@blackandredequaldead / blackandredequaldead.tumblr.com
Hey, long time no see, Tumblr. I know I’ve been kinda ghost the last couple years, but with all the changes that the site underwent, it drove me away. Now, I’m back with a bit of a desperate plea. If you can’t donate, anything helps, even just one reblog or share to someone you know! The more circulation, the better! Thank you guys so much! <3
ɪɴᴅɪᴇ ᴅᴇᴀɴ ᴡɪɴᴄʜᴇsᴛᴇʀ ᴄᴀɴᴏɴ & ɴᴏɴ-ᴄᴀɴᴏɴ sᴇᴍɪ-sᴇʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴏᴄ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅʟʏ
okay. so. this was absolutely out of my control, and everyone should blame A Quiet Place for causing this, but my Dean muse has gone batty. as batty as Batman, folks. secret lairs and everything.
okay, so. I’m here. I’m officially logged into this beautiful man of scars and wonderment, b u t. for the day and maybe the week, I’ll be most present on my Dean. I’m gonna throw out that weak promo of him one more time, and then bounce over there to start working on a verse for that kickass movie.
throw him some love, he’s new to the magical, mystical world of tumblr. mwah ♥ see you there, lovelies!
holy snap crackle and pop ( this is a phrase I’ve fallen in love with and no one can make me stop saying )
so there’s a battle waging in my head between Dean & Wade
& just ‘cause I’m a glutton for punishment ( be careful, I bite in the fun way, too ), how about we make this a starter call kinda night? be watching for a call from both sides of the universe, loves! one with ghosts and specters, and one with psychos and bullet holes!
oh, & you guys are the bomb diggity. mwah ♥
ɪɴᴅɪᴇ ᴅᴇᴀɴ ᴡɪɴᴄʜᴇsᴛᴇʀ ᴄᴀɴᴏɴ & ɴᴏɴ-ᴄᴀɴᴏɴ sᴇᴍɪ-sᴇʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴏᴄ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅʟʏ
snap, crackle, pop, guys! look who came back! fuckin’ asshole with a mouth, that’s who! and Wade, too!
aw, but for real. he might not stick around too long, but after a little glimpse at the new trailer for DP2, he’s definitely itching for a comeback. and most definitely in the fun way
anywhozit, how is everyone? shit, it’s been centuries. legit almost a year. maybe two! oof, this walking tumor o’ mine really never wants to leave me be. not even when I need some alone time. well, so, consider this a comeback post!
kinda. sorta. maybe. I have to make a promo for this bad boy to truly cement it. and even then, he might skedaddle if a dean winchester happens. which, maybe. who knows. the spn fandom is p. crazy right now, and this home girl is intimidated easily. I’m but a minnow in a sea of great whites, and I’ll have you know I swim like Nemo!
well, tomato, tomahto. hi, guys! long time no see! I’ve missed ya’ll a lot, & Wade, too. hit up that spicy little IM if you guys want to plot shit out, or if you guys wanna yell at me for vanishing. I’m down to clown for either option. and hey, thanks to those that stuck around when I disappeared from here. you guys are troopers & I love ya’ll ♥
uh. so. I suck dick & I’m a bad person & I love you guys & need advice? hmu in my IM if anyone’s still there? this might be a comeback post? there are a lot of question marks in this update post? you guys should definitely read them like jillian from family guy? with that weird inflection at the end? that turns everything into a question?
uhm. so. i’m the worst and for some reason i have three muses in my head at once so it’s a jumbly mess and shitfire. this might be a semi-hiatus notice on pools for a little bit? i mean, i’m still here, i’m just. ya’ know. now HERE. uh. buuuuut.
i have a discord? and i’m game for anyone coming to chat me up there? i’m slow answering ‘cause i have the tab muted ‘cause i wear headphones 24/7 on my laptop but my phone dingles when i get messages and i try my hardest to respond back immediately so like? that’s definitely a plus?
okay. so. don’t freak like i may have a couple of times in the past week or two, but possible hiatus for the time being on wade? maybe a continuation of rocket or my loveable geoff that likely none of you darling lovelies know about? u h m . . . fingers crossed? i love you guys always and forever and please don’t hate me?
The Hitman’s Bodyguard (2017)
a to z of favourite characters: Negasonic Teenage Warhead
↳ fuck, you’re old.
So good, but bad for the waistline if you know what I’m talking about.
female awesome meme ♡ [1/10] females in a movie
I’ve played a lot of roles, damsel in distress ain’t one of them. — vanessa carlysle (deadpool)
okay, so, not ALL that I wanted to throw out tonight, but my eyes are betraying me, so for the next couple minutes/hour, I’m gonna be non-stop queuing posts to be thrown out while I’m sleeping & not here! fingers crossed I’ll be back tomorrow to throw out some more replies! sorry, loves! ♥
Feigning ignorance soon lost its charm. Fenris was quick to be bored, and he decided that enough was enough. He turned, his fangs bared, a loud howl rising and echoing into the distance. Several howls were made in reply: acknowledgement of his call for backup.
“What is it that fuels your steps? What has made you decide to hunt a HUNTER?”
Though he never spoke out loud, he directed his words towards the stranger’s mind. Most thought it a trick, but he wasn’t just like any other wolf in the Nine Realms. He could think, feel, and speak. If it weren’t for his wolfish form, he may be considered ‘normal’.
And like THAT everything went 180° and he was surrounded by a deafening howl, followed by softer, distant sounds leaking into the corners of his hearing. Howling all around, essentially, with the sole owner of the call staring directly at him, fangs bare, somehow speaking to him.
Swallowing a bit nervously, he idly awaited the voices and their always insightful inputs, but alas, all that greeted him mentally was silence, leaving him in what was basically the darkness, alone. Well, shit. Might as well take this in a direction any ‘‘HUNTER’’ would.
“There’s a CONTRACT on your head. I was asked to C O L L E C T.”
He was really never a fan of hunting for sport, though. Much more for necessity or survival. And with survival and necessity came respect for that which would become a meal or supply assistance in a shelter. Not exactly the same situation now, no, but it was close enough.
That arm around his waist (holy shit, this guy’s muscles are harder than I thought!) had Peter making sure he wasn’t frowning. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the warmth, because God knew Deadpool was like a living sun in comparison to his forever frozen ass, but he took a moment to figure out what was happening. Thankfully, the only alarm bell ringing belonged to the jewelry store itself.
He wanted to laugh. Why in the world was Deadpool inviting him onto his back? Peter wanted to curl up as his cheeks heated, no doubt causing him to blush.
“Got it. No puking. I think.” Yeah, he could totally do this. Putting his hands on the man’s shoulders, Peter carefully wrapped himself around the mercenary and tried not to snicker. He was practically a backpack compared to what the guy had on otherwise. “Wait, why would I get motion sick if I’m on your back?”
As soon as the question left him, he felt his stomach lurch and an uneasy sensation of being pulled had his hold tightening. This was not how he’d planned to leave. The pulling lasted only for a few seconds but Peter felt the nausea threatening to become a larger issue when the siren and alarm bells sounded further away. Was he imagining them now?
Taking a shaking breath, Peter sighed and forced himself to swallow. “Alright, what was that? Where are we? How did you do that?” A million more questions burst through his mind as Peter put his legs down, a hot throb of pain reminding him of the wound.
With the position it was in, he’d have to remove his pants in order to dig it out. The bathtub at home was a great spot if he could manage to get there before May clocked out. And, if it were embedded in bone, he could ugly cry on his own while yanking the thing out and not worry about his manliness.
Win-win scenario.
He shook his head abruptly and waved his own questions off. “Science later, medical now,” he muttered. “Don’t suppose you have tweezers on you, do you? I could use pliers too. Just whatever’s thinnest and easier to use. Ah… You’re not uncomfortable with partial nudity, are you?” God, it was a damn good thing he remembered to wear his underwear that day.
It felt like fire. No matter how often he did it in his younger years of wearing a mask and tending to baddies with bullets and slashes, it never got easier, and he never felt any better than shit. But, one thing he prided himself on after a successful teleportation? Not puking everywhere. That was a definite positive in the long run, for both his mask’s sake, his own sake, and for Al’s sake, 90% of the time. There were only so many times Wade could apologize for ruining a perfectly nice rug with vomit before a crazy blind woman beat the shit out of him...again.
And when the ripping and tearing of his innards stilled and everything came to a comfortable stop, it hurt to breathe but nothing expelled from his lips minus soft pants. True, it was technically the belt that was at fault ( and Cable, the dickmouth ) but that didn’t matter. What mattered was the lack of stomach contents and the shaky questions being thrust his way as the injured hero steadied himself upon the ground. Ground. They were on ground. Huh. What did he have it calibrated to, again?
“Teleporting, no clue, BELT.”
Taking his own moment to steady himself and his stuttering system, the mercenary sent masked eyes around the room they were in, before a faint curse echoed into the air. One of his older apartments. One of the nicer ones, at that. Great. Just fucking great.
“MY PLACE, I guess.
How’s the leg, SPIDEY?”
She hadn’t ever really interacted with the police before. Of course, she had a few patrons from the force, the chirpy rookie, the sergeant with four beautiful grandkids, people she’d stopped seeing as the law and started perceiving for their lives outside the precincts. But she knew for an absolute fact that she wouldn’t be this relaxed around them if they’d saved her. She certainly wouldn’t be joking about it. The world definitely seemed to need more people like her hooded hero. It felt good to make a joke of it properly, rather than the quick quips and eager anecdotes they’d made in Hydra, things to cling to rather than laugh at.
“That’s me, Queen Ashley of Stanley’s Diner!” She grinned, reaching up to pat an imaginary curled bob of hair. “I left my crown back in my apartment.” The nameless man was like a magnet, drawing out the joy she once believed she’d feel constantly in this city. Between that and saving her life, would she ever stop owing him?
His continued performance ensured her smile stuck around for a while longer, and she even extended her arms, lifting imaginary skirts and curtseying to the invisible masses. “I’ll bring a few business cards next time, hand them out so people know. Wouldn’t want a mugger to make a mistake!” She joked, shaking her head forlornly.
“You’re a modern day genius! Do you have a doctorate in urinology or is it more of a fine art you’ve honed over the years?” She wondered aloud, feeling a faint sadness as they drew closer to the apartment building. Once she went inside, the relaxed happiness would fade, replaced once again by the worries of rent, bills, and other costs of surviving in the city. No more joking with the friendly hero, once she closed her door.
But at least she could pay the bills now. Right?
To say he roared in laughter would be relatively accurate, though he always enjoyed referring to the joyous sound as a laugh born of an unlikely camaraderie; a laugh only friends heard, only those close to him could ever cause, and how she managed to join that list without even a flutter of her lashes or a particularly impressive feat, per Weasel nearly setting his hair aflame trying to do some asinine stunt to make the emptier nights guffaw, he hadn’t a clue and he didn’t really care to know. Embrace that which one would otherwise disregard, or something like that. Philosophical shit, etc., etc.
As they neared the building in question, he considered mentioning that he lived there as well, that he wasn’t going to be creepy by actually walking her to her door if she wished, but something continued to gnaw at him and force him to bury that want. Perhaps he could blame it on insecurities of her reaction, or even that she knew who lived in that building, what kind of a man occupied the lower floor, what that man did in his day-to-day life, what that man looked like under the mask and the hood.
What if he was the boogeyman she always feared crossing paths with on the way to the mailboxes? The thought alone nearly made him sigh and lose that warm smile she’d given him with no effort. Besides, once that door of her apartment closed and there stood an obstruction between their current revelry, what could he do? It wasn’t like he could drop by the coming morning to ask her to lunch or if she’d like company to work, or even to tell her that if she needed anything, she could call him, beep him, reach him in any shape or form she could. Nope. Once that door closed between them, his new friend would be nothing but a fond memory to keep him from pulling another trigger.
Eventually, good times come to an end and the main door of the building was mere feet away, glaring at him and staring like some...vile mockery of what he couldn’t have, what would never TRULY be his. Where the sigh previously stayed at the wayside, softly, he let one out and slowed to a stop to face her, an almost pained grin on his lips.
“THE WADE EXPRESS™ has officially made
it’s most important STOP of the night.”
