#which also had a butch and she really helped me pick out my first chest binder

[ashi-cookie]

fr i can't stop thinking about all the butches i just kinda ran into in taiwan

[woahajimes]

Jon Kent had become an excellent liar. 

“We're never finding Damian.” 

That was a lie, although it could also count as truth. They were never finding Damian. 

He was. 

He didn’t have any of this information assured, but he was trusting that it kept real. He had known Damian for at least a year and a half, perhaps even less, but it had felt like forever. It was funny how people changed over time. 

When he met Damian, things were rocky. Jon actually despised Damian, he tried to get away from him. He’d always make excuses for leaving, either with Kathy, or his dad, or Maya, even. Damian had been too cocky, a little far too confident. 

Too sure of himself and his abilities, it made Jon angry. 

It filled him with envy. 

When they were sent to boot camp, Jon realized something. Damian was, sure, older than him, and more mature, and maybe not taller, but he was more skilled than Jon in almost everything he could do. 

Damian was, in a way, just like him. A small way, of course. Nothing big, they weren’t mirror on mirror. Jon hadn’t been raised by a supervillain grandfather, and Damian wasn’t a half-breed between an alien and a human.

That was really the reason that he offered Damian the granola bar. He realized the small chance that they were similar. They were both lost, in different ways, but lost altogether. Jon didn’t actually know if Damian had ever been lost, if Damian even knew that being lost meant. 

Maybe someday he’d find out. 

When Damian slipped into his room, mocked him for going to sleep while the moon was still living, when he dragged him out the window, mocked him once more for not being able to fly, that’s when Jon knew there was something. Something in Damian that made Jon want to stay, just for a while longer. 

When they matched in school, just a few educational years of a difference, nothing much, Jon was psyched. They were already close friends, even though not much had passed since Damian had visited him at night that first time. 

What could he say? They became friends pretty quickly. 

When Kid Amazo destroyed their headquarters, Jon and Damian had become pretty close friends. They were actually joking with each other, and mocking each other and making fun of each other, as friends do. Of course, Jon wouldn’t exactly know this by the palm of his hand, for friends weren’t exactly his area of expertise. 

Yet Damian felt like a friend, like a best friend. 

After all, he had saved him, when Jon was drowning at the bottom of Morrison Bay, given him a rebreather, and swam Jon’s limp, unconscious body for a few minutes, until Jon regained consciousness. 

Saving each other’s lives, they were practically inseparable. 

Their second Summer together came around, the whole gig with the cube of the fortress and the primary colours of Jon. If he was being honest, he really enjoyed that summer, perhaps the best summer in his ten years of life. Jon had always wanted a sibling, and that summer it felt like he had hit the jackpot. He could finally say that Damian was his best friend, at least without getting elbowed in the stomach. The golden kryptonite, Jon took it as a gift, being split in two, it was a portion of something he had wanted for so long: A brother. And even though having somewhat of a twin wasn’t as fun as he had expected, he enjoyed it, for as long as it lasted. 

Jon remembers telling Damian that he’s going to spend time with his grandfather. Jon was spending the night at the manor, he was sitting in front of the TV. 

“Hey, D?” Jon turned from the TV, he looked at Damian. “What are we doing this summer?” 

Damian drifted his eyes from the screen. He looked at Jon. “What do you mean?”

Jon rolled his eyes. “Summer is in like two days, dummy.” 

Damian shrugged, his eyes wandering back to the TV. “Nothing much, why?” 

Jon turned back to face the TV. “I think I’m going to go see my grandpa.” 

“Cool.” And that had been that. 

Jon should have told Damian a bit more, maybe then he would have been opposed to Jon leaving. Instead, he had left out minor details from Damian, details Clark had told him when Jon had left, when Jon had already spent a few years in the volcano prison. 

Jon had to admit that his time in the volcano prison had messed him up a bit. He had thought about Damian a lot, more than he’d like to admit. If Jon was around… what? Fifteen? Then Damian would have been around eighteen. It struck him a few days later, just how much he’d missed. Damian would have already left the school, maybe gone to some college for smart super-hero ninjas. Probably forgotten all about him, about the summer of super and the Kid Amazo and all the things that Jon held tight to his chest. He probably forgot about the time they played Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid with pillow forts and nerf guns, about the times they ate cotton candy, sitting on the roof of the Carousel in the Hamilton fair. Pairing up for sports, even though they were three years apart in grades. 

Damian had probably forgotten about all that. 

It was really the Hamilton fairs that got to Jon. He used to love those as a kid. He went for the first time when he was nine, second time ten, third time eleven. The second time he went, it had been Jon’s first year since meeting Damian.

Damian couldn’t go for some mission with Batman, but Jon had met up with Kathy, He told her all about his adventures with Damian. She kept quiet, mostly because Jon wouldn’t be. It was pretty insane to think that this had all been in the same year, Jon meeting Damian, Jon moving away from Hamilton, to a private school, creating a public figure alongside Damian: the Super Sons. Nearly drowning in Morrison Bay, his mom almost killed, it was a bit too much for the mind of a 10-year-old.

Yet Jon got to the part in which he called Damian his best friend, and Kathy spoke up.

“Jon,” She stopped what she was doing and she met eyes with him. “What is it you even like about Damian?”

The question had caught him off-guard. “I- He’s kinda nice someti-”

“No,” Kathy interrupted him. “Not really, no. He’s not that nice at all.”

Jon kept quiet. He shrugged it off with a simple “I guess so,” and the night kept moving. He returned home, but Kathy’s question rung in his ears.

“What is it you even like about Damian?”

Jon sat on the office chair in his room, a marker on his hand. He stared blankly at the 9x9 whiteboard in front of him. He uncapped the marker and wrote down Damian’s name. 

He’s funny sometimes, Jon thought to himself. When he’s not being mean. He decided to write that down. 

He’s really smart, too. Jon wrote that down as well. 

He wrote down a few more things, all jots, and he reminded himself of the paper he had written for school not long ago. He took out his backpack, his binder, carefully opened the rings and slid out his paper. He started skimming it. 

“ ‘If I had to describe Damian in one word, it would be dependable,’ Jeez,’ Jon whispered into the room. “What was going on in my head?” 

He kept reading. “ ‘No matter what, when the chips are down, he always takes care of me.’” Yeah, that part was true. 

He read the last part in his head. I know I can trust him no matter what kinda trouble we find ourselves in.

Jon capped the marker, he deleted everything he had written on the whiteboard. He didn’t need a list for all the things he liked about Damian. He knew already, Damian was his best friend, no questions needed. 

Jon had done and said things he wasn’t proud of. He for one, developed new habits, bad habits. He wanted to pin an excuse on them, that it wasn’t his fault that he had developed such habits. It was just his reaction to being put in situations like that. Example taken, Jon had started to talk to himself. He wasn’t exactly sure if it was a habit or a sign that he was going insane, but he didn’t like it altogether. Remembering it was torture, it was a habit he started in the volcano prison. 

Jon clearly remembers that the first time he talked to himself, to Damian. When exactly, he wasn’t sure, but Jon had a hard time getting used to the lack of things, in this case, a small daily occurrence he shared with Damian. 

Their shared habit started in their first sleepover, it had rooted from something they were watching on the TV. The woman on the screen was putting her kids to sleep, and she asked her youngest boy, “What was your favourite part of the day?”, to which the boy answered “spending time with you, mom.” 

Damian snorted. “Let’s  watch something else.”

Jon whipped his head around and looked at Damian. “Let’s pick a movie.” His eyes beamed, he was grinning. 

They had picked out a movie they never got tired of rewatching: Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kid. They had turned off the movie early, Alfred coming in and telling them to get ready to sleep. 

Each in their perspective beds, both had been quiet for a while, until Damian spoke up. He pitched his voice, and said, “What was your favourite part of the day?” Mimicking the woman. 

Jon snickered. “Spending time with you, Dami.” He pronounced the new nickname like ‘Day-me’, and heard Damian make a vomiting sound. 

“Don’t you dare call me that,” Damian sat up, and Jon did as well. “I will end you, Kent.”

Jon waved his hand, he could make out Damian’s expression even with the lights turned off. “Pfft, what about Dami?” He pronounced it like ‘D-ah-me’. 

Damian’s expression softened. “Mother used to call me that,” he said. “She wasn’t very fond of nicknames, but I guess she liked that one.”

Jon felt heat rising to his cheeks. He hadn’t meant to touch a sore subject. He knew there was a complicated relationship with Damian and his mom. “I think I’ll just stick with ‘D’.” he said quickly. 

Damian laid back down on his bed, he turned away from Jon. “No, it’s fine. Whatever helps you sleep at night, J.” 

Jon still sat on the bed, he arranged his pillow. “D?”

“Yeah?”

“‘Hukka’” 

Jon could have sworn Damian smiled, just a little. “‘Hukka’, Jon.”

It was embarrassing to sorts, Jon had to admit. Whispering ‘Hukka’ to himself at night, swearing that he could see Damian if he just squinted a little bit. Asking Damian how his day went, swearing that he could almost hear an answer, the things you did for lost best friends. 

Jon had also thought about Damian, yet in more ways than those. Sometimes he wondered if Damian still wore turtlenecks, if he had made any new friends. What if he had gotten a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend? Worse, what if Damian had found a new best friend? A new super-hero partner, someone that didn’t leak tears when they watched movies like Coraline. Someone more like Damian, like a… super-smart ninja assassin. 

When Jon finally spotted earth, a late teen, he started thinking about everything that could have been. Perhaps if Jon hadn’t left, him and Damian would have been having ice cream and maybe getting their own statue as the super sons. Maybe they’d have moved past the Super sons. 

Jon wondered where Damian was now. Maybe he was Batman, although Jon secretly wished that he wasn’t. He had always thought that Batman was cool, but it wasn’t really Damian. Batman was in a way, everything that Damian wasn’t. But if Damian wanted to be Batman, then Jon really didn’t see why not. Could Jon be the Superman to his Batman? Maybe? 

It took him as an overall surprise, realizing that only three weeks had passed. It made hope linger in his stomach, a fluttery feeling. Maybe he hadn’t missed so much after all. 

But Damian had stared at him like a stranger, like he used to stare at the boys at school. It made Jon’s heart stop beating, just for a few moments. He wanted to cry on Damian’s shoulder, even if Damian had only aged three weeks. Damian had rejected him, and that hurt more than Jon could have expected. Damian had collected himself, after a short time, and they spent the night together. Then, before Damian left, he hugged Jon, tightly. Maybe Damian was also feeling what Jon was. 

Maybe his letter proved that. Maybe the letter was Damian’s way of expressing everything that he felt for Jon. 

So Jon set out to find Damian, to ask him about the letter. To finally explain to him everything he wanted to say. 

[honeyandbloodpoetry]

Gender Thoughts Pt 1 and 2

The first time I put a binder on, a little under a week ago, I felt euphoric. Ever since I hit puberty very early on, I felt uncomfortable with my breasts. They never felt right on me, and even though I’ve come to love them sometimes, they still don’t always feel like they match up. I hated how people always looked at them, pointed out how much they showed in low cut shirts when I never even noticed they were--or even wanted them to. They were just there. I liked the way low cut shirts feel and look on me, I just can’t help these giant sacks of flesh that sit on my chest. 

Except...now I can! I ran my hands over my smooth chest, feeling bright. I looked into the mirror, and felt something warm wash over me. I put on my new masculine clothes, letting my partner clip on my new suspenders. I realized that I was shaking as I looked at myself again… I looked like a boy. I felt like a boy. Like a man. And I liked it. I wanted it. Admitting that to myself was like coming home. 

I remember being in sixth grade, walking around the track for my civil air patrol class. I had been slotted in with the rest of the girls, the boys walking ahead of us. I remember feeling uncomfortable being shoved in with only girls, and looking at the gaggle of boys ahead. The exact thought that whispered in my brain was “I wish I was a boy. I want to be like them, with them.” I never forgot that moment, and how strange it made me feel. How it was easier to shake that thought away, and dismiss those feelings. Except they never really left, did they? 

I remember sitting on my bed, crying with my best friend kneeling in front of me. I remember telling her how I didn’t like feeling like a woman all the time. That I wished I could be a black shadow, monstrous, androdynous. Specifically like Venom. She took my hand, did my makeup all in black and helped me pick out the perfect black outfit to achieve that dark, gothic look. I was so incredibly happy and validated. But I still felt like something was missing. 

I remember going into an Adam and Eve for laugh, not expecting much since I am an asexual with a low libido. I remember seeing packers and feeling my chest tighten. I never liked my genitalia--I had wished for a cloaca or something akin to that, but since that was biologically impossible for a human… I sometimes wished I had the opposite of a vagina. I frequently imagined what it would be like to have a penis. I frequently lamented the fact that I didn’t have one. I took the box up to the counter to ask some questions, my dress swishing as I went. The cashier told me it was for trans people only, and a girl like me couldn’t have it. She didn’t know what asexuality was, and had tried polyamory once but decided it was bad when her girlfriend kissed her boyfriend. I was upset, disheartened, and left the store empty handed feeling frustrated and lost.

I remember finally cutting the long, curly locks that had frustrated and imprisoned me for so long. Seeing all of my hair fall to the floor, staring into the mirror as the barber buzzed the back of my head… It made me want to cry tears of joy. It was the first time in my entire life that I had looked at my hair and was happy. The first time I could look in the mirror and feel like myself. Then I remember wanting to go shorter, and my barber encouraging me to keep it a little longer so I didn’t look manly, so I could still be soft and feminine. The way my stomach dropped and the sick feeling in my chest only increased when he began to make fun of the gay men who came down the street near his favorite restaurant. I never saw that barber again. I instead found a nice local place down the road from my apartment, where the kind lady cut it all off without question, other than “Why?” and accepted my warm “It makes me happy. It makes me feel beautiful.” 

But wearing that binder for the first time? It was as if a beam of light had funneled its way directly into my heart. I felt like a handsome man, with just a little bit of striking man boob, and it felt so right. My partner called me a dashing boy and my heart began to race. I still feel his hand tracing my jawline as he called me handsome, and the butterflies it sent up through my belly, even after more than eleven years. 

I love my partner--he identifies as agender and primarily masculine, and has been on the lookout for a good pair of size thirteen shoes to wear with a dress. They also wear joggers and flip flops and graphic tees and can’t seem to stop talking about the ocean and outer space. They’re probably one of my biggest inspirations for finding myself, and being authentically me. 

I’m not super sure who or what I am right now. I’m still figuring that out, but I’m pretty sure I’m somewhere between agender and genderfluid. I feel like me more than anything else, but all pronouns make me feel good. I feel like all of them and none of them at once, but I swing between wanting to be feminine and masculine pretty strongly, though I enjoy being masculine most of all--even when I’m wearing dresses and pink. I feel like a beautiful person in a dress or a button down, no matter what gender I feel like today or tomorrow. 

I am me. And I am one dashing boy, and one beautiful girl. 

4 July 2021

XXX

Since first writing this little essay, I’ve been doing a lot more examination of my gender. I have come to the conclusion that I am transmasc and nonbinary, and am shaky on the title of genderfluid. I am feeling less and less like a woman--if anything, occasionally adjacent to a woman rather than actually being one. I love feeling like and presenting as a man. I have my first appointment with a gender services doctor at my local community clinic for consultation on starting hrt testosterone. I am planning to start with low dose first, and see how I feel. 

I am still unsure of my exact identity, but I have found great euphoria with being and presenting as a man. I love being a man and everything that entails. I have loved myself like never before. Being with my partner is amazing, and he has been endlessly supportive--even recounting little things they had noticed throughout the years. One of the funniest being that I only ever referred to my body parts--my belly, hands, hair, genitalia--with masculine pronouns. I always seemed to see my body as male even if I had a certain sort of dissonance from it. 

Coming out has been difficult. I have had both positive and negative experiences from it. I have been told going on testosterone would be self harm, and that I can’t be something I’m not. I’ve had coworkers I trusted out me without my permission. But I have also had positive affirmation, polite questions, and discussions. I am terrified to tell my mother and her boyfriend--I have no idea how they will react and am terrified that I will be disrespected and disowned. 

But I am prepared to do whatever it takes to be my happiest and most authentic self. 

I have been binding a lot more often, wearing sports bras for long shifts at work, and occasionally going without either when I feel like letting my man boobs hang free. I’ve had the delightful experience of going to a men’s big and tall store and finally wearing pants. I grew up as a fat girl and felt as if I had to perform high femininity to be taken seriously and be treated well--and had been told by someone I trusted that I was too fat to wear pants, which I heavily internalized. So I had completely cast them away in favor of dresses and skirts, bows and gaudy jewelry. Realizing that I could wear pants was...totally wild. That I could be comfortable and look good in pants and shorts, and that it didn’t matter what people did or thought of me was life changing. Maybe I’ll feel like being feminine again someday, but right now this masculinity and masculine clothing, with perhaps the added spice of funky earrings, feels like home. 

I also grew up autistic and with PCOS, both which I think have affected my gender identity. Being autistic, I truly struggled to connect to others socially, and especially to understand societal norms. Being a proper woman felt like I was making up for everything else I was lacking--I may have been awkward, semi-verbal and weird with no friends, but at least I was cute and girlish. I never connected to womanhood though, and always felt out of place no matter how hard I tried. With PCOS, I had heightened testosterone, which meant wider breasts and shoulders, a lack of periods, and excessive body hair. I recall the endocrinologist asking high school age me if I had excessive body hair around my stomach, breasts, etc. and my mother jumping to say no I didn’t...even though I did. I remember suddenly feeling very self aware and ashamed of something completely natural, and even something I started to enjoy. I started shaving my entire body then. 

I even remember being in middle school, and thinking nothing of my hairy legs. In fact, I loved my body hair and how it felt. A rude girl began making fun of me though, tutting her tongue as she cooed, “Aw, does your mommy not let you shave?” Among other things, all throughout many years of severe bullying and abuse. I remember feeling ashamed, but not knowing why, and immediately shaving my legs, covering them in nicks from my shaky and unsteady hands, that same night. 

So many things set me back in my gender expression. So many things contributed to me willful ignorance and denial. I remember wanting to be butch, and everyone in my life laughing at me and saying I was too soft for that. That sweet, sharp ache in my chest. I remember going to a salad bar with my mother, wearing a button up and telling her I wanted to wear some more boyish clothes around that same time--I had already told her that I was bi sometime earlier. I remember her lip curling, looking uncomfortable, and telling me that I better not become one of those boy girls. My late father was very vocal in denouncing homosexuality and specifically men loving men--something which always sat horribly wrong with me on a deeper level. 

I think I might ending up being a trans man. I am still unsure and figuring myself out, but I struggle greatly with the autistic need for sameness vs. the trans need for change. My sapphic love of women has always been very important to me, and fully becoming a man rather than genderfluid is scary for that very reason. I am still navigating my identity and what it means to me and my reality--but no matter what, being a man, being masculine is integral to who I am. 

I was called a “sir” at a job interview for the first time the other day, and nearly began to bawl from sheer joy. The gender euphoria from that and so many moments is worth so much more to me than the years of suffering and ignorance and my ongoing struggles with dysphoria. I finally got a packer and have had help from my partner in learning to position it properly--I am thinking of cutting my hair even shorter. I have almost perfected a pretty basic tie tying skill. Okay, not really, but I’m getting there. I feel deep inside that even though my father loved me, he would not like who and what I am. Still, I wear the last watch he ever wore, and hope to be a good man like him--and to learn from the toxic parts of him to be an even better man. 

I am very excited to start hrt. I am terrified of hair loss and vaginal atrophy, but I look forward to so much more. I cannot wait for bottom growth and body hair, for the voice drop that will hopefully get me misgendered less. I have always felt disconnected from my voice and look forward to getting to know it better as it changes with me. I look forward to meeting with new facial hair. Working out and growing muscle. I just look forward to my second puberty and becoming more like myself. I look forward to navigating and exploring my gender even further, both with loved ones, support groups, and myself. 

More than anything, I am just happy to be me. 

25 August 2021

[whitherwhence]

Monstrous May Challenge, Day 6: The Lycanthrope 

Honey Bear

A werebear comes out of hibernation, the townsfolk welcome her back. Some clumsy flirting, and a little bit of soft manhandling (bearhandling?). wlw. 1428 words, somehow.

She always came down from the mountain just before mid-spring, after taking a few weeks or so to shake her winter sleep off her bones and bulk back up a little. You couldn’t miss her as she strode through town, she was tall and broad, brawny and thick as hell, friendly with literally everyone she passed, and her laugh could be heard from a block away.

Her name was Rebecca, or maybe it was Rhiannon, something with an R — but all anyone ever called her was Bear. An unoriginal nickname for a werebear, sure, but fitting. Everything about Bear seemed big; her voice, her appetite, her arms, oh god, her arms, and she took up SPACE wherever she went. She was the only one of her kind in this part of the country, and the humans of the small town she called home for most of the year were grateful for it. It wasn’t that they didn’t like her, she was very well loved and respected in the community. It’s that werebears could be a bit territorial, or so it was generally believed.

Madeline couldn’t wait to see her. This spring, she would make her move. She would! She was definitely going to do it. Whatever ‘it’ was. Ugh. How is anyone good at this? Alright. It’s cool, be cool. She would come up with something clever to say, and Bear would laugh, and then she would ask Bear to… hang out or something? Yeah. Probably. Super good plan. 

The unanimously favored queer club/tavern/bar was an absolute dive, nearly all of the bars downtown were, but it was the one everyone flocked to once winter had thawed because it had a big, comfortable patio space out back. It was also the one Bear frequented the most.

Madeline got a beer at the bar, and then made her way through the cool, dark, dingy, arcade-like interior, and through the back door to the shaded patio. Bear was on the deep bench built into the long back fence, and she was surrounded by a cluster of friends and neighbors, all chatting and laughing. It looked almost like she was holding court, if court was a group of townsfolk and a wooden table littered with half-full drinks, bar snacks, greeting cards, and small gifts — this was typical for the time of year, because everyone treated the first week of Bear’s return like it was her birthday.

“MADDIE!” a few would-be courtiers shouted out cheerfully, and someone conjured one of the well-used plastic chairs with battered metal legs for her to join them. She’d dressed carefully, it looked like everyone had, and it was so good to see them all showing off a little in the filtered afternoon sunlight.

After getting settled and saying hellos, Madeline dug her little gift out of her bag and set it on the table. “Hey, Bear,” she said, getting the woman’s attention, “I brought you something.” It was a jar of dark, rich, wildflower honey from her neighbor’s fall harvest. He always set aside a few jars for her, and this batch had been too good to keep to herself. She turned on her best wide-eyed, exaggeratedly innocent expression and aimed it at the werebear. “Bears do like honey, right?”

Thankfully, Bear laughed big and wonderful, and it sent blooming warmth from Madeline’s chest to her toes. “Well, this one does,” Bear said good-naturedly. She picked up the jar, tipped it, and watched the air bubble move down the side. She smiled at it and said, “Thanks, Maddie. Very kind of you, looks real good.” She looked back up at Madeline, and her smile softened into something really sweet. They just sat there for a moment, smiling and blinking softly at each other like a couple of goofballs. So, this was going well.

These springtime afternoons were always the nicest time to catch up with everyone. It was late enough in the day to get some good gossip, and too early for anyone to be out on the lash. The day slipped into golden early evening, Madeline switched to water, and the group filtered down to just a few friends. It got warm enough that she took off her leather jacket, and at some point Bear had rolled her sleeves up to the elbow. Those forearms. Madeline had to keep reminding herself not to sneak too many looks over at Bear, while she despaired over how to work up her courage to… what, ask her out? Seriously, why did it have to be so excruciating? But the thing was, as much as Bear caught her looking, she caught Bear looking back.

Okay, you know what? It was getting actually late now, and Madeline was starting to think maybe another day would be better. Bear had just gotten back, after all. They ran into each other all the time, no big deal. She’d just ask her all casual like, without all this build-up, yeah, that would be better, less pressure, good idea, okay, time to—

“Hey, Maddie,” Bear interrupted her spiral, thank fuck. “Help a gal out. It’s been months since I had a good look at you.” She leaned down, then grabbed one of Madeline’s chair legs and yanked, dragging it across the concrete a few feet. Suddenly they were very close, Madeline’s right knee and calf flush with Bear’s left. Bear inhaled deeply. “There, that’s better.”

“Whoa, haha,” Madeline uttered shakily. Had she just said ‘haha’ aloud? What the fuck. She blushed hard and tried harder to regain her composure. “Wait— did you just smell me?”

Bear laughed low and warm, and snuck an arm around Madeline’s shoulders. “Yeah, is that okay?” she asked, and then more seriously, “Is this okay?”

“Yeah. This is okay.” She meant it, obviously. This was amazing. Madeline was tall in her own right, or at least taller than most women she knew, but she felt tiny next to Bear. This was the closest they’d ever been to each other, and holy hell was it awesome.

“You smell nice, by the way,” Bear said, amused but sincere.

“Well, thanks? Must be my shampoo.”

Bear leaned in to get another sniff and pitched her voice down. “Mmm. Must be,” she rumbled directly into Madeline’s ear.

Because she was really going for it now, and because a hot butch woman was talking low into her ear, for fuck’s sake, Madeline shivered. But they were careening towards a cliche back and forth, and Madeline didn’t want to play. “So, this is the part where you say ‘You cold, baby? You’re trembling. How about you sit next to me here on the bench, and I’ll keep you warm.’ And I say ‘Oh thank you, Bear, you’re so big and strong’ for some reason and then I blink at you all coquettishly. Let’s skip it. Scoot over.”

There was literally no reason for Bear to scoot anywhere, as there was plenty of room next to her, but she did it anyway. “You don’t think I’m big and strong? You wound me, Maddie.”

Madeline snickered as she pressed her side into Bear’s, getting comfortable. “Of course I do, but you don’t need anyone to tell you.” Bear’s hand settled on her waist. It felt so good to be this close to her, to snuggle in her arms — well, one of her arms, rather.  

“You know— oh, dammit,” Maddie faltered and looked down at her hands to gather herself. It’s cool, this is fine. It is. Time to be brave. She looked back up at Bear. “You know. You gotta know that I like you, right? Because I do.”

Bear was looking at her softly, her eyes half-lidded and dreamy. “You do, huh?” Her hand slipped down to Madeline’s hip and she started to knead the sensitive flesh there. “That’s lucky, because I like you too. Have for a long while.”

“But I’m not fast,” Madeline blurted. Bear’s hand froze on her hip. “I don’t know if I can jump in with both feet right away, Bear. You gotta give me a little time.” She took a beat to slow herself down. She could do this. “But, um. Can I take you to dinner?” She prayed to whatever deity that she had this right, that this is how people fucking talk to each other.

Bear grinned delightedly as she slid her hand back to Madeline’s waist, and squeezed her in a reassuring half-hug. “That sounds good to me, honey,” she said. “Just tell me when.”

~~~

—————

HOW LONG IS A LONG WHILE, BEAR. TELL US. Whew, this one fought me! And then it kept getting longer! Why!!! I just wanted to write a big ol’ butch wlw werebear and write another wlw who wants to snuggle with her 😭  Do you ever feel like you know where a story starts and where it ends, but the rest of it has to be fuckin’ wrestled out of your brain? I’m pretty sure I know what was going on, which is good, like, at least in the long run. Ah well, the important thing is that it’s done and I can release it to the wild. Right? Haha right, guys? Anyway. The two challenge days I’ve done so far have been heavy on the anxious, obvious long-time crush, so, I reckon something different for the next few. ANYWAY. <3

[bre-meister]

Baby gates

Some cute fluff to start the new year off right ( Domestic Greens featuring Robin/Mike)

The Believes were very close with the Jojos (all three sets of them). Playdates between their children most often turned into the children playing in one room while whichever parents were present talked in another room.

Which, was how Robin and Mike Believe found themselves sitting in Buttercup and Butch Jojo’s kitchen sharing drinks as their boys played video games in the adjacent living room.

The conversation between them was pleasant and flowed easily. Occasionally a scream or enthused battle cry floated in from where the boys had situated themselves in front of the television - Buttercup always said that’s how they knew things were going well. With any child, especially Bruce Jojo, rambunctious noise was always welcome but silence never boded well.

Eventually, Buttercup’s attention was caught by a little figure making her way towards the oven, probably enticed by the sweet smell they were giving off.

“Butch!” she directed her husband’s attention towards their toddler.

He swooped in managing to pick her up right before her hand closed around the handle. Not for the first time, Buttercup found herself sighing in relief while wishing that their oven was a bit higher up like the one in her childhood home.

Robin also let out a breath she hadn’t been holding. It took her a moment to realize what had happened - her eyesight and general reflexes not being as fast as those of her superpowered friends. However, as soon as she saw Butch holding little Butterfly while standing near the stove well, it didn’t take the intellect of Blossom or Brick to put two and two together.

“What do you think you’re doing, baby girl?” Butch asked his daughter while playfully bouncing her on his hip.

Buttercup recognized it as a gimmick he used to easily direct their daughter’s attention away from something and on to him. She had to admit it came in handy too often with their curious girl.

Butterfly giggled, reaching out to pull on her dad’s hair.

“Dada” she giggled.

Butch blew a raspberry on her cheek as he carried her out of the kitchen, Butterfly’s cute baby squeals continuing to pervade the air as they went.

“That was close.” Mike interrupted the silence.

“Have you guys tried putting up some baby gates? They helped me and Mikey a lot with Noah when he started to get more mobile. And I know you said that Butterfly is a lot more adventurous than her brother was.”

Buttercup took a moment to consider how to respond to her friend’s suggestion. It was good advice, just not necessarily for a baby with superpowers.

“Well we used to have a few around the house - by the top of the stairs, the kitchen, ya know typical places babies shouldn’t be. Then Bruce broke two of them with his super strength. So the professor made us some super proof gates out of some special alloy or whatever that Bruce shouldn’t have been able to break.” Buttercup explained although her attention was mainly on trying to separate the sounds of Butch and her daughter than from those of Noah and Bruce.

“Shouldn’t have? Did he break them again?” Robin’s brow arched in confusion as she asked her question.

“No. He really couldn’t. And trust me, the boy tried. Unfortunately, he discovered he could just fly over them.” Butch said, returning from depositing Butterfly back on her play mat with some of her toys.

“Oh.” Mike’s tone reflected that of a normie who’d just realized that superpowers negated most of the effects of baby proofing.

Well, Buttercup had to admit that even as supers, she and her Chemical X powered family members had also been there at one point or another.

“Yeah. Little Bruce saw Butch float over one and decided that he wanted to be just like Daddy. So we kinda just gave up on them.” Buttercup’s tone was dripping with sarcasm and Butch didn’t miss the hard look that was sent his way.

“So,” she continued, still glaring at the man next to her, “we gave them to Bloss and Brick who have had a considerable more amount of success than we had with them. Maybe because Brick has a brain.” the last part was said quiet enough that only Butch would have been able to hear.

“Hey, I’ve apologized a hundred times! How was I supposed to know he would try to copy me?”

“I don’t know, maybe because he follows you around like a shadow?” Buttercup emphasized, “Especially at that point in time.”

All Butch could do was raise his hands in surrender and he pitifully offered,

“...I’m sorry?”

The apology was only met with silence.

“One hundred and one and still no success,” Butch mumbled under his breath.

“Try ice cream and chocolates, that’s what I do with Rob.” Mike leaned over closer to Buth as if he were sharing the secret to world peace.

“I did, that’s what lead to apology twenty five through thirty.”

“Oof, that bad huh?” He patted his green-eyed friend’s shoulder in support.

“Keep going Mike and you’ll have something to apologize for soon,” Robin interjected, arms coming up to fold across her chest. She was not amused.

“How about we stop by that’s Ice cream parlor you like downtown on our way home?”

“Hmm,” her tone said she wasn’t impressed but her body language conveyed the opposite.

Mike was in the clear...for now.

“Anyway, I still fail to see why we needed baby gates in the first place. Our kids are literally bulletproof! A tumble down the stairs isn’t gonna hurt ‘em! Hell, Boomer fell down a flight of stairs at least once a week when we were kids.” Butch steered the conversation back to him trying to defend himself.

“You want our kids to be like Boomer?” Buttercup deadpanned, turning in her chair to face her husband dead on.

Butch’s face screwed up in thought as he thought it over. After a few moments, he visibly deflated before admitting that Buttercup had a point.

“Touché” he ground out.

“I’m genuinely surprised you know what that means.” Mike teased. 

Buttercup and Robin chimed in with their agreement. Butch simply shrugged, seemingly over his earlier point being deflected. He carried on, ignoring his friend’s usual teasing.

“Hang around Brick long enough and you pick some things up.” was his simple response.

“Sure. Although, I suppose you do make a good point - I did get into a fair amount of...scuffles at a young age.”

The aptly names toughest fighter, sat back as she thought over several of her more brutal battles when she was merely the age of five. Bruises, cuts, and burns didn’t mean that much when the ‘X in her veins had them healed within minutes. Although, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try to keep her kids away from the pain that was still associated with those types of things.

“ And you certainly turned out well,” Butch reached out until he could touch Buttercup. 

Wrapping his hand around her wrist he pulled until she, a little reluctantly moved. Now that she was sitting in his lap as he wanted, he continued,

“The most beautiful ray of sunshine in the whole world and I’m lucky enough to call her mine.”

“Aww.” Robin’s reaction to the green’s antics was much sweeter than her husband’s barely constrained,

“Yuck.”

“Was that apology one o two?” Buttercup asked, trying and failing to contain her smile.

“Did it work?” Butch’s face was hopeful as he awaited his verdict.

“Hmm...I suppose you’re forgiven. Now, get your slimy, snail self off me ya big lug, we still have company,” Buttercup tried to get up but was held down in Butch’s grip for a bit longer.

“I haven’t gotten my ‘you’ve been forgiven but don’t do it again’ kiss yet.” 

Butch stuck his face up, comically nuzzling her cheek with his nose and making juvenile kissy noises. Buttercup laughed but still indulged her husband. Their lips met in a cute, chaste kiss that Butch would be the first to admit he’d wished lasted just a bit longer. But, he supposed that wasn’t something he wanted to start considering he was in no position to finish it - kids and company and all that.

“How many times has this kind of stuff happened that you have a name for it?” Mike inquired, a little confused.

“...too many” Buttercup supplied flatly, no longer trying to wiggle out of her husband’s arms and instead, settling in with her back to his chest.

Their friends didn’t seem to mind as they laughed. Eventually, Buttercup joined in. To anyone on the outside, Butch would have seemed annoyed as he mumbled incoherently as the three continued to laugh at his expense but those that truly knew him would have noticed the small smile as it inched up his face. A clear indication that he was enjoying himself, here amongst his friends even if he was the but of the joke. And for ruining a baby gate of all things!

Meh, he thought, they were annoying anyway. This is much more fun.

[the-mandalorian-clone-lover]

Aces in Spaces Chapter 18

*runs in* Mom’s on the phone so here ya go!

Warning for a little angst at the beginning but they work it out!!! Takes place after the last chapter

Also, warning for allusion to past trauma, nothing is strictly mentioned but I don't want to have it be an unexpected thing--

The song they sing is the Elephant Medley from Moulin Rouge!!

Tags: @sunshinepascal @rentskenobi @princessxkenobi @agent-450 @maybege @obaby-wan

Masterlist

It’s not that he insists that she follow any set course of behavior per se. It’s just that, well, if she was happy with their current situation together, it certainly wasn’t showing.

It’s not that he doesn’t understand, not at all, in fact he thought it might have moved a little too fast too, but its been two months since that first sleepover and instead of getting closer, more open, and being around more often; its like she’s further away than ever. The first few sleepovers had been about a week apart, always fun, not awkward even at the beginning and then, Roman wasn’t sure when exactly but, something had changed. She’d cancelled two in a row and that was ok, he understood being busy, understood having things to do, they were both adults but, then she started cancelling dates, almost like she was avoiding him. He’d tried to bring it up over a phone call, ask if she was ok but she seemed to get off in a hurry once he did. Everything seemed to be at the beginning of a spiral, creating a moment that Roman knew might be the one he looked at as the beginning of the end of everything if he didn’t play his cards right.

Which led him to where he was now. Prepping himself to call her and ask to meet somewhere for dinner, calm, casual, like he did at the beginning when she was still skittish around him.

She picks up after four rings, probably debating letting it go to voicemail his brain reminds him cruelly.

“Hello?”

She sounds, off. Not in immediate danger off, but not like her normal self either.

“Hello love.”

He pauses when she doesn’t respond, trying to steady himself, because somehow everything is coming down on him at this moment and it’s all cutting about as deep as the time she said she wanted to leave him, but he goes on.

“I, um” He fights off another wave of heartbreak because he’s trying to fix this, neither one of them has done anything drastic there’s no need to panic. Yet.

“I was wondering if you were free for dinner tonight? Maybe at the Italian place you like? The weather is supposed to be nice tonight and they have a, outside, balcony, thing.” He stutters out the last part, praying to whoever is listening that a) she doesn’t already hate him, and b) the nauseous feeling in his stomach goes away soon.

“That sounds nice.”

Her voice still sounds slightly strained but, she agreed, which is better than things had been going.

“Do you want me to send Butch for you?”

“No” Comes the hurried answer, “No, I can meet you there.”

Roman frowns quietly, to object to him was normal, a lot of people did but, Butcher and Erica had always gotten along. He thinks sometimes she trusted Butcher before she trusted him.

“Ok. Um. I love you?” He hadn’t meant for it to be a question. Damn it.

“I love you too” Comes the response before he can correct himself, voice tight but not in an angry way like she didn’t want to say it. It sounds sad, there’s a finality to it. That didn’t seem to add up.

“I’ll see you, around six then?” Questioning, hopeful.

A small huff that may have been a laugh if it had been allowed to grow comes from her end, “Six is good” her voice is still strained, almost as if, had she been crying?

“Ok. Love, I love you. Please don’t ever forget. I know—I know I haven’t said it as often but—”

“I know, Roman, I know.”

It isn’t meant to silence him, or if it is it does so gently. Gently enough he doesn’t really want to heed it.

“I know but—”

“Roman I have to get back to work, I’ll” her voice breaks slightly but she disguises it as an ‘um’ and he knows now that she’s been crying and he wants to help her. Reach out and cradle her to his chest and let her brush her fingers along the nape of his neck the way she loves, kiss the top of her head and dance with her in the living room like they used to.

“I’ll see you tonight. Bye” The ‘bye’ is barely above a whisper and he hears the click before he can even respond, heart shattering at the small sound.

He collapses into the chair, mouth resting against his knuckles to keep his own composure before moving to plant his forehead against it. Where had he gone wrong? Surely there were always ways he could be more accommodating, he thought he had been. He plants both elbows on the table now, holding his own head before gripping his hair and wishing he could rip it out. A sight that would be.

Some amount of time passes while he sits in agony and eventually he hears a tentative knock at the door.

He turns his head toward the sound but can’t remember who he’s expecting.

Erica. His brain suddenly supplies.

What if it’s her?

He nearly runs to the door, jerking it open, face wide in reception—

But its only Butch. He’s just as glad to see him, throwing himself into the other man who hasn’t quite recovered from the shock of the door being thrown open, let alone the (possibly crying) man who is now firmly wrapped around his torso.

Calling to mind the phone call he’d left him alone to make Butch wraps his arms around Roman.

“Tell me what happened?”

Roman nods, pulling away to walk back into the house and towards the living room, leaving Butch to shut the door.

“Did she break it off?” He calls through the hallway.

“No” Comes the meager response from the other room and Butch makes his way towards it, knowing Roman has more to say. “Probably will tonight. And this time I probably won’t be able to talk her out of it. I barely got in by the skin of my teeth last time and, and this time I don’t even know what I did!”

Butch doesn’t think he knew last time either but he takes a seat in the chair across from Roman and listens anyway.

Roman’s been pacing but he falls to the couch in a heap after all of two laps. “I don’t want to loose her Butch, not over something silly, or even something huge. What did I do that is so terrible she can’t even stomach looking at me?”

Butch leans back. “You didn’t—” He gestures vaguely downward, “did you?”

Roman looks confused then horrified. “OF Course Not! I wouldn’t dream of a thing like that!!! I’m not a monster! Not like the horrible people she’s known before, I’d never do something she didn’t want me to---”

He stops abruptly in his gesturing (and near shouting), blinking at the ground. A few moments pass. “She only told me about all that lately. Do you think she’s afraid?” It comes out in a whisper. As if he were afraid of the answer.

Butch regards him gently, leaning across the distance to hold out a hand. “Maybe it isn’t you she’s afraid of.” Roman takes his hand. “Maybe its just, puttin herself out there like that, knowin you know somethin really, y’know, personal about her.” He stops to take a deep breath before continuing softly. “Movin in together is a big step. I don’t blame anybody for gettin cold feet.”

Roman nods, swallowing hard. “She agreed to dinner” He manages hoarsely. “Six o’clock.”

Butch retrieves his hand to check his watch. “The Italian place?”

“yeah”

“Gives us an hour and a half to whip you in to shape. Allowing that you want to be 30 minutes early like you do when you’re nervous.”

“yeah.”

“Alright then.”

Somehow, Butch does it. Roman’s been at the table 15 minutes now and he hasn’t cried so it’s a win. They offer him wine but he declines. As much as he’d like to be drunk for a rejection, if Erica really isn’t afraid of him specifically, he might still have a chance, and he’d rather be sober for that.

He scans the restaurant and entryway every few minutes (seconds if he’s honest with himself) but he’s come up empty every time. He checks again anyway.

Short woman, strange looking man, that nice waiter that offered him mints, random teacher looking person, a tall and beautiful woman with very short hair, another waitress, hostess--- wait.

His eyes snap back to the tall woman who currently has her back to him, seemingly scanning the restaurant as well. He half stands, those shoulders, the curve of her neck—that looks like—

She turns.

“Erica” He gasps before managing to catch his own breath. He doesn’t think she managed to hear him over the background noise (that should be there but has completely faded since he saw her) but her eyes find his shortly after anyway. She’s, wonderful.

Erica looks around a moment longer before she thinks she hears someone gasp, she turns her head (it feels like she overdoes it, compensating for the hair that’s now missing, which is ridiculous because its hair but somehow, its true) to look for the disturbance only to find—Roman. Beautiful, Wonderful, Roman. Half out of his chair and looking like he’s seen a ghost. Great. So it really was that bad. It’s what she did it for she supposes, unable to suppress the hurt that flashes across her face before making her way to him. He fully unfolds himself, arms beginning to reach for her before they still at his side, and that hurts a little more.

“Is, is this why you were staying away?” He does lift a hand now, holding it about two inches from the side of her face—just like before. Like nothing had changed. Like she hadn’t changed.

She blinks at his hand, trying to swallow around the cotton that seems to have made it into her mouth, taking a breath before answering. “I um, I got it done a few days ago.”

“oh” Roman falters. She takes a shuddering breath (and all her strength) and lifts his hand up to her hair. His fingers barely graze her ear and she steps away from the contact, dropping his hand immediately, hating herself. She frowns at the floor, willing the tears away and hating. Why did she have to be this way? Why couldn’t she just be normal? Enjoy human contact like everyone else? Have a healthy relationship she wasn’t actively trying to destroy in an effort to punish herself? Roman’s stepped back when she opens her eyes again.

“I do like it. You wear it well. It—” he bites his lip “Frames your face nicely.” He smiles at her when she finally looks at him, and she looks over at the table before responding.

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

When she looks up again his mouth is slightly open. “Why would I--?”

The waitress walking up disrupts them both.

“Do you want to move to the patio now Mr. Stanton? I held the table if you’d still like it.”

Roman looks to the woman before looking back at Erica and raising his eyebrows in question. Erica barely holds his gaze before smiling at the woman. “Outside would be lovely.”

Roman’s heart breaks a little. He remembers when she used to use that word to describe him.

She pauses next to him for barely a second as she moves to follow the quickly retreating waitress and he offers his arm just before she steps away. He bites his tongue. She turns the slightest bit back toward him, reaching an arm to curl it around his and he steps forward hurriedly to allow it. He notices her eyes are glassy before they turn to admire the ceiling. She mumbles out a ‘thank you’.

He hesitantly places his hand over hers.

She moves her fingers just enough to tangle with his.

They make it to the table, its off to the side so they have some privacy but not far enough that Erica’s worried. It, well, if there’s a full moon and she magically transforms into someone who isn’t a coward, it has enough privacy she could tell Roman she does actually love him and she’s only been pushing him away because she’s scared. But that’s not very likely. Not unless there’s some kind of magic involved.

Roman reaches to pull a chair out for her. She lets him, sitting down slowly and catching his hand where it rests on the chair before he can walk away. Normally, he rests his hands on her shoulders after he does this. Sometimes leans down to give her a kiss of some kind before moving but today he’d begun to withdraw with nothing. She doesn’t know why she stops him but she looks up and her heart is in her throat.

“I thought—” his eyes search hers before he continues, “Sometimes you don’t like contact so I didn’t want to push”

Right. The halter top. Her shoulders are completely exposed. Now she wants to cry.

“Roman I—”

She squeezes her eyes shut and looks at the table. She promised herself she wouldn’t cry.

Romans excusing the waitress and kneeling down, hand never leaving hers.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

It’s so soft, so gentle and kind, steady but tender. Lenient in the sense she knows she doesn’t have to answer, but devoted in the sense that if she does he’ll listen. He’ll help.

She breaks. A sob that manages to be a gasp as she pulls him into her, uncaring of smudging makeup on his coat, uncaring of all the people around them that will undoubtedly worry, not caring about any of it. All she can think about is him, how much she loves him, wants him close, and how much that desire is outweighing the terrible fear that’s demanding she push him away.

He just holds her. Hand brushing along her lower back where she’s covered (God bless him) and then someone is gently laying a (blanket?) jacket across her shoulders. It feels enormous and she can’t begin to process so she just grips Roman tighter, trusting him.

Then she hears it. The soft rumble of Butcher’s ‘I’m the bodyguard and I’m in charge here’ voice and she realizes, it must be his. She relaxes a fraction. She stops the crying best she can, and reaches up to wipe under her eyes, mumbling out an apology that Roman quickly affirms there’s no need for. She’d pulled him up toward her otherwise they’d both be sitting on the floor, which, considering the setting probably wouldn’t be appropriate. Roman leans down to whisper to her tentatively.

“Do you want me to take you home?”

She nods, eyes watery. “Yes”

He nods back, already pulling away to spring into action before she grips his jacket again. “Our home”

He freezes before leaning down and squeezing her to him a little tighter. “Alright love, home for both of us”

Butch has already cleared the way and they leave with little fuss, Erica attempting an apologetic smile at the hostess but the woman doesn’t pay her any mind, Roman keeping her close to his chest. She slides into the car with him, immediately moving to slip off her shoes before cuddling herself into his side, turning toward him and laying her head on his chest.

Butch passes a box into the back seat before shutting the door and moving up front.

Roman reaches for it, putting his arm around her as he opens it, grabbing a fork and holding a bite out to her before she even processes what it is.

“Cake?”

“It’s the chocolate one you like, I thought it might help.”

She nuzzles his chest briefly, words leaving in favor of soaking up his comforting presence, then leans forward to take the offering. It is her favorite, after all.

She chews thoughtfully. She opens her mouth again and he reaches for the box without a second thought before her hand goes out to stop him.

“I, I need to tell you things, first.”

Her lip wobbles as he looks to her in confusion. Then his face clears and he smiles soothingly.

“I’ll listen as long as you need love.”

She nods. “I, I cut it because I wanted you to hate me.” She looks down at his shirt but plunges ahead. “I sometimes, I punish myself when things feel too nice and, and—” she looks up to his eyes “And you are nice Roman, wonderful and kind and so much more than I could ever deserve.” She gives a small fond smile as she watches him struggle between telling her how wrong she is about deserving things and staying quiet until she finishes. He settles on the latter, gesturing for her to continue with a nod.

“I, it all felt too good to be true all the sudden and, after I told you all those things, I thought you would” She looks down again, in shame this time. “Feel differently about me.”

He puts hand over hers where it rests on his chest, eyeing Butch in the mirror and communicating that they can drive awhile (at least he hopes that’s what he communicated). She starts again, but much quieter.

“I pushed you away because, I got scared. I thought you would, I don’t know, shun me, or try to fix me like they did and I just- I just reverted back to how I used to be. Cold. So I figured I would make it easier. For myself and you. If you hated my hair you could make it about that and it would be painless. Or if you made it about something else then I could pretend it was my hair whenever I wanted to cry about loosing you. Convince myself you were shallow and that’s why it didn’t work.”

Roman’s been quiet this whole time and she chances a look up at him.

“Do you like it?”

“Like… My hair?”

He nods.

“Well” It’s an abrupt change of subject but she takes it in stride, “I suppose so, I didn’t do it for that though.”

“Can I touch you? Your face?”

The rest of her is still shielded by the jacket but she concedes willfully with a nod. His knuckles brush her cheek slowly, before he checks again.

“Can I touch your hair?”

She nods.

His fingers, long and slender, brush through the cropped hair on the side of her head (carefully avoiding her ear) and his head tilts just slightly so his eye line can follow them. He tilts the other way then, eyeing the opposite side before his hand comes up to brush against the top hesitantly,

“Can I--?”

She hums.

His fingers sink into the tuft at the edge of her hairline, brushing back slowly, catching slightly on the product she’d used to muss it up. He increases the pressure the slightest bit so his hand brushes against her scalp with the motion and her eyelids flutter shut, pushing gently against the sensation and humming like a cat would purr. His hand continues its course, sliding down the back of her head and to her neck before he brings his knuckles to drag along her face again.

“I think its lovely.”

She opens her eyes to gaze at him and smiles softly. “I thought I’d need magic to get all that out but, it was easy. You made it easy.” She tilts her head at him, “I guess loving someone is like magic sometimes.” She says it with a far away look in her eyes as they drift to his chest, pondering her own words.

“All you need is love”

The smile crawls across her face even before her eyes meet his. “A girl has got to eat”

“All you need is love” This time it comes out a little slower, more like the song.

“Or she’ll end up on the street!” It’s said without any real belief

“All you need is, love” he hangs on to the last word, flitting his gaze over her face.

“Love is just a game”

“I was made for loving you baby, you were made for loving me” Roman adds the slight shimmy just for her and she laughs a little before answering.

Butch glances in the rearview mirror one last time before telling the driver to make for the penthouse and pulling out his phone. Hannah picks up after one ring.

“Yeah they’re singing, I think they’re gonna be ok.”

“Oh thank goodness.”

******************************

Erica's new haircut that I imagine--

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

The Intern (CliffxReader Pt. 2)

Pt. 1 :)

Requested by @perawuat​

@tealaquinn​

Let me know if you wanna be added to either the basterds or OUATIH taglist :)

You grinned widely as you reached for your diploma. You looked out into the crowd, your radiant smile reminiscent of a sunflower as you looked to the cameras and did a peace sign with your left hand as you raised your diploma with your right.

You finally graduated.

You had a big job in a hotshot Hollywood production to show for all your hard work.

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid...

You looked out at the crowd, spotting dozens of familiar faces.

You found your family among the sea of pride.

And by them, two empty seats.

Rick and Cliff couldn't make it. They were in Italy...

You sighed softly. It as a bittersweet moment. They were doing the best they could, you couldn’t be mad at them.

The next few days your family kept you fairly busy. They’d flown in from out of state. You didn’t mind the company. Especially since the summer felt a little empty without Rick and Cliff to deal with.

But as the summer wound down, so did your work.

You moved out of your old apartment, leaving Ziggy, Rowan, and Odie...

You moved into a high-rise apartment in west Hollywood.

It was your first time ever living completely alone. You had a place all to yourself, no brothers barging in or bathroom hogging sisters. No roomates.

And still...

....no Cliff and Rick...

Nothing....

You sighed, and muttered a despondent, “Groovy...” As you looked up at your new building.

You took a breath, and took the elevator to the fifteenth floor, and walked down the long hall to your apartment.

You stopped, seeing a bouquet of red roses at the doorstep. You wondered if it was from the apartments landlady... She seemed like an old fashioned person.

You picked up a card that came with it, expecting it to be complimentary.

But...you knew that writing.

You smiled a little, and sighed a little more cheerfully, "oh Cliff..."

You sighed, flopping onto the second hand couch from a garage sale that you’d hastily strewn in the middle of the empty living room.

Your living room.

You read the card.

Cliff apologized for missing your graduation and not being there to help with the boxes. He also added a million little things to make you blush.

You held the letter against your chest as you presided over the rows of brown boxes scattered around the room.

You smiled a little as you looked through the first box. The first thing you picked out was a framed picture of you and Cliff.

You smiled, knowing you'd finally made a life of your own, and that he was part of it.

And you knew you really had it together a few months later, when you were invited to a party. A big Hollywood party.

The movie you'd worked on had been nominated for a few Academy Awards, including for best cinematography...which you'd had a big hand in.

You met a few big names at the party, and a few familiar faces. The night was young, and you danced there with the stars and the writers that gave Hollywood it's lights. After a while you stepped aside to grab a drink. You looked at the scene, your new friends, and future.

Rick had been rigth all along... You were going to make it big.

As you took a sip of your drink, you overheard something behind a nearby table.

There were a few older and frankly snobby producers talking, and avoiding the younger crowd. They'd been talking about some projects they had been looking into.

The name Rick Dalton came up, and you raised your eyebrow in curiosity.

"Rick Dalton is an old, washed up chain smoking alcoholic has-been who's still waiting to happen!" The group of producers broke out laughing as he went on, "Won't be long till he drinks himself into a grave!"

Your blood boiled...

You'd been trying to get Rick to get help. You'd been making progress, until he had to go to Italy.

The producer went on, "Or worse. Lets himself go, gets a beer belly, and lets those pothead hippies melt his brain! And that pal of his, Cliff Boot."

One of the other producers corrected him. "Booth."

He nodded, "Booth. Killed his woman, didn't he? What's he still doing on sets? Bad luck. Don't want Dalton or that scumbag anywhere near me."

Another man stood between you and the circle of snobs. He smiled, "Say, aren't you that talented young lady what worked on that western?"

You nodded, "Yes, sir."

He smiled, "Say, O'Mara, this is the young lady that worked on Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid!"

The producer that had been ripping on Rick and Cliff turned around, with a wide, yellow, broken grin, reached his hand out to shake yours, but you stepped away in disgust, maybe hurting your relatively young and vulnerable career. 

But to you  it was worth every second seeing those snob's blood boiling.

"Don't get too cocky, O'Mara. You wrote Rick Dalton's first check, and then ripped him off when he got too big for you. Of course he's having a rough time, you all turned your backs on someone that made every single one of you a pretty goddamn penny, while he and Cliff are scratching and barely surviving. You should all be ashamed of yourselves, listening to that fucking rumor like a bunch of teenagers listening to Paul Anka. The man's a war hero, for crying out loud, and you're a fucking draft dodger. So no. Don't ask me to shake the hand of a man who turned his back on people he owes everything to."

Before things escalated, the man that had attemtped to introduce you to the producers stepped in, spoke fast, made them laugh, and ordererd drinks all around.

As the producers picked up gossip about other 'has beens,' the mystery man took you aside, "I like your work, and I like your spunk, you're a good kid."

You smiled a little, and he went on, "How about I let you in on a little secret, kid? All those old boys back there? Tearing apart actors because they’re jealous. And when they’re not with each other, they tear each other apart, because they all want this." He raised up a briefcase.

"What's that?" You laughed a little, seeing the quirky, odd character gripping the case as if it were worth the world..

He smiled, "Well, kid, this here's the next big thing in Hollywood what's gon' get somebody an Oscar, or an Academy Award round this time next year."

"So you're a writer?"

He nodded with glee, "Writer, director, as of now sole producer. But I still need my crew, and my stars. And kid, I seen the wonders you've done down at NBC and for that picture. So, once I get this show on the road, are you willing to get in on it?"

You could not have felt happier, "Absolutely!"

He smiled, "Well then, I need some stars, don't I? How about I talk to your friends about this, huh?"

"M-my friends?"

He nodded, "Mr. Dalton, and his stuntman, I hear they're a damn good team!"

You nodded, proud that some people still knew them as what they were, "That's right, sir."

He smiled, "I pictured Rick in this role. It's not exactly his regular western character, but, it's new, its fresh! It'll give him a new face, a new chance! I see him as...." He grinned, looking into the distance as he waved his hands, as if the name was appearing in front of you on a screen, "Hudson Murdock! International spy!" He sighed in satisfaction, "We’ll knock Bond out  of the water! And probably knock that guy, Cliff into the water!"

You both chuckled, and he asked, "Think they'll be interested?"

"I think so, sir."

He smiled, "Please, kid, call me Rudy!" He handed you a business card, and then a pen and a paper so you could write your number, Rick, and Cliff's down for him.

He took the paper after you were done, and hid it away safely with the script he guarded with his life, "Be in touch soon, will ya kid? They'll be home from Italy, soon I'll bet."

You nodded, "Yes, sir."

He titled his head, "Come on, kid."

You sighed and smiled a little, "Rudy."

He smiled, "Alright, that's better, kid." He gestured to the growing crowd of young party goers, "Go on, have fun before the real work starts!"

Despite the rocky moments with producers, and the inevitable burning of a bridge or two, you couldn't get over the fact that you'd just gotten Rick and Cliff a new big shot in Hollywood...

Still, the adrenaline and fun started to wash down the more the night went on. By the time you were home that night, you were a little more than just uneasy.

Cliff was supposed to call you and let you know he'd made it home safe with Rick.

You were sure they wre going to get blind drunk together, 'one last time,' thinking it was the end of the line...

Of course, they didnt' know about your development...and you'd let them have their fun for the night.

You could wait a million years for Cliff.

Or...you thought...

It just wasn't like him

Even in Italy, he called you every single night. Now that he was home, there was no excuse.

You spent the next half hours or so debating and reasoning with yourself....

Maybe they knocked out because of jet lag? Maybe they were drunk because they drank on the plane? Maybe the phones weren't working? Maybe he went straight to get Brandy? Maybe he wasn on his way to yours?

The possibilities were endless....

Still, there was that constant, nagging, feeling wringing your heart...

Ringing...

The phone was rining.

On the third ring, you picked up.

It was Rick.

You glanced up at the clock.

12:55 AM...

Your eyes went wide as Rick quickly and calmly tried to explain every thing that happened in the last half hour without giving you a panic attack.

12:56 AM...

"HE WHAT?!"

Rick replied, "H-he's o-k, don't w-worry! He-"

"He got stabbed! And-"

"He-He'll be ok, Y/n, everything's fine!"

"And you? Are you ok?!"

He chuckled a little out of tension, but mostly because he just missed hearing from a friend like you, "I'm uh...I'm actually at the neighbor's right now. Everything's ok, Y/n, don’t worry."

"The Polanski's?" You felt a little ease in your shoulders, knowing Rick finally got what he'd been wishing for for months.

"Yeah..." You could practically hear the smile, "But I'll meet you and Cliff bright and early tomorrow. We're ok, honey, don't worry. Get some sleep, he's ok."

"Ok..."

Rick sighed, knowing you better than you gave him credit for, "Oh, and Y/n?"

"Yeah, Rick?" You held the phone between your shoulder and your cheek as you reached between the couch cushions for your car keys.

Rick chuckled, "Drive safe."

You smiled a little and shook your head once.

You practically raced to the hospital, giving Cliff and every other stunt  double in Hollywood a run for their moeny.

Your heart skipped a beat, stopped, and broke al at once when you saw Cliff again... After six months...t felt like a lifetime,

And it felt like even longer seeing him like that.

You knew he was going to be alright. Rick told you so. The doctors told you. The nurses told you...

But you didn't believe it until you saw him for yourself.

"Cliff..."

He looked up at you, clearly tired. Of course, the acid, the fight, the stabbing, and the morphine were behind that. Still, he shifted trying to get up to get to you.

"No, no, stay down, it's ok..." You sat by him, rested your hands in his and smiled softly.

To him you were nothing less than an angel...

Especially with the drugs (legal and illegal) and the bright white hospital lights behind you. "Y/n....you...you came? Told Rick to tell ya to get some sleep I-"

"That's crazy talk."

He took your hand and pulled it up slowly to his lips, and kissed your hand softly. He looked up with soft eyes, "I'm sorry, baby...I should've gone home, should've gone to see ya..."

You shook your head, "If you had, there's no telling what would've happened...Best not to think of that, not now."

"I'm sorry I missed it."

You shook your head, and rested your hadn against hisncheek, "Best is yet to come, Cliff." You smiled cheekily.... you'd tell him about the party the next day.

Until then... You gave him  a kiss, and said, "Get some rest, Cliff."

"Only if you do, baby..."

You nodded, "I will, I will."

He chuckled a little, through the meds and drugs, and mumbled and hummed "Dream a little dream of me..." as he fell asleep, holding onto you desparately.

Somewhere deep in his mind, he was scared you were a hallucination...He wanted to hold you enar and dear. He wished Italy and that night never happened. He wanted nothing more than to be by your side.

When you woke  up, it was nearly noon, and the sunlight was streaming through the blinds. You'd fallen asleep on the chair by Cliff's bed, with your head against his chest. His arm was around you still. And you could hear the warm hum of his voice through his chest as you woke up slowly.

You could hear Rick too.

"Goddamn, Y/n and Francesca are gonna get along, they sleep like logs."

You smiled a little as you stood up to hug Rick.

He smiled at you, and shook his head, "You wanna tell me how the hell you managed to save me and Cliff's careers in one night?"

You shrugged, and playfully "Hey, when you got it, you got it."

Cliff guffawed, but then immediately held his wound, "Shit, Y/n, you oughta be the one carryin' Rick's load then!"

You rolled you reyes with a cheaky smile and sighed, "Anyone would've done the same."

Rick sighed, "Oh, honey, you don't know Hollywood just yet."

Cliff said, "What we're tryna say baby is thank you."

"Ah, it's nothing." "You got us some work!" Cliff looked at Rick, and they were both relieved, knowing it wasn't quite the end of the line. "We knew you'd make it far..." Rick saw the way Cliff smiled and looked at you. It was all clearer now that Cliff wasn't wearing sunglasses. Rick smirked a little, as he chuckled, "I'll go ahead an' leave you two alone for a while." You covered your face as your rubbed your eyes, "Oh, come on Rick!" Cliff chuckled, "I wIsH!" You looked to Cliff, "Cliff!" He laughed a little as he reached out for you. You heard Rick closing the door as he left. You sat by Cliff again, and he kissed you. "Told you everything would be ok, kid." "Yeah?" "Yeah..." He nodded. "Rick was right. You made it. You're not just an intern anymore...and me and Rick are gonna be ok, and you n me are more than ok." You smirked a little, looking down a tthe ground for a moment, then back at Cliff, "Yeah, we are..." He rested his hands on the sides of your face, his thumbs pressed against your cheek. It wasn't something he did often, but you weren't complaining. Because in that moment, everything mattered. The past six months had been hell, and the past night was a nightmarish trip. His blue eyes were wide open then. Everything realy was ok... And you could see that in his eyes: The hope and love the 'washed up' stuntman hadn't felt in a decade or two. And he owed it all to you, the intern.

[polygamyff]

53.

Robyn smiled at me “what?” she said “I want to see the dress” I pointed, Robyn is starting to pack things for Cali and I have seen about three suitcases now, but now the most important thing has come out “no, shut up. It needs resizing. I am taking it incase, I love the dress, but you can’t see it so stop it. And please do not try and look at it behind my back” she hung it up, it’s covered so I can’t see it “so you all packed or you got more?” I am confused on what she actually takes with her “erm, that is Reign’ suitcase, that is mine and that is yours! You do that yourself, thanks” pulling a face “I won’t need a case, I buy things on the go so there” Robyn huffed out and walked off “you know what Maurice, I will pack for you” that is what I wanted to happen in the first place, I wanted Robyn to do it for me. I stifled out a yawn while rubbing my eye, I have just woke up to Robyn doing this, it’s nerve wracking. I have a lot to happen to me while there, Ally is flying out with us. Robyn actually said she is invited to come, obviously she is with Jay so why not “Reign is crying, or did your mind just shut off?” looking over at Robyn “you know when you put on your bonnet, you act out. I swear” I must have started to daydream because I didn’t hear Reign crying “go and get her for me, and before you go and see Malik feed her for me please. I just need to tidy some things. Thank you” pushing the covers “sure, I wanted to ask. What did you get daddy for his birthday?” getting out of bed “what dad?” fixing my dick in my boxers “me, I am your daddy. I want to know what you got me” turning around as I stretched out “nothing” she shrugged “you know we got a gym here? Why don’t you start bulking up” I laughed, I had to laugh “I could also say the same about you but the other way around, you need to you know” eyeing her up “what exactly Maurice?” let me stay here, less likely she can get my ass unless she jumps on the bed and attacks me “your stomach looks stuffed” Robyn crossed her arms across her chest “keep going” shaking my head “Reign is crying” I pointed, Robyn is going to kill me “go then” she pointed, slowly walking around the bed “you’re not worth it skinny, go!” she waved me off, I chuckled and then let out a little scream catching Robyn grab the glass of water from the side. I jumped moving as she threw the water at me.

Robyn got me screaming like a girl, pressing my ear to the door. Reign is so loud, she is cussing in her little language and then crying. Opening the door, pushing it open. The room went ever so silent, not a sound but I can hear her moving “Reign?” I said “dada!!” I can’t, I can’t keep playing around “my love!! Look who it is” Reign is stood up in the crib and her little face smiling at me “superman came to save you” making my way to the crib “crazy hair! What happened?” Reign lifted her arms up at me, touching her hair “crazy” picking her out of the crib “I love you baby” picking bubzy out of the crib “I need to feed you, what we feeling? Some eggs? You want daddy to make some eggs for you, with some delicious fruit, we going to be healthy” the best thing in life is hugs and love from my daughter “your mom is not happy with me Reign” making my way out of the bedroom, Reign looked up at me “yes, she is not happy. She called me skinny, so I called her fat, I mean she is not fat at all. I was joking, but I know she is upset with me. Women are sensitive” I love that Reign listens to me, she just takes it all in and agrees with me in everything “dada did bad?” I asked, Reign shook her head “good, this is why you are my daughter” I chuckled.

“Reign you are my protection from your mother, she may attack me” walking into the bedroom “Bonita?” I said “just call me butch, don’t call me that” I couldn’t help myself, I ended up laughing “Robyn, you called me skinny. It’s a joke, please let’s stop this silly behaviour. I have fed, cleaned and dressed the princess, she just needs to play now. But Robyn, I am sorry if I offended you but you are not fat, it was a joke” Robyn just side eyed me “you are just thick” putting my arm around Robyn “be quiet, stop being so annoying” pressing a kiss to the top of Robyn’ head “I love you, but I need to go now. My driver will be here any minute now, I will be good promise” placing Reign on the ground “good, give Malik my love. Tell him that we can’t wait for him to come out and we can get back to normal” I thought Reign would have walked off but she didn’t, she walked straight into Robyn’ legs “awww you want some snuggles” Robyn picked Reign “she wanted you, ok I will be back” pecking Robyn’ lips before I pressed a kiss to Reign’ forehead “oh and my mom said she is prepared, she is excited we are staying there” I cooed out “she misses us having sex constantly, I joke. I miss my mother in law. Call me if you need me” I better go.

Watching Nalah get into the SUV “afternoon Maurice” Nalah said “what’s good? We all happy now? Positivity now” Nalah laughed shaking her head “every time I kept texting you in anger all you kept texting me was positivity, Robyn is good for you but. We ready for Malik? He did call me and said you are coming; I go of course we are. I am on the fence in regards to telling him, I am not sure or maybe I don’t want to say it to him, it’s hurtful” rubbing my chin nodding my head “but I was thinking, he is in rehab. The best place he can be, so if he was to want drugs or want to act out he can’t? He will have the support there, I think I am going to say it to him so he can heal while he is there, so when he comes out he will have us there. I will support Malik as long as he supports me and is good to me, but I don’t see him fucking up again, do you?” Nalah shook her head “he has learnt, he said actually. Hugging his brother again was a good feeling even though Maurice didn’t want a hug, he knows he has done wrong, he always mentions how good Robyn has been to him and he let her down, we will see what he is like when we go back” I hope he is still in a good place, places like that your moods can change very quickly.

The hate I have for these places runs deep but here I am for Malik “how has he been?” I asked the worker walking us, it’s not the same person we saw last time “he is ok, he wanted to shave his hair again, so he is bald again. We told him that we liked the hair, nope. He said shave all bald, but he is in a good mood” shaving your hair is a sense of cleansing yourself, I did that. It feels good, I guess he still feel he has those issues “we are changing rooms, it will be in the hall” nodding my head walking behind Nalah, it is a nice place here but I expect it with the price tag that comes along with it “here” she pointed at the room “thank you” Nalah opened the door “oh my, look at this, Malik?” Nalah said as she walked into the room, walking in behind her “what?” I said laughing, seeing the balloons and the sign “Happy Birthday? For me?” I pointed laughing “yeah, I remember your birthday. I ain’t going to be there so I thought I get you cake here” that is so sweet “for real? Wow, that is very thoughtful Malik” Malik came at me first, he hugged me “you all emotional and shit, this is nice. Thank you so much, I love it” hugging him “I didn’t leave, the nurse got it for me. Nalah gave me money for it” I cooed out “it doesn’t matter how, you did it. I love it, I really do. Thank you” patting his back, this is so sweet that he did that “where is my hug?” Nalah said “oh yeah, I want to show Maurice the cake” I am taken a back “ok, go on then. Hug me after” I can’t stop smiling at all “didn’t want to ruin the surprise for you, he wanted to do this” Nalah said “I am impressed” I said “I don’t remember this moment but it’s got us on there” looking down at the cake “the Dubai opening, nice crop game. I love it, is that who means the most to you?” I pointed, the picture is us on the opening “yes” patting his back “I like it, we will have some cake. Come” I find this so sweet; I am actually very impressed he thought of me “I don’t have no gift for you, I am sorry but I will make it up to you” walking behind him “my gift is Malik doing good, my gift is you being you. The person I knew, this is enough for me” I didn’t expect this at all “take some for Robyn?” Malik said “of course I will, Reign will love some cake. I want to eat Robyn’ face please” I pointed; I will always eat Robyn.

Staring at the party hat “like who’s idea was this?” looking at Nalah, I know she probably said get this shit “not me, just put it on” what on earth are these two on with this shit, putting the party hat on “so we doing it all then? Even the happy birthday?” watching Nalah hold the cake as both of them sang happy birthday, I can’t help but laugh “one candle huh” Nalah stood in front of me with the cake “happy birthday dear Maurice, happy birthday to you!!” Malik shouted, I cooed out “thank you” closing my eyes before blowing the candle out “wow, Malik. I am shocked, I want Robyn’ face” getting up from the chair “I know I am going to miss it so, this will be fun” hugging Malik “and I appreciate it, it has really made me happy. Small things in life” looking behind me before sitting back down “I wanted to get a gift for you but I can’t leave so you know, I promise I will get you one” shaking my head “why do I need anything? I have everything I need, my siblings, this! This is what I want. You know I have been on a journey, you have too and you will prosper” I know he can “you think I can find myself a Robyn too? She has made you so happy, I want that” I chucked “bro, you can. I am sure you can” that is a compliment to me with finding such a perfect woman, Robyn is unique, and I love her.

Wiping my mouth with the napkin “that is a nice ass cake” I said which Malik laughed “I said to Nalah, it’s too cheap for him but glad you like it. Take some for Robyn though, thank you for coming. Nalah said you are busy but you came” placing the napkin on the table “I am, you know I am getting married while I am in Cali so I have a lot on my mind, you won’t be there of course but I will somehow send you pictures, I will tell your carer while here. Hand on my heart, I am sad you can’t be there because I am happy this time but I will send you pictures” Malik put his head down “I did this to myself, I fucked you over and you’re here for me, I went with your ex. I don’t deserve this at all” I sighed out wishing he didn’t think on it “bro, she fed you drugs and used you like every one in your life has. Don’t you think? In your life Malik, who has been the one there for you? Cared for you, you have done so much for attention, you wanted someone to give you some attention but yet nobody was giving it and you was destroying your life. I don’t want you to think of the past, we are looking forward right?” Malik nodded his head “future but I feel bad” he mumbled “and I have forgiven you, ok?” I said, I want him to move on.

Nalah and I just stared at each other, I know she doesn’t want to say a word, but I think it will be right time is now “how are you feeling mentally? Do you feel you are ready to see the outside world? Oh, and Nalah is pregnant” I added quickly “you just added that like it was seasoning! My god Maurice, yes Malik. I am pregnant” I grinned “really? Oh wow, you’re having a baby. Dad allowed that to happen” Malik said which made me laugh “he ain’t my damn uterus Malik, but I am pregnant, and I am ever so happy. I can’t wait for the baby to meet it’s uncles” playing with my earlobe, I am feeling a little nervous to say this myself “with Nalah pregnant, you come out you will be living with Nalah. Helping her with the baby, the father is a dickhead” I rolled my eyes “I thought you were with Shawn?” Malik knows “well my friend doesn’t do well with babies, he has ran off. So, we need Uncle Malik to take care of Nalah and the baby but erm. Malik, I have something I need to tell you. This is hard on me to say it to you but I want you to know that no matter what, Nalah and I love you so much and we all will prosper together, I feel like here is the best time to tell you, I know how it feels to be here, it is a time to heal so I have chosen to tell you now. But this is hard to tell you because it does break my heart for you, Nalah doesn’t agree but when has she ever agreed to things at times, but I want you to listen to me when I say I got you in this” Malik looks a little scared now “we going to be grown adults yeah, because at the end of the day we always had each other no matter how much our parents played us off of each other and I just want you to understand that, our parents never had us, none of us and Joy is a trash person but I need you to let me look after you” Malik just stared at me “what is it?” I am talking too much.

Rubbing my hands together “I found something out while I was in Spain, probably something I wish I never knew but I do. But this makes me, us move on. I was always confused on why I had to come back to Texas, I was happy in Spain. Well it’s no secret dad had married Paula, mom found out and so things escalated, mom did something that made you arrive. She uhm cheated on dad with his brother and dad came back to Texas wanting to kill Abel-” Nalah cut me off “what it is Malik, the reason why dad is so horrible to you is that Abel is your real dad, this is why for years dad never bothered with you, this is a family secret, mom was going to tell us when dad died but Maurice found out” Malik looks like a deer caught in headlights “huh, no. What you mean? That is a lie?” he laughed “I am not lying, I am sorry, but you are my brother. I just needed you-” Malik got up from the chair “I can’t do it, I can’t” he walked off “Malik, I would never lie to you. Dad treated you like shit for that reason!” I shouted; I don’t want him to storm off like this. Nalah shook her head at me “why me!” he shouted aloud “why me!?” Malik punched the wall “why!” another punch “me!” getting up from the chair “Malik” the door opened, two of the workers rushed in “calm down, what is it?” the lady asked “you’re going to have to sedate me, inject me” Malik said laughing “you’re going to have to sedate me, I will make your life hell if you don’t” I feel helpless right now “Malik” he pushed the worker, the guy barely moved “right, meet time is over” he dragged Malik out “don’t hurt him, look. Don’t sedate him” I rushed around the table “Mr Davenport, please stay in this room while we put him in his room” the lady said “you need to understand he just found out his dad is not his actual dad, he just needs time. Don’t sedate him” I don’t want that.

It’s weighing heavy on my mind; I feel bad but then I also know he is in that place and hasn’t ran off to be stupid. I got this cake with me; I feel like shit. Placing the cake on the coffee table “how did it go? What is this?” Robyn asked “Malik celebrated my birthday, he bought me cake” I said feeling so defeated “awww really? That is so cute” Robyn shuffled from the couch to look “where is my face!?” she questioned “in my stomach, I ate it” sitting next to Robyn “you are so ugly for that so how did it go? Not well? You look sad” rubbing my chin “it went well, everything was ok. He was happy to see us; he did that for me which honestly made me happy. He was smiling a lot too, wore a stupid party hat. Then I told him the truth about dad, and he didn’t take it well, I ruined his world. I know I did; he holds so much anger, punching the wall shouting why me. Then he told the workers to sedate him. I just think the best place was there, out here he could go to drugs, did I do bad?” looking over at Robyn “that is sad but no matter how you said it to him, it would have been hard but at that place would be best for you to tell and also his safety, that is so sad. I am sorry” Robyn placed her head on my shoulder, I hope he is ok.

[yellowmagicalgirl]

A Faux it Was (She Shook Afraid)

So, over a year later, I found my submission for Day 7: Woods/Water for @talesofarcadiafemslashweek​ in my drafts.

Title is vaguely from Hozier’s “In the Woods Somewhere” before I changed the lyrics to make a pun.

This takes place in an earlier version of my Determinant AU from back when Jim (known as Jennifer “Jen” Lake in this universe because this entire AU is based off a very sapphic dream I had) was still the Trollhunter instead of Darci. In addition, Claire was kidnapped by Morgana as a child and goes by the name Fontaine de Morgan (yes this is a reference to the OG book).

Warning: contains body horror and discussion of mercy-killing (no one dies).

AO3

FFN

Jen walked her bike through the woods near her house. While riding was faster, she was already sore from training and didn’t want to fall in the dark. Besides, something felt off tonight. She ran her hand through her short hair before making a fist and twirling the ends through her fingers; it was a nervous habit she had picked up back when she had realized she was butch and had cut her hair down to a pixie cut. She heard a pained scream, and she took off running as she summoned her armor.

She found her classmate curled into an awkward half-fetal position. Fontaine had a stab wound where her shoulder met her chest. She looked up towards Jen. Her brown eyes were filled with fear. She squeezed them shut and turned her head to expose her neck.

“Just do it fast,” Fontaine said with a tone of finality and helplessness. It took a moment for Jen to realize what the other girl was talking about.

“What? No! I’m not going to kill you,” Jen said. She dismissed her armor to prove it, leaned her bike against a tree, and then knelt down next to her. Fontaine opened her eyes.

“Why?” she asked. “Let’s face it, I’ve double-crossed you before.” She moved her injured shoulder about a centimeter and gasped in pain. Tears formed in her brown eyes, and she barely made an effort to blink them away.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to make a habit of kicking people while they’re down, and the fact that you want me to mercy-kill you means that you’re in really bad shape and likely not to try and fireball my face off. What’s your parents’ number?”

Somehow Fontaine looked even more crestfallen. “I don’t have... no, that isn’t true. I don’t know who they are. That’s probably the reason why this happened.”

“Who would try stabbing you for something like that?” In addition to outrage, Jen couldn’t help but be worried. Was there someone trying to hurt people for being orphans or something? If so, then Toby could be in danger.

“Angor Rot.”

“Isn’t he supposed to be working with you? I’m gonna try to get to get you on your feet, sorry if it hurts.”

Fontaine gasped as she was lifted, but to her credit once she started to unfold her legs she was able to push herself into a standing position. A hunched-over standing position, and she leaned on Jen heavily, but it was still standing.

“I’m not sure if I’ll be able to really walk,” Fontaine said. Her voice was strained, and unusually soft.

Jen carefully took Fontaine’s hand, and with her other arm she grabbed her bike and dragged it over to the two of them.

“Would you rather sit behind me or in front of me? Also, can you conjure a fireball or anything, for light?”

“Behind, you know I have a back injury.” Jen bit her lip slightly. She had exploited the fact that Fontaine had a bad back before, if only to keep the spellcaster from hurting her and Toby. Now that she thought about it, they hadn’t fought Fontaine much since the play and Killahead.

“You also have a stab wound on the front side of you so it’s kind of a moot point.” Jen climbed on the bike in front of Fontaine; Fontaine reached around her to grip one of the handles. When she released the handle, it glowed with a slightly flickering purple light.

“Thanks,” Jen said, glancing behind herself. Fontaine was looking a little pale. “I’m going to take you to my house, unless you would rather go to the hospital? I don’t know if my mom’s home or not.”

“No hospital.” Fontaine snaked her arms around Jen��s torso and held on tightly as Jen peddled. Jen was glad Fontaine couldn’t see her face, because a blush was creeping onto Jen’s face. She had had a crush on Fontaine before Fontaine had revealed that she was working with the changelings, and maybe it hadn’t fully gone away.

Jen’s mom wasn’t home. There was a note stuck to the inside of the door, saying that she needed to cover a shift at the hospital. Well, at least Jen could avoid telling her mom the truth about trolls and magic for at least a little while longer. Jen knew enough about first aid and patching herself and Toby up after fights that she could hopefully fix Fontaine’s stab wound.

“Can you make it up the stairs?” Jen asked. “If not, I can bring the bandages and stuff down from where I’ve been keeping them.”

She had been keeping a second kit away from where her mom would find it, if only so that Jen could keep her from worrying and finding out the truth.

“I, I can,” Fontaine said, voice wavering. She was leaning very heavily on Jen; Jen was glad they were similar heights.

“So, um, you mentioned that Angor stabbed you because you don’t know who your parents are?”

“I was told I was abandoned at the mouth of the cave I grew up in,” Fontaine said. Her voice was slurred. “That’s what my Lady told me, and why would I disbelieve her?”

It was hard for Jen to tell if that last part was genuinely sarcastic or just sounded that way because Fontaine was in pain. Jen guided Fontaine towards her room.

“Except,” Fontaine continued, “when she sent me to Arcadia, to stop you, I started to remember being eight and younger and living in Arcadia, and the cave was in Bulgaria, and that didn’t make sense.” The last word was hissed in pain.

Jen sat Fontaine down on her bed. When Jen finished getting the first aid kit from under her bed, Fontaine had collapsed into a fetal position. Jen pressed her lips together.

“Okay, I’m going to need to take your shirt off so I can clean the wound. Are you allergic to any pain medications?”

“Never, well, haven’t had any since I was eight.”

Jen gave Fontaine the pills and her half-full water bottle, and then helped Fontaine take her shirt off.

The stab wound had scabbed over, but the veins around it had turned an inky black and glowed with an eldritch purple light.

“Uh, has this ever happened to you before?” Jen asked as she covered her hands in sanitizer. She knew it would be better if she washed her hands, but she also felt uneasy about leaving Fontaine alone.

“It’s dark magic,” Fontaine said. “But, I’ve never gotten cracks from a wound before.”

“This is gonna sting but it’s supposed to,” Jen said, pouring disinfectant onto a cotton ball. She leaned in as she pressed it to Fontaine’s wound, partially due to the way Fontaine hugged Jen and hissed at the pain. Jen’s eyes widened as she was able to glance at Fontaine’s back. “Hey, Fontaine? I know you have a bad back, but does it normally glow and cracks the way your wound is?”

“What?”

Jen pulled out her phone and took a picture before showing it to Fontaine.

“That’s not -” Fontaine whimpered - “normal.”

“Okay. Is it okay if I touch it? I don’t want to use the wrong bandage and hurt you further.” Fontaine nodded, but then screamed as Jen touched one of the two raised lines along her back.

“Too much pressure!” Fontaine didn’t stop hugging Jen, though.

“Sorry, sorry, I barely touched you but sorry.” Jen pulled away slightly to grab an adhesive bandage and stick it over the stab wound.

“I didn’t think she’d be so, mad, at me,” Fontaine said softly, eyes downcast. “I thought she’d be okay with me trying to find my parents. Let me choose if I wanted to spare them from the Eternal Night. I mean, I wouldn’t be able to save everyone I cared about, but... I thought she wouldn’t take it as a betrayal.”

“Are you still loyal to her?”

Fontaine’s shoulders raised defensively, and she hissed in pain at the movement. “She betrayed me first. I guess I should’ve known. I mean, she has so many names, and it was only because of you that I got to have one.” Fontaine’s face scrunched, and Jen couldn’t tell if it was in pain or in anger. “Then again, she also stole my first name from me, just like she must’ve had her changelings steal me from my parents.”

After a few minutes, Jen pulled away. “My mom won’t be home until tomorrow afternoon, so you can take my bed. I’ll take the floor, feel free to wake me if you need anything.”

Jen awoke several hours later to the sound of pained sobs. She sat up, and gasped at the sight of Fontaine. Inky veins surrounded her eyes, which had changed to purple and black. Fontaine’s ears were bloody, and the tops of the skin had peeled back to reveal raw flesh and pointed tips. The worst of it was her back, though.

Fontaine had borrowed a set of Jen’s pajamas for the night, and had put the button-up shirt on backwards. Jen hadn’t been sure if it was because Fontaine genuinely didn’t know she was putting on the shirt wrong, or if she was trying to just keep the pressure off her back, but either way the horror of it was fully exposed to Jen. The cracks had multiplied, and they wept a fluid that reminded Jen of oil. Black, but in the light of the amulet it reflected purple light.

“Fontaine, do you want me to take you to the hospital?” Jen’s voice shook. She had been less scared when Angor had first used Daylight against her, less scared than she was now.

“No,” Fontaine half-moaned, half-croaked. “Water?”

Jen grabbed her water bottle, and maneuvered Fontaine into a semi-sitting position so she could drink.

Fontaine’s eyes rolled back into her head, and she pitched forward. Jen rushed to catch her before she could hit the floor.

Two large, iridescent dark purple wings erupted from Fontaine’s back.

“H-hey,” Fontaine said when she came to half a minute later. “My back feels bet- what are those?”

“Um, so I guess you weren’t expecting wings either?”

“But how? Fairies are extinct, and, and, and I’m human.” Fontaine’s voice edged on hysterical. “My parents are human. I don’t remember them, but I’d think I’d remember if they had wings!”

“Maybe the Pale Lady tried to kill you by turning you into a fairy? We could ask Blinky.”

“Jen, I appreciate your help, but I doubt your allies feel the same way about helping me.”

“I mean, I’ll vouch for you.” Fontaine’s smile was small, and disbelieving, but Jen appreciated it nonetheless.

[thebutchknownaselaine]

I've been working on a period piece series that I would love to share with you. This is the first book. None of the books have anything linking them together aside from the fact they are period pieces set in the 1870s, 1960s and 1980s. All of these decade were big whether in the lgbt community or within the black and native american communities. Or both.

The first is set in the 1870s. The main protagonists are a native american woman named Alice Covington and a butch named Peter "Pete" Quaid disguised as a man which was much more common back then than people would like to think. It is about their journey to catch the gang who ruined Alice's peaceful life. She and her brother hire a bounty hunter, famed as being a headstrong, determined lawman who always catches his man. Little does Alice know, Peter holds his own darkened past and secrets that entangle their journey, weaving a path of adventure and stunning self growth.

I read a lot of period pieces over the years but recently came across several articles discussing women who disguised themselves as men back then. I also read a lot of articles on netive american and black american lives back then and the struggles they face in a post Civil War America.

This book is very much fiction but I like to pull from history as well and pay homage to those who came before me to pave the way for my bright future. It is incomplete as I am still working on it, but I have published two chapters so far and have fifteen written in all. Please give it a look if you have any free time and thank you!

Here's a snippet from the novel:

August 25th, 1873, Madison County, Montana

   Alice tightened the leather of her saddle in the cinch ring, then threaded the strap back up to the back saddle ring. It had been quite some time since she had last ridden Opie and he seemed rearing to get going on their ride. 

   She was just as eager to go as Opie appeared but Alice also knew the journey ahead would be hard. Harder than anything she had ever…

   That’s not true. I have dealt with much more difficult things. I can do this!

   “Would you like some help, ma’am?” A husky voice called from behind her and she spun around with a yelp.

   Alice had been so wrapped up in her thoughts she hadn’t even heard Mr. Quaid walking up. He stiffened and stared down at her uneasily. His face held the most peculiar grimace Alice had ever seen. Being this close to him again was a bit...odd. Pete didn’t smell like the other men, even smelled a bit of cinnamon, and Pete’s face, obviously cleanly shaved every morning, was so unscathed. Aside from a few facial scars, he just wasn’t the ruffian she had expected to meet when her brother regaled stories of Pete’s legendary travels.

   He wasn’t much taller than Alice herself but held himself in a way that was graceful and poised. It told her he had probably come from money so why on earth would Pete decide to be a bounty hunter? It wasn’t exactly an easy life, not that life was ever easy, but he was a good looking white man. Pete could have done anything with his life but had become…

   Well, it’s not my place to judge… 

   Still, Alice’s suspicions got the better of her and she turned away from him with a huff. She had never needed a man to help her ready her saddle and Alice wouldn’t be needing one now. 

   Her father had raised her to be a self sufficient woman. Alice knew how to shoot and ride better than more than half of the men she had met in her life and Mr. Quaid would be no exception to that rule. Men weren’t something she felt a necessity unless they were a part of her family and it wasn’t like she had ever been attracted to one. As much as she craved intimacy and yearned to find a reputable man even a fraction of a bit comparable to the men of her family, she did not expect to ever find such a man. Especially not now that… Alice shook her head from the clouds and sighed.

   “No, thank you, sir. I can manage just fine on my own.” 

   “Yes’m.” 

   Alice turned and looked over her shoulder to find him still standing there watching her. Well, watching her was an exaggeration, or rather, the wrong way to explain the look on his face. Pete shifted in place and crossed his arms over his chest as he examined Alice’s skirt with a grimace.

   “Is there something else you needed, Mr-”

   “Pete.” He interrupted but kept his eyes glued to her petticoat. “Just Pete's fine, ma’am, but...are you plannin’ on riding in that?”

   Now that the pleasantries of yesterday were over, Alice had found herself growing more and more irritated with not only Pete but herself. He would comment on what they could expect from their travels as if he was trying to scare Alice into not joining them after all, even though he had been the first to agree to it. Now Pete was picking at her clothing, staring at her as if he had just eaten the most tart jam in the world. 

   All of these men are alike. Why did I get my hopes up that he would be any different?

   Alice tried to shed her annoyance, determined not to let it get the best of herself and turned back to settling her saddle. Opie shifted a bit, picking up on her change in attitude and she ran a soothing caress down his neck. Alice looked back over her shoulder at Pete once more and found him staring at her hand.

   He audibly gulped and his burly neck muscles tensed. Alice caught herself staring at them and noticed they weren’t nearly as taut as she originally thought. They had a softness to them and Alice had to lock her hands behind her back to stop from reaching out, giving Pete the same gentle strokes she had just given Opie.

   With the shake of her head, Alice finished readying her saddle and turned around, mimicking Pete’s stance. “Is there a problem with the way I am dressed, Mr. Quaid?”

   “I said it's Pete. Don't call me that.” Pete snapped as he tightened his arms over his chest. He shivered but the weather was warm and sunny out so he couldn’t have been cold. Not to mention that it was August, one of the hottest months of the year. What is wrong with him? “Only my father goes by Mr. Quaid and I am not him. Also,” He waved his hand at her dress, then replaced it back in its hiding place. “That dress will only get in the way. Do you not have any split riding skirts?”

   “No, I ride side saddle.” 

   Pete shook his head and took his hat off, letting it hang against his back. His short blonde locks tussled in the wind and he ran his hand through it leaving it in a less than modest state. Astonished that unlike the men Alice knew Peter didn’t seem to really care about his appearance, she ran her eyes over his body once more.

   Pete had a strong, strapping build but wasn’t as big as most men his height. His arm muscles seemed to curve perfectly and were finely toned as they poked out past his rolled up sleeves. All of his clothing was either white or brown in color and he was, for lack of a better word, plain. It wasn’t that Pete wasn’t handsome but there was nothing about him that spoke to Alice as a woman and she didn’t understand why such a delightful woman like Hany would bother accompanying him all over the country.

   Alice peered up at Pete’s face and looked a bit closer, finding more than just the long scar that dressed his cheek down to his chin. He held one more scar above his right eye that was partially covered by his eyebrows and another just underneath his bottom lip. Pete didn’t seem old enough to have fought in the war, so what had caused such lingering scars on his otherwise soft looking skin? How old was he again? Alice couldn’t seem to remember.

   And how is his skin so smooth? For a man who is on the road most of his time, how is his face so gentle?

   The scars began to make a bit of sense the longer she thought of Walt’s wild stories of Mr. Quaid but it still didn’t explain why his tanned skin looked so untarnished by the usual weary lines men held after spending so much time in the sun. Was he really the man he claimed to be?

Well Pete had to be with someone like Hany backing up his claim. Alice couldn’t imagine her lying for this man but there was just something about Pete that was...off.

   “No, you aren't.” Pete told her. He looked over her dress again, then pulled out the knife strapped to his belt. It was a Bowie, just as Alice’s brother's knife, and she instinctively backed up into Opie. Pete froze and held his hands up, dropping the knife to the ground. “It's okay. I was just goin’ to cut a slit in your dress. If you ride side saddle as far as we're goin’, you could slip and hurt yourself and…” He rubbed the back of his head and winced like her recoil had caused him physical pain. “I don't want you to get hurt.”

   “Oh…” Alice had no idea how to reply. On one hand, Pete had been disrupting her emotions and she didn’t like to be anything short of level headed. On the other, he was now showing worry for her well being and already keeping true to his promise of looking out for her before they had even started their ride. Alice bent down and picked up his knife, then handed it to him. “Please, go ahead, Mr… Um, Pete.”

   The smallest hints of a smile tugged on Pete’s lips and he scurried forward to take the knife from her as Alice turned its hilt toward him. She shyly let go as Pete tipped his head. He knelt down in front of her and took the bottom of her dress into his gloved hands. The soft material wouldn’t obey him and he grunted before removing his gloves with his teeth.

   Oh my lord!

   Pete’s hands were covered in scars. Some looked like burns while others looked as though large rocks had crushed them at some point. Alice suppressed her gasp and darted her eyes over Pete’s hands as he took her dress into them again. He peered up at her with a timidness she hadn’t seen before. All the time Pete sat in her brother’s office and even when he and Hany had stayed for dinner, he hadn’t removed his gloves.

   That must have been so painful… No wonder he speaks of not wanting others hurt. 

   Alice put her hand to her forehead and rubbed it in frustration. Pete hadn’t been trying to scare her off yesterday evening at supper when he explained the terrors of the less traveled roads or of when he mentioned what passing through indian country held for them. He had only mentioned…

   I just do not want you to get hurt. That is what he said at dinner and just now… How could I have been so...so… 

   “Are you alright, ma’am? I didn't nick your leg, did I?” Peter broke through her thoughts and Alice looked down at him finding a deep blush across his cheeks.

   “No, Pete. I'm perfectly fine. I apologize if-”

   “No need to apologize, ma-”

   “Alice.” She interjected with a firm gaze. “If you want me to call you Pete and we are going to be together all this time, then I would like for you to call me by my first name as well, please.”

   Pete opened and closed his mouth several times, then swallowed a mouthful of air with a stiff nod. He went back to cutting her dress. Once he had enough of the trim cut, Pete set down the knife and began to rip the skirt further up her leg. Soon enough, Alice’s knickers were exposed and she watched as the blush that was just on Pete’s face seconds before, stretched across the back of his neck and his ears. 

   Pete kept his eyes glued to her boots and rose, grabbing his knife from the ground on the way up. With a small nod and eyes that wouldn’t meet hers, he turned and walked away as quickly as his long legs would carry him. Pete may not have been as handsome as many other men she had known, and definitely not as handsome as papa, but the way he carried himself and the steadfastness in his resolve were all things Alice knew she would find herself looking at from time to time once they got going.

   Give me strength… 

[ducktracy]

103. my green fedora (1935)

release date: may 4th, 1935

series: merrie melodies

director: friz freleng

starring: tommy bond (peter)

this one has some interesting history. it’s seemingly a sequel to country boy. according to an interview by mike barrier, bob clampett claims he wrote the story for this episode for a story competition. here’s the quote from the interview, which you can read here:

“About the same time as the first Porky story, Leon announced a studio-wide contest, with a money prize to whichever member of the staff turned in the best original story. So many of us entered the contest that the animation footage went down. My story, which was about a rabbit family, won first prize, and was made as My Green Fedora. This gave me a big boost, since I'd just originated a couple of characters (Porky and Beans) and now I'd won the story contest.”

the porky and beans stuff is totally false—friz was the true creator of the two. bob clampett had a habit of passing off characters he didn’t make as his own. but, to be fair, that was just how it was in those days. directors weren’t viewed or respected the way they are today. if you didn’t make bugs bunny, you weren’t important. so EVERYONE in those days tried to pass off various characters as their own, but bob clampett was certainly the biggest offender. really, the characters were a collaborative effort (though they all have their origins, porky and beans originating from friz)

ANYWAY! some interesting history. an unofficial sequel to country boy, peter has to take care of his baby brother elmer, but a hungry weasel decides to intervene.

peter’s mother peeps her head outside the cottage door, looking for her mischievous son. her target overhears her calls, sneaking around the edge of the house and hoping not to get caught. too late. peter’s mother snags him from outside, dragging him in through an open window. it seems she’s going out for the day, collecting her picnic basket and hat. she instructs peter to watch his little brother, elmer (a favorite name for babies? remember cookie’s little brother elmer?) while she goes out to shop, adding a stern “and keep out of mischief!”

elmer watches his mother walk down the lane outside. the coast clear, he shifts his eyes around before puffing out his chest and wailing. what a good gag! we’ve all seen that baby who throws a tantrum just for the hell of it. they get some sort of amusement out of it in their tiny little brains. peter, clearly annoyed, shakes elmer’s rattle, who snags it up and beats peter on the head with it, wailing once more. i love how nonchalant he looks, propping himself up by the elbow and screaming like nobody’s business.

unable to take any more, peter plugs his ears and marches into the closet for relief. i’m sure all older siblings have felt like doing that with baby siblings, right? (i’m speaking as the youngest sibling, so i sympathize with elmer more than i do peter LOL.) peter sulks on a box inside the closet... until he spots a green fedora. he places it on his head and moves over to put on a coat hanging on a mannequin, which disperses into a cloud of moths. nevertheless, he finds a matching green coat hanging by the door and puts it on.

darting back into the nursery, peter sings the titular “my green fedora”. i love this scene! peter’s voice actor is tommy bond, who was butch in our gang/little rascals. he was also the voice of owl jolson in tex’s i love to singa. the scene is very cute—peter’s doing an impression of comedian joe penner, hence his guttural, slightly warbly but very endearing vocals. the dance he does is great, strutting around with a fake cigar. elmer laughs at the act, doing a joe penner laugh (which is highly annoying but VERY funny. peter finds it obnoxious and grimaces before continuing).

elsewhere, a hungry weasel pops its head out of its hole outside the cottage, overhearing peter’s singing. peter finishes the act and elmer gives another laugh, irritating peter. in fact, he’s so irritated that he throws the fedora on the ground, fedora bouncing back up a few times on his head. he tosses his coat on the ground and stalks angrily outside, leaving elmer to his own devices.

the hungry weasel recognizes he has his chance to get in and feast on some baby rabbit. he digs a hole under the floor, right under elmer’s rug. he gets in with ease and ties a handkerchief around his head to give the illusion of bunny ears, a gag daffy would use on porky to convince him he was the easter bunny in what price porky.

lovely staging. elmer, who had settled in for a nap, wakes up and spots the looming silhouette on his wall, happily exclaiming “mommy!” he turns around and screams—a very grotesque shot of the weasel’s bloodshot eyes and elongated snout. elmer tugs in the weasel’s snout and lets go, but it does little to shake the weasel. the weasel dumps elmer in a brown sack and leaps into the hole he dug, pulling the rug over it to cover his tracks.

meanwhile, peter is still sulking along outside. his mother’s words come back to him, and fear pings him. awww, it’s cute that peter has some remorse in this cartoon. i liked how mischevious he was in country boy, but this is a good balance between mischevious and caring. obligatory big brother duties. he senses something is wrong and rushes back to the house, only to find the nursery completely empty. while looking around frantically, he steps onto the rug and plummets right into the tunnel.

very moody lighting in the tunnel scenes, i love it! once peter stops tumbling, he lights a match to see better.

this lighting is phenomenal. the weasel picks up elmer and salts him, dumping him into a frying pan and roasting him over a flame. nice detail of hesitation—it takes just a second for the flames to actually burn elmer. the weasel shushes elmer’s screams, but elmer doesn’t listen, crying “help! help!”

thank god for peter! he overhears his brother’s screams, the match falling as he gets startled. he cries “elmer, elmer! where are you? elmer! i’m coming, elmer!” bad news for the weasel, who stuffs elmer back in the brown sack and takes off.

peter follows the weasel’s tracks through twists and turns. he pops his head out of a hole, where the weasel is waiting just to sock him in the face. can’t go wrong with some slapstick as peter propels through the twists and turns of the tunnels, popping out at ANOTHER hole where the weasel socks him, the pattern continuing.

it’s especially amusing to watch elmer, whose little ears are poking out of the sack, run away, just a sack with legs. the weasel chases him down, while peter falls out of the hole one last time in a daze, knocked unconscious. elmer drops through a hole and runs through some tunnels, parallel to the ones peter slid through. the animation is great. what’s funnier than seeing a little bag with feet run around aimlessly? the camera angles are very nice, too, and really add to the flow of the scene.

elmer is free! or so he thinks. he exits a tunnel and barrels straight into the butt of the weasel, who snatches him up and sneers. meanwhile, peter finally wakes up, immediately becoming punchy and shadow boxing with an invisible foe. the weasel spots he’s being followed once more and crouches in a tunnel. there are two tunnels—one continuing in the ground, one leading upwards. the weasel clogs the ground tunnel and serves as a ramp for peter to run up, running up a tree branch and falling back on his head, another gag that we’ll see quite often (such as in porky in wackyland).

thankfully, a hose is right next to the opening of the hole. a nice little underscore of “my green fedora” plays energetically as peter drowns the weasel out of his hiding place. various geysers gush out of multiple holes, including elmer, who’s closest to peter, and the weasel further away.

peter plugs the hole with his foot and reunites with his baby brother, freeing him from the sack. peter smiles as he increases the water pressure, sending the weasel flying into the air uncontrollably. once he’s high enough in the air, peter cuts off the water, sending the weasel crashing to the ground... right into a cactus patch. strange anecdote i suppose, but i remember one time we were staying at a vacation house which had a tiny little patch of cacti. i don’t know what happened or HOW it happened, but i remember my dad having to spend that night picking out a TON of cactus needles in my skin LOL. the curiosity of a 5/6 year old is a dangerous thing. i think that was the same year i accidentally tumbled down on some of the largest sand dunes on the east coast.

anyway, the weasel takes off in pain, and elmer gives his obnoxious joe penner laugh. all brotherly bonds are broken as peter, annoyed, turns on the hose and sends elmer into the air, smiling as he falls back down. wow, what an ending!

this is a really good merrie melody, especially for its time. friz doesn’t get enough credit. the merrie melodies are no mona lisa, but they definitely brought some much needed entertainment in the era of buddy. peter, elmer, and the weasel all have distinct personalities, archetypal as they may be. i LOVED peter. mischevious older brother who clearly didn’t sign up to be the older brother, but rushing to the rescue regardless. still, if the baby’s annoying, even after all they’ve been through, he’ll still squirt him with water! the song “my green fedora” is ridiculously catchy, peter’s less than perfect rendition very amusing and endearing. this feels a lot like a cartoon you’d see in the late 30s, like around 1938 or so. i definitely recommend it! bob clampett’s influence is certainly lingering. animation was nice, story was nice, characters were nice... i may also be biased since i have a big brother of my own, who i wish would send ME flying into the air with a hose. anyway, give it a watch! i can’t really think of many downsides to it. a happy, feel good cartoon.

link!

[whereyoursparkresides]

Aftercare

A fic inspired by @breakdownsbuttlights‘s Humanformers AU with femme!Cyclonus and sweet butch!Tailgate. Just a silly little ficlet so these two can have some squishy feels.

It was like any other regular late night aboard the Lost Light. Tailgate had stayed up as late as she could with the other members over some drinks, but now she was turning in. Cyclonus had already long retired before her, and Tailgate was looking forward to the company. Perhaps they’d snuggle and Cyclonus would sing and tell her more stories of her history, or perhaps she’d just listen as Tailgate would rattle on about the anecdotes from the others. The possibilities made Tailgate smile widely as she slid open the berth door.

Upon entering the dark room, however, Tailgate paused. Unlike their previous nights, Cyclonus was already in bed. She must’ve really been tired, Tailgate thought. It wasn’t unusual for Cyclonus to occasionally nap to recharge herself during the day, but for now she was in as deep of a slumber as Tailgate had ever seen. Her silhouette was an elegant curve in in the window, moonlight gleaming the brustroke of her shoulders, waist, and hip. 

She was beautiful.

Suspended in this rare, quiet moment, Tailage slowly crept towards the bed as carefully as she could. As she approached the bed,  the faint stream of light swam over Cyclonus, spilling over her hair, her shoulders, the dips of the back. Tailgate followed the river of light to admire the softness of Cyclonus’ skin, the valleys and crevices of her muscles...

 Until she noticed the marks.

They were many, too many to count. They gleaned paler against her skin and criscrossed in various directions. They scratched from her shoulders, down her spine, and the dip of her waist. Some even peeked above the waistband of her pants. Tailgate’s eyebrows furrowed - had they all been from war?

Suddenly Tailgate felt a surge of pity and anger, and her tiny hands balled up into trembling fists. Who had hurt Cyclonus like this? And yes, while Tailgate knew the pride of carrying the scars of survival, her own were nicks compared to Cyclonus’. And as much as Tailgate knew of Cyclonus’ limitless bravery and endurance to pain and suffering...had anyone ever looked after Cyclonus after all that, the way she had her? Had anyone ever picked her up from the field when she was too spent to stand?

Or held her close, silently and gently, the way she had always held Tailgate?

Overcome with the desire to check up on her, Tailgate crawled up onto the bed. She was careful to keep herself light, in case Cyclonus woke up. Cyclonus had always been a light sleeper.

The springs of the mattress creaked quietly beneath her, as Tailgate took a moment to just look at Cyclonus. Even in her sleep, her face was etched with her slight, ever-present frown, but Tailgate knew better. She had seen Cyclonus’ many other expressions, subtle as they were. She knew Cyclonus had one for softness, for fondness, for happiness. She also had one for peace, and right now she was not in peace.

Gently, Tailgate reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder. At first it was just the faintest of grazes, an hesitant motion for fear she'd disturb her from her sleep. But there was also a sense of awe to the gesture, like stroking the scales of a sleeping dragon.

Cyclonus shifted a little, but didn't wake up. She seemed to like the touch, so Tailgate lightly deepened her strokes. She circled her thumb in all the nooks she could find, not at all surprised (but also appalled) at the hardness of the knots she found within them. She also made sure to graze her thumb across the grain of the scars, never with them. She never wanted Cyclonus to remember how they were made.

The deepening of her massage eventually stirred Cyclonus awake. Blearily, she lifted her head over her shoulder.

“Tailgate?”

“Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.” But neither did Tailgate stop her gentle caressing.

Cyclonus’ eyes cleared up a bit, but they were still soft with sleep. “No...I'm fine. Is something the matter?”

“Hm? No, nothing's wrong with me.”

There was that faint smile now. “Good.” Her expression then turned puzzled. “But what are you-” Suddenly her eyes rolled upwards and she took a sharp inhale of surprise.

“Do you want me to stop?” Tailgate grinned, but didn't let up her massaging.

“Hmn? No…” Cyclonus shifted a bit to let the knots roll closer to Tailgate's thumb. “Hmn…”

“Here, let me.” Tailgate eagerly took this opportunity to reseat herself in front of the headboard, and readjusted Cyclonus’ head so that she was now resting on her lap. Now aligned with her partner, she placed both hands on Cyclonus’ bare shoulders, and began to knead.

The sound of Cyclonus sighing quietly filled Tailgate with joy, a note so deep and beautiful  and rich.

This was what was supposed to happen to her after every battle. This was right.

“That's ...really good,” Cyclonus murmured.

Tailgate increased her pressure with even more gusto. “Well, these big arms had better be good for something!”

They shared a little chuckle, but when Tailgate looked down, she was surprised to see Cyclonus’ bright gold eyes gazing up at her so clearly, so sincerely.

“You were always good,” said Cyclonus softly. “For everything.”

A blush rose to Tailgate's face, and suddenly she wanted to duck her glowing face to hide her stupidly wide smile. Whenever Cyclonus said things like that, she never knew how to respond... but she loved hearing it anyway. Coming from Cyclonus, those words meant the world to her, more than hearing it from anyone else.

As Cyclonus’ body began to relax into Tailgate's lap, her eyes trailed back up to follow the rest of her partner's frame in the shadows. She had never seen Cyclonus this relaxed before. While she rested,  everything about Cyclonus became even more stunning to look at...how powerful her limbs were, sculpted to the perfect balance of grace, speed and strength. The dusty smoothness of her skin, the dark river of her hair. The lightness of her frame, yet strong and unbending as steel…

Tailgate’s eyes softened in awe.

“You’re so beautiful,” she breathed honestly, without thinking. The rhythm of her hands became more gentle, more careful, like Cyclonus was a great sculpture she daren’t ruin. “Like...just look at you. I’d... “ There was once a time when Tailgate would’ve dreamed to be like Cyclonus, beautifully streamlined to be a glorious warrior. Instead she just had her garbage chute calves, silly shortness and clunky wide hips that made her bounce when she ran.

“You’d what, Tailgate?” Cyclonus’ voice broke through quietly, and Tailgate startled out of her daydream.

“Oh, nothing,” she quickly said, returning to kneading with more gusto. “You’re just...really handsome, that’s all.”

But then, she felt a hand graze her along those big hips of hers. And she looked down to see Cyclonus gazing up at her again, but with a gentleness in her eyes.

“No need to look at me for that, little one,” she said softly but firmly. Her hand travelled back and forth along her hip and thigh steadily. “You only need to look at yourself.”

Once more, Tailgate’s face lit up in a blush, and unable to help herself, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms tightly around Cyclonus’ shoulder and chest. Long arms returned the gesture, circling to hook her forearms, so that one was huddled over the other, nesting together.

“Promise me you won’t ever go, right?” Tailgate breathed out, her voice trembling ever so slightly. “That you’ll stay with me, and we’ll have moments like this?”

Cyclonus seemed surprised at the intensity in which Tailgate’s hushed whisper was spoken, but agreed none of the less.

“Of course, little one.”

Tailgate’s grip tightened, her face buried deep into the crook of Cyclonus’ shoulder.

“Every week. Promise me we’ll have a moment like this, every week.”

This time, the hands travelled from her forearms to circle around her back. It was a little awkward because Tailgate hadn’t completely let go, but Cyclonus’ fingers were long, and they rested lightly to reassure her.

“You have my word.”

And then there was a faint turn of Cyclonus’s head, and Tailgate felt a gentle kiss on the side of her face. When she lifted her head a bit, she saw Cyclonus’ eyes close in rest, and Tailgate just knew. Just knew this would be a promise that would be forever kept.

Bubbling with happiness, Tailgate gave her partner one more tight squeeze, and together they remained as they were, in the serenity of the moonlight.

[vishoustotb-blog]

Fight On Fight Off

Blay:

I’d made plans with V the morning before to meet up in the gym for a session. I'd mentioned at first meal that I wanted a good workout with someone other than Qhuinn and John. Not because I minded working out with them but we always did that and sometime you just needed a new challenge. V had been the one to offered up. The male usually worked alone or with Butch, out of habit I figured just like Q, John and I trained together most of the time. Gym time wasn’t just for working out but to spend with your mates making sure the other pushed himself as far as he could go with some tough love and some some good old teasing. It all was of course said with a the best intentions, at least most of the time. It was also the only time we had together at times when rotation had us on different schedules so we also used the time to catch up with each other.

We had been friends for a long time, the three of us, especially Q and I who more or less grew up together. When John came in our duo became the perfect friend triad, the three amigos. We were an odd pair the three of us but we always worked and been best friends since we met.

But today I was getting a real challenge sparring against V, one, because the male was huge and two, since we didn't spare that much together I couldn't read him as well as Qhuinn or John, and I knew that went both ways so there would be a challenge for the both of us. I'd be able to surprise him some of my moves in return. I was excited and was ready to rumble.

Rubbing my hands together in anticipation I stalked through the tunnels to get to the gym. I pushed the door open with both hands heading right for the wrappers to wrap my hands as I waited for V To show up.

V:

Gym time with Blay, this was going to be interesting, I've never been in the gym with him before, I'd always been there with Butch or Hollywood but what Q has been telling me Blay was good at pushing you. That was what I needed at this present time, I had feelings for Q and then there was our little firecracker Bitty. I loved them both dearly but if we had a gym session we'd probably end up in the equipment room doing things other than lifting weights.

Already in shorts and a muscle shirt and sneakers, I head out of the pit and down the tunnels towards the training centre. Opening the door to the weights room Blay was already there waiting “You ready for this Blay?” Taking a towel from a stack that Fritz always keep stocked up. Bless that doggen. Striding over to the dumbbells, picking them up I begin to do reps, left, right, left, right. Looking over at Blay he was looking at me “What's on your mind?” I knew what it was but I wanted to hear it from him. Carrying on with the reps till the muscles in my arms started screaming as I pushed them further, gritting my teeth through the pain.

Putting the weights down, taking the towel and scrubbed my face. Getting up going over to the treadmill, turning it on I got on it and began to run on a methodical pace, the soft pounding of my sneakers on the belt as I continued with the run. I felt like running a marathon today, and back, pulling a truck behind me.

Blay: I watched Vishous entering, he looked a bit preoccupied but not so much that I thought he changed his mind. I knew this thing between him, Qhuinn and Bitty was new and all those new lovey dovey feelings would mess with anyone’s head. I sorta did a internal snort chuckle, but I could feel my lips twitching at the thought of Vishous being all head over heels and giggling. Not that I actually heard him giggling but the idea of him being so wrapped up with Qhuinn and Bitty was sorta funny.

“Me… oh nothing. I was just all inside my head.” I said while warming up with stretches and other moves like air punches and such. I did so while watching Vishous do his warm up with some weights and then the treadmill. “Actually now when you asked there is something I wanted to ask you about. But I need you to not bite my head off for asking.” I knew a wrong word said by me would be taken as criticism and considering how loyal the trio were to each other they would rather kill me and get rid of the body than admit anything foul play on the other’s part so to speak.   

“Bitty told me she was going out on rotation soon. I think that is awesome that she is getting ready for that.” I knew from helping Butch and Tohr out from time to time with classed that Bitty was one of the trainees that did the best so I wasn’t surprised she was hitting the streets soon. V stopped the treadmill his dark but yet piercing eyes watching me intently. “But do you think it is such a good idea that her first time out is with you, or Qhuinn, for that matter? I mean bonded males and all that shit.” I didn’t know personally because I’d never felt for someone the way Vishous, Qhuinn and Bitty obviously felt for each other but I knew what a bonded male looked like when possessive and what he smelled like when he was near his lover or as in this case lovers.

“If you like we could talk to Tohr and Butch about her hitting the streets with John and I, if you guys think it is an ok idea of course.”

V:

Hearing Blay bang on about Bitty go out into the field with other males was a no go. A deep rumble vibrated through my body, realising it was me making the noise, growl of a bonded male. My top lip had pulled back exposing my fangs “No one goes with Bitty in the field except with Q and I” Turning away from Blay I sat on the bench press, laying down I gripped the bar and lifted the weights up and down to my chest.

Pumping the bar up and down, I thought of Bitty out in the field. Yeah I could understand where Blay was coming from about her being with other males but it still didn't feel right. True if she was with Q and I there wouldn't be much patrolling done, we'd be all in the shadows taking Bitty, Q and myself in many different ways. The thought of that had my body getting hard, the spicy rich scent filled the air.

Whoa what was that? Putting the bar back onto the rest I sat up. Holy fuck my cock had made a tent in my nylon shorts, the scent was my bonding scent that had filled the air. Yeah it was fair to say Bitty wasn't going out in the field with Butch or Tohr.

Blay:

I didn't understand Vishous at all in his argument. It was unreasonable and reckless which I'm sure Tohr and Wrath would agree. And if they didn't there wasn't much I could do about it. If they wanted to risk theirs and Bitty's life by being stubborn and possessive that was their business.

I got a bit annoyed at V for so abruptly cutting the discussion. My worry was Bitty, she was young inexperienced and Vishous and Qhuinn  was supposed to be the rational and experienced one. But I wasn't going to get into that here and now if the three of them was going to act like horny teenagers it was their right to do.

Yet another reason to stay single was to not fall into a trap of this mind fuck of not being rational.

"Ok. You do as you like. But it is a really crappy idea V and I'm pretty sure you know it." I shrug  and grab a couple of mittens pulling them on. "Let's go a few rounds if you still want to that is."

V:

Grabbing some mittens and slides them onto my hands “You sure you want to do this Blay?” With all the pent up anger in me I began to throw punches, some hitting Blay some way off the mark.

The anger of Blay telling me it was unreasonable for Bitty to go on rotation with Q and I was rising, the thought of Bitty with another male was to unbearable to think about, that left a stinging in my heart. The pounding was like a drum beat in tune with my heart. “Safer if not with you” “Acting like loved up teenagers” It was getting worse and worse, the frustration, the anger and being told what is best for everyone.

With a roar I let out all of my emotions, firstly I hit out at Blay. Punching him in the eye, he would be sporting a shiner for the next few days. Turning around I confront a punching bag, seeing at as a lesser I punch out at the damn thing, over and over till all my frustration was out. Dropping my arms, I was panting heavily. Seeing Blay on the floor I knew I'd lost it. Fuck I was becoming an animal, a dangerous one at that.

Blay:

His first couple of punches caught me off guard since we hadn't called start. I knew why, I knew I'd poked the bear. I knew that V would initially resent me for telling that his relationship with Bitty, or Qhuinn, didn't make it good for either of them to be partnered up on rotation. Actually it was a pretty fucking dumb idea, I knew and Vishous knew that it was true.

What the three of them needed was all of them to stop and start thinking with their heads not their libidos. I ducked his next hit punching him in the gut, once then twice pissing him off. The shove that came next causing him to get me unsteady enough to punch me in the face. I knew from the blow I'd have a shiner the size of an orange.

I growled "Asshole!" And the fight was on. I was only trying to look out for them and Vishous acted like a fucking prick. Well fine if he wanted to fight me fight me. Fucking fine!

We fought for real throwing punches like our lives depended on it. Eventually I pushed him off me knocked him hard causing him to stumble backwards.

"Enough! Enough! I don't know why the fuck you're so pissed. You know I'm right and this boned male shit is making you into a massive asshole. You want to die fine let me help you by getting you a dagger but really you want to see Bitty or Q dead because you all had your focus on other shit than the shadows in the allies!?" I touched the side of my face and then my split lip. "What the actual fuck V!" I growled again. Did I mention how happy I am for not being in love or wanting to be in love and become an irrational horn hormone.

V:

Finally the mist of red descended, my vision returning. Looking around seeing Blay on the floor, his face badly beaten. Fuck I'd lost control all because he'd mentioned about being in the field with Bitty and Q. But he was right how could we all fight when our minds would be on other things like eying the nearest dark corner.

Standing over Blay I felt ashamed “I'm sorry Blay but I cannot help the way I feel about Bitty and Q” I offer my hand out to him, I wouldn't blame Blay if he didn't accepted my apology or my hand of peace. Hell even I wouldn't of accepted my own apology. I was a great risk to everyone especially Bitty and Q but fuck it all. Everyone had been banging on how it was a bad idea for us all to go on rotation together. No one was going to change our minds, for me it was my way of knowing Bitty and Q were safe. Lowering my hand when Blay didn't take what I offered, I grabbed the towel and scrubbed my face “One day you'll be in this position, true? Then you'll understand what we are feeling towards each other”

Tossing the towel down the laundry shoot I walked passed Blay giving him a hard stare, I strode off to the double doors that lead out into the training centre. Walking down the corridor towards the pit, Bitty and Q were waiting for me there, I'd go right up to them and pull them into a hug. They were my life and I'd die for them.

Blay:

I was pissed at V and his behavior, so yeah I ignored his outstretched hand like a child. I most likely would regret it once I calmed down but that wasn't now. Instead I stood up, throwing my gloves off and reached for my towel to dry of the blood of my face. I couldn't help but to glared at Vishous as he spoke.

“One day you'll be in this position, true? Then you'll understand what we are feeling towards each other.” Those were his words, and at that moment I wanted to choke him with them.

Snorting I pointed a long finger in his face "Not fucking likely! More like it will be over my dead body. But even if I was I'd never be dumb enough to jeopardize that person's life, especially, not when I claim to care for them. Your cock is doing the thinking and here I thought you were the smart one.” I snorted again giving him what I hoped was a hard stare.

Vishous didn't answer me instead he gave me his back as he stalked out.

Grabbing my sweatshirt I wasn't short on leaving the gym too, walking through the tunnels back to the main house to get to my rooms. As I passed the pit I banged on the door hard enough for the wood to creek just to give him a last fuck you. It was their funeral, not mine. Watch me not give a shit. #FightOnFightOff #BDB #DP

[hardassexcop]

Parenthood @Marissa_SASBDB @HardAssExCop

Marissa:  It had been nearly a week since our little warrior Rhavage was born. He was a good boy for me and his Daddy. I still couldn’t believe he was our little bundle of joy. He slept through the day just like us, night time he would keep us awake the whole family loved him. Everyone took turns in holding him, Butch took a week off rotation just to help and let me rest, it was heaven. Looking at him he was devoted to Rhavage whenever he woke up he was there told me to stay in bed and rest. I think since having Rhavage it’s changed him a little he is more focus and he is such a loving father to him. I guess that is why I love him so much, he puts us first like he always did with me. Just seeing him with Rhavage, I feel pain for him because he never got the love from his own family. That is why I am going to make sure that he is with us everyday/night. He is my soulmate the love of my life.

My arms were around Butch as we was snuggling in bed. Rhavage was in his moses basket next to our bed. I could hear him in his sleep making noises it was so cute as if he was dreaming. I lifted my head and smiled at Butch “Can you hear him baby?” Placing my arm over his chest “He sounds as if he is dreaming baby.”  Moving up closer as I planted a soft kiss on his lips.

Butch:  

Laying in bed, Marissa had her arm across my chest, Rhavage was asleep in the Moses basket by our bed “Yeah I can baby. I wonder if he's dreaming of his next feed” Chuckling softly,  capturing Marissa's lips with my own. I was blessed with a loving mate, a young who we both adore. Wrath had given me the week off rotation to adjust to fatherhood. I was helping out the best I could with Rhavage with his feed or if he needed his diaper changing. I never knew how much a baby could poop! And it stank. Yes even worse than V's socks.

Everyone in the mansion were flocking to see our little warrior, taking turns to hold him, coo over him. The females were taking it in turns to pamper Rhavage, I bet he now knows how a parcel in pass the parcel feels now. This was my family, the joys of a new life, new beginnings. But at times I did think of Odell and how she would of love to see Rhavage, but would of that tipped her further over the edge in her dementia? Would any of the other O'Neals would believe her, if mother had lived, a word she said. They would of passed it off as one of her little episodes.

Sighing deeply as Marissa's and mine lips parted, I was about to talk to her when Rhavage began to become restless. First it was a whimper till he cranked the volume up and cried at the top of his lungs. “Is the next feed in the fridge baby?” Getting out of bed towards the moses basket. I bent over scooping Rhavage into my arms “Hungry I guess?” Rhavage answered with a loud wail “Yep your hungry” Handing the little man to Marissa I headed out into the lounge and into the gallery kitchen.

Marissa: As I was laying next to Butch, Rhavage gave out a massive wail it was loud. Yep, I guess our little warrior is hungry. Butch got out of bed and passed Rhavage to me, I held him in my arms  as Butch went towards the lounge into the kitchen to get him a bottle. “Baby, I could just breastfeed him, keep the bottles for when we need them. It saves you getting up while we are both here baby. Yea my boobs hurt but that is because he likes his food.” Laughing softly. “Sometimes he sucks really hard, he is even worse than you baby. But he needs to feed so I don’t mind.”

Butch:

Once in the kitchen Marissa yells out about breastfeeding “Now she tells me” saying this to myself. Shouting back to her “I'm coming back baby” Back in the bedroom Rhavage had latched onto Marissa's nipple and was suckling to his heart's content. Lucky boy having that harden bud in his mouth. The instant I thought of Marissa's nipple in my mouth the guy down below got hard, turning my back I rearranged myself “Not now you traitor” Turning back around Marissa was stroking Rhavage on the side of his face. “Baby do you want to take our little warrior to the Safe Place tonight? The females and the young will adore him” Perching on the edge of the bed I brought my hand up, letting Rhavage hold onto my index finger.

Marissa: After I shouted to Butch about me breastfeeding he shouted back that he was on his way back. Rhavage was still wailing until I lifted him up closer holding him tight with my hands supporting his back, trying to ease him. That is when he latched onto my nipple hard, sucking so hard making these cute sounds. “Damn Rhavage you are just as bad as your Daddy.” Laughing more  “Though I should think he would be jealous right about now that it’s not him and maybe have a bulge in his pants.” I carry on feeding our little warrior.

Butch: Rhavage had his feed which took about thirty minutes, but he needs milk to grow and poop more in his diaper. Once he had done Marissa passed Rhavage to me, I laid him gently over my shoulder, patting his back gently till he deafened me with burp “Where did that come from? Your big toes?” Laying him back on our bed, I played with him whilst I talked with Marissa “What do you think of going to the Safe Place baby?” I continued to make cooing noises to Rhavage till Marissa answered me.

Marissa: After I finished feeding Rhavage, Butch took him out of my arms and starting patting his back he gave out a large burp. Laughs softly just like his Daddy. Watching him as Butch played with our son, making me laugh a lot. “That sounds like a great idea baby. I bet everyone can’t wait to meet him, baby. He is going to get very spoiled baby. I bet I am only inside for a about 2 minutes and he will be gone out of my arms. When shall we go baby?”

Butch:  

“We can go tonight if you want to baby. You have a shower and I'll get Rhavage ready” As Marissa got up I gave that sexy ass of hers a quick slap. I scooped Rhavage into my arms and carried him over to the changing station. Laying him down I got a clean diaper from the draw below, some wipes and some talc. I proceeded to change Rhavage's diaper, putting the dirty diaper into a diaper sack and tied it up, throwing it into the trash can. Placing the clean diaper under him, I grabbed some wipes and cleaned his butt. Taking a clean cloth I patted him dry, grabbed the bottle of talc and shock it into his butt and front. Once done I taped the diaper together at the sides “One clean warrior, now for some clothes” With one hand on Rhavage I bent down grabbing a baby grow, a little t shirt with the Red Sox on and a little pair of jeans. Putting them on him was like having a wrestling match, at one point Rhavage was winning but I got the better of him and got him dressed. Picking him up I turned towards the bathroom door as Marissa emerged from the bathroom “We got one clean kiddo here baby”

Marissa: I placed Rhavage into Butch’s arm as I headed to the bathroom for a shower. “Butch’s hand caught me on the cheek of my butt, as I headed towards the bathroom. “Mmm baby” laughing softly as I headed into the shower. I finished in the shower getting myself dressed I could hear Butch and Rhavage in the other room. I opened the door slightly watching them both. I could see Rhavage having a wrestling match with his dad and Butch was trying to dress him, it was so cute to see. My little warrior trying to give his daddy a run for his money but it didn’t work Butch got the better of him. The noises he was making made my heart melt. Then Butch told me our little warrior was clean. “I can see that baby, I was watching you both.”

Butch:

“You were? Did you see him put up the fight of his life there. Baby he doesn't like having clothes on, I think we have a nudist here” Laughing handing Rhavage back to Marissa. “I'm going to take a quick shower and then we set to go” Pressing my lips against Marissa's I headed into the bathroom. Once in there I turned the shower on, kicked my boxers off and stepped under the water. Grabbing the soap I did a quick foaming over my body, under my nut sac and suds down my back. Putting the soap back I turned the shower off and stepped out, drying myself off I went back into the bedroom, going to the closet I dressed quickly into some leather pants, a muscle shirt. Arming myself I wasn't going outside into the big bad world not able to protect Marissa and Rhavage. I put on a leather coat and pocketed more knives, ammo and a length of chain. Coming out of the closet I look over to Marissa and Rhavage “You two ready?”

Marissa: “Yes, baby. I was watching you both, you gave as good as he did to you baby. I know baby do you think because he was nude inside me so long or maybe because he is to warm? But then again baby, you are always commando maybe he takes after his Daddy.” I held my arms open as you placed our son back in my arms as you also went and had a shower. Playing and listening to Rhavage as I waited for Butch to come back. Hearing him entering the room and going over to the closet arming himself with Knives, ammo and other stuff. Then he turned asking us if we was ready. “Yes, baby. We are ready. “

Butch:  

“Car seat is in the lounge baby, you get Rhavage strapped in and I'll get the keys from V” Going to V I grab the Escalades keys off him “I'm taking Marissa and Rhavage to the Safe place” “You want back up?” “Nah we be fine but I'll ring you if we need you” I returned to Marissa's side, she had Rhavage in the car seat, strapped in a blanket across his legs keeping them and his feet warm. Picking up the car seat I took Marissa's hand in mine and walked out of the pit into the courtyard

Marissa: Listening to Butch as he told me the car seat was in the lounge, I walked to the lounge placing Rhavage in the seat strapping him in. Putting a blanket over his feet to keep him warm. I was waiting for Butch as he grabbed the keys for the Escalade from V. Butch returned and we walked out of the pit into the courtyard to go to the safe place.

Butch:

Taking the keys from my pocket, I pressed the button on the fob, the indicators flashed unlocking the Escalade. Opening the rear door I place Rhavage into the backseat, strapping him in with the seat belt. Closing the door I opened the passenger door and helped Marissa in, strapping her in as well. I give Marissa a kiss and closes her door. Coming round to the driver's side I open the door, getting in and shuts the door, putting on my seat belt. I push the keys into the ignition and turns the engine on. Reversing back till I can bring the front of the Escalade around, I drive down the lane till I reach Route 22. Driving down into Caldwell then back out to the outskirts it wasn't long before we were at the Safe Place. Putting the Escalade into park, I switched the engine off. Getting out I helped Marissa and Rhavage up to the front door.

Marissa: I got out of the Escalade and went up to the front door to surprise everyone, Butch kissed me, he knew he wasn't allowed into the Safe Place. I entered the safe place, I was only in there about 2 minutes before Rhavage was in someone else’s arms. Smiling as I watched the people around me. “Evening all, I thought | would surprise you all. This is our little warrior Rhavage.” I sat down watching the people with my bundle of joy.

#ParentHood #SASBDB

[sittingoverheredreaming]

Part six of HaruMichi Beauty and the Beast! See the Masterpost for previous chapters

——————

Haruka lie awake in bed. Michiru was… weird. She was a weird strange monster with a weird strange aversion to telling Haruka anything that could help.

Haruka thought about what it would have been like, walking in the garden with her when she was normal. Human. Haruka might want to… well, if she wasn’t afraid to touch her, she might have held her hand. There was something Haruka felt fondness for, under the claws and scales. If only…

Mina would interject there, Haruka knew. If there’s a big exception in the ‘everything’ you like about her, buddy, you don’t really like her.

But this was different, surely. This wasn’t someone who talked down to her or was a vegan or any of the other things that Mina had correctly predicted as dealbreakers. This was a bad situation, that Michiru clearly wanted out of. Maybe she didn’t say it, but Haruka knew.

She jumped up from bed and began to pace. There had to be something she could do. Haruka was handy. Haruka fixed all sorts of things. And maybe those things were inanimate, engines and toilets and the occasional bike chain, but really, she’d had to learn to do all those things, mostly through sheer stubbornness, so she could surely figure out a curse.

Usually, things weren’t really broken, they were just stuck or off track and needed guidance. Haruka looked out the window in the starry night and pondered. Michiru couldn’t tell her what was wrong, but neither could an engine. You had to take what signs you could and follow them to the problem.

What did she know? Michiru was cursed long ago, having once been beautiful. Beautiful and high class. She became something monstrous, and seemed to feel it was appropriate.

That was it! Haruka smacked the side of her head for not realizing sooner. She dashed from her room.

When Haruka had realized who she was, a lesbian and a butch one at that, she’d been afraid. She’d felt, well, monstrous. Inhuman. If there had been any magic in her small town world, it might have made her feelings real. And for Michiru, it had. It was so simple. No wonder Usagi and Makoto wanted them to spend time together. Michiru just needed to see it was okay!

She paused at the stairs that led to Michiru’s chambers. Part of her recognized the boundary, that there was one thing she was told not to do and therefore she should not do it. But surely-- Surely!-- Michiru would not mind if it turned her back to normal. She bounded up the stairs two at a time.

“Michiru!” She called at the top. Nothing. Haruka followed the hall to the first open door.

Unease crept over her. It was a bedroom, and for all she joked that she’d never see a room in worse shape than Minako’s, this one took the cake. Claw marks marred the stone walls, the bed clothes were strewn across the floor, which was also littered with glass. The vanity against one wall had a shattered mirror, and the items that likely belonged on its surface were knocked aside, half broken.

Haruka’s every instinct told her to run. But her every instinct told her to run every time she saw Michiru, and it was crucial to not give in to that impulse. So she pressed on through the next door, to a small room with a balcony.

Curiously, the only decor here was upright and in tact— just a small table, bearing a hand mirror. Haruka picked it up. It did not show her face in the glass, but Mina’s. She was in their apartment, reaching into their fridge. She handed someone— no, Haruka recognized the outreaching hand as her own— a beer. The mirror made no sound, but Haruka could read Mina’s expression well enough. Don’t you ever scare me like that again.

“Do you show the future?”

The mirror did not change. Haruka chose to take that as a good sign.

“Can you show me breaking the curse?”

The image blurred. It showed Haruka’s hand again, this time reaching for Michiru’s claw. She gave a start at the contact, looked afraid, but then light washed over her. As it faded Haruka saw she’d changed to what she must have looked like before, soft and gentle where she had been angular and cold.

“What are you doing?” Came a hiss from the shadows.

“It showed me breaking the curse!” Haruka set the mirror aside, ready to embrace Michiru. “I came to try, see, I thought maybe you needed to know it’s okay if you like women, and I don’t know if that’s right, but I’m going to do it!” Michiru still did not come forward into the moonlight. “I saw it, I just have to—“

“The mirror only shows you what you want to see.” Michiru’s voice was low. Fear shocked through Haruka’s bones, but she fought it down. “The events it shows will never come to pass.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” Haruka approached her slowly. She just had to take her claw in hand, and then… Her whole arm shook. “I just have to—“

Michiru rushed her as she had the first night, slamming her against the wall, one claw at her neck. “Do you think you know better than me? Do you think you are the first fool to think I could be something else?” Her claw wrapped around Haruka’s throat. “What, you saw a beautiful woman in the mirror,  and now you want her? You think I am something good, if only I did not scare you?”

She tossed Haruka to the floor.

“I will always scare you. It does not matter if I look like this or what you saw. I am not gentle and I am not kind. Those below me live on my mercy and I will not submit to anyone.” Michiru threw the mirror against the wall. It fell to the ground with a clatter, but did not so much as chip. “You will run, when you realize. I am not grateful for your efforts. I have loved and been loved and it does not matter.”

“But—“

“No.” Michiru struck the table aside. Haruka’s heart raced in her chest. “The people of the town turned against me because they knew what I was. I would not change for them or for love or for anything else. And I will not change for you.” She slithered back towards the door. “I have quite enjoyed your company, but I don’t wish to see you any longer. Keep out of my sight until you friend comes for you.”

Haruka lie on the floor, listening as she retreated. Panic gripped her too much to move. Panic, and pain.

“Oh Haruka,” came Usagi’s voice after a long while. “I told you not to come here.” She lifted Haruka gently, her cool touch easing the tender bruises before they fully formed.

“Have there been others like me?”

“Not many.” She pulled Haruka to lean against her body. It felt like a cloud. “You’ve done more than she expected. I don’t think any girl has tried this hard since she was human.”

“Can’t you tell me what you know?”

Usagi made a small, mournful hum. “Michiru thinks I’m stupid, and Mako tries not to, but she does too. But I can put things together pretty okay, so I know more than I’m supposed to.” She stroked Haruka’s hair with her fingers. “We were all pawns for her, to an extent. She’s genuinely fond of Mako and I, but we’re an anomaly. The townspeople, her suitors, everyone, she cared about only so far as what they could offer her. She wanted more than just a big house in a small town. And her family was so rich, she probably could have gotten it. But the town started to suspect she didn’t care about them, and times were changing. They elected a mayor, and he thought it would be strategic for Michiru to make a sign of goodwill. A marriage.” Usagi chuckled a little. “It’s strange the townspeople liked him, he was just as entitled as our lady. But she rejected him, very publically, and it was not wise to do so.”

“So he cursed her?’

“Oh no,” Usagi shook her head vigorously. “Don’t you know, curses are women’s work.”

“So then…” Haruka puzzled over it for a moment. “Who?”

“I pieced together the rest, so I’m missing details. But like I told you, I know all the places one might have a foray with a suitor in this house. And Michiru hand a small handful, all women.” Usagi tapped her fingers again the floor. “One had a brother, around Michiru’s age. I imagine she offered a marriage to him, to appease the town and so that they might stay together, lest MIchiru be driven out.”

“And Michiru turned her down?”

“Our lady would not think any common girl worth that sort of bargain, and she likely said as much.” Usagi sighed. “I want her to think you’re worth it. I don’t know if you can love her, but if she can love you… maybe it would be enough.”

“Will you be free, if she is?”

“I don’t know.” She became solid for a moment. Haruka felt comfort in the warmth of her skin. “I know, sometimes, that time has passed. I don’t know what’s left in the world for us. But I don’t want to stay here.” She faded again. “You can run away, if you want. I would, if I could.”

“I don’t think I could.” Haruka caught Usagi’s translucent hand in hers. “I don’t love her. I don’t know if I can. But sometimes, I kind of like her. And I like you. Someone should fight for you.”

Usagi squeezed her shoulders. “If anyone can fight for us, I think it’s you.”

[xenosaurus]

Vermilion City Pokemon Shelter (chapter 1)

Rating: T Tags: animal shelter setting, original characters, lesbian protagonist, worldbuilding

also available on ao3!

By this point in her career, Marianne Joy has learned to be wary of calm.  It’s the same for the shelter as it was for the pokemon center her mother worked at when she was growing up-- if things seem relaxed, that means you’re either missing something or it’s about to get very loud.

After 45 minutes of paperwork with no noise except for her Nidoking’s gentle snoring, Marianne is ready for an interruption.

Right on schedule, the receptionist knocks on the door.  Marianne knows it’s Lilo even before the door opens-- she’s the only one in the office who knocks like she’s setting the beat for a song.

“Yeah, Lilo, you can come in,” Marianne calls back.  Her Nidoking, curled up in the enormous pokemon bed set up next to her desk, makes a snuffling sound and lifts his head in response to her voice.  Marianne gives him a quick pat between the spines.

Lilo hovers in the doorway to Marianne’s office, an apologetic look on her face.  She’s a short young woman, dark-skinned and pretty.  She’s wearing orange lipstick today, the exact same shade as the trim on her uniform.

“Sooo, we have a situation.” Lilo draws out the word ‘so’ like she’s trying to delay having to actually finish the sentence.

Marianne puts down the paperwork she was reading with a sigh.

“Pokemon situation or people situation?”

“People situation,” Lilo says, grimacing. “Mrs. Bernard is here again.”

Marianne mirrors the sentiment.  She’s heard stories about this one, and it must be serious if Lilo came for backup.

Marianne gets up from her desk, grabbing a clipboard from the rack on the way out of the room.  Her Nidoking watches her sleepily, before deciding the situation isn’t worth sacrificing his nap.  He’s back asleep almost immediately.

“What’s the clipboard for, Mar?” Lilo asks, while Marianne takes a random packet of papers from her desk.

“Makes me look more official.  She’s obviously not scared of the damn Garchomp in the lobby, but maybe human authority will work.”

Marianne leaves her office.  Lilo follows her, and out of the corner of her eye, Marianne can see the receptionist’s shadow jump unnaturally.

“You have your Gengar free-roaming today?” Marianne asks as they walk down the hall towards reception.

“Yeah!  She’s doing so good, isn’t she?  She even came out from under my desk!” Lilo turns to address her own shadow, which currently shows no sign of concealing a pokemon as far as Marianne can tell.  “Did you hear that, Lucy?  You’re such a brave girl!”

Sure enough, Lilo’s shadow shifts in response, swaying side to side.  Marianne smiles.  This is a good pick-me-up right before she has to deal with entitlement personified.

“Ma’am, you really should go through the Good Start program.”

Shit, that’s Tyler.  Marianne turns to Lilo in alarm.

“You left Tyler alone with her?” she whispers.

“Peggy’s on lunch, somebody had to stay with her!” Lilo protests.  Marianne just sighs and pushes open the door.

“Hello, Mrs. Bernard.  How can I help you?” Marianne asks, customer service voice in full effect.

Mrs. Bernard is a middle-aged woman with the least practical fake nails Marianne has ever seen.  Tyler, the shelter’s volunteer coordinator, is a tall black man with a honeycomb tattoo on his wrist and braids pulled back with a yellow elastic.  His Ribombee, Daisy, is perched on his shoulder.  Behind the front desk, Lilo’s Torracat and Garchomp are watching the humans with a shared sense of boredom.

“Nurse Joy!  Finally, someone reasonable!” Mrs. Bernard exclaims, ignoring Marianne’s question entirely.

Lilo and Tyler exchange a look and Marianne resists the urge to throw the clipboard at their guest.

“Mrs. Bernard, as I’m sure you’ve already been told, we don’t have any pokemon that would be appropriate for your daughter--”

“I don’t see why I can’t go in and see for myself,” Mrs. Bernard interrupts, which greatly amplifies Marianne’s desire to throw something.

“I already explained the training class to her,” Tyler says, arms crossed over his chest.  Daisy starts patting his cheek with her tiny hands, trying to soothe him.  Tyler tilts his head into the gesture to acknowledge her efforts.

“She’s already taking lessons through the school!  She knows how to handle pokemon,” Mrs. Bernard argues.

“Ma’am, the pokemon we have here generally aren’t appropriate for a kid just starting out, especially if she isn’t going to have adult supervision,” Marianne explains, desperately willing this woman to understand.

“I know multiple families whose children got their first pokemon through your organization!” Mrs. Bernard is only getting more agitated, and Marianne really wishes she’d brought her Nidoking along after all.  Butch is good at looming until people stop yelling at his trainer.

“Oh, they probably got them from the Good Start event we hold in the fall!” Lilo jumps in to explain. “When we get very young pokemon or eggs, some of our fosters raise them special for the Good Start program so they’ll make perfect partners for new trainers.”

“And why can’t I have one of those pokemon?”

“Um.  Because they all go into the program.  So that kids from the smaller towns can get starter pokemon too.  The Good Start program finds trainers for them much easier than we could, so we really don’t keep suitable pokemon around unless Good Start’s doing one of their local events.  It’s mostly pokemon with issues or older pokemon that--”

“Then give me an older pokemon!”

Lilo’s good cheer falters a little, and her Torracat finally comes out from behind her desk.  He nuzzles her knee, then sits at her feet, glowering up at Mrs. Bernard.

“The older pokemon are rescues.  They have specific needs--”

“I know some of your pokemon come from retired trainers.  Those pokemon would make <i>great</i> partners for a new trainer!”

Lilo’s Torracat does not appreciate his trainer being interrupted.  He meows at Mrs. Bernard-- it isn’t terribly threatening, because he has a particularly small, cute meow, but Marianne is fully aware he’ll start spitting embers next.  As much as Marianne would love to see that, it probably wouldn’t be good PR for the shelter to light a visitor on fire.

“Ma’am.  I don’t mean to be rude, but we are not denying you a pokemon for your daughter out of spite.  I’ve seen otherwise tame pokemon take bites out of beginner trainers seemingly out of nowhere, because the kids don’t know the pokemon’s limits.  The pokemon in Good Start are trained from birth to be safe partners to young trainers who are bound to make mistakes.  Pay Good Start’s registration fee, or, if you can’t afford it, talk to someone at the pokemon center,” Marianne says, in a tone that brooks no argument.  Mrs. Bernard tries to interrupt her twice, but Marianne just talks over her.

That’s actually enough to make the woman falter, which Marianne takes as a victory.  After a moment, Mrs. Bernard speaks again, less indignant this time.  She isn’t addressing Marianne, having apparently decided Tyler is a safer conversational partner.

“So, um.  What was that you said about classes?”

Marianne groans.  Lilo’s mouth twitches like she’s trying not to smile.

“Come back with your daughter, then we’ll talk to her about classes,” Tyler says, staying remarkably calm.  Lilo loses the fight against her smile and covers her mouth with a hand instead.

*

“I can’t believe you told her to get her daughter.  I mean, you’re totally right, the ten-year-old is more likely to be reasonable, but it’s like telling a little kid to put mommy on the phone,” Marianne shakes her head and laughs.

Now that they’ve got Mrs. Bernard out of the building, she’s sitting across from Tyler in the break room.  They’re sharing a styrofoam container of greasy takeout stir fry, their pokemon eating lunch nearby.  Tyler’s Ribombee is sipping nectar from a special bottle, still sitting on his shoulder, while his Volcarona devours a large bowl of alfalfa on the floor.  Marianne’s Nidoking is snacking on some high-protein kibble (figy berry flavor), occasionally trading morsels with her Audino, who prefers the pecha berry blend.

“I don’t know what her problem with the Good Start program is,” Tyler complains, gesturing with his chopsticks.  He talks with his hands, even when there’s something in his hands.  Marianne has seen him point to things with a Caterpie before. “I wish they had that program when I was a kid!  My first Weedle stung me four times in my first week!”

“Probably would have helped if you hadn’t tried to hug him.  Don’t try to tell me you didn’t, I’ve known you for half a decade.”

Tyler points the chopsticks at Marianne.

“Bug pokemon are adorable and they deserve hugs.”

His Ribombee squeaks in agreement and throws her arms around Tyler’s neck.  He raises his free hand to pet her, grinning.

“See?  Daisy knows what’s up.  You too, right, Cinder?”

Tyler’s Volcarona makes a tiny chittering sound but doesn’t even pause in her quest to devour her bowl of sprouts.

“Admittedly, I also got poisoned a lot when I first started.  Hugging may have been part of the issue,” Marianne says, tilting her head towards her Nidoking. “But I had basic medical training.”

“Don’t rub it in,” Tyler says. “We can’t all come from globe-spanning families of doctors.”

“That woman knew my name without an introduction.  There are downsides.”

“Wait, you hadn’t met her?  Lilo seemed to think you had.”

“Nah, Peggy dealt with her last time, and Lilo got her out of here herself the first time.”

“Holy shit, Marianne, you shaved your damn head and you’re still getting recognized?”

“It’s the cost of my beautiful face.  Everyone I’m related to has the same one.”

“You should have taken your wife’s last name.  Maybe they’re reading it off your nametag.”

“Do I need to get out my family photos?  We all look identical.”

“Maybe it’s some kind of cloning--”

“Tyler, do not start with the cloning theory again.”

Tyler laughs and leans in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Come on, you don’t know--”

The door to the break room swings open.  Tyler startles mid-sentence and turns to look at whoever has interrupted the conversation.  It’s Peggy, the shelter’s adoption counselor, her Togetic fluttering over her shoulder and one of the Pichu she’s fostering tucked under her arm.  She has long brown hair and oversized glasses, a fashion choice Marianne has never fully understood.

“I’m gone for 20 minutes and I miss Mrs. Bernard?” she asks without offering a greeting, sounding affronted. “Did anyone die?”

Tyler laughs and pulls out a chair for her.

“Come sit, we’ll tell you everything.”