#betsy is always like women?women.

[dykespence]

Love how carla went from 'hmm idk idkk I like her but this is so new haha uncharted waters I mean like' to 'DONT. GET. DRESSED' in a matter of minutes

[gingerteafairy]

dedicated to my pookie @blueikky

𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑺𝑨𝑷𝑷𝑯𝑰𝑹𝑬𝑺, 𝑵𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻 𝑩𝑳𝑼𝑬 𝑫𝑰𝑨𝑴𝑶𝑵𝑫𝑺 (𝑽𝑹𝑶𝑵𝑺𝑲𝒀 𝑿 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹)

Your first and last ruin, Alexei Vronsky.

tags n warnings: issues, drama, alcohol, smoke, prejudice, blowjob, virginity, praise and (slightly) degradation kink. word count: 4.6k. masterlist

Gossip. That’s what filled the air at balls like this one in the cold beauty of Saint Petersburg. Outside, winter’s chill wrapped the city, but inside, the warmth of cynical laughter and whispered conversations carried through the grand hall. Tonight, the focus was on the newly arrived wealthy family. New money was always a spectacle in high society, and noblewomen wasted no time trying to marry off their daughters to the richest man in sight.

This was your situation. Your mother clung to your arm, dragging you from one introduction to the next. Most of the men were old, balding, or unappealing. The few who seemed tolerable lost all their charm the moment they spoke, their words dripping with arrogance or lewdness.

“How dreadful,” Betsy muttered, waving an ornate fan as she watched your mother’s relentless efforts to match you with men far too old for you. “It’s embarrassing to witness.”

“New money,” said Countess Vronskaya with a sip of her champagne. “Like dogs trampling our lovely ball. She claims herself a baroness. Such a shame.”

“Rather harsh words for someone so refined, Mother,” Alexei Vronsky interjected smoothly, taking a slow drag from his cigarette. The smoke curled lazily from his lips as his striking blue eyes followed the scene, faintly amused yet undeniably intrigued.

“The girl is a victim of a desperate mother with no sense of propriety and lack of decorum,” the Countess replied, her lips thinning in disdain. She exchanged a knowing glance with Betsy. “Come, dear. This place is becoming intolerable.”

The two women swept away, leaving Vronsky behind. His posture was relaxed, yet there was something commanding about the way he carried himself. His friend Golenichev approached, grinning as he held a drink, his gaze settling on you as you waved off another suitor.

“She’s had some decent offers tonight, don’t you think?” Golenichev said, standing straighter as he joined his friend.

Vronsky’s eyes found yours again, his expression unreadable. He tilted his head slightly, taking another drag of his cigarette before letting the smoke escape in a soft exhale. “She’s beautiful,” he said quietly, his voice thoughtful. “It’s tragic, really. She can’t be more than twenty, and yet she’s being offered to these… decrepit creatures. It’s a crime.”

Golenichev chuckled, raising his glass in agreement. “A crime indeed. But what’s to be done? It 's her ruin.”

“Perhaps there is.” Vronsky tapped the cigarette against an ashtray and straightened. “I’ll see to it that she’s spared such a fate and make sure to be her first ruin.” His tone was firm, and without another word, he began walking toward you.

You were staring at the floor, trying to hide your frustration as your mother pulled you toward yet another man. Then she stopped abruptly. You looked up, and your breath caught.

The man standing before you was unlike any you’d seen tonight. His presence was magnetic, and his piercing blue eyes seemed to lock on yours with intent. For once, your mother seemed unsure of herself, nudging you for bow reverence.

“What a small, demure little thing you are.”He chuckles at your small bow, roaming his eyes over your body, taking every inch of you, especially in your breath plumped by the exaggerated neckline your mother made you use. “Adorable, if it's safe to say, baroness.”

“Oh…” Your mother opened her mouth but fumbled for words. “To… to what do we owe this honor, sir…?” she finally managed.

“Vronsky. Count Vronsky. Colonel,” he said smoothly, bowing slightly before taking your hand. He lifted it to his lips, pressing a light, deliberate kiss to your skin.

“Oh… it's… such a pleasure to meet such a high hierarchy… I mean, important man.” She giggled, covering his mouth, nudging you, having you gasping slightly before fixing your posture.

“The pleasure is mine.” he beamed as his eyes burned with a desire and passion you’ve only heard in fantasies. No, it was darker. Hyptozing.

You flushed, your heart racing under his gaze. His voice, deep and confident, seemed to linger in the air. Your mother quickly recovered, rushing to introduce you. “This is my dau—”

“No need,” Vronsky said with a small, knowing smile. “I already know her name.” His attention returned to you. “May I have this dance?”

Your mother answered before you could, her voice eager. “Of course! She would be delighted!” She nudged you forward, leaving you no choice but to step into his waiting arms.

His touch was steady and assured as he led you to the center of the ballroom. The music swelled as the two of you bowed, and then his hand found your waist—not politely at your upper back, but daringly low, just above your hip. The closeness was startling, almost improper, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to step away.

“You’re very quiet, darling,” he said as the two of you began to move, his steps smooth and confident. “You’re naturally reserved, I presume.”

“My mother believes it’s unseemly for a lady to speak unless spoken to,” you replied, your voice clipped as you tried to mask your nerves.

He chuckled softly. “Nonsense,” he said, his blue eyes glittering with amusement. “Tell me—what are you thinking right now?”

You hesitated but decided to answer honestly. “That, of course, you would know my name. My mother has spoken to every man in this room. The pretty, reckless, stupid Baroness.”

He laughed, the sound low and pleasant, loving your adorable annoyance. “I tend to keep my distance. Crowds don’t interest me.” He guided you into a turn, his hand steady on your waist. “Did any of them catch your interest?”

“None who would ask me to dance and dismiss my mother’s rules as nonsense,” you said, the hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

“Fascinating,” he murmured, his tone warm as he pulled you closer. “You’ve caught my attention, if I may be so bold. You’re enchanting.”

Your breath hitched at his words. He was impossibly close now, his hand firm yet gentle on your waist. “That’s very kind of you, Count Vronsky.”

“Alexei,” he corrected. The intimacy of his first name felt daring, and it made your cheeks flush again. His gaze lingered on your lips for a moment before he spoke. “Would you do me the honor of a walk? Somewhere quieter for a pleasant talk?"

You hesitated, glancing toward your mother, who was engrossed in conversation across the room. Before you could second-guess yourself, you answered.

“Yes.”

He smiled, offering his arm, and you took it. Together, you stepped away from the crowded ballroom and into the stillness of the castle’s quieter halls, your heart pounding with every step.

Alexei led you through the castle halls, his steps unhurried, his presence calm yet undeniably magnetic. He spoke occasionally, sharing brief comments about the guests or recounting fragments of the castle's history. His voice carried a quiet intensity, much like the moonlight filtering through the windows, veiled by luxurious, heavy curtains. There was an air of mystery about him—dark yet alluring, cold yet captivating.

He stopped in front of a wide wooden door, resting his hand on the ornate brass handle. With deliberate slowness, he turned the knob and pushed it open, the creak of the hinges echoing softly in the stillness. The pause in his movements, the weight of the moment—it set your nerves alight.

“Ladies first,” he said, his tone smooth and polite as he stepped aside.

You hesitated before walking in, taking in the room’s grandeur. It was no ordinary chamber. It was vast, large enough to house an entire family of peasants. A velvet sofa rested against one wall, paired with matching chairs and a table scattered with loose sheets of paper. Heavy drapes framed tall windows, and the air carried a faint yet pleasant scent of cedar and something floral. But the centerpiece of the room was the bed—a massive structure with carved posts and linens finer than anything you had ever touched.

“Why did you bring me here?” you asked at last, your voice breaking the silence. You didn’t turn to face him, but the soft click of the door closing behind you was enough to remind you of his presence.

“I wanted a quiet place where we could talk,” Alexei said, his footsteps drawing closer before he seated himself on the velvet sofa. He moved with such ease, yet his every action seemed deliberate. He lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply before letting the smoke curl lazily into the air. “To get to know you.”

You swallowed hard, the intimacy of the setting and his relaxed demeanor setting your nerves on edge. You lowered yourself onto the far end of the sofa, maintaining a respectable distance, though your heartbeat betrayed you.

“Tell me,” he began, his voice soft yet probing, “have you ever been in love?”

The question startled you. You frowned, letting out a nervous laugh. “I suppose so. A few times. Silly crushes, nothing serious.”

“Was that what your mother told you?” he asked, leaning just slightly in your direction.

“Probably,” you admitted, shifting in your seat. Despite yourself, you found your body inching closer to his, as though pulled by an invisible force. “In her words, romance is useless unless it serves a purpose. Marriage is a transaction, and a lady should save herself for that.”

“And do you believe that?” he asked, taking another drag from his cigarette. His knee brushed against yours, the contact subtle but charged.

“No.” Your voice was firm, though your gaze drifted to his hand, the urge to reach out and touch it growing stronger with each passing second. “But I’ve never had the courage to try anything different.”

“What is it you’ve never tried?” He leaned closer, his profile sharp as he turned his head to exhale the smoke away from you.

“Romance.”

His lips curved into a faint smile, his eyes searching yours. “And… would you like to try?”

The question lingered in the air, wrapping around you like a silk ribbon, tightening with every heartbeat. It was dangerous, the sort of question that invited you to tread on forbidden ground. Yet there was something intoxicating in the way he spoke, the way he watched you as though he already knew your answer, showing you what you’ve been caging. Desire. Fire, lust, pure sensual desire.

“I believe I would,” you murmured, the words barely audible but enough to draw a soft smile from him.

Alexei shifted closer, closing the gap between you. His breath mingled with yours, carrying the scent of tobacco and something distinctly him—something refined, intoxicating, irresistible. He brought the cigarette to his lips once more, inhaling deeply before leaning forward.

But instead of his lips meeting yours, he exhaled, the smoke brushing against your lips and filling your senses. You inhaled instinctively, closing your eyes, tasting the ghost of him in that moment.

It wasn’t a kiss, not exactly—too timid, too indirect. But it was intimate, electric, and left your heart racing as though it had been. You opened, meeting his gaze.

The faint crackle of the fire in the distant hearth was the only sound, its soft glow casting flickering shadows on the walls. Alexei had moved closer now, his presence overwhelming but not suffocating, his gaze unwavering on yours. There was a storm in his eyes—a mix of restrained desire and something deeper, something dangerous.

When his lips finally met yours, it was gentle at first—tentative, as if asking a question he wasn’t sure you’d answer. But then you responded, your hand instinctively finding its way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his coat as if to anchor yourself.

That was all it took for the restraint to break.

The kiss deepened, his other hand sliding to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, the cigarette being forgotten on the floor. The warmth of him, the way his lips moved against yours, was unlike anything you’d ever known. He kissed you like he was claiming something, yet still giving—giving you something you hadn’t realized you were starving for.

When you finally parted, both of you were breathless. This is dangerous," you whispered, standing and placing your hands on your hips. Your voice shaky but tinged with a nervous laugh, “We can't be doing this, Alexei. This is wrong.”

He raised, hands reaching for your arms, travelling to your waist. “Does it feel wrong? Or does it feel like something you’ve been told is wrong?” His forehead rested lightly against yours, his hand still cradling your face as if he were afraid to let go.

Your lips met Alexei's in a deeper kiss, where he took your face in his hands, turning his head to devour you and feel your taste completely, savoring the sweetness on your lips of your previous treats, mixed with the striking nicotine of Alexei with a touch of champagne, as if it mixed with his earthy perfume.

The kiss became more desperate with hands roaming all over your bodies. You shoved him again, turning your back with your hands on your head, noticing once again the dangerous terrain with the wetness between your legs, like rain on a warm day.

"Tell me you don't want me." He hoarses breathy in your ear, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. "Tell me and I'll go away."

“Alexei…” You sighed, your voice sounding like an eager moan as your hands searched for Alexei's curls between your fingers, hanging your head on his shoulder with your eyes closed.

His lips brushed your shoulders softer this time, almost reverent. “Say what you need and i'm pleased to give, sweetheart.”

Your breath hitched, his talk striking deeper than you wanted to admit. “Alexei. If anyone knew—”

“Let them know,” he interrupted, kissing your shoulder open-mouthed, his lips taking an old age pace where your neck meets your shoulder. His voice had taken on a quiet intensity, the kind that made your chest tighten as his tongue licked the side of your neck.

“Let them whisper and sneer.” He whispered, his teeth meeting your soft flesh, ghosting till your neck where he inhaled your scent “Leave them wondering how i adore you, every inch of your skin. How I map out your body, the firmness of your flesh, how I'm the cause of your gasps and moans. Leave them realizing you’re living his wildest dreams, melting in my hands.”

His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you flush against him. He poured every ounce of his love, his hand sliding once again to your stomach, snaking to the small of your back.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the fire in his eyes as you felt the lace on your dress loosening softly, the firmness of the unbreathable tie replaced by softness. "Tell me to stop, and I will.”

Once again. You didn’t. You couldn't.

Not when he licked your neck with a gracious soft tongue felt so right, molding your barely exposed curves to the hard planes of his body. His hands release you from the outrageously heavy dress.

“I want to sink myself into your untouched depths, stretching you wide, claiming you utterly…” He muttered, biting your earlobe, delighted at you melting with each word, his desire, touching every piece of skin as he murmured sweet nothings at your ear.

He gently touched your hair, careful not to make a mess with your luxurious hairstyle. His hands slid down to your hips, gripping them as he turned you to face him. “I want to make you feel everything, know all the pleasures. Whispering my name in a hoarse voice as you please me with cream.”

His voice was a low, wicked purr, each word dripping with sinful promise and unchecked hunger. He took your hand, licking between your index and middle finger, imitating your folds as he saw you heat at him playing with your imagination. You knew what it was. He loved it. He wanted it.

Alexei’s hand slid lower, palming the rounded globe of your ass, squeezing the firm flesh and pulling you even harder against him.

“Every filthy, depraved, utterly obscene thought that's ever crossed your mind... It's all something I desperately want to make happen.”

Tenderly, he took off the corset watching it slowly rest on the floor. His hands slid to cup the soft weight of your breasts as he guided you to his bed, sitting you with surprising care, holding you for getting comfortable.

He pushed back for a moment, his eyes burning into yours as he quickly shed his own clothes, revealing the hard, toned body beneath.

He stood on the side of the bed and you followed him, sitting on your knees. “You’re mine,” He smiled, holding your chin between his fingers, placing a small kiss on your lips. “Mine to ruin.”

His whisper sends you a shiver down your spine. He pulled away again, putting his hands on the hem of his pants, pulling down his underwear as well, revealing to you the sight of the stranger, who somehow seemed familiar to you.

As if following his desire, your hands went up to your length, exhaling Alexei, not restricting your tongue, insisting on tasting his juice, planting a mouth-opened kiss. He groaned, maintained control with his fingers on your chin, your sweet innocence burning inside him, burning with the clear desire to ruin any trace of it in you. Present you to any pleasure the world denies you.

“Open your mouth, love.” He demanded and you slowly opened, sticking your tongue, obeying your instincts. He cupped your face, pressuring your jaw, seeing you opening even more. “Yeah… that's it. Keep it wide open for me.”

Alexei groaned, his cock at your wet, warm tongue dragged along his aching length, accommodating his veins. The sensation of your soft lips parting, your mouth stretching to engulf his thick, pulsing cock... It was almost enough to make him lose control, to spill himself down your throat, how you submissively struggled on making your moves deeper, comforting him on your walls.

“Keep going, you're doing so well…” his sweet praises echoed with the sound of your cheeks sucking in and the little ‘pops’ when you popped his cock out to lick him, savoring the saltiness just to warm him up again.

He pushed you, making eye contact as he patted his head on your flushed cheeks. A dark chuckle echoed from his lungs as he saw you opening your mouth eager to taste him again.

“You're so adorable… Did you want a cock this much? No wonder your mother hides such a slut. Would be a shame if anyone knows how good this pretty mouth is.” He cooed, pressing your chin down. “Stick your tongue, my cunt.” he ordered, pressing your chin down, patting his tip again when you showed your tongue on your reddened lips. “Yeah… that's it… good girl. Here, take what you want.”

He couldn't help but surrender to your swirling tongue, entertaining his frenulum. He popped out again, smirking just to dig inside again, chuckling with your gasp and hollowing cheeks.

He rocked his hips, grinding his cock against your tongue as he fucked your throat deep, “I'll ruin your mouth so any man could use it again. Just me. Your mouth made for my cock.”

The sight of you, tears streaking down your cheeks, mouth red and swollen from his rough treatment.

“Enough, darling.” He brushed his thumb across your bottom lip, wiping away the stray drop of drool that clung there, before pressing the digit past your lips, letting you suck it clean. His other hand slid into your hair, his fingers threading through the silky strands as he tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his intense, unwavering gaze.

“Did I do a good job?” You beamed, wiping off the remanescente drool off your face with the back of your hand.

“You were perfect, took me very well. Now… Lay down. On your back.” He asked and you obeyed, lying down as he ordered. He crawled on the bed, getting on top.

Alexei’s mouth travelled to your neck, nipping and deposing open-mouthed kisses, tasting you, claiming you, marking you. His own territory. He pushed back slightly, fingers gently wrapped around your throat as he licked the column, lifting to look at your eyes, leaving them as he arrived at your sternum, inhaling you.

“Such a magnificent smell.” He exhaled, inhaling sonorous, his fingers digged on your waist possessively. 

His head drove to the side, catching your nipples with his teeth gently, while his thumb teased the other one, turning, pinching, palming your breast and filling your hardened skin sticking on his hand, breathy purrs of yours could be heard on his timpani. 

He slid down in brief kisses to your undergarments. You plopped on your shoulders, watching him catch the hem of your underwear, tugging down with his teeth in one swift erogenous motion, letting them fall to the floor. 

“Alexei…” you mumbled dizzy, tortured by his tortuous rhythm. 

“Yes, my lady?” He teased, as he didn't know how you were on the edge of madness. He wanted you begging, but he was patient enough to wait for it, even if his cock ached for relief. “Tell me what you want.” 

“I want you.” You finally admitted, gazing into his lustful eyes that looked through his delicate lashes. “I want you, Alexei. I can't take it anymore."

“As you wish, my love.” He whispered before his lips searched yours in a bruising kiss, massaging your tongues together simultaneously to his teeth pushing your bottom lip, nipping and coming back for loving tongue. 

Alexei's hands drove down to your hips, gripping them tightly as he pushed your legs up and out, forcing your knees upon your chest, leaving you exposed and vulnerable, your dripping sex begging for his cock to explore your walls. 

He pulled his hip down, your hole hugging his tip, getting used quickly to the new addicting sensation. He could smell the sweet scent of your desire, your flushed thighs shivering with anticipation mixed with the cold air of the night. Your cunt trying to suck him hungry. He heard it's calling, burying him completely with the symphony of your moan and his grunt. 

“God, you feel amazing.” he rasped light headed, sensing your channel tightening his length. 

His fingers drove out to your swollen clit. He rubbed the sensitive nub in tender circles, the calloused pad of his finger teasing until your hips bucked beneath him.

“Alexei…” you moan, digging your nails on his flushed shoulders, drawing a red path to his back where you scratch to his swaying moving. 

“Fuck, you take me so well, my darling.” He groaned, setting a pace as he kept eye contact with your foreheads together, shutting his eyes when he pursued your lips to a taunt kiss, hooking one of your legs around his waist. 

“Alexei… Alexei… fuck.” You mewl his name like a song, humming on each time his tip rocked on your sweet spot back and forth. 

“Is it good when I touch you here?” He left your lips, biting your jaw as he pulled your hair, swaying his hips harder and deeper. 

Suddenly, he pulled back, your blissed cunt feeling the void as you watched him sit on the bed and light a cigarette found on his trousers. He looked down at you, raising an eyebrow as he dragged in. “What are you waiting for? Sit.” 

"What?" you gasped, heavy from the pleasure you had gotten while sitting next to him.

“I think i was clear, but i’ll open an exception for your pretty pout.” Vronsky chuckled, leaning closer to your ear, cupping your face, thumb pressing your jaw as he ghosted his lips on your cheek. "I said sit. Sit so i can drink you with my eyes while your tits jump and you cream me like a good girl.”

You gasped, your face being released with soft brutality as you stared at him, your gaze going to his cock soaked in your lube "i don't know how to do this... i barely know how..."

"Shhh..." he shushed, taking your face into his calloused hand again, pulling your bottom lip with his index finger. "Obey. Sit.”

You swallow hard, obeying the order without blinking. Your legs work to spread out on Alexei's lap as he takes a deep drag on his cigarette, exhaling onto your face, your tears mixed with smoke.

"God, you're perfect.” he breathes, inhaling with his head on the wall as you sink down on him awkwardly, finally taking his full length in a sloppy unadjusted thrust of you. “Yeah… good girl. Fuck yourself on my cock to get what you want. Don't make me ask twice.”

You moaned at his dirty talk, starting a slow and uncoordinated movement that made your legs ache, but that felt incredibly delicious on your core. Up and down, back and forth, exploring the new nature. 

“Good…” he whispered, panting, his gaze at your cunt sucking him well. “You’re a natural. Faster."

Your eyes caught Alexei's furrowed brows as he took another drag, each time more awkwardly as the pleasure grew in his spine. 

He moved closer to you, exhaling smoke near your mouth as you inhaled again, but it wasn't the nicotine that was addicting you. It was how Alexei commanded without needing to touch, it was like your body knew exactly what he wanted.

You felt your heart race, the oxygen seeming to dissipate in the air suddenly as your sex demanded more. Vronsky noticed. His skilled fingers rubbing your clit. "That 's it. Cum on my cock. Cream it. Use me for your pleasure, love.”

“Alexei… fuck… I'm” You couldn't even speak, your body automatically throwing itself at Alexei who held you, dropping the cigarette in the ashtray next to the bed to hold you while you sought your own orgasm in him, his warm lips on yours again.

"You are the embodiment of sex, darling. My nymph. My muse. Fuck, you are delicious, melt into me." He stimulated you, encouraging your ecstasy, your eyes pressed shut as your mouth opened in a final sigh, your pleasure being released into Alexei. 

He took in your scent, your taste, your juice, wanting his pores to absorb every cell of yours released by your peak. The world seemed to dissolve, your mind blank as Alexei fucked himself into you, his ankles on the mattress to help with the thrusts as he digged inside, yours tits bouncing as you purred and whimpered. With a last harsh sway, his cock spurted his seed on your womb, rocking his hips til the last drop. 

Breathing heavily, you pulled away briefly to look into Alexei's delighted eyes, his blonde locks plastered to his forehead, his hands coming to your face in a generous caress, gently kissing your lips.

"Ravishing..." he whispered, taking in every detail of your sweaty face. "I wish to present myself to your mother as a suitor. I do not intend to let any other man touch my sweet little thing.”

Your eyes watered at the talking, your hands placed on your mouth to hide your surprise. “Alexei… Alexei, is it real? What made you change your mind?’

“Nothing.” He simply replied, smiling at your emotionally amused reaction, his own heart giggling at the moment. “You’re mine now, you’ll wear sapphires in the morning and blue diamonds at night, so everyone knows you’re my woman. you will be elevated to the position you deserve. High. Adored. A muse. Come on, get ready. We have an announcement to make.”

[amageish]

Boom Boom + Cipher

From X-Men '97: Remember It.

My over-analysis of this 1.8 seconds of implied Sapphic content under the cut.

So... Let's dig in!

In Episode 5 of X-Men '97, we get a scene in a Genoshan Gala that intentionally feels like a gay club, despite it largely centering characters who, nominally at least, are straight. There is one moment of queerness in it, a scene of two women dancing together - who comic fans may recognize as Tabitha Smith AKA Boom Boom and Alisa Tager AKA Cipher.

My first reaction to this was to be confused? Like. The X-Men is a very queer brand. There are a LOT of textually queer characters who they could have used for their one moment of Sapphic desire. Hell, Karma and Galura got together while dancing at the Hellfire Gala - and Betsy and Rachel's romance began its road from subtext to text there as well. Cipher and Boom Boom feel so... random to me?

But then I began thinking about it more and talking about it with people... and I kind of really like it?

Cipher's entire thing is that she exists invisibly and intangibly. She debuts in Young X-Men, but it is revealed she has been around for years of comic history before then. She has been there the whole time, impacting the narrative from the sidelines, helping her classmates through their troubles despite being a secret to nearly everyone.

That experience can be mapped onto a lot of minority experiences, but it certainly works well for queer experiences. Queer people are historically ignored and have their stories sidelined, but they have always been around - acting in the shadows, waiting for the safety to come out and be themselves in public.

I think there's something interesting about the queer rep in this show set in the 90s being someone who has this sort of story. She may not be a protagonist, but she's the hero of her own story and is metatextually waiting for the chance to come out and show herself fully... It's neat!

On the other hand, I think this character choice could also be read as a sort of dig at Disney S&P by the animators?

Disney is often (rightfully) critiqued for having these blink-or-you'll-miss-it moments of queerness - and, when they do them, they often censor them out when releasing the films in more queerphobic markets... and so having the queer character be someone who can TURN HERSELF INVISIBLE is kind of funny in that way too? Her powers fit her role as a background Disney gay - she can make herself go unnoticed. Literally. So unnoticed that even TELEPATHS cannot read her mind.

Boom Boom, meanwhile, also makes sense as a sort of allegorical queer character, but in a less fun and interesting way... In the comics, she has a story about her father not accepting her mutanthood in a way that mirrors certain real-life queer experiences.

ANYWAY. That is probably too much opining on what is under two seconds of gay content... I do hope we see some comic book canon queers in more roles going forward - all we've gotten thus far is Northstar in a Mojoverse vision - but this gif-length of time was neat to me and got me thinking if nothing else!

[darkworkcourier]

Hi, hello, I decided to be stupidly self-indulgent and write my Courier/Cooper Howard. I guess it's an AU in the sense that I'm writing this under the No Gods, No Masters ending of FNV? Mr. House whomst.

---

All these years on, Cooper still hates Vegas.

He did some work in there—movie scenes, photo ops, theater releases. Casinos used to pay people like him just to show up, to draw in big crowds eager to gamble alongside the stars. He'd throw down a couple dollars on a blackjack table or at the roulette wheel, then make a beeline for the buffet when his time was up. He never had time to go sightseeing in the Mojave, to gaze down the long concrete throat of Hoover Dam, to catch all the sunset colors at Red Rock Canyon.

He flew in and out, and felt dirty all the while.

Knowing what he does about fellas like Robert House, he feels a particular kind of dirty again as New Vegas wavers like a mirage on the horizon. He's passed through before, following bounties through NCR checkpoints and around Legion patrols back when those bastards still crawled like red mites through the canyons and gullies.

This time is no different. A bounty on a would-be gunslinger who put a bullet into a brahmin baron's son during a bar fight. His trail's easy to follow, as all Cooper has to do is the world's longest bar crawl and ask after a shaken-up little shit in a mouse-colored duster. Same color as his coward hide, Cooper says.

His route takes him to a little outpost called Goodsprings. It's quaint in the way that Wasteland towns usually are—just people trying to keep their heads down and still attached to their necks. They must see ghouls aplenty, as everyone from the bighorner rancher to the bartender doesn't so much as bat an eye at the sight of him.

The bartender in particular is his favorite kind of person. The only question she asks is what he'll be drinking, and then she slides him a shot of whiskey and the rest of the bottle.

"Good for the caps?" she asks.

He nods, knuckles the brim of his hat as extra confirmation. "Much obliged, ma'am."

She scoffs with a smile. "Heavens to betsy, but you're polite. Oughta teach some of our other menfolk 'round here to mind their manners."

"It's a dyin' art," he agrees.

She goes back to wiping out chipped glasses with a rag that probably gets them dirtier than not. As she does, the saloon door opens with a low, throaty creak, getting both of their attentions.

The bartender coughs out a laugh. "Been a minute since you darkened our doorway, honey," she says.

Cooper glances over his shoulder to the visitor, burned-up brows rising in surprise. On one hand, she's a Wasteland special—.308 rifle slung over her shoulder, tan face windburnt on the cheeks, aged brahmin leather rucksack over her shoulder practically busting at the seams with supplies. At a glance, he can't tell if she's a scavver, caravaneer, or mercenary—maybe all three.

But on the other hand, he doesn't see women like her all that often. She's probably in her late 30s or so, although he's absolutely shit at guessing ages these days. A pair of aviator sunglasses rest on top of her head—hair blue-black and tied back—like she's a movie star at poolside. And, hell, the rest of her looks that way, too. If it weren't for all the hallmarks of a life lived out in the wastes, she'd fit right in to his best Hollywood memories. Boxed at the edges, sure, but pretty as all get out.

He doesn't often bitch about being a ghoul, but seeing girls like her out in the wastes really makes him kick himself over getting irradiated.

"Trudy," she greets, sliding onto the stool beside him easy as pie. Like the rest of the town, she doesn't so much as blink at him. "How're things?"

"Just dandy," the bartender replies, sliding a bottle of Sunset Sarsaparilla, of all things, across the bar top. "How's Vegas?"

The woman snorts as she opens the bottle, sliding the cap into one of her many pockets. "Same as always. Loud. Full of people with more money than brains. I needed a vacation."

"Well, you know you're always welcome," Trudy says, reaching across the bar to pat the woman on the arm. "Now, Sunny'd kill me right dead if I didn't tell her you were in town. I'm gonna hop out back an' let her know, if that's alright."

"Sure," the woman replies. She grins, a little pinch appearing at the bridge of her nose. "Me an' tall, dark, and ghoulish'll keep an eye out for any ruffians."

And just like they've been friends for decades, the woman gently elbows him in the bicep. If it were anyone else, or anywhere else, he might take a little offense. But it's not often that any gal quite like her even touches him, and this town is nice. So he just smiles and nods, good as anything.

"Of course, ma'am," he says, touching the brim of his hat again. "Do what you gotta do."

"Much obliged," she says, echoing him. She looks back to the woman. "Lizzie, you be nice to this fella."

"Always!"

Trudy heads out from behind the bar, leaving Cooper with her—Lizzie. He watches her take a long drink of her sarsaparilla, following the line of her throat, the faint bob as she swallows. She's still got sweat clinging to her skin from the desert heat, but he can also see freckles on her bare shoulders and her cheeks. If he still had the network of blood vessels to get warm in the face, he thinks he might just.

Lizzie sets her drink down and turns to look right back at him. Not at all put off by his stares. She's all smiles, eyes crinkling with crow's feet at the corners. "See somethin' you like, cowboy?" she asks.

Flirting right out the goddamn gate. It doesn't sound like a joke coming from her, which takes him by surprise.

But it's just as easy to fall into a role.

"Suppose'n I do," he replies. "If you're into irradiated fellas, that is."

She breaks into a laugh, which he almost thinks is at his expense until she follows it up. "Cariño, I'm mostly into people who click the Geiger counter," she says, all matter of fact.

Color him surprised again. "S' that so?"

Lizzie leans over the top of the bar, elbow on the top, chin resting in her palm. Her grin's as wide and content as a cat. "I got a track record, won't lie," she says. "Y'know there's a dominatrix ghoul in Freeside?"

He didn't, but that's a fact he's going to be rolling around in the ol' decrepit gray matter for a while. "Huh," is all he says before taking a shot.

"If you tell her Lizzie Holliday sent you, she might give you a discount."

"I'll keep that in mind, sweetheart."

The nickname seems to make her preen, and she takes another drink like she's fortifying herself. She sets it back down, then gives him a long once-over that almost makes him self-conscious.

Almost.

"Wanna get out of here?" she asks.

"Ain't you got a friend wantin' to visit?"

This time, her smile shows some teeth. One of her top incisors is chipped, and some deep-set part of Cooper that still wants supplies the thought that he ought to test how that tooth feels on his own tongue.

"She knows my priorities," Lizzie says.

And that's all the invitation Cooper needs.

---

Holy-good-goddamn, but he missed this.

Lizzie's riding him like he's the last train out of Yuma, rolling her hips over his, hands braced on his shoulders with a grip that would hurt someone with more nerve endings. Her hair's out of its ponytail, messed up one one side where he raked his hand through it while she was sucking his cock earlier.

And holy shit did she have some technique. He doesn't have a reason to doubt that she's fucked ghouls before, since she put just enough pressure on all the right parts so that he could feel it. And not once did she shy away from him once his clothes were on the floor and he was sprawled out on her bed.

Her bed, in a converted ranch home that she's made positively cozy. He feels like a teenager sneaking in through the window, out of place amongst the artwork and Christmas lights and tchotchkes. He could almost put himself two centuries back, in some college girl's over-decorated dorm room.

But sorority girls don't have deathclaw skulls mounted over their dressers.

Lizzie suddenly catches him on an upward thrust that makes both of them hiss. Then she seats herself flush against him, and it's the closest to heaven he's probably going to get for the kind of bastard he is. She's warm, slick-wet around him and for him. Hazel eyes blown wide and cheeks dark with arousal. It's the first time in years he's felt wanted like this; like he's something worth wanting rather than the irradiated husk of a man.

Another thrust and she shudders, muttering in Spanish and squeezing her eyes shut.

He doesn't catch what she says, but he can't help a little self-deprecation for the road. "If you gotta pretend I'm someone else, by all means."

She swears—and that doesn't need a translation—before her eyes are open and fixed on him. "Give me a name to start moanin' and there won't be any confusion," she says, rolling her hips to punctuate it.

"Jesus Christ," he says through his teeth.

"I'm not callin' you that."

He wouldn't normally offer up his name to anyone not worth knowing he was a human once, but she's something different. He knows that the way the wind blows, he'll likely never see her again, but he'll keep the memory of her tucked nice and close for those lonely, long nights.

"Cooper," he says at last.

She smiles, eyes reflecting those ridiculous rainbow lights strung up around her bedroom. Something about her feels otherworldly, powerful. Either he's already in some weird endorphin-induced haze, or he's more into her than he thought.

"Cooper," she repeats. It's easy and warm as sunshine in her mouth, and he wants to hear it again. He bucks his hips for her, driving up into that heat, eager to get a gasp, a whisper—anything.

And she delivers. Leaning over, tits pressed to his chest, mouth by one of his scarred-up ears, she says his name over and over. Follows the rhythm of his thrusts, loses the syllables as he pushes her over the edge. His name is unstrung, a thread caught in her moans and keens. Then she's pushed to open-mouthed silence, riding it out in desperate asyncopation.

When she finally comes down, he's on the way up. She's clinging to his shoulders still, their chests pressed together, her heartbeat a riot of rhythm rushing through his chest.

Then her mouth goes back to his ear.

"It's Adelita," she says, sighs. "Lizzie to everyone else. Adelita to you."

It's a hell of a trade—a name for a name, a release for a god-fucking-blessed release. He comes harder than he has in years, her name warm on his tongue. He fucks into her, pulsing, filling her, earning another gasp and moan wrapped around his name.

When it's all done, she rolls off him onto her back, chest heaving for breath. He's wheezing for his through rotten lungs. But he watches her, the colors of the lights on her freckled skin and in her eyes, the tresses of her hair falling across her sweat-damp forehead, the scar—

His eyes catch on it. Two interlinked starbursts of scar tissue on the right side of her forehead.

Bullet wounds.

He reaches up to push her hair away from it, pads of his fingers brushing over her skin so that he can almost fool himself into thinking he can feel it. "Looks like there's a story up here," he says. Maybe jokes.

She's still smiling. A little weary, a little amused. "That's my hard reset," she says.

"Oh?"

His hand's still on the scar, and she reaches up to tap the back of his hand twice. Tap-tap, in hard sequence. "Two little 9mm bites," she explains. "Sent me into an early grave."

Cooper frowns, looks at her hand now resting on his, both pressed to her forehead. Now that he's looking, he can also see a faint, hair-thin scar that follows her scalp line all the way across. This girl's got some history.

"I gather that it didn't take," he replies.

Lizzie—Adelita—hums to herself, then sings, "There ain't no grave can hold my body down," before looking up at him. "I did get better."

"I see that. So, either you're the prettiest ghoul that done walked the wastes, or the Mojave's got better doctors than I thought."

"The latter," she confirms. "Myself included."

"No shit?"

Her dark brows rise, grin plain on her face. "Doc Holliday. Get it?"

The joke catches him by surprise, again. A lot of shit about this girl is a surprise. It pries a laugh out of him, then earns a few strokes through her hair. "That's good," he says. "That's real good."

"Gracias."

They lay there in a shockingly comfortable silence. His hand in her hair, combing the strands back and away from that scar. She leans up against him, eyes half-lidded, a dreamy expression on her face.

Then, she sighs, "This is already a damn good vacation."

"Glad I could contribute," Cooper says. "High-stress job?"

She sighs, blinks slow, then reaches up and rests an arm across his waist. "You have no idea," she says.

Curiosity gets the best of him. He's a man who appreciates people keeping their noses—or lack thereof—out of his business. However, he's also a bounty hunter, a man making his too-long living on asking the right questions and using those answers to his benefit down the road. It might be good to know something about her, to make connections, to network as some assholes in his past life might say.

"Merc work? Or somethin' worse?"

"Jack of all trades," she says. She raises up her gaze to him, and for one brief, strange moment, her eyes catch that unearthly light again that he can't entirely blame on the Christmas lights. "Mostly courier. An' mostly ruler of New Vegas."

---

Years down the line, Cooper Howard goes back to Vegas.

It's with company now—a vault girl he's tolerating a little more by the day, and a dog. They cross the Mojave, following the silhouette of Vegas by day and its glow by night, drawing in closer and closer like irradiated moths to Vegas' big ol' flame.

Just shy of Goodsprings, as the foothills lean forward like they're drawn in by the city, too, Lucy asks, "What kind of place is New Vegas, anyhow?"

Cooper shrugs and adjusts his pack as Dogmeat trots alongside him, tongue lolling out of her mouth. "Sleazy, dirty, bright," he says. Then, his eyes catch the tallest building in the row of casinos—the top a massive roulette wheel with its spire pointing to heaven. He has to amend his opinion, for the first time since he stepped foot in Vegas as a healthy human. "Ain't the worst watering hole, though."

"We're not going to get shot at right through the gate?"

Despite himself, Cooper smiles. He draws down the brim of his hat as low as he can without losing vision.

"Nah," he says. "All we gotta say is that Lizzie Holliday put in a good word for us."

[clarkes-and-god]

"Hi Beth! How're you doing?"

"Oh, hello Zizi! Gosh, I don't think we were expecting company. Is everything ok?"

"Don't be silly, we're fine! I just thought I'd drop by, I have a casserole for you since you're about to have that sweet baby. It's made with the mushrooms Cooper found the other day, and all the cheese is made from milk from our cow, Betsy. It's really good for you and the baby. So much better than that processed junk, that'll only make you fat."

"That's very thoughtful of you, it looks... very healthy."

"Talking about that, have you made up your mind on the home birth yet? I mean, I know it's a bit unusual for you, but I really think a home birth is the best option for you and the baby. And I can help! I've done it before, I know what I'm doing. I used to help my Mama when my little brothers and sisters were born."

"I mean, I just worry about what if something goes wrong. What would we do? It'll take so long to get to a hospital from up here, we might not get a doctor in time."

"Beth, you need to put your faith in the Lord. Us ladies are designed for this, your body knows what to do. The only reason people always have doctors nowadays is because the government wants to be involved with our kids as soon as possible, and they inject those babies with all sorts of horrible chemicals, it's not natural."

"I understand where you're coming from, Zizi, but I've just always thought I'd give birth in a hospital, and I really want what's safest for the baby. I wouldn't get the baby vaccinated or anything, my mom never did that either."

"Look, I get that you think hospitals are safer, but that's just what you've been told. Actually, more than 97% of babies in the NICU were born in hospitals, so I don't know how you can think they're any safer. And women who give birth in hospital, and their babies, are 70% more likely to have intervention related injuries! I think it all could be avoided if we just put a little more trust in God, He designed us to do this perfectly."

"Really? How awful! All those little babies all alone in the NICU! That's just horrid. So hospitals aren't safer? Goodness, maybe we should reconsider. I'll talk to Fabian about it."

"Good! Yeah, they really aren't. You know, I've heard that some women asked for their babies not to be vaccinated or something, but the hospital did it anyways! I pray every day for all those sweet babies who have mamas who put them in danger like that, just because it's what everyone else does, and because they're a slave to the system and want to go back to work as soon as possible.

"I think I will, too."

[purrs-and-pixels]

Young Family (Strangetown) Round 18

Day 5

Ember and Hexe are getting to know each other—they’re just so incredibly cute. The Young family is already smitten with the two of them!

So tiny! The bed is way too big for Hexe :D

More about the family below the cut.

Franklyn’s first morning as a teenager is off to a great start! Today is his first day of school as a teenager. I’m curious to see if he meets anyone new. As a neurotic Sim, Franklyn doesn’t really like leaving the house, so this could be a good opportunity for him to make some friends.…which he didn’t really have as a child.

And here’s the second baby bump!

Jordan may not like animals in general, but it seems to be a different story with his own pets. :D Especially dogs

Franklyn actually met someone! Betsy even caught his eye, but unfortunately, she’s only into women. Of course, Franklyn respects that, but he still hopes to keep Betsy as his best friend. The two of them get along incredibly well.

What a eventful day! Franklyn is winding down for the evening, while Jordan is learning to sing with his mom. Though, it looks like Maizie is enjoying it more than Jordan.

I'm so excited to see what the new baby will look like! Mostly, though, I’m wondering how I’ll make space for them—but that’s a problem for future me.

Samuel and Kana are celebrating their time together by dancing every evening. This relationship is going much better than their first attempt.

And so, the last day of this round comes to an end. Next time I play this family, the new baby will be born. Jordan has mastered all his toddler skills, two new pets have been adopted, Franklyn has grown up and has made a new friend, and Kana and Samuel are considering moving out to make room for the new arrival—they even got engaged! All in all, it’s been an eventful round!

This round was really enjoyable, which is surprising since I always found the Young family a bit boring before. But I’ve adjusted my playstyle since the last round, and it’s really working out well. I’m already looking forward to next time!

[megamindsupremacy]

Crossover PJO fics

PJO/DC

Sons of wisdom by darkmagyk

'Bruce has always known he’s meant for war.

As a son of Athena, the gods probably think he’s meant for their war.

They are wrong.'

Bruce Wayne is a Demigod. It changes absolutely everything. It changes almost nothing.

-

The ship of Theseus by zipadeea

“What do you think of the Waynes?” Percy had asked Annabeth the week before. “Seems like they’re in Gotham’s headlines all the time, and not always for great reasons. You think they’re involved with the mob or something?”

“The opposite, actually,” Annabeth had replied, a wry smile on her face.

“What’s the opposite of the mob?”

“In Gotham? What do you think?”

Percy’s eyes had widened. “No. No way. Bruce Wayne is such a goof, there’s no way--,”

“Wouldn’t that be the best cover, though?”

***

Poseidon once told Percy he was his favorite son.

But he's not the only one.

-

Oh my Gods by siren_of_the_ocean

Tim Drake is a demigod in the Battle of Manhattan. He sends Thalia to inform the Justice league about well…Everything. And Kon is concerned.

-

PJO/Marvel

Toil and trouble by silverbird6

The air was thick with magic, so similar to the Mist and yet much more…chaotic. It pulled at the strands of Hazel’s hair and clutched at her mind, trying to convince her she was Betsy, a member of the neighborhood women's club and was very interested in making sure the town talent show went off without a hitch. Hazel was more concerned with the way she seemed to lose time every once in a while and wake up in a strange house, usually cooking or cleaning or tending to the garden.

After the events of Avengers Endgame, Hazel follows some unusual magic to the small town of Westview.

-

The File by denimbeans

The elevator dinging was probably the best sound Hazel had ever heard. Thanking the Gods for Leo and his well thrown screwdriver hitting the button, she had rushed to the Doors.

Clytius got there first.

When a body had collapsed on the threshold, Hazel almost felt like throwing up. It was Percy, it had to be, but…Gods of Olympus, he looked horrible. His hair was longer than she remembered, matted and streaked with blood. His clothes were torn and coated with golden dust. His skin looked like somebody had sucked the life out of it.

-

Can I Write 'Tried to rob Tony Stark' on My Resume? by hyperInactive

Percy was at least happy that this wasn't a prophecy. Stealing back some demigod weapons from a mortal? Sure, Iron Man was a superhero and a genius, but after dealing with Gaea, that was nothing. They just had to steer clear of anyone who might recognize them, and they were positive that they could pull it off easier than most of their quests. And potentially land Leo a job, while they're at it.

But Percy should have known better. Nothing is ever that simple for a demigod.

-

The Battle of New York... the SECOND Battle of New York by Variscite

The Seven (plus Nico and Will) fight in the Battle of New York with the Avengers.

This is set after the Trials of Apollo, so if you haven’t read that you’ll get pretty major spoilers, just a heads up.

ROUND TWO ADDITION:

Ancient History, Modern Times by tearsofsaudade

Clint was the first one to notice the kid, maybe sixteen or seventeen years old, wearing an old blue hoodie over a faded orange shirt and sitting cross-legged on a bench in Central Park eating a sandwich.  All normal things for teenage boys to be doing.  He shook his head and brushed black hair out of his face as he took another bite, completely unconcerned.

Meanwhile, Thor flew two feet in front of him at the speed of sound as a giant robot flung him away from the fight happening literally right in front of the bench.

Or: Percy Jackson meets different Avengers because he's doing things he shouldn't be doing. As usual.

-

And Death Won't Come Knocking by icewhisper

The history books remember Steve Rogers as the son of an Irish immigrant, but the people who saw him every summer remember him as Greek.

[chicvibes2730]

The necessities.

∆ I want to send a deep apology to all my future children. Brown, white, or yellow. I sure have been caught in the ugliest little shorts and pajamas I will ever wear. I know what your thinking. Well sweetheart you need to smell some flowers and wake up pretty early. I proved all these beautiful fashionistas are planning these day to day outfits. If they are not than you are seriously blessed. Right sweet chops I'm trying to complement you because to look fabulous you obviously are fabulous. If not I'm here to talk about essentials. I know about all these fashion tips because of shopping and observational cues. I have been doing my own shopping for about ten years now.

• Let's start with tank tops. Please do not shy away from name branded T-shirts and tanks. I would recommend a very soft fabric like Polo. I sure would also recommend their Beverly Hills Collection. Also do not shy away from a bold red tank top. I recommend getting them in brown, tan, white, and black. I sure did own a bright purple tank top before in my High School Era. This of course was before my Apartment was raided by my immigrant family. That my dear is another topic.

• Black pants are a must. Leather is fine and expensive my dear. Try an outlet store instead of the traditional Zara. Try Nordstrom and the all traditional Marshalls. I know what your thinking. I much rather Nordstrom. I have to tell you that I found the cutest baby blue Toms there at Marshalls. Also snag a look at TJ Maxx. I would bundle up on black jeans. Try buying about five pairs of the good old black Levis jeans. If you cannot find any Levis than try a good Charlotte jean. Black has always been a color to signify death. So be careful on having so much black. Yet, a funeral outfit, is a must.

• White T-Shirt. I recommend printed whites as well. They pair well with the basic jean. Light or dark. Accompany them with more of a Jane shoe. Even the boots that yell out hippie. The color white is a good color for rebirth. It is very traditional. I also would recommend a white button down.

• Comfort Bra and Panties. I recommend the colors Tan and Black. I ain't swearing by them, but they are, the usual traditional colors. Try snagging a pink comfort bra and panties for the sake of girlhood.

• Branded socks. Try Adidas and champion. That I can swear by. For women' try a more snug feel' and men should try a more constructive feeling.

• Recognized Jewlery. Do not shy away from the old snatch of Sterling silver. I know I know. You want gold. I would recommend the site of Etsy. I love the Betsy Jewelry as well. I also recommend the Kay jewelers.

• Printed Apparel. Like the Iconic tree printed Michael Kors shirt. Very epic. I would also like to see more of these women wearing Polka Dots. Just saying.

• Black Shoes. Try one with a buckle. The dearly beloved Coach Brand can help in this.

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

All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Nisei (3x09)

For years Penny tried to ignore the flashes. It seemed like out of nowhere, she’d be blinded by a bright, white light she couldn’t blink away. Sometimes during intimacy with her husband, his loving face would be momentarily replaced by a familiar stranger looming over her, causing her to cry and pull away. Other times, all she could hear was the whirring sound of a drill.

These flashes would only last a moment, and for years she told herself it was probably just a side effect of the stress her unexplained disappearances caused. A drug habit, fugue state, an affair, everyone had their theories about where she was when she went missing. All Penny knew was that, cumulatively, there were nine months of her life that she didn’t get to live.

But then something happened, and she couldn’t ignore the flashes anymore. Penny had been to the gynecologist plenty of times in her life, but this time she was filled with a sense of impending dread. It was a perfect storm of triggers, being so exposed, her legs spread in the stirrups, the smell of anesthetic, the sharp snap of plastic gloves, the cold metal-

They were strapping her down to the table, injecting her with something that made her vision blur. Her stomach felt like it was going to burst. She could feel the metal rod impaling her.

The next thing she knew, she was in the corner of the room screaming while her OBGYN looked on in horror.

After that, she recognized the flashes for what they were: memories.

* * *

After joining the MUFON group, Penny learned there were some memories all the women in the group shared — the light, the men, the pain. 

But, usually, everyone remembered something that was unique to their experience. Lottie remembered one of her doctors sardonically humming America the Beautiful as he arranged the drill bit. Betsy remembered hearing an Asian language being spoken above her. Quite a few women fervently remembered someone smoking a cigarette.

For Penny, she remembered comforting a young woman with auburn hair. But, just like all the memories, it came back in vague bits, vignettes that were difficult to discern. 

Someone screaming, “Stop! Get away from me!”

The distant sounds of beeping getting faster.

A sense of empathetic dread.

A trembling, red-headed woman who reminded Penny of her sister.

The warmth of holding someone in her arms.

Bright blue eyes filled with tears.

Today, she finally got to put a name with a face.

Dana Scully.

* * *

There was something surreal about knowing the ins and outs of a stranger’s body language.

Dana’s tendency to blink back emotions, the anxious swipe of her tongue across her lips, her need to shield her vulnerability by hiding her face in her hands — Penny knew it all. She had been at Dana’s side during some of the darkest times of their lives, yet she had to resist the urge to pull her into her arms like she’d done a thousand times before. The younger woman didn’t remember her.

Even though Penny found comfort in knowing these other women knew what she’d gone through, she understood why it could make someone uncomfortable. The intimate violations they’d all endured were dehumanizing, cruel, and seemingly senseless. Dana seemed to be a private person, having a room full of people she didn’t recognize talk about her trauma so openly seemed to be too much.

She said she wasn’t ready to discuss her experience, and Penny respected that. Trying to figure out what words felt accurate to the violation was a personal experience for everyone. 

Penny wishes she could take away her pain. The first time is always the worst, and this woman thinks they’re going to kill her. She doesn’t realize they aren’t that merciful. She isn’t sure why they keep allowing her to approach the young woman, let alone hold her for so long, but she isn’t going to question it. Physical touch that didn’t come with pain was rare here.

* * *

There were women just like them all over the globe, women who came together after their abduction experiences to offer support to each other. The people in their day-to-day lives might not have been willing to listen to them, but according to Betsy, some of the women from the European chapters of MUFON said they had caught the attention of people who hadn’t been abducted. There was even a woman who was interested in their stories, who cared enough to document their experiences and accompany the women to their doctor’s appointments.

Getting other people to listen was the first step to being taken seriously, to finding out who was behind this.

There weren’t many of them in Allentown, but they had each other. It was the strength of these women that got her through those experiences, and it was the strength of these women that would help her embark on this dark path they were all destined to walk.

Penny’s hand covers the back of Dana’s neck where an adhesive bandage covers the mark that will tie them together forever.

Dana doesn’t say much anymore, but when she does, it’s usually the same reassurance to herself.

“He’ll find me.”

“My partner, he-uh,” Dana stammered, turning away from the window when Betsy struggled to climb down from the MRI machine, clearly exhausted from the new rounds of tests she was forced to undergo. “He’s waiting for me.”

“I know this is hard, Dana,” Penny whispered, clasping the woman’s hands in her own for the first time in over a year. “But I hope you know you’re not alone.”

Dana offered a small smile and squeezed Penny’s hand before stepping out of the room.

“Do you think we’ll be seeing her again?” Lottie asked from beside her.

“We’re going to get out of here,” the red-headed woman whispers against Penny’s temple, wiping away tears Penny didn’t realize had fallen. “You can’t give up hope.”

With a smile, Penny nodded. “Yes."

Read the rest of All Eyes Lead to the Truth on Ao3

@gaycrouton

[thebreakfastgenie]

ok Alan Alda characters in Alan Alda movies ranked by how much I like them

Jack The Four Seasons (he does have a last name in the credits but I forget what it is and can't be bothered) - he kinda sucks but he really loves Carol Burnett and I love him. he loves his kid too but he doesn't really have scenes with her because Alan was letting his daughters spread their own wings while nepo-ing them. his "I'm tired of being nice I just wanna go apeshit" moment when he smashes the shit out of a ski lodge was like. felt. also jumps in the water and takes a bite out of the middle of a baguette both of which I would do.

Joe Tynan Seduction of Joe Tynan he's a united states senator and the only one directly confirmed to eat pussy

Steve Giardino A New Life (I'm like 80% sure that's his name I'm not googling any more of these) he's like viscerally upsetting to look at but kind of in a good way. he works on wall street which is lame. he has a doctor fetish (tells his ex-wife she should be a doctor, marries a doctor). eats after sex but unlike Joe Tynan does not use this habit to confirm he eats pussy. specifically eats ice cream with red pepper flakes on it. is obsessed with putting red pepper flakes on all food.

Eddie Hopper Betsy's Wedding (ok I actually did have to google this one but I did not google Jack The Four Seasons' last name at the same time) he's so fucking stupid it takes him most of the movie to figure out he's involved with the mob

Michael Burgess Sweet Liberty the reason I can't remember any of their names with confidence is I always just call them Alan Alda but he might be the most Alan Alda of them all. he's a professor but we barely see him teach which is sad. he has some really sparkling moments though like using the same lettuce technique to pick up two different women and getting his shirt homoerotically cut to shreds by Michael Caine and having a man say "step on me" to him. he also sleeps with a woman who is portraying the subject of his historical research in a film and the gets upset that she's an actual person out of character and I wish more of the movie was about how insane he was for that. he kind of deserves all of his travails except the thing with his mother. I still love him tho.

[ms-newvegas]

top 5 quests on new vegas!

Oooo!!

Bye bye love— Joanna is charming and I get to help her and other women escape terrible things, it then also leads into me betraying and killing Cachino lol. Headcanon is that they settled down in Novac and the courier goes over for dinner sometimes

Three card bounty— I get to kill Cookcook! Very cathartic sometimes. I like the challenge of the fights overall in that one

Classic Inspiration— fun for role playing purposes especially, like “what landmarks would my courier think Michaelangelo would want to see?” I always take extra pictures, not just the ones he needs.

I forgot to remember to forget— the themes of guilt and grief and bitterness and choice. His belief that he has bad things coming to him, that he deserves it, and is just waiting for it to happen. Something about bearing the shame and weight of your past. Also I think he is right, what the legion would have done to Carla is worse than death.

I don’t hurt anymore— once again, I get to help a woman with trauma, also Betsy is a lesbian which I mean I love a lesbian, and talking to her squadmates to get their stories to try to convince her with is interesting and fills out the world of the game a little more.

Bonus: One for my baby— love Boone, love his sad story, etc etc also Novac is one of my favorite places in the game

[terrence-silver]

Who do you think Terry lost his virginity to?

Two options I always leaned towards myself;

Logically, considering he could've been no older than seventeen or eighteen, give or take, he either lost it in Vietnam, much like countless other GI's at the time undoubtedly did, to some nameless sex worker(s), in some nameless brothel, in some city, town or village along the trail of the US war effort in the country. Possibly, after much encouragement and pushing from John and Ponytail who were convinced it was due time and that Twig needed a shove in the right direction. Believable. Some teensy-tinsy amount of peer pressure might've been involved, yes. Maybe not. Who is to tell? A bit of both?

Or, perhaps, years and years before he actually went off to the war, I can see Terry Silver's father as the overly patriarchal, hyper-traditionalist type there to ensure his boy became a man as soon as possible, especially if he deemed his son was already 'too soft', gentle and shy and 'needed fixing'. That extreme measures in these extreme circumstances needed to be taken to avoid his one and only heir from going bad, like a rotten apple; something he had to be coaxed out of a taught a lesson in true manhood 'before it is too late'. What ensued is possibly a criminally young Terry, again, brought to a sex worker or rather, lets call it a 'trusted friend of his father's' who did the job for him as young as age twelve or thirteen and it might've been an affair as clinical as a medical check-up. After all, Terry himself said he has had many teachers and his old man was definitely one of them, I think we all agree, but nobody said the things he was taught were anywhere near sane or even good, not even by the standards of the early to late 1950's when this could've taken place.

Also, I see these two options as something that can coexist side by side.

Terry, or, a young Twig during Vietnam simply lying he was still a virgin at the time he was in the military to his friends who would've undoubtedly teased him relentlessly when he, ironically, fidgety and boyish as he was lost his virginity sooner than any of them (even sooner than the buff, more classically manly, borderline All-American John Kreese himself who had a full-blown sweetheart back home in Betsy), but if he told them that was the case and that he already knew what the fuss was all about, they wouldn't believe him. That he's merely saying it to seem tough and save face. Avoid ridicule. That's what he might've felt. After all, they had a preconceived notion of him and that notion was that Twig was clumsy, silly, a bit of a sheltered haphazard and definitely the type that can't pull poontang or ladies, because hey, c'mon, he's a cute kid, but it is still Twig. Women ain't exactly lining up for some scrawny, lanky guy who is all limbs. In truth, he lost his virginity extremely early. One would even saying worryingly early. Worse yet, I can imagine that for the longest time (or maybe even all his life) Terry Silver was convinced he was done a favor with this early loss of innocence and that it helped strengthen him as a man. That that's how things should be. He became a winner instead of a wimp.

Which, if we open our third eye and tend to view what he, for example, gleefully did to a teenage Daniel Larusso back in the 1980's as a form of grooming (both into violence, bad habits and well --- god only knows) it also explains a lot. It was done to Terry once upon a time. Now, he is doing it to others. Perpetuating a multigenerational cycle of abuse. Hurt people hurt people. In Terry's case, though, he wouldn't necessarily even realize, admit or see himself as one of the hurt parties. Quite the contrary.

[msfbgraves]

Daniel loves being pregnant, but does he actually like how he looks pregnant, especially when he’s near the end of said pregnancy? He didn’t like how he looked when Terry forced him to take the first picture lol. Anyways…When Daniel’s about to go into labor, how does he (or anyone) convince Terry to calm down and let him go to the hospital considering how protective and insane Alphas get? Especially the first time Daniel is ready to have their kid, Sam. Terry was so on edge at the hospital! When their Alpha pups are older, do they feel like this when Daniel is about to have another puppy? Especially the final one, as he’s older then.

Was John the same with Betsy considering she’s a beta, or is John just less “extra” and more stoic/calm under pressure lol?

Daniel is a little vain and he was very far along for the first picture, so he'd let his standards slip somewhat - looking more casual than he'd allow himself otherwise, and nowhere near photo op material. Plus it's just a little on the nose, being photographed because his Alpha wants to show off who exactly put that puppy there. Pictures like that are usually not taken when an omega looks so very well fucked, and pardon my language.

He starts to get very good at pregnancy snazzy chic, and he likes it fine, but this being Daniel he mostly sees his puppy. His baby. All to himself, just Mama and them. It's omega overdrive, his Ma did not feel that way all the time I promise, but Daniel feels a bit selfish about his pregnancy, every time. This is the only time when the pup is completely his, his body a literal barrier between the world and their love. Don't get him wrong, he means it that puppy needs to feel and hear the love of the rest of the family - their Daddy, siblings, famiglia, their voices, love, touch, but ultimately, it's Mama and puppy's special time. And those photo ops, they're about his darling pups for Daniel, born and as yet unborn, the more he takes.

As for Alpha overdrive - that's why Terry employs betas. For somebody to stay cool. Because John Kreese may seem stoic, but especially considering his darling is beta and betas are known to die during this stuff... John is always completely stoic until he straight up flips, so... Bobby, Snake, Dennis, and the beta women like Betsy, Lucille, Jessica have a very important job in making sure people keep their heads. Lucille is mostly close at hand during Daniel's last weeks of pregnancy, and Terry and John may keep each other in check during those times but it's the betas that take over the thinking.

With the last puppies Daniel's children aren't as concerned as they would be about a mate, but Robby is working overtime to keep everyone in check, even Gianni - he seems chill until he's very much not - and Yasmin is using Luna as some kind of envoy between them, Nonna and Anthony because those two are right there at Daniel's side (that's not much use to Yasmin because Luna somehow finds her way to the pediatrics waiting rooms and occupies herself soothing other children there. They won't let her into Mama's room anyway, she's too young.) Luna is right there though when Daddy can't contain himself any longer and tries to stronghold his way unto the parental ward before he's allowed entry. With the last ever pup, she simply stays with Daddy the whole time he's in the Alpha waiting area, which just about keeps Terry coherent.

[thatseventiesbitch]

If you are doing fic requests, can you make one of Donna, Eric, Jackie and Kelso meeting again after a long time and that leads to Eric to confront Kelso about Jay and Leia dating, I love overprotective dad Eric and I'm sure Kelso would take this opportunity to do his iconic burns lol

❤️❤️❤️

Thanks for the ask! This is part 1 of a 2 part double-date drabble (part 2 here 😁) Prompt Ask Game

"Be nice," Donna warned Eric as he pulled open the heavy door to the restaurant and they walked inside.

"Nice?" Eric exclaimed, incredulous.

Donna rolled her eyes. "Fine. Be... not awful."

"I'll try," he growled under his breath.

Donna waved. She spotted Jackie and Kelso across the room, and jabbed Eric with her elbow. "C'mon."

"Eric Forman," Kelso drawled as they approached the table. He stood up and reached a hand out towards his old friend, like he was going to shake his hand. But when Eric extended his, Kelso yanked his hand back and smoothed his palm over his slicked back hair. He laughed abrasively, and then yanked the scrawnier man into a hug anyway.

"Ha. Ha," Eric forced a laugh as they pulled back.

"Jugs a 'Poppin," Kelso acknowledged Donna next. He stared at her chest while he sucked on his teeth. "Still got those poppin' jugs, I see."

"Michael!" Jackie swatted at him.

"And you haven't changed at all, Kelso," Donna chuckled. She and Jackie sat down on one side of the table, and Eric and Kelso sat on the other.

They kept it cordial during their beverage order, and the bread basket. Packers vs the Bears, some small-talk about their jobs, a little about Red & Kitty and Kelso's folks. But as Kelso downed his first beer and started on his second, he licked some of the foam off his upper lip and smirked at Eric. He was starting in.

"Can't believe we have kids now."

"Yeah." Eric shook his head. "I know. It's weird. All grown up."

Kelso shook his head. "All's I can say is I'm glad me and Jackie had a boy." He burped inelegantly, and leaned in with another smirk. "So I only have to worry about one dick instead of every dick, like you."

Eric's expression hardened. "I'm only worried about one," he glared at Kelso. "Your kid better keep his nasty little hands off my Leia, or there'll be - "

"Oh they haven't done it yet," Kelso interrupted casually. He took a bite of his entree. "I asked him last week." He smirked conspiratorially. "Even gave him a few pointers, if you know what I mean - "

Eric slammed down his silverware, hard enough that it caught the attention of the tables around them. He stood up, shoving his chair back from the table with some force.

"Eric," Donna's eyes immediately shot to his, a warning, questioning look on her face. We talked about this.

His inner conflict was apparent on his face. Eric stood for a minute longer, eyes darting for the door like he was contemplating an escape, but he finally sighed and slid back into his chair, his loyalty to his wife and daughter winning out. He rested his head in his hands, while he heard Donna order him another drink. Something stronger. That was probably a bad idea.

"Kelso - you have a daughter too," he said, finally dropping his hands to look at his old friend again, exasperated. "How do you want guys to treat Betsy when they date her?"

"Oh, she's not allowed to date," Kelso chuckled.

Eric sighed. "Leia wasn't, either. Until Jay came along."

It had been the wrong thing to say. Kelso was grinning like a cat who'd eaten the canary.

"Yeah. Yeah, we Kelsos have that effect on women," he grinned proudly. His eyes widened comically. "Including your wife and daughter. BURN!"

Eric rolled his eyes. "God I... love this topic. So much."

Kelso nodded smugly. "That's why I always bring it up."

The waitress arrived with the whiskey Donna'd ordered for him, and Eric grabbed for it desperately. "Alright, give me that."

"I think it's perfect that our kids ended up together," Kelso continued. "It'll be the burn that keeps on burnin'."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Eric interrupted him. He felt the alcohol already. "No one said anything about 'ending up' together. This is a phase, alright? I'm not spending my Christmases with you."

Kelso looked wounded. "Why not, man? I do an awesome bottle rocket show every year." He grinned and held up his left hand. "Almost lost my thumb last year."

"That's... why."

Kelso had turned serious - well, as serious as he ever got, anyway. "Jay really likes her, man."

"Well of course he does. What's not to like?" Eric shrugged dismissively.

"I think we should give them a chance."

Eric was thrown by the usually goofy, immature man's tone. "A chance?" he sputtered. "A chance to do what? Get in her pants?"

"No, man. To fall in love." The words were soft and sincerely said, and they took Eric by surprise. He was quiet for a minute, actually considering Kelso's words. But then he started to laugh.

"They're 16, Kelso." Eric took another sip of his drink and shook his head, as if to reassure himself. "What are the chances?"

Kelso shrugged. "I mean - look at you and Donna." He grinned. "And me and Jackie."

Eric raised his eyebrow. "How many times have you guys been divorced again?" Kelso flashed a 2 on his fingers, and Eric frowned. "Yeah, I'm not sure that qualifies as a happily ever after..."

"Oh, we're happily ever after in bed, Eric, and that's all that matters."

"Aaaand it's time for the check." Eric glanced around hastily. "Waiter?"

[sebastianshaw]

Will get to asks after my walk but:

Idk why this is NOW randomly annoying me, but when I used to bring up how people forget Emma was depicted as a tech expert back in her OG 80s days,That Pierce Player would always derisively say that of course she was, that EVERY Claremont woman was a tech expert ninja pilot blah blah blah

Ok firstly asshole, it was really just more that he made a lot female characters (Betsy, Maddie, Carol) be pilots because his badass mother was. And yes also made a lot of women into badasses that weren’t before, or created them whole that way, which was a huge fuckin awesome improvement. But the only one who was a computer expert ninja was Kitty, and she wasn’t a pilot. And Storm, the most badass, wasn’t any of these things. Dude had a sense of moderation and what fit the character.

But more than that…while a lot of Emma’s accomplishments seem a little OTT now, like how did she find time to be an allegedly licensed sex therapist, at the time we had no idea what her profession was besides a school mistress and supervillain, her being a tech expert in addition to a telepath was really not OTT at all. I’d actually say it MADE SENSE because it suggested a source for her wealth, and let her bring something additional to the Inner Circle besides her mutant powers, which ALL THE MEN ALSO DID—Shaw brought his business sense and engineering talent (which doubtless played well with Emma’s tech creation) , Harry had his legal expertise, and Pierce… was actually kinda redundant with his robotics lol

Tbqh I think he was just mad when he saw people stepping on what he thought of as Pierce’s territory as The Super Best Tech Mogul (which he’s not in the comics, he’s generally just a transhumanist cult leader, and pretty small scale most of the time) so I think he was mad at the idea Emma actually objectively contributed more in this field in canon (she built Mutivac, a computer similar to Cerebro except anyone could use it, and a device that amplified Mastermind’s powers when he was influencing Jean, and the mind-switching ray gun, Pierce built exactly Jack Shit during his time with them, he mostly just turns people into cyborgs, he’s not creative)

[macchiatosdumptruck]

S3ep2:

-"he's the one who's mom killed herself."

When will they start telling the stories that I'm interested in and stop using women as props?

- Kreese really says "I can excuse child endangerment but I draw the line at preying on underaged girls."

- which, while not necessarily going against his previous characterization of calling young waitresses "sweet cheeks," does seem inconsistent. He seems to show the most empathy towards young girls, and then loses it as they get older.

-s1 johnny stated there were never any girls in Cobra Kai as a rule, Aisha was the first. so what had to have changed for John to go from "no girls allowed/girls are a distraction" to "you're gonna be my best fighter" (in reference to Tory)

(I know the simple answer is inconsistent writing but I'm trying to give the characters more of a benefit of the doubt than the writers tbh.)

It's very obvious losing Betsy is what convinces him that love/women were a weakness, but what convinces him that they could/should fight? Just time?

He seems to view Tory as a kindred soul. I think that has a way of removing her from his typical views on gender. It's almost like he doesn't view her as a young girl. He views her first as a fighter.

But he only really interacts with Tory, Betsy, and Amanda. There are occasional unnamed characters he is more traditionally chauvinistic towards.

I can't help but feel he puts on a chauvinistic, machismo persona for his own sake.

His mother is only mentioned in passing.

Women are archetypes.

They're either innocent or temptress. Victim or fighter.

Amanda, he clearly views as a trouble maker.

-"I can't believe you taught kids."

"Yeah, like you're such a great teacher. Look at Robby."

Like, I know people are hurting and lashing out, and so those words make sense for the moment, but for real why do the writers seem to keep finding ways of placing blame on Miyagi-do?

It's high key sus.

"always remember your enemies think they're doing what's right. There is no good. There is no bad. There is only weak and strong. "

Feel like that's a good Kreese quote we should maybe pay more attention to.