not-a-white-knight:

“I don’t think so.” It was only with targets and some peers that Mick could speak freely with. A certain amount of his speech had been altered regardless, made more formal just like so much about himself. Others of his own rank could generally understand, share stories of hunts with each other from time to time. Social instincts and ideals didn’t always survive training, and certainly hadn’t in Mick, but he could converse just fine even if incredibly stiffly.

With targets however it was different; if he was told to kill then he did so the second the opportunity was available.  If he was to bring them to the counsel for judgement and/or imprisonment however, then there was a chance he might speak– Mock, more like, but it was more likely for him to lock them away and not say or hear a word.

With Leonard it would take time. There was complete freedom but choices had to be made.  He had dreamed of this day for so long that now that it was in front of him he didn’t have a clue what he wanted.  Speculation and ideas were vastly different from reality, and the truth about the situation was that Chronos was fascinated watching him like this.

“You’re going to be here for a long time, Snart.”

     Of course not. Letting Leonard go would mean losing his hard-earned trophy. He knew that. It didn’t stop him from wanting to try and talk his way out of this. Fight his way out of it. Just find any way he could to escape.

      Though, any hope of that had faded from slim to none at the knowledge he had been handcuffed to the cot. For a moment, he sat in stony silence, working to keep his expression neutral even as he felt a rising wave of nausea roil inside his stomach, his heart rate quickening as he strained subtly against the cuff on his wrist, other hand holding onto it as though if he gripped it tight enough it would snap.

      Trapped. Like he had been so many times when Lewis decided to teach him a lesson by cuffing him to things; desk legs, pipes in the basement, it hadn’t mattered, not really. The memories resurfacing left his mouth dry and his chest tigh - but he refused to show as much.

      “Really? What for?” The words were bitten out in clipped, cold tones, all semblance of fear tucked safely away behind an icy facade. “Kill me and get it over with if that’s what you’re gonna do. Don’t waste my time and yours.”

Open

They were insane for handing him a child- absolutely out of their minds for trusting him but the little one was somewhat grounding.  Something he could focus on instead of what he’d just done.  What he lost, if he could even call it that. Was it loss if he killed them himself?  Or was it throwing something away? Either way had a lump growing in his throat and his chest tightening painfully- but there was a weight in his arms to think about.  That innocent little thing just come into the world that he was looking after for the time being.  He knew absolutely nothing about babies but it hasn’t even woken up yet, so he supposed that was fine.  All Mick really knew was that he was handed a delicate tiny person just after becoming a murderer and he wasn’t about to let it be hurt as well.  That would come later in life, he thinks solemnly.  Mick wouldn’t be the one to do it though, he wouldn’t screw up like that.  He couldn’t.

So here he sits on a crate with his eyes glued to the bundle as if he’d miss something and ruin the child by looking away, both arms busy cradling the small body to be sure he couldn’t possibly drop him.

      It was strange, almost, to see Mick younger. Of course, he had grown up with this kid - a little older than he was now, sure, but they had been in Juvie together not too long after what Mick had done. And now the kid Leonard had met in Juvie as a young teenager was cradling his infant self in his arms as though the baby was the most important thing in the world.

      At first, while the rest of the crew bickered, Leonard watched the teenaged version of his partner for a long while, hidden just out of sight. Watched how he carried the child with such caution, staring at it like it might break if he looked away too long.

      Before long, his desire to talk to his partner from years ago became too strong, and Leonard crossed into the room, settling down into a seated position a few feet away; near enough to talk, but not near enough to make the other feel crowded. “You look like you know how to handle babies. Much experience?”

[ @not-a-white-knight bc reasons ]

Finally having him in his clutches, it was a beautiful thing.  A victory indeed but not a sweet one.  There was so much potential now for what he could do to him.  How he may seek his revenge.  It felt so strange though to be before him.  To watch him sleep, locked up in a cell and handcuffed to the cot Chronos had laid him on.

He had him.

He had him to do whatever he pleased with.  Whatever would make him feel better.  Chronos thinks not for the first time of the younger man’s blood; slashes down his back from a whip Chronos would wield.  Just as had been done to him before.  So many things that had been done, and every last one could be replicated for revenge.  Yet as Leonard begins to stir, Chronos still does nothing but stare.

      Wakefulness came slowly, sluggishly; not normal for him, not normal at all. On the rare occasions he slept in, it was a possible happening, but normally he woke up with almost full clarity, ready to leap into anything if he had to. Not now, it seemed.

      A pain throbbed dully in his head. Brow furrowing, Leonard moved to rub at his temples - and his hand was jerked back by cold metal.

      All semblance of drowsiness shattered like glass and every nerve in Leonard’s body lit up with adrenaline-fueled energy as he sat upright abruptly, head turning to look down at his hand. Cuffed to the frame of an old cot. And this was not his safehouse nor was it his room on the Waverider. Memories came flickering back, even as he yanked sharply against the metallic bonds. They didn’t jostle loose or fall open - of course they didn’t, he hadn’t really expected them to.

      He lifted his head and went still when he realised he wasn’t alone. For a moment, the impenetrable mask he usually wore to hide emotions - such as the quiet fear he felt now - had faltered, but he carefully constructed it again, even as some of that fear became replaced by white hot fury. “Let me out of here.”

@bethewhitecanary: #((DO YOU ONLY LOG ONTO LEN TO ANSWER PAIN AND STARTERS FOR HIS AND SARA’S TWINS?????))

I mean I haven’t answered anything on here in ages despite wanting more threads over here so honestly probably

No, literally, I have 2 things in the queue for you and one is Len trying and failing to teach Lily about crime.

The last time you answered a thing for me it was like pain with fem!Mick and the thread where Lily and Luke are haunted by the ghost of their abusive grandpa.

You only come over here to do pain and dad stuff.

That’s because you’re really the only one who sends or writes Len stuff, and that’s what you write him lmao. I think the only other person who has sent me stuff is a few things form Miles’ Mick over here. That’s it. 

So yeah I only respond to dad stuff and pain and a bit of fluff because that’s literally all I have over here lmao

Send “👀” to find my muse wearing nothing but an oversized shirt.

Send “+👀 “ for the reverse. 

Send ‘rough touch’

and the generated outcome will be used for a small drabble scenario or starter { tw violence, possible noncon/dubcon implications, nsfw }

@mancnfire + Mick needs Soft

     Lazy nights were far less common than they  should be. Typically, jobs were pulled at night, and the day was for napping, typically wherever they ended up - on the sofas, in beds, in the armchair, wherever they settled down after a heist to count money or let the racing adrenaline wear off.

      Tonight, though, there were no heists to pull and no jobs to plan out. Just the quiet sound of the television playing just a few levels above muted in the corner in front of the bed and the sounds of Mick’s breathing.

      Leonard’s hands lazily repositioned themselves from where they were folded on his chest as he turned slightly on his side. Eyes still half-shut, he lethargically shifted into the right position to cup Mick’s face in one hand, pressing a lazy kiss to the crown of his head before settling down again. 

      One hand slid lower to idly stroke slow circles along the other’s belly, giving a quiet hum. “Are you even watching the television right now, big guy, or are you sleeping?” The words were teasing, spoken in a light air, as he looked at his partner through nearly-closed eyes.

He was more content now than he had been in a long time. Mick wasn’t the type to worry over things that didn’t genuinely matter to him, at least on some level. He learned as he aged to take life easy.

He learned his first time in prison how easily things could go wrong, how sudden. He learned even earlier than that how easily life could be taken. He wasn’t going to waste his time being hung up on pointless things.

He also was not immune to weight falling on his back regardless, even if most entirely drawn from his own mind.

Relaxing with his partner, it was refreshing.  They weren’t incredibly cuddly people, but for Mick at least it was simply not caring much one way or the other, happy with whichever result he should get.  At the moment with Leonard’s hand rubbing his somewhat soft stomach, he isn’t sure how much longer he will be awake.  “Will be soon if you keep this up.”

      The two of them were hardly what could be called a ‘domestic couple’. That term was about as far from a person’s mind upon seeing them as one could get - two criminals, both imposing, both willing to go to tremendous lengths to get what they wanted... any sort of domestic vibes were wholly unpresent.

      And Leonard would say that it was all very unpresent anyway: domesticity, that is. Moments of affection, though; those happened sometimes, on good days, when stress and anger and irritation was, for once, gone and left behind only calmness.

      For someone whose mind never stopped, those moments - rare and fleeting - were treasure for Leonard. He tended to cling to them for as long as he could; he liked to be challenged, he liked to think through problems, but sometimes he relished simply being able to let go and relax - however rare that might be.

      So tonight, he decided not to overthink it too much and to just enjoy the time spent with his partner. He exhaled a soft huff of laughter, settling back down against his pillow, but still curled close enough to Mick that he could keep stroking at the other’s stomach. “You’re allowed to sleep, Mick. Or did you need some help?"

anyway can you believe on this day william shatner confirmed mick rory as the best character on lot EVER 

@gentlydean @seiya-starsniper @foolsdiamond IT

IS

S P O K E N

HAH! FUCKIN CONFIRMED

- requested by @jq-piccadilly

send one to see how my muse reacts  /  soft edition.