#GARBAGE communication. Banter.

[mars-ipan]

running in circles bc i can't go look at all the fanart and fanfic yet because i have a whole second season to watch

[sixhours]

For the wip ask game, I'm curious about songbird 2 and more specifically what do you find fun/exciting about rewriting the same fic from a different pov? And/or what do you find frustrating, if anything? (Really hope i have not mixed up my memory of the premise of the fic or this question is garbage hahaha)

Hello m'dear!

So songbird 2 is a yet-to-be-titled Joel/Ezra fic loosely based on certain events in season/game 2, and promising light is the Ellie POV of i know you by heart.

I mostly wanted to write an Ellie POV because I wanted to give her inner thoughts about settling into Jackson some more air time. I don't think it will mirror i know you by heart chapter for chapter but more act as a supplement. I'm realllllly excited about developing Ellie & Cee's sisterly relationship, and maybe Ellie & Ezra talk about her sexuality, and her immunity. Basically Ellie finding her place with Joel, and in her family, and in the community.

The most frustrating/difficult part is getting into a teenage kid's head, remembering I'm writing at her level rather than at a grown-up level. And because Ezra's there, the dialogue. So much damn talkin'. 🤣 I feel like I have a good handle on Joel & Ellie's banter and rhythm, but Ellie & other people not so much, so that's a challenge.

[qqueenofhades]

Do you have a favorite character relationship, platonic or romantic, that’s your favorite to write purely from an author format?

I feel like I’m wording this terribly, but I know for me personally, my favorite relationships to read and write from like… a fandom perspective based on what I ship? is different than the relationships that are interesting to me as an author, because trying to figure out how characters interact, trying to capture their relationship and banter and dialogue and mannerisms, I find in some ways is more fun and interesting and dynamic to write over even some of my absolute favorite relationships, because with my favorites, I read and write them so much that I’m very comfortable with them and sometimes it’s nice to know that I’m just able to go for it and write them because I trust my internal instinct about how to write them and how they act and talk.

But the ones that are more challenging to explore or more unique are in many ways almost more interesting to write, they scratch that author itch when I can pull them off, and especially enjoy.

Like, there’s the things fandom author me enjoys, and things literary author me enjoys, and while there’s a LOT of overlap I have different preferences and favorites on both sides

And honestly I think this goes for ALL writing, not just necessarily relationships? So yeah, there’s the question and I’m so sorry for the rambling, but what would you say are your favorite things and relationships and plots etc to write as a fandom author, and favorite ones as a literary author? I’m happy to try to explain more if I’m being confusing. Words. Hard. Sorry

Are you asking in terms of abstracts (i.e. overall character types/dynamics/broad themes) or specifics (i.e. actual characters/ships from particular media properties)? In general for fandom, I have certain tropes and dynamics that I gravitate toward: i.e. Trashy Garbage Man Falls For Tiny Fierce Woman Who Doesn't Take His Bullshit; Sunshine and Grumpy (any combination thereof); Stupid Homosexuals are Stupid and Cannot Communicate, Cause Problems for Themselves; Now With Even More Literal Centuries of Pining God They're So Fucking Stupid, and more. Most of my favorite and long-term ships, such as Garcy, Fivan, Dreamling, etc. fall into one or more of these categories. I also particularly enjoy or have enjoyed writing Flynn (Timeless), Hob (Sandman), Ivan (Shadow and Bone), and their associated relationships, for various reasons. I know all of their characters well and they give me joy, so it's easy to slip into their POV, create scenarios or headcanons, and put them in various settings and give them problems. So there's that.

In terms of my original stuff, I am much more experimental and interested in a broader range of styles and outcomes. When you're writing fic, you are usually heading toward a certain ending (a happy ending for the blorbos after various tribulations), and I therefore have a certain writing style for fic that reflects that. My original fiction is different and in some ways considerably darker, and pushes character boundaries, plotlines, and interactions beyond what you'll normally see in my fic. For example, I have two currently finished original novels that (and I KNOW I have said this before) I should just quit procrastinating on and publish, especially since I badly need the money. One of them, The Wives, is a dark feminist murder-version of #MeToo with an unreliable and extremely feral female narrator. The other, Wormwood, is an alternate-history science fiction saga that is a combination of The Man in the High Castle and Chernobyl. They're both considerably different from each other in tone, style, and character relationships, and they represent more experimentation, complicated morality, and plot conflict than is generally reflected in my fics, because long-form fandom writing is one kind of thing and original long-form writing is another. So hey.

I likewise am currently working on an original version of my fic The Key of Solomon, entitled The Empire of Bones, which is an epic ensemble political-magical fantasy set in a historically inspired world. @silverbirching has read Part 1 and very much enjoyed it, so I am hoping to finish that one sometime in the new year (probably not sooner, but we will see?) It is likewise quite different from The Wives and Wormwood, and will (I hope) readily appeal to fans of my fics, because it preserves some of the same themes, styles, and character dynamics, while also including a ton of original stuff, extensive world-building, and new plots, themes, and content.

Thanks for the question!

[no1frogfan]

Your Miyuki/Nutritionist!Reader story sounds like a lot of fun!! (I’m totally rooting for Mariner!Miyuki, too 🤭 do it do it do it do it!!!)

You mentioned another Daiya WIP— might I know the details on that one, too? 👀

IX! You’re really enabling me here. Mariner Miyuki is just…my dream I want him so bad.

I would LOVE to share my other Daiya WIP with you. Thank you for sending an ask!!

My other idea is a first meeting with hopefully all the fun exciting beginnings of a friendship and potential romance. Coach Kataoka has volunteered himself and the team to help with the first planting for the new community garden near Seidou. A lot of work has already been done (cleared up the debris and garbage from the lot, figured out layout, built the shed and greenhouse, etc.), but there’s still a lot of work to do finish the raised beds and mix and prep the soil before the seedlings can go in, and that’s where the team comes in. Coach thinks this is a good way to warm them up and let loose a bit before spring training (I’d have to double check on the timing of the training/game schedule though to be sure of when it would be.)

This idea is less fleshed out, probably a one-shot. I just think it would be so much fun to be able to write teammate banter & dirt shenanigans! I also personally love vegetable gardening and it’s the beginning of planting season so it just feels very indulgent hehe. I haven’t fully decided who to center it on yet, but I’ve narrowed it down to Chris, Eijun, or Kuramochi. They all have very different energies, but I’m leaning toward Kuramochi because he’s kind of a dweeb and that’s endearing.

Don’t know how well it fits with his personality, but for you, I’ve conjured up some lines below!

“Watch out for th—!”

He lets go of Eijun and the ground falls out from under his feet, like one of those old old cartoons, he thinks wryly, as he pitches forward into thin air and hangs suspended for what feels like minutes. His hands automatically reach out, trying to grasp anything within reach to keep himself upright. His fingers close around the first thing they touch. He’s dimly aware of a shriek, then he lands flat on his back, something landing on his chest right after and knocking the wind out of him.

Shouts, heavy footsteps, muffled voices. “Everyone take a step back.” He recognizes the deep tenor of the coach’s voice.

Kuramochi cracks opens his eyes, everything’s a haze. It feels like there’s a weight on his chest keeping him from taking anything more than a shallow breath. Something itches his nose, and— The weight lifts (with a groan?), the dots clouding his vision clears, and he gasps, coughing and sputtering as he gulps a lungful of air. He props himself up, about to look around when—

“What the hell was that?!”

He leaps to his feet, spinning around (a bit wobbly still) to confront the person yelling at him. But the words die on his tongue when he sees you. Beside him, Eijun is apologizing profusely, Miyuki is egging you on, but Kuramochi just stands there dumbly while you scold them. (“Seriously? You’re supposed to be here helping prepare the community garden and the two of you are just dicking around instead. Both of you could’ve gotten really hurt! I could’ve gotten really hurt!”)

You stop to brush some of the dirt off your face and overalls.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, so uncharacteristically timid that even Eijun and Miyuki pause their antics.

You glare, not at all intimidated by him or any of the dozen other athletes crowding around you, and maybe that’s what makes his mouth run dry.

[mineofilms]

Sjálfssöngurinn

In the realm of heavy metal and hard rock, few voices have resonated with as much power and emotion as that of lead vocalist of Slipknot, Corey Taylor. Shrouded in mystery and adorned with several differently distinctive masks over the years, Taylor has captured the hearts and minds of countless fans worldwide, inspiring the two generations of future metal singers, as well as pissing off just about everyone else alongside him or inside the business. Taylor has earned a reputation for his commanding stage presence and his ability to convey raw emotions through his music. With a unique blend of aggressive screams and melodic vocals, he has carved out a distinct sound that sets him apart in the world of metal.

Corey Taylor has been labeled by many as the greatest rock/metal vocalist of our generation. He has also been labeled by those same many as egotistical, selfish, an asshole, prick, overexposed, overrated, a narcissist and even a thief to some. All by which are subjective except for narcissism. That is a real definitive mental disorder. People use the word out of context more than it is used in pop culture correctly in today’s culture. Taylor is known for his outspoken nature and sometimes, a lot of the times, controversial statements. He has been involved in public feuds with other musicians, made provocative remarks, and expressed strong opinions on various subjects. This outspokenness can polarize opinions and lead to dislike from those who disagree with him or find his attitude abrasive. This last part here is important if he actually is a narcissist or not.

I agree with his musical tastes and even a lot of opinions about music in general that he will share for the most part. I do not dislike him for his style, his singing or even his contributions to the metal community as a whole. However, much like the late 90s and early 00s Phil Anselmo, vocalist of the legendary metal band, Pantera; where all of a sudden Phil would get extremely outspoken and say either disrespectful and/or outrageously incorrect things just to trigger either other people, groups of people (minorities), other bands or the media. I suppose some believed that is what metal was/is? To be an asshole 111% of the time, all-of-the-time.

At some point after “IOWA,” officially Slipknot’s second and heaviest record from 2001, Corey Taylor began to adapt these same traits. Much like in the movie Billy Madison where the Principal tells Billy after a long rant; “Mr. Madison, what you've just said is one of the most insanely idiotic things I have ever heard. At no point in your rambling, incoherent response were you even close to anything that could be considered a rational thought. Everyone in this room is now dumber for having listened to it. I award you no points, and may God have mercy on your soul.” That just because Corey Taylor is this big figure in metal, music, and will say something that sounds polished, articulate and intelligent, mind you he writes songs, that just because he will use witty banter doesn’t mean that banter is correct, rational, respectful and we should all bow down to the God of Metal Vocals.

Context and Intentionality go very far with me. So I will think about what Taylor says in whatever quote of the week is and ask, what was the intention of that and in what context was this in? Most of the time I just find what he has to say as just triggering garbage, even if some of it has merit. That, he isn’t trying to make a point or answer the question, but just to be egotistical about it. That his opinion is not an opinion, it is fact and if anyone doesn’t agree we are shit for asking. That is how I have always seen the man, as a man and not just the singer for Slipknot. Musically, well, vocally, what he has done for the industry has set the standard for metal vocals for the next 25-50 years. That can be debated. However, unlikely to be matched or proven to be untrue. I have never felt anything humble coming from the man. He doesn’t seem at all thankful for his good fortunes in music. I have always felt like all us fans are just dollar signs to him. That he doesn’t care about the community parts, he only cares about the industry parts. Those are the parts that enable his ability to keep making money.

Slipknot came on the scene with two crazy albums followed by watered down versions of their style, gaining more popularity with most, but losing some along the way. I was never a Stone Sour fan. I just didn’t care for what they were doing. It sounded like watered down Slipknot with no samples and more traditional percussion work. Would have been fine with an E.P. here/there, but to make this a real side project or band with records and touring completely turned me off. Slipknot, as previously stated, love the first two records. “IOWA,” from 2001, is probably one of the most influential metal records to come out, ever… Are their heavier records? Are their better records? Are there more famous metal records? Yes to all three, but “IOWA” is timeless. We are talking modern day metal. What is happening now, right now, in the now. “IOWA” sounds just as much 2023 than it does 2001. One or even many cannot say that about a lot of rock or metal records that people will call “most influential.” Even Black Sabbath’s “Paranoid.” As great as it is. It sounds the time period. Metallica’s “Black Record.” Same, deal… Even Pantera’s “Vulgar Display of Power” all sound the time period it was released in.

After “IOWA” I could not find another Slipknot song I could like till "Psychosocial," 2008. “The Devil in I,” from 2014. After that "All Out Life," 2018. The last record from the band where just about every song was a banger was "We Are Not Your Kind," 2019. Between all that and after this there is nothing I like from the band. Considering the man is a vocal legend in both music and specifically metal music one would think there would be more out there that I would find favorable. Nearly a 30-year career and only a fraction of what the man has created I can give praise about. Where the rest of it in my opinion is [insert whatever Corey Taylor rant/quote talking shit about someone else and ad almost no context to it just to get a reaction.]

I have been saying all this for 20+ years now. I like the singing talent, but can do without the egotistical tough guy in a metal band attitude. My inflated expectation of the man is I thought he would be more humble. More trying to help local bands or help other really heavy bands that may have trouble getting people to listen due to that heaviness. I expected Corey Taylor to be more positive considering this is the man’s career aka luxury in life. Some of the things he has done to hurt other artists, even fellow band members will never be ignored by people who care and pay attention to things like that.

This Whole Blog is Subjective Here.

It is my opinion based on what I have read, seen, over the years from the singer since I first heard of Slipknot in 1997. Yes, I knew who they were before they were signed to RoadRunner Records. A lot of people who were into underground metal knew who they were. I was a huge fan of the band till “Vol. 3: (The Subliminal Verses)” from 2004 was released. When this hit I was majorly disappointed in the band sonically. I did not like the record nor did I jump on the FM radio bandwagon when they started getting radio play. Back then getting heavy bands on the radio basically meant the band at one time was heavy, but soften it up a bit to get on the radio to sell more records. In Slipknot’s case this style change killed the band for me and from that time to now where I am overly critical of the band’s music and find very little I have been able to honestly love. 2018-2019 was a great year for the band. They released a track in 2018 called, "All Out Life," and it is a real banger of a song. Gets you moving right away and really is a culmination stylistically and sonically of what the band used to sound like before RoadRunner signed them all the way to the “IOWA” years. 2019 the band released the record "We Are Not Your Kind." Just about every song on that record reminds me of those older days of Slipknot where they were the heavy metal standard. Be it MTV popularity through the Nu Metal years to the birthing of metal subgenres like deathcore and metalcore. A return to form, but their last record in 2022, “The End, So Far” is the worst hunk of crap I have heard since Volume 3 and their new single “Bone Church” is an ok track, but seems more like a song for a Rob Zombie movie by Rob Zombie or something. It doesn’t really have the sound but it is ok. The fans that love everything Slipknot will like it, but it sounds to me like something Rob Zombie would do.

This BLOG stems from a social media post where everyone was praising Corey Taylor for being such a cool dude. I do not know this. I do not know the man personally, but I did become interested in why people in general seem to love the guy, while all that I have seen from him makes me not want to support him much. Me being such a metalhead I do not deny the talent and what he has done for metal; but at the same time I will call a dick a dick. If I see a little dick, hopping around from group to group and just saying rude and challenging things and then not respect a counter to that ��that we all should bow down to this little dick jumping from group to group being insulting AF, at what point is someone, anyone gonna say something about it?

I didn’t really wanna do a timeline of the guy of everything he has done and said, but rather just explain myself and where my logic is on the subject. Basically, someone asked me why I didn’t like him, as they all did. Well, this is why. I have never once seen Corey Taylor respond to something where he wasn’t talking down to them or us. At some point, ya gotta be decent, right? To someone, anyone, everyone? I don’t know mannnnnnn… Just something about that abrasive attitude all of the time, not some of the time; but all of the time. I do rather appreciate a witty response to a possible nonsense question or loaded question. Hey, I could have this all wrong and Corey could just be a dick to those because that is what they are expecting of him. They ask, what don’t you like about rock music today? And his response would make sense, but I just feel this is an excuse so he can exert his egotistical attitude towards others.

Just because someone, a group, model, celebrity or news network deems a thing to be wrong, bad, evil doesn't mean they themselves are correct, good, right... This opinion was not written by or with the help of AI productivity tools. Less than 60% of ALL web traffic is human... So who exactly are we ALL catering to???

Sjálfssöngurinn (Icelandic) The Egotistical Anthem by David-Angelo Mineo 5/26/2023 1,968 Words

[chryzure-archive]

how does break/george show their care for chrysi? and how does chrysi show her care for them? what games do u think would oz and alice enjoy…

break shows his care for her by calling her out on her bullshit <3 he knows that it’s all her self-destructive tendencies speaking whenever she claims she doesn’t want to get anybody else in trouble. he’s been there. he doesn’t want her to make his same mistakes.

honestly, a lot of break’s caring for chrysi stems from him trying to prep her for when he’s going to be dead. he’s the only one that can read her and understand her, and so he has to be the one to set her to rights and get her on the right path before he’s gone. he shudders to think of what’ll happen if he doesn’t.

(though what happens if chrysi were to die first? what then?)

george shows his care for chrysi via brusquely keeping her company. he’ll clean her room for her, even if he’ll complain a bit as he does it, and he’ll bluntly tell her hey, he’s concerned for her on account of her being an idiot. but in the end, he can’t tell her to do anything. he jst indirectly lets her know that he’s worried for her, he thinks she’s making bad decisions, and he wants her to be better soon……. vv little brother behavior………… he’ll also leave her some homemade meal and a comic he thinks she might like 🥺 just to distract her.

(side note: i think out of all her boyfriends, george might like gil the most???? hmmmmm. perhaps mordred too, since mordred would defend chrysi w his life……….)

chrysi shows her care for break by attacking him like a wild animal. it’s mostly jst banter between the two of them, but when it comes down to it, they can communicate to each other pretty clearly. they’re not really ones for physical contact, but their company is secretly appreciated :)

with george, chrysi will DOTE ON HIM. getting him his fav treats, new comics, sending him silly calendars each new year, OH MY GOD, THE GAG GIFTS……. she’ll take him out on the town for one-on-one time w him. that is her baby brother!!!!

i got sidetracked a moment bc i was imagining oz and alice playing kh and yk what…. they’d fucking love it. also nitw? i feel oz would rlly appreciate it and alice would like it when he plays it because she jst falls asleep to it.

in terms of board games, i think chrysi would force both of them to play talisman so many times that now they love it. and whenever it’s cloudy out, they start bothering chrysi because they want to play talisman!! it’s talisman weather!! she’s going to murder them.

OMG THEY’D LOVE PLAYING MYSTERIUM. THAT WOULD BE SO FUN. funnily, alice is the best at being the spirit and choosing the spirit cards. chrysi suspects that alice’s stint in the abyss makes it easier, but she’s not entirely certain….

as for card games, slapjack…… chrysi’s not allowed to play, but honestly, alice hits harder than chrysi does. also, they love garbage + bullshit. they’re all easy games to learn and play rlly fast hehe.

[anotherhumanpet]

✉ : On average, how long does it take you to write a reply that you’re pleased with?

✈ : What do you think is your reputation in your role-play community?

A Munday Meme

✉: On average, how long does it take you to write a reply that you’re pleased with?

It depends on the type of reply I'm wanting to craft. For example, quick banter usually takes me a couple of minutes; ten at the most, if I'm distracted and-or really trying to come up with an appropriate response that isn't just garbage that immediately springs to mind. Replies that have some paragraphs to them will usually take me up to 30-45 minutes because I want to make sure I'm offering up enough exposition to explain my character's thoughts/motivations, as well as creating some sort of forward motion for a partner to build off of. I certainly don't like replying to anything that's just nothing but internal dialogue and exposition, so I don't want to offer that to others. Anything lengthier and-or more detailed than that can take me up to hour or more, and that's ignoring how long I have to build up the courage to face the reply because I never actually feel good enough for the task. I'm quite convinced I suck at novella-lite type replies.

✈: What do you think is your reputation in your role-play community?

I'm not really sure to be honest!

If I were to make a guess based on my own thoughts of myself and the experiences I've had around the RPC, I'd imagine I am known as a person who's been around the TF RPC a while but I am reclusive because I don't talk much and have not really achieved making a huge name for myself within the community either. Like, those who know me, know me; Those who don't would probably go "Oh, I've seen that OC at some point or another," if that makes any sense. I'm vaguely associated with some more well known players/names because they are my friends or we wrote once upon a time ago, and some people have definitely spread their rumors about me which is probably lending into some sort of negativity which pairs nicely with that reclusive behavior I've got going on anymore.

Based on what I've been told directly by friends though, I'm apparently cool? To the point that it makes me seem intimidating and daunting to approach because I'm so familiar with the scene and a good writer somehow? I make decent characters, hang around other cool people, and it's terrifying in that senpai kind of way??

It's wild to imagine myself like that.

[goblinalchemist]

"Classic Lara Croft was all about her big boobs and tight ass. She was made for the male gaze with her moans at every jump."

//proceeds to loudly stan Dimitrescu, whose entire promotion was about her being a tall and busty milf, with Capcom not even trying to hide the fanservice around her

[dark-mnjiro]

happy new year to all my mutuals and followers. it has been a wild year and I just want to thank all of you for being here and putting up with my constantly changing interests. I appreciate everyone one of you! I’m going to apologize now - I’m typically not this sappy. Please ignore me - I usually don’t get emotional like this, but a lot of this needed to be said.

To my followers, thank you all for the support over the last year - even helping reach my 500 follower milestone. You guys have seriously helped boost my confidence in writing again and there’s too many of you to name to thank each one of you personally, but just know - I do read each comment, reblog, tag, etc you leave on my fics or in my inbox. And you all never fail to make me smile. 🥺

Too my mutuals, while there are also too many of you to thank individually- you have all been such a god send. I love seeing you in my inboxes, notifications, ect. I love the banter we share especially with my every changing interests and THANK YOU FOR PUTTING UP WITH THAT AS WELL. I know I’ve convinced so many of you to join the bllk cult - no I will never apologize for it either.

There’s just a few shout outs I wanted to make before the year comes to an end. To a group of people i interact with constantly - even outside of tumblr and they just aways make my shitty days brighter.

@dilu3 - you are literally like the little sister I never got to have. You match my chaotic energy at every turn and our conversations are never boring. We’re constantly keymashing, all caps screaming in our group chat and somehow manage to understand what the other is saying without it even being remotely words.

@katsukikitten / @baroukitten - I am so thankful we started talking even though it’s been fairly recent. Spamming manga screenshots back and forth especially of bllk to each other on discord while screaming about our common interests in characters. Especially Barou and Nagi. 😩 you always send me such wonderful messages while I’m at work - cheering me on ESPECIALLY ON TUESDAYS WHICH ARE MY GARBAGE DAYS. YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH THAT MEANS TO ME.

@blkladyelle - ELLE. HOW CAN I EVEN BEGIN TO DESCRIBE OUR FRIENDSHIP. The fact you pop on randomly to send me DMs just to telling me how much you love me and hope I’m having a lovely day is just so precious. It makes my heart melt. I love sharing fic ideas with you and how you help me break down the constant stream of ideas in my head - because it never seems to stop 🙃 ughhhh you are perfect.

@awkwardchick87 - while we’ve only been moots for a few months - I love that I can just spaz completely out on servers about TR with you. Especially with season 2 coming up. SCREAMS. I can’t wait. Also- I’m going to convert you to the bllk cult even if it kills me! Join us.

@ryndicate - ryn… oh RYN. The conversations we have on dash can’t even compare to the chaos that is our conversations on discord. Constantly spamming manga screenshots of Kaiser’s mullet back and forth while screaming what a tool he is that you can’t seem to escape - I have also found a friend that I can vent frustrations when it comes to the fandom community on this app with. You’ve always offered solutions to my vents as well which has been so helpful and I appreciate it so much. You have no idea how thankful I am for us meeting on this silly app this year. You and your mullet loving self. ✌🏻

@knchins - ally. My best friend. My partner in crime. My WIFE. We go back further than this app and I foresee our friendship going beyond it too. Our constantly creations of OCs and story building together. You always the best person to go to for story building/universe creating. You have such a great imagination even though you don’t seem to think so. You’re a talent writer and I wish I even had a fraction of your talent. You have no idea what you mean to me… you’ve been there through the good and the very ugly parts of me and you’ve never left - even when so many others did. You encouraged me to stay on track especially with my BPD treatment especially on the days I wanted to throw in the towel and give up. You’re always there when I need a shoulder to cry on and just to zone out while we watch our weekly showing of bllk/YouTube videos together. You’re probably the first person I message as soon as I wake up every day and the last person I send a message to before I go to sleep (or I fall asleep mid message before sending). You’re more than my best friend - you’re literally the family I choose to have in my life. 💕

[astermacguffin]

Sorry for churning out another self-indulgent AU that will take me forever to work on, but I'm obsessed with the concept of a destiel enemies-to-lovers logician AU. (Yes I already have a joenicky/kaysanova version of this and frankly I don't care lol)

LISTEN. I know it's more popular to put Dean in professions that get his hands involved (mechanic, baker, etc.) rather than very conceptual/academic professions BUT. Dean would absolutely love the elegant simplicity of formal logic.

Easy, guaranteed, and clear-cut answers that you get out of following simple rules? Dean would LOVE that after having such a difficult and complicated life.

I think Dean would specialize in the large family of modal logics, specifically deontic logic—the logic of obligations. Dean "miserable pile of familial obligations" would unfortunately enjoy this field. (No, he won't be an ethicist because he has fucked up ethics; moral philosophy won't fix him. Maybe some therapy and gay sex will.)

Castiel, on the other hand, is a logician/theologian/metaphysicist. He went to college for a religious studies degree but it turns out he likes the application of logic in God-talk more than the God-talk itself, so he switched specializations. He's one of the leading scholars in process theology, liberation theology, and the controversies surrounding S5 modal logics and the modal ontological argument.

So. Dean and Cas are both modal logicians with different specializations. Here's what happens:

They both have presentations for a logic conference the next day, so they go to a bar to unwind and maybe get laid.

They meet, have a one-night stand, and part ways.

Turns out they're both attending the same conference. They're not fully convinced with each other's ideas. Their playful bickering in the snacks table eventually devolves into a full-on fight. Someone has to physically restrain them.

Their rivalry eventually gets notorious in academic circles. They perform "academic fistfights" by constantly writing critical response papers to each other's works. There's wikipedia articles documenting their extensive history of flirt-fighting and the surprising amount of new literature written because of their public feud.

To be clear, they're not writing garbage work just to dunk on each other. They're genuinely contributing to the academic discourse. But if you look at their bibliography of works, the staggering amount of stuff they've written about or in response to the other is...alarming.

Absolutely no one discourages their fights because (1) it's entertaining and (2) it's producing a godawful amount of insightful literature. There's bets about when they're going to fuck it out (because no one knows about their one-night stand except maybe Sam, who finds this entire thing stupid but amusing).

One time, they get drunk in an afterparty. Cue some aggressive and very homoerotic banter. This eventually devolves into an elaborate game of gay chicken. Whoever gives up first must write an article where they support the thesis of the other.

They're both "you wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid" at each other. They constantly flirt and seduce one another, waiting for the other one to finally give in. They do this in conferences as well.

Fellow logicians almost prefer the shouting and near fist-fights over their very inappropriate flirty banter in public. No one dares ban them in events because (1) again, they're entertaining, and (2) they're big-name academics.

Since they're both fucking competitive, they constantly try to one-up each other. They ask each other to go out in dates and stuff. Eventually, they start to genuinely learn things about each other and go "huh. You're not so bad after all."

When they first collaborate and publish their joint work, everyone loses their mind. Are they friends now? Did they finally fuck? Both of them find the reactions very amusing.

Eventually, they start hanging out outside of their competitive dates and simply as friends. They still haven't kissed or fucked ever since. When they first both realize that they're falling in love, they're like: "Shit."

Unfortunately, they're in too deep. These bastards are too prideful to be the one to admit their feelings. Both Dean and Cas talk to their brothers about this. They're both told how stupid they are.

This all comes to a head when Cas finally gives in and fucks Dean. Cas is about to confess his feelings when Dean starts chuckling.

"What's so funny?" Cas asks. "Well, I mean. Guess I should expect that article soon, right?" Dean says in an attempt to hide his fears with playful banter. Cas squints at him. "What article?"

Dean stammers in response. "I–you know? The bet we made? The bet that started it all? That's... that's what this is all about, right?"

Cas' face shuts off, devoid of emotion. "Right. Yes. Why don't you leave now so I can start writing that, hmm?" The smile on his face is big, but Dean knows it's fake and wrong.

"Cas, wait—" "DEAN. Please. Leave my apartment." Reluctantly, Dean dresses up for his walk of shame, leaving the apartment.

The next morning, the article comes out. It's short and not written very well. Everyone is confused about the sudden drop in quality.

They stop writing response works to each other, which alerts the entire academic community. They also visibly avoid each other in conferences now. Their fellow academics take it back: they would prefer the insufferably horny flirting over this cold, silent treatment. Everyone feels the tension and it's not as lively anymore.

Cas is miserable because he thinks his feelings are unrequited. Dean feels miserable because Cas has since stopped replying to his texts and calls.

In his last-ditch attempt to get through Cas, Dean writes a celebratory primer, summarizing Cas' entire bibliography and important contributions to the field throughout his entire career. Interspersed in the writing are personal reflections on Cas' character as a thinker and a person, as well as little in-jokes meant only for Cas' eyes. It's the most sappy and gayass bibliographic summary ever written.

Cas, of course, reads this and understands the intent behind it. He finally calls Dean, they meet, they hash things out, admit their feelings, and finally kiss. Yada yada happy ending

Later on, when they finally publish their first joint work as a married couple, everyone loses their minds. Again.

[spiltscribbles]

Prompt 37 (from the first list) and bodyguard au seems interesting

By the way I love your writing please never stopped just finished your recent fic and its one of my favourites.

~Notes: 😭😭😭 baby u can’t be out here recklessly making me sob!!! I am so flustered right now!! Thank you so much for being a beautiful soul 😌😌 ok NEGL the bodyguard thing is not here Becs I’m dumb and couldn’t think of one, but there’s protective sirius💜 I hope you don’t hate this!!! ILU!!!

.-

Smash Game  |  Send Me A Prompt💜 |  A Reblog Means SO Much!!!!

.-

Alphard Black was a good man,  a man of his community,   a man of the law. He taught the ins and outs of the constitution  at Columbia, never went an inch over the speed limit, hell, he even  separated his recyclables into their proper piles for the garbage collector, and  all while spending his down time volunteering at some sort of virtuous charity or impactful outreach program for inner city youths—the man basically leaped right out of the screen of some cheesy, after school special, wacky ties and rumpled hair aplenty.

Alphard Black was a virtuous, humble man who abided by the laws set out for him to a painstaking degree—So Sirius sorta thinks it’s hilarious that he’s kind of the exact antithesis of his uncle— the man who brought him up after running away from his bat shit parents and their bat shit values as the top of the one percent.  Just kind of though.

Sirius likes to think he’s still a good guy—albeit in the typical, non second coming of Christ wannabe kind of way.  He gives spare change to homeless folks at Grand Central, doesn’t sneer at raucous kids inside of restaurants or busses… for fuck’s sake  he even smiles at strangers more often than not—— just the typical, What a nice day isn’t it, smile and not, I’m actually a blood thirsty maniac ready to carve out all your organs and wrap your naked, dead body in saran wrap Dexter style, smile…Which is actually a type of smile Sirius has become intimately familiar with considering that unlike his Uncle Alphard, Sirius may have a problem with the whole “Laws are created for the good of the public,” ideology, and rather subscribes to the way of thought that thinks it’s kind of thrilling to see how much you can bend and skirt around the rules till they break, or till he gets caught. Which in turn mostly manifests into Sirius participating in a very high demand business—the sort that’ conducts it’s transactions within the metaphorical underground, and makes it so he spends his days with a group of brilliant  assholes that he considers family, and a discretely wicked boy who he thinks is most probably the love of his god forsaken life.

Mother Mary,  help them all.

~*~

“Padfoot too Moony, are you in, Moony.” 

A moment of static passes before Remus’s voice trickles through the minuscule bluetooth  snuggled in Sirius’s ear, and he can’t help but smirk. “Why are you still trying to make these codenames work—they don’t work, they’re all awful and trash,  and we should just stick with the numbers we were given when Moody first scouted us.”

“Mmm yeah, Moons, talk dirty to me.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,”

“Say trash again.”

“I hate you,” Remus intones. He  sounds all surly and bothered, and Sirius’s fingers curl together to card through the phantom strands  of his hair, knowing full and well how adorably flustered Remus gets whenever they are having one of their little sparring sessions—It’s also the same look he gets whenever he’s incredibly turned on and has no idea how to handle it. Coincidence? Sirius thinks not.

“Ah, Moony, my love, you say that as if my perfect baritone isn’t the highlight of your day. Like you don’t write sonnets and odes about it’s every cadence and lilt in your little diary you think I don’t know about. As if—“

“I’m shutting you off now,” Remus cuts in with his best, I’m trying to pretend  that I am so totally annoyed even if I’m actually really amused by you and all your antics, voice. It’s one that’s basically come second nature to him whenever he speaks to Sirius, ever since they had met three years ago and Sirius had to teach him the trick of the trade after Remus had been invited into the fold, while also trying not to completely accost him with his lips and hands and teeth until the work day was over.

“You would never.” 

“You seriously have an overinflated sense of worth if you’re starting to doubt that I very much would,” Remus goads, but he forgets that Sirius can see every nook and cranny of the swanky penthouse from his perch in the getaway van, thanks to his very beautiful laptop monitor.  And yeah, Sirius can so totally spot that little flicker of a grin tugging on the edges of his pink lips,  where Remus is trying to hide it behind the flute of wine in his grasp—his very strong and capable grasp, one that’s wrapped around the neck of that glass just so tight—Oh, erm, yeah. That’s  a thought Sirius should definitely not be having at their current predicament.

“Righto, beautiful, whatever you say.”

“Was there an actual reason for your little interference, besides you being pissy that you had to take the get away position this time around?” Remus sighs, long suffering before offering a subdued, half grin to a very haughty looking woman passing him, predatory leer on her plump lips. And jeez, Sirius bemoans her poor eardrums if they’re suppose to be carrying diamonds that thick all night long— Poor hag will probably end up needing stitches like his dear mother.

“I missed you is all, lover.”

“Goodbye, Sirius.”

“Oh fine, you total spoil sport. Just an FYI that Marlene’s gotten into the volt’s room, and she’s decoding it as we speak.”

“Oh, good. Should I-“

“Moons, it’s Marls, she’s got her shit handled. You just stand there and be a the good, pretty honeypot that we all know you can be.”

Remus growls somewhere deep in his throat, and it’s bringing a flurry of such beautiful imaginings to the forefront of Sirius’s mind— including last night, with Remus’s lovely, thin wrists tied up and Sirius’s mouth trailing up and down his every patch of skin.

God, was that a good night.

“You’re a pain in my ass.” 

“I know, it’s a point of pride for me that I get to say I tap that. But hey, always game to switch things up if you are?”

“You are the absolute worst person ever.”

“Ooo are we circling back around to speaking filthy things, because I’ve been having this fantasy including you and these lace—“

That’s when Remus actually does shut off the communication device, and starts chatting up some smarmy businessman who can’t stop staring at his protruding collarbones.

Sirius is most certainly not jealous.

Nope, not at all—Not even a little bit.

Sirius is not jealous.

Okay, fine…So he’s a bit bothered, but can anyone blame him? All of that—chorded muscles and sparkling eyes—is reserved for  Sirius, and Sirius alone. It’s taken years of volleying barbs and really intense sexual tension that was all finally resolved after a way too dramatic spat outside some sleazy BDSM club on the wrong side of town where Sirius got himself fucking shot, and Remus couldn’t stop yelling at him for being such a mother fucking, idiotic, thoughtless prick, (Remus’s words not Sirius’s,) for them to finally get to this point. For fuck’s sake, it seemed as if Remus’s anger fueled diatribe would never end, so Sirius just took the dilemma into his own hands and slanted their lips together, bloody and breathless, panting out an “I love you too,” while Remus just patted up and down Sirius’s torso, not knowing where to put his hands, dumbfounded and eager. As if he could hardly believe that it was actually happening, as if he was shocked that Sirius had finally just put them out of their mutual misery and spoke out loud what’s been lingering in their gazes, and tailing the ends of too short exchanges for years at that point—ones always composed of banter and barbs but always to fearful to take the extra step they yearned for.

Yeah, so it wasn’t exactly a cinderella story level of romance, but the point is they’ve fought tooth and nail to finally get to this point in their relationship. Nights made up of spilt hair on warm sheets, and  hungry kisses of farewell, and shirts tumbling together so many times that  they don’t even know which belongs to who anymore—All of them lingering with a sent of both of them, together. Something intimate. Something remarkable. Something far too soft when considering their line of employment—But it works for’m, and that’s all that counts.

Before Sirius could get to lost in getting all starry-eyed over the life they’ve built for themselves, Sirius moves to sweep his hands across the keyboard, A cautious eye still on Remus and his unwanted suitor while dividing the screen so that he can check back on Marlene’s progress, which is quite impressive if he does say so himself.

“And Black Widow pulls through again,” He commends with a low whistle, watching her practically stroll out of the volt, ancient artifact securely settled in the bag swinging off her shoulder, and cocky sneer proudly splayed across her pretty face.

“You know it dweeb.”

“THat’s not my code name,” Sirius points out  with a put upon exhale.

Marlene’s only response is to hike up her manicured brows in counterfeit surprise.  “you sure? I could’ve sworn…”

Sirius legitimately contemplates just driving off and leaving her stranded, signaling to Remus a separate meet up point for just the both of them. But Eventually, he reasons  that might be a bit of an over reaction. So he settles for just growling out a reminder for her  to “Respect the name,” while a glowing Marlene slinks into the passenger seat.

“Your so precious.” Sirius swats her hand away where she’s begun rubbing her knuckles into his scalp. “Call pretty boy and let’s bounce, will you?”

Reluctant, Sirius listens—only and only because he’s about ninety nine point five percent positive that she could probably beat’m to a pulp with one hand tied behind her back and both eyes glued shut.

~*~

The mission was one they’ve been calculating for months, a huge catch with a credibility brought with it that doubles its actual monetary prophet—(And wowza, that price check is all levels of ridiculous.) Moody is beyond  proud, and tells them as much with a crazy large celebration back at their little underground headquarters, (which is actually an entire floor on one of the top levels of a huge ass skyscraper in the meatpacking district that disguises itself as just a financial consultant firm in the light of day.)

It’s made even more wonderful considering how he, Remus and Marlene are basically the guests of honor for their success. So that night  they drink, and dance and just generally get absolutely slobbered…Then subsequently remember nothing the following morning, as tradition always dictates.

Though Sirius does  distinctly remember trading sloppy hand jobs in the bathroom with Remus while the latest Beyonce banger pounds in the space between them.

 It’s a good night.

~*~

Unsurprisingly, the hangover that persists even two days later really makes Sirius question the worth of all that celebrating, and he ponders on whether or not being sober would be so bad.

“Morning, Black!” 

Sirius cringes back at a crowing Dorcas—Looking as wickedly gorgeous and put together as always—Dark eyes clear and methodic, and long curls obviously freshly washed. 

“Sorcerous!” He accuses with as much vehemence as he could muster. “your evil! How are you even so perky! Stop it! Stop! You’re hurting my eyes!”

Dorcas just preens with far too much amusement than what should be warranted—it’s almost as if she’s enjoying his pitiful disposition. “Not all of us got as sloppy as you Saturday night may I remind.”

“Then you’re doing your entire life incorrectly.”

“I just have a modicum of self restraint, unlike you.”

“Lies! Lies and slander! I am so very disciplined! I didn’t even tell you guys about the time Remus gave me a blow job in the middle of a glass elevator when we were shopping for Jamsie and Lily’s engagement gift!”

Dorcas just rolls her eyes heavenwards, painstakingly exasperated. “C’mon, dumb ass, Alice needs you to use those hacking skills of yours to get the money Lestrange still owes us for collecting those tears of the ocean. And her bank account is sealed shut.”

“Ah, no Cas ’s too early! And my head hurts! I can’t.”

“Shouldn’t have been such a drunken mess during the party I reckon,” Dorcas scoffs with an imperious tilt of the head, tugging him along without even an ounce of sympathy.

“Hey! It was a celebration!” Sirius flails, and Dorcas just looks at him with a decidedly unconvinced glower. 

“It’s all in moderation Sirius.”

“Not at a party it isn’t!” He argues back, totally knowing he’s in the right.

“Yeah whatever, you’re just lucky you weren’t sent off to Shanghai with lover boy, which by the way,” Dorcas pivots on her heels  to face Sirius straight on, prodding at the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder.  “Looks like you missed a hickey sweets,” she toots loftily, poking at it again, a flush blooming across Sirius’s cheeks in response.  “Not good work decorum if you ask me.”

“You’re face ’s not good work decorum,” Sirius snarks back mulishly. Dorcas just laughs with glee.

“Do I need to talk to poor, innocent Remus about proper biting placement for you once he gets back?”

“Pff, Remus and innocent don’t belong in the same sentence.”

“Fine, then  I can just give you some tips on how to properly layer foundation? I’m sure it’s a travesty how easily shit shows up with your Wonder Bread complexion.”

“You actually are evil! Aren’t you?”

Sirius could still hear Dorcas’s cackles from down the hall where Alice has set him up for the morning, and he idly thinks to himself how exactly he’s made it so that every woman in his life could destroy him with nothing more than a look.

~*~

Considering that all of their  livelihoods are basically glorified bank robbers, Sirius knows that their jobs don’t really lend themselves to being able to check in on each other whenever they’d please—the only devices they’re allowed for communication are the bluetooth sets  for the team deployed on the task at hand, and a single burner. It can get annoying sometimes, but Sirius and Remus always make it a point to send each other a message from the router phone  whenever they arrive to the mission’s ground of operation—It’s a practice ingrained into them, one  they began long before they ever started dating, one  that they never break, not even if they’re arguing or it’s the middle of the night—It’s important. They’ve both lost to many people in their short lives, and they both know how it feels to be delegated to the worrying mess, wondering what’s happening to their loved one, being consumed by the most awful of possibilities. They do it because they respect each other far too much not to.

So Sirius finds it excruciatingly odd that he doesn’t hear from Remus in over thirty-six hours since he left to the Shanghai hit. 

“Maybe he just forgot, Pads,” James shrugs, always the level headed ringleader. “No Proclivity is absolutely bullet proof—Ah, excuse me for the unplanned pun.” He scratches the back of his head a little sheepishly— the glasses of his wireframes glinting in the light of their shared workspace.

And the thing is, point. James is totally right. Remus just could’ve forgot. It was a long plane ride, he could’ve just been jet legged and a little dazed and it could’ve just slipped his mind  to message Sirius when he landed. That’s totally a possibility. 

But see the thing is, that’s also totally not a possibility—like at all. Remus is like the most diligent person on the face of the planet, which may kind of seem out of character considering how he’s more of the type to follow his heart over protocol when it counts, and his entire livelihood is based off the evasion of the law—But even still, Remus is also the guy who likes a true and tried method. He likes having security in the aspects of his everyday  life he can control. Sirius knows how borderline neurotic Remus can get about certain things, like finishing all of his paper work the night it’s given, or having a stable workout regiment, and a bunch of other minuscule, everyday things that tethers him. But Sirius also knows that the texts Remus sends him blows all of those out of the water. They’re something crucial—something vitally important. If the roles were reversed, if it were Sirius who forgot to send the text, then yeah, Remus would have a perfect history to look back on and just shrug it off as Sirius having been thoughtless, no big deal. Remus would just make a note to give him  an ear full when he gets back. 

But the rolls aren’t reversed.

It’s Remus who didn’t send anything, and Sirius knows it in his heart of hearts that this is not normal, that Remus would never have forgotten. Remus would never have fucking been able to go to sleep without passing Sirius a message of safe arrival. It’s just not him. 

James still looks unsure even after Sirius’s way to verbose and borderline babbling explanation of why he knows something isn’t adding up, so he decides to hit him below the belt.

“If this were Lily you wouldn’t be second guessing this.” 

James jolts back as if Sirius had just smacked him, which Sirius guesses is kind of true, in the metaphoric sense at the very least. But whatever, Sirius’s right, and he knows it. 

IF this was Lily— the beautiful, kind baker that James had met coincidentally on a random Sunday afternoon, someone completely divorced from this world— well, there would  be no room for discussion.

“IF this were Lily you would trust your gut, and we’d already know what went wrong. We’d know that you were right, the she wasn’t safe.” Sirius’s face feels heated, and he knows that his throat is closing up, but he can’t help it god damn it. This is Remus—And even the thought of him being in any way hurt—No, Sirius refuses to think that way. Because he’s not, he can’t be. This is Remus god damn it. He’s brilliant and strong and he can handle himself. He’s what everyone in their group secretly strive to be—He’s not hurt, he can’t be hurt.

James just sits there, gawking at Sirius, for a moment of pure and utter silence. Sirius doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t fold back from the intensity in his best friend’s— his brother’s— gaze. 

“This is Remus god damn it, James”

Something fierce rippling over his face, James nods, finally seeming to understand.

“Let’s tell Moody,  and call a group meeting. We need to figure out what the hell’s going on.” 

Sirius sags with the little relief he’s given, pretends that it doesn’t feel like there’s not a wildfire still spreading over his chest  from the  bone deep fear.

~*~

Two hours later finds their little ragtag group huddled in the largest meeting room they have, and  Sirius hunched over a menacing letter that was hand delivered by one of Lestrange’s ghoulish little minions— Crouch if their intel is correct. 

“Any news is good news, right?” Peter— their mousey little researcher— says in some weak attempt of comfort from where he’s silently been situated in the love seat the furthest away from the lump some, and Sirius replies by snarling viciously at him;  making Peter shutter back, like the spineless weasel Sirius has always assumed him to be.

Sirius is not comforted. Sirius is furious and sick and he hates everything  in sight. And all Sirius could think of is Remus, Remus, Remus.

“What do we do,” James’s voice is strong, convicted in the painful silence of the room—But when Sirius looks up, he could still see the worry etched into his handsome features, and the fear threaded into his stance. 

James is scared, and that might worry Sirius more than anything else could. 

“This is my fault, I sanctioned just stealing the money she owed us and I was the one who thought Remus would be fine on a solo mission—I thought it’d be a simple grab. I didn’t put two and two together—I just didn’t—“ Alice breaks off, looking away from the group, and Frank slings an arm around his wife’s slender shoulders.

“Hey now, ’s not your fault, ’s not no ones,” as if to emphasize his point, Frank gives a downright menacing grimace to everyone in the room, daring them to disagree. “It’s Remus, he’s resilient. And that bitch knows if he’s actually hurt we’ll destroy everything she’s ever built for herself.” 

“Don’t be so sure,” Sirius’s surprised of the jaggedness of his own voice, leveling him with a look of utter fury. “She’s a psychotic, selfish, self indulgent bitch—There’s worse things than just beating him up or locking him in some cellar.” 

From the corner of his eye he sees Alice shutter, is briefly reminded of that stint where she was badly injured after a run in with one of the darker ringleaders in their line of work, Riddle. And then he remembers, unbidden, how that bastard has some sort of fucked up Harley Quinn, Joker esthetic going on with Bellatrix Lestrange— and a sick, twisted part of Sirius that actually does blame Alice for sanctioning those two risky missions so close together, is savagely pleased of the effect that the reminder has on her. But the rest of Sirius is just disgusted by himself and hates himself even more when remembering where Remus is at this very moment, and what he must be going through. There’s no time to be pointing fingers, and Sirius knows it.

“Whatever, no time to think of it now,” Sirius rises, and the way all of their eyes follow his every move (Even Moody who is the actual boss— doesn’t go over his head. 

“What do you think we should do from here?” Dorcas asks in a small voice, clutching onto the letter like a life line—She’s Remus’s best friend, Sirius knows that, knows that she stopped only skirting  along the edges of this unsavory line of work until Remus came along and helped her wiggle out of her shell. And the reminder makes Sirius feel such a burst of aching for Remus all at once that he nearly topples over, just barely catches himself with a hand on the tabletop.

“Peter,” Sirius barks, making the blonde finally straighten. “Check out where Bellatrix is scheduled to appear next.”

“Ah, erm on it, of course.” 

Sirius starts to feel a little better—no not better, balanced. He knows what needs to be done, what will   happen next, knows that it’ll turn out all right. 

It has to turn out all right, because he can’t fathom a world where it doesn’t— a world without Remus isn’t worth even a breath.

~*~

If there’s anything that Sirius knows about supreme bitch face herself, it’s that Bellatrix is  cavalier to a fault. So it really doesn’t surprise him when Peter finds out that she’s holding a little gala for her new play things art exhibit in her own home that night, and Sirius intends on giving his congratulations, whether or not he’s on the guest list. 

~*~

“Hey, can you hear me.” 

Sirius presses an inconspicuous finger onto his eardrum when Dorcas’s voice breaks through, speaking the affirmative. 

“All right, well Moody says that upstairs is most likely where you’ll find’m. Marlene and James will stay down at the party just incase anything goes wrong.” 

“Right,” Sirius nods to himself, trying to put together all the new information that’s swimming in his mind. “Thanks Cas.”

“Stay safe, and bring him home. Don’t fuck this up, Sirius.” Her voice is small and fragile. Sirius could picture the gleam to her big doe eyes. “We need you both safe.”

“Of course."

~*~

As expected, the upstairs is a labyrinth of doors and alcoves that Sirius could barely wrap his mind around, the only constant thought is that it makes sense that Bellatrix would want to keep the money from the job she had them perform for her. The rent for this place definitely can’t be cheap.

Sirius tries at least ten different rooms before he comes across one that’s locked from the inside as well as a deadbolt, and His heart seizes with a choked sort of hope before he starts pounding against it. 

“Remus! Remus! Are you in there!” His voice goes ragged at how loud he’s screaming, but Sirius doesn’t let up. He starts calling  for him even louder if possible. “Remus!” 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Sirius stiffens, his blood running cold before slowly turning around to a very amused looking Bellatrix Lestrange. Predatory sneer swept across her blood red lips, and weight slung to her left hip. The picture of radiance and leisure in her slinky, black dress. She’s having fun toying with Sirius, with all of them. 

“Where the fuck is he,” Sirius spits out tersely—trying to sear wholes right through her disarming face. He thinks with a start  that she’d be pretty in an almost unchanging way—a timeless elegance that kind of mirrors Remus’s. But where beneath Remus’s golden exterior is all passion and goodness and an endless capacity of love, under Bellatrix’s pale white skin and dark eyes and sheets of even darker hair is just ugliness and cruelty and Sirius has never hated anyone more, or so intensely.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry that they sent the best of their group to the den,” She swaggers up to him, each step premeditated—a lion closing in on her prey, and her leer right then— self assured and cruel all at once— is like a mirror of his mother’s so thoroughly that it’s painful. “I’d really hate to ruin those movie star good looks you’ve got going on,” she runs the back of her hand down his face slowly, tendrils of her warm breath edging his lips. “And honey, you really are so deliciously gorgeous. But Moody needs to learn that no one double plays me so flippantly. No  respect, that kind of behavior  really can’t be tolerated. You understand that, don’t you  love?”

Right then, Bellatrix moves to  gouge Sirius right in the stomach with a dagger she had hidden in the sleeve of her dress—but Sirius’s quicker. 

He sweeps Bellatrix’s feet right from under her, twisting her arm behind her back and using her own weapon to chop off the doorknob, all in one fluid movement. Though,  he only has a sparing moment to feel boastful before he steps into the room to find Remus—sickly looking with blood matted in his golden locks, before everything turns to a buzzing in  the background—Sirius runs on autopilot, with the only crucial thought being to get Remus out safely. 

“Baby, I’m here, I’ve got you.” Sirius tells him with the words catching in his throat, and feels such a drowning amount of relief when he hears a gargled retort from Remus. “I’d never let anything happen to you, love. I’m so sorry. I’ll never let something like this happen again.” Sirius tells him with all the earnestness in the world, gently collecting him into his arms. “I’ve got you now, I won’t let go.” The promise is  as sure and true as the pump of his heart—Remus, Remus, Remus.

~*~

When they all return to headquarters, everyone circles a still limp and shallowly breathing Remus, while Dorcas figures out the extent of his injuries.

It’s the worst hour of his life Sirius thinks—The not knowing, it hurts like nothing else. And he swears once more, to himself and the moonlight and the stars peeking through the skyline that he’ll never let this happen, never again., doesn’t want Remus ever out of his sight.

~*~

A week later, and everything feels as if it’s back to normal—more or less.

Their bedroom smells like sage—thanks to the candles Lily bought Remus for his last birthday—And Remus’s swaddled into the most comfortable blanket Sirius could find—his twisted ankle elevated, and a fresh bowl of soup on his night stand.

It’d be the picture of absolute bliss… Now if Remus wasn’t scowling so morosely. 

“You seem mad,” Sirius notes, standing over him with a freshly fluffed pillow. Remus looks up at him from under his spider leg lashes, so very unimpressed.

“You’ve never taken care of me  nearly so intently   a day in your life.”  Remus charges.

“Untrue!” Sirius squawks in contrary. 

“When I got food poising from that sushi place last year, you blamed me for eating it wrong.”

“Yeah, well it’s blasphemous to ever blame Kimiko! The woman is a titan!” 

Remus’s mouth quirks up, his eyes twinkling with unadulterated adoration. “You’re an idiot.”

Sirius deflates. “Okay, so I might be kind of majorly mother penning it right now,” Remus cranes a incredulous brow. “Okay, okay so a lot mother penning it. But, Remus— love— you were missing—like legitimately missing. And then i found you and you were…” He trails off, can’t even speak the horrors of that night. 

“Yeah, I was,” Remus links their fingers together, pulling Sirius closer, and opening his mouth so that when Sirius crouches to come face to face, he can kiss him properly.  “But you happen to be a pretty all right boyfriend, you found me—I’m fine. You made sure of that.”

“More than all right prick,” Sirius knocks their foreheads together and Remus feigns being in excruciating pain. “I fucking hate you,” he snorts, saddling against Remus’s side, and nuzzling into his neck, taking in the miraculous scent of him— the citrus and cinnamon and sunlight that he’s come to crave at all hours of the day. “I love you sort of a lot, and it was the worst three days of my life, all right. Can you understand that?” 

Remus only hums,  kisses the tips of Sirius��s fingers before lacing them into his own.

“I understand, love, but Sirius, I’m fine. I’m here. You’re amazing, but you don’t need to protect me. Not constantly. This is our lives, and I need you to trust me that I can handle myself for the most part. All right?” 

Sirius makes a displeased sound, lips curled distastefully, and it makes Remus actually giggle like they were school boys again. And Jesus, Remus’s smile is blinding and beautiful and fucking hell, he’s here. He’s back in there room, back in Sirius’s arms.

“God, I missed you.”

Remus crunches upwards, kissing Sirius, and it feels like a promise that he’ll never leave him again. “I love you Sirius.”

Sirius leers, isn’t ready to have the conversation about learning how to let Remus go out without him. So instead he traces his thumb over Remus’s beautifully plump bottom lip, and bends down to whisper into his ear. “So can we talk about the lace then, because I’ve made some purchases and—“

Remus pushes him off their bed, and Sirius feels his laughter punching out of him in response.

~*~

~My Wolfstar FIC Index💜

[takaraphoenix]

spuffy for the ask game since you have a spuffy story coming up on your schedule?

Yes, yes I do! And sure can do! ^-^

I love Spuffy. It has been one of my absolute favorite ships from all fandoms for many years, but ever since I also read the comic continuation, I gotta say, Spuffy is the favorite ship. The most beloved of all ships I've ever sailed.

They are the embodiment of hero/villain enemies turned lovers.

And they have my favorite m/f dynamic; he's full of snark and bastard energy, but oh is he soft for her.

And they also have that thing that makes me love ships the most; it's a ship between my two favorite characters from that franchise. If a ship unites my two faves, it just instantly gains more of my love, because it means I get them both, at the same time, happy, with each other.

I love the way their dynamic slowly changes over the seasons.

I have a soft spot for early bastard secondary villain Spike, he is hilarious and Buffy's annoyance with him is delightful.

And then he has his literal oh moment of realizing he's into Buffy and he doesn't know how to handle it and he handles it in the whackiest, weirdest way possible. I mean, role playing with Harm? Having Warren build a sex bot? The incredibly awkard stalking?

But things get more serious and less of a comic relief "look at that poor bastard" when Spike becomes one of the people Buffy trusts. One of the people she trusts the most, I'd say, considering she leaves her mother and her sister with him, repeatedly.

Season 5 is such a good Spuffy season in that Spike becomes a Scooby by sheer force of will. Somewhere in my mind still lives an alternate spin where the Scoobies do escape Glory in their RV and just... have a merry roadtrip with each other.

And sure, it's easy to dismiss Spike - easy for Buffy and the other characters. Because he's a vampire, and not a fancy one with a soul like Angel. He might lust for Buffy, but it can't be love, right.

But, and that's what makes me love this ship so much, it is love, even without a soul. (It's also what makes me love Spike so much, because he is such a complex character with so much growth who was already so much more than just a vampire even without his soul.)

Him bringing flowers after Joyce died, not to somehow score points with Buffy, but because he genuinely liked Joyce and they had genuinely bonded with each other. Because he mourns, even without a soul.

And, the biggest evidence as to him genuinely loving her - he stays, when Buffy dies.

If it were all misplaces lust that he blows out of proportion, he wouldn't have stayed. Buffy was dead and since Willow, Tara and Xander didn't tell him about wanting to resurrect her, he had no reason to stay, no reason to believe she would ever be back.

But he stayed in Sunnydale. And not just to mourn and get drunked and fucked up, the way he did when Dru dumped him.

He was a Scooby. For months, he worked with them to protect Sunnydale, to fight demons, to help raise Dawn. He took on so much responsibility and for the first time truly became a hero, a good guy. He fought for the good cause, not to impress Buffy and score points with her, not out of any misplaced reasons. Solely because she was gone and he wanted to honor her legacy, he wanted to do what she would do if she were still there, he wanted to protect those she had died to protect.

I have a very complicated relationship to season 6's Spuffy. It's very self-destructive, on both parts. She's only using him, he becomes her bad coping mechanism with being brought back to life. And he knows that, but he can't stay away. Personally, I think all of Seeing Red was a huge mistake and especially after the build-up of what they had Spike do for Buffy so far without a soul, it... it felt like a whole different writer with entirely different ideas just grabbed the script and hijacked it at that point, to be quite frank. I do think that at that point in how Spike's character was established, it was OoC. Even if you try to argue that their relationship had already been a mess of mixed signals, with "I hate you, you disgust me" being followed by mindblowing sex, I still think that this was pushing things too far.

But it brought us Spike going to get his soul, so I digress.

And then comes season 7 and season 7 is just peak Spuffy. Season 7 is my happy place. Gods. The way Buffy cares for him, the way she protects him, from the others, from the First, from himself. The way she stands up for him. How she keeps choosing him.

The way they banter and raise "the children" together once he feels better.

And when everyone in an act of being incredibly, impossibly, forcibly OoC just turns their back on Buffy and also stabs hers, repeatedly, he is still there. He tells them off the way I was yelling at my screen too and then he found her and comforted her and simply held her.

And then he died. Not for her, but because he actually was a hero. And it wrecked me. (The best thing AtS ever did was bring Spike back to live, imo.)

Let's skip season 8 to the end, where he comes in as the knight in shining armor, having done his research on how to stop the apocalypse unfolding once again and how, even though she had just hooked up with Angel, she immediately starts fantasizing about Spike as soon as he's in the room? I swear, season 8 is a freaking mess.

But season 9... really hurts. That she'd come to him, of all the people she knows and loves, she comes to him when she doesn't know how to keep going, when she considers running away and raising a child, being a family. He is the person she thinks about. And he is the person she comes to for back-up when she decides to have an abortion. Whether she goes to a happy place or a dark place, in both scenarios she chose him over everyone else, to have him at her side.

And season 10 finally gives us the canon romantic relationship between them. Finally, they actually get together and it is so good. The way they communicate with each other, the way she reassures him that she chose him and no one's going to come between them, tells him that he is a good man and also finds for herself that she is not just happy in this relationship, she also finds that she loves herself more, she likes the person she is when she is with him (she literally says that).

Buffy has a freaking mind-journey, traveling into Spike's mind and seeing and feeling just how much he loves her, how regardless of what else is going on, he loves her.

They are... They are everything I always dreamed they could be in a real relationship - they have their problems, but they talk them through, they reassure and support each other, they're domestic and cute, they make each other better, not by changing the other but by supporting the other and giving each other the chance to be their best self.

When they actually are in a real relationship, neither of them is jealous. And both have shown in the past to be prone to jealousy. But when Buffy tells Spike that Angel is her past and that he is her present, he accepts that and he doesn't feel the need to be a jackass around Angel. And when Spike tells Buffy about his could-have-been Dylan, Buffy doesn't get jealous over her, no, she decides they should go to Dylan's art-show and she gets along splendidly with her.

Season 11 is an overall rough ride, I mean, they are literally locked inside an internment camp for nearly the whole season. But the Spuffy keeps you going, because they are so strong together, they make this work, together.

The season ends with them kissing, with Buffy saying "I love you" for the very first time and all Scoobies being together and it's... the picture-perfect ending to Buffy the Vampire Slayer that I could have ever imagined.

(There is no season 12 in my mind. That was Fray-centric garbage that did a disservice to Buffy as a character.)

Send me a ship and I will explain why I do or don't ship it

[gogglor]

Cap-Ironman RecWeek: Laugh Out Loud Friday

Third to last installment for @cap-ironman rec week, and today we’re focusing on fics that, in my humble opinion, are flipping hysterical. For me that tends to mean lots of snarky banter, but I found some hysterical situation comedy in my favs folder too when I was looking for recs today. In any event, if you’re in the mood for a giggle, here’s some fics that’ll deliver in spades.

Moanin’

Author: Captain_Panda

Word Count: 1,041

Summary: Wet. Steamy. Sultry. Jazz.  It's jazz.  In a bathtub.

Why You Should Read It:

Captain_Panda’s another Stony gem that puts out good stuff on the regular, and this one’s just such a delightful gem.

Tony is naked, sick, and high on cough syrup. Steve needs to get him a dinner held in his honor. Honestly, the mental imagery alone is enough to do it for me; it is a firm principle of mine that far more people should write naked, high Tony Stark. This fic’s short, but it’s a great one to go back to if you’re looking for something light and silly.

Bells Will Be Ringing

Author: scifigrl47

Word Count: 29,651

Summary: Steve Rogers is in love with Tony Stark.  He's determined that he's finally going to do something about that.   Christmas is a time for love and togetherness, and now may be the best chance he has. But some things aren't as simple as they should be.

Why You Should Read It:

I absolutely cannot let a funny Stony fic list happen without recommending something by sci, because dear lord in heaven they are a funny SOB. Pick any of their fics at random and you’ll end up with something equal parts hilarious and delightful. It’s honestly a crime that their work is available for free.

This fic is yet another sci masterpiece, complete with their regular hallmarks of the best goddamn banter I’ve ever read, well-developed characters, spectacular world-building, and a lovely emotional payoff at the end. Additionally, it is absolutely hysterical. If you wanna read about the Avengers Council of Lesbians and what happens if you give Clint Barton a box of Pixie Stix, give it a read.

A Good Vintage

Author: JenTheSweetie

Word Count: 6,727

Summary:  “You own a what?” After Ultron shows up, instead of taking the Avengers to his secret family, Clint takes them to his secret winery.  Things go… a little bit differently.

Why You Should Read It:

Honestly, it’s become a bit of a meme in the POTS server that everyone’s always recommending this fic, because A) It does not have nearly enough kudos, and B) Holy crap is it funny.

Clint owns a secret winery instead of a secret farm, and everybody goes there to lie low during Age of Ultron. There is drinking, and swimming, and 90′s hiphop, and a heck of a lot of nachos. Drunk decisions are made. Just a lovely Stony fic with a side of team bonding.

There’s Something Aboot Steve

Author: epicycles

Word Count: 2,314

Summary: "You know, it makes a lot of sense," Tony mused aloud, once all the shouting was over.  "You're so polite, you like maple syrup, you wear a lot of plaid."

Why You Should Read It:

Another one for the silly and delightful pile.

It turns out, Steve Rogers was born in Canada before immigrating to the U.S. when he was a few months old. What will the public say? Will Canada try to take him back? Are the Avengers prepared to fight their hockey-loving brethren to rescue Steve from the clutches of trained polar bears? All that and more answered in this fic.

Even My Phone Misses Your Call

Author: rainbowninja167

Word Count: 10,869

Summary:  Steve makes it all the way to Ohio before conceding that the post-Chitauri road trip might’ve been a mistake. Or, ten times Steve has to call Tony to come pick him up.

Why You Should Read It:

This one’s got more feels in in than what’s been on the list so far, but it’s all balanced perfectly against some damn funny stuff. Steve keeps getting into tight spots for one reason or another, and keeps calling Tony to come pick him up. Friendship, then something else develops from there.

One thing I really like about this one is that both Tony and Steve get to be the funny one. Snarky Steve is such a gift, as is “The serum enhanced all my senses except my common sense” Steve, and “I would be delighted to let you mistake me for a choirboy” Steve, all if which is present here. Add in some mutual pining and some high-quality smut and you’ve got a really delightful fic.

Out of Order

Author: elwenyere

Word Count: 4,368

Summary: After Tony and Steve hook up in the Tower elevator, both of them are totally cool with keeping it casual. Totally, totally cool.

Why You Should Read It:

El’s another author it wouldn’t feel right leave out of a list of funny as hell Stony writers, and one whose works you could draw from at random and strike gold.

This one tells a story through times Steve and Tony ride the elevator together, because why have one bottle episode when you can have six? Tony is a snarky bastard, Steve is a smitten grump, both of them are garbage communicators, and at one point Clint spills a bunch of Milk Duds and goes “Aww, Milk Duds no!”. I literally cannot tell you why I find that last one so funny but that scene lives rent-free in my head under a big sign that says “Examples of the Clint Barton We Should’ve Had in the MCU.” Anyway, go read this sweet, funny, delightful fic, it’ll be the highlight of your day.

Lastly, one self-rec, because a witch sent me into the woods to find a cow as white as milk, a cape as red as blood, a hair as yellow as corn, and 10,000 AO3 kudos.

Stupid Sexy Avengers

Author: gogglor

Word Count: 22,624

Summary: Tony, Steve, Nat, Clint, Bruce, Thor, Jane, and Rhodey all tell each other the funniest thing that's ever happened to them related to their sex lives. If you're interested in hearing the Avengers tell stories about their lives that are funny and mortifying and surprisingly sweet, you've found your fic.

Why You Should Read It:

It’s Clint’s birthday, and as a birthday present he asks Steve and Tony to tell him what happened that got Steve to stop being so shy about making sex jokes. The end result is everyone around the common room telling each other the funniest thing that’s ever happened to them related to their sexual histories.

This one’s a part 2 of a series, but I deliberately wrote it to stand on its own, so there’s no need to go back and read part 1. In it, you’ll find stories of disastrous language misunderstandings, ideas so bad only horny teenagers could think of them, the bonds of friendship forged and tested (in one case literally), and a giant blue glittery dildo named “Mr. Dick.” Personally I think it’s one of the funnier things I’ve ever written, but what do I know, I’m just a Tumblr post you didn’t even pay to read.

We’ve got two more days of Cap-Ironman RecWeek, and I am delighted to tell you all that some of the best is yet to come. Ta-ta for now!

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Thin Line

Summary: You’re wild and free. She’s strict and trained. You and Natasha are polar opposites and it drives her crazy. Each move you make annoys her to no end. But, there’s a thin line between annoyance and adoration.

Rating: 18+ Violence, Language, Blood, Death, and Smut.

Chapter 6

"All right, what do you see?” Steve’s voice rings through your ear piece.

Your eyes scan your surroundings, taking in the passersby and the basic chaos of a populated city.

Wanda, being the one in training, replies to Steve,“ standard beat cops. Small station. Quiet street. It’s a good target.”

“What exactly is a good target? Like, if it’s a target doesn’t that automatically  make it bad?”

Wanda snickers at your comment and Steve ignores it before running through the general surveillance with her and directing her attention to a car parked across the street. 

"It's also bulletproof, which means private security, which means more guns, which means more headaches for somebody. Probably us.” Natasha remarks, causing you to instantly glance over at her.

She quirks an eyebrow at you over her cup of tea, quickly refocusing.

Wanda is quick to inform you all,“ you guys know I can move things with my mind, right?” 

“Neat trick but it’s not that simple.” You inform her.

Natasha agrees, telling her,“ looking over your shoulder needs to become second nature.”

“Anybody ever tell you you're a little paranoid?” Sam, your other teammate throws out.

“Not to my face. Why? Did you hear something?”

Laughing, you duck your head and cross the street, eyes following the traffic.

Steve tells everyone to focus. Rumlow is a pain in his ass and this is the closest Steve’s been in a while to shutting him up.

“Right, focusing.” Your eyes narrow,“ Sam mind tagging this garbage truck comin up on me? This guy is the worst driver.” You shake your head at the way the truck speeds through traffic with no regard to it’s surroundings. 

You hear Sam speaking to his gadgets, pulling up an x-ray of the truck, and then telling you all that it’s at max weight and the driver is armed.

“It’s a battering ram.” Both you and Natasha say.

Steve tells everyone to engage immediately, Wanda being a little confused as you then explain that the target isn’t the police station.

You hear Steve fighting before anyone else, calling out how many hostiles are left and what armor they’re packing. Soon after Sam and Wanda join the fight. 

Natasha pulls up on her motorcycle and you immediately climb on, her speeding you both to the IFID. 

“Rumlow has a biological weapon.” Steve breathes heavily.

“On it.” Natasha calls and the second she pulls on the throttle you pick up on her plan. 

You stand and jump off the motorcycle, over Natasha, and straight into an enemy. Your feet kick into his chest and he falls back just as Natasha’s motorcycle scrapes across the ground into the guy behind you.

Winking at her, and picking up on her smug smirk, you quickly engage the other hostiles in the area. 

Groans and complaints hum through the ear pieces as you all take down enemies. You catch small glimpses of your team fighting, but you don’t see Rumlow. Which is equally as good as it is bad.

Just when you think things are going smoothly you here the distinct sound of Natasha’s groan followed by an explosion. 

Your eyes snap over to the sound and you see her flying out the back of an armored truck, smoke billowing out after. 

“Dammit Nat.” You snatch the head gear of the last hostile and punch him straight in the throat before heading over to Natasha.

She groans and rolls on to her back, soot dirtying her porcelain skin.

“Open those eyes pretty girl,” you pat her cheek gently.

Another explosion sounds behind you and you frown, looking in that direction.

“What is with you guys and bombs today?”

Steve ignores the comment, instead telling Sam that Rumlow’s on the move.

You stand, pulling Natasha up with you, and heading over to the motorcycle. 

The two of you ride it as far as traffic allows before ditching it again to run over car roofs. 

Your informed that they’ve split up and ditched the gear, Natasha tells everyone you guys are following the two on the left while Sam follows the one of the right. 

Rumlow isn’t with either group which concerns you, until you hear him speaking to Steve. Sam calls that his guy doesn’t have the weapon which spurns you and Natasha on. 

It’s not until you’re in a market square that you catch the two. You both incapacitate the targets quickly, with the assistance of Sam’s drone. 

For the briefest moment your lost in Sam and Natasha’s banter, laughing at it until the biggest explosion of the day seemingly shakes the city.

Eyes wide, you and Natasha race to the scene as Steve calls for evacuation and medics. Upon arriving Natasha runs to Steve’s side, but your drawn to the very distraught Wanda.

It doesn’t take long to put two and two together.

“Wan.” You squat to wrap an arm around her shoulders. 

Tears pool in her green eyes as her hand covers her mouth in shock. She’s mumbling something incoherent, over and over. The people around, who aren’t hurt, glare at her or look on in horror. 

“Wan get up, come on.” She rises ever so slowly, trembling in the slightest, and you run your hands up and down her arms.“ I’m taking Maximoff to the jet.” 

The team agrees, obviously knowing exactly why she shouldn’t stick around.

You’re adamant on getting her out of the public eye just as much as you are about getting the civilians to safety.  

A groan involuntarily escapes your mouth as you collapse on your bed back at the compound.

Today was more hectic than ever and you feel it in your bones. 

The shower you took barely worked. Sure you’re clean but you still feel crappy. And if this is how you feel, you can’t begin to imagine what Wanda feels.

“Hey.”

You don’t need to open your eyes to know it’s Natasha. 

“Hey.”

She walks further into the room, after closing the door, and sits next to your laid out form. Her eyes scan your body, lingering on each bruise you received in today’s fight.

Despite having her own bruises and knowing there was no way you could’ve avoided them, she still feels hurt seeing you hurt. 

Knowing that, you pull yourself into a sitting position, and wrap her in your arms.

“What’s goin on this head of yours Romanoff?’ You place a kiss on her temple.

Her body relaxes into you despite the stress running through it,“ nothing.” She lies.

But you don’t push it. Things happen naturally between you two and so whenever she opens up about her thoughts and feelings you want that to be just as natural.

“Okay,” you hum.“ You speak to Wanda?”

That topic alone makes her take in a big breath and sigh,“ she’s torn up. Hating herself. Which is exactly how I felt on my first mission gone wrong.”

You nod, knowing the feeling all too well. Your first bad mission went as horribly as it could have and it tore you apart. 

Natasha of course senses the instant change in you. Sure you weren’t your usual cheeky self but you’re gaze just darkened even more. 

“Tell me.” She whispers, her hand cupping your cheek. 

You hated thinking about it. The memories alone were enough but each time you thought of it the emotions weighed down on you more and more.

*****Flashback*****

Maverick puts the cuffs on your target, hauling him up off the ground, and towards the SUV.

“And here I was thinking you’d be hard to catch.” You taunt, opening the car door, and smiling when Maverick chuckles.

You take the target from Maverick and shove him in the back seat.

“I must admit, your plan worked brilliantly Mav, so drinks on me.” 

His usual cocky remark doesn’t come which makes you frown.

“Don’t act all humble now yo-” your words die in your throat when you see the blood stain on the front of the car. 

Heart now pounding in your chest, you rush around to the passenger side. Lying on the ground, shirt slowly absorbing the blood from his wound, is Maverick. 

You drop to your knees beside him, pulling your mission issued communicator out. 

“HQ come in. We’ve been engaged by an unknown threat. My partner’s down, I need back up and medics now.” As mission control replies you hover over Maverick.

Searching his body for the source of all the blood, you find a bullet wound in his abdomen and another in his chest. He’s starting to gasp for air and you’re trying your best not to panic.

“Stay with me Mav, medics on the way.” You rip your jacket off and apply pressure to his chest wound.

Being focused on Maverick, you make the mistake of not focusing on the things around you. Which results in you being blown back when the SUV explodes, the same SUV holding your target. 

Your ears ring and your head starts to pound. Opening your eyes disorients you but it’s clear to see the fire blazing from what’s left of the car. And it’s also easy to see all the people hurt and killed by the explosion.

There’s so much happening you aren’t even sure what to do. 

"Y/N.” Eyes snap to Maverick as he says your name with the little oxygen he has.“ Go.”

He knows he’s not going to make it, he doesn’t want you to end up like him.

“No, Mav-”

His eyelids start to droop and you feel your heart shattering. When they close, they don’t open again.

*****End Flashback*****

Natasha runs her hand over your back comfortingly but she doesn’t say anything. For two reasons: one, she doesn’t know what to say and two, even if she did, she knows no words could make this better.

“I can’t say he was my best friend cause outside of work we barely hung out. But then again, I didn’t really have friends outside of work so he was the closest thing I had. Losing him-” you sigh and blink away tears.“ I haven’t worked with another person since he died. It made it easier, not having to watch out for someone else.”

Fingers, combing through your hair, Natasha says,“ knowing you, I bet you felt pretty alone.”

“Yeah, of course, but like I said, it was easier. I got to do things my way, for the most part, and I completed missions much faster and more efficiently. But Fury got concerned when I started to do more reckless things.”

“Like blowing up building?” You chuckle along with Natasha.

“Right. Anyway that’s why he assigned me to the team. He said it would help me put things in perspective. He said there were things I needed to learn that I would only understand if I had teammates and the rest you know.”

“Well I think it’s working.”

The conversation stops there as F.R.I.D.A.Y informs you that Tony and the Secretary of State is here. 

In no time you’re sitting between Natasha and Steve as the Secretary tells you all you’re too dangerous. Footage of previous Avengers battles, some you weren’t here for, some you were. But then he plays footage of Lagos, how he got it so quickly, well it’s not hard to guess.

Still your eyes direct straight to your new found brunette friend. Her green eyes don’t stay on the screen long.

“Alright, alright, turn it off.” You snap at the man.

Natasha subtly places a hand on your leg but your concerned gaze stays on Wanda. 

Mister Secretary presents the Sokovia Accords and Wanda’s the first to pick it up, only to slide it directly to Rhodey. Wanda sends a single glance to you before looking back down.

Steve counters the Secretary as your eyes scan over pages of the Accords Rhodey just slid to you.

Everyone is sharing glances, trying to read each other in that moment, but no one gives away any distinct glances. 

“And if we come to a decision you don’t like?” Natasha leans forward and asks.

Mister Secretary turns to look at the red head,“ then you retire.”

You snort as Natasha gives a seemingly unbothered smirk, but you know she doesn’t like this one bit.

The compound has never, ever, been this quiet. Everyone came into the common room to have a discussion. You sit beside Natasha and she looks at you. Her eyes search yours for an answer you don’t have.

Sam is the first person to speak, voicing his disagreement with the Accords, and that incites a bit of an argument between him and Rhodey.

When Vision inputs his wisdom all eyes fall to him. And Natasha comments on Tony’s silence, which is definitely uncharacteristic of him.

“Boy, you know me so well.” he quips at Steve, wincing as he stands and walks into the kitchen." Actually, I'm nursing an electromagnetic headache.”

You raise an eyebrow, eyes trained on him like everyone else.

“That's what's going on, Cap. It's just pain. It's discomfort.” He pauses,“ who's putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?”

Wanda, for the first time today, smiles a little at your guilty expression. You swear you were going to clean it up but you forgot.

You divert your attention back to Tony as he makes mention of a young guy who was killed in the mess that was Sokovia. Your heart breaks at the expressions of your teammates and you almost instantly know who’s going to sign. 

But Tony tells everyone his stance anyway. He’s got all this blood on his hands and he’s done feeling guilty for doing what he thought was right. 

“I have to go.” Steve rushes out, leaving everyone confused.

You all disperse, Rhodey staying behind to talk with Tony. Sam follows after Steve, Vision goes off after watching Wanda leave solemnly, and Natasha walks with you back toward your room.

Once you’re a safe distance away she speaks,“ now you’re being oddly quiet.” 

Sighing deeply, you stop and lean against the wall.“ I can’t sign those Accords Tasha.”

“And why is that?” She tilts her head in the slightest.

Your mind races, there are a billion reasons why you shouldn't sign the Accords but for every reason why you shouldn’t you think of why you should,“ I- I don’t know.”

Her eyebrow raises as she waits for you to explain.

“Everyone is making this out to be black and white and it’s not. Signing the Accords means giving the government control over our team, not signing means all the control is in our hands-”

“This is about more than your control issues Y/N.”

Her words shock you. She says them in a monotonous way but you here how much she disagrees with you.

You scoff,“ you don’t think I know that? Of course it’s not about me or the team for that matter, or even the government. We don’t save lives for the government or ourselves. We do it for the families who expect their sons and daughters to come home-”

“And how many of those sons and daughters haven’t come home because of us?”

Lowering your head into your hands, you suppress a groan,“ why can’t you understand where I’m coming from Nat? I’m not saying this it’s okay but people are going to get hurt regardless. Are we really going to hand ourselves over to the people who were literally going to nuke NYC? How are their decisions any better than ours?”

Your had been private conversation is interrupted by Tony.

He approaches, as tired as ever despite the coffee he’s been drinking. But you know it’s more than just a physical tired. 

“I get what you’re saying Y/N, I thought the same thing but,” he sighs, running a hand over his face,“ we need this. As a team we need to answer to someone who can handle us cause if not we’re going to keep making the same mistakes like we’ve been doing.” 

You bite your bottom lip, understanding exactly what he means.

Without the Accords, more people are going to get hurt because of you. 

He steps closer and puts his hand on your shoulder,“ if we stick together on this it’s gonna get better.”

And that’s his whole point. Alongside not wanting to be guilty, he just wants the team to stick together. It’s not black and white to him either but it’s obvious what the better option is.

“You’re right.” You look down and then back up, eyes shifting between Tony’s and Natasha’s,“ it’s not gonna be easy getting Steve on board but, I got your back Tony.”

For the first time today you see relief wash over his features and you surprise him with a hug. And he surprises you by hugging back. 

“Go try to get some sleep man.”

He scoffs, smiles, and walks away,“ same goes for you and Romanoff.”

Knowing he’s right, again, you just grab Natasha’s hand and pull her to your room. She follows your lead as you lay down and pull her into your chest, fingers running through her red locks.

“We’re gonna be okay right?” You whisper, voice dripping insecurity and uncertainty.

Natasha sighs against your chest, hands gripping your shirt,“ yeah. We are.”

Despite her words, it’s in this moment that you know this won’t end well. For who, you don’t know, but it’s not going to end well. And it scares you shitless.

*******

Tag List: @uglipotata72829 @jumbojamba47 @fayhar @blackwidowromonoff @natasha-danvers​ @shycucumbersandwich​ @natasharomanoffsbitch-x​ @studywithrosie01 

[dragonswithjetpacks]

Well, folks, I had intended to put another bit up. Since Ao3 is down, I’ll go ahead and post it here. Just some more Astarion x Ferelith banter. I’ll edit it tomorrow with the links to Ao3. Also, I have not played the game. So I’m not sure how the telepathy works.

A Prying Shame

-dragonswithjetpacks

Summary: Curiosity was in his nature. And when Ferelith turns him down for a glance into her past, it only grows inside him. Especially after he had already opened up to her. Though, will his prying take him too far? And would she accept an apology?

Trigger Warning: Mentions of abuse.

Read here on Ao3.

Once and only once he had the thought of peering into her memories without her knowing. And that was only after she had declined allowing him to enter in first place. Ferelith's head was a hard safe to crack. And no matter how many picks he had thrown to her lock, nothing opened. There were safeguards in place. Not to mention the fact her mind was a complete fortress on it's own. He knew the only way in was with a bit of help and when she was vulnerable.

There were some nights, particularly when the moon was full, that Ferelith would wander to commune with the fey. She needed total privacy to do so. He imagined once she was meditating, she wouldn't need to concentrate on anything but what was needed to manifest her thoughts. Therefore, she would not even feel him coming. When the time came, and the moon was high, he waited for her to disappear from camp. It was difficult to tell if she truly was gone since her footsteps were quiet and her demeanor was unnoticeable. Still, he was willing to take the risk as he followed where he could only assume she would be resting.

Finding her was not difficult. Ferelith had a very distinct smell, something of a sweet incense and dead wood. He followed that about a mile into the forest where he found a clearing. In the center seated upon a very large old stump, was the maiden warlock. Her legs were folded beneath her, her hands resting upon her knees. She appeared to be at peace, her eyes close and her mouth muttering whispers he could not understand. She was in a complete trance. And he saw the opportunity while her mind was open.

He reached out, his fingers tangling into what felt like an ice cold stream flowing through the air. It thickened to string and intertwined into his fingertips. He could feel himself pulling on them when he flexed. But Ferelith did not stir. He pulled them closer, bringing them to his temple where he stared at her intently.

There was a girl running in a white dress, her steps muffled by the sound of moss beneath her feet. The wood was naked with no green, their branches reaching up toward a black sky. Her head turned over her shoulder and he saw the streaks of tears through a dirt stained face. Her eyes, usually so bold and yellow were filled with a fear he did not recognize. In their reflection he could make out the small balls of flame from the torches behind her. She picked up the front of her dress, already torn to one side, hoping she could move faster. One leg leapt in front of the other as if they were familiar with the giant roots tangled into the ground below.

Astarion did the best he could to follow, but the memory was dark. She was familiar with the wood. And her mind was much stronger. He waited until the mob passed by, following at their pace to seek the maiden in white. That was not what they called her, however. Among them the common word for what they were hunting... was hag. Astarion curled his lip. What an insulting word for such a beautiful creature.  An arrow let fly. And he heard it whistle into the treeline before hitting it's mark. A horrifying scream sounded ahead. They quickened their speed and he was appalled to be there with them listening to their cries of joy.

When he made it to Ferelith... she was already being drug by her hair, an arrow sticking out from her chest. They poked her with the ends of their weapons, shouting at her to remove her disguise. She said nothing, her eyes looking up in both rage and terror. She kicked and clawed and bit and hissed, much a like a cornered animal of the wild. The dress was torn from her body as she cried out, their weapons coming down upon her to bruise her pale flesh. For the first time, he felt compelled to look away from her naked figure. There were bruises, whip lashes, cuts from daggers, burn marks, and many scars. This was not the first time she had been tormented. They began to tie her feet when a loud sound boomed from what felt like the center of the forest. The mob stopped, raising the attention to one side of the wood. Their grips tightened on the torches, desperate for a light to show what was approaching.

They received their light. But it was not from what they prayed for. A massive light shown through the trees as if the sun itself was barrelling through. It was faster than any animal they had seen, and many began to run from instinct. The fools who chose to stay were pummeled quickly to the ground. And the even more foolish who attacked it fell in the dirt crying in pain. At a closer glance, the bright light had taken shape. And as Ferelith rose up from the ground to leap onto it's back, it looked at him with white eyes. A stag with curled horns looked into him. He looked back up to Ferelith to see she, too, was looking directly at him. It was time to go. They had discovered the intruder...

The memory snapped back and it was too late to move. Stepping backward to avoid her wrath, he tripped over a bush directly behind him. Ferelith was atop him, her hand reaching out and snatching his face. She pulled him up, her palm cupping his chin and her long black nails digging into his cheeks. He could see the markings on her fingers just outside his view. But more noticeable was her face. It was always the eyes with her. The glowing yellow eyes.

"How dare you," she said in a low tone that hardly sounded angry at all. "You trespass into my thoughts during the night of the moon? You defile my sacred place as I try to rest? And you read my memories while I commune with someone else?"

"I... I ..." he didn't know what to say.

His words tripped over his tongue as child would its first steps.

"Are an insult to this forsaken group," she threw him down.

He felt the force, but he was much stronger so the most he gave was small nudge to the ground. As she turned her back to him, he sprung to his feet stepping after her into the clearing.

"I only thought I'd get a glimpse of-"

"You were being meddlesome. Eavesdropping for the sake of your own curiosity. Nothing more."

"Damn it, Ferelith. If you would just-"

"You can't talk your way out of this Astarion," she turned to look upon him. The fury had subsided. It was now the hurt he was witnessing. The same eyes he saw looking at up at those men. Guilt was not an easy emotion for him. But realizing he had taken advantage of her, just as they did, was worse than any guilt he could ever think to feel.

"I saw your intentions... just as you saw mine..."

Just then, he saw a light ever so faint in the forest go cold as he caught sight of it. The stag from the dream... had been one of the fey. There was another flash of a memory as Ferelith looked into his eyes. The bleeding arrow, the horns of the stag, the look in her eyes... it was the night she made her pact. The memory was the connection the two shared, the sacred path that linked them. And he had desecrated it.

"I..." there was a long pause, his hands stretched out and his mouth open. "... am a fool."

"Flattery will get you no where, spawn. Leave me."

Spawn. It was what she called him the first time they met. It was meant as an insult, to demean him. She had been disgusted with his kind. Then, for some reason, she had changed her mind. Part of him believed it was his art of persuasion. Or perhaps he was succeeding at seducing the warlock. Now, he felt like he knew nothing of her. That he wiped away everything he kept of her. And he needed to start over. He watched her disappear deeper into the forest, the darkness swallowing her as she followed the light.

Ferelith glanced down into the basket, observing it only as garbage he had found somewhere during their travels.

"What is this?" she growled.

"An apology," he said, his tone serious but still lacking sincerity.

He knew Ferelith wasn't going to appear pleased. He knew very well she may not even be grateful for the effort he put forth in his attempt to regain her favor. But he also knew he was at the very least trying. And it was all he had to offer.

"There's red wine. A variation of flowers. And some... bones... of some thing I ki- I mean found."

Ferelith opened the lid to the basket and peered inside.

"None of these flowers can be used for spells or tea," she said flatly.

"That's not the point," Astarion looked at her in annoyance.

"Then what's the point?"

"They're pretty."

She blinked at him.

"I forget this is why I'm so fond of you," he sighed. "They were pretty flowers that reminded me... that reminded me of how beautiful you are."

"Out of all the useful flowers in this wood... these were the ones you chose?"

"Yes! Do you know the meaning of sentimental value?"

She looked down into the basket. The flowers' petals were dark purple that were even darker toward the center. The outer petals blossomed outward while the ones on the inside remained folded. Either he was very clever in his choice... or it was a coincidence.

"If you look into my thoughts again... it will be of your death."

She slammed the lid on the basket, snatching it from the ground before storming off. Again, he would never dream of following her if he had no reason to. But curiosity was his weak point. This time, however, he waited much longer to follow. What he found when he discovered her was well worth the risk. Ferelith was bathing in the river, her body half submerged on the bank. There was a wreathe of purple flowers in her hair, the wine bottle in one hand, and the skull of a dead animal in the other. It appeared... she was talking to it. And the bottle was half empty.

[heyyyharry]

Ugh why are boys so scary, these stories make me terrified to date.

The more I think about London boi, the more irked I get bc I kinda feel like he strung you along? Idk maybe I’m reaching. But If he was struggling with understanding his feelings, which ok I can get, feelings aren’t back and white, he should have communicated SOMETHING to you about where he was at. But he purposefully kept up y’all’s banter.

Like maybe he was thinking, just keep you close enough until I figure this shit out, which In my needless opinion, is selfish.

I could be COMPLETELY off the mark but his true colors have been revealed. Now he’s a shade of hot garbage fire green.

Oh god 🤣🤣🤣 i guess we’ll never know how he truly feels 🤷🏻‍♀️ oh well what’s past is past