ministrations, or also, just maybe, about her resurfacing from the clutches of darkness. 

Her grip loosened on your wrists, allowing you to fling your arms around her neck in the same moment she lunged down and pressed her lips to yours - gentler than anything she’d done that evening - tipping you over the finishing line, Emma, following closely behind. You tensed around her cock, your walls clamping so fiercely to it that you felt her pulsate inside you. Ribbons of cum filled you as Emma groaned and slowed her thrusts down to a halt, the last leaving you spent and tender. 

Too stubborn to pull away, you poured everything you had left into the kiss, pulling her harder against you, urging her to continue her excursions on your lips, to stay inside you for a mere few moments longer. 

“Let me stay with you.” You mumbled against her lips. 

When she pulled away, to gaze into your eyes, see you again. You saw a decision had already been made.

“Give me time, it will all make sense soon.” 

Black fog engulfed you. She was gone. 

The bed you now laid in - fully healed and dressed in one of her oversized shirts - was your own. 

Tags: @criminallyobsessedcm @babygirlscout @7thavenger @storiesofsvu | click here to be added to my taglist

[cellarspider]

15/30 Unearned imagery

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⛬

We return to a movie that isn’t getting a funny intro this time, Prometheus.

Big content warning this time for Holocaust imagery. This one can be skipped without losing anything about the plot, because it covers only one half of a very brief, non-vital scene. In fact, I’m putting up two posts today, because this scene has the potential to be truly, hurtfully bad, and I don’t want people walking away from my blog feeling like that. That’s not what I do here.

For most of the movie, I have very few complaints about the set design. It’s very well-done, and, “DNA MATCH” excepted, generally shows a level of thoughtfulness that the script does not match.

However, it pushes too far this time.

Fifield the geologist and Millburn the biologist are stuck in the alien structure, thanks to the baffling decision that they shall be the sacrificial first deaths of the movie. Fifield was making the group’s map of the structure, but whatever. In contravention to what you’d actually do when two untrained people are stuck in a survival situation, they have not been given much instruction on what to do, and nobody has been assigned to monitor communications from them. They are, instead, getting the haunted house treatment.

Gene Siskel called Alien “a haunted house film”. Most of the tension of the movie comes from the environment itself. The xenomorph and its life cycle are very memorable, but they really aren’t on screen all that much. Instead, you have the alien structure of the ship on LV-426, and the often dark and industrial corridors of the Nostromo as the primary drivers of audience paranoia. 

Set dressing has been important to this series from the beginning. As is the implication of what the xenomorph can do. The holes burned through the space jockey’s ship, the hole in its chest, make it quite clear that the human cast is walking into something that’s destroyed more powerful things than them. 

Prometheus has already shown us that a couple of times, far more explicitly. The opening scene shows the immediate and complete deadliness of the black liquid carried on the ship. We already know something went wrong, and that the dead body the human crew’s already desecrated was probably infected to some extent.

We don’t need what happens next. Somehow, I completely forgot about this until I watched the movie a couple years ago, and I would’ve been fine with remembering a version of the movie where this didn’t exist.

Fifield and Millburn find a pile of bodies, some of them with the characteristic wounds caused by chestbursters in the rest of the Alien movies. It makes no sense, given what we’ve seen of the black liquid–it’s highly corrosive. And the xenomorphs in other movies don’t leave bodies like this.

But in case you didn’t get the visual reference they’re going for, the script is here to make it especially gratuitous: “Looks like a scene out some sort of holocaust painting, you know?”

Not a painting. Photos. This appears to be referencing the photos that were taken of corpses in Nazi gas chambers.

This is the single most tasteless thing in the movie, by a wide margin. It doesn’t need to be here. It doesn’t connect to anything else in the plot. And the movie hasn’t earned this. It is a thoughtless moment, in a movie prone to thoughtlessness.

Tearing into this movie is mostly fun, but damn it, this one isn’t. 

Lighter fare in the next post, which is coming shortly.

⛬ 

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⛬

[live-from-flaturn]

KimChay: under the mask

I didn't see this coming, but, uh... here we are.

---

In this au, Kim and Chay do not meet during the canonical timeline. The Kittisawats still move into the compound, though, and Porsche's photokinetic powers activate/turn Korn to dust during the first Nampheung reveal.

With Kinn's funding/support Porsche starts taking down large swathes of the criminal underworld. He becomes an established Bangkok superhero, known for his charm: The Phoenix.

---

Kim is a wide-eyed, soft-smiling pop idol by day... and a superpowered vigilante by night.

After his Father's ruthless experimentation activated a dormant gene in Kim's DNA - and therefore his latent psionic powers (telekinesis, pyrokinesis, and teleportation) - he's been donning a special suit built for him by Arm & Co. in secret to help take down Korn's empire. Kinn wants to legitimize the businesses and secure them a real place in the word and Kim wants to help.

So he helps whenever he can by aiding The Phoenix in the guise of his own alter ego, Masked Shadow (he let Khun make it up, okay? it's his own fault for wearing an all-black ensemble and full facial covering).

---

Chay, still smarting after everyone he loves made enormous and life-changing decisions on his behalf (without once consulting him), decides to take a walk on the wild side.

Shortly after Phoenix and Shadow have cleaned up the neighborhood, they find themselves directly targeted by a new face on the scene. A young, brash, dangerous villain who dresses in bright colors and goes by the nickname 'Songbird'.

His fights with Phoenix are brief and tumultuous, ending with bruises for both parties, but something about his energy with Shadow is different. Like he wants to be caught in some moments and can't live without catching Kim the next.

And Kim has been caught. Several times. He (absolutely, definitely has not) been flustered by the tall, somewhat familiar villain tilting his chin up with one finger and calling him 'naughty' for ruining a well-laid plan.

Okay maybe he gets caught on purpose sometimes.

But he needs to find out who exactly is under that mask. Definitely for justice and no other reasons at all.

[world0fmadness]

FATHERHOOD AND FAWNING

୨୧ i just live for soft and protective fathers so here is a little something <3

dad! bård who gets so unbelievably nervous, his body tensing and sitting up straighter, when a loud group of middle aged women approach him and stand next to him as he sits on a bench just next to helvete, holding the handlebars of his little girls pram and gently rocking it back and fourth to ease her back into a deep sleep before he returns home from a visit to the store back to you at your shared apartment just minutes away…

of course, the older women do not do anything particularly bad or even all that worrying! they just coo and awe as they lay eyes on the obviously young baby, shushing when they see her clad in a thick onesie, soft face at rest whilst she slowly sucks on a pacifier in her sleep, tiny hands tightly clenched around a black bat plushie and fluffy blankets tucked up almost to her chubby cheeks to protect her from the nippy norwegian winds!

dad! bård who does not blame them for being so in awe of his baby, he is very much aware of how perfect she is, he is very much aware of how she even makes all of his not so soft friends turn into mush whenever they get to see her! he knows her chubby red cheeks are almost irresistible to kiss and her chunky arms are so perfectly squishy and soft, not to mention her big brown doe eyes with the cutest little black eyelashes and her thick brown hair that is almost always tied up into short pig tails with some loose hair ties! he knows all of this more than anyone, he was starstruck when she was born, completely baffled at how he had any part in making something so perfect…

but he is just so protective and careful around her! the second he goes to speak up to the ladies, to awkwardly and almost shyly ask them to back up a little and quiet their high pitched coos since he just managed to get her back to sleep, one of the women speaks up first and asks if she’s his baby sister, if he’s taking up those big brother duties and taking her off his mothers hands for a bit! he doesn’t even get a chance to recover from his shock at the question before another one of the women begins talking, telling him how she just looks so much like him, that their parents genes must be so strong, affirming that he just must be her big brother! only when the women hum in agreement is when he manages to quickly spit his words out, telling the tiny group that no, he is not her brother and she is not his sister, adamantly telling them that she’s his baby, she’s his daughter and she was born just a couple months ago!

dad! bård who has gotten the question so many times by older people around him yet it still irritates and shocks him every time… he knows it’s because he’s young and he looks young, he is very visibly only eighteen and not many people in the area expect an eighteen year old, let alone an eighteen year old like him to have a child or at least they do not expect someone like him, someone involved in the scene that he is to want to look after his child like he does… it irritates him every single time someone asks, but he knows better than to lash out much, especially when his baby is there with him! he just wishes people would not care, wishes they would not butt their noses into his business! the odd looks he gets when people see him, a tall and lanky young man with long, sometimes greasy, hair wearing sharp band shirts and all types of obvious black metal attire, holding his baby and feeding her with her bottle, he hates how some people look at the baby with concern as if thinking he obviously is not a capable father just by how he dresses and presents himself…

luckily for him, the sudden knowledge bomb on these women is enough to make them go completely quiet, immediately lessening the risk of waking his daughter and recognising the tinge of annoyance in his voice as he speaks up once again to ask them to please leave as he needs to get going now, telling them that he needs to get his daughter home and back to her mother! after sensing his irritation and protectiveness, after seeing him slowly pull the pram further back towards him, is when they hum and bid him a semi awkward goodbye and good day! when they casually walk away from him, he’s quick to check his baby over, his eyes widening slightly when they meet her now open yet very sleepy eyes as they stare back at him, cracking a smile when she yawns around her pacifier and stretches her arms up above her head, bringing one of his hands down to stroke her warm cheek and fix the thick blanket around her before mumbling to her about how strange some people are and chuckling quietly when she makes a head movement almost like a nod, as if agreeing with him!

dad! bård who takes a slow walk back to your shared apartment, the streets of oslo quiet as the golden afternoon sky darkens and street lamps begin to flicker on, his hands clad in black fingerless gloves tapping gently against the plastic handlebars of the pram as he walks so much slower than usual, wanting to get your daughter back to sleep before reaching your apartment, wanting to be able to put her right into her cozy little cot the second he gets home, wanting to cuddle up in bed with you and maybe watch a movie… or do other things… yeah, he certainly would not mind doing some other things with you tonight…

and his plan works! he can see her nodding off in her warm little cocoon, he can see her eyes losing the fight to stay open as she holds her plushie tighter, he can see her body making itself more comfortable beneath the blankets! by the time he reaches the elevator of your apartment building and makes it to your door, quietly opening it and stepping inside, his little girl is long gone to the land of sleep with the tiniest snores coming from her small button nose! he’s flashing a tired smile your way as you rise from your spot on the couch and come over to meet him in the hallway of your apartment, he’s quick to accept the kiss that you lean up and place on his slightly chapped lips, he’s ringing his hands around your waist and deepening the kiss just a little before letting you pull back and tell him to put your baby in her cot! he lets you press a kiss to her cheek before carrying her off to your bedroom and laying her down in the wooden cot, placing a kiss of his own to her head and petting her cheek before turning on a small lamp, leaving the room and coming to join you on the couch in the dimly lit living room! he tells you what happened today, quietly explaining how much it irritates him that people never see him as her father! never see him as capable of being a father!

dad! bård who lets you climb onto his lap and sighs softly when you take his cold cheeks into your warm hands, lets you brush his long and wind rustled hair back, lets you tell him how much of an amazing father he is and how much your daughter adores him, lets you tell him that he is probably a better parent than half of the people judging him! he would never believe it if anyone else told him but you… he knows you, he knows how sincere you are, knows you would never lie so as much as the comments from other people might irritate him, might make him lose confidence in his parenting abilities, he lets you build his confidence right back up… he lets you begin to smother his chilled face with warm kisses, lets you meet his lips in a deep kiss and lets his hands wander down to your hips, grinding you down against his clothed crotch, lets himself turn the deep kiss into an open mouthed one, lets the open mouthed kissed turn sloppier and needier as your breaths grows heavier…

only when he hears your daughter rouse from her sleep in your shared bedroom, loud cries beginning to echo out through the small apartment, is when he forces himself to pull away from the kiss just as you do, gently lifting you from his lap and fixing himself up a bit before going to collect his daughter and bring her back to you, knowing she’s probably just a hungry girl! if it was anyone other than your daughter interrupting such a heated moment between you and him, he would be more than just annoyed but with her? she couldn’t ever annoy him, could never get on his nerves no matter how hard she tried!

dad! bård who emerges out from your shared bedroom with your very hungry daughter in his arms, softly shushing her with coos and kisses as her cries quiet down to simple whines… the minute he sits back down on the couch beside you, he hands the hungry baby over to you and watches as you pull your maternity tank top down, letting your girl suck and get her food, wincing just slightly at the feeling, still not entirely used to it even a few months after her being born… he just cannot stop admiring you as you feed her, watching you with a soft and loving expression on his face, watching as your hand strokes her brown hair and caresses her tiny fingers when her hands comes up to rest on your breast… he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to get used to seeing you like this, doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to how beautiful you look as a mother, doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to how well this role fits you! he just gets completely lost in thought as he studies your face and admires you! you just look so absolutely perfect to him, messy hair and all! he wonders what he did, what he did to get so lucky to not only have you but a perfect daughter too, what he did to have a life he loves living so much…

when you look over at him, catching him mid admiration, all you do is flash him a smile before leaning into his side, your daughter still latched onto your breast as he wraps an arm around you and holds you tightly, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head as it rests against his shoulder, mumbling a quiet declaration of love whilst his hand comes down to stroke your daughters cheek, both of you sharing a quiet laugh when she lets out a hum at the contact… he just feels so content… so at peace as the three of you cuddle so closely on the small couch, living room warm and cozy thanks to the radiators, the dark sky full of stars and the moon shining in the glass windows of the small apartment, the apartment that felt so much like a full sized family home the second you brought your daughter home after she was born… he knows he has to get up early tomorrow for band practice, knows he has to be able to focus on drumming to make money for you and his daughter… but for now, he’s just too at peace to move… he’s just too content where he is and as you shuffle closer into his side, he only wraps his arm around you more and leans further back into the couch to let you get more comfy! he’ll go to sleep soon, he’ll take his baby back to bed when she’s finished eating and the two of you will go to sleep in your shared bed, cuddled under the blankets, but for now, he just wants to stay like this… just for a little while <3

[whumpbug]

i call this one gene had a little lamb

this is just a little drabble i wrote based on the little sheep comment i made here. i wanted to characterize gene's mother and father a bit more, as well explore gene's character (ʃᵕ̩̩ ᵕ̩̩) he's meant to be about 7 in the first part of the fic (horrible, i know).

some scenes were genuinely so sad for me to write so please look at the content warnings before reading! IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING THO. no animals were harmed in the writing of this fic. it was just sheep actor guys i swear its literally eating grass and chilling in a field as we speak

cw: animal violence, descriptions of animal death, verbal abuse, mentions of physical abuse, toxic masculinity, blood (let me know if i missed anything)

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

“Sylvia! Tell that boy to get his be-hind out here!”

Gene’s father’s booming voice made him freeze. He blinked.

He slowly turned to look at his mother from his place on the ground, surrounded by toy trains and wooden blocks.

Sylvia gave Gene a sad smile. “I think you’d better go see what he wants, baby.”

Gene gulped. His father was angry about something. That was bad news. Nothing good ever came of angry men.

“Syliva, I ain’t gonna ask again! You send him right on out here!”

Sylvia pursed her lips and swung her legs over the chaise lounge she had been sprawled out in. She closed the distance between her and her son, bending at the waist to kiss his cheek and guide him to standing. 

“It’ll be alright. Why, he probably just needs you to climb into the attic again and get down another bag of feed. Go on, Gene. Come on back when you're finished.”

“Yes ma’am.” He whispered. He shuffled his way out the door and to the front of the barn, where his father was standing, ominously red-faced.

Gene’s heart dropped when he saw what was laying at his father’s feet.

“Would you do me the great goddamn honor--” He reached over and steered Gene by the back of the neck to face the small bundle of curly white on the floor-- “of explaining the hell I’m lookin’ at?”

His voice was venomous. 

“A l-lamb, sir,” Gene stammered.

“A lamb," He scoffed. "And ain’t this the same goddamn lamb I told you to shoot yesterday?”

“Yessir.”

His words hardly came out as more than a whisper.

It was true, though. The poor thing had been born one day ago, and it was obvious right away something was wrong. Its back legs were crooked and mangled, like the bones hadn’t set properly. The sad truth was that it had no use on the farm, not even for meat. His father took one look at it and ordered Gene to put it out of its misery.

Still, Gene couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was just so small. It had such big, inky black eyes, eyes that stared right into Gene’s soul. The poor thing barely had a chance. It had never visited the soft, green pasture. It never tasted milk. It never got to play with its siblings. And he was supposed to slaughter it?

He couldn’t do it.

He had trembled there, holding the revolver, for about an hour straight until he gave up and carried the tiny creature to the barn, wrapped it up in his coat, and hid it behind some crates with the promise of checking up on it the next day.

It was stupid, yes, but he didn’t know what else to do.

"You think you get to pick and choose when to listen to me, dont'cha?" Clint spat.

Gene peered up at him with big, blue eyes and shook his head.

"N-No sir."

"Sure as shit seems like it."

"I j-just wanted to help it--"

"I don't want to hear it." Clint manhandled his single-action revolver from his belt and pointed it at the lamb.

“You’re gonna shoot it. Right here. Right now. In front of me. I don’t want to hear no whinin’, and I certainly don’t want to hear none of your sissy crap. Be a man, for Christ's sake, and shoot the goddamn animal.”

Then, the gun was cocked and shoved into his small hands. The lamb bleated softly, and Gene thought he might throw up.

“But Pa--”

“I said I don’t want to hear it.”

Gene shook. He bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood when he felt traitorous tears well in his eyes. 

He knew better than to talk back. If he refused, his father would only get more angry. Still, how was he supposed to do this? How could do this when the small creature was looking at him like that?

All Gene could think about was how white the little lamb was. It’d only been alive for a day and a half. It wasn’t brown and grimy like the older sheep, it was snow-white and soft and curly and warm and tender.

The tears won. He felt a smack to the back of his head.

“Quit yer cryin’. Get on with it. Now.”

Gene couldn’t help the soft sob that tore from his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut at the sight of the lamb curling in on itself into a tiny little wool ball. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t do this--

“Eugene Alexander Delaney. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

A hand clamped down on his shoulder as another guided the revolver to aim at the lambs small head. 

“Pull the goddamn trigger or trust me, you won’t like what happens next.”

He did trust him. He knew his punishment would be awful. So why couldn’t he move?

Finally, his father’s patience wore out. His large finger slipped over Gene’s tiny one, and yanked back the trigger with a loud pop.

It was over in a second. Gene wanted so badly to take his eyes off the visceral, gory sight, but he was still frozen in place. There was blood everywhere.

Clint pulled Gene away from the sight, grumbling curses under his breath, and walked him from the barn and to the house, where Syliva was standing on the porch, trying to get a glimpse of them.

“What on God’s green earth is goin' on?” She asked, finally getting a look at the state Gene was in.

“Your boy is a wuss is what's goin' on. Can’t even shoot a goddamn lamb that was on it way out in a few days anyways.”

"You made him shoot it?" Her voice took a dangerous tone.

"He's too soft, Syl. It needed to be done."

"He is seven years old--"

"When I was seven, I was already helpin' my daddy skin and butcher the meat from huntin' trips. This boy is too soft."

Gene stared blankly at a spot on the ground, doing his best to tune out the conversation. He hated being the cause of a fight. He wished he could be different, he wanted to be different. He didn't know why doing things his father wanted him to do put such an ugly feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Suddenly, the tension reached its peak with a shout from Syliva, demanding her husband go take a walk and cool off.

Clint stormed off, reholstering his gun and scoffing the whole way back to the barn. Gene kept his head down, lip quivering and tears falling. A small, hitched breath escaped him.

“Oh baby,” Sylvia whispered, pulling Gene close to her chest. She threaded a gentle hand through his blonde locks.

And that’s all it took. Gene erupted into sobs, and sobbed and sobbed and clung to his mother like the little boy he was. His entire body was shaking now.

“Shh.. shhh, it’s alright baby. That poor thing was probably hurtin' real bad. Your daddy was right that it wasn’t gonna make it through the night.”

Gene continued to bawl. He gathered a fistful of his mother's dress in his hand and shook his head, whimpering lowly.

Sylvia gathered her boy up in her arms and sat with him in her rocking chair, rhythmically rocking him back and forth. She cradled him close, just like when he was smaller. She hummed softly, smoothing his hair back with a gentle hand.

Gene buried his face into his mother’s chest and breathed in her scent. She smelled like peach jam. He sobbed harder.

“Let it out, baby. It’s okay. I know. It’s okay.”

The two stayed like that until Gene’s sobs turned into soft hiccups and then evened out. Sylvia kept rocking him.

••••

Gene stared down at the small, injured lamb at his feet.

It was bloody. There was a deep wound in its flank. A coyote must have gotten to it after it escaped the pasture. It was sprawled on the side of the road, panting, and left to the elements. The poor thing was shaking.

Gene’s hand went to his hip holster instinctively, and he whipped out his revolver. He cocked it with a soft click before he stopped. Lowered it. Took a closer look.

Other than the wound in its side, the lamb seemed to be relatively okay. Gene was almost certain the animal would be fine if treated properly.

He pursed his lips into a straight line and replaced his gun in its holster.

He crouched and carefully, gently gathered the thing into his arms and held it close.

Calliope whinnied softly as Gene mounted her, still cradling the small bundle of white to his chest. It was soft, warm, and little. It bleated quietly.

He clicked his teeth and urged Calliope onwards, shrugging off his coat to wrap around the tiny thing.

He tilted his head down to whisper to it, the sound hardly audible. “It’s gonna be alright. I’ll take care of you.”

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

[catdia]

The Morales Twins and their hair!

Earth 1610! Is referred as Miles

Earth 42! Is referred as Milan

I’ve heard a lot of people, and even seen some fan art, saying that Rio is the one that does Milan’s hair?!

As a Puerto Rican, it’s very rare to see a mom that knows how to do curly hair. Especially such tight curls like the twins.

Rio has lose curls that are “easier” to maintain, but that woman doesn’t even know what to do with her hair! Always kept in a lose pony tail.

Sadly in PR, people always look down upon curly hair calling it “pelo malo” (bad hair). Many people just straighten it or get to adulthood without a clue what to do.

I don’t even want to talk about the trauma that Jeff and Aaron have from growing up in a black household with curls! I know they shaved it off when they were teens.

When the twins were little on wash day they were crying bloody murder in the bathtub as Rio harshly brushed their hair.

Rio also felt guilt as hell for not knowing what to do.

Jeff was just looking shocked at the scene as his babies were suffering. So he went to the hair shop down the street and asked all the curly heads at the shop what to use and do.

He came back with a bunch of products, from mouses to oils, shampoos to leave in conditioners. And a receipt with instructions on the back from a nice old lady.

Miles was less tender headed than Milan. They left little Miles on the sofa, the freshest curls on his head and a bag of chips in his hands.

While Milan on the other hand was still in the bathtub with tangled hair. Throwing the toys at Rio and Jeff trying to brush his hair.

“¡Este niño no quiere Jeff! Ya no puedo.”

(This kid doesn’t want to get his hair brushed! I can’t anymore.)

Rio exclaimed leaving flustered and tired. Taking a seat next to Miles. Jeff looked at Milan’s puffy face. His little boy making grabby hands at him. He had no other option than to call his brother.

“Hey Aaron, I need your help with Milan…”

Jeff said carrying Milan wrapped in a towel.

Uncle Aaron came a few minutes after. With a convenient store bag in hand. The twins were ecstatic as they saw their uncle.

Aaron chuckled as the twins waddled to him. He grabbed them both and gave them smooches. He looked at Milan’s face.

“What have you done to this poor kid, Jefferson! He looks like a tomato!”

The twins pulled on their uncle’s nose.

“They had us all afternoon in the tub. ¡Me tenían loca!”

(They were driving me crazy!)

Jeff looked at Rio.

“Yeah, Miles let us take care of the tangles but Milan won’t give. I called you to see what we can do. You where our last hope.”

Aaron chuckled, putting Miles down. Then checking Milan’s messy hair. The baby even smacked his hand away.

“I don’t know where this one got the balls from. Maybe this is Rio’s half of the genes kicking in.”

Aaron said making Rio look even more pissed. That woman needed a good drink. Jeff looked at Aaron with a “don’t” stare.

“Just get me a brush and the products you have. Oh, and some thin hair ties.”

Uncle Aaron pulled up one of the twins baby chairs and placed Milan on it. He sat down on the floor and took out a pack of tiny Oreos and handed it to the baby.

Miles stood next to Aaron with a bottle watching with curiosity. Rio and Jeff gave him everything. Looking in aw as their firecracker was finally sitting still. Eating the Oreos with no care in the world.

Uncle Aaron parted his hair. And started braiding and explaining the process to Rio and Jeff. In an hour the baby’s hair was done, no crying or fussing. Miles even touched his brother hair feeling the textures on his fingers.

Jeff was the one that took the job of doing Milan’s hair. Even learning new patterns and designs. Years passed and Milan still has the same hairstyle. His still makes his dad do his hair.

“Your a grown man now. Do it yourself.”

“I don’t want to!”

“Then tell your mom to do it.”

“¡Por favor no!”

Milan placed all the products on the dining table. Sitting down on a chair waiting for his dad to stop bitching and do it. And Jeff eventually did it. Before going to a cupboard and getting out a pack of Oreos. Placing them next to his son. Milan took one and ate the rest slowly.

Jeff was gentle and Milan would always fall asleep. Miles came into the kitchen seeing his dad and brother.

Miles stood next to his dad and taking the last Oreo.

“Can you do my hair next?”

Milan reached for another Oreo. Gone! Miles ate the last bite. Milan turned his head in anger. Jeff laughing at Miles scared face.

“No! This is my hairstyle! And Oreos! Get your own!”

Milan chased Miles away with a picking tool. They went out of view and a crash sounded through the apartment.

“Boys!”

#miles morales #earth!42miles #earth!1610miles #spiderverse #atsv #itsv #uncleaaron

[popculturebuffet]

X-Month: Mutancy on the Bouncy (darkwing Duck) (Comission for WeirdKev27)

Hello all you happy muties and welcome back to X-Month, last year known as mutant month!

A brief recap: Last year being an x-men fan with a rather.. chill attitude toward the strangest heroes of all

I did a theme month covering them: I covered their first animated apperance as the defenders of peace as hawkeye joind the x-men to fight namor and dr doom because the fantastic four's rights were busy that day, reviewed the all time franchise defining classic God Loves, Man Kills as the x-men fougth releigion and Xavier was crucified in a hallucination by demonic x-men on the top of the world trade center

I looked at Rogue's poorly drawn first apperance where Carol Danvers gave a hearty fuck you to her former friends for leaving her with a space rapist, and capped it all off iwth the first hellfire gala.

SO what do we have for round 2? Well how about mutant rubber chickens, the gloriously gay origin of Nightcrawler we at long last finally got, the debut of one of the greatest x-men spinoffs ever, one of the best x-men joining the x-men... and almost causing every last one of them to quit, one of the best x-men adaptations ever that debuted just this year and capping off with the comic that started the krakoan age with 6 words "While you slept, the world changed". The schedule's as follows.

9/8:

X-Men Origins Blue X-Men 97 Uncanny X-Men #171: Rogue

9/15: Transformers Cyberverse: Megatron IS MY hero Marvel Graphic Novel #4: The New Mutants

9/22: Transformers One Sam and Max: The Tomb of Sammun-Mak House of X/Powers of X

So to kick us off, and for what alll you duck fans have been waiting for, we're looking at an episode of Darkwing Duck, Mutancy on the Bouncy.

Mutancy on the Bouncy comes from the shows third and final season, called season 2 on Disney+ if your curious to check the episode out as Darkwing Duck's episode order is a nightmare I cannot escape. It came out one month after x-men the animated series, but is more a parody of the concept of mutants and how many there are than the actual x-men. It's only real satire is "There sure are a lot of mutants". And I love them all. except you Havok. You go sit in your corner.

So instead of a direct parody we get a bunch of mutants all themed after practical jokes (gluing someone to something, banana (For banana peel), a literal rubber chicken and a woman who can make you sneeze for sneezing powder), fighting a stone pig crime boss while Darkwing is a racist, narcist moron repeatedly assaulting an innocent person. Yes really.. see what I mean under the cut!

We open with a three way brawl between Darkwing Duck and two newcomers; Rubber Chicken , exactly what he sounds like and Cementhead... whose not a giant head made of cement but a pig made of cement. GOsalyn is on the scene reporting having become an ace reporter and narrates the episode> It's a fun device and gosalyn as an ace reporter fits; She's nozy, she's already butting into darkwings business and she's entertaning.

She dosen't have much integrity, traumtizing herb and binky muddlefoot, the next door neighbors to get sensatonalist photos but she wants a big story.. and to keep getting out of gym.

Around this time Darkwing is dealing with a new mutant criminal, Cementhead. And yup they use mutants. Granted the mutants here aren't due to an x gene but due to being downwind of some sort of plant having parents etc. Which itself.. is clever. Early X-men applied it was atomic radiation what caused it or caused the x-gene to devleop and it's still implied by some like charles xavier his parents working in radiation is why it manifested. So while i'm not sure it's intentional it fits. It also reminds me of a great joke Christopher Preist would do a few years after this episode during his black panther run, having Everett Ross, when encountering the heroes for higher lazily narrate they just fell into a radioactive vat of cream of wheat.

Darkwing finds clues that point to another mutant rubber chicken.. and I wasn't kidding: Darkwing takes 5 seconds to assume he's worknig for cementhead because "Those mutants always hang out together"

Yeah Darkwing is not likeable.. at all in this episode. He looks at the obvious frameup and despite Rubber Chicken (Who in a great gag is over at the snack bar) constantly TELLING him "I was framed", doing nothing ot harm him and generally trying to runa way at best.. Darkwing continues to persue him, tries to take him in despite you know, as a mutant probably not getting great treatment, and tries to beat him up. The last one highlights why, as frustrating as it is to see Darkwing be mildly racist and completely an ass this works: darkwing.. isn't remotely in the right. His shenanigans this episode have him at his most egotistical and judgemental and in the chunk of episodes i've seen the guy has a bad tendency to both be black and white in his morality and quick to judge. It's not really suprising Darkwing won't listen to obvious logic and maybe talk to the guy.. he can't even get over himself long enough to stop attacking and realize he's just hurting himself as Rubber Chicken's body means most of Darkwings tactics just get him hurt. I love RC' sline of "I' dbetter leave: If you keep giving me what' scoming ot me you'll end up in the hopstial"

Gos wants in but Darkwing, as usual, refuses which is hilaroiusly petty at this point as we're on episode 89, and for once somewhere firmly in the time stream instead of whatever got finished first. How many times does he need to learn this. It's a downside of being a status quo show: some conflicts get repeated, again. and again and agani. Like Homer and Marge' smarrige being in crisis you just get tired of it. I do love the gag of goslayn going "Launchpad beliveis me" before darkwing mentions something he belivies in, the easter bunny then the tooth fair an dhas to backpedal to not hurt the big guy.

So Gosalyn nintendoes what darkwing don't:.. actualyl asks questoins. While sh'es just as confrontational she.. actually listens to him and he gives his origin story: He was born from parents who lived downwind of a rubber plant, and thus grew up with fantastic elastic powers. Sadly as many a young mutant has experinced instead of his powers making him popular he was hated and.. well not feared luckily, more mocked so he hid his powers. Until he found out his boss swinheart was in cahoots with cementhead, and thus became Rubber Chicken to foil him. So Cementhead simply framed him. Gosalyn belivies him and supports him.

Darkwing.. is a dick about it

He refuses to belive her for.. no real reason. He assumes sh'es making it up and while Gosalyn isn't exactly TRUSTWORTHY this isn't the first time or even the 50th she's found out stuff.

Part of it is that Swineheart is actually trusted and loved by the city, a philanthropist. Which... fits a little and is part of what makes Cementhead such an intresting villian. Yes their one and the same, and that's the key: Cementhead is powerful on his own, a giant brick of cement that can bulldoze.. but as Swineheart he hides in plain sight. He's essentially Darkwing Duck's versoin of kingpin with a bit of tombstone mixed in, having the formers position as legit buisness man the public dosen't know is evil at first and the latter's stone skin.

He also easily dispatches darkwing by.. playing to his ego. He's not the first villian to do this, i'm sure, but most of darkwings foes go for the upfront approach: beat him up and hope it works this time. Part of what makes negaduck his arch enemy is attacking him at his vunerablities, trying to romance morgana in the show and tracking launchpad in the comics. Granted Negaduck shoudl've also been born as drake mallard but let's just say he had a diffrent name or thought Darkwing would use a fake name for civilian life and move on.

So rather than simply unmask and beat him senseless, he uses darkwing as a pawn offering him his own film, tv series, toyline and even a cartoon (Though the last one's going to be a lot).. if he catches Rubber Chicken. We also meet another mutant, a man who can turn into a banana. This non sequinter will be important later.

Goslalyn calls him out for being bribed so easily and transparently and goes to get proof. Because letting a little girl go into a dangerous situation isn't okay when she's trying to do a school project but it's totally fine when you don't give enough of a shit to go after her apparently.

So we get a great scene of darkwing going after poor rubber chicken who just.. stands still while Darkwing breaks things. Even for him this is a pretty sizeable new low. I love the shopekeep just.. adding up how much he owes. She's also a mutant and can stick things to people and when darkwing doubts, she literally sticks him with the bill. I did not realize the pun till now and applaud the show for doing it so subtly.

While this is going on gos goes for swineheart. She manages to get a photo

But gets caught immedietly

Cleverly she uses swineheart's own tactic against him.. asking him about himself an dfiguring she's about to die and not really getting to give his secret origin that often, he endulges.

It's also a fascinating origin espeically in an episode that's already dense with a guest character, a running gag about mutants setting stuff up for later, and gosalyn's whole reporter schtick. IT's remakeable HOW much this episdoe packs in without feeling overstuffed or too short to do it all.

So Cementhead was the sone of a famous crimelord, but his dad disowned hima nd threw him out for bein ga mutant. And honestly.. i'm shcoked HOW well this episdoe nails mutants: sure i'ts mostly an excuse to do some wacky gags and a fun running gag about there being some hiden mutant EVERYWHERE, but it stilll nails the core of x-men: That mutants are hated and feared just for existing. But where as Rubber Chicken at least had a family, Cementhead had nothing and gladly turned to crime. He became swineheart as he was tired of hiding, and this became a way to still do crime while also being a publci figure.

He plans to cement gosalyn's fate only for her to slip out and escape. Darkwing.. dosen't belivie her because.. she doctored photos earlier. This should work.. but said photos were.. herb muddlefoot with a plant on his head and binkie muddlefoot looking dazed and holding a knife. If this episode emphasiesed how much gosalyn lied, it would've worked better, making Darkwing's skepticism less douchey. But he never brings it up till now: It comes off like he dosen't trust gosalyn.. because he dosen't WANT TO and is using an easy excuse which still works in character but makes him a bigger dick than usual

So Gos goes with plan b: To me my x-men. And since they dont' have a psychic bald man with severe issues and manipulative tendencies they go to the media to call for all mutants.. after the reporter on deck reports darkwing is once again on the hook for property damage, a casual gag I just love. Naturally it dosen't go super great at first as Rubber Chicken is a nervous fellow. He's endeearing, simply wanting to do the right thing but utterly terrifeid of darkwing and of a small child, neither of which are a good look. But when pressed he does the right thing anyway. He coudl've given up hunting cementhead after the frame job and just.. disappeared.. but he dosen't. Because he wants to catch him because even if everyone fears him or wnats to lock him up.. it's the right thing. And that's what being an x-man is all about.. you may not be loved.. but you are needed to push for a better tommorow. And that's what matters

The Reporter sympathizes.. and reveals she's also a mutant and urges others to help.

So as Darkwing finds out Swinheart and Cementhead are the same person just in time to learn what the five fingers said to the face, a new team which i'm dubbing THE X-DUCKS. They are Rubber Chicken the fearful fowl with limbs of rubber! Banana BOy! Whose actually a grown ass man whose banana form has a cape for some reason! Glue Gal, the girl with the power to stick to you like glue and make it hard to find a catchphrase not lind with innuendo for her and Sneezemaster, who will give you the sniffles.

Together they.. easily get beaten. Yeah hilariously the lack of experince, team cordination or any time in the field apart from Rubber Chicken just.. causes them all to be irrelvant and crash into each other leaving only rubber chicken. It works way better than it has any right to: all this buildup.. and the payoff to all the mutants running around is them running into each other. IT's brilliant. And it's a hard joke to pull off: Deadpool 2 tried a similar thing with x-force but it didn't work as not only did they all die horribly.. but it felt so damn mean spirited. HEre nothings stopping these mutants from sticking around as a team or learning to be better, they simply weren't ready for this fight.

So it's up to darkwing who finally learns rubber chickens powers have a backlash.. and lures cementhead to attack so rubber chicken can slingshot him. With that Darkwing admits maybe mutants arne't so bad and Rubber Chicken.. hilariously lays into him, shouting about him being an egotist and a bully. He takes offence to the..f rist one.

It's a great ending to a great episode. Mutancy on the Bouncy is a lot of fun, taking the x-men concept and doing the goofies verison of it imaginable> THe team reminds me of the legion of substitue heroes from DC: heroes with pretty niche powers who fight anyway because it's the right thing. The episode nails being a mutant: the isolation, the hiding to avoid being hated and feared, how some revel in thier power and how grouping together can help you surivive. Rubber Chicken ends the episode with more confidence, friends and not hated and feared. I wish the series lived long enough to get a sequel and hope these guys pop up in the dynamite comics as it dosen't seem like they did in boom.. and if i'm wrong please tell me. This episode is stacked with great one offs and is one of my faviorites i've seen. I may be of coursed a little teeny bit biased towards something parodying x-men, but theyt ake the basic concept and make it their own wonderfully. Thanks for reading

[nikoisme]

Heyo!!! :D Some questions for you!

What are some of your fave parts of the Iliad and Odyssey? And then do you have a favorite by Euripides?

How long have you been drawing?

Since your "lovable little bastard" is a lil calico, does she have any neat patches/spots that are cute? Example, Teddy has a big stripe that curves across her neck, so I like imagining her having "necklace" haha. Does your lil lady have any spots that are cutely shaped? 🥺

(Good luck in school! :D Know I'm rooting for you!)

hello hello :DD this is a much needed break from studying oh god thank you.

For The Iliad,, BOOK 6, THE HECTOR, ANDROMACHE AND ASTYANAX SCENE. Book 10 also slaps obviously, night raid my beloved. The laments over Hector in book 24 too :')) It never fails to make me cry. But there's a tiny little specific part of The Iliad that is my absolute favorite - when Menelaus tells Antilochus that Patroclus was killed:

Idk man it feels so real and raw and hngngng. And Antilochus my man.

Now for The Odyssey i'm basic af but it's the reunion wih Telemachus, Penelope and Laertes :') hits right in the feels. The marriage bed story. The orchard. God fuck. Also the several little moments when Telemachus and Odysseus just,, exchange knowing smiles or glances with each other (when Odysseus is disguised as a beggar). It's just so neat i don't know why. Telemachus doesn't even know Odysseus and Odysseus doesn't know who his son is (yet!!), but they just kind of clicked together (when it came to scheming and plotting ofc. It's in their genes).

Tbh I haven't read too much of Euripides, I have quite a few plays sitting on my bookshelf waiting to be read. So i should probably, yknow, do that hahaa. But my favorite so far is Iphigenia at Aulis! It's just so heartbreaking and tragic and painful and ahdbagshjj. mannn.

I started drawing since I could hold a colored pencil lmaoo. i just did it sometimes as a kid, i liked it and was seen as the "art kid" in school (now that I think of it, I was actually more the "a pleasure to have in class" kid,, but hey i was the one people ran to during art projects lmaoo). It was 2020 when I really wanted to get into it - especially digital art, since I've been drawing on my phone and the family computer with a mouse in godforsaken Gimp up to that point - and I got my first drawing tablet the same year! Funnily enough I started drawing humans about... 1,5 years ago?? I was actually, lo and behold, a warrior cats artist for a few years :'DD

NOW. SHE HAS SO MANY SPOTS THAT I ABSOLUTELY ADORE. For example, all her paws are white - but only one is black with a single white toe:

And she has some incredible markings on her face if i can say so myself:

Especially since the orange marking goes in a straight line across her face, it's so neat. And her fluffy white neck/throat marking :D

And thank you for school AGJSJSDHHH. I have my last test on Monday so I should be finally free next week! The worst tests are over now, thankfully. This is hell :')

[apocalypse-shuffle]

LEE CHRISTMAS (the expendables 2010 series)

—

“A Different Direction” (Lee Christmas x Fem!Reader)

| It’s the bar scene from part two, but Lee doesn’t get back with Lacy in this version.

| Reader is always black unless I say differently

| SFW, some very tame pda, alcohol consumption

| this is a rewrite/reimagining of the bar scene

| 1k+ worlds

Sitting next to Ross feels good. Lee even finds himself smiling into his beer as he takes a swig. He’s feeling particularly thankful for having made it through another mission. For surviving another wild blood pumping trip and then being able to come home to you.

His eyes are automatically drawn to you in the packed bar. No amount of anyone else even pinging on his radar as you talked to the bartender, getting the two of you’s second round of drinks because he’d gotten the first.

He gets stuck staring at you. It’s like you’re out of a movie. How you’re moving around, laughing at whatever joke the bartender makes, looks borderline fucking ethereal in his mind. The song playing changes and Lee doesn’t even notice until you do. A smile splits across your face and you mouth about loving the song, and while putting in your order the lines of your body easily catch onto and sway to the beat.

Lee’s not a dancer but at that moment he wants to be moving with you. Hands on your hips behind you as you tease his obvious lack of skill, kissing the curve of your neck when you throw your head back in excitement. He notes some of the song lyrics in his head to look up later.

He must be damn near enthralled because Ross nudges him with a chuckle and he still doesn’t dare look away.

“I gotta say, my friend, I am glad you decided to heal from that other girl.”

Lee shrugs.

“She wasn’t bad, she just…wasn’t for me in the end.”

Ross’s brows go up in a way that says ‘you think’ but he ultimately agrees.

“Her cheating on you ain’t enough to make her a bad person?”

Lee shakes his head and spits out his usual reasoning. Sometimes people just made bad split second dicisions that end up fucking everything up. Shit happened. He would know.

“Nah, she’s just morally dubious.”

From the corner of his eye he can just see the bewildered look Ross throws his way.

“Which is?”

“The split side of being morally grey,” he purses his lips with a slight grimace. “The effects are murky.”

“Oh yeah,” Ross intones and Lee knows he’s making fun of him. “Real fancy way of confirming she just has a world class cheating gene ruling her decisions.”

“Someone clearly stabbed you in the heart, bud, people do make mistakes sometimes. I knew your heart was nonexistent but this is a new level, the absence of light isn’t even dark enough for what’s going on in you.” Lee takes a moment to let his shit eating smirk be noticed by the other. “You want me to kiss it better?”

His team lead lets out a gruff huff of laughter and shakes his head.

“I’ll pass.” He nods at you, “Just please tell me you’re actually going through with this one.”

Lee takes a swig of his beer and only takes his eyes off of you for a second to look at Ross like he’s crazy.

“Course I am,” he points at you with the tip of his bottle and you just so happen to look over at him and smile at the same time. It lights him up from the inside and he smiles back even as he talks. “I’d be crazy not to marry her.”

Ross grunts in acknowledgement and pats Lee’s knee as you start heading over.

“I’m just glad you’re not still entertaining being in a relationship with a woman whose first instinct was to cheat on you. Y/n is good people though, she makes you less unbearable.”

Lee rolls his eyes before he’s completely caught up in you again.

You smile at them as you get within spitting distance and Lee can’t help but track the way that unlike with Lacy, when he was stuck on desperately trying to make it work with her, the guys don’t either ignore you when you’re not directly engaging with them or give you stilted responses.

Barney doesn’t do any of those things with you. When you ask him things he answers about as happily as he ever does anything he doesn’t despise and when you greet him he responds while actually looking at you.

Lee had honestly never realized before how much the guys disliked Lacy until he finally gave up on them and found you almost a year later. In fact even though the three of you are a little separated from the other’s table the team still takes the time to greet you, even Gunner, as you walk past them.

He reaches for you, in the pretty dress he’d had the pleasure of watching you pick out for tonight, and when you readily grasp back at him he pulls you into his lap. You settle there like you were made for it and he can’t help the smile that splits across his face as he watches.

“Hey you,” you murmur. He brings your hands up where they’re still connected to kiss at your knuckles.

“Hey,” he murmurs back against the ample darkness of the skin there.

You smile and duck your head at the intensity he regards you with. Stunning. You squeeze his hand, shy smile still in place, and then turn to Ross.

“Hi to you too Barney.”

At your words Ross actually glances up and fully acknowledges that you’ve talked to him. He even gives you one of his rare angst riddled half smiles. It’s genuine, the man’s just allergic to anything the elicits too happy of a response Lee’s sure of it.

“Hey Y/n, how you been?”

“Fine,” you shrug, sparkling eyes briefly flitting to Lee’s. “Better now that Lee’s back though. You think next time you could fit me into the schedule? A month’s a long time to not have his little accent bouncing off my walls.”

And Ross chuckles in response. Wow, Lee really was a love sick fool with Lacy if he hadn’t realized just how much his closest friend couldn’t stand her.

“I’ll make sure to check my calendar for you next time,” he nods at him. “Though why anyone would rush to hear his badgering British shtick is lost on me.”

You pat at his hand as you lean into Ross’s space, “Maybe I’m a little crazy,” you mock confess.

“Hey!” Lee exclaims as Ross chuckles. The older man presses his hands to his knees as he throws him a teasing smirk before standing. Lee tamps down the urge to flip him off and pout at the way you’re laughing with him. Ross nods amiably at you both before lumbering off to join the group.

Once he’s gone, and all eyes from the table are not on y’all anymore, Lee turns to you and finally lets himself pout.

“What are you giggling at, eh? Just last night you were begging me to talk to you.”

You laugh some more, a snort sneaking in in the middle, and pivot towards him. A kiss is delicately placed at the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t sulk,” you say against his lips. “It’s unattractive.”

You pull away with a tiny smile pulling at plump glossy lips and Lee stares at you open mouthed before shaking his head. He pulls you to him more securely, letting go of your hand to wrap both his arms around your waist. You nuzzle your head onto his shoulder and kiss at the dip of his neck. He laughs down at you and then kisses those smiling lips. It’s brief but it makes his heart pound as you give him your full attention. The two of you were captured by the other.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” his eyes dance as he speaks to you. “I’d miss you calling me handsome.”

Your laughter fills his ears, and call him a romantic all you want he already knows, but that sound fills his lungs with fresh air and renews him with hope that not everything in the world’s utter shit.

NOTES: Was watching Expendables and I like Jason Statham, you know the drill.

[quietlyimplode]

I was going to save this for if you were going to to Black Widow Fest this year, but can you write a deleted scene from “Leave Everything…” based on this line?

“I think I’m okay, but then little things will happen and I won’t be. It was bad that first month. I can’t even tell you what happened, Clint probably can.” -Natasha

@adorationamy <3 thanks - we will see if Black Widow Fest will go ahead this year, given everything, but I hope so. Would be willing to do another deleted scene. :)

leave everything but your bones behind

Deleted Scenes from that first month.

“Clint?”

His phone can’t hear anything except what he thinks is the television.

“She’s not talking again,” his quiet voice says with a tint of an echo.

“Where are you?”

Silence.

“In the bathroom.”

“Where’s Natasha?”

“She’s... She’s okay, I think. The television is on and she’s staring at it.”

“Clint?”

Tony pauses.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know why.”

He hears the frustration and tries again.

“Okay, just tell me what’s happened.”

The reaction is immediate.

“I don’t know! Okay? I should know and I don’t. I don’t know why she was talking and seemed better two days ago and today, nothing! I should know, I should know what’s triggered her, but I don’t, okay? I just don’t.”

If Tony wasn’t awake before, he is now.

He glances at the clock in the kitchen, thankful he had enough forethought to move away from Pepper.

“Okay, okay, calm down.”

He cringes.

That’s not that right thing to say.

Clint doesn’t answer.

Tony thanks his friend’s patience, in not hanging up on him at all.

“Umm, can you go and have a look at her? What is she doing?”

He hears Clint move and then the TV grows louder.

“She’s just on the couch. She’ll follow instructions, she’ll do what I ask, and respond in some way. It’s not seizures, it’s like she’s disconnected from the world.”

Tony thinks. He has no experience with this.

He knows what he likes though.

“I like it when Dummy talks to me,” he says quietly.

“When I don’t feel… well.”

Clint is quiet on the phone.

“I like for him to tell me some good things about the world. To know that it’s not all the hopeless thoughts in my head.”

“Maybe it would work for her? If you haven’t already? Maybe some good things will help bring her out of Whatever sunk her in there in the first place?”

He’s not even sure if Clint is listening.

Until.

“Hey Nat, I’m gonna sit next to you okay? Tony’s on the phone over there. He told me that when he gets… lost, he likes to hear things that are good.”

There’s not response but the television turns down.

“There’s an animal called the Oryx, it’s an antelope found in the Middle East, and it became extinct in the wild. This sounds like a sad story but I swear it’s not, because you see,8 before hunters were able to kill the last oryx, five were captured, and they slowly built up, and the oryx was being moved from "endangered" to "vulnerable" and was the very first animal to go from extinct to vulnerable.”

Clint pauses, maybe checking on her.

He must be encouraged because he continues.

Tony has no idea where he gets the facts from.

“Did you know there’s a dachshund museum in Passau, Germany? Maybe we can go next time we are in Germany.”

Still nothing, Tony thinks; as there’s a period of silence.

But, he thinks he hears some movement as Clint continues again.

“There’s been advances in immunotherapy, thanks to you, the mRNA and gene editing that Tony tried with you, will likely help others. The cell therapies they’re looking into are to make generic immunotherapy rather than patient specific ones.”

He pauses.

“Jace found some other widows. Tony has housed them in safe houses and provided access to trauma informed therapists if they want it.”

Tony wants to hang up.

He isn’t someone’s something good.

He doesn’t though, intrigued to see what happens next.

“Yeah, Nat, really.”

Her voice was so quiet he didn’t even hear it.

There’s a shuffling and the phone is moved from what Tony can hear.

“Hey, thanks.”

He knows that Clint can’t see him, but he nods anyway.

“Yeah,” he responds, slightly choked up.

“Get her to call me sometime okay?”

Clint laughs.

“Yeah okay, when things are better. I’ll call you though.”

Tony nods again.

“You better.”

Hanging up the phone, Clint turns his attention back to Natasha, who is watching him intently.

It’s better than the dead eyes she’d been giving him all day.

“You hungry?” he asks hopefully.

She doesn’t reply but stands with him to get to the kitchen.

“Tell me some more good things?” she asks quietly.

He smiles.

“Of course, Nat.”