#Enver deserves the chance I got

[noirsongbird]

man, sometimes you start plotting out an AU, and you realize that it is going to be of interest to basically no one, so you sigh and decide that it stays on the discord forever

[little-tyrant-gortash]

My favourite part in it that she says "I deserve to live again - I deserve my own life!" After she admitted she sent her son straight to the hells.

"Still bitter after all these years." GODS just IMAGINE how angry he still could be if it's been YEARS. 😩 And he carries that within him every single day. How could you trust others when your own parents sold you off like a piece of meat? When a fucking shop they COULD'VE SOLD TO PAY OFF THEIR DEBTS was more important than his life?! A child should feel safe with their parents, and that was ripped away from him. "What choice did we have?" I'd do anything for my daughter, ANYTHING. I'd rather sell myself than her. Gods damn. It's so heavy. 😩

And I don't agree with Karlach at all. A child isn't born evil. A child sees the example and follows that. That forms their personality, their own environment. Karlach grew up as a poor kid but her parents were good, she loved them and they loved her. I see no love for Enver at all. "He was a smart boy - too smart" as if it's a crime to be smart, "we got good coin for him", as if it'd make it any less bad! HE WAS A CHILD, HE DESERVED TO FEEL SAFE. I hate this.

And you know, what? It must've been his father's idea. It must've been his father who agreed to the transaction and followed it through.

Enver showed at least a little mercy to his mother. She could at least keep some of herself, with the chance of getting it back some day. But his father? Not for him.

[balder614]

Pacts Are For More Than Devils

Here’s the next one shot! This time, we’ve got Durgetash and a couple shenanigans. Warning for mentions of harm and blood, you have been warned.

Not remembering who you were was a hard thing to go through. Not remembering who you had loved and who was family was even worse. Especially when that family demanded a very bloody reunion.

Orin had the somewhat short male tiefling trapped in the dungeon below Enver Gortash’s home. A tiefling that had survived a Nautiloid crash. Survived Moonrise towers. Survived defying the gods.

She had infiltrated the camp and kidnapped him with ease, much to his surprise. Kilil’s sleep had been more restful than in years…had she somehow put a sleeping draught in his drink while at the Elfsong Tavern? His mind flitted in search of memories from the night prior. A handsome, tall human male had bought him a drink. After that…he couldn’t remember much.

Kilil groaned quietly, pain and anger coursing through him. Anger at his own foolishness and pain from the lashings all along his back and cuts all over his body.

Orin had left him there for the night, intent on bringing his memories back before crushing him like a bug. He couldn’t remember anything from his past. Not even if Orin had been a kind sibling, which he severely doubted.

Footsteps slowly sounded down the nearby stairs, making Kilil tense up. His arms were raised above his head by chains and his stomach was to the wall. He had on only a set of blue, bloodied boxers to cover his most intimate places from the view of whoever had just come downstairs.

“I had a feeling she was doing something down here. No doubt trying to get the Flaming Fists or Harpers to investigate. I can’t even be away from home for a day.”

Kilil felt goosebumps raise all along his sensitive blue skin. That deep voice, the sigh, he knew who it was. Enver Gortash himself. A low growl rumbled in his chest, despite how his body reacted strangely like he wanted to be held by the dark knight.

“You expect me to believe you didn’t order this?” he sneered, voice cracking occasionally due to pain.

Enver let out a deep chuckle. He walked closer to the Mephistopheles tiefling, looking him over to examine the damage.

“If you believed me, I would normally say you are a fool. However, if you wish to return to your camp, I suggest an alliance~” Bane’s chosen cooed.

“Alliance?” Kilil panted, “what sort of alliance?”

Enver uncorked a bottle of healing potion that he kept in his pocket for emergencies. The mouth of the bottle was held to the tiefling’s lips, coaxing him to drink. And drink he did, feeling immediately better as the potion took effect to heal his body.

“An alliance where we team up. I join your camp, help protect it from Orin’s intrusive followers and Orin herself, and you help me gain the netherstone from Bhaal’s chosen. I’m sure your father wants you to kill her and take your inheritance, yes~?”

Kilil let his head hang, tears welling in his eyes. “I need to kill her, but I don’t want to be Bhaal’s son. Not at all.”

Enver carefully unlocked the restraints before pulling the tiefling close to his chest, enjoying feeling the muscles in Kilil’s back tensing against his clothed body. He brought his head down to nose against the warlock’s ear, watching as each exhale made it twitch.

“From this moment, in return for your freedom from Orin, you. Are. Mine.”

~~~~~

When they had first returned to the Elfsong Tavern, everyone was ready to kill Enver, deal or not. But Kilil quickly stopped them. They had all given him a second chance, despite what he had done to Alfira, which meant Enver deserved a chance to show he wanted to help Balder’s Gate.

The first thing he did to prove that was release Ulder Ravengard from captivity, much to Mizora’s dismay.

The second was to show how he could spot shapeshifters due to having known Orin for so long.

The third was to help Kilil learn about his own shapeshifting abilities. Of course, that led to Astarion nearly murdering the poor tiefling when he had accidentally taken the form of Cazador. He hadn’t known who Enver was describing to him as he changed forms.

It took time, but Astarion came around again and forgave them for the scare. Wyll was willing to participate in the alliance, but remained wary. Karlach, however, stayed as far away from the chosen of Bane as she possibly could.

Kilil had the group set up camp nearby a forgotten watch tower. His own sleep space was up at the top of the tower to keep everyone safe from his murderous tendencies he fought.

The sound of a scorching whirlwind sounded behind him and he sighed, turning to face the cambion he’s made a pact with. The devil sired by a human woman and Mephistopheles himself. Raphael.

“Well well, a deal with the black hand of Bane, hmm? How does daddy feel about that one~?” the cambion teased.

Kilil turned to him, irritated and trying to keep his mind in the present. It was hard to do when the call of blood circled around his mind.

“Just because you are my patron, doesn’t mean I must listen to your theatrics,” the tiefling quietly growled in agitation. “As for Bhaal, I refuse to accept him as my father. I am not a murderer.”

“An, but you once were. And quite a beautiful display you would make of your victims~”

“Which he still could, should you continue to pester my beloved,” Enver spoke from behind the cambion. He had been listening in on their conversation.

Raphael knew when he was beat…for a time. He quickly retreated with a whirl of sulfur and flames, leaving the two men alone.

Kilil turned to face the balcony. His body was tense and he quietly gulped. He didn’t want to be reminded of what he had once been. Murder made him sick to his stomach. Suddenly, arms wrapped around his waist. Arms that felt very familiar, yet foreign at the same time.

“You don’t have to return to those old ways if you don’t wish to. Truly, I rather like this you. Soft, sincere, and easy to tease~” he cooed in the tiefling’s pointed ear.

“E-Enver!” Kilil exclaimed in embarrassment. His name tumbled from his lips easily, a slip of the tongue he felt accustomed to, despite not remembering saying it before.

Enver gently cupped the warlock’s chin, turning his face ever so slightly, and placed a kiss on his cheek.

“I’ve missed hearing my name from your lips.”

Kilil turned his head to look away. It would take some getting used to, but perhaps he could become comfortable with Enver once more.

[countlessrealities]

@dynamoprotocol sent: 🤪 (Rick to Clarissa, present day maybe? :’>) Random drunk texts || Accepting !

Late nights were a common occurrence for Rick. He had never kept a decent sleeping schedule, not even as a teen, and good sleep was something he hadn't experienced in decades. His mind was always running, the past constantly haunting him. Not to mention the nightmares.

Biting back a heavy sigh, the scientist rested his chin over his crossed arms. In front of him there were several empty glasses that the bartender still hadn't collected, together with his latest refill. Maybe he should have just asked for a whole damned bottle. He was pretty sure that he had drained at least two already since he had gotten there. And he was aiming to down at least as many before calling it a night.

Ice blue eyes fixed on the bright orange liquor that filled the glass. His head felt too light, even if his mind was still heavy with unwanted thoughts. No matter how hard he tried, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her since they had bumped into each other, again, the day before.

A scoff left his lips, bitterness spreading in his chest, its bite cold and pungent. He was doing this on purpose, wasn't he? After all, he loved tormenting himself, a punishment for all he had failed to achieve and for all the chances he had missed or turned to rot. And Clarissa? She was both, just as Unity had been before her.

It was always the same story, with all his most important past lovers. He loved them, poisoned them and then he ran when things got hard, refusing to take his part of responsibility. And meeting them again always resulted in disaster.

However, he had learnt his lesson from the last time. After the hive mind had rejected him, not wanting to find themselves dragged back in his destructive orbit, he had been left heartbroken all over again. He would not make the same mistake again.

The knot in his chest tightened and he reacted by pouring the contents of his glass down his throat, as if he had been trying to wash away a sickening taste. It didn't work, but he had expected it. No matter how much alcohol he drank or how many drugs he took, the relief was always fleeting.

The sigh this time slipped out of him before he could stop it. Damn, he was miserable, wasn't he?

His eyes fell on the phone he had set on the counter next to him. He should have left it at home, because now he was getting all the sorts of stupid drunken ideas, but he couldn't really bring himself to care. Maybe it was the liquor, or maybe it was the pettiness. Since he was drowning in his own grief, he refused to be the only one to hurt.

[text] i wish i had enver seen you again [text] cant stop thinkign about it. about us, back then [text] i was better off prentendign to have forgotten you [text] it was fucking easier nto to have to deal with hwo i feel [text] way to come back adn fuckin ruin my shitty life [text] but i bet yuo think i deserve it...maybe i do

[musezieren]

Sirius had learned a lot from his father, to catch someone's attention, one needed to act outside of the box. Especially the powerful, the ones that had everything could get bored of life.

"If you say so, I'll make myself more comfortable..." his smile growing wider. But instead of leaning back into the seat and relaxing he moved forward. Stood up again instead lean onto the desk.

"The thrones of most Gods are vagrant..." he started, and then there was a knee on the desk as he was like a cat half stalking over it to get to his prey Enver. "I am certain, with the knowledge we hold, and some that are hidden in the past... we can fill those seats with the more deserving..." his long eyelashes lowered themselves for a half-lidded gaze.

"And I gladly help you to get there... as long as you help me, and my family, too..." Sirius slowly licked his lips.

"... to sweeten the deal, because I know you have more to lose, I can sweeten the deal somewhat, if you wish, Sir..." Sirius Tail was slowly swaying from side to side. Calm, calculated, until a shiver went through it as he leaned closer to the billionaire.

"I can give you ALL I have... my mind... and body... that is worth much more than what any of my peers can offer, don't you think so?" his voice lowered to a whisper. Oh, the Tiefling knew he was risking a lot. But this was a turning point for him. He could try to win this game, this one chance he got. Or lose it. And if he lost, he'd prefer after he gave his all.

And he found the man attractive in a way that was new to him. He had slept with many people, many powerful. But none had such dark eyes as Enver... he wanted to gauge them out and keep them on a necklace...

Artificer Securities, a sub-section of Bane International, worked often with interns from the best colleges. Seldom did the internships involve interacting directly with Enver Gortash himself. This was an exception, so he had taken it upon himself to look through the applicants personally. He knew the student he 𝑂𝑈𝐺𝐻𝑇 to accept– one of the sons of one of Jannath's many cousins– with little promise and all the connections. While Jannath had almost as many stocks in the company as Enver did, her extended family were as much a 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 as she was. Enver didn't have any intention of taking on babysitting a petulant child with the right surname.

But of all the applicants, only four had had the nerve to request a private meeting be put on the books with Gortash, and of the four, he had only accepted one. The young man that had caught Enver's attention had done so not only with good looks and a stunning portfolio, but Enver had found his research into artificial intelligence powered through the weave to be a cut above that of his peers. 𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄. 

❝ You don't need to be so formal. ❞ Gortash rose from his seat and walked around his desk to shake the tiefling's hand. Once the firm handshake was exchanged, Gortash sat on the edge of his desk and motioned for Sirius to take a seat in the chair. ❝ It's good of you to come in. There are only a few applicants I'm interested in, so I'd like to hear what you have to say. ❞

He was still above Sirius in height but able to get a closer look at the only applicant to really catch his 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛. He liked what he saw, liked the sound of his voice, and appreciated the ability to read his mood from the movements of his tail– the younger man was nervous, but not overly so, from what he could glean. A 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 mix of confident and wary.

[jaskiers-sweetkiss]

Worth It

Pairings: Dousy, background Pepperony, FitzSimmons, Philinda, Mackelana, and Huntingbird  

Word Count: 2.8K

Warnings: mentions of violence, mentions of gun use, mentions of ptsd, light swearing

a/n: Here’s my soulmate au for day 6 of @aosficnet2 ‘s AoS AU August! It’s got Modern Man!Daniel Sousa based on Enver’s appearance as a police officer in The Avengers. 

___

Daisy “Quake” Johnson - Inhuman, hacker, Agent of SHIELD, and now she could add “Avenger” to her list of descriptors. The agent hadn’t been entirely surprised when she’d received an impromptu meeting with Director Nick Fury about her powers. At the time he had told her he was putting together a team, a group of people with super-human abilities that would work together to defend the world if the threat arose. She had signed on, she was already a SHIELD agent and she’d had plenty of training with her ability from her mom growing up at Afterlife, but she never met the team. Well, until about 24 hours ago. They were a bit of a nightmare (a complete shitshow if she was being blunt), none of them had worked together before so it was no surprise that they were butting heads. Daisy got along just fine with Natasha Romanoff aka the Black Widow as the two of them had crossed paths from time to time within SHIELD, but she couldn’t say the same for scientist Bruce Banner (the Hulk), billionaire Tony Stark (Iron Man), or the first-ever superhero Steve Rogers (Captain America). Of course, now they were also dealing with a Norse god of thunder who was supposedly good and his brother who was apparently bad. Thor, Stark, and Rogers: three massive egos in one aircraft. 

Judging by the footage they were streaming from the museum Loki was more than just bad. Daisy had always been wary of powers, her mom had taught her that. Power was extremely dangerous when put in the wrong hands, that’s why Afterlife was so selective in choosing who got to go through terrigenesis. Loki was clearly the wrong hands and even though she really hated the men she was surrounded with, if they were the world’s only hope then she’d put up with them. 

“So you expect me to believe there is life on other planets?” 

Daisy sighed, trying not to get too frustrated. The man had been in the ice for seventy years, he missed a lot and probably had no reason to expect that “aliens” existed. Of course, she had known the truth since she was a child: not only was it highly probable that life existed elsewhere in the galaxy, but she was part-alien herself. Of course, no one else knew that. Inhumans were a secret from the rest of the world and it would need to stay that way. 

“Oh, I’m sorry Seismic Activity, did you know that already?” Stark asked sarcastically, raising a brow at her and she rolled her eyes. 

“It’s Quake, actually, and yeah, I knew that, statistically, it was highly probable that alien life exists,” she bit back, glaring at the man, “Just about everyone in this century knows that.” 

“Agent Johnson if you have some sort of issue with when I was born then you should just come out and say it,” Cap said, a frown on his face as he sat up in his chair. 

“Look, I couldn’t give two shits whether you were born yesterday or a thousand years ago, I just don’t think we really have time to be debating extraterrestrial life right now,” Daisy said, fighting the urge to roll her eyes again as she gestured to the holoscreen displaying Loki’s cell.  

“She’s right, gear up.” Director Fury said. Daisy wasn’t sure when he had entered but she was glad he was taking her side. “We’re under attack.” 

Daisy nodded, rushing out of the room to find her gauntlets and her weapons. It wasn’t a great idea to quake on a giant helicarrier so she’d probably be fighting old school. 

“Woah, what the hell is that Johnson?” Natasha Romanoff was sneakier than Fury and Daisy hadn’t even known she was in the room until her wrist was tightly in the woman’s grasp. 

She sighed, tugging her arm out of the redhead’s grip and slipping on her gauntlet to cover the writing. The marks weren’t uncommon, most of the world had them. They developed at age 16 and were usually the first words your soulmate said to you. However, not everyone got one or soulmates died and SHIELD specialized in utilizing the soulmark-less. That’s not to say there weren’t agents with soul marks in the organization, for ordinary agents SHIELD held a mostly don’t ask, don’t tell policy. Typically the only way to get into high-risk assignments like the Avengers was to prove the lack of a soulmate, but of course, the Avengers were less than typical. 

“They make exceptions for people with powers.” She brushed it off, slipping on her other gauntlet. 

“That doesn’t change the fact that you’re connected to someone,” Natasha argued and Daisy huffed, turning away. 

“Stark’s got a mark, and he’s actually met his soulmate. If something happens to me mine’ll never know what they missed.” 

Daisy quickly slid her various knives and guns into place in their holsters before leaving, effectively putting an end to one of the worst conversations she’d had in a while. She didn’t need the Black Widow to guilt-trip her, she had herself for that. She’d heard the stories about the pain people felt when their soulmate died and it often kept her up at night, but right now she had a job to do and she’d be damned if she sacrificed the world for one person she hadn’t even met. 

Of course, her dedication to the cause hadn’t mattered much, she still wound up on the floor of the helicarrier with Phil Coulson bleeding out. She didn’t know the man super well, but he was usually the agent present whenever an 0-8-4 was discovered and since Daisy was something of an 0-8-4 herself, they crossed paths pretty frequently. She knew he was an upstanding and kind man, she knew he was a good agent, and she knew he didn’t deserve to die like this. 

It wasn’t long until Fury came and swept him away and Hill ushered her back into the briefing room where some of the others were gathered. They all looked worse for wear and apparently they were about ready to give up. The Hulk was gone, Loki had jettisoned Thor from the airship, and he has the tesseract and would likely be taking over earth shortly. Daisy couldn’t believe it. 

“I just watched several good agents die, and you want to throw in the towel? Do you have any respect for yourselves?” She questioned, glaring at Rogers and Stark. 

She stormed out when she was met with silence, passing Fury in the hallway. She wanted desperately to change out of her skintight Quake suit and get cleaned up, but she wasn’t ready to give up the fight yet, opting instead to unzip the top half, tying the sleeves around her waist. She wandered around the ship like that, her sports bra the only thing covering her torso, before finding herself on the top deck, leaning over a railing. 

“Have you met them yet?” 

Daisy turned to see Rogers gesturing to her wrist where the words “Who the hell are you?” were written in a neat script. 

“Nah,” she shook her head, barely concealing her disappointment with a smile. 

“You’ll find them eventually, or they’ll find you.” He gave her a tight-lipped smile.

“Thanks for not berating me for risking my life while my soulmate is out there somewhere.” 

“Hey, I hid my makr to join a highly experimental drug trial and enlist in World War Two so I don’t have much room for judgment.” He joked and Daisy laughed, feeling a little better.

___

Daniel Sousa had been sure this would be another day at the station as he slipped his uniform over his shoulders, covering the soulmark on the back of his shoulder. Soulmarks appeared when a person turned 16, appearing at the place where their soulmate would first come in contact with them. The combination of the location of his mark and the words (“Probably your only chance at survival now let me go”) had always been a mystery to him though he hoped he would solve it soon. 

He took the subway to the station, just like he did every morning. Daniel was a police officer for the 99th precinct in NYC which was about a fifteen-minute subway ride away from his apartment. Despite its obvious flaws (thanks MTA), he liked taking the subway - it was more environmentally friendly than driving himself, it was much faster than trying to make it through New York traffic or walk (though sometimes he did walk when it was nice and his leg wasn’t bugging him as much), and the crowds increased the probability that he’d come across his soulmate. 

She wasn’t on the subway today again and so Daniel resigned himself to daydreams of how they might meet. He hoped it would be romantic, that she’d bump into him accidentally (it was the best way he could explain the back of his shoulder), maybe he’d catch her as she tripped over him and they’d lock eyes and she’d take his breath away. He pushed away the fears that she would be freaked out by his prosthetic or the fact that her words on his shoulder didn’t fit that scenario at all. He wanted their meeting to be perfect for her. 

He was ripped away from his thoughts by his partner, Jack Thompson, telling him they had to go check out a call downtown. There weren’t any detectives involved so it likely wasn’t anything serious- probably a noise complaint or something equally mundane.

Daniel had been right, the call was a typical noise complaint, easily solved and probably ignored as soon as they left the building (Jack bet they’d be back in 24 hours, Daniel gave it 32). However, he never could’ve guessed that when they went to climb back into the squad car a portal would open up in the sky and a bunch of space creatures would attack earth. Thompson grabbed the radio to inform the station of the situation. It took a few minutes of convincing (he didn’t blame them, he only believed it because he was seeing it) and a few more to figure out what to do (there really isn’t an official protocol for Hostile Alien Invasion) before they were told to stay put and that backup was on the way. 

Daniel reached for his gun, steeling himself for the fight he was sure he was about to be involved in. An alien invasion would be a really bad time for his crippling ptsd. Still, he was sure his hand would shake if he had to actually lift his gun, his finger would hesitate on the trigger, he’d have to fight to keep his eyes open because if he closed them all he’d see was Afghanistan. 

“Sousa you with me?” Thompson asked, snapping him from his thoughts. 

He nodded, letting out a shaky breath, when had he stopped breathing? 

Thompson nodded, more to himself than to Daniel, “Good, cause we’re going to get through this.” 

___

If she had been really thinking at all, she might’ve wondered if she was having an out-of-body experience as she moved through the streets of Manhattan with the purpose of a woman on a mission. The Avengers were scattered across the borough trying to fight the Chitauri with mixed success. It seemed like no matter how many they blasted, quaked, shot, or struck with lightning more kept coming through the portal. Daisy was taking out as many of the aliens as she could while trying to command the local police forces- badges or not, they were purely human and severely underprepared to fight this threat. Their services were more equipped to evacuate and protect the civilians. 

She hadn’t been paying attention when she knocked into someone’s shoulder. It was a police officer, she noticed, though where most of the officers she’d seen seemed ready to take on the Chitauri head-on, he looked terrified. 

“Who the hell are you?” The man questioned, quickly grabbing her wrist before she could run off. 

“Probably your only chance at survival now let me go.” Daisy bit back angrily and the man gasped, dropping her arm and backing away like she had burned him. 

“You’re- we’re-” The man stuttered and even though he could’ve been about to say anything (maybe “you’re Quake!” or “We’re gonna die!”) Daisy knew exactly what he meant. She knew from the burning sensation on the wrist he had been holding. He was her soulmate. 

“Oh my god, I don’t have time for this!” Daisy yelled angrily, quaking the alien that had appeared behind the man. 

She silently cursed fate or destiny or whatever was behind this for planning her soulmate meeting during a literal alien invasion. 

“Listen, I need you to leave the frontlines- spread the word: all officers are to evacuate as many civilians as possible. Focus on protecting them.” She ordered making an effort to put the world-altering event before the life-altering event she had accidentally just stumbled upon. 

“Who’s going to be there to fight?” 

Daisy quaked another approaching Chitauri soldier. “Leave that to the people with powers.” 

The officer nodded mutely, seemingly stunned into silence. 

“Sousa!” Another officer called out, “Quit chatting we have a job to do!” 

The dark-haired officer, her soulmate, nodded to the man and started to move away. 

“Officer Sousa!” Daisy called, taking steps backward herself, “Maybe we can get some coffee when this is all done?” 

“Sure but how’ll I find you?” He asked, turning back to stare at her hopefully. 

Daisy’s steps were picking up speed, the urgency of the day not lost on her. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll find you!” 

And with that she was off, turning on her heels and sprinting towards Stark Tower. 

___

Daisy stared at the computer monitor in front of her. It had been a few days since the Chitauri attack and while New York and her mental state was still a disaster, she needed to do this. The file she had found in SHIELD’s database was a welcome distraction, as was the handsome face staring back at her from the screen. 

Daniel Jordan Sousa. Born 1984 in Twin Falls, Idaho. Served one tour in Afghanistan before being discharged due to an injury resulting in the amputation of his left leg. 

She scrolled down to the contact information. 

Cellphone: (xxx)xxx-xxxx 

Bingo. 

Daisy: Hi, it’s Daisy Johnson, your soulmate? I was wondering if we could get that coffee?

She was surprised by how quickly he responded. 

Daniel: I’d love to! 

Daniel: btw how did you get my number? 

Daisy: It’s a bit of a story, mind if I tell you over that coffee?

Daniel: does 1:00 work? Maybe we could grab a bite to eat while we’re at it?

Daisy smiled before checking the time, 11 o’clock. She had two hours to get ready. 

Daisy: 1:00 sounds great. I know a cute place off 12th ave 

___

Daniel had no intention of pulling his soulmate from the field, he knew it was where she wanted to be and he’d never dream of taking it from her. However, he’d be damned if he wasn’t out there to watch her back. So, he joined SHIELD not long after they met. Despite his prosthetic, he climbed the ranks relatively quickly though Daisy wasn’t surprised. She had seen his record both in the military and the police force, Daniel Sousa was a damn fine agent. 

The two weren’t in any hurry relationship-wise. They had moved in together fairly quickly but even two years later they had yet to get engaged. It was a bit of an anomaly - soulmates were usually hitched within a year of meeting each other but Daisy didn’t really hold much stock in a piece of paper declaring their relationship valid and Daniel decided he really didn’t need that paper either as long as he still had Daisy. Besides, with their separate jobs at SHIELD, they didn’t really have much time to plan engagements or weddings. 

In 2014 the pair were recruited to an elite team by Phil Coulson, the man Daisy could’ve sworn had died in her arms, the man the Avengers were told had died. She had shaken her head at Fury when she found out. “You manipulative son of a bitch,” she had said though she had meant it fondly. Who knows what would’ve happened when the Chitauri invaded if he hadn’t done what he had. 

Daisy and Daniel joined scientist duo and soulmates Jemma Simmons and Leopold Fitz as well as Coulson’s soulmate Melinda May on the Bus, a giant plane Fury had given Coulson as reparations for his death. The team had its bumps in its initial missions but they quickly became a tightly knit family that only grew when Coulson took over as Director of SHIELD after the Hydra takeover. 

When Daniel finally proposed Jemma had been her maid of honor and Bobbi and Elena had been her bridesmaids. Likewise, Fitz had been Daniel’s best man and Mack and Hunter had filled out the rest of the groomsmen roles. It had been a small but beautiful wedding, Daisy’s mom had allowed them to have the ceremony at Afterlife and Coulson and May had been their officiants. 

Daisy had cursed fate when they met, but looking back she realized it was all worth it for this. 

___

a/n: I had no idea how to end this. Also, I have no clue where the 99th precinct operates in NYC (if it even exists) I just wanted to make a Brooklyn 99 reference. Though I’m realizing belatedly that B99 takes place in Brooklyn and probably doesn’t operate in manhattan but oh well.  

[karrdr]

Une histoire en NBA - Episode 2 : Les Spurs

Une histoire en NBA : YPC vous raconte l’histoire récente des franchises NBA.

Après une conversation avec ma copine, je me suis rendu compte que je parlais trop souvent de NBA. J'ai aussi compris que certains termes étaient trop techniques et pouvaient rendre  inintéressante ma discussion, dialogue, monologue. Je me suis donc lancé dans une explication de la vie des équipes NBA. L'Épisode 1 était consacré aux Chicago Bulls et au dieu Michael Jordan.

Episode 2: Les Spurs.

J’ai cherché assez longtemps entre mon article sur Les Bulls de Chicago et celui-ci sur les Spurs. J’espère toujours convaincre ceux qui à l'inverse de ma personne ne sont pas fans de la NBA, qu’il y a toujours une façon plus ludique de vulgariser les intérêts pour que cela plaise au plus grand nombre.

J’ai parlé précédemment de mythologie et de NBA et je ne voulais pas reprendre la trame de l'Élu pour expliquer cette franchise qui a tant influencé la ligue. A quoi les Spurs ou leur système me font penser ? Il serait bien trop facile d’utiliser l’analogie de Bleacher Report et de leur micro série Games of Zones, que je vous conseille de regarder si vous êtes un aficionado de Games of Thrones et de la NBA. Oui ! Les Spurs sont des White Walkers, des ovnis qui convertissent tous ceux qu'ils touchent en machine obéissante, en robot. En ce qui me concerne, ils optimisent le potentiel de chaque joueur en se basant sur une règle très simple : à quoi bon se concentrer sur les faiblesses d’un joueur, il faut plutôt se concentrer sur les qualités que ce joueur peut amener dans un système préétabli. Une organisation de l'entreprise de façon transparente avec une définition des rôles simples qui peut faire rougir les meilleurs départements RH et de recrutement. Cependant ce n’est pas cette direction que j’ai souhaité prendre. Que représentent les Spurs de San Antonio dans la Pop Culture?

Qui sont les Spurs?

Avant tout, le Spurs ne sont pas cool. Comment je le sais? Lorsque je jouais au basket, il fallait juste regarder les maillots que les gamins portaient à l'époque. David Robinson qui était la star de l'équipe n'était pas flashy, très bon joueur mais dans la catégorie ennuyeuse; même un joueur fantasque comme Dennis Rodman n'a pas fait long feu à San Antonio au début des années 90.

L’ajout de Tim Duncan dans l'équipe lors de la draft de 1997 fait souffler un vent de renouveau chez les texans. On parle de plus en plus de cette franchise, ils ont enfin leur joueur “bankable”. Cependant le jeu des Spurs vue comme trop conservateur, trop b.a.-ba ne réussit pas à conquérir de nouveaux fans.

Avertissement: "Pour ceux qui souhaitent faire des réactions à chaud sur ce que je viens de dire, je ne dis pas que ces joueurs n'étaient pas bons, ils sont les meilleurs à leur poste, ils font partie des 50 meilleurs joueurs de la ligue."

Les Spurs ne plaisent pas car leur jeu filé s’apparente à une danse de robots jouant au basket, : chacun suivant son rôle, pas de frasques, pas de célébrations, pas de fun. Malgré un logo plutôt coloré entre 90-2000, leurs maillots ne sont pas “fashion” (noir et argent, sobre), leur jeu n’est pas fait de « alley hoop » et de gros dunks que la machine divertissante qu’est la NBA met en avant pour se vendre. .

Les Spurs sont-ils The Wire?

Sur Écoute ou The Wire est une série (la meilleure) qui raconte l’histoire de la ville de Baltimore dans l’état du Maryland en prenant la perspective de la police, de la politique, des dockers travaillant dans le port et des dealers de drogues. Même si il y a des personnages principaux, le scénario est l’élément central de la série au-dessus des acteurs et de leur personnages et comme pour les Spurs, la somme prévaut sur l’individu. Cette série est anti-spectaculaire, longue et lente. Les épisodes sont longs et lents, ils font 1h en général et le premier retour que j’ai lors de mes sessions de prosélytisme c’est “ j’ai essayé mais c’est lent, rien ne se passe” ou encore “J’ai pas pu regarder plus loin que l'épisode 3 de la saison 2”. Pour cette dernière remarque c’est vrai que cette saison est lente. L’histoire ne se concentre plus sur les vendeurs de rue mais sur le système qui permet aux drogues de rentrer dans la ville: Le Port. Rien n’est donné gratuitement dans cette série, chaque deroulement se mérite, chaque personnage est complexe, chaque environnement est décrit dans son ensemble. Par exemple, il n’y a pas de jugement ni de définition claire du bien et du mal, même dans le monde des dealers de drogues, il y a des valeurs profondes et des réflexions sur la société et la condition humaine des pauvres. “Deserve got nothing to do with it. It's his time, that's all” de Snoop ou “Middle management means that you got just enough responsibility to listen when people talk, but not so much you can’t tell anybody to go fuck themselves.” de Howard ‘Bunny’ Colvin. Regarder the Wire quand on écrit, c’est un peu comme regarder un match des Spurs quand on est fan de basket. C’est un plaisir énorme, plein de petites pépites. Je repense à cette scène qui se passe lors d’une partie de poker. C’est la première fois que le personnage d’Omar, le robin des bois de la série, rencontre Marlo, le nouveau boss. N’oubliez pas, la scène se tourne dans une partie de Poker, donc le vocabulaire va avec:

“SPOILER ALERT”

Flush to the queen. Marlo: Full house. Omar: All right, everybody, Let me see them hands, y'all. Hands. Hey, yo, big man, back up. I don't know about cards, but, I think these 45s beat a full house. Hey, yo, banker, cash me out, yo. Boy, you want a head on that body, you best hop to. Marlo:That's my money. Omar: Man, money ain't got no owners, only spenders. I tell you something else-- I like that ring, too. Boy, you got me confused with a man repeats himself. Marlo: This ain't over. Omar: Oh, that's how you carrying it, shorty? 'Cause, I can find your peoples a whole lot easier than they can find me. Marlo: Wear it in health. Omar: No doubt.

Le jeu des Spurs est aussi fluide qu’un dialogue de The Wire. Il y a les bases fondamentales, au basket, il faut marquer; dans une série, il faut intéresser l’audience et faire en sorte que les personnages et leurs dialogues collent à l’histoire. Il y a aussi un brin de folie et une exécution intuitive.

Les Hommes de l’ombre

On ne peut parler des Spurs et de The Wire sans parler de leurs “poto mitan”. David Simon et Gregg Popovich se sont imposés dans la NBA et chez HBO sans fioriture et sans changer leur approche malgré le fait de parfois nager à contre courant. Chaque année on entend la même rengaine sur l'âge des hommes de Popovich, leur style de jeu n’est jamais celui correspondant à la tendance. La culture Spurs impose son style. Lorsque The Wire sort, les hommes de Simon sont confrontés à une audience qui est friande de séries comme The Shield, CSI: Miami, NCIS et pour finir LOST. Tous ont la même recette, le cliffhanger à la fin de chaque episode qui pousse l’audience à quémander la suite au plus vite. C’est un principe qui ressemble a de la torture, c’est pour cela que je m’ennuie a chaque fois qu’une nouvelle série fait cela. JE PARLE DE TOI: HOW TO GET AWAY WITH MURDER.

David Simon a commencé sa carrière en tant que journaliste à Baltimore et son expérience pendant un an avec la brigade criminelle lui a donné une perspective unique sur la situation de la guerre contre la drogue aux Etats-Unis et c’est peut-être pour cela que deux personnages diamétralement opposés, Bodie (le corner boy, vendeur de drogue et manager d’une petite équipe) et Marla Daniels (politiciennes et ex-femme d’un lieutenant) arrivent à la même conclusion en parlant chacun de leurs réalités.

Bodie: This game is rigged, man. We like the little bitches on a chessboard. Marla Daniels: The game is rigged, but you cannot lose if you do not play.

Simon fait des productions tv très proches du documentaire, avec beaucoup de détail et comme je l’ai dit un peu plus haut, rien n’est simple dans son oeuvre. Les gentils et les méchants habituels ne sont pas les méchants et les gentils du réel. Il y a une quête qui transcende la réalité et se rapproche de la vérité dans The Wire: La complexité de l'être humain et de sa relation avec la société, être extra-humain.

Gregg Popovich a une formation militaire, un être complexe a la fois attachant et détestable qui a l’air de sortir tout droit d’un film d'espionnage tourne pendant la Guerre Froide. Son pedigree parle de lui-même, il est avec les Spurs depuis 1994, 22 ans de carrière en tant que coach, cinq titres NBA, trois titres de meilleur coach de la saison. Il a une relation très compliquée avec les médias couvrant la NBA et souvent les journalistes en payent le prix. C’est un homme de très peu de mots quand il parle aux personnes externes à son organisation, mais tous ceux qui ont eu la chance de travailler avec lui prône son art de la communication et son ouverture d’esprit. Il a modelé les Spurs avec des principes de respect, d’inclusion, de diversité et surtout, fait de cette équipe un lieu où l’ego et l’individu doivent laisser place au groupe et potentialiser son fonctionnement.Plus récemment, il est devenu très vocal sur les problèmes ethnico-sociaux dont souffrent les Etat-Unis et surtout sur son nouveau président.

Casting International et presque inconnu

Les Spurs se sont penchés sur le vivier du basketball international d'une façon plus agressive que les autres franchises. Un talent reste un talent peu importe d'où il vient, tant qu'il sait jouer au basket intelligemment ; tant qu'il fait le boulot ! Lors de la saison 2013-2014 où ils finiront champions (du monde) de basket, sur un effectif de 15 joueurs, sept joueurs étaient internationaux. Il faut savoir que cela est assez inhabituel dans le sport américain le plus exportable, le système de draft est biaisé envers les joueurs étrangers, peu de franchise se mouillent et elles préfèrent souvent des joueurs venant des universités américaines.

Tim Duncan : Iles Vierges.

Tony Parker, Boris Diaw : France.

Patty Mills: Australie.

Marco Belinelli: Italie.

Tiago Splitter: Bresil.

Manu Ginobili: Argentine.

Le casting de The Wire, à ma grande surprise, était aussi très international et sans grande star hollywoodienne pour que le jeu soit mis en valeur plutôt que le nom de l’acteur. Les anglais Dominic West, inspecteur McNulty et Idris Elba, Stringerbell, baron de la drogue, et l’irlandais Aidan Gillen, jeune politicien qui souhaite faire bouger les choses dans sa ville partagent l’affiche avec des acteurs que l’on a l’habitude de voir dans les séries HBO(Lance Reddick, J. D. Williams, Seth Gilliam,etc.). Comme pour les Spurs, un talent reste un talent peu importe d'où il vient, tant qu'il sait jouer intelligemment ; tant qu'il fait le boulot !

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-N_UuImPL4E[/embed]

Infiltrations de la ligue et des autres franchises

Les Spurs ont infiltré la ligue comme des espions russes. Le site de sport SBNation a en 2013 publié un infographique au sujet de la descendance du duo coach Popovich et General Manager RJ Buford.

A cette liste, il faut ajouter Sean Marks, originaire de Nouvelle-Zélande, ancien joueur des Spurs entre 2003-2006 et ancien membre du staff de coach entre 2013-2016. Il est, depuis 2016, le nouveau manager general des brooklyn nets et retrouve ainsi un certain Jacque Vaughn, présent dans la liste au-dessus, dans l’organisation de la franchise. La marque de fabrique Spurs se répand dans la ligue aussi bien au niveau de la national basketball association que des franchises. Steve Kerr coach des Golden State Warriors, membre des Spurs entre 1998-2001 puis entre 2002-2003, a récemment redoré le blason de l'équipe d'Oakland en gagnant deux des trois dernières finales.

Pour nos acteurs de The Wire, l’histoire se répète un peu de la même façon. La plupart d’entre eux se sont retrouvés dans d’autres séries très populaires.

The Walking Dead - Seth Gilliam, Lawrence Gilliard Jr., Chad Coleman

Luther – Idris Elba

Boardwalk Empire - Michael K. Williams

Game of Thrones - Aidan Gillen

The Affair – Dominic West

Suits – Wendell Pierce

Michael B Jordan - Friday Night Lights, Fruitvale Station, Creed et Black Panther - jouant le rôle de Wallace retrouve Michael K Williams, le légendaire Omar dans That Awkward Moment (Oui j'ai regardé ça).

L'histoire des Spurs pourrait se résumer à un centre de formation pour les équipes et aussi pour les joueurs. Il y a une marque Spurs, synonyme de réussite et d'ordre. Il y a aussi une fierté de voir ces anciens joueurs ou collaborateurs réussir autre part. Ce n’est pas le jeu le plus attrayant et malgré le fait d’avoir chaque année la même rengaine: “les Spurs sont trop vieux”, c’est la meilleure franchise des 20 dernières années. La série The Wire elle aussi, vieillit bien. Commencée en 2002 a l'époque où avoir un portable était un luxe et où internet n'était accessible que sur un ordinateur, elle a évolué au fil des saisons en intégrant les évolutions technologiques dans l’histoire, par exemple, les dealers sont passés de l'utilisation des cabines téléphoniques pour coordonner les livraisons de drogues à l’utilisation des textos pour ne plus être mis sur écoute par la police. Neuf ans après la dernière saison, c’est toujours un classique, pour moi c’est une série indétrônable. Numéro Un. Numéro Un. Numéro Un. Je l’ai regardé en entier deux fois et je pense la regarder une troisième fois avec les commentaires des écrivains et du directeur avant la fin de l'année.

[iarinhacosta]

Good News - Kurt + Rich #BsABCChallenge

I know how silly that sounded, but I hope you like it. I really know that Rich will be with Patterson in lab in Season Three and I'm glad that Jane opened up Kurt's heart so he could give Rich a third chance. Everyone deserves a new chance!

Portuguese version: https://fanfiction.com.br/historia/741182/Desafio_do_ABC_-_Historias_de_Hiatus/capitulo/7/

Day G - Gord Enver - @blindspothiatusproject

Rich was happy with his conditional. After losing Boston after so many mistakes, he had finally learned that he needed to take life and people more seriously, and that's how he got his parole: changing. Of course, his crazy, authentic, and unique way still existed, but he had learned to use it at right times and for the good of all, and not only him. Now he had a house, very different from all the mansions he had ever owned, but here he felt happy. His happiness increased that day when his favorite agent knocked on his door. "Stuart?" He said a little incredulously as he saw Kurt Weller in front of him, but gave way for his favorite agent to enter. "To what do I owe the honor of your presence here? I am sure that I did nothing wrong" It was Kurt's moment to laugh a little of him before turning around and looking at the bearded little man in front of him. "I know you did not do anything wrong," Kurt began, clearing his throat and then continued in a serious tone. "That's why I'm here." "Something about our lovely Jane?" Kurt laughed again in his tone of concern. "Jane is super good, as far as I know." He answered and then saw that he had set fire to powder. "Tell me that this ring on your finger matches any ring that Jane also has, otherwise you're not welcome here." Rich said very quickly and breathlessly as he stared at Kurt's left hand. "Were you going to kick me out if I had not married Jane?" Kurt asked incredulously. "Of course I would not tolerate that you would have made such stupidity and still step on the same ground as me." "She also has an alliance like that. We got married." "Prove me," he said, looking defiantly at Kurt. Kurt only thought when his life had lost control to the point of an ex-criminal not trusting him? He did not want to waste time with it, however, and then took his cell phone out of his pocket, showing the canvas rest photo that was one of his favorite photos of his wedding. "Jane Weller." Rich said in a relieved sigh and then looked serious at Kurt. "I'm glad you're married, even if you did not invite me." "Choices, but I came here proposing something to you" Rich looked with malice and glint in Kurt's eyes. "You are already experiencing ..." But Kurt did not let him finish speaking and interrupted him. "You want to work with us at the FBI?" Rich took a while to respond, paralyzed in front of Kurt, who no longer knew what to do. He expected screams, maybe some joke not believing, but unlike all his imaginations, Rich was frozen in front of him. "What?" He said after a while, his eyes blinking, still not believing what Kurt had said. "We are in need of a consultant to help Patterson and she has not found anyone equipped for this in quantum so we think of you" "I very much doubt that Patterson thought of letting me play of his own free will." "It was not her idea, it was my idea." "Should I buy this fight with the blonde?" He said looking at me confused. "It's your choice." Kurt replied calmly, "But I've seen you jumping from a 20-story building and surviving two shots in a day, so I guess you can face it." Rich smiled back at Kurt and looked at him with excitement. "When do I start?" "Tomorrow at 9 o'clock. Could it be?" Rich replied shaking his head like a happy puppy. He left Kurt to the door, but before closing it, he looked at his then-chief and said quite seriously. "I wonder how happy Jane was when you asked her to marry him, but tell her that nothing will surpass my happiness in receiving your proposal today." Kurt laughed and then came out whispering, "I'm sure I will."

[little-tyrant-gortash]

The End

Pairing: fem!Tav x Enver Gortash

Tags: Character Death, Slavery, Sexual Slavery, Blood and Injury, Blood, Injury

Desc.: I still have the Gortash brainrot and I wanted something evil. 👉👈 I know, I know, I know where the door is, I'll see myself out, now. 😂

Word count: 1,146

AO3 here.

You were defeated.

As Enver Gortash towered over you, and you watched how the blood dripped from your mouth and nose on the marble floor, as your vision blurred and darkened - you knew it was over.

You lost.

With whatever defiance you had left after you've witnessed your friends - your companions you loved dearly - die ahead of you... you mustered it. You would be teeth and claw to the end; until the final blow hit you in the face. You would hold onto whatever courage and arrogance you still had left. The last sentence you screamed echoed down the halls and still rang in your ears-

"Astarion! No!"

-before the vampire was caught by an exploding bolt through his heart and turned to ash in a blink. You couldn't process it, not yet. Your lover who deserved to finally be alive and safe, who had his revenge on Cazador, who remained a spawn because you asked, despite the fact how much he wanted to ascend - he was no more because of you.

You knew Gale fell, too, because the shield he'd summoned to protect you vanished, and you heard his broken whisper-

"No, I cannnot die-"

-before he went silent. You knew Karlach was dead - her shouts and grunts went silent a few minutes ago, after a horrifying crack. You didn't dare to check what body part she got shattered. Her chest or her head - both would be equally terrifying.

In the sudden, deafening silence, only your pathetic fight for every breath and the sound of your blood hitting the floor, forming a puddle under you, remained.

You had several broken bones. Ribs, legs, your left arm. You gave the fight your all, as always, and it wasn't enough. You were absolutely unprepared for Bane's Chosen, you realised it too late.

The Tyrant crushed you, as if you were an ant under his boot.

His boot. The red devil on his boot. Your eyes, with a great effort, focused. It was just in front of you, both of them, just a few inches away from the puddle of your blood. He towered over you and probably found immense pleasure in the sight of you as you tried to catch your breath.

You raised your head slowly, in order to meet his eyes. Gortash looked and felt impossibly tall and mighty from your spot on the floor, you had to bend your neck all the way back to make eye contact with him. And while you were drenched in blood, Enver looked impeccable. He smiled at you. For some reason, his smile was unsettling you; sending warnings into your brain to run for your life.

But you couldn't. He took all of your chances to do that. The throbbing, sharp pain in your legs was unbearable. You wanted to pass out, to die, to be free from all the pain he inflicted upon you.

And he still said nothing. Just smiled.

It was even worse than any degrading words he could've conjured. He could've insulted your intelligence for turning against him; your weaknesses he exploited; the fact that you were alone now, because he surely gave the order to his lackeys to attack your camp to take care of the rest of your friends.

He took everything from you.

"What are you waiting for?" You didn't realise tears were rolling down your cheeks until you attempted to speak. You sobbed. And your body hurt even more. What a pathetic show, you briefly wondered why he kept watching. "Kill me."

Gortash tilted his head at your words as he watched you cry. As if he had a different plan in his mind. His mere thoughtful expression made shivers crawl up your spine.

"We could've been allies", he sighed theatrically as he shifted the crossbow to give it to one of his guards who silently took it from him. "Equals. You could've ruled with me. We would've been glorious."

You took a deep breath. Bright spots flashed in your vision, you were close to fainting.

"Shut the fuck up Gortash, and kill me already!"

There was a brief moment when you thought he'd do it. The way his eyes flashed for a split second - you knew this man was dangerous, but he hadn't showed enough of that side of his for you to know how much exactly. And that was your undoing.

"No."

He leaned down to grab your chin in his clawed right hand. His golden nails dug deep into your skin and flesh, and your eyes widened when you realised that you were wrong all along. You still had something to lose. Your choice to die. Your only path to be free from him and his design.

"I wanted to share it with you from the moment I set my eyes on you for the first time through one of my scrying eyes. I've watched you cut through all obstacles on your way here, to me, and I admired your strength and enthusiasm. I'll admit, I thought the Shadow-Cursed lands took you, but I was delighted to find out that you survived. You proved your strength to me a thousand times. And then, and then! You got rid of both of Ketheric and Orin for me. You've done so much more for me than I ever hoped you would. Thank you."

You spat him right in the face. You couldn't believe you just did that.

Your spit was mixed with blood, drawing a glistening crimson line across his face. He snarled at you and his fingers painfully tigthened on your jaw, the tips of his claws almost digging right down to your bone.

"I will not kill you", he growled as he pulled your face closer to his own, his nose almost touching yours. Your muscles strained as he forced you, every inch of your body silently screamed from the agony. "After the final steps of my plan, you will be my loyal little pet." You could feel your heart sink to the level of your stomach at this promise. "You will warm my bed, and you will obey me, no matter what I tell you to do."

"Never!"

You could've sounded much more convincing, but your voice was shaking with fear of your inevitable future he had in store for you. Gortash laughed quietly as he let go of your jaw and rose to his full height.

"I will break you in sooner than you think", his eerie promise made you shiver. He was still looking in your eyes as he gave his orders to his guards. "Heal her and clean her up. Put a spell blocking collar on her; we wouldn't want her to escape, now."

"You're a monster!" You wanted to scream, but all you could do was a pathetic whimper.

"Don't be so harsh, my dear. I will take good care of you."